Kate nodded. “And I’d be happy to work late to get the work done in time.”
“Then that’s a deal.” Tim stood up. “And now, I’ll drive you back to your hostel. I know the buses are rather less frequent at this time in the evening.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Spring 1972
“Well, I think it stinks!” Hannah grabbed a handful of knickers from her suitcase and thrust them into the rickety chest of drawers beside her bed. “Here we are, all set to enjoy ten days of glorious Devon sunshine, and you’ve got to go back to work halfway through. The man’s totally unreasonable!”
Kate sat on the edge of her bed and looked through the little square-paned window at the silver ribbon of the River Cockle gleaming in the moonlight below. She sighed. Aidan’s generous offer to drive Hannah, Jo and Beth back to London the Sunday after Easter, hadn’t exactly been welcomed by his sister.
“We can get the train perfectly easily,” she had insisted. But Aidan had overridden her, pointing out what a long journey it would be for Beth who would have to get yet another train from London back to the children’s home in Kent.
“It’s not at all unreasonable, Hannah. It was generous enough of Tim to offer me the job in the first place when I’m totally unqualified for it, not to mention paying me double what I’ve been earning as a receptionist. I’m sure he’d have been happy to give me the time off if it hadn’t been for the publisher’s deadline.”
Hannah slammed the drawer shut. “He still sounds unreasonable to me – your Tim Beecham sounds every bit as bossy as Aidan.”
Kate laughed. “Aidan isn’t bossy; assertive maybe, but not bossy. Nor is Tim, come to that.”
Hannah grunted. “Well, he’s been working you into the ground ever since you started to work for him; it was nearly ten o’clock when you got home last night.”
Kate yawned. “Things will get better once I speed up a bit – it’s my first secretarial job, don’t forget. And he’s paying me well enough, God knows.”
“Talking about Aidan,” Hannah’s mind was on a different tack, “now that you know Jo’s not interested in him, I hope you’re going to follow my advice and make a bit more of an effort to win him over this Easter. He may know a hell of a lot about religion and the law, but he’s pretty thick as far as women are concerned.”
“I’m not going to be throwing myself at his feet if that’s what you mean.” Kate laughed. “But yes, I will try to make myself a bit more appealing to him.”
“Wearing that gorgeous dress of yours on Christmas Day probably had the opposite effect to what you intended, you know. Aidan’s a Quaker through and through – he’d have been more impressed if you’d turned up in sackcloth and ashes.”
Kate smiled. “I should have thought of that at the time. I’ll definitely be sticking to casual dress from now on.” She hung a pair of pristine blue jeans in the wardrobe.
“And the scruffy side of casual at that,” Hannah advised. “Can’t you rip a few holes in your clothes or something? Make yourself look a bit poorer.”
“I’m not going that far! Besides, if I make the changes too obvious, he’ll be bound to suspect something.” She heaved an ancient tome out of her suitcase and plonked it on the bedside table. “Are you sure the sight of me reading Schopenhauer isn’t a bit of a giveaway? Jane Austen’s more my style.”
“Schopenhauer will impress him no end,” Hannah promised. “Not only was he an atheist, he was a pessimist as well. If Aidan thinks you’re being influenced by a man like him, he’ll feel duty-bound to lure you back onto the straight and narrow.”
“Well, I hope he does it quickly.” Kate sighed. “I was looking forward to a bit of healthy escapism this holiday, not a basinful of philosophy.”
“It’s all in a good cause.” Hannah reached for her dressing gown. “And don’t forget to tell him about all the voluntary work you’re doing – that’ll really impress him.”
Kate climbed wearily into bed. “I’m not sure how long I’m going to be able to keep up the Mother Teresa act. I feel a bit of a fraud.”
“Nonsense!” Hannah gave her an affectionate smile. “You’ve been a good friend to me for long enough – and that’s proof enough of sainthood for anyone.”
o0o
“It’s wonderful to be back in Cocklecombe again.” Beth leaned forward so that her rich nut-brown mane of hair totally obscured her face. “I wish I could live here forever.” She picked up her hairbrush.
“Let me do that for you.” Jo held out her hand. “It seems like years since I used to brush my baby sister’s hair every night.”
Beth handed her the brush and smiled. “I always did love you doing that for me, Jo. Mum never had time for little things like that.”
The long shadow of their early childhood fell between them and they were silent. With long, rhythmic strokes Jo began to brush her sister’s hair. The sight of Beth’s bony shoulders protruding through her pink nightgown was infinitely touching and, on impulse, she laid down the brush, put her arms around her and hugged her close. To her horror, Beth burst into tears.
“Beth! Beth, whatever’s the matter? I thought you were delighted to be back here again.”
“Oh, I am, I am. I love it here so much and it’s such a relief to get away from...” Beth broke off.
“From the home?” Jo frowned. “I know you’re not over keen on the place, but I didn’t realise things were that bad.”
“They are now.” Her sobs redoubled.
Jo could feel her sister’s tears seeping through her nightdress.
“But why? What’s changed?”
“Maggie’s left,” Beth gulped. “You hugging me reminded me of her, that’s all – she used to give me a hug like that every night. And now she’s gone...”
A wealth of loneliness hung in the unspoken words.
“Maggie was your housemother, wasn’t she?”
“Yes – she was the Quaker one. And she was so lovely and so gentle and I loved her so much.” Beth blew her nose. “Her father was ill, so she had to leave and move back home to look after him.”
“I see. And what’s your new housemother like?”
“Enid? She’s all thin and pinched, just like her name sounds. She’s awful – and she hates me – and last week she said that if I couldn’t manage to wash my hair faster I’d have to have it all cut off – and she said she’d do it for me.” The words came out in a torrent.
The thought of anyone laying a finger on her gentle sister made Jo’s blood run cold.
“I think I’d better have a word with Enid.”
Beth rounded on her, her eyes huge with fear.
“Oh no, you mustn’t! Please say you won’t – it’ll only make things worse if you complain. Oh, I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”
“All right, all right.” Jo rocked her to and fro. “I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to, but I can’t stand the thought of you being bullied. I’ll have a word with your social worker – see if there’s any chance of getting you transferred to another home nearer to Harrison House. Would you like that?”
“Yes.” Her voice was no more than a whisper.
Jo tucked her up in bed. “Would you like me to read to you for a while?”
Beth nodded. Jo picked up the book from her bedside table. It was Swallows and Amazons.
“I bet you’ve been reading this to remind you of Cocklecombe!”
Beth gave a watery smile. “It’s all about boats and sailing and it reminds me of Aidan... I hope he remembers he was going to teach me how to row this Easter.”
“I’m sure he will. I don’t think Aidan would forget a thing like that – he thinks the world of you, you know.”
Beth lay back on the pillow and closed her eyes. Jo opened the book and started to read.
o0o
An hour later Beth’s tears had gone and she lay fast asleep, one arm flung carelessly across the coverlet. For Jo, however, sleep had proved elusive. As she lay watching the moonlight slanting through the window onto her sister’s face, her mind was full of anxiety. Beth, she knew only too well, seldom complained. Things must be a great deal worse at the children’s home than she had suspected for her to have broken down so badly. If only she could afford somewhere, however modest, where she and Beth could live together – but that dream, she was only too aware, was a long way off yet. And besides, even if she could afford somewhere, she would still have to work all the hours God sent in order to pay the bills. And who would look after Beth while she was out waitressing of an evening? She sighed heavily. Something, it was clear, would have to be done before things reached crisis point. But what exactly?
o0o
“It’s a wonderful day for our picnic!” Kate twitched back the curtains the following morning to reveal a clear blue sky. “It won’t be warm enough to swim, of course, but it’ll be lovely on the beach.”
Hannah surfaced reluctantly from beneath the covers.
“What time did Aidan and Daniel say they’d be here?”
“About ten.”
“They might have made it eleven.”
“Don’t be so ungrateful! They’re bringing the wine and they’re doing all the food – what more do you want?”
“Another hour’s sleep.”
o0o
The six of them set off along the narrow winding road which led out of Cocklecombe. As they passed the church Kate glanced up at the squat Norman tower and remembered, with a stab of pain, the midnight mass on Christmas Eve. How distracted Aidan had been then, barely able to concentrate on the service, and only too ready to make an early escape back to the cottage before the Communion began. Now, as always, her eyes sought him out, as he rounded the corner ahead of her. He and Beth were strolling side by side, deep in conversation, his hand resting idly on her shoulder, his auburn head close to her brown one. Jo, on Beth’s other side, seemed slightly distracted, half listening to their conversation, half lost in a world of her own. No doubt, Kate reflected, she was worrying about her A levels now only two months away. Her earlier fears about Jo had subsided. She had hardly even glanced at Aidan, let alone engaged him in conversation. Kate shifted her beach bag a little higher on her shoulder wishing that she had chosen a rather less weighty philosopher with which to impress Aidan.
o0o
They threaded their way down the steep, rocky incline which led to the beach and spread themselves out on the sand. Rugs, books, sunglasses and suntan lotion were extracted from beach bags, trouser legs rolled up and feet exposed to the sun.
Jo propped herself up against a boulder and opened King Lear. She loved the play, but there were times when the King’s diatribes against his daughters reminded her of her father. She glanced at Kate, lying face down on her rug, her head turned towards Beth who was chattering eagerly beside her.
o0o
Daniel spread out his rug a short distance away from the others. He glanced at Hannah and raised an enquiring eyebrow. She gave a faint shrug and strolled over to join him, seating herself cross-legged on the rug. He handed her the sun cream.
“Better put some on – you know how easily you burn.”
He watched her as she smoothed the cream onto her freckled arms. The wide-brimmed straw hat which she wore cast a shadow over her face. Her normal exuberance was lacking and he detected a pensive air.
“So – who is he?”
She looked up at him, startled.
“Who is who?”
“Him. Your new boyfriend.”
“What makes you think I’ve got one?”
“We’ve been together at least two hours and you’ve not made one single assault upon my person.” He said the words lightly, but he saw her flush. “Is he a fellow student?”
“God no!” Her disgust was evident. “I’m not that desperate. Most of them look as if they’re about fifteen and behave as if they’re twelve.”
“Who then?”
She shifted slightly so that she no longer had to look him in the eye.
“He’s an artist – he has a studio in the attic at Harrison House.”
“An artist? What sort of age is he?”
She was silent for a moment.
“About forty, I suppose.”
“Forty! For God’s sake, Hannah – he’s old enough to be your father.”
She glared at him. “I like older men. You’re older than me yourself; you never had a problem with age before.”
“I’m twenty-five as well you know. There is a bit of a difference.”
She gave a sulky shrug.
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
“You’re really in love with him? Or is it just a lustful infatuation?”
She hesitated. “Can’t it be both?”
“No. Infatuation is a totally selfish emotion. Love, on the other hand, puts the other person first. They’re mutually exclusive.”
“Love, infatuation, whatever. I like to be with him.”
“Preferably in bed.”
She glared at him, scarlet-faced.
“It’s written all over you, Hannah.”
“It’s none of your business!”
His eyebrows shot up. “None of my business! Three months ago, you were my girlfriend. Now you’re another man’s mistress. And you say it’s none of my business?”
“You told me to go out with other men. You encouraged me to!”
“I encouraged you to go out and have fun with male friends of your own age. I certainly didn’t encourage you to rip off your knickers for the first middle-aged roué who passed a flattering comment!”
For a moment, he thought she was going to hit him. Then the anger seemed to drain out of her and he saw the tiredness on her face.
“What did you expect?”
Her voice was so quiet that he had to strain to hear her.
“What did you expect, when I had spent so long trying to seduce you without the teeniest atom of success? I was desperate, Daniel. If you weren’t prepared to give me what I needed, I had to find someone who was.” She gave him a defiant look. “And I’m sorry if you’re shocked, disgusted, or whatever, but I couldn’t help myself. And I certainly don’t regret it.”
“I’m glad. I always think regret is such a waste of an emotion. You should have the courage to be what you want to be, and to hell with the consequences.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Do you really believe that?”
He smiled faintly. “In theory, yes. In practice, I’ve always found it rather difficult to live up to.”
“Oh, I do love you, Daniel!”
She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down beside her. Their lips met and her kiss, once so tentative, now bore the hallmarks of experience. Reluctantly he pulled himself away.
“I love you too, Hannah – and I know I always will. But obviously, this changes things between us.”
“How?” She looked genuinely surprised.
“Well.” Carefully he spelt it out for her. “If you’re sleeping with another man, I’m hardly likely to continue thinking of you as my girlfriend, am I?”
“I suppose not.” She looked thoughtful. “But I might end up coming back to you one day.”
“Well, you might – and then again you might not. But I know you wouldn’t be so selfish as to expect me to hang around indefinitely – just on the off-chance.”
She frowned. “Not indefinitely, no.”
“So, if you’ve embarked on an affair – whether it goes on for a month or a year or for ever – it’s only fair that I should be allowed to do the same.”
&nbs
p; “Who is she?”
He burst out laughing. Suspicion and jealousy were emanating from every pore of her body. Whatever she felt for the artist fellow in the attic, it certainly wasn’t love.
o0o
“What are you reading?” Aidan stretched out his lanky body beside her.
“Schopenhauer.”
“Good grief! And there I was thinking you were a nice Christian girl.”
“I am,” Kate laid down the weighty tome with relief, “but it’s important to consider all points of view, don’t you think?”
He gave her a quizzical look. “I hope you don’t subscribe to his theory that the will is the ultimate driving force of reality?”
She shook her head.
“Schopenhauer might have been influenced by the Buddhists, but he described himself as an atheist.”
“I know.” Kate smiled. “Still, he has the desired effect. A few chapters of his depressing spiel and I can’t wait to get back to some decent Christian book.”
“Any in particular?”
“I’m rather into Christian mysticism at the moment – Julian of Norwich and all that.”
“And all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well,” Aidan murmured.
The ability, which Aidan and his father shared, of being able to come up with an apposite quote for any given occasion, was something which had always impressed Kate. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. He lay on his back, eyes closed, arms outstretched behind him, his head resting on his hands. A slight breeze rippled through his hair, shafts of sunlight setting the auburn strands ablaze. The temptation to lean over and kiss him was almost irresistible.
His eyes flew open and he smiled at her.
“What are you thinking?”
Onwards Flows the River Page 21