Too Close to the Sun

by Jess Foley

  ‘There’s nothing to thank me for,’ he said. ‘I enjoyed it as much as Billy did. And maybe Billy’s right – maybe you should go up there and see for yourself.’

  Grace laughed. ‘Thank you, but I shall take the word of you two men.’

  Mr Fairman laughed along with her, then, turning to Billy, said, ‘Young Bill, come on, let’s go down to the lake and wash our hands, shall we? Get rid of all this soot. And as the ladies have set out the refreshments we’ll have something to eat and drink when we get back.’

  As the two of them moved away together, Sophie said, ‘Perhaps we should have gone up to the top of the tower as well, miss. Next time we’ll go up as well, shall we?’

  Grace smiled. ‘Maybe, maybe. We’ll see.’ She watched as her young brother and the man stopped at the water’s edge. And she knew a sense of happiness that she had not known in so long. Part of it stemmed from Billy’s joy – joy at the fact that he had accomplished something physical, and something that Grace herself, through her protective instincts, would have denied him. To see his happiness as he had hurried towards the tower, to hear it in his voice as he had called to her over the parapet; she had not heard such pleasure in his voice before. Another part of her happiness came from the very presence of Kester Fairman. She knew it, without doubt. Watching as he walked beside Billy, his frame so tall beside that of the boy, she felt a warmth, a completeness that took her by surprise.

  And then Sophie said, in words that would shatter Grace’s peace: ‘I had a letter from Miss Lewin today, miss. She’s coming back to Corster soon.’

  ‘Oh?’ Grace heard herself say. ‘Well – that’s nice for you.’

  ‘Yes, her letter came this morning. D’you know, I never had a letter before in my life.’

  ‘Well – that must have been exciting.’

  ‘Yes, she asked if we had completely moved into our new home, and said that she’s looking forward to seeing it now that it has all our things in it. And Papa said again that I must go to school. He’s been to see two schools. He says I shall make friends there, have schoolfriends my own age. Which is true, of course. But what would be nice, miss, is if you could come to the school and be my teacher. Wouldn’t that be good?’

  ‘Yes,’ Grace heard herself say, ‘that would be good.’

  She heard a sound from above, the honking cries of wild geese, and looking up saw three of the birds, majestic in flight, skimming overhead, necks outstretched, strong wings beating the air. Their cries were plaintive, and seemed to touch a chord within Grace’s heart. She watched the birds until they had flown out of sight, then lowered her glance and took in the sight of Mr Fairman and Billy coming towards them from the lake.

  She felt suddenly lost. What was she doing there? she asked herself. She could see no future for herself, or for Billy either. They were just marking time while she chased shadows and let her life slip by.

  And then Billy and Mr Fairman were close, Billy running towards them, the man following. Billy threw himself down on the rug at Grace’s side and Grace saw the joy in his face.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was close on six o’clock when Mr Fairman hitched up the horse again and they moved back to the trap. As they got in he looked at Sophie and said, ‘We have here one tired little girl who will be relieved to get home and have a nap.’ Sophie protested, but her protests were clearly halfhearted, and as soon as she and Grace were aboard she pressed up to Grace’s side and closed her eyes. ‘We’ll go by way of Upper Callow first,’ Mr Fairman said to Grace. ‘We’ll let Sophie off in the care of her nurse and then I’ll take you on to Berron Wick, if that’s agreeable.’

  Reaching Birchwood House in Upper Callow, Mr Fairman drove the trap into the stable yard and helped the passengers down. Sophie, having been close to sleeping in the rocking of the trap, now became wide awake again and eager to show off her new home and possessions. Standing on the cobbles, she tugged at Billy’s sleeve. ‘Billy, would you like to come and see my rabbit? Her name is Mrs Cottontail.’ Then to Grace: ‘Will you come and see her, miss?’ Then back to Billy: ‘Will you, Billy? Come and see my rabbit.’

  ‘Can we, Grace?’ Billy looked at Grace, and Grace looked at Mr Fairman. He nodded. ‘Yes, indeed, do so – unless you’re in a hurry to get back – are you?’

  Grace shook her head. ‘No, not at all.’

  ‘Good, we’ll let Sophie show the way, then, shall we?’ The mare gave a snort, and Mr Fairman turned to her and said, smiling, ‘What is it, Carrie? Are you bored standing here? You don’t want to be left on your own? Or are you thirsty? Or is it that you want to get back to your true master? Is that what it is? Oh, Carrie, like all females – it’s not always easy to tell what you want.’ He said to Sophie, ‘You take Billy on down to the orchard while I give Carrie some water. We’ll catch you up.’

  ‘Come on, Billy,’ Sophie said. ‘I’ll show you our garden too. We have so many flowers and so many fruit trees.’

  Sophie led the way, skipping across the yard to the rear garden and the path leading down to the orchard. Grace was uncertain for a moment as to whether she should go with them, but then Mr Fairman said to her, ‘Come on, let’s get Carrie a drink, shall we?’ With his hand on the mare’s bridle he led her clopping across the cobbles to the trough. It was almost dry and putting his hand to the pump he drew some cool fresh water. The mare gave a little whinny, then took a step forward and, lowering her head, began to drink.

  ‘There,’ Mr Fairman said, ‘that’s better, isn’t it, old girl?’ He stroked the mare’s neck as she drank, then turned to Grace. ‘There – you see? Sometimes needs can be satisfied so easily, so simply.’ He turned back to the horse and, leaning forward, said in a loud whisper into her ear, ‘If only it were that easy with people, Carrie – what do you say?’ He stood with his back to the house, the horse between him and Grace. ‘We shall be getting our own horse and carriage next week,’ he said, ‘and Carrie here can go back home to her own stable.’ He patted the horse. ‘You’ll be glad of that, won’t you, old girl? All these unfamiliar hands on the reins, I doubt that it’s pleasant.’ Then, almost in the same breath he said to Grace, ‘Thank you so much for coming today.’

  ‘Oh, it’s been splendid,’ Grace replied. ‘And it’s a day Billy won’t soon forget.’

  ‘You think he really enjoyed himself?’

  ‘And still is. You must have seen it for yourself.’

  ‘Yes – but it’s good to have it confirmed.’ He paused. ‘And what about you?’

  ‘Oh, thank you, yes – I had a lovely time too.’

  ‘Well, I’m so grateful to you for coming. It’s meant everything to Sophie. Without you it wouldn’t have been the same.’

  A little silence between them, and Grace said, to cover the quiet, forcing a lightness into her voice, ‘I suppose we’d better go and see Mrs Cottontail, hadn’t we?’

  She half-turned, as if on the point of moving away, then Mr Fairman said, ‘Why are you in such a hurry?’

  ‘In a hurry? I’m not in a hurry.’ She smiled, but saw that his own expression was serious. ‘I’m not in a hurry,’ she said again.

  ‘What is wrong?’ he said.

  He had come out with the question so bluntly, and for a moment she wondered if she had misheard. ‘Wrong?’ she said. ‘Nothing is wrong.’

  ‘Grace.’

  He had again called her by her given name. ‘Really,’ she said. ‘Why should anything be wrong?’

  ‘I know very little about you, but I think I know enough of you to be able to tell that.’

  Grace shook her head: ‘No, really …’

  He shrugged, then, stepping to the carriage, took out the hamper and the rugs. ‘Might as well get rid of these. Give them to Emma.’ Opening the rear door of the house, he carried the things inside. Grace stood on the flags alone for a minute, and then he was reappearing. ‘Would you like something to drink?’ he asked. ‘My cook’s got some lemon and barley if you’d like some.’

&n
bsp; ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’m sure Billy and Sophie won’t need asking twice.’

  They saw that the mare had drunk her fill now, and Mr Fairman said, ‘Had enough, Carrie?’ and took her bridle and led her to the side where he secured her to a stanchion. ‘She’ll be all right here for a while.’ To the mare he said, ‘We’ll get going again before too long, Carrie, then when you come back you can have a nice rest. You’ll have earned it today.’ Then, turning to Grace, he said, ‘Come on, then, let’s go and join the children. I can see you’re hopping to go.’

  Feeble words of protest sprang to her lips, but she held them back. There was something disturbing about his manner towards her at times. It was something in his way and his words that made her almost tongue-tied, so that she feared answering, afraid to say the wrong thing and be left appearing foolish.

  Without looking at her, he turned and started across the yard in the direction taken by Sophie and Billy. Grace stepped out at his side. They walked in silence for a dozen yards or so, then he came to a sudden halt and turned to face her. She stopped before him, just two yards away.

  ‘I would like to talk to you,’ he said. ‘Will you allow that?’

  ‘Well – yes, of course.’ Why would he wish to talk with her? And what about?

  ‘I asked you just now what is wrong, but you didn’t answer. I would just like to know what it is,’ he said. ‘Have I said something to offend you? To upset you?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘There is something. I know there is. You’ve been – constrained – since our picnic. Billy and I, we came back from our climb up the tower stairs and you were – different in some way.’

  Grace looked away. She could feel his gaze upon her, burning like sunlight focused through a glass, and she could not meet his eyes with her own.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘if you won’t tell me, then you won’t tell me.’ He sighed. Then, almost clumsily changing the subject, he added, waving his hand across the near landscape, ‘God, this place is getting so overgrown.’ He was referring to the formal garden, once green lawns, herbaceous plots and clipped box hedges; now, flourishing in the warm May weather and in parts overgrown almost to the point of wildness. ‘A few more months and it’ll start to look like the Abbey grounds,’ he said with a smile. ‘But I’m getting a gardener in a week or so, and he’ll soon have it licked into shape. I shan’t worry about it.’

  From some distance ahead of them there came the sound of Sophie’s voice ringing out on a laugh. Mr Fairman nodded towards the sound, grinned and said, ‘They’re having a good time.’ He sighed again, this time looking directly at Grace. ‘Shall we, then? Go and see Mrs Cottontail? Though we don’t really have a choice.’

  The path took them through the rest of the formal garden, through a spacious kitchen garden and into the orchard. In the centre of the orchard a swing hung from a high apple bough, and nearby on a rough trestle bench stood a rabbit hutch with a grey rabbit in it nibbling on dandelion leaves. There was no sign of the children.

  ‘Where are they?’ Grace said, and Mr Fairman said, ‘Oh, they won’t be far away,’ and then the next moment there came Sophie’s voice excitedly calling as she ran towards them from the little thicket at the orchard’s foot: ‘Papa, Billy found a bird’s nest, a robin’s nest! Come and see.’ Billy was right behind her, and laughing along with her as she clutched at her father’s hand.

  The four of them, with Sophie and Billy leading, made their way from the orchard into the copse, and there Billy, a finger to his lips, moved silently ahead to a shrub in between two silver birches. Coming to a halt, he turned back to face the others, and then beckoned to them. The three moved forward and Billy parted the leaves and exposed the little nest with two chicks in it, the little creatures immediately freezing in their actions, cowering down in the nest.

  ‘Wonderful,’ Mr Fairman breathed, ‘but let’s leave them; let’s not disturb them any more.’

  Quietly the four moved away from the nest. When they were some distance away Mr Fairman said to Sophie and Billy, ‘We wondered where you were. We got into the orchard and there was your rabbit but no Sophie and no Billy.’

  ‘I’d shown Billy Mrs Cottontail,’ Sophie said, ‘and then we went into the copse, exploring. That’s when Billy found the nest. He knows just what to look for. He knows how to find them.’

  ‘He was brought up in the country,’ Mr Fairman said. ‘He’s had experience. You were brought up in London.’

  ‘Papa,’ Sophie said, ‘Billy and I are thirsty. Can we go and get something to drink?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Mrs Lovegrove knows we’re back. I just saw her, and she’s got some nice lemon and barley water, if you want some. Go and see her. We’ll come and join you in a minute.’

  A moment later he and Grace stood in the copse watching as the two children made their way through the trees in the direction of the house. Grace said, ‘Sophie is settling into her new home so well, so quickly.’

  ‘Oh, indeed.’ He stood, looking off. The children’s voices could be heard still, though fading in the soft evening air. ‘It’s just grand for her to be here in the country.’

  ‘And she tells me she’ll soon be going to school.’

  ‘Yes, we’ve been discussing it. She realizes it can’t go on with you giving up your time like this – much as she enjoys it.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure for me to do it. It’s very – rewarding.’

  ‘Well, that’s nice of you to say so. But you have a life of your own to live.’

  Do I? Grace thought, in her mind echoing his words. And what life is that? ‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘But I’m happy to help with Sophie’s teaching as long as it suits you both.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘But it will be good for Sophie, I’ve no doubt – going to school. She’ll make friends, mix with others her own age.’

  ‘That’s what I tell her.’

  ‘She seems to like it so, living here in the country.’

  ‘Oh, she loves it. I don’t think she misses London at all. And – well, I think the country is the right place for a child, I’ve come to that conclusion. And you’re right – she’s settling in so quickly.’

  ‘And what about you?’ Grace said. ‘Are you settling in to your new home?’

  ‘I? Oh, yes. I’m sure we’re both going to be very happy here.’

  The voices of the children had faded to silence. Grace said, ‘It’s been wonderful to see Billy having such a good time today. Such times, they don’t often happen.’ She raised her head a little, looking around her. All about grew trees and shrubs and wild plants of so many varieties. ‘This is such a beautiful spot. So peaceful.’ She suddenly felt infinitely sad. Watching Billy walk away in Sophie’s wake, moving eagerly among the trees, she had seemed to see a difference about him. It might have been her imagination, but she seemed to see a different kind of movement in his walk, as if there was a little spring in his limping step that was not there before. Today, for him, had been something wonderful: he had climbed the tower, he had run in the grass, and he had made a friend in Sophie. For him it had been something of a beginning. While for herself the day seemed to mark the beginning of an ending. There was talk of Sophie going off to school, so there would no longer be any need for the child to visit Asterleigh House. And it was likely, therefore, that Grace would never see Mr Fairman again, for the only times he would be coming to Asterleigh House would be on those infrequent occasions when he came to visit the Spencers. But in any case, she had learned today, Miss Lewin was returning to Corster … And Mr Fairman had asked her was there anything wrong.

  The leaves rustled in the breeze, from high above in the treetops came the evening call of a blackbird. The shadows were lengthening. Grace said, ‘I shall have to go and see Billy in a minute. Then we should think about starting back for home, I suppose.’

  ‘Billy’s fine,’ he said. ‘Any minute now he and Sophie will be served s
ome large glasses of lemon and barley – and a few other good things if I guess right. Don’t worry about him.’

  ‘I don’t worry about him.’

  ‘I think you do, Grace. But he’s stronger than you think.’

  ‘You don’t understand …’

  ‘I understand that he’s your young brother and that you are all he has in the world. You feel totally responsible for him, it’s natural. And especially with the – the injury, to his leg.’

  ‘What about that?’ she said quickly, a little sharply. ‘What are you saying?’

  Surprised at her tone, his eyes narrowed slightly, and he frowned. ‘I’m not saying anything about it. I don’t even know what you mean. What I’m saying is that with the injury to his leg he might be perceived as a little more – dependent – and that’s bound to bring out the protective feelings in an elder sister.’

  ‘No,’ she said quickly, ‘you don’t understand – about Billy,’ and the tears welled up in her eyes, swimming, glistening in the low evening sun.

  ‘Grace.’ He stepped forward, reaching out, one hand briefly touching her wrist before drawing it back to stay clenched before his chest.

  His sympathetic gesture, the note of deep concern in his voice as he spoke her name, the very fact that he had spoken her name – all seemed to force wider the little break that he had made in the dam that held in check her defences. And the tears spilled over onto her cheeks.

  ‘Oh, my dear Grace.’ With his words Mr Fairman stepped closer still, and this time when he reached out for her he let his hand close around hers, and held it there. ‘My dear Grace, what is it? Tell me what it is. What is it about Billy? Please – tell me.’

  ‘I cannot.’ She shook her head. ‘I just – cannot.’

  ‘Grace –’

  With a sudden gesture she moved her hand so that his touch fell away. With her hands moving to her mouth as if she would physically stop herself from speaking, she said in a little burst:

  ‘His injury. It’s all due to me. I did it to him.’

  On its southern side the copse ended on the slope of a gentle hill, and the trees and shrubs gave way to rolling fields, fresh and green with new barley. Grace, turning, almost hurrying from Mr Fairman’s side, had come to a halt beneath a silver birch. Mr Fairman came following in her footsteps, and now came to stand a yard away. As he faced her she turned her head, so that he saw only her lowered profile, the tears running down her cheeks.