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Yet I knew I would go back, because Deer’s Leap had me hogtied and besides, there was a pilot who needed my help – not only to find his girl but to be gently told he was a name on a war memorial.
Then the phone rang again and I knew it was Piers.
Oh, damn, damn, damn!
Chapter Three (#ulink_1fa4a421-6ca4-55c3-b81b-1a0f86c2df2a)
Piers was quite loving on the phone. Not very loving – that isn’t his style. Piers prefers a hands-on, eyes smouldering approach, which doesn’t come over too well on a telephone. But he was very nice, asking if I’d had a good day workwise, and when was he to be allowed to come up and see me – since it didn’t seem I was in all that much of a hurry to go and see him!
Then he said that of course he understood that I was a working woman and must be given my own space. He didn’t mean one word of it – I can tell when he’s talking tongue in cheek – but at least he’d got this morning’s message.
‘You do want to see me, Cassandra?’ he persisted. ‘I’ve got a few days owing; could pop up north any time next month.’
I said of course I wanted to see him and that next month would be fine; by then I’d have finished chapter ten and sent off a copy to Jeannie, I added, and probably caught up with myself. I was a little behind schedule, he’d understand, on the deadline date.
I would also, with a bit of luck, have removed myself to Deer’s Leap, and out of his reach. It wasn’t that I was being devious or two-faced, I was merely keeping one jump ahead of him, and if I had to tell a few lies it wasn’t entirely my fault since Piers is a chauvinist. He always has been, come to think of it. Looking back, the signs were there even when he was at the spotty stage, long before he went to university.
‘I can tell your mind is miles away, so tell me you love me and I’ll leave you in peace,’ he said, throatily indulgent.
‘You know I do,’ I hedged, putting the phone down gently, marvelling that twice in one day I’d had the last word. Then I forgot him completely because of far more importance was telling Mum that I might be about to baby-sit a house in the back of beyond, and didn’t she agree it was a smashing idea?
Mum didn’t think it was a good idea at all.
‘You said that house is isolated, Cassie! How can you even begin to think of spending a month there alone?’
‘For one thing, I’d have no interruptions and –’
‘You can say that again, miss! And you could be lying dead in a pool of blood and no one any the wiser!’
‘Mother!’ I always seem to call her that when she lays it on a bit thick. ‘Of course I couldn’t! I can look after myself!’
‘Famous last words!’ Her cheeks had gone very red.
‘Mum! Please listen? I want to go to Deer’s Leap. I love the place, but if you want a better reason, then I need time alone. This book I’m on with now is the important one, and I want it to be better than Ice Maiden. I’d have a whole month to myself. I could even get the first draft finished and after that, editing it would be a doddle!’
‘And you’re sure you wouldn’t be nervous, alone?’
‘No, Mum! Of course not! And Jeannie will almost certainly be there at weekends; from Friday evening to Monday afternoon, actually. That gives me almost four days to write like mad and I’d be safer at Deer’s Leap on my own than I would in the middle of Leeds or Liverpool – or London! Mum – you know it makes sense. And you could ring me and I’d ring you …’
‘We-e-ll – I’ll have to see what your dad has to say about it …’
She was weakening, so I didn’t say another word.
After that I hovered over the downstairs phone, then over the phone on my desk, willing either to ring, willing it to be Jeannie. I was so exhausted willing and hovering that when it finally shifted itself I stood mesmerized, looking at it.
‘Jeannie?’ I whispered.
‘How did you know it was me?’
‘Have you spoken to Beth?’ I begged the question. ‘What did she say?’
‘She’s quite taken with the idea. They both are – with reservations, of course.’
‘Like what?’
‘She’s a bit anxious about you being nervous, but I told her you wouldn’t be.’
‘Is Beth nervous alone there during the day?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘There you are then. Is it on, Jeannie?’
‘If you’re sure – then yes, it is. I’m looking forward to a few weekends there.’
‘It’s going to be quite a thrash, all the way from London. Will you drive up?’
‘No way. I’ll get the train, then I can work. Lord only knows how much reading I’ve got to do. Could you pick me up at Preston station?’
‘No problem.’ The thudding had started again, and the little fluttery pulse behind my nose. ‘It’s going to be wonderful. I’ll be able to get loads of work done too. As it is, I aim to send you the first ten chapters before I see you.’
‘Fine. Beth will be getting in touch later. I gave her your phone number. She said it might be a good idea if you were to arrive the day before they go – get to know the geography of the place.’
‘Like …?’
‘Oh, when the bread van calls and the egg lady. And they’ve got a water softener. You’ll have to know about that. No problem at all, but it recharges itself so she’ll explain about the gurgling noises you might hear every fourth night in the small hours. Sure you’re still keen, Cassie? If you’ve changed your mind, now’s the time to say so.’
‘I want to go. Deer’s Leap is magic. I’ll be there!’
‘That was Jeannie,’ I said to Mum, who was expecting to be told. ‘Beth and Danny are pleased about my going. And I forgot to tell you, the bread van calls, and the egg lady.’
I thought it best not to mention that I already knew that Beth left notes and money for them in a large, lidded box at the end of the dirt road near the crossroads.
‘Hm.’ Mum was getting used to the idea, I could tell. ‘I’ve never met your Miss McFadden, except on the phone.’
‘Then you should. Why don’t you and Dad drive up there one Sunday? Surely you can leave the place for a day? Jeannie would love to meet you both.’
Holidays together for market gardeners and their spouses are few and far between. It’s like being a dairy farmer, I suppose: a seven-days-a-week job.
‘Hm,’ she said again, obviously liking the idea. ‘When will you be going?’
‘Not for a couple of weeks. Beth is really looking forward to a break. They haven’t had a proper holiday for ages, Jeannie said.’
‘I know exactly how she feels,’ Mum said fervently.
‘Then a day out would be good for you both. Just pick your time and arrive when you feel like it – preferably when Jeannie’s there.’
I wasn’t being devious, getting Mum interested and on my side. As soon as she saw the house she would love it every bit as much as I did and see for herself how safe and snug it was.
‘I just might take you up on that,’ she said, filling the kettle.
That was when I had my first big panic. What if, in the entire month I was there, I didn’t see Jack Hunter? What if he only appeared once a year? His bomber had crashed not long after the Normandy landings; probably about the time I’d seen him.
The panic was gone as quickly as it came, because I knew he would be there. He and I were on the same wavelength, and he had something to tell me.
The birds awoke me at five on the morning of my departure. I focused my eyes on the bright blur behind the curtains, then yawned, stretched and snuggled under the quilt again to think about – oh, everything! About my route; where I would stop to eat my sandwiches; about leaving the A59 and driving to Acton Carey on Broads, so I could dawdle and look around me and think about the four weeks ahead.
I had no plan in my mind about discovering who lived at Deer’s Leap before the Air Force took it in the war. Nor had I the faintest idea how I would set about finding where they had gone when their home and land were requisitioned without the right of appeal.
Things would work out in their own good time. It stood to reason I’d been meant to drive along a narrow road one summer morning because a lost soul wanted a lift to Deer’s Leap. Thoughts of the supernatural didn’t worry me at all. I knew no fear except that perhaps Jack Hunter would not be able to tell me what I wanted to know.
How deeply, despairingly had he and his girl loved? Very deeply, my mind supplied, or why should the need of her, fifty years on, be the cause of such unrest? Perhaps they had not said a proper goodbye and her heartbreak had been terrible when she knew she would never see him again. All at once I was glad I had not lived during those times, nor known the fear that each kiss might be the last between me and –
Between me and whom? Not Piers, that was certain. If Piers were to walk out of my life tomorrow I was as sure as I could be that only my pride would be hurt. He and I did not, nor ever would, love like that long-ago couple. I didn’t even know her name, yet I was sure of the passion between them. Their lives had become a part of me, and until I could discover what caused such devotion from beyond the grave, I would never be free – if I wanted to be free, that was …
I sighed, and leaned over to pull back a curtain. The early morning was bright, but not too bright. Mornings too brilliant too early are weather breeders. I pushed aside the quilt, and swung my feet to the floor. Best I get up. The sooner I did, the sooner it could all begin.
By the time I got to the clump of oak trees at the start of the final mile, my mouth had gone dry. The day was warm and sunny and I drove with the windows down. My hair was all over the place, but my short, bitty style can be tamed with a few flicks of my fingers.
I could feel my cheeks burning, whether from the heat, or driving, or from the triumph that sang through me, I didn’t know. Perhaps it was a bit of all three, with a dash of anticipation thrown in.
I slowed as I neared the place, coughing nervously. I was almost there; about a hundred yards to go. I remembered that first time taking my eyes off the road for a second, then looking up to see the airman there.
I glanced to my right, then gazed ahead. He wasn’t there and soon I would have driven past the place. I looked at my watch. I had timed my journey so as to be in the same spot at what I thought was about the same time. I’d gone over and over the previous journey in my mind and decided that the encounter had happened a few minutes before eleven o’clock.
The time now was ten fifty-six and I had passed the place without seeing him or sensing that he was around. He wasn’t coming; not today, that was. People like him, I supposed, couldn’t materialize to order, but even so, I looked in the rear-view mirror, then in the overtaking mirror, to be sure he wasn’t behind me.
But he would come. Sooner or later he would appear, I knew it. If I really was psychic, then the vibes I’d been sending out for the past fifteen minutes would have got to him good and strong. I would have to be patient. Didn’t I have plenty more days? I smiled, pressed my foot down, and made for the crossroads and the dirt road off it. This time, the road ahead was clear of sheep.
I slowed instinctively when I came to the dirt road, glancing ahead for a first view of Deer’s Leap. When I got to the kissing gate I almost stopped, noting as I passed it that its black paint shone brightly.
‘She’s here!’
Beth’s children were waiting at the white-painted gate. Hamish and Elspeth were exactly as Jeannie had described them.
‘Hi!’ I called. ‘Been waiting long?’
‘Hours,’ Hamish said.
‘About fifteen minutes,’ his twin corrected primly.
‘Have you met Hector, Miss Johns ?’ The Labrador lolloped up, barking furiously.
‘Cassie! And yes, I have – the weekend you two were at camp.’
I’d seen little of the dog, actually; he’d been shut in an outhouse because of his dislike of strange men.
I got out of the car and squatted so Hector and I were at eye level, then held out my left hand. He sniffed it, licked, then allowed me to pat his head.
‘He likes you,’ Elspeth said. ‘We’ll help you with your things.’
I smiled at her. She was a half-pint edition of Jeannie, not her mother. Hamish was fair and blue-eyed, like Danny.
‘Beth’s in the bath.’ Danny arrived to give me a smacking kiss, then heaved my big case from the boot.
Carefully I manoeuvred my word processor from the back seat, handing the keyboard to Hamish. His sister took my grip and soapbag; I carried the monitor.
‘How on earth did you get all this in that?’ Danny looked disbelievingly at my little red car. ‘Looks as if you’ve come prepared for business.’
‘I shall write and write and write,’ I said without so much as a blush.
Beth arrived in a bathrobe with a towel round her hair. Her smile was broad, her arms wide. I love the way she makes people welcome.
It felt as if I had just come home.
When they left, waving and tooting at seven next morning, I watched them out of sight then carefully closed the white gate, turning to look at Deer’s Leap and the beautiful garden. It was a defiant glare of colour: vivid red poppies; delphiniums of all shades of blue; lavender with swelling flower buds and climbs of every kind of rose under the sun. They covered arches and walls, rioted up the trunks of trees and tangled with honeysuckle. In the exact centre, in a circular bed, was the herb garden; a pear tree leaned on the wall of the V-shaped gable end.
Uneven paths wound into dead ends; there were no straight lines anywhere. The garden, for all I knew, had changed little since witches cast spells hereabouts, and Old Chattox, Demdike and Mistress Nutter fell foul of the witch-hunter.
For a couple of foolish minutes I pretended that everything between the white gate and the stone wall at the top of the paddock belonged to me. I began rearranging Beth’s furniture, deciding which of the bedrooms would be my workroom when I had become famous and a servile bank manager offered me a huge mortgage on the place. Hector lay at my feet; Tommy, the ugliest of cat you ever did see, rubbed himself against my leg, purring loudly. Lotus, a snooty Persian, pinked up the path to indicate it was high time they were all fed. I felt a surge of utter love for the place, followed by one of abysmal despair. I wished I had never seen Deer’s Leap; was grateful beyond measure that for four weeks it was mine.
‘All right, you lot!’ I said to the animals, determined not to start talking to myself. First I would feed them, and then myself. Then I would make my bed and wash the dishes I had insisted Beth leave on the draining board. After that, I would start work.
The kitchen table was huge and I planned to set up my word processor at one end of it. I had decided to live and work in the kitchen and only when I had done a decent day’s work would I allow myself the reward of the sitting room, or of watching a wild sunset from the terrace outside it – with a glass of sherry at my side.
I smiled tremulously at Deer’s Leap and it smiled back with every one of its windows. Already the sky was high and near cloudless, and the early sun cast long shadows. I thought of Beth, and wondered if they had reached the M6 yet. Then I thought of Jeannie.
My route to Preston station had been painstakingly illustrated by Danny so I could find my way there without bother to meet her train at nine tonight. I felt a contentment that even my Yorkshire common sense couldn’t dispel. I had even decided not to drive down the lane to The Place, near the clump of oaks; that I wouldn’t hassle Jack Hunter nor feel disappointment if he didn’t turn up – or was it materialize? Today would be given to settling in, settling down and getting used to being mistress of Deer’s Leap.
Tomorrow, if I could, I would find an excuse to drive into Acton Carey alone. I am a writer, so surely between now and then I could come up with a believable excuse. After all, the pilot and I had met on a Saturday, so it was worth a try.
I sighed blissfully. I would potter until ten, when I would start work. Not until four o’clock would I prepare the salad to eat with the home-cooked ham Beth had left for us. Only then would I make myself presentable and meet Jeannie’s train. I felt so lucky, so utterly contented, that I wondered when the skies would open and jealous gods hurl down anger against me.
I crossed my fingers, whistled, then rummaged in a drawer for the tin opener. First the cats; then Hector’s biscuits and water as set out on the list on the kitchen windowsill. It was all so lovely and unreal that I wanted to laugh out loud.
‘That’s enough, Cassandra!’ I said in my mother’s it’ll-end-in-tears-before-bedtime-if-you-get-too-excited voice. ‘Just take every hour as it comes – then sit back and let things happen!
And happen they would, if I had anything to do with it!
Jeannie’s train arrived on time.
‘Hi!’ she said. ‘Good of you to pick me up.’
‘No bother. I like meeting trains.’ I do, actually. ‘Good to see you.’
‘How’s everything going? Got settled in?’
‘All set up and working. I’ve had a good day. Did you eat on the train?’
