Read The House of Hardie Online

Authors: Anne Melville

The House of Hardie (11 page)

So for the three afternoons which followed she kept well away from Magdalen. On the fourth day, however, the temperature began to rise. As she walked home from her morning lecture she noticed that the sun was shining not only brightly but warmly. This might well be the last opportunity of the winter to use her skates.

Her friends called for her as usual, but brought with them warning news. The Thames had flooded its banks for a second time, so that the ice on Port Meadow was now covered with water. ‘We should go back to the Cherwell water meadows,' they said. ‘We've told the others. They'll meet us on Magdalen Bridge again.'

Midge said nothing. This time the decision was not hers; there was no shame in merely accepting it. It would be easy enough to keep away from the college gates. Why should she deny herself a last afternoon of pleasant exercise merely as a kind of self-mortification?

She tucked her straying hair inside her bonnet. ‘To Magdalen, then,' she said.

Chapter Twelve

For four afternoons running Archie had jerkily circled the water meadows on his borrowed skates. On the first two occasions he was glad that Midge did not appear to be in the vicinity; accustomed to appearing accomplished at everything he tried, he did not take kindly to his first clumsiness at this new skill. But once he had got the hang of it, he started to look out for her. The River Cherwell divided into three as it enclosed and crossed the water meadows, and so hard was the frost at first that even these channels had frozen over, making it possible to skate as far north as the Parks. So the area to be searched was a large one – and half the city, it seemed, was playing truant from school or business or study to take advantage of the weather.

Archie found it hard to understand his eagerness for Midge's company. She was too clever for him. His own education had left him able to translate verses into or out of Latin and Greek, but not to argue logically on abstract subjects, nor to follow allusions plucked from the history or literature of several countries: he had learned to read a little French, but could not understand a word when Midge rattled it off at the speed of an express train. But then, girls were not meant for talking to. What he liked about Midge was the physical pleasure of dancing with her, or walking with her, or looking at her as he rowed or punted. In her company his pulse quickened as though to keep pace with her own vivacious energy.

If he were to meet her on the ice, there would be no
need to talk. They could move together, perhaps even holding crossed hands as they skated. Archie could – truthfully enough – describe himself as a tyro and ask for help and instruction and support. But first he must find her.

Soon it would be too late. A sunny morning had begun to melt the thinnest ice near the banks of the Cherwell, although the meadow was still firm enough. Archie might have been expected to take pleasure in the thought that the river would soon be fit once again for rowing. Instead, a new urgency of spirit added power to the thrust of his feet as he moved from one group to another, scanning every face he passed. Twice he thought from a distance that he could see Midge; but every young woman who possessed a fur-trimmed bonnet was wearing it today, and each time he found himself mistaken.

He stood still in the centre of the most popular area. When everyone else was moving, perhaps it made better sense to remain in the same place. Almost at once he was rewarded. Midge was skating backwards, her arms stretched out to pull along a friend whose first lesson it seemed to be. The cold had brought roses to her cheeks and her eyes sparkled with pleasure and encouragement. Archie watched for a moment without moving. Then he positioned himself so that Midge could not help but crash into him.

Naturally he was alert to ensure that she did not fall – and quick, too, to catch her friend and help her towards a tree which she could hold. In the flurry of mutual apologies Archie saw mischief in Midge's smile. She had recognized that the accident was no accident – and she was pleased.

‘I must help my friend back to the others,' said Midge. Archie bowed his head in agreement and waited to see
whether she would return. Two minutes later she sped past him without stopping, outdistancing those of her companions who had started level with her in a race.

Amidst all the activity of circling, zigzagging skaters, no one could notice that Archie was following Midge's track. It took him a little while to catch up with her. Although his legs were stronger, and far longer, than hers, he had not mastered the gliding movement which propelled her speedily forward, making her skates sing a high, sharp song as they cut through the ice; instead, he came almost to a halt after each thrust of the blade. Only when they were far from the bridge and from most of the other skaters did she check herself and turn to wait for him.

‘I'm delighted to see that you can be frivolous, Miss Hardie.' Archie staggered slightly as he came to a halt; stopping, he found, required even more skill than progressing forward. ‘I'd imagined you hard at your books during every moment of the term.'

‘I've adopted the custom of the university,' Midge said lightly. ‘A little exercise in the afternoon, and back to work after tea.'

‘Won't you practise your future profession on me?' he asked. ‘I'm in need of a teacher. Will you show me how to skate backwards?'

Midge gave a demonstration. Archie attempted and failed to copy her. She stood beside him and called out instructions, which he was unable to follow. With her back to him, and from a little distance, she began to swerve gracefully and slowly towards him, telling him to move back in time with her own movements. Archie waited until she was so close that he could put his hands on her waist and move as though they were dancing.

‘Really, Mr Yates!' exclaimed Midge, twisting herself free.

‘Dash it all, a chap needs a bit of support,' Archie said plaintively. ‘Darned slippery stuff, this ice. Now, if you were to hold my hands and sort of push me backwards in front of you –'

Midge pursed her lips and shook her head just as though she were a schoolteacher already but nevertheless did as he suggested. It seemed to Archie, though, that there was no profit to be taken from success. It was easy enough to lose his balance and fall, bringing his teacher down on top of him.

So tiny was Midge, and so light, that as Archie lay on the ice he felt as though he were covered only with a confusion of clothes. She looked down at him with laughing eyes which recognized that Archie was becoming an expert in non-accidental accidents.

By the time she regained her feet, snow had begun to fall again. The white flakes rested and glistened in the black fur which framed her face, and on her eyebrows and eyelashes. They softened her features, so that Archie, standing less steadily beside her, wondered how he could ever have thought of her merely as handsome. She was beautiful: a snow princess. His look must have spoken for him, for she lowered her gaze for a moment. Then, with her usual energy, she shook her skirts free of snow.

‘I must go back to my friends,' she said, and made off without waiting for him. Archie, lost in admiration of her swift gliding movement, was slow to start in pursuit. Once he had pushed off, he did his best to catch her up, cursing the ungainly stiffness of his own movements which slowed him down and kept him at a distance.

Midge was skating down the centre of the river channel, where the ice was smoothest. It was only near the banks
that the ice had become thin; in the middle, even a well-built rowing man like Archie could hear no sound of cracking beneath his skates. But his eyes narrowed with anxiety as he saw the direction she was taking.

Late on the previous evening a rowdy group of non-skaters had taken to the ice, each pushing a wooden chair for support in front of him. Their friends – of whom Archie was one – had entered with spirit into the horseplay, and before the evening was out the chairs were blazing in a huge bonfire which burned a hole in the ice near the river bank. During the night the area had frozen over again, but so thinly that for safety's sake it had been broken up with sticks. For most of the day it had been obvious enough that the place was unsafe; but it was beginning to grow dark and the snow, which by now was falling heavily, might well have made the danger invisible. Midge would notice that no one was skating there, but might not guess why.

‘Miss Hardie!' he shouted, doing his best to increase his speed. But she had too great a start; he could not hope to catch her up in time. Instead, he came to a halt and cupped his hands round his mouth, bellowing as though he were a towpath coach admonishing a rowing eight. ‘Miss Hardie! Come back!'

Chapter Thirteen

Midge knew very well that she was behaving in an unladylike manner. Properly brought-up young ladies skated demurely in pairs, their hands tucked inside muffs, their backs straight, their feet moving gracefully but not too fast. They did not hold their skirts off the ground and lean forward, biting their skates into the ice as though they were racing some unseen competitor. But there was a reason for her present speed. She was hurrying back to rejoin the companions whom she should never have left, and if her head was thrusting forward, and turned down instead of being erect, it was not only because the position gave more power to her legs, but because by now the snow was falling thickly enough almost to blind her if she looked straight ahead.

She followed the river's curving course: it was less crowded than the meadow, because most of the merrymakers were nervous of the deep water below the ice. Faintly, from a distance, she heard Archie call her name: but he would not seriously expect her to stop. She sped on, past the Grove in which deer huddled round bales of hay, past Magdalen's eighteenth-century New Building, and on towards the bridge.

‘Miss Hardie! Come back!'

Half of Oxford must have heard the shout. Was Archie trying to embarrass her? She would have to wait for him, if only to remonstrate. It was another of Midge's unladylike talents that she knew how to turn her feet and body sideways to make her skates judder to a halt within a few
inches, however fast she might be going. She was just about to make the turn – but was still moving at speed – when she felt the ice give way beneath her. There was not even the sound of cracking to give her warning. One moment she was on thick ice and a minute later she was in the water.

At the moment when she fell, her ankle was turning in one direction while the weight of her body moved in another. But she hardly had time to register the pain, for the chill of the water numbed her lower limbs. There was little danger of drowning, because it was near the river bank that the ice had given way. The water here was no more than two or three feet deep, and by flinging herself quickly forward she was able to grasp the exposed root of a tree. But the weight of her wet clothes pulled her down and the task of hauling herself on to the bank with her fingerless mittens seemed beyond her. Gasping with cold, she turned her head to see if anyone was near enough to help. The snow was falling in straight thick lines, forming a screen around her and deadening all sound. Less than half an hour earlier the whole area had seemed overcrowded, but now it was as though she were alone in the world.

Through the screen Archie appeared, his face anxious and his movements awkward. It seemed as though he knew where he should look for her, and what he might find, for he leapt from the ice to the bank. Midge felt his hands beneath her shoulders, drawing her out of the water to lie for a few seconds on dry land.

‘Are you hurt?'

‘My right ankle, perhaps.' Midge struggled into a sitting position. ‘Nothing serious, I'm sure.'

‘Hang on a second.' It took him very little longer to find his ordinary boots and pull them on. Returning, he
bent down and picked her up as though she weighed nothing at all before striding through the tall gates which led into his college.

‘Where are you taking me?'

‘To a fire,' said Archie briefly. ‘You could catch pneumonia unless we can get you warm again quickly.'

Shivering uncontrollably, Midge lacked the strength to protest. Once or twice in the past she had indulged in daydreams of being carried away by this strong, handsome young man, but had always been able to laugh herself out of them. She was not that kind of weak, helpless girl. She could stand on her own feet and look after herself. So, at least, she had always believed. But now it was indeed welcome to feel that she was being looked after. Nevertheless, anxiety pricked at her mind when she realized that Archie was taking her towards the building in which he had his set of rooms. To be alone with an undergraduate on college premises was the most heinous crime which could be imagined by the Association for the Education of Women. She turned her head anxiously from side to side to see whether anyone in authority was watching. But the snow which had cut her off from help now served to make her invisible in a more useful manner. It was through a white, silent, uninhabited world that Archie was carrying her.

He kicked open the door of his room and very carefully set her down, supporting her while he took off her cloak and then helping her to a chair. He threw more coals on to the smouldering fire and used the bellows to encourage it into flame. Then he crossed the room again and, before closing the door, pulled at a much heavier outer door and latched it shut.

‘What are you doing?' Midge asked with chattering teeth.

‘Sporting my oak. Means I'm not to be disturbed. So that I won't be interrupted while I'm working! It'll be a surprise for my scout if he comes – the first time I've ever sported it.' His smile of amusement changed to one of earnest explanation as he realized that his guest was anxious. ‘The thing is, it can't be opened from the other side. But
you
can walk out whenever you choose, just by lifting the latch. Let me take your boot off before the ankle swells up. Which one is hurt?'

Still shivering violently, Midge indicated her right foot. Archie held it firmly in position while easing off the boot; then, more swiftly, he removed the left one as well. Springing briskly to his feet, he considered what to do next.

Other books

Chimes of Passion by Joe Mudak
Hijos de la mente by Orson Scott Card
The Lights Go On Again by Kit Pearson
Doruntine by Ismail Kadare
Northwest Angle by William Kent Krueger
Fetching by Kiera Stewart
Every Other Saturday by M.J. Pullen


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024