‘Good thing, too,’ Esme had sniffed when she’d popped into Bag End to discuss the tidings from every possible angle. ‘Ryan will be relieved. At least he won’t be constantly reminded of that dreadful snub.’
‘Bramble will miss her,’ Liz had mused. ‘It’s an awfully big place to live in on your own with that grim housekeeper.’
‘I thought you said Bramble was sweet on the land agent? Perhaps he’ll move in with her?’
Liz had been slightly alarmed by the idea, not having considered it before. ‘There’s something about him... I don’t know.’
A few days later, Tony had reported that he’d seen Bramble and Katie at Plymouth station when he’d been collecting a friend. He’d witnessed a tearful farewell between the girls at the station, then Bramble had left alone, looking young, lost and utterly dejected.
On Saturday afternoon, with this in mind, Liz decided to drive up to Polgarry with Lowenna in tow, thinking that Bramble might be grateful for some company. The young woman came to the door as soon as the housekeeper announced their arrival and seemed delighted to see them both, but Liz almost left when she heard that Fergus was there.
‘I can come back another day?’ But Bramble wouldn’t hear of it.
‘He’s up on the roof, examining the leaks,’ she explained as they hovered in the hallway. ‘He’s going to try to patch them up for the winter.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘I’ve had to tell the workmen to leave.’
‘Why’s that? Weren’t they any good?’
Bramble made a face. ‘They were hopeless, but that’s not why they’re off.’
Lowenna seemed content looking around for a moment, so they remained where they were while Bramble gave details about the covenant and what it meant. ‘So you see,’ she said grimly, ‘I can’t afford to pay them any more.’
Liz wanted to know how they’d taken the news.
‘They weren’t at all happy, as you can imagine. They downed tools and two of them stalked off while the boss, Gus, ranted and raved that I’d have to find the cash to pay them quickly or he’d sue.’
Wilf joined them from another part of the manor and grinned at Lowenna, who was gazing in wonder at the glittering chandelier above, the bronze statuette of the naked youth playing a pipe in the centre of the table and the gold-framed oil paintings of gentlemen on horseback and crinoline-clad ladies.
‘Can she stay and play?’ he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he took the little girl’s hand and led her into the drawing room. So intent was Liz on hearing Bramble’s story that she scarcely noticed.
‘So what will you do?’ she asked, aghast.
Bramble shrugged. ‘I managed to persuade Gus to give me a bit of time – three months. It was the most I could get.’
‘Do you owe much?’
‘Thousands – and they don’t seem to have done anything. I knew they were bad news the moment I saw them.’ She bit her lip. ‘I should have listened to my gut instead of Piers, who’s turned out to be a right shit.’
It was a relief to say the words out loud, like scratching a bad itch. Shit, shit, shitty shit, she thought. That felt better.
They joined Wilf and Lowenna in the main reception room and sat side by side on the sofa, from where they could hear Fergus on the roof, banging and scraping. At one point he popped his head through the hole, which seemed to have grown bigger since the night of the party, before pulling it out again quickly. It would have been funny if the women hadn’t felt so glum.
‘Goodness!’ was all that Liz could muster. ‘I hope he’s careful.’
Sensing, perhaps, that they wanted to be alone, Wilf led Lowenna on to the crumbling terrace outside the open French doors, where they squatted side by side, examining bugs and interesting bits of stone and pebble. Liz noticed the dark circles under Bramble’s eyes, the pinched nose and mouth, the worry lines on her forehead, and struggled to think how she could help.
‘Tabitha’s got a gig next month – the second Friday in October; perhaps you’d like to come?’ she piped up, wondering if a little distraction might be welcome. ‘It’s in Callington, not far. I’ve offered to drive Tony and Felipe. There’ll be plenty of room in the car.’
Bramble gave a small smile. She could hardly think beyond today, let alone all the way to next month, but she thanked Liz and promised to let her know.
‘Is she getting lots of opportunities? She’s very good.’
‘Not really. In fact, this is her first event since The Hole in the Wall. I guess it’ll take time; it’s such an overcrowded field.’
There was an awkward pause, so it was a relief when Maria appeared, carrying a silver tray laden with teacups and saucers, a teapot, milk and the most delicious-looking fruitcake that Liz had ever seen.
She sniffed appreciatively. ‘Mmm! Is it homemade?’
‘I baked it this morning,’ Maria replied stiffly. ‘It was one of Lord Penrose’s favourites. I trust the children will enjoy it, too.’
Bramble’s hand shook as she picked up the teapot, and the housekeeper hesitated, a question playing on her lips that she seemed only just able to suppress. Liz had always found Maria cold and terrifying, but now she fancied that she detected something new in her eye, a gentleness she hadn’t noticed before, and it occurred to her that the formidable foreigner might actually care for her mistress. It was quite a revelation.
Her presence, however, appeared to unsettle Bramble more than comfort her, and she almost dropped the cup and saucer as she passed it to Liz.
‘That’ll be all, thank you,’ she said a little sharply, and Maria discreetly withdrew, closing the door behind her.
The tinkle of china, and perhaps the smell of cake, soon brought Fergus in, and he sat opposite the women, stretching out his long legs.
‘I think I’ve got some tiles that’ll do for now,’ he commented after taking a slurp of tea. The delicate porcelain cup seemed too small for his hands; it could have been a thimble. ‘They won’t look great, but they’re the right size and weight. They’ll keep you dry for a winter or two in any case.’
Liz was full of admiration. ‘Do you mean to say you just happened to have them knocking around at home? You’re amazing!’
Fergus scratched his nose as if he were embarrassed. ‘There’s a builders’ yard over Liskeard way. It’s where I get my paint boards. They’ve got all sorts of stuff, but you have to keep dropping in. If you don’t nab what you want as soon as it arrives, it’s gone.’
He must have been giving the roof some thought then since Bramble had been to the cottage, working out what was needed and how he’d go about it. She was touched.
‘You must tell me how much the tiles cost,’ she said, but he seemed almost offended.
‘Ach, they were practically giving them away.’
Wilf and Lowenna trotted in – lured, no doubt, by the cake, too – and to Bramble’s amazement, Maria popped her head around the door to ask if they’d like something to drink.
Liz mentioned Katie’s sudden departure, but Bramble was reluctant to talk about it, so they changed the subject quickly.
‘Rosie’s having a little gathering at our house tonight with Rafael and a few other friends,’ said Liz. ‘She and Rafael seem to have struck up a bit of a friendship. I said I’d barbecue some burgers and hot dogs. There were originally six coming but now it’s eight or ten.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘The number’s growing all the time.’
Maria arrived with plastic cups of juice for the children, which they downed in a few short gulps. When they’d finished, Fergus rose, stretching, and said he’d return to the cottage and bring the tiles back in his van.
‘Wouldn’t you rather leave it for today?’ Bramble suggested. ‘It’s getting rather late.’
‘I may as well make a start now. The sooner you’re watertight, the better. You’ll help me, won’t you, Wilf?’
The boy made a face because he wanted to carry on playing with Lowenna, but Liz said they had to go to the supermarket.
&nb
sp; ‘She’ll probably make an awful fuss. She loathes shops with a passion.’
Bramble had a flash of inspiration. ‘Why don’t I look after the children while you get on with your jobs? I can take them for a walk.’
It seemed to her to be an excellent solution. She loved the little ones and it wasn’t as if they didn’t know her, but Fergus looked unsure.
‘We won’t go far,’ Bramble promised. ‘I won’t take my eyes off them for a second.’
‘Lowenna would love it – thank you,’ Liz said warmly. ‘I’ll give you some spare nappies just in case.’
Wilf gazed at his father with big blue eyes. ‘I can go, can’t I, Dad?’
How could anyone resist?
But Fergus frowned. ‘I don’t think—’
‘Please?’ Wilf’s bottom lip quivered.
‘All right then,’ his father sighed. ‘But keep close to Bramble. Do as she says and don’t go running off.’
While Fergus strode back to his cottage, Bramble and Wilf went with Liz to her car to fetch the pushchair and Lowenna climbed in obligingly. The walking party waved Liz off, then Bramble took Wilf by the hand, pushing the stroller purposefully with the other in the direction of the coast.
‘Let’s go to the sea! We can paddle in the waves and look for shells and you can bring some back for your dad to put on his bedside table.’
She decided to take the road from the manor in the opposite direction to Fergus’s cottage because she knew that the cliff sloped more gently there down to the shore. There was also a proper track and a small, secluded beach – if you could call it that. Really it was just a triangle-shaped area of sand surrounded by rocks. You wouldn’t want to stay long because there was hardly room to lay out a towel for sunbathing, but it was perfect for small children: beautifully quiet, and the rocks would be covered in interesting mussels, seaweed and barnacles.
They passed by a couple of farm sheds and a rather ugly modern bungalow, which was owned by a Plymouth family and normally rented out, although the previous tenants had recently left and there were no signs of the new ones yet. A battered red Ford chugged past, its exhaust puffing out smoke and making dubious noises.
Wilf wrinkled his nose. ‘Pooh! That stinks.’
‘It does,’ Bramble laughed. ‘I think it needs to go to the garage.’
When they reached the second bend in the road, she pushed the stroller behind a bush, where it couldn’t easily be seen, unbuckled Lowenna and slung her on a hip.
‘Come on,’ she said, taking Wilf’s hand again. ‘It’ll be easier to walk down this bit. It’s not too far.’
The path was narrow, rocky and uneven and she had to watch her footing so that she wouldn’t stumble. On either side were tall scrubby bushes and gnarled trees, their knobbly roots sometimes extending across the track so that they had to clamber over. The sky was grey, the air heavy and Bramble hugged Lowenna’s sticky little body tight to make sure she wouldn’t wriggle out of her grasp. Wilf spotted a grasshopper on a leaf and stopped to admire it, but it soon sprang away, while Lowenna held out a hand and tore little bits off leaves as they brushed by.
When they rounded the final corner and saw the tiny beach and the grey-blue ocean stretching out in front of them, Bramble sighed with relief. The route had been slightly further than she’d remembered and she hoped that she hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew; it would be quite an effort to carry Lowenna back up the hill. Still, they were here now and she was determined to enjoy it.
‘Let’s take off our shoes,’ she suggested, setting Lowenna down on the gritty sand. ‘I bet the sea feels cold.’
Stooping so as to be closer to Lowenna’s height, she led the little girl to the water’s edge, where the waves lapped over her tiny pink toes, making her squeal with shock and pleasure. Wilf, however, hung back.
‘Come on!’ Bramble called. ‘It’s fun.’ A slightly bigger wave whooshed up Lowenna’s thighs and she hopped back, giggling. ‘We should have brought our swimming things.’
Still Wilf refused, and she wondered what had got into him.
‘Are you afraid of the water? You don’t need to be.’ She turned to him, extending an arm. ‘Look, you can hold on to me. I won’t let you go.’
‘’Ook!’ Lowenna coaxed, but Wilf shook his head obstinately.
‘What’s the matter, darling?’ Bramble said, confused. He seemed to be engaged in an internal struggle. She took a few steps in his direction, but Lowenna’s legs were shorter so they didn’t get far.
‘My dad says I’m not allowed to go in the water without him.’ He wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
Bramble stared at the little boy in amazement. ‘Why on earth not? That’s ridiculous! I’m sure he won’t mind as I’m here.’
Wilf kicked the stones at his feet. ‘He doesn’t like—’
‘Oh, go on. It’s not scary!’ She turned once again to the water, pulling Lowenna up by both hands just in time to stop a choppy wave from soaking her through.
‘More! More!’ the little girl shouted, and this time Bramble spun her round in a circle until she was dizzy. She kept hold of her when she landed to stop her toppling over.
‘You can roll up your shorts – you won’t get wet,’ Bramble shouted over her shoulder to Wilf, thinking that perhaps Fergus was worried he might spoil his clothes, though it seemed unlikely. The boy appeared to dither for a moment, but remained on the spot.
She was still looking at him when a much larger, more powerful wave that seemed to come from nowhere rushed almost up to her waist and right over Lowenna’s head. It happened so quickly that the little girl didn’t respond after it withdrew, staring with wide, startled brown eyes, her wet, dark hair clinging, seal-like, to her face as Bramble hurriedly scooped her up.
After a pause that seemed to last for ages, Lowenna opened her mouth and emitted a piercing shriek – ‘Eeee!’ – that made Bramble’s teeth rattle and her bones shake. It was loud enough to wake the dead. She hugged Liz’s daughter to her chest, shielding her head with a hand and intending to scramble to the shore, but before she got the chance another wave knocked her right off balance. Instinctively, she grabbed Lowenna by the waist and raised her up above her shoulders, so that she wouldn’t be drenched again, before landing awkwardly on her bottom, scraping her leg on the sharp stones beneath. She tried to struggle up, but could feel herself toppling sideways, as if in slow motion, taking Lowenna with her right beneath the swell once more.
They both gasped as the wave receded, and again Bramble fought to stand up, but the shingle beneath her seemed to slip away as she scrabbled desperately to find a foothold. Before long she was being pulled further out to sea, beyond where the sand shelved and there was any hope of staying upright, even on tiptoes.
Lowenna had gone quiet again, and Bramble kicked hard with her legs and tried to push the toddler to the shore. No sooner had she gained a few inches, however, than another freezing wave bowled them forwards and then dragged them further back. She felt as if they were being sucked into a funnel and swirled around like concrete in a mixer.
There were a few seconds more when she thought that she was still in with a chance, but as the water continued to churn around and over, squeezing the breath from her lungs, the dreaded word ‘riptide’ flashed into her mind and it finally dawned on her that she was in real trouble. She’d heard about riptide tragedies, but they only happened to unfortunate souls who ignored safety warnings, didn’t they? Gripped with blind fear, she started to thrash helplessly, but her legs felt weak and her arms were growing tired with holding up Lowenna. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could do it.
‘Help!’ she cried, realising even as she did so that it was hopeless as there was no one about, not even Wilf, for she could no longer see him on the shore. Perhaps he’d been too frightened to watch what was going on; he wouldn’t have been able to do anything in any case.
She felt the water, a centrifugal force, pulling her down, down, and raised her chi
n, gasping for air and swallowing mouthfuls of salty seawater. Lowenna, too, spluttered and writhed before going limp, and Bramble screamed at her not to give up but to keep breathing, to hang in there. She had no idea if the child understood, and could only pray that her survival instinct – or a miracle – would save her, for she herself no longer could.
‘Bramble!’
A distant voice pierced her consciousness, or was it just the seagulls? She couldn’t tell.
‘Bramble! Listen!’
It was louder and more insistent this time, definitely a human sound. Weak as she was, she managed to raise her head far enough above the tide to spot two figures, a man and boy, waving at her madly, and a little way behind them, the towering figure of Fergus.
The boy was Wilf, for sure, but the man beside him? She thought she must be seeing things, that she’d gone mad... but there was no time to reflect. Time was running out, and he and Wilf were still gesticulating wildly. At first she couldn’t understand what they were doing; she thought that their arms were flailing in panic. Then it occurred to her that they were pointing to the right, urging her to swim in that direction, parallel to the shore.
‘I can’t!’ she managed to yell, before another wave like a wall of water slapped her in the face, shooting up her nose and into her mouth, leaving her choking and breathless.
Some slight movement and a faint moaning came from Lowenna, signalling that she was still alive, and a sudden surge of energy charged through Bramble like lightning; this might be their last opportunity. She’d taken life-saving classes at school, hadn’t she? Quickly, she flipped the child on to her back, cupped a hand beneath her chin, leaving her nose and mouth free, and, kicking with all her might and sculling with the other arm, she mustered just enough strength to tow her charge a metre or two to the right, out of the raging current and into slightly calmer waters.
As soon as she sensed that they were clear of the whirlpool, all her power seemed to dissolve and she could merely float, exhausted and shivering, staring up at the blank sky. She could feel the force of the current slowly, slowly drawing her back in, but there was nothing that she could do; she had no resources left.
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