by Liz Berry
“He never forgave my mother for running away to London, did he? He wouldn’t see her.”
“He never forgave her. And he never forgave me either. He said I had brought devastation to his house, and he would never speak to me again, and he did not. In a bad year I bought Kenward Farm out from under him. He had extended himself too far. I wanted to frighten him into sense. To make him bring Frances back. But it made no difference. I don’t think he cared any more. He died lonely and bitter. I went to his funeral and laid a wreath for old times’ sake, but that woman took it away. Unnecessary.”
Clare could hear the hurt in the bleakness of his voice. As so often, she didn’t know what he was talking about, but she wished she hadn’t asked about her grandfather. As soon as you scratched below the surface in this place, she thought, you found a festering abscess of hurt and unforgiveness.
“Unforgiveness, yes,” Mr Aylward said, suddenly, into the silence.“That’s where we all went wrong. We did not forgive. In our own petty hurts we forgot the greater trust. We forgot the Benison.”
The weather was very hot. When the sun went down it seemed even more oppressive, not a breeze stirring.
Clare could not sleep. She lay awake thinking of Mark, her body restless, wanting him. She went often to the China Garden at night. Threading the Maze seemed to calm her, tiring her so that eventually she could get a few hours’ rest. Always Tabitha went with her, sitting on the steps of the First Moon Gate, a small guardian.
It was important to get the Maze exactly right. It needed concentration to thread the narrow paths in the right order. It was easy to stumble into another line and lose the pattern completely. It needed moonlight and shadows to carve the path.
Often she fancied she could hear music, a strange archaic pipe music, and she found it was easier to let her body flow to its rhythm. At first she had felt self-conscious, but there was no one to watch, except Tabitha, and she could dance now with a glorious sense of freedom.
Invariably the Maze wound her to the centre and released her for the return, her feet flying faster and faster, swinging out at last to the Fifth Moon Gate. Always she saw the dark shapes near the top of Barrow Beacon Hill glowing with unearthly brilliance. She knew there was something she must do there, but every day she put it off.
“What’s up there?” she asked Mark. They were lying out of sight of the House, in the water meadow where the Great Lake turned into the River Raven again, and wound away broad and shallow.“There is something, isn’t there? Apart from the Barrow, I mean.”
He rolled over on to an elbow and looked at her, chewing on a grass stalk. His eyes were dark, expressionless.“I’ll take you there if you like.”
“When?”
“When you’re ready.”
“How far is it?”
“A stiff climb. Forty minutes, say a couple of hours, there and back.”
She laughed.“Not today then, it’s too hot.”
He lay watching her, his eyes moving over her body, possessive and caressing. He was imagining he was touching her, Clare thought. She blushed and looked away.
“You kept your temper very well with Roger Fletcher.” There had been another shouting match, in the stableyard this time.
He lay back, his arms behind his head.“When you’re as big as I am you have to learn to be careful. I got expelled from two schools for fighting. Then I realized they were just jerking me about to enjoy the explosion.” He looked at her.“Besides, I damn near killed someone.”
“Another boy?”
“My Housemaster.”
Clare’s silent disapproval stung him.
“He always had his hand up my backside. Then he called my mother a trollop, and I hit him. He was a big bloke, but I hit him too hard. Broke his jaw and his nose. He crashed back and hit his head on the corner of the desk. Blood all over the place. He wanted to bring in the police, but it was a top school. Bad publicity. They smoothed it over, but I got the chop.”
“They didn’t let you take your A-levels?”
He sat up, grinning.“That was my next school. I got thrown out of there as well. It wasn’t so much climbing up the tower, it was the banner about the unemployed they didn’t like. On Founder’s Day.”
Clare laughed helplessly.“That’s terrible.”
He lay back.“Yeah. A waste of time. The story of my life. They let me go back to take the exams.”
“Didn’t you want to go to university?”
He shook his head.
Clare hesitated.“Mark, what’s the matter? I mean, you’re not happy are you? Why are you so fed up, so... restless and angry? It’s not me, is it?”
He closed his eyes.“No, not you. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”
He was silent, and she thought he wouldn’t say any more, but he was thinking, trying to work it out.“I was away at school, hating it. My mother got divorced again, and we came back here, and then everything just seemed to fall apart. I’ve been... blocked... in all directions. Nothing’s been right. It’s as though I’ve been forced to wait. I was supposed to go to the Agricultural Institute to study farm and estate management. Roddy Carlton-Winters, my stepfather, was paying, as usual, but I dropped out. I just felt... bad, when I was away from Ravensmere. It sounds crazy, but it’s the truth. I didn’t want to be here, but I couldn’t stay away either.” He banged the ground with his fist.
“There’s some money due to me from my grandfather. I said I’d take it and go but until I’m twenty-one my mother is my trustee and she won’t hear of it. I’ve got to stay, she says. We’re not exactly friends at the moment. I’m bored. Frustrated. Nothing helps. Girls, biking—nothing.”
“Girls?” Clare said.
He looked at her, his eyes dark.“No good. None of them. I knew I was waiting for someone.” His long fingers traced the line of her lips. She jerked her head away, blushing, feeling the instant heat between her legs.“Clare?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I said no!” She was trembling, wanting to give in, wanting to lie in his arms.
“You’re driving me mad, you know that?”
“I ... can’t. I’m not ready.”
He slid his hand up her thigh, under her shorts and briefs, delicately touching, and kissed her on the mouth as her body reacted against him. He laughed softly against her mouth.“I won’t hurt you.”
She pushed him away and sat up, turning her back. She was still shaking.“I’m not ready in my mind. We’re not animals. It’s got to be more than just physical. More than just lying down and doing it in a field.”
He rolled on to his stomach and laughed.
“It’s enough for me—to start with anyway. You could come up to the farm if you’re fussy.”
“Look, I said no.” Clare was angry.“If you’re going on like this I’m going home. I’m not getting involved. I’m not. We’re getting in too deep. You’re going to Australia, and I’m going to university. I’ve worked hard and planned my career.”
He laid his hand around her head and turned it to him, kissing her slowly, gently, almost sadly, as if he was saying goodbye. Then his arms tightened and they were kissing wildly, holding on desperately.
After a while his arms slackened their hold and she rolled away and lay with her back to him, trembling, trying not to cry. He did not touch her and there was silence except for the sound of river water running over pebbles.
At last he said huskily,“Clare, this is something different. You know that, don’t you? I’ve never been like this with anyone before.”
She swallowed her tears, unable to answer.
“It’s forever, Clare. You know.”
She sat up, pushed her fingers through her hair and began to plait it tightly.
“Don’t you?”
“No. Because it’s not true. It can’t be true. We’ve only known each other a little while. It’s just... sex. Lust. I’m not getting involved. I’m going to Sussex.”
He dragged
her round to face him. He was pale under his tan.“Okay. Look me in the face. Tell me that you don’t want me, that you’re not in love with me.”
She jerked away.“There’s no future.”
“You could come with me. Australia, Canada, anywhere you choose. We could get married...”
She sprang to her feet, staring down at him, horrified.“You are out of your mind. Stark raving mad.”
He shook his head, tearing at the turf between his knees, his shoulders hunched.“Run as much and as far as you like, Rosie, it won’t make any difference. You’re mine. We’re locked together. One day you’ll have to admit it.”
Chapter 18
The weather grew hotter, a stifling, damp heat which left them all drained and irritable.
“We need a storm to clear the air,” Clare said, lying flat out in the copse of trees on Raven Hill.
She was living from day to day, trying not to think of the future. Mark was longing to be gone, and she had worked and dreamed of university for three years. She couldn’t give that up. There was no way they could have a future together.
Despite all her attempts to keep a cool distance, not get involved, there was an explosive tension between them, like a parcel of Semtex. Clare wondered how long it would be before it went off and blew them both to pieces.
Mark, his nerves screwed down, wouldn’t or couldn’t leave her alone. He seemed to crackle with an electric tension that threatened to burn everything it came in contact with.
He was watching her. He watched her all the time now, and touched her too, unclipping her bra, moving his long fingers over her breasts under her T-shirt, and beneath her shorts, stroking until she was wild in his arms, exchanging desperate kisses. Ashamed. Out of control. She had imagined that only boys felt like that. No one had ever told her that girls could feel like that too.
Mark was propped up on one elbow. He had taken off his shirt. His broad, muscular shoulders and chest were deeply tanned and smooth, except for the line of dark hair disappearing into his jeans, low on his narrow hips. His dark hair was falling across his forehead, and his eyes were alight with reckless laughter.
Clare looked away. She pushed the hair back from her forehead.“It’s so hot, and getting hotter. I’d give anything for a swim. Where’s the nearest swimming pool?”
He laughed derisively.“City girl. We swim in the Raven.”
“We haven’t got towels or swimsuits.”
He looked at her sideways.“I know somewhere. A pool. Hidden in the trees and rocks. Nobody goes there.”
Clare went red, but she was tempted. She felt hot and sticky and longed to plunge into fresh cool water under green trees. She could swim in her bra and briefs and the sun would dry them. Or she could go topless. People did, on the Spanish beaches, all the time. Nothing in it really.. Except she would be alone with Mark and he would touch her, kiss her…
“I... don’t th...”
“You’re chicken,” he said softly.
Once she was in the water it would be all right, away from his eyes and hands.
He held out his hand and pulled her up.“Come on, I’ll show you.”
They walked around the Great Lake, past the Great Cascade, and the formal elegant pools with statues of the River God and Poseidon. They crossed the Elysium Bridge and took a curving path, deep between mossy rocks and giant ferns and overhanging trees. It was gloomy, almost frightening, Clare thought, and realized it must be the Eleusinian Way that Mr Aylward had talked about.
She began to hang back uneasily. For some reason she had always avoided this part of the gardens.
“We’re not going to the Temple are we?”
Mark did not answer, but strode on, holding her hand firmly.
They came out suddenly into brilliant sunlight, on to the banks of the Upper Lake—the Moon Lake her pamphlet had called it.
It was surrounded by cliffs and thick trees, beech, lime and sweet chestnut, and the hanging woods that climbed the lower slopes of Barrow Beacon Hill. At one end the Raven, trapped in a wild, miniature ravine, tumbled in a double waterfall through rocky outcrops and overhanging stone, into the head of the lake.
But Clare hardly noticed. She was staring at the centre of the lake, where an island floated like a vision from paradise.
The dreaming island seemed to be the centre of an enchantment. The bright stillness was upon everything. No breeze stirred the overhanging branches of the surrounding willows and flowering trees. Only the water moved a little between the thick carpet of water lilies and reeds near the island. There was the perfume of roses and wisteria climbing the column of the statue of Ariadne, holding her ball of twine, and pointing across the water towards the Temple of Demeter hidden among the trees.
Clare moved forward slowly until she stood on the edge of the water. Suddenly she wanted, needed, to go across to the island, but there was something there, some danger. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest.
Mark said,“What’s the matter?”
“Can you go there?”
“The punt’s rotten.”
Disappointed, she saw the old boat floating among the reeds, inches of bright green water lapping in the bottom.“Swim?”
“Mmm... if you know what you’re doing. But dangerous. Tangled roots and weed underwater. It needs clearing out. Neglected like everything else round here.”
“Is it deep?”
“Two or three metres maybe. Come on, we can swim further along. The waterfall keeps it clear.”
Clare did not move.“Have you been there?”
“Once.” His voice sounded too casual.
“What’s on the island?”
He shrugged.“It’s overgrown. Remains of a garden. Trees. Funny rocks. The Temple... Look let’s go.” He turned away.
Clare went on looking at the island. You could hardly see the Temple and yet she knew there were broad steps up to the entrance. That four life-size classical statues in deep niches guarded it, gods of healing and nature: Apollo, Artemis, Asclepius, Pan. Their names were carved in the stone under their feet. And in the grotto beneath the Temple, Demeter and her reborn daughter.
“Are you coming?”
Mark had walked back to her.
“No,” she said,“I don’t want to swim here.” Despite the heat of the day she was shivering.
“Okay.” He shrugged.
He kicked off his boots, peeled off his jeans, and dived into the clearer water, swimming strongly to the waterfall where he pulled himself on to a flat rock and stood under the spray. His head was thrown back, arms outstretched, unselfconsciously enjoying the water streaming over his face and down his naked body.
Clare watched him. Despite his size his body was lithe and very beautiful, she thought. Wide, powerful shoulders tapering to narrow hips. That intriguing line of dark hair, spreading out around his manhood.
Her stomach clenched and reacted. A wave of heat spread over her.
“Come on—it’s great!”
She closed her eyes and swallowed. She had only to step out of her clothes and into the cool water and she would feel his smooth body sliding against her own in the sparkling cascade. And later they would lie down together in the shadows.
She was trembling. She wanted him so much, beyond sense and logic. But it had happened too soon, and there was no future in it, only unimaginable pain when he went away.
Another trap. A different kind of trap.
They were both of them caught, struggling helplessly, like the crane fly caught in a spider’s web Clare had once seen woven across the kitchen window. The more they struggled, the more they were trapped. They were being roped in, lashed down, as surely as the spider had bound the crane fly.
“No,” she said, and walked stiffly away.
Chapter 19
Towards the end of August Clare’s exam results arrived. She held the envelope, feeling sick, unable to open it, and eventually carried it up to Raven Hill, where Mark was waiting for her.
“Ple
ase—you open it.”
He took it from her, ripped it open, and glanced over its contents. He began to grin jubilantly.“They’re all right. Better than all right. Bloody marvellous, in fact.” He grabbed her, swung her round high in the air, and kissed her.
Breathlessly she caught the paper and read it disbelievingly. Biology A, Chemistry A, History B, Maths B. And she had passed the Economics exam she had re-taken at the lower level. She read and re-read it, hardly taking it in. She really could go to university, after all.
She became aware that Mark was suddenly quiet. He was sitting down, his shoulders bent, morosely booting the turf.“What’s the matter now?” she said, impatiently.“Nothing.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“All right. I don’t want you to go.”
“But I’ve worked for two years for this. Five if you count the GCSEs.”
“I know that. I’ve been through it all myself, remember? I know you and your mother have made all sorts of sacrifices. It’s been the thing you’ve been aiming at, and I’m glad that you got such terrific grades. I want you to do what you want ... but ... Oh God, Clare, I just don’t know how I’m going to .. . manage when you’re not here ...”
She felt as though a hole had opened in her heart. The reality of the separation hit her. Never to see Mark again.
She had sworn she would never be one of those women who gave up everything for marriage, a baby and a house, and got restless and resentful because they hadn’t explored their own potential. Over the years her mother had drummed it into her that she must have a career—must be able to take care of herself and her children, in case her husband, like her own father, died unexpectedly, or there was a divorce.
Clare had agreed wholeheartedly, but now, faced with the loss of Mark, she felt her plans for the future, her ideas and assumptions, shatter into fragments. The way to university was open. She wanted to go on studying, wanted to extend herself, find out how far she could go, but not if it meant leaving Mark. The future looked utterly bleak. How could she let him go?
She laid her head against his back, and held him. Mark was going away too, and even if they both stayed, it wouldn’t solve anything. He wasn’t exactly good husband material. She had never dreamed of marrying anyone like Mark. He hadn’t even got a job, and they were too young anyway.