by Claire Wong
“And is the map safe?”
“Safe?”
“No one’s taken it away, have they?” If the stranger with the false smile had already confiscated it before the debt was paid, he feared it might be lost for ever.
“Oh, of course. Don’t worry. It’s in its usual spot, and looking more map-like these days.”
“But Beth –” Kit’s mother ignored this discussion to protest – “you’ve had to use a walking stick to get from your sitting room to here. Surely that means you aren’t well enough to be up and about!”
“To be honest, it’s getting hard to tell what’s chronic illness and what’s just being very, very pregnant. I’m slow on my feet and my joints ache, but I can’t be sure why. Still, I can sit here for a few more minutes until Sean takes over and I can rest. Do go through. This week’s Wi-Fi password is on the chalkboard in the guests’ sitting room. If you’d like anything to eat or drink, I can call through to the kitchen from here and get Nick to bring you something.”
“In that case, could we have a strong coffee, a green tea, and an orange juice? You do seem to have grown since last time I saw you. It can’t be long to go now.”
“I’m thirty-eight weeks yesterday, though they say first babies are usually late.” Beth picked up the phone. “I’ll call your drinks order through then.”
They went into the guests’ sitting room, and found Bert there, frowning over a newspaper crossword. Kit waved cheerily to him but Catherine gave only a silent nod of acknowledgment. Kit sighed and realized he probably was not forgiven yet for wandering off in search of the albatross.
She led them to some chairs on the opposite side of the room from Bert, and ushered Juliet into the most comfortable-looking one.
“There you go, love. Do you want to see if there’s any news yet? It’s two minutes to eight.”
Juliet had already opened her inbox on her phone, and seemed not to hear Catherine at first.
“Nothing,” she said. She refreshed the page. Kit looked over to Bert, who was still engrossed in his puzzle, and decided his mother would not like it if he went over to talk to him.
“It’s still early, of course. Have you got anything else you can read while you’re waiting?”
“She can borrow one of my books.” Kit pushed them forward on the table for Juliet to see. When she did not respond, he figured he might as well decide which one he was going to choose this morning. He had been reading more stories of Greek heroes, and had got to Theseus and the Minotaur, but today he did not feel like picking that one back up. Maybe Beth was right and all the books he’d read were making him see villains and princesses in towers everywhere. There was one book in the set he’d brought that wasn’t a hero’s adventure. It was a paperback about a boy and his friends solving a mystery. Kit decided to try that one instead.
It was now ten minutes past eight.
“Perhaps they send the emails out in alphabetical order,” Catherine suggested. “In which case, there’s a few letters for them to get through before Fisher.”
Juliet’s phone buzzed and her eyes snapped back to it. “It’s from Amy. She got six eights and four nines.”
“Yes, well, that girl never did really apply herself,” Catherine muttered.
“Amy’s surname is after mine in the alphabet. Why haven’t I got my results yet?”
“I don’t know, love. I’m sure it will be soon. Wait a bit longer, but if they don’t come through, then why don’t you just call the school office? They’ll have the results there: they can read them to you over the phone.”
Juliet tried refreshing the website one more time and then took out her phone. “What’s the school’s number, Mum?”
Kit tried to ignore them and the growing tone of urgency in their voices and movements. It was starting to make him anxious, but there was nothing he could do to help. He focused on the book he was reading, trying to picture the locations as if they were before his eyes. If he tried really hard, he might be able to block out the sounds around him.
“I’m going to have to go now – it’s nearly half past and I’ve got to be on this call. They do need me. Keep trying to get through and let me know when you find out, OK? Kit, wait here with your sister.”
She withdrew to the dining room next door, leaving Juliet poring over her phone as though her life depended on it, and Kit trying very hard to be absorbed in his book. Once his mother had closed the door behind her, though, Kit put his book down and went over to Bert. He sat in the chair opposite him, and the birdwatcher looked over the top of his newspaper.
“Hello there, Kit. What’s got your family in such a frenzy today?”
“It’s results day for Juliet. She’s finding out what grades she got in her GCSEs.”
“Ah yes, I do recall what that’s like. Although we called them O Levels in my day, and there wasn’t nearly the pressure there is on you young people now. You know, some of my students make themselves ill trying to do everything at university. Which of course makes it impossible for them to work as well as they could. Terrible cycle to get into. And I’m quite sure it starts in the schools. Yes, well, your sister has my sympathy. Still, I remember you saying she was clever. I dare say she’ll have done fine.”
Kit was tired of everyone talking about Juliet and feeling sorry for her, when she was the best at just about everything. He changed the subject.
“Aren’t you going out birdwatching today?”
“No, not with those clouds looming. Forecast says there’s a storm on the way, and I don’t want to be outside when it gets here. I don’t suppose you like crosswords?”
Kit said that he did, and Bert offered him the paper. A few were already filled in, so Kit read aloud the first one that had yet to be solved. “‘Direction of feathers in hospital room’, eight letters. It’s got feathers in it, so you should be able to get this one, Bert.”
“Just because it has feathers doesn’t make it a bird.”
Kit scrunched up his face and re-read the clue. It had to be a bird, and one that had something to do with medicine.
“Is there such a thing as a doctor bird?”
“Um, yes, as a matter of fact. It’s another name for the swallow tail humming bird. A beautiful, iridescent little thing that you can only find in Jamaica. But that’s more than eight letters, so I’m afraid it can’t be the answer. Not a bad guess though.”
“Oh. I don’t know then.” Kit put the paper down and stared at the ceiling for inspiration.
Bert chewed the top of his pen. “Downward.”
“It’s an Across clue.”
“No, the answer. See, ‘down’ is what young birds have for their feathers, and a ‘ward’ is a room in a hospital. Together they make the word ‘downward’, which is a direction.”
He wrote the answer into its boxes. His handwriting was messy, even when forming capital letters.
On the other side of the room, Juliet stood up suddenly.
“Hello, Miss Carter? It’s Juliet Fisher. I’m trying to access my results, but I can’t see them. I don’t know if there’s a problem with my email account. Can you help me?” Holding the phone to her ear, she hurried out of the sitting room and into the hallway to take the rest of the call in private.
“Well, sounds like the suspense will all be over soon enough. Listen out for the sound of cheering or tears.”
Juliet was not the sort of person to cheer at her own success. Kit decided that silence was likely to indicate good news. And he wanted to think about something else for a while. He asked Bert if he knew about the albatross poem Beth had mentioned to him the other day.
“You mean the one about the ancient mariner? Yes, my younger son bought me a book about famous birds in literature once. A very long poem, as I recall, and not an entirely happy one.”
“Why not?”
“Well, the mariner kills the albatross, and soon regrets it, as the crew of the ship think he has brought them bad luck by doing so. The mariner is made to wear the alb
atross around his neck as a constant reminder of his mistake and his guilt.”
“But you told me albatrosses are huge.”
“Quite. Birds have hollow bones, which makes them less heavy than a mammal of the equivalent size, but even so, a dead albatross would be a serious weight to carry around. I wonder if the poet knew that.”
“How does the story end?”
“Hmm. Good question. I don’t remember. I recall something about the poem being symbolic though… Wasn’t it an image of how a person is weighed down by guilt, reminded of their past mistakes all the time, but that God wants to take it away and give you a fresh start? Something along those lines. I don’t know – it’s a long time since I’ve read it – and as I’ve probably said before, words aren’t really my thing.”
Kit hoped it was a happy ending. He didn’t much like the thought of the dead albatross, or the mournful mariner being taunted by his own actions over and over again. He’d always pictured God as a stern old man who would have wagged a finger and joined in berating the mariner. He hoped Bert and the poet were right instead; it was a kinder and more accepting image that left him less anxious. Out in the hallway, they heard the front door slam.
“Have you seen Maddie?” Kit asked. She was the only person at Askfeld Farm he knew who would close a door with so much force.
“Since the day with the letters, you mean? No, our paths haven’t crossed in a while. I think Sean said she had gone into town yesterday, and I was out most of the previous day. I went onto the moors in search of black grouse. Got into a bit of a pickle with a particularly miry spot – should have paid better attention to where I was putting my feet. Still, nothing that a bit of dry cleaning can’t mend.”
“Did you see any?”
“Any what?”
“Grouse.”
“Yes. Four, in fact. Not to mention some buntings and warblers.”
Kit sighed. “I only wanted to help her – Maddie, I mean. I think I made things worse though.”
If it was Maddie he had heard coming back in, at least she had not come into the guest lounge where Kit would have to face her again. That was something. Bert tried to fold his newspaper up but could not make the pages stay flat, so gave up and let it fall to the floor in a heap. “Well, I don’t know about that. I’m sure you meant no harm by it.”
He seemed uncomfortable. Kit considered that Beth would have responded quite differently, with kindness and confidence and something wise. Bert just wanted to be polite. He was beginning to see that not all adults were alike, especially in difficult situations.
Bert stood up. He tried to stretch, but stopped abruptly when his shoulders clicked. “Did you hear that? Never take your joints for granted!” He walked over to the wicker basket where Sean had left a selection of other newspapers and magazines for guests to read. As he did so, he passed the window overlooking the garden. “Good heavens, there’s somebody out there!”
Kit did not see why it should be so surprising for someone to be outside, at a place where visitors were free to come and go as they chose. However, when he joined Bert by the window, he understood.
The rain Bert had predicted had already begun pelting down. It was not the sort of weather anyone would willingly go out in. Yet there, on the grass, lay a body. It was too far away to recognize, but it was a round figure, with hair that might have been naturally dark or simply rendered that colour by the rain. The person was lying on their side, one arm stretched out past their head. On the grass beside them lay something long and thin. What was it? Kit strained to see. It could be a toy sword, like the ones he had seen at Scarborough Castle. No, that was not it. It was a walking stick.
“Beth!” he shouted, and ran to the front door. The reception area was deserted, the white-painted hall cold and quiet. Kit hurtled out into the rain, which bore down on him as if it wanted to drive him back indoors. But he was not deterred. He sprinted across the grass to where Beth lay. Her clothes were soaked through, but her eyes were open.
He knelt down next to her. “Are you OK?”
She did not reply straight away.
“Please be OK.”
“I’m fine,” she then managed, slurring her words as though she was struggling to force them out of her mouth. “Just need some help getting back up. But don’t worry about me.”
Bert caught up with them now, having covered the ground at a slower pace. “What happened?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”
“I tried to go after her,” Beth said, turning from her side onto her back. “She was in such a terrible state. But I didn’t have the strength to keep up, and then I didn’t even have the energy to stand any more.”
Kit and Bert exchanged a look. “I guess Maddie’s still angry with me then,” Kit said. The slamming door he had heard must have been the sound of someone leaving, not entering, the building.
“Never mind that now,” said Bert. “Can you sit up, Beth? We need to get you back inside if you can make it. It’s not good to be out in this weather – not in your condition.”
By now Kit’s clothes were drenched too. He dreaded going back inside and facing the despairing comments of his mother or Juliet. Both would demand to know why he couldn’t have spared the two seconds it would have taken to pick up his coat on the way out.
“No… that’s not right…” Beth was mumbling something as they helped her raise herself up. “I have to…”
“Don’t worry about Maddie; she can take care of herself. She may be older than you, but she’s healthy and fit. She can make her own way back through this.”
Beth was now sitting upright, propped up on her arms with Bert supporting her back.
“I think we might need a bit of extra help to get you back indoors. Kit, can you go and fetch Sean or Nick? Tell them not to worry, but we need someone stronger than an old man or a boy to help us.”
Kit would have preferred to stay with Beth but knew he could bring help faster than Bert could, so he ran back inside. In the hallway, he paused. He knew Sean was upstairs getting the rooms ready for the new guests, and that Nick would be in the kitchen. It would be quicker to fetch Nick, as he was nearer. This was logical enough to gloss over the fact that Kit knew Sean would want to be told first, or that Kit was still nervous of Sean, even though Beth had set him straight on his theory about the villainous plot.
He burst into the kitchen. Nick jumped, and dropped the saucepan he was taking down from a high shelf.
“What have you been told, kid, about coming in here?”
“It’s an emergency!” Kit cried. “Beth’s not well and she’s outside and can’t walk and you need to come now and help her!”
Nick left the saucepan on the floor and followed him out to where Beth was slumped on the ground. The rain had become lighter now and more mist-like as the clouds sank lower over the cliffs. The water droplets did not attack Kit any longer; they simply hung in the air and latched on to him as he made a path through them.
“Anything broken?” Nick asked.
Beth shook her head.
“The baby OK?”
She nodded.
“Then let’s get you inside first.”
He put her arm over his shoulders and motioned for Bert to do the same on the other side. They helped Beth rise slowly to her feet.
“Can you walk?”
Beth moved her head, but it was not clear whether she was giving a positive or negative answer to his question. Very slowly, Nick and Bert began to walk towards the house, with Beth taking unsteady steps between them. Kit picked up her discarded walking stick and carried it back with them.
“How long was she out here for?” Nick asked the others.
“I’m not entirely sure, to tell you the truth,” said Bert. “She was sitting at reception first thing this morning. And then when I went to the window we saw her. But there was a good hour in between where she might have been inside or out here.”
Nick looked serious. “I’ll go and get Sean as soon as we’re back inside.
He’ll know what to do.”
They brought Beth into the guests’ lounge, as it was the first room with proper chairs in it. Nick took one of the throws from the back of the sofa and draped it over her as she sat, dazed and shivering, in the armchair by the fire. He went back to the hallway and shouted Sean’s name up the stairs. Kit heard the responding thud of feet on the wooden steps.
“What happened?” he asked the others as he saw Beth and ran across the hall to her.
“She went out after Maddie in the rain. She was lying on the ground when I found her,” said Kit.
“Did you fall?”
“No,” Beth answered, her voice little more than a whisper. “I just ran out of strength and had to stop.”
Sean shook his head. “You were supposed to be resting today,” he reprimanded her. “I wouldn’t even have agreed to you being on reception if you hadn’t insisted.”
She pulled a face, and looked as if she wanted to reply, but the effort of the words she had already spoken had left her without any further resources.
“Is she going to be OK?” Kit asked. Nobody answered. Sean sent Nick to fill up a couple of hot-water bottles and bring another blanket.
“Whisky’s normally the thing to warm you up inside,” Bert chipped in. “My father always used to have a hot toddy if he’d been caught in the rain while fishing.”
Sean did not look up at him as he replied, “Not at thirty-eight weeks pregnant, it isn’t.”
“Ah yes, of course. Quite right.”
“I’m going to call the doctor and see if he can come out here. I want to be sure there’s nothing more seriously wrong, either with Beth or the baby.”
As Sean telephoned the GP’s surgery, Bert withdrew to one of the other chairs and said nothing more. Kit was watching Beth intently, and it seemed that she had recovered a little energy now, for she looked directly at him.
“Kit,” she said, her words still strained, as if forming each syllable cost her dearly. “Look.”
“Look at what?” Kit asked.
“Look. Out.”
Was it a warning? Had Beth seen something else from the cliff-top garden? He wanted to ask her more, but at that moment two people entered the room and changed the atmosphere entirely.