A Summer Frost

by Elizabeth Walker

  ‘Come on lad, move along there.’ As she said it she knew he was coming for her and she dived for the nearest door, flinging herself inside only to hear him thud against the wood, squealing in fury. A soft nose touched her and she leaped, but it was only the little pony, welcoming an unexpected visitor. The huge head of the gelding loomed over the half door, peering at them, and the pony snuffled in disapproval. Mary rubbed his neck affectionately. ‘I wish it was you out there, pony. If you’ll excuse me?’ She picked up her broom and thrust the bristles into High Time’s face, roaring at him to go back. At first it only seemed to enrage him but a particularly determined thrust drove him back and he careered off to the far wall, kicking up fountains of snow.

  Quickly Mary slipped from the box and followed him, always prepared to dive into a doorway if need be, but the bait of food and warmth were too strong for the animal’s confused fury. After endless moments of indecision he picked his way into the stable and began to eat. Mary covered the five yards in a second, slamming the door hard, too hard, for the horse came for her as she struggled with the bolts. Once again she wielded her broom, dealing a vicious crack across the nose for this time there was to be no slipped catch. She could not go through this again. So tired she was drained of all feeling, she staggered to the house. The stairs might have been Everest for all the chance there was of climbing them and she sank with her blanket to the floor in front of the Aga. Sleep came as the first hot tears of reaction scalded her cheeks.

  ‘What’s the matter, Mummy?’ Anna was standing over her, brow furrowed and the blue eyes anxious.

  ‘Nothing. Nothing. Just tired. Be all right.’ It was impossibly hard to get to her feet and the baby in her womb was a dragging weight. She leaned against the Aga but there was no warmth. The fire had gone out.

  The coke was frozen together and the metal handle of the shovel burned her hand but she laboured on, some part of her mind watching amazed at the struggles of this pathetic woman. When she saw the man coming towards her it occurred to her that she might stop, but she kept on in case she had imagined him. He looked quite unreal, vast in his layers of clothing, frost caking several days’ growth of beard.

  ‘Patrick?’

  ‘I came as soon as I could. Are you all right?’

  She put a hand to her head. ‘No. No, I’m not all right at all. Oh Pat, I’m so glad to see you!’ Under other circumstances she might have hugged him, but strength had deserted her. She merely leaned against him letting the relief flow through her.

  She slept as never before, without dreams, never wanting to wake. In the evening Brogan brought her some soup and she dragged herself to the surface. The food revived her.

  ‘High Time got out.’

  ‘Oh my God. What did you do?’

  ‘Chased him with a broom. Can we get rid of him, Pat, he - he frightens me.’

  She lifted her eyes to his face and it seemed so dear, so familiar with its odd lopsided cheek that she started to cry and to talk at the same time, telling him just how bad it had been and how much she wished he had been there. At last, when there was nothing left to tell and his jumper was sodden with tears she said, ‘Do you think the baby will be all right?’

  A finger stroked her cheek. ‘Why are you worried?’

  ‘I don’t know, I just feel so tired all the time, even before all this, and the doctor never says anything, just see you next month Mrs Squires, take your iron pills, and sometimes at night I think about it and I’ve been lucky twice after all so perhaps the third time…’

  His arms were round her and her face was buried in his shoulder and none of it seemed quite so bad. After a time he said, ‘Next time you see the doctor I’ll come with you. OK?’

  She nodded sleepily. ‘How did you know to come?’

  “My dear girl, news of the worst weather for over fifteen years even filtered through to Ireland. When I couldn’t get through on the phone I rang Sam Downes and Edna was there and she told me you were on your own. I’d have been here days ago but the airport’s closed, I had to come by sea, and then the motorway’s blocked. I walked from the village, of course. Can’t think why Edna didn’t call for help though, I shall have a few words to say to her. She must have known the power was off.’

  ‘It wasn’t too bad until then.’ A thought struck her. ‘How did you manage with Violet?’

  He laughed and gave her a shove. ‘Move over, I’m freezing. Well, I tried but she made it pretty clear she thinks I’m an idiot. Still, I got enough to make the kids some porridge.’

  ‘Is that all? She’s giving three gallons!’

  ‘She kept knocking the bucket over.’

  ‘Sounds like Violet. If you’re coming to bed hurry up, you’re letting the cold in.’

  ‘Stop grumbling woman, I thought you were glad to see me.’

  Mary gave a contented sigh ‘You could very well be right,’ she murmured.

  The thaw came suddenly in a deluge of cold rain that reduced the white mountains to muddy little hills overnight. The snow plough made a belated appearance, thundering past majestically and deluging the unwary.

  ‘I don’t know why he bothered,’ said Mary, ‘another two hours and you could have wheeled a bathchair up the lane.’

  But the children were thrilled and rushed about being ‘snow ploughers’ and throwing things at people. At lunchtime the lights came on and in mid-afternoon Sam Downes’s Volvo drove in. ‘Hello, Edna,’ said Patrick pointedly.

  ‘Hello, Paddy. I didn’t know you were here.’

  ‘And where the hell have you been for the past week?’

  ‘At Sam’s. I couldn’t get through, you know that.’

  ‘You didn’t damn well try, you mean. Have you any idea what Mary’s been through up here alone? Now you may have had your differences in the past but leaving her in a mess like this was damn nigh murder!’

  Edna stood before him, head bowed, fists clenched. Brogan drew breath for another onslaught but before he could begin Sam Downes stepped forward, placing an arm protectively round Edna’s bony shoulders.

  ‘Now see here young man, Mary’s your responsibility, not Edna’s. It’s you who should never have left her here, baby coming and all. And it so happens that Edna was taking Mary’s calves to market that day, which is why she was stranded and might have frozen to death for all you care.’

  Brogan’s blue eyes took in the spectacle of Edna’s head resting on the shoulder of the burly farmer and his lips twitched. Rubbing his mouth he said mildly, ‘And where is the wagon? Or is that too much to ask?’

  ‘It’s in my yard,’ snapped Sam. ‘Diesel’s frozen. And what you can be thinking of getting a lady like Edna to drive that great thing I do not know, the steering’s far too heavy. You’ve been taking advantage of her!’ Sam brandished a thick finger under Brogan’s nose and he took a pace backwards.

  ‘Er - I can assure you I’ve never - well, let’s talk about this another time, shall we?’ He made as dignified a retreat as he could, well aware that he had been routed.

  ‘Did you see that?’ he chortled to Mary.

  ‘I thought I was imagining things. Sam and Edna!’

  ‘I thought he was going to challenge me to a duel. He says I’ve been taking advantage of her.’

  ‘Oh dear. Well, I suppose he only means work and so on, and anyway that’s true.’

  ‘Like hell it is. Look, he’s going.’

  They watched in fascination as Sam plonked a large kiss on Edna’s waiting lips and turned to go. But passion was too strong and he returned to clasp her once again in a lingering farewell before finally steeling himself to leave. Edna went into the house, flushed but triumphant. No one knew what to say.

  ‘Did you have a nice time at Sam’s?’ asked Mary innocently and Brogan succumbed to a fit of coughing.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ said Edna primly. ‘Oh, by the way Paddy, I shall be out tomorrow night. Sam’s taking me to dinner.’

  ‘Oh. Good of you to let me know.’


  ‘Well you’ve been taking it for granted that I’ll be around most of the time and I think I should warn you that it’s not going to be like that in future. Now, what is there to do?’

  Within a week of Patrick’s return High Wold House was in full swing once again. One cryptic phone call brought Susan rushing back and Tim had returned from Ireland with the dozen or so horses Patrick had bought. These were careering round the long meadow and Mary could make nothing of them.

  ‘You can’t see anything for hair and mud,’ she complained.

  ‘They’ve all got four legs, if that’s what you mean,’ replied Patrick, lighting a cigarette. ‘We’ll smarten three or four up and sell them on, the rest will just have to hang around until we’ve time to do something with them.’

  ‘But that could be months!’

  ‘You know that and I know that, but Fred wants to be a horse trader, thinks it’s easy money, the silly sod.’

  They were preparing the jumpers for the start of the season but they were beset by problems. The weather was cold and wet and the horses worked reluctantly, laying back their ears and clamping their tails against the wind. A constant interruption was the procession of girls for Mandy’s job, mostly inexperienced, idealistic and unsuitable. Patrick eventually took on Carol, just out of school and appallingly shy but from a farming family and with some real idea of what the work entailed. She was very pretty, with auburn hair, freckles and a creamy skin that turned scarlet if anyone spoke to her. She was happiest with the horses and for once Edna did not take it upon herself to lick her into shape. Indeed, Edna was altogether changed and lived only for the moment each evening when Sam arrived to collect her. She was allowing her mannishly short hair to grow and took to wearing tweed skirts and boots in place of the ubiquitous jeans. Whenever she thought of the affair Mary mentally crossed her fingers, for the new Edna, if more glamorous, was also more vulnerable.

  Chapter 14

  Doctor Bateson looked up in surprise as Brogan accompanied Mary into the consulting room. ‘Oh. Good morning, Mary. And Mr er…?’

  ‘Brogan. Mary asked me to come with her.’

  ‘I see.’ He was distinctly chilly. But then he turned to Mary, his face softening, and said, ‘And how are you today, my dear?’

  ‘Very well thank you, doctor.’ As always when she was in the surgery the little speech she had rehearsed deserted her and she told the meaningless lie. Brogan stepped in, his manner brisk and determined.

  ‘Rubbish Mary, you’re not at all well. She’s very tired, Doctor, feels sick and faint. And she seems to think there could be something wrong with the baby, for no real reason. It’s worrying her and I - I don’t like to see her so upset. I want you to reassure her.’

  The doctor stared at him over his spectacles for a long moment.

  ‘We shall do what we can, Mr Brogan.’ His tone became gentler. ‘Why have you not told me this before, Mary?’ She shook her head and mumbled something.

  ‘Well, let’s have a look, shall we?’ He ushered her to the couch and pulled the screen, shooting Brogan a look of dislike before he disappeared behind it. If the man was so worried about her he could marry her, couldn’t he?

  The examination was long and thorough but the doctor made no comment until Mary was dressed. He looked thoughtfully at their tense faces.

  ‘As far as I can judge,’ he said slowly, ‘there is a healthy but rather large baby in there. Now, if you wish I can make an appointment at the hospital for further tests but I really see no need. You are feeling tired, Mary, because you are working too hard and if you remember I had to speak to you about that when you were pregnant before.’ He waved an admonishing finger at her and she blushed. ‘The prescription is a few days’ holiday and at least two hours rest each day. Now be off with you.’

  They rose to go, laughing with relief.

  ‘Oh Mary,’ added the doctor, ‘I take it Mr Brogan will be present at the birth?’

  ‘Yes, doctor, of course,’ said Mary blithely and skipped out.

  ‘I will not!’ declared Brogan as soon as they were outside, and watched the happy glow die from her face. ‘I mean - do you want me there?’

  ‘Of course I do! You’ve no idea, you need someone on your side in these places or they bully you to death. Please Pat - will you?’

  ‘All right. If I’m home.’ He resolved to make quite sure that he was not.

  ‘You can come to the February show,’ he said cheerfully as they drove home.

  ‘Is that the holiday?’ She should have seen this coming.

  He nodded. ‘Two days in a hotel. Want to come?’

  ‘I don’t have to cook or anything?’ He shook his head. ‘Then, yes please.’

  It was only later that she became dubious, thinking of the curious stares of all Patrick’s friends. It was the hotel that decided her, two days when she would have nothing to do. She pushed her doubts away and thought of the clothes she would pack instead.

  According to Patrick it was a small indoor show but the lines of expensive wagons gave Mary pause for thought, as did the prize money set out in the programme. Even Patrick looked surprised when he saw the huge television vans parked near the entrance but after some enquiries came back with the news that they were filling in here because the football had been rained off.

  ‘You’d better ring Fred, he’ll want to watch,’ said Mary and Patrick looked sour.

  Pat and Edna knew everyone and once the horses were stabled they lost no time in catching up on the gossip. Mary felt out of it and mooched around disconsolately hoping no one would notice her. Suddenly Pat remembered she was with him.

  ‘Mary - you’re there are you, trying to hide or something? Come on, I want to introduce you to Tom Spence, I used to work for him.’

  ‘How do you do.’ She was immediately attracted to the small man with the weathered face and saw with horror that he was looking unashamedly at her bump.

  ‘You never said you were married, Pat. And going into production too, you don’t waste your time, do you?’

  Mary licked dry lips but Patrick merely laughed.

  ‘You can come to the christening, Tom,’ he said easily and Mary felt a spurt of annoyance. He had it all ways, for as long as he wanted, for he knew she would not stand up and declare the truth in front of everyone.

  ‘Come round for a drink,’ Pat was saying, ‘we’re staying just down the road.’

  She felt happier when they reached the hotel. It was small and cosy, with a log fire burning in the hall and pot plants at every window.

  ‘Name of Brogan,’ said Patrick and Mary once again ground her teeth. He was too good at this. She noticed a tall woman standing staring at them, beautiful in narrow velvet trousers and suede jacket, her honey blonde hair caught in a heavy bun at the nape of her neck.

  ‘Paddy,’ she said softly, and he turned at once, the colour draining from his face.

  ‘Barbara.’ They said nothing for a long moment.

  ‘I didn’t know you were married.’

  ‘I’m not,’ said Patrick.

  Mary supposed she was in shock. She had asked for the key to the room, requested that tea should be sent up and had told Patrick with a brilliant smile that she was sure he and his ex-wife had much to discuss and she would go and lie down. He did not appear to have heard her. She climbed the stairs on legs that did not tremble and sat calmly on the bed waiting for the tea. After all, she told herself, this was bound to happen sooner or later. But why, oh why, now? Once the baby was born she was sure Pat would feel tied to her by more than the bonds of convenience, but these were slim threads when Barbara was here looking so wonderful and she was so huge and unlovely. There was a knock at the door and the motherly proprietress brought in the tea.

  ‘Now dear, you put your feet up and have a little rest, I know how tiring it can be. Is it your first?’

  ‘No, my third.’

  ‘Ah, then you do need a rest, I’m sure. Is there anything else I can get you?’ She withdrew
and Mary sat and wondered how much she knew. Surely she would have given some sign if there was a passionate reunion taking place downstairs? The tea was scalding hot but she drank it in furious sips. The second cup was almost finished when Brogan came upstairs.

  ‘Is there any more tea in that pot?’ He was a little pale but otherwise quite normal.

  Mary pushed the tray towards him. ‘She’s quite a stunner, isn’t she?’

  Brogan nodded. ‘I’ve asked her to have dinner with us tonight.’

  ‘You’ve what?’ shrieked Mary, forgetting all her carefully planned restraint. ‘With me in this condition and her looking like a fashion plate? You must be joking.’

  ‘She is bringing her husband,’ said Brogan mildly and Mary’s mouth formed a round ‘Oh’ of astonishment.

  She dressed for the evening with exaggerated care but the final result depressed her.

  ‘I look like the side of a house,’ she sighed. She was wearing a deep blue floor-length caftan, braided at sleeves and hem, which usually made her feel relaxed and feminine. Tonight she just felt huge.

  ‘Come on, you look super,’ said Brogan, taking her arm. He was very cheerful, which only depressed Mary further. It was what she would expect of someone fanning the flames of a broken romance.

  Barbara and her husband were waiting in the bar. She was exotic in a plum-coloured woollen catsuit, gathered at the ankles, with a gold slave collar round her slim throat and gold bracelets on her wrists. Her husband was as tall as she and very good looking with an aquiline nose and piercing brown eyes. He was wearing a white polonecked jumper and collarless jacket, making Brogan’s suit and tie look staid in the extreme. Barbara slid sensuously from her stool and took Brogan’s hand.

  ‘Paddy, I’d like you to meet Darrell.’

  They were treated to a flash of white teeth before Darrell ordered champagne cocktails, much to the consternation of the lady behind the bar.