A Stranger Light

by Gloria Cook

  Maureen secretly put her hands together in prayer. ‘Do your best, Mummy,’ she whispered, more intent on that than the awesome sight of the sea through the large bay windows. ‘We both need Mr Tris.’

  Following the directions Faye had given her, Susan quickly reached the fence near the cliff edge and hurried along beside it until she was on the cliff path. It was narrow and well trodden by generations of feet, with springy grass either side. There was no beach beneath the fifty-foot drop of cliff here. Having taken little notice of the sea until now, Susan found the magnificence of miles and miles of blue-green waters, the constantly undulating expanse, and the clouded horizon that stretched on and on in both directions and far away, thrilling and for a moment frightening. It took her breath away. With so much sky above she had never seen so much of creation before. She felt small and insignificant, yet this pressed on her the desire to seek her own happiness, to make whatever passage of time she had on the earth meaningful and fulfilling.

  Careful not to snag her legs on prickly golden gorse, feasting on the sight of crops of pink and purple heather, she kept her eyes ahead, hoping to see Tristan. She had no idea what she would say to him, she hadn’t rehearsed a word. She trusted her instinct that he’d immediately forget his humiliation in the farmyard and be glad to see her. After twenty minutes, she reached the boulder and saw the tiny trail bearing downward to the dip. Before she had completed the climb down to the dip, she was horribly disappointed to see Tristan wasn’t there. A swallow was soaring high above and gulls were wheeling as if in some gleeful game over the heart of the ocean, but they and nothing here gave her a clue to whether he had been here today. It was a perfect place to come and think. The pale grass was pressed down in several places. Tristan had sat here often.

  Surmising he must have walked further on today, she returned to the cliff path and carried on. She was bound to see him. He had to come back this way eventually. Looking out to sea, she saw the clouds that had once been far away had come closer. Before they had been fluffy and white sitting along the edge of the sea, but now they were a billowing mass, ominously dark in the middle. It unnerved her for a second. Everything on the coast seemed more powerful, with a sense of a sweeping immutable energy, and again she felt small and unimportant. But she had been important to Tristan. She had a tinge of doubt and prayed she still was, hoping those menacing clouds weren’t mocking her and she had left things too late.

  She went on for about a half mile and saw to her dismay the path divided, the second grassy track running inland amid dressings of brambles, gorse and fern. Which way had he taken? Climbing up on a bank she peered all around hoping to spot him, but the landscape was empty apart from the flora and some rabbits bobbing about. She hoped the other path came to a dead end. She’d stay here and wait. She became aware of a cool wind starting up and the sky darkening and she turned round to face the clouds. They were coming inland quickly. Bringing rain with them.

  Tristan got back to Roskerne under the tempestuous sky. Any second now and the heavens would open up. He sighed. He had promised the children if it rained he’d watch a play they had made up. Mark would have brought them up from the beach and they were probably rehearsing up in the attic, where they liked to play. He wasn’t in the mood. He wanted only to be alone. To think about Susan, even though he could never have her. He couldn’t let her go out of his head yet. He’d steel himself for the children’s performance. They needed lots of attention until they felt settled again. How was Maureen coping? He worried about her all the time. How was Susan? Would she speak to him if she saw him again? She must be feeling a terrible sense of rejection. He had been made to feel a fool, his heart had been crushed, but he had taken it out on her. Faye would be with her by now. How would Faye find her? What would she have to tell him? He pictured various scenarios, fretting about Susan and Maureen. He was such a fool, weak and pathetic. How could he have hurt the woman he loved? It should have been he who had gone to Little Dell today, to beg Susan to forgive his coldness at the very least.

  He was climbing the steps up to the terrace and was surprised to see Maureen come running out of the house. ‘Maureen! What are you doing here? Is something wrong? Is your mummy inside?’

  ‘I saw you coming from the windows, Mr Tris. Mum went looking for you. Didn’t you see her? Miss Faye told her where to find you.’

  ‘I did a circular walk today. I didn’t come back by the cliff path.’

  ‘She’s come to beg you to take us back. Don’t go to Scotland, Mr Tris!’ Maureen threw her hands about to emphasize everything she said. ‘Stay at Tremore. Please! You like Mum, don’t you? She likes you too. She told me so. She talked about you all last night. She said she misses you. She doesn’t want to work for Mr Fuller. She wants to be with you at Tremore.’

  Maureen was an imaginative child, and Tristan didn’t dare allow himself any hopes that he might mean something to Susan. The reality must be that Susan had come to ask for her job back. Whatever the outcome, at least he could be glad about that. ‘You know it’s wrong to tell lies, Maureen.’

  ‘I’m not, Mr Tris! I swear.’

  ‘Well, you go inside with the others and I’ll go back and meet her.’

  ‘She’s been gone ages.’ Maureen had been forgiven by Bob and allotted a part in the Smiths play, but she didn’t think anything about acting out some drama now. She turned on the tears. ‘What if she’s got lost? What if she’s fallen off the cliff? She might be hurt and scared.’

  ‘I’m sure she’s perfectly safe, Maureen. I’ll make sure she is. Now I’m trusting you to be a good girl.’ He dashed down the steps. The first fat drops of rain began to fall. He ran on. He wanted to get away from the house. Whatever Susan had come to say he wanted to hear it from her while they were alone.

  As the rain hit her face, Susan decided she must hurry back to Roskerne. Keeping her head down as she went forward she turned often to see if Tristan was coming back and was behind her. Soon she was saturated, the wind buffeting her, occasionally threatening her balance. Her sandals were wet and muddy and her feet were sliding inside them. She was cold and hugged her body. She got as far as the place above the dip and looked back, rain dripping off her now-straggly hair and blinding her eyes. It was hard to see far into the distance but there was no sight of him. Where was he? Surely he wouldn’t stay out in this weather? Perhaps he was sheltering somewhere. That must be it. She hoped he was all right.

  Tristan strode along as fast as he could, keeping a hand to his brow to keep raindrops out of his vision. He saw Susan with her back to him. She must be looking for him. His heart went the several hundred yards distance to her. She was huddled up and he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and protect her. Could it really be that Maureen had told him the truth? Why else was she staying out like this in the pouring rain? Had she actually realized she cared for him and wanted him? Any moment now and he would be sure. ‘Susan!’ he shouted loudly but his voice didn’t reach her through the wind and the surge of the ocean.

  She turned. Pushing her sodden hair back from her face she looked ahead and saw him. At last! She waved both of her arms with enthusiasm.

  Tristan intended to wave back but instead his arms reached out to her. Susan really had come to him. Now his heart was soaring with everything beautiful. He could hardly believe it but it was fantastically true. ‘Susan!’

  Susan sidestepped the path and ran towards him on the spongy grass. He wanted her as much as before. Her hours of emotional agony were over. She had followed her instinct and her heart and had been gloriously rewarded. She heard him calling her name. She called back. ‘Tristan!’

  They quickly closed the gap on each other. When Susan almost reached him she slowed down, careful about his sore ribs, then she put herself into his open arms. He brought his arms around her and fastened her to him. They clung to each other, hugging tighter and tighter. He took her face inside his hands and lifted tendrils of dripping hair away from her lovely wet skin. ‘I can’t believe
you’re here like this, Susan, darling.’

  ‘I’ve wanted to see you so much. I thought you wouldn’t mind me coming,’ she caressed his strong shoulders then ran a fingertip along his chin.

  ‘I don’t mind anything you do. I never shall. I love you, Susan.’

  ‘And I love you, Tristan.’

  They stood in the drenching weather pressed into each other. Tasting their first kiss of sweetness and promise and wonderful drops of rain.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘It’s all been finished off beautifully, Tom,’ Lottie said, after he had showed her over the renovations to his section of Ford Farm, all done to keep the olde worlde personality of the farm’s late eighteenth-century origins. They were sitting at the table of his sparkling kitchen, once the old play room, and which boasted a new Cornish range and tiled floor. Redundant furniture had been brought down from the attics, and with a couple of the Jack Russells padding about and some of the numerous cats cleaning themselves or dozing, slit-eyed, up on the window sill, it all looked familiar and cosy. ‘Jim and Alan have done you proud. You and Jill must be thrilled.’

  ‘We are. There’s only the door at the foot of the old back stairs connecting us to Mum’s wing now. There are two distinct homes. All we need now is three or four noisy brats running about.’ Tom sighed wistfully over the mug of coffee he was nursing between his big rough hands.

  ‘That will happen. Jill’s not worrying about it, is she?’

  ‘She’s fretting a little. We’ve been married nearly two years and have never done anything to stop babies happening.’ So as not to tempt fate, Tom and Jill had decided the room intended for a nursery was to be left undecorated for now. ‘At Uncle Tris’s wedding, Jill said he might be producing a baby now he’s got a younger bride. All in good time for us, I suppose.’

  ‘I hope there’ll be good news soon. You’ll make wonderful parents. Jill’s a wonderful person. She’s forgiven me for being so tiresome with her. I’m so pleased you’re happy, Tom.’

  ‘Thanks. And you, Lottie? We haven’t really talked for ages. Are you and Nate getting along better now you’re on your own? Do you regret giving up your share of the farm?’

  ‘I miss it here a lot, but actually I’m quite enjoying running our temporary home. Deciding what we shall eat. Establishing our routine. Nate is good with Carl. They adore each other. Both Nate and I are making an effort to meet each other halfway. We’re beginning to behave more like a proper little family. I feel a little more hopeful now.’

  ‘I’m sure that once you get your own place everything will work out fine. Nate’s a good bloke.’

  ‘Yes, he is. I’ve never really doubted that. He’s out scouring the land agents again today. He’s so determined to find us the right farm. I’m leaving it to him. He says he won’t insist on a place if I don’t like it.’ Nate was behaving strangely, but rather than being cross and suspicious about it, Lottie was thoughtful. He was kind and buoyant. He said he had made new friends and would be introducing them to her soon, promising her she’d eventually receive a wonderful surprise. He was meeting these friends at least twice a week, staying out for varying lengths of time. They were apparently heavy drinkers, for he always came back smelling strongly of alcohol. Once he had returned late, drunk and hardly able to climb the stairs. He’d been apologetic about his hangover the next morning, but light-hearted and bubbly too, and she had been intrigued and not angry at all. He was finding a way to settle down into his new life and she was content with this. He was secretive, making quiet phone calls and slipping luxury goods, which he could only have got off the black market, in and out of the house. It didn’t worry her. None of the items were for women. He had even asked her to make a batch of yeast buns, explaining that they were a favourite of one of his friends. All this made Nate mysterious. It excited her. She liked that. She liked being with Nate. The spark of love they’d had seemed to be rekindling. She hoped.

  She patted her swollen middle. ‘I hope we find somewhere before this one’s born. At least I’m not torn about the future like poor Faye is. It’s a pity Fergus Blair turned up. The children have been back at school for two weeks and she’s still putting off a decision about Blair’s proposal. I’d hate to have so many things to consider. I think she should face the small-minded gossips and damn them! It’s awful that she feels she might have to give up her home, everything she’s come to love. She and Susan have agreed on the way the house should be run. She could be enjoying life as one big happy family. Blair’s coming down again soon. I hope he doesn’t press her to make up her mind.’

  ‘Me too. From Simon’s point of view though, it’s good for him to know his father is interested in him. He won’t inherit anything from Fergus Blair except perhaps for some money, but if he was able to choose for himself he might like to grow under his father’s roof.’

  ‘But at the moment he’s growing up in his mother’s home and is set to inherit his grandfather’s property. It’s a hard choice for Faye. I don’t envy her.’ Lottie glanced up at Tom under her eyelashes and leaned closer to him. ‘There is a complication.’

  ‘Oh? What’s that?’

  ‘I wouldn’t normally say anything, but as I’m not here to keep an eye on Faye, I think someone should know that she’s in love with Mark Fuller. He’s not returning her feelings, and I’m worried it might become a factor in Faye’s final decision. It’s a little easier now he’s living at Rose Dew, but even so, he’s too close by for her to simply forget him.’

  ‘Poor Faye. I’ll make a point of going over to see her, try to get her to open up to me.’ Tom got up to go out to the yard. ‘Well, I’d better join Jill. She’s helping Tilda to bottle preserves at the moment. We’re going to be clearing ditches and leats today.’

  Lottie put the empty coffee mugs on the draining board. ‘It’s brilliant how you love doing so much together. Carl is out for a walk with Mum, Pappa and Paul. I think I’ll take a stroll and call on a few people, starting with Elena Killigrew. She’s due any day now. I’ve knitted a matinee jacket for her baby.’

  ‘You knitting, Lottie!’ Tom laughed. ‘You’d better be careful, you’re in danger of getting domesticated.’

  Putting a light coat over her skirt, smock and cardigan, Lottie headed down the short hill to the ford, crossing over the few inches of water on the long slab of granite at its side. It was a cheery early autumn day, but suddenly she was feeling less optimistic. It hit her hard how she was missing the simple things that were so familiar to her. The trickles of the rushing of water, or the dry ground of the ford bed, depending on the weather. The contours of these hedgerows, the field gates she had climbed or vaulted over. The horse chestnut tree rich with shiny red-brown chestnuts for conker contests, which would be presently fought hotly by Hennaford’s children. She had not thought it all through at the time she had forsaken all this for her marriage. There was still a lot to be resolved between her and Nate. They were trying hard to make their marriage work, making compromises, mainly putting the other’s needs first, but there was still that underlying tugging apart. They were shielding themselves. Both were careful not to talk in depth. Neither had said sorry for their previous selfish behaviour. She wondered how much they were kidding themselves they could stay together forever. If it went wrong it was going to be awful spending the rest of her life with him. They might end up being counted in the soaring divorce rate.

  The road forked to the left leading to the village. She took the right-hand fork, soon rounding a tight bend to begin the short distance up the steep hill to Ford House. The closer she got to the large white-painted house, set behind a grassy verge and a dry stone wall, the more edgy she became. She was nervous to face the heavily pregnant Elena Killigrew. It would be an uncomfortable reminder that she herself was to give birth in about four months. But Elena, with her tranquil, God-trusting ways, was just the person she needed to talk to. She was nursing the hope that some of the peace Elena always managed to retain would rub off on her, and su
bsequently her own labour and delivery wouldn’t be so painfUl and frightening this time round. She needed a way to stay calm if she wasn’t going to succumb to panic when her pains started. She couldn’t help herself, but if she heard horror stories about women having harrowing childbirth experiences she went over and over them in her mind, and every old wives’ tale she knew. About women who had suffered debilitating postnatal depression. Labour that went on for days and trauma to the body, and women and babies who had even died. The majority of women were safely delivered of live, healthy babies, and she had to fight to keep this fact in her head.

  A dry brown oak leaf floated down off a tree behind the hedge and she caught it. It was fragile and rustled in her hand. She squeezed it and it disintegrated. It was silly to compare herself to the natural fate of a dead leaf, but she felt it was a premonition. What if giving birth to this baby destroyed her? She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Carl motherless. Of never seeing Nate again. She had known that terrible fear throughout his war service, acutely so when, not so many miles away on the River Fal, he had left on a troop ship for the Normandy landings. She was transported back, caught up in her first love for Nate. She loved him and she needed him, needed to be with him and it didn’t matter where. She wanted a happy marriage, a wonderful life with him, just like Tom and Jill had together, and she was terrified of being incapable of providing the loving self-sacrifice he deserved.

  Besieged with panic, her heart thumping madly with the desire to flee, she shot off in a run, clutching her tummy to support her bump, puffing with the effort of the sharp climb. She wasn’t the praying sort, but she’d ask Elena to put her hands together for her, to ask the Almighty to show her a way to save her marriage. She heard what sounded like a feral cat howling, and it made her insides leap and she burst into tears. She was praying now, praying that Elena was home and was alone. She needed Elena’s support and the understanding Elena would surely offer as much as she needed the breath in her body.