The Snow Angel

by Lulu Taylor

  The other woman nodded, looking apprehensive.

  Cressie went on. ‘Well, now I need to ask you something very important. I want you to keep a secret. It’s a very great thing to ask, I know that, but . . . Ralph and I are hiding here. It’s very important that no one knows he is here with me. As far as everyone is concerned, I’m here on my own. Will you keep that secret for us? Please?’

  ‘Oh miss . . .’ Ursula’s mouth had fallen open as understanding dawned on her. Her eyes took on a sad look. ‘Oh miss . . .’

  Cressie tightened her grip. ‘Please don’t look like that, Ursula. I know how it must seem, but it’s not what you think. It’s not as cheap and tawdry as it must look to you. I can’t explain everything now but I will and then you’ll understand why we’re here, and why it’s a secret.’

  Ursula thought for a moment and then said in a determined tone, ‘You’ve always had a fine character, miss, and I think the world of you, you know that. If you say it’s to be a secret, then a secret it shall be.’

  ‘Your loyalty to my parents won’t be tested, I promise,’ Cressie said, relieved. ‘They won’t ever ask you about this, I guarantee it.’

  Ralph shifted behind them, evidently uncomfortable.

  Ursula leaned into Cressie and said quietly, ‘And will there be a trip across the border soon, miss?’

  Cressie blinked at her. ‘What do you mean?’

  The other woman whispered. ‘To Gretna Green.’

  ‘Oh!’ Cressie coloured. ‘Not yet. No . . . now . . . shall we take our bags upstairs?’

  Ursula left them alone, after she had taken Cressie up to the bedrooms she had prepared, fires in the grate already warming them, and then showed her to the morning room where a supper had been laid out.

  ‘Just cold things, as time was so short. I thought you wouldn’t mind eating here tonight rather than make up the dining room.’

  ‘Exactly right,’ Cressie said. ‘Thank you. Now, you must get home, Ursula. No doubt Maggie is waiting for you.’

  ‘She’s a sensible girl, now she’s twelve,’ Ursula said, putting on her coat. ‘She helps me a great deal. I’ll bring her up tomorrow to say hello.’

  ‘No need to come early,’ Cressie said, colouring. ‘We can get our own breakfasts.’

  ‘Very well,’ Ursula said, not meeting her eye. ‘I shall see you around lunchtime, miss. Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight, Ursula. And thank you.’ Cressie watched Ursula head out into the night, a torch with her to light the way back to Keeper’s Cottage.

  ‘That was awkward,’ Ralph said in a low voice. He was standing in the hall, his hands in his pockets, staring into the glowing embers of the fire there. ‘I wish we could have avoided it.’

  ‘She would have to know,’ Cressie said. ‘She’ll often be here. But she’s fond of me, she won’t tell anyone. It will be best to have her on our side just in case.’ She went over to him and gazed up into his face, her stomach twisting pleasurably at the sight of his fine features and the intense grey eyes she loved so much. ‘And we’re here. Everything’s working out just as we hoped.’

  A smile half twisted his mouth and he took her hand, raising it gently to his lips. Then he said softly, ‘I’m being ungrateful. I’m here, with you, and that is a miracle. I just want to keep our world containing only us, do you see? I don’t want anyone else intruding on it.’

  ‘They won’t,’ she breathed, her pulse racing suddenly. ‘I promise they won’t.’

  ‘Other people won’t understand. They’ll judge us. They’ll judge me, when they don’t know anything about it.’

  ‘That’s why we won’t let anyone else near us.’

  ‘Oh Cressida.’ He pulled her close to him, and she felt the delicious warmth of his body against hers. Her insides felt like molten gold as she looked up at his lips. She had thought of them over and over since that morning – was that really today? It seemed a lifetime ago – when they had kissed her so deliciously. All day she had hungered for them, longing for the time when they would be hers again. He bent down and pressed his mouth to hers, and the next moment they were both possessed by a wild yearning. The kiss grew fiercer and all she knew was that it mustn’t stop. But he pulled away.

  ‘Cressida, you do want this, don’t you?’ he asked, breathless. His fingers dug into her arms where he held her.

  ‘Yes,’ she said fervently. ‘It’s all I want.’

  ‘I don’t know if we can go back from here.’

  ‘I don’t want to go back. I’m never going back.’ She gazed up at him, feeling that all her passion and desire was burning in her own eyes. ‘Don’t you understand, Ralph? We’ve made our decision by coming here. It’s done now.’

  ‘Yes.’ He smiled at her, a sudden joy transforming his face. ‘It is. It’s done.’ He bent to kiss her again.

  Cressida woke, her head against Ralph’s smooth, warm chest, coming to consciousness gently and deliciously. Remembering where she was, and that she was with Ralph, sent a rush of pleasure through her – a first-day-of-the-holidays feeling magnified by the heady memory of the night before.

  Ursula had made up beds in different rooms, so they were squashed together in one, in a small box room with a view out over the garden. Ralph had taken the wall side and his back was pressed against it, one arm around Cressie as he slept deeply, his mouth open just a little as he breathed slowly.

  Cressie didn’t move so as not to wake him, despite her tingling urge to wriggle and stretch with happiness. So now, at last, she was not burdened with that tiresome virginity. She had learned, finally, the secret of what happened between men and women, and it was exactly what she had hoped it would be. When Adam had failed to ignite a spark in her, she’d feared that perhaps there was no joy in sex, or none that she could feel, but Ralph had put pay to that idea. She’d never felt so alive, as he’d slowly undressed her by the light of the candle on the tiny chest of drawers, marvelling over her beauty as he did so. Every touch of his fingers had brought a shivering response. The sensation of his breath on her skin had driven her almost wild. The feel of his warm skin under her fingertips and pressed against her body had left her speechless with wonder that she could feel so much and so intensely. The drag of his fingernail over her breast had made her cry out – it had been almost too much to bear. When at last he had made love to her, she’d expected pain and awkwardness but it had been the most natural and beautiful thing in the world. Nothing stopped their union; they simply melted into one another as though that was how it was always meant to be. She had never wanted it to end, but it had been impossible not to get caught up in that vortex of feeling, to feel the urgency of his excitement and be pushed forward upon it, and when it finished, at last, they collapsed together to a whole new sweetness that she’d never known awaited her: the aftermath of love.

  I want to do it again. Now. She sighed with contentment in the grey light of the morning. It was cold outside their blankets, she could tell. The fire in the minuscule grate had become a small heap of grey ashes. Brrr. This is the first time I’ve been in December House in December.

  The New Year was almost upon them, she realised with another thrill. It felt so grown up to be away from home, hidden away. She had left a letter for her father explaining that she was going to stay with her friends, the Ropers, for a while. He would be pleased, she knew, and would not wonder where she was for at least a week. Then she would telephone and make more excuses and after that she would see what was best to do. She agonised about what to tell her mother but in the end, just as she was creeping in to tell her not to worry, the nurse had barred her way with the sternly whispered injunction not to wake Mama as she was sleeping.

  We have a week at least. I’ll probably be home in a fortnight. Until then, it’s just us. And I want to enjoy every second.

  In deference to Ursula’s feelings, they were dressed and respectable by the time she came at lunchtime, and the other bed had been mussed and clumsily remade so that appearances might be k
ept up.

  But, Cressie thought, Ursula was bound to guess what was happening by the dreamy happiness that must surely show in her face and by the way she and Ralph moved towards each other constantly, as though unable to bear being apart for more than a few moments. Ursula came up to the house with her daughter, Maggie, a quiet girl with the same dark red hair that her mother had, only falling in long ripples around her shoulders. She seemed struck by Cressie and watched her all the time.

  ‘Thank you for coming up, Ursula,’ Cressie said, smiling. She was smiling at everything and everybody. Before they’d got up, she and Ralph had made love again and it had been even more intense and spectacular than the night before. Being able to see his face clearly as he moved was almost too much. The excitement had been wild and intense and she’d been glad no one could hear the cries she’d been unable to suppress. Surely no one else had ever found this extraordinary bliss in their physical connection; this had to be unique to the love she and Ralph felt for one another. Only that could explain this overwhelming pleasure. It’s our secret, she thought happily. How lucky we are.

  ‘You’re welcome, miss. I’ll stay the afternoon and clean and make your dinner. Will that suit you?’ Ursula wore a white apron and cleared away their lunch things briskly.

  ‘Very well.’ Cressie smiled at Ralph, thinking that already he looked healthier. Surely that was a touch of pink she could see in his complexion . . . he’d been white as marble the day before.

  ‘Thank you, Ursula,’ Ralph said. ‘You’re very kind.’

  Ursula stopped for a moment, then darted him a look from under her lashes and said, ‘You’re welcome too, sir, of course.’

  Cressie saw it with dismay. Oh, she doesn’t like him! She thinks he’s my seducer. I can’t bear it.

  She followed Ursula into the kitchen, where Maggie sat on the floor in front of the range, feeding it with logs, dropping them in by her fingertips as close to the range as she dared.

  ‘Ursula,’ she said in a confiding tone. ‘You know what you said last night – about a trip to the border?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’ Ursula gave her a questioning look and then glanced at Maggie, but the girl did not appear to be listening.

  ‘Well . . . perhaps a trip there might be happening sooner rather than later.’

  A look of relief crossed Ursula’s face and she smiled broadly. ‘Well, I am glad about that, I must say. I don’t like to think of you being here without proper prospects, if you understand me. I didn’t want to be a party to it. I expected you to arrive with one of your brothers so it was a shock when you had a young man with you. I know times are changing but I can’t helping thinking it’s not decent. But if you’re engaged . . . well . . .’

  ‘We are,’ Cressie said firmly. It was a lie she told easily and without guilt. Protecting Ralph from censure was more important than strict truth. He was right: the world was going to judge them while knowing nothing of their circumstances. ‘He’s wonderful, Ursula. Really.’

  ‘I’m sure he is, miss,’ the other woman said, more relaxed now. ‘He’s certainly good-looking, I’ll give him that. He’s got a heartbreaker’s looks.’

  ‘Don’t worry, he won’t break my heart,’ Cressie said confidently. ‘I’m very happy, can’t you tell?’ She gazed out of the window over the grey and brown winter landscape. ‘And it’s so beautiful here. I never knew how lovely it is in winter. So bare and majestic.’

  ‘But hard,’ Ursula remarked. ‘Don’t forget that. It’s hard here too. It’s not a soft life at all. No one comes here expecting that.’

  They soon fell into an easy rhythm. They moved into the main bedroom and its larger, more comfortable bed, where they would wake late, make love, and lie lazily together telling each other a hundred different things about their lives – except that, by tacit consent, they did not speak of Catherine or of Ralph’s life with her at all. Then they would make breakfast and after that, Ralph would want to paint. He had paper and a roll of canvas in his bag and together they dismantled the bed in the second largest bedroom and turned it into Ralph’s studio.

  ‘We’ll send to Carlisle for an easel and whatever else you need,’ Cressie said, and she wrote the letter that very day, giving it to Maggie to take to the end of the lane and put in the postbox.

  Ursula and Maggie came at lunchtime, and even though she must have noticed while tidying up that Cressie and Ralph had moved into the main bedroom, she said nothing about it. They stayed until there was a meal ready for the evening, and then trudged off into the darkness when there was nothing more to be done.

  ‘Isn’t she marvellous?’ Cressie demanded, cuddling into Ralph in front of the fire in the sitting room. ‘She brings everything we need. We can stay here as long as we want.’

  ‘She is,’ Ralph said, dropping a kiss on her nose. ‘But can we really stay? What about your parents? Won’t they wonder where you’ve got to?’

  ‘I’ll find a telephone – perhaps up at that farmhouse – and ring Papa. I’ll tell him I’ve gone on to Nina’s house. Honestly, he won’t mind.’ She rubbed her cheek on the soft wool of his jumper. ‘He’s longing for me to be social and see people so I can meet a suitable husband. He’ll want me gone as long as possible, and he’ll believe me too.’

  She suddenly felt bad as she said it. She might be abusing her father’s trust, and soon the bills for food and other things would arrive for him to pay, but it was her mother who came into her mind. Was she wondering where Cressie was, perhaps even suspecting that she was not simply away with friends? December House belonged to her mother, not her father, and it had been her grandmother’s before that. How would Mama feel if she knew what Cressie was doing, right here, in the bed she used to sleep in? Cressie felt hot and flustered with embarrassment at the thought. She’d probably cheer, she told herself. But that wasn’t really why she felt guilty. I’ve left her alone with him. She’s too weak to stand up to him and he’s bound to make her miserable. I should go back. Be with her. I will. But not yet.

  She obstinately closed her mind to everything beyond the here and now. She didn’t know how long she and Ralph had together in this wonderful cocoon of bliss but she wasn’t going to spoil what time they did have by worrying.

  The easel arrived in only a few days, a van puttering up to the house to deliver it along with canvases, stretchers and all the other paraphernalia Ralph needed. Then he began to paint again.

  In the bedroom that had now been requisitioned as a studio, the rug had been rolled up and the curtains taken down. A small sofa was brought up from the study and placed against the wall furthest from the light. Here Cressie sat, reading aloud to Ralph or talking to him as he painted. Sometimes she felt an odd jolt, as though she were not herself at all, but Catherine, curled up on the sofa in the Blackheath studio, tearing up fabric for painting rags and carefully directing the painting work. Once, when she spoke, she almost heard Catherine’s lilting cadence coming out of her own mouth, and it felt very odd. She almost had to fight to get her own voice back. She watched Ralph’s brushstrokes, and the way he loaded paint on his brush and mixed it on his palette to get the shade he wanted.

  ‘You need more Prussian Blue,’ she said one day, watching him. ‘If you’re making the colour for the sky.’

  His brush stopped for a moment, then he looked up at her and smiled. ‘Thank you.’ He picked up a touch of Prussian Blue on his brush and added it to the mix.

  I’ve become his eyes, she thought happily. I knew we’d be complete together.

  One day she picked up some paper and began to sketch as well.

  ‘Let me see,’ Ralph said, interested. He regarded her drawing carefully and seriously. She had sketched the room: the easel and the fireplace and the view out of the window beyond, all done in quick strokes of the pencil. ‘It’s not bad.’

  ‘I’ll never be a portraitist,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m nowhere near as talented as you.’

  He stared at it for a while longer and then said, ‘I can
teach you how to use oils. If you like.’

  ‘Yes please. I would like that.’ She smiled over at him, her heart bursting with happiness. Everything at last had a purpose and that was for her and Ralph to be together.

  She refused to think of a time when it might have to come to an end.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘Emily! How lovely you could come! Get down, Kipper.’

  James pushed away the panting springer spaniel who’d come to greet Emily with a friendly bark and wet tongue, and stood back to welcome her in. He was smart in a dark jacket and a tie, and she was glad she’d dug out one of her few remaining posh dresses and changed into her heels before knocking on the door.

  ‘Thanks for asking me,’ she said, smiling as she stepped into the hall. ‘And for finding me a babysitter. Heidi seems very nice.’

  ‘She’s a good girl. I’ve known her since she was a baby. Hard to believe she’s going away to university next year. Makes me feel bloody ancient. Now, come along. You must meet Mum before we all get started.’

  ‘That would be lovely.’ It was, in fact, the only thing she was looking forward to about tonight. James had been so happy to be able to introduce her to neighbours but it was Mrs Pendleton she really wanted to meet.

  She followed James through the hall, and along a corridor that led off to the side of the house. Emily looked about as they went. It was the sort of place that had clearly been lived in by the same family for years with little done to it – shabby but comfortable, full of furniture and pictures, with nothing matching, a hotchpotch of periods, styles and tastes.

  ‘We arranged the house a while back so that Mum has her own bit. She likes her privacy.’ James stopped in front of a firmly shut door and knocked. ‘Mum!’

  ‘Come in,’ called a voice from behind. ‘It’s open.’

  ‘She often locks it,’ James remarked as he opened the door. ‘Don’t know why she seems so keen to keep me out.’ He grinned at her. ‘I ought to ask her.’