Past All Forgetting

‘The place could do with an airing,’ he remarked. ‘But I can’t smell any damp, can you? It all seems in pretty good nick. Shall we have a look upstairs?’

‘You go ahead,’ she said. ‘I’ll join you in a minute. I want to enjoy this view for a while. It’s a long time since I’ve seen it.’

A long time—seven years, to be exact. Seven years since she had come out of that antique auction further up the dale with her father and found herself face to face with Rian, come to collect his aunt who had been bidding for some china figures. For a moment she had barely recognised him. He had always been thin, but now his face was harder and older, the dark eyes under their lazily drooping lids suddenly wary. He had answered her father’s jovial greeting with a smile and a handshake, and then had turned to her, his smile widening.

‘Of course I remember Janna,’ he responded to her father’s query. ‘I’m waiting impatiently for her to grow up.’

It was the teasing, slightly flirtatious remark that he might have made to the schoolgirl daughter of any old acquaintance. She could see it now. Why couldn’t she have seen it then?

Because I didn’t want to, she thought, gripping the terrace balustrade with suddenly shaking hands. Because in that brief instant, on the heels of his joking remark, she had found a focus for all those barely understood adolescent yearnings. Still half a child, every demand of her awakening womanhood had become crystallised in Rian. And her egotism, burnished by the knowledge of her legion of admirers in the local Sixth Form and the Young Farmers’ club, had done the rest.

She wanted Rian, so it must follow as the night did the day that he wanted her.

Janna winced, recalling how simple it had all seemed then. It had not taken her long to find out why Rian was in Carrisford. He was on an extended sick leave recovering after a fever contracted in a jungle war, but the fact that he was officially convalescent did not prevent him throwing himself into the social life of the district.

Just how fully Janna only realised at breakfast one morning, when her father casually remarked to her mother, ‘I see young Tempest has taken up with Barbara Kenton. Bit of a lass, isn’t she?’

‘You could say that,’ her mother had replied with a repressive glance in Janna’s direction.

Janna had pushed away her cereal bowl with a sudden sick feeling. She knew all about Barbara Kenton. Within the limitations of the area, Barbara was fairly notorious. In her last years at school, there had always been jokes about her, and comments scribbled on walls. Then, she had been a tall, sleepy-eyed blonde whose clothes always seemed just too skimpy for her voluptuous body. Now she was working as a receptionist in the White Hart, and making little attempt to conceal her overt sexuality.

Her father was speaking again. ‘Well, you can’t blame the lad. Plenty of time before he needs to think of settling down. But I bet he hasn’t told his uncle. Bit of a Puritan, the old Colonel, if you ask me.’

Janna got up from the table, feeling her cheeks beginning to burn angrily. Collecting her school bag from the hall, she told herself vehemently that Rian couldn’t like Barbara Kenton. He just couldn’t! She was so vile and obvious. But that evening at the Midsummer barbecue she was given plenty of evidence to the contrary. Rian was there, and Barbara was with him, clinging to his arm at every opportunity. They left the barbecue early, and Janna overheard a few of the ribald remarks when their departure was observed. It was her first real experience of jealousy, and it was cruel and hurtful. The evening was ruined for her, and as she lay in bed that night, tossing restlessly in a vain attempt to capture some sleep, images of Rian with Barbara kept superimposing themselves on her mind.

It wasn’t a great consolation to find that Barbara could not consider him her exclusive property either. She was just one of a long list of girls that Rian escorted to dances and parties, and drove to dinner in his sports car as June lengthened into July. But Janna, to her chagrin, was not.

They met everywhere, of course, and he always spoke pleasantly to her, but at the same time he made no attempt to further their acquaintance. To her dismay, she realised that he was treating her as he would any other of the youngsters. She did everything she could to get him to notice her, abandoning her own crowd of friends and hanging about on the fringes of his, flirting outrageously with anyone who gave her any encouragement, and dancing without a trace of inhibition with any partners who offered themselves. Rian did not offer. Occasionally she caught him watching her, an expression of faint amusement in his dark eyes, but he always held maddeningly aloof.

But at last her chance came. There was a Young Farmers’ buffet dance, and Janna managed to wangle herself an invitation from Philip Avery, who was only a couple of years Rian’s junior. Her parents did not approve, she knew, but they could not forbid her to go without offending the Averys. Besides, Philip was eminently respectable, and his eight years’ seniority to Janna was the only real complaint they could make against him.

Extreme behaviour had got her nowhere, she decided, so she would see what the utmost circumspection would achieve. At first it did not seem to be achieving very much at all. Rian’s eyebrows had risen when Philip had arrived at his table with his partner, and his greeting to Janna was cool. Everyone else in the party was at least five years older than she was, and Janna soon began to feel very out of things. Much of the general conversation was lost on her as she did not know the people or the incidents being referred to. Philip was good-natured enough, but it was obvious from his attitude that he now rather regretted bringing her, and Janna guessed that he had been teased by some of his contemporaries for cradle-snatching. Suppressed tears of mortification made her eyes sparkle even more brilliantly than usual, and she held her head high as she sipped her fruit juice, and tried to pretend that it didn’t matter that she was the only person at the table not old enough to order something alcoholic.

It was just after the interval that the miracle happened. She came back from the cloakroom to find everyone else dancing and Rian sitting alone at the table. He rose courteously as she approached and held the chair as she sat down, but she knew that he was hiding his annoyance at the situation. Inwardly she was jubilant.

She smiled at him, using her lowered eyelashes quite shamelessly.

‘Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?’

‘I wasn’t,’ he said dampeningly. ‘However, if you insist.’ He rose and held out his hand.

She swallowed down a swift feeling of humiliation, and accompanied him on to the dance floor. It was a fast-moving beat number, and there was no opportunity for conversation. She could have cried with disappointment. She knew she could make him interested in her, if only—only she was given the chance. Like an answer to her prayer, the lights dimmed and the band’s tempo changed to a slow smoochy number. Amid wolf whistles and catcalls, couples went willingly into each other’s arms. Janna glanced shyly at Rian and saw that amusement was battling with exasperation on his face. For one appalled moment, she thought he was going to take her back to the table in front of everyone. Then, with a slight shrug, he held out his arms.

For a few seconds she was too unnerved with happiness to be aware of anything other than she was at last in his arms where she had wanted to be. Then her senses began to report other messages, the sheer hard muscularity of his body against hers, the sharp, expensive smell of the cologne he used, and almost involuntarily she moved closer to him, pressing herself invitingly against him and sliding her arms round his waist under his jacket.

For a moment he tensed, and she heard him give a soft, unamused laugh.

‘You, my sweet Janna, have all the makings of a first-class witch—but of course you know that,’ he murmured.

‘I don’t know anything except that this is the first time I’ve ever danced with you.’ She tipped her head back and looked up at him, deliberately provocative.

He tapped the end of her nose with a careless finger. ‘Don’t try your tricks on me, little one. I’ve seen them all before and performed by experts. Go and cut your milk teeth on someone your own age, and I don’t mean Philip Avery.’

When she spoke, her voice shook with anger. ‘Don’t be so—so bloody patronising! You’re only ten years older than me, Rian Tempest, so what gives you the right to criticise my conduct?’

He grinned down into her furious face. ‘That’s more like it, Janna. The sophisticated siren bit doesn’t suit you, you know. You’ve got years ahead of you for that. I preferred the kid with ice-cream round her mouth who used to tail after me at cricket matches.’

‘How very sad,’ she said, struggling to regain her poise. ‘I’m afraid I buried her some time ago, along with my ankle socks and the braces on my teeth.’

‘It’s sadder than you know,’ he answered briefly. There was a long pause, then he said quite gently, ‘Look, Janna, I know—or rather I suspect—what you’re up to. I won’t pretend I’m not flattered. I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t. You’re young, very lovely, and very desirable. It’s a combination that adds up to dynamite and I—I don’t want to be around when the explosion happens. I have enough excitement in my work. When I’m on leave, I’m looking for some rest and relaxation.’

‘Is that what you get from Barbara Kenton?’ some inner demon made her ask.

His eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘I hardly think that’s any of your business,’ he drawled. ‘But let me advise you against trying to emulate her example. You—er—lack the basic equipment at the moment.’ He let his eyes rest insolently on the modest cleavage revealed by the dipping neckline of her pale yellow dress.

Her cheeks were flaming. ‘You—you swine!’ she breathed.

He bowed his head in ironic acknowledgment. ‘That’s a safer thing to be in your eyes than the answer to the maiden’s prayer, Janna,’ he said drily. ‘Now shall we sit the rest of this out?’

She had wept bitterly that night, but had risen the following morning with all the mercurial optimism of youth. He had said she was lovely and desirable, as well as being young. She would build on that.

She came back to the present with a start as Colin said irritably, ‘Are you going to spend all day gazing at this damned view?’

She turned. He was standing in the open french windows, staring at her reproachfully. ‘It’s nearly time for you to get back, and you haven’t even looked at the bedrooms or the kitchens.’

She looked down at the stone flags. ‘I don’t think I can live here, Colin,’ she said at last.

‘What?’ His voice rose incredulously.

‘We—we don’t have to buy this house, do we?’ She moistened her lips and stared desperately around her. ‘It’s too big, for one thing. There must be seven or eight bedrooms at least. You said yourself that we’d need staff. I’d rather looked forward to coping by myself—when we were first married, at least.’

Colin’s frown deepened. ‘I don’t know what’s got into you, Janna. I thought you knew that you weren’t going to be Little Mrs Average in her three-bedroomed semi. That isn’t our sort of life, darling. You must be realistic about it.’

She bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, Colin. I—I just don’t care for this house. I can’t visualise myself ever living here.’

His expression became slightly more indulgent. ‘I’ve rushed you a bit, haven’t I, darling? I’m sorry, it was stupid of me. I just thought you’d be as thrilled as I am about it all.’ He walked over to her and slid his arms round her waist, pressing his lips to the side of her neck. ‘Forgive me?’ he whispered.

‘Of course.’ The smile was difficult, but she made the effort.

He was silent for a minute or two. Then, ‘It is a glorious view,’ he beguiled her. ‘Are you quite sure you want to let it go?’ He waited, but she made no reply. ‘Think about it, Janna,’ he said persuasively. ‘Properties like this don’t come on the market any old day, you know.’ He kissed her again. ‘And you’re so lovely,’ he muttered thickly. ‘It’s just the setting you need. You were born to be the mistress of this house, darling.’

Suddenly she wanted to be free of his seeking hands. Nervously, she pulled away, trying to laugh. ‘Colin, I’ve got to get back to school. I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you, and I will think it over, I promise.’

‘I can’t ask more than that.’ He linked his fingers companionably through hers and led her back into the drawing room, locking the french windows behind them. ‘I know you’ll change your mind, my sweet. I’ll arrange for a survey to be done, and we’ll come again next week when we have more time and go all over the place.’

‘Yes,’ she said quietly, ‘we’ll do that, if you wish.’

Conversation was desultory as they drove back through Carrisford, and parked outside the school gates. Colin took her hand. ‘Dinner tonight?’

She hesitated. ‘I don’t think so. I ought to wash my hair.’

‘It looks fine to me,’ he said. ‘But you know best. I’ll ring you tomorrow.’ He lifted her hand to his lips.

She stood on the pavement and watched the car drive away, feeling as if her entire world had been turned upside down. The safe walls of security and convention that she had built so painstakingly up around herself over the past few years showed every sign of tumbling around her, and it was an uncomfortable feeling at the least.

Colin was right, of course, she thought miserably. The house had everything to recommend it. If it had been any other house anywhere in the locality she would have shared his enthusiasm. She had always known that it would be part of her duties as his wife to entertain his guests and have foreign buyers to stay, and she had looked forward to it.

But the house—that house—did not belong to them and never could, no matter how much money Colin’s father might put up. It was the Tempest house, and it belonged by rights to Rian Tempest, and it was her fault and hers alone that Rian had not inherited it. Her fault that it had stood empty for all these years. No one had ever accused her, but she knew it just the same, knew that Rian had left his uncle’s house seven years before in bitterness and disgrace because of her, and that the Colonel had died without forgiving him.

And the fact that the knowledge of her guilt was confined to her and only one other person in the world now did not ease her conscience in the slightest.

Faintly in the distance, she could hear the bell for afternoon school begin to ring, and she turned and began to walk up the drive. Over in the playground, the children were being lined up by the teacher on duty, and Janna turned slightly to watch, not noticing where she was going.

She did not hear the sound of the car’s engine. The first warning of its presence was the blare of the horn, and she stepped hurriedly out of its way, flattening herself against an adjacent wall with a word of apology on her lips. She glanced at the driver’s seat, wondering incuriously who the owner of such an exotic vehicle might be and what business brought him to a small country school in the middle of the day. She couldn’t think of any of the parents whose finances would run to a supercharged machine like that. The half-smile died on her lips. For one incredulous moment, she thought she must be dreaming, that it must be an image created by her overcharged emotional state.

The car braked softly beside her, and the driver’s window rolled noiselessly downwards, at the press of a button, she thought hysterically, digging her nails into the palms of her hands. A pair of dark eyes met hers expressionlessly, then moved slowly and consideringly downwards, lingering on her white face, and the trembling limbs she could neither control nor dissemble.

‘Hello, Janna,’ said Rian Tempest.

Then the car accelerated forward, with a low, fierce growl like some huge menacing beast, and he was gone.

CHAPTER TWO

JANNA shut her bedroom door and sank down on the bed with a heartfelt sigh of relief. Her head was throbbing painfully, and her confused state of emotion, coupled with apprehension, had made her feel physically sick.

She did not know how she had managed to get through the afternoon with a semblance of normality. She had sat in the darkened hall with her class, watching the film show with unseeing eyes, laughing obediently when everyone else did at the technicoloured cavortings without the slightest realisation of what was going on. Luckily the Walt Disney adventure and the cartoons which preceded it had occupied everyone else’s attention, so Janna’s wan appearance and tightly gripped hands passed unnoticed.

Her mother, however, was not so easily to be put off. She had watched with puckered brows while Janna pushed her evening meal, uneaten, round her plate, but had accepted her halting explanation that she thought she might be starting a migraine. Mrs Prentiss had been a migraine sufferer all her life and was always eagle-eyed to detect incipient signs of it in anyone close to her. She had tutted distressedly over Janna, pressed some painkillers on her, and recommended that she lie down in her darkened room. Janna was thankful to accept the medicine and the advice.

Now that she was alone, at least she did not have to pretend any more. She turned and lay full-length on her stomach across the bed, pillowing her chin on her folded arms.

Rian Tempest was back in Carrisford. After all these years without a sign, a word even, he had returned, and now her peace of mind had gone for ever.

She closed her eyes, trying to erase from her mind the memory of that long look he had given her before he had driven off. It had emphasised more clearly than words could do that he had not forgotten anything which had passed between them seven years before. Not forgotten—and not forgiven either. But what else did she expect? What she had done to Rian was unforgivable. She had always known that.

She shivered, pressing her body further into the yielding softness of the eiderdown as if she was seeking some kind of sanctuary. When she had been a child, and there had been some small disaster to be faced, it had always been a comfort to drag the bedclothes round her—even over her head—and tell herself that no one would ever find her now.

Yet Rian had found her, she thought, as she had always feared that he would even with the false sense of security the passing years had given her.

But why had he come back? she asked herself almost despairingly. Now that his aunt and uncle were both dead and he must know for certain that the house and estate were not his, what was there to draw him back to Carrisford? The possibilities that suggested themselves were too disturbing to contemplate.

She turned restlessly on to her side, wishing for the first time in her life that she had a sleeping tablet. Something that would blot out thinking and reasoning—and above all remembering for a few hours. The adult equivalent of drawing the bedclothes over one’s head, she told herself wryly.

What did he intend? she asked herself, but no immediate answer was forthcoming. Rian had always been totally unpredictable, she thought. That was why she had continued to pursue him, confident that he was not as impervious to her as he had tried to maintain. She had the memory of his reaction to her while she had been in his arms to buoy up her hopes as well. He might have spoken of his own indifference, but his body had betrayed him with its instinctive response to her proximity. And there was an element of challenge in the affair now. She would make him admit that he wanted her, in deed as well as word. She would make him grovel.

Janna gave a groan and buried her face in her hands. Why, oh, why had she been so sure she could do so, when all the evidence suggested the contrary? God knew she had received fair warning, so she could blame no one for what had happened subsequently but herself.

She had seen little of Rian in the week following the dance, do what she might. It had been during this time that she had paid her abortive visit to Carrisbeck House with the parish magazines, she recalled with a pang. But he seemed to be avoiding his usual haunts, or at least avoiding her while she was there, and she had to be content with a couple of unsatisfactory glimpses of him driving his car, once with Barbara Kenton’s blonde head conspicuously close to his dark one.

Her obsession was beginning to be noticed by her friends, and a few sly hints were dropped, which she ignored in spite of the feelings raging inside her. Geoff Christie, whom she had been dating in a desultory manner before Rian’s return, soon became peeved at her indifference and began taking out one of her friends. From being the centre of attention, Janna began to find that she was now becoming an outsider among her contemporaries, but she told herself defiantly that she did not care. If she was lonely, then she had chosen to be so, and anyway nothing mattered except Rian.

Her schoolwork began to suffer, and she found herself the target for tart remarks from her teachers, who could not understand why such a previously bright and interested girl had suddenly become such an introspective dreamer. She could not sleep either. Many nights she lay awake for hours, tormented by feelings that she could only dimly comprehend. It was a warm summer, so she was able to blame the heat for her sleeplessness and shadowed eyes. There were even nights when she let herself quietly out of the sleeping house and walked through the silent streets, through the town and up into the hills, encountering nothing more than a few startled sheep. Except once.

Janna rolled on to her back and stared up at the ceiling as she remembered that particular night. As it happened, she had not been for one of her solitary walks. She had been visiting a girl friend whose parents owned a farm a few miles up the dale from Carrisford, and she was cycling back rather later than she had intended. She was not worried about it. Her parents would probably think she was spending the night at Marion’s as she had done in the past, she reassured herself.

She came across the Carrisbeck bridge and slowed for the bend, when she noticed a car pulled off the road and into the shelter of the trees which crowded to the edge of the highway. She recognised it instantly, even though its lights were off, and checked.

Her first thought was that Rian might be in the wood with Barbara, and she had to suppress a pang of jealous anger, but reason prevailed, pointing out that this particular clump of trees was hardly an appropriate place for a lovers’ tryst. It was far too near the river for one thing, and invariably damp. So what was he up to? she wondered. She got off her bike and wheeled it to the side of the road, depositing it near Rian’s car, then set off down the narrow muddy track which was all that constituted a path. There was no sound of voices, however hushed, just the distant murmur of the river and closer at hand the heart-thudding cry of an owl just above her head.

Janna expelled her breath in a slow sigh of sheer fright, then went cautiously on.

She paused as she emerged from the trees where the ground fell away sharply to the river bank below, and a mischievous smile curved her lips. The river at this point was wide, and the current deep and sluggish. It was one of the places recognised locally as being safe for bathing, and Rian, she saw, was taking full advantage of the fact. Against the silvery sheen of the water, his hair looked black and gleaming, and she could see the long lithe turn of his body as he moved easily through the water.

She slithered down on to the bank, found what she was looking for—his clothes in a neat pile—and sat on them demurely, waiting for him to notice her. But somewhat to her pique, he was obviously too absorbed in his own pleasure to notice he had company, and eventually she was obliged to draw his attention to the fact by clearing her throat noisily.

He dived under the water and came up a few feet from the bank, treading water, and shaking the drops from his face and hair.