'What a road!' Antonia's derisive comment focussed her attention on the immediate present. 'It's more like a track. And do you see that notice?' .
Rowan did indeed. It informed travellers quite unequivocally that the road was unsuitable for traffic in winter conditions.
Antonia shuddered. 'Thank God I intend to be well away from here before the winter!'
'But you said . . .'
'None of my plans include settling down in this backwater,' Antonia said dismissively. 'Why, Carne doesn't even spend that much time here himself.' She changed down again. 'Where the devil is this house?'
'It's right ahead of us,' Rowan said almost laconically, No other house, she supposed, would have six-foot stone gateposts each surmounted by a carved stone raven.
Antonia turned the car cautiously into the gateway and up a steep gravelled drive, bordered on each side by a rocky wall supporting a mass of rhododendron bushes just coming into bud.
They seemed to be literally on the side of the mountain and still climbing, and as they turned the last curving· bend, it was obvious why. Raven's Crag seemed to have been built as an extension of the rock itself. It was starkly modern in concept and yet seemed to blend in better with its surroundings than a more traditional design might have done.
Above them, a large stone platform jutted out, supporting a covered terrace with glass roof and walls, with a view, Rowan realised, of the whole valley beneath. Beside this, a flight of stone steps led upwards to an entrance at present hidden from view at the side of the house. Below the terrace, and facing them, a row of wide workmanlike doors concealed garages and stores.
'What a marvellous place!' Rowan got out and stood drinking in her surroundings.
'For mountain goats,' Antonia said sourly as she joined her. 'I hope there's someone to carry our cases up those steps.' .
Rowan looked about her. 'There doesn't seem to be anyone about at all,' she said doubtfully. 'Shall I go up and ring?'
Antonia leaned back against the car and lit one of the despised cigarettes.
'What a splendid idea,' she approved rather mockingly. 'I can see you're going to be a tower of strength, my dear.'
Rowan went up the steps two at a time, glad of the opportunity to stretch her legs after the hours of travelling. At the top, a massive door confronted her. There didn't seem to be a bell, but there was a massive wrought iron door-knocker in the shape of a raven's beaked head and Rowan used it without hesitation. The noise seemed to echo and reecho through the house, and was followed by a long and deep silence.
It seemed an eternity before Rowan heard a shuffling footstep approaching. The door swung open and she was confronted by a small slender woman with very white hair. Her face was lined and she leaned heavily on a stick, but her eyes were blue and clear.
'The door,' she said in a quiet precise voice, 'was not locked. You were expected.' She looked Rowan up and down, missing nothing from the brown hair parted in the middle today and tied into two bunches to the denim-clad legs. 'You must be the child Rowan,' she commented. 'Where is Antonia? Why is she not with you?'
'She's dawn by the garages. We were wandering whether there was anyone to help with the luggage,' Rowan said rather helplessly.
The woman raised her eyebrows. 'There's myself.'
'That isn't exactly what I meant,' Rowan said uncomfortably.
'Then I'm afraid you must manage as best you can,' the other one said with finality. 'There's no one else. Now you must forgive me if I don't await your return, but I find it difficult to stand far any length of time. I shall be in the drawing roam-the door on the right. Perhaps you and Antonia would care to join me far tea.' She gave Rowan a cool rather remote smile and limped away.
Rowan returned back dawn the steps rather more slowly. Antonia looked up as she approached and threw away her half-smoked cigarette with an impatient gesture.
'You've taken your time,' she said. 'Where is everyone?'
Rowan lifted one shoulder. 'There's no one except for an elderly woman who I gather is Sybilla.'
'No one at all?' Antonia's lips parted disbelievingly. 'But where's Carne? He must be around somewhere.'
Rowan turned towards the boot of the car.' Apparently not,' she said shortly. 'If you'll give me the keys I'll start getting the stuff out. There's some tea waiting far us.'
'Tea?' Antonia gave a strident laugh. 'I'll need something stronger than tea after a day like this!'
She picked the smallest case and started up the steps with it, leaving Rowan to follow with the rest of the luggage as best she could. Rowan was panting by the time she reached the tap again. The front door was standing open and she walked through and dumped the cases and the typewriter dawn on the gleaming honey-coloured parquet floor with a feeling of relief.
She straightened herself, moving her shoulders ruefully, and took stock of her surroundings. It was a large square hall, and very light. When she looked up, Rowan realised that she could see right up to the roof of the house, which at this point seemed to consist of a massive skylight. The upper floors were reached by a wrought iron spiral staircase. A table stood against one wall, its antique surface glimmering with polish and reflecting back the lines and colours of the great pottery bowl filled with spring flowers that it bore. This and an old oak settle standing beside the stone fireplace which, though empty now, was obviously used to complement the central heating, was the only furniture. '
The door on the right that the elderly woman had referred to was standing ajar, and feeling rather selfconscious, Rowan walked across and pushed it open. Again, her most immediate impression was one of space and light. One entire wall of the drawing room was glass-enormous sliding doors giving way to the terrace. The floor was covered by a magnificent' Persian rug, and seating was provided by three luxuriously padded tweed-covered sofas in shades of cream and oatmeal and placed to form a large square with the fireplace. A small table had been set in front of one of them and a tray with a teapot and delicate looking cups and saucers had been placed on it. Antonia was lounging on one of the adjoining sofas, her face set in discontented lines.
'Oh, there you are,' she said ungraciously. '1 hope you want some of this tea. I'm already in Sybilla's black books because I asked for a gin and tonic instead.'
'She walks very badly.' Rowan came forward and sat down wearily. 'Couldn't you have fetched it yourself?'
Antonia gave her a surprised look as she lit another cigarette. 'Yes-if 1 knew where dear Cousin Carne kept his booze. I did enquire, as a matter off act, but it appears to be a closely guarded secret. One of a number as far as 1 can gather.'
'What do you mean?' Rowan lifted the teapot and' poured herself some of the fragrant brew, adding a slice of lemon.
Antonia gave a slight shrug. 'Sybilla's being very odd although heaven knows I should have expected that. But when' 1 asked her about staff-because no one will ever convince me that she's solely responsible for all this spit and polish-she became extremely cagey and pretended that she didn't know what I meant.' She leaned forward and irritably tapped a breath of ash from her cigarette into' the enormous carved stone ashtray on the table. 'I only hope she means to be co-operative. This whole business is quite hellish enough without having to battle with her all the time.'
'Oh, do hush!' Rowan felt most uncomfortable. 'She'll hear you.'
'Probably. But I can assure you that nothing I've said will come as any great surprise to her. We never got on, not even when I was a child.' Antonia gave a faintly satisfied smile. 'Frankly, she's never approved of me wholly.'
The sound of Sybilla's stick tapping on the parquet was clearly heard and Antonia relapsed into silence. Rowan jumped up as the older woman entered.
'Let me take that for you.' She reached for the tray that Sybilla was carrying with some difficulty.
'Thank you, child.' Sybilla looked quite through her. 'But I'm not yet in my dotage.' She set the tray down in front of Antonia and directed a quelling glance at her
. 'When you've finished your refreshment, I'll show you the house.'
Rowan sat down again, feeling rather limp. It was clear that as far as Sybilla was concerned, they were not welcome. Could it be that she felt they were depriving her of a home, she wondered?
Yet Sybilla's own words soon disabused her of this notion. 'No doubt it will take you a day or two to become familiar with the layout of the house,' she was saying. 'You'll find it's been designed to take advantage of the light wherever possible. On the first floor there's a central gallery and two wings opening from it. You and Rowan will occupy rooms in the East Wing, and share a bathroom. Carne's rooms are in the West Wing, and his studio is directly above them. That's one area where your services are not required. Carne looks after the studio himself, and no one else enters it without his express invitation. When he's not here, it's kept locked.'
'And the remaining rooms?' Antonia drew deeply on her cigarette.
'Guest rooms and bathrooms. Carne entertains widely, as I expect he has mentioned to you.'
'He hasn't mentioned very much at all. And while we're on the subject of Carne, where is he? I was expecting him to be here to meet us.' .
'Carne is in Barbados,' Sybilla said blightingly. 'And even if he were not, I doubt very much whether he would concern himself in staffing matters. I understood the position had been made clear to you.'
There were two bright spots of colour glowing in Antonia's face. 'Oh, it's dear enough,' she said. 'You may choose to consider yourself as staff here, Sybilla, but I don't. I've come here because it happens to suit us both for the time being. If it amuses Carne to pretend to you that I'm only the housekeeper, then I'll play along for a while. Why not? But please don't imagine you have to remain to oversee my efforts. I'm sure that's the last thing either of us want.'
'I have no intention of being any kind of overseer,' Sybilla said. 'But I'm afraid you've been misled about my continuing presence in this house. I have a small self-contained flat at the rear of the ground floor. This is my home and will always remain so. But you need have no fears-I value my privacy and have no intention of undertaking any supervisory role where you are concerned.'
Antonia ground her cigarette butt savagely into the ashtray. 'How utterly delightful.' Her voice was brittle. 'It's a deal, then, Sybilla. You keep out of my way, and I promise to keep out of yours.'
'Just as you wish.' Sybilla turned to Rowan. 'Would you like some tea, child? I'm afraid this hasn't been much of a welcome for you, after your long journey. There are some freshly baked scones in the kitchen if you would like to fetch them.'
Rowan moistened dry lips with the tip of her tongue. 'I'm not hungry, thank you, but another cup of tea would be lovely.' As Sybilla poured the tea, she searched frantically for another topic of conversation. 'We--we came through the village. It's very pretty.'
'It is,' Sybilla agreed as she handed her the cup. 'It's also very quiet, and this house is very remote. What will you find to do with yourself all day long? I understand you're sixteen. Should arrangements be made for you to continue your schooling?'
Rowan felt herself crimson, and managed to stop herself shooting a recriminatory glance at Antonia.
'I'm nearly seventeen, actually,' she said improvising desperately, 'I've left school.'
'Did you sit the public examination?' 'Yes. I passed in nine subjects.'
'I see. Yet you didn't feel it was worthwhile continuing with some form of further education. That seems a pity.' There was a reproving note in Sybilla's voice. She turned to Antonia. 'Could you not have persuaded the child to continue with her training.'
'Oh, Rowan does as she wants. She was never terribly devoted to school, were you, sweetie?' Antonia lit another cigarette, her face bland as she looked at Rowan.
Rowan said grimly, 'No, never,' and took another sip of tea to fortify' herself.
'But you really don't have to worry about her; either, Sybilla. She'll keep herself occupied somehow. Youngsters these days always seem to be busy doing comparatively nothing.' ,
'Hmm.' Sybilla's back was rigid with disapproval. 'Then I daresay she'll be able to help you with the housework. I presume she's capable of that at least. Now, I'd better show you to your rooms.'
Rowan hastily swallowed the remainder of her tea and rose as Sybilla struggled to her feet. She would have liked to have proffered some assistance, but realised the kind of rebuff she was risking.
The rooms turned out to be the best part of the day.
Rowan found hers quite charming with its green and white sprigged wallpaper, and the plain dark green cover-on the continental quilt. Curtains in paler green hung at the window, which looked out over the valley, and the glint of water in the distance. With its white-painted furniture, it was very much a young girl's room, not unlike the one she had occupied in Surrey, and Rowan felt a pang of nostalgia as she looked around her.
Antonia's room was an altogether more opulent affair in brown and gold, and she was standing looking round her in evident satisfaction when Rowan came in search of her.
'Carne doesn't stint himself,' she remarked.
'No.' Rowan came straight to the point. 'What's the idea of giving Sybilla the impression that I'm some kind of slob?'
Antonia shrugged casually. 'If she disapproves of you, then she's less likely to start asking awkward questions, and I thought you'd prefer that. She can be like the Grand Inquisitor when she gets going. That's one of the things I've always disliked about her.'
Rowan gave her a long look. 'I don't mind her questions. I've got nothing to hide. The three years discrepancy in my age was your idea, not mine, although I'll never understand what possessed you to say such a thing.'
'Can't you?' Antonia sat down on her silk-covered dressing stool and took her lipstick out of her bag. She began to outline the full curves of her mouth with elaborate care. 'It's quite simple really. I've been saddled with this stepmother bit, but I don't have to like it. And while a child is one thing, a grown woman's quite another. Besides, Carne doesn't know everything about the terms of Vic's will. I had to tell him you were in my care. He wouldn't have swallowed that if I'd told him your correct age--so--' she shrugged again.
Rowan said softly, 'Just as long as we're not still here in two years' time when I become twenty-one, because then I shall be off, Antonia, and you'll have to tell your Cousin Carne any story you please.'
'Don't worry, darling.' Antonia replaced the lipstick in its gold case. 'If I'm still here in two years' time, it will be because I'm Carne's wife, and 'you'll be free to go, just as soon as that joyous day arrives.'
'Then I have a vested interest in making sure it does arrive,' Rowan said bitterly. 'You can count on my support, Antonia.'
'I'm delighted to hear it. It seems there's cold chicken and a salad waiting for us in the refrigerator this evening, but from tomorrow we're on our own-literally. Just before Sybilla left me, she informed me that no other help is kept. It seems, there used to be, but now there isn't illness in the family or some such thing. So we have this great barracks of a house to look after between us, honey child.' A glint of rare humour appeared in Antonia's eyes. 'I'm beginning to think bankruptcy might have been easier after all.'
Perhaps it might at that, Rowan thought soberly as she went back to her own room. Antonia seemed confident that she could ultimately wind Carne Maitland round her little finger, but he was calling all the shots at the moment. Her heart sank. All the cleaning, and the cooking as well! There would be no end to it, and she did not even dare contemplate what would happen if the guest rooms Sybilla had mentioned began to fill up.
That blasted boutique, she thought crossly. I wonder how much money Antonia owes him altogether? Surely she could have repaid him in some other way than this. I've a feeling he's going to expect his pound of flesh and some over.
Rowan saw no reason to change her opinion as the first fortnight at Raven's Crag pursued its tedious way. The house was as labour-saving as the ingenuit
y of twentieth century man could make it, but it was large, with vast expanses of glass and pale surfaces which needed constant attention. Antonia's constant grumbling did not help either, and nor, for that matter did Antonia herself for much of the time. She talked a lot about how much there was to do, and she was quick to notice if anything had been overlooked, but her activities were largely confined to a little desultory dusting and flower arranging in between sporadic visits to Keswick, the nearest large town to Ravensmere.'
One of the more obvious disadvantages of the deception over Rowan's age was that she was unable to drive the car, even though she had passed her driving test while she was in the Sixth Form. She had assumed, of course, in the circumstances that she would accompany Antonia on her visits to Keswick, but this was far from being the case. There always seemed more perfectly good reason why her stepmother preferred to go 'alone. Rowan was disappointed. She would have liked to have a look round Keswick, and seize the opportunity of buying some fresh food while she was there too. Antonia seemed hell bent on filling the large freezer in the walk-in pantry which led off the kitchen with convenience foods, and she ignored Rowan's protests.
Sara Craven - Summer of the Raven Page 4