Read Then She Fled Me Online

Authors: Sara Seale

Then She Fled Me (27 page)

 

B
ut her thoughts turned often to Joe in those snowbound days. Did he, too, feel shut out? Did he picture Kathy thrown into a forced intimacy with a man who had so much more to give her than had he himself and know that small dull ache which seemed to be her own constant companion now?

Shutting up byre and stable for the night, Sarah would lean against the half-door, listening to the beats munching, and watching the light from her lantern throw grotesque shadows on the rotting timbers while she tried to assess her emotions. Joe loves Kathy, so that is quite simple, she would argue with herself, but I love only my father and Dun Rury,
only Adri
an is somehow mixed up in it too ...
then she would return to the house, and Adrian might be reading verse aloud while Aunt Em knitted by the snug fire and Kathy bent over her dressmaking, looking up every so often to smile at him.


Do you like that?

he would sometimes say, including Sarah in their intimacy, and she would more often than not answer rudely:

No, I think it

s mushy.

Most afternoons he would say to Kathy as soon as lunch was over:

Come along, young woman. Everyone in this house works except us,

and they would go off together, his hand on her shoulder, she laughing up at him, pleased that he should need her help. Sarah would watch them, then, if there were no jobs outside to be done, she would sit until tea-time with Nonie in the kitchen where she could not hear the music and voices coming from the nursery. He was falling in love with Kathy, she thought, and who could blame him? She shut her eyes in unexpected pain. All her life she had been accustomed to the admiration of others for her sister; this was the first time it had hurt her. Her heart ached for Joe and for the old happy days when life was uncomplicated and the nursery just the room where they had spent their childhood.

 

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

By the end of the second week there was still no sign of
a
thaw. The bath water system was out of action and Nonie boiled great cauldrons of water which were carried up to the bathroom each day. The Riordans took their baths in th
e
old hip-bath in front of the kitchen fire, and Adrian could sometimes hear the shrieks and laughter which proceeded from the kitchen at these times. He in his more chilly privacy often envied them their fun, remembering the rare occasions when such incidents had upset the normal dull routine of his own nursery at home.

For other matters he had the freedom of Nonie

s kitchen, now. He would sit by the stove cleaning his shoes, or give Sarah a hand with the evening wash-up. They all took him for granted as one of the family, and when Sarah said:

I don

t know why we take your money when you do half the work,

he replied with a twinkle:

I

m paying for
the home comforts. Now I see what you meant by them.


It

s queer how he fits in when you think what a fuss he made about his rights when he first came,

Aunt Em said wonderingly, and Nonie replied:


Sure, it was just his stiff English way. He knows now there

s more to be got out of life than strummin

the piany.

He was late down for tea one afternoon after a few hours of typing in the nursery and found the family had nearly finished.


Where

s Sarah?

he asked, wondering for the first time why she and Kathy could not take it in turns to shut the beasts up for the night.


She

s gone to see old Paddy,

Aunt Em said, handing
him
his tea.

He

s not quite right in the head, you know, and she thought he might be getting low in provisions.


But that

s right down the far end of the lough,

said Adrian quickly.


Yes, above the bog. A very tumble-down little place.
I hope the roof has stood the weight of the snow.


But, Miss Emma, surely the south road

s impassable?


Oh, yes, for cars. But one can walk.


In the dark? There

ll be drifts six feet or more on those
d
eep bends.


Only where the banks shelve to the lough, Sarah says. She knows
the road very well.

Adrian put down his cup and stared at her.


But, Miss Emma, don

t you realize that conditions are quite different now? No one in their senses should have allowed the child to go all that way alone in this weather.

Aunt Em

s eyes under t
h
e curled fringe were surprised and apologetic.


Well, I did suggest it was foolish, but you know what Sarah is. She

s always gone her own way.


She

ll be all right,

Kathy said, smiling at him.

Sarah can always find her way home.


I

m not afraid of her getting lost, except in a six-foot drift,

he said shortly.

He suddenly felt extremely angry. They were complacent, irresponsible. They sat there smugly by the fire and had no thought for possible danger.

I

m going to meet her,

he said abruptly, and they stared at him.


But you don

t know the road at all,

Kathy protested.


Nonsense! I can take a torch and follow her tracks. How long has she been gone?

Aunt Em glanced at the clock.


Oh, about three hours. But it would take her much more than that to get there and back in the snow.


Adrian
, really it isn

t necessary,

Kathy said, distressed.

Sarah can look after herself.


I think it

s very necessary,

he replied sharply.

I don

t want to be rude, Kathy, but it sometimes strikes me that you all take it a little too much for granted that Sarah can look after herself.

Kathy

s lips trembled as he went out and shut the door.


Do you suppose he thinks we

re callous, Aunt Em?

she said.

I didn

t—I didn

t think he took much notice of what Sarah does.


I

m afraid he does.

Her aunt sighed.

And I

m afraid we do take t
h
e child for granted. I—I shouldn

t have allowed her to go, I suppose, but I was thinking of

s
omething else at the time. You know how it is.


I know a lot of unnecessary fuss is being made,

Kathy said crossly.

Adrian

s much more likely to fall in a drift than Sarah.

Adrian filled a flask with whisky, pocketed a spare muffler, and, turning the collar of his overcoat up to meet the brim of his hat, started out down the drive. He was still angry. As Miss Dearlove had long ago suspected, he possessed a good healthy temper underneath that cool exterior he presented to the world and it was roused now. That silly old aunt with her vagueness and dim-wittedness; Kathy with her poses and her lovely, uncomprehending face
...
how had they come to let themselves be ruled by a foolhardy child?

It was bitterly cold but there was no wind. Sarah

s tracks in the snow were plain and crisp in the strong light of his torch and he followed them easily, careful not to diverge from the crown of the road. Snow was banked high to his right where it had slipped down the mountain-side, and to his left the unbroken surface was nearly level with the road, where normally there was a steep drop to the water. Had he not had the line of footprints to guide him, he would soon have gone off the road, and he thought grimly of Sarah unknowingly blazing the trail for him, careless that one false step would lead her into a drift.

Here, he remembered, was the bad bend that curved like a corkscrew; this must be the thorn tree which grew out of a jutting rock. He glanced at his watch. He had been walking for over an hour and there was still no sign of her. The single line of tracks went on before him, wavering a little, now. Once they disappeared altogether in a small drift where she must have fallen, but he picked them up again further on. A long-forgotten verse of poetry jumped into his head and made a jingle for his steps.

They wept—and turning homeward, cried


In heaven we all shall meet!

When in the snow the mother spied

The print of Lucy

s feet.

Who wrote it, Tennyson, Wordsworth? Kathy could tell him.

They followed from the snowy bank

Those footmarks one by one
...

Something, something, something, something,

And further there were none.


Oh, curse the thing!

he said aloud and quickened his pace.

He could see now the far outline of the end of the lough. Paddy

s shanty must be about a mile down the road; he should have met her long ago. All at once he stopped. He had been walking mechanically, a little hypnotized by the perpetual glare of the beam of his torch on the unchanging whiteness, but he realized now that he had been following two sets of tracks, one going and one coming back. He turned and retraced his steps, alarm rising quickly in him, and a little farther back where the road took a sudden turn, the returning footprints ended. And
farther there were none
...
and farther there were none
...

He began t
o s
hout, directing the light in a circle about
him,
but there was no reply. He scouted again, and his voice echoed back to him from the mountains. The third time he thought he heard a sound. He called again and this
time h
e was sure. It was the small, sleepy response made by someone trying to wake up! He moved the torch slowly and then he saw her. She was lying half in a drift behind a large rock; there was a little trickle of blood on her forehead and she must have uncovered the snow from the rock as she fell.

He knelt beside her at the extreme edge of the road, and felt for her pulse. It was slow, but not unduly so, but her lips were blue with cold.


Sarah!

he cried sharply.

Wake up! Are you hurt?

She opened her eyes and blinked at him.

What are you doing here?

she asked drowsily.


I came to look for you, and it

s a good thing I did, it would seem,

he said grimly.

Put your arms round my neck and I

ll pull you out.


Too tired,

she said, and cuddling her face into the snow, closed her eyes again.

He shook her roughly.


You must wake up,

he said.

Here—take a pull at th
i
s—it may put some life into you.

He unscrewed the top of his flask and held it to her lips
.

She choked a little and tried to push it away, but he held it firmly until he was sure a good portion of the spirit had gone down her throat.


Now,

he said,

if you don

t want me to slap you hard, put your arms round my neck and hang on.

This time she obeyed him. He pulled her out with no difficulty, for she was ridiculously light, but as she stood on firm ground again her legs crumped under her and she began to cry.


Oh, they hurt,

she sobbed.

Hold me, Adrian. I can

t stand.


It

s only the blood running back into them,

he said, his arms tightly round her.

Very agonizing, but it will pass. Here—prop yourself against the rock and I

ll rub them for you.

He rubbed vigorously, pushing back the tu
rn u
ps of her wet slacks, working mercilessly with his strong pianists

hands until she cried out with the pain. But it passed as he said it would and she leaned against him, shivering with cold, but able to stand.

He examined the cut on her forehead, but it was not serious, and he wound the spare muffler round her neck and made her drink some more whisky.


Did you knock yourself out when you fell, do you think?

he asked her, but she could not tell him that. She only remembered banging her head as she slipped in the drift, and wanting to go to sleep.

She began to giggle.


Dear Adrian
...”
she said.

How extraordinary you coming to find me in the snow like a St. Bernard with a cask of brandy round your neck.


It

s lucky I did,

he retorted.

You wouldn

t have been here to tell the tale in the morning if you

d been left to
your slumbers. Like poor Lucy, you

d

never more be seen.



Who

s Lucy?


Never mind. Are you fit to walk now?


I think so, but I

d much rather snuggle up to you!
You

re so nice and warm. Are you angry, Adrian?

He gave her a little shake.


Yes, I am angry. Of all the idiotic foolhardy things to do! You deserve a good spanking and I

ve a damn good
mind to give you one. At least it would warm you up! Come on, now. Walk fast and pray to your favorite saint that you won

t catch pneumonia.

It was an anxious journey for Adrian. She seemed so cold and often he was obliged to stop and let her rest. Then she would lean against him for warmth and comfort, snuggling her head into his shoulder, begging him to let her sleep.

When at last they reached the house, he was glad to see that her lips were less blue. She looked exhausted but the violent shuddering had stopped and he handed her over to Nonie with instructions to wrap her at once in blankets and prepare the hottest bath she could manage.


Ah, me poor child!

the old woman exclaimed.

Sure Miss Emma must be out of her mind and she with no notion of what she was doin

. If I

d known

twas Paddy-the
-
Sheep
you were after visiting, I

d not have let you go without Nolan for company. Sure, Mr. Flint is the only wan in this house with a head on him, an

he English at that an

not knowing our ways. Is it drunk you are that you can

t stand up, an

you with the smell of the craythur on you the like of which I

ve never known outside the saloons.


It

s not all inside me,

Sarah giggled.

Adrian poured it in my shoes. Just think, Nonie darling, all that good whisky sloshing about in my shoes.


Och, that

s an old gillies

trick. I

d not be giving the English the sense for it. Come on out of that, now, me bold girl, an

lep out of them wet clothes.

Nonie began stripping her regardless of Adrian in the doorway, and he nodded to her and went away, leaving them together in the warm kitchen.

He found the family subdued. They had all been given the rough side of Nonie

s tongue in his absence, and Aunt Em said a little timidly:


You must think us very thoughtless, Mr. Flint. I hadn

t realised, I suppose, what might have happened. We —we

re most grateful to you.

Kathy was regarding him with big reproachful eyes and he said with an effort:


I

m sorry if I was rude to you, Kathy, but I was worried.


I understand,

she said in her soft voice.

Is

is Sarah all right?


She

ll be all right if she doesn

t get pneumonia,

he replied a little shortly.

You

d better take her temperature as soon as she

s in bed, Miss Emma.


I don

t think we have a thermometer,

Aunt Em said vaguely.

Danny broke the last one trying to get the mercury out.


Nolan has one for the cows,

said Danny helpfully.

Adrian moved impatiently. Heavens, what a family! Nothing ready for emergencies, and probably not even the simplest first-aid box in the house.


Well, I suppose you have aspirin and hot-water bottles in the house.


Oh, yes,

said Aunt Em brightly.


Then pack her with both. No, on second thoughts, leave the aspirin to me.

If he left it to Aunt Em she was quite capable of administering half the bottle in a moment of abstraction.

He looked in on Sarah before supper and found her curled up in a very large bed with two half-grown greyhound puppies peering out from under the eiderdown.


How do you feel, now?

he asked, placing a cool hand, on her forehead.


Lovely,

she said sleepily.

Nonie simply boiled me and I

ve had a huge bowl of soup. It was very kind of you, Adrian, to come and rescue me. Are you still angry?


No. I had to be angry to get you home. You kept wanting to go to sleep on me.


You were warm and kind of comforting. Do you know I kept confusing you with my father.


Did you, Sarah?


Yes. I think I still do. Isn

t it strange?


Not altogether, only you

re too young, still, to understand the reason.


Am I? How queer. It

s a good thing you have meals downstairs, now. I wouldn

t be able to bring your tray up tonight.


I

ll carry yours up instead.


It isn

t,

she said, burrowing into the pillows,

correct for the lodger to carry up trays to the landlady.

He stood looking down at her, his hands in his pockets.

But when one has such a feckless landlady anything may happen,

he said and added:

I didn

t know you went to bed with a couple of puppies.


I don

t as a rule. But I

ve been bringing them in since the snow. They feel the c
o
ld, poor, things. You see, they

re the only ones left from the rickety litter. I still can

t find homes for them.


You were too soft-hearted to put them down?


I

m not soft-hearted, but they were young and full of life, and—and, well, I couldn

t, Adrian. I

ve found homes for all of them except these two.

The puppies wriggled and beat apologetic tails under the eiderdown. They peered at Adrian with bright, trustful eyes.

Other books

Marked for Danger by Leeland, Jennifer
Death and the Sun by Edward Lewine
La cena by Herman Koch
02 Blood Roses - Blackthorn by Lindsay J Pryor
The Tejano Conflict by Steve Perry
Critical Threshold by Brian Stableford


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024