Fortune's Lead

by Barbara Perkins

  ‘No, I’m not!’ I said, injured. ‘I just thought she was your—I mean—’

  ‘She’s a very nice girl,’ Kevin said coolly, ‘but she isn’t my girl-friend, if that was what you were going to say. I got dragged into this bridle-path committee of hers, that’s all.’ He gave me a sudden odd look of alertness. ‘What is it to you, Charlotte?’

  ‘Well, I thought you were—I certainly thought she was interested in you!’

  ‘If you’re trying to lay up embarrassment for me, don’t. If you’re just being tactless, don’t. By the way, why wouldn’t you go and see the Damons? They’ve asked you twice, haven’t they?’

  ‘I didn’t think I ought to go out when Henry was—’ I stopped, wishing suddenly that we didn’t have to keep talking about Henry. ‘You’d better have your sweater back. You’ve stopped working now, and you’ll be cold. And I’m sure you shouldn’t put that damp jacket back on again!’

  ‘It’s waterproof, so it’s only damp on the outside. You keep the sweater, I’m all right with this. I’m not as thin as you are. I wonder how long that torch battery’s going to last? We’d better get ourselves settled somewhere before it gives out. Hm—it sounds as if the rain’s lessening a bit—but it’s too late to be any good to us, though at least if it stops altogether the floods may have gone down a bit by morning.’ He glanced at me, and added, ‘Up in the loft, then. It’s the warmest—’

  ‘B-but the rats!’

  ‘I’ll keep them off you, if they start running around. They’re not likely to come near us while they can hear voices, anyway. Which are you more afraid of,’ he asked in something more like his old challenging manner, ‘them, or me?’

  ‘Them,’ I said firmly, feeling almost like smiling at him in the dim torch light. ‘And Thunder, of course!’

  ‘You needn’t be scared of him. Come and talk to him properly for a moment, and you’ll see.’

  ‘I—I don’t think I want to upset him, just now—’

  ‘Coward!’

  ‘I’m not, but—but I should think he dislikes me enough at the moment, for keeping him out of his warm stable!’

  ‘It isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known about Hobbs’ Bottom, I suppose,’ Kevin said, but he seemed to accept my unwillingness to approach his horse, and led me over towards the ladder instead. ‘Up you go. I’ll bring the torch up with us, though we’d better not run the battery out entirely in case we suddenly need it for something. No, Charlotte, there is not a large rat lying in wait for you at the top there, silly—pea-goose!—and I’ll be with you in a moment, so go on!’

  He grinned as he said it, making it impossible for me to do more than give a mock-offended snort. As I climbed the ladder, I was feeling extraordinary comforted that Kevin was here with me—a feeling I looked at with some disbelief when I discovered it—but his presence was, of course, better than being left alone with the rats. A moment later he joined me, and there began a time which was amongst the most unreal of any I had spent since I arrived in Suffolk. If anyone had told me I could spend hours sitting close against Kevin Thurlanger for warmth (his idea, but a practical one) listening with interest while he talked to me about his home, his job, his life, without our quarrelling once, I would have suffered from instant disbelief. More than once, I almost told him that I was a nurse, but my promise to Henry stopped me: I did weaken and admit that my father was a Vicar, not a vanished drunkard, my slightly spiked admission of this making Kevin chuckle, so that I could feel his shoulder shaking behind mine. At last he said we’d better settle down for the night, and moved about making a nest in the hay for me. He switched the torch on again to do it, and then scrambled towards the ladder to go down and see if Thunder was all right.

  ‘Are all your family really so obsessed with horses?’ I asked, as he began to make his way down the ladder, and his still visible head grinned at me.

  ‘Complaining because I’m paying Thunder some attention now? Have I been boring you, by the way?’

  ‘Not in the least,’ I said truthfully, and chuckled.

  ‘Besides, you promised to keep talking to keep the rats away—didn’t you?’

  ‘So I did. I wondered why you plied me with so many questions. It was to keep me going, was it? Oh, and in answer to your question—’ his deep voice floated up from somewhere below—‘Yes, I suppose they are fairly obsessed. But aren’t most people absorbed in their jobs? My father breeds horses—on a shoestring, I might add, so if anything about me’s given you a contrary impression, you may forget it! Henry gave me the rather elegant car I drive because he wanted to, but I am quite used to a life where one doesn’t get waited on! Maybe—’ his voice was suddenly sober, ‘that’s what’s made Essie tend to rebel. She grew up in a place where everyone worked for a living, and Henry barely bothered to notice her existence until she was sixteen, except to send her. fairly useless luxury presents from time to time. Still, she seems to be settling now. As for me—well, horses are my second love. Medicine happens to be my first.’

  He was silent suddenly, but I heard him moving about down below. Some moments later he came up again, quietly, and settled himself down a little way away from me. I realized abruptly that I hadn’t heard rain on the roof for quite some time: I could hear wind, but no storm. After a moment or two, wondering why I had suddenly stopped feeling sleepy when the warmth of the hay and Kevin’s closeness had previously been bringing on the beginnings of drowsiness, I listened to see if his breathing had a sleepy evenness, and then said softly, ‘Kevin?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Has the rain stopped?’

  ‘Yes. Clearing sky and stars, now.’

  ‘Ought we—’

  ‘It’s still no use trying to get back in the dark,’ he said, shortly enough to make me feel I was keeping him awake, so I went back to silence. Until, a second later, there was a rustle somewhere, and I sat bolt upright catching my breath.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Did—did you say the rats would run about once we stopped talking?’ I asked the voice from the dark.

  ‘I told you, they won’t hurt you. They’re not starving, or anything like that,’ he said, but tolerantly, and I heard him move. A moment later he was disconcertingly close to me, settling down in the hay beside me. ‘There, does that make you feel safer?’

  ‘Y-yes ... I didn’t mean,’ I said hastily, as his arm came round me, ‘that I w-wanted you to—’

  ‘Don’t stiffen like that. I’ve had my arm round you most of the evening, and this is no different,’ he said drily, adding, ‘And if it’s me or the rats, I should hope you prefer me? Go to sleep, then. You really aren’t very sensible, Charlotte—unless it’s just your natural distrust!’

  ‘Yes, I am. I’m sensible Charlotte, the plain and serious-minded sister—’

  ‘You must be asleep, or you wouldn’t be talking such nonsense. If that describes you, your sisters must be even worse pea-gooses—’

  ‘Pea-geese,’ I said drowsily, letting my head rest against his shoulder, feeling sleep coming on again. His presence was a lot more comforting than it had any right to be. ‘You don’t say gooses, even when you’re insulting someone...’

  He murmured something, but Thunder let out a whicker below, and anyway I was shifting a little to find the most comfortable position and the rustle of hay covered whatever he said. I knew, as the heaviness of sleep crept further over me, that I ought still to be worrying about Henry worrying about my absence—and Kevin’s absence—but Thurlanger House seemed less real than this barn, and the warmth of the man beside me, and the hay ... I would probably wake up in my bed at Thurlanger with Kevin still at enmity with me, and my last thought before I fell asleep was that it would be a pity. In fact, very sad. Very sad indeed...

  I woke with a jerk to wonder where I was, what was scratching my legs, and why my pillow seemed to be breathing. It was light—an oddly dim light—and the ceiling was brown instead of white. Twisting my head round because of a soft breath
against my hair, I looked up into a pair of sleepy grey eyes, open. For a long second while I looked at Kevin and he looked at me, I remembered everything, and felt an odd, confused ache inside me. It was followed by a feeling of worse confusion, and I rolled away from him—from the arm which was still round me—and put my hands to my face. My hair, I could feel, hung in tangled, unbecoming rat’s-tails, and I must look quite unbearably awful. I heard him move behind me, and scrambled, instinctively, towards the ladder.

  ‘It’s light,’ I said, my voice sounding stifled. ‘We should be going. They must have been so worried ... and—and supposing somebody comes along and—’

  ‘Concerned about your reputation?’ Kevin said quietly behind me. He sounded fully awake now. ‘It’s—half-past six. Yes, I suppose a tractor might be along soon. Probably need something to tow your car out, anyway. The best thing to do—’ he came past me, sounding practical, and swung himself on to the top of the ladder—‘is for me to go for help, I suppose. Come on down.’

  ‘What—what will people say?’ I asked, peering down at him.

  ‘I said come on down!’

  He sounded impatient, and as if my movements weren’t quick enough for him, as I began down the ladder he reached up and lifted me to the ground. For a second he was holding me, but I wriggled away from him quickly, and went to peer at the world outside. I could see Thunder out of the corner of my eye turning round to gaze at us, stamping his feet: for all his night in the barn, he looked as beautiful, and as unapproachable, as ever.

  ‘Henry will have been awfully worried. Do you think the floods will have gone down? I—I’ll just go down and see what the car looks like now. I don’t suppose it will start, will it?’ I was aware I was talking to keep talking, and when I heard Kevin move I thought he was coming towards me—but I saw him, again out of the corner of my eye, over beside Thunder, petting him and beginning to lift the saddle down from the bale over which he had hung it. ‘Did you say it was ten miles to Thurlanger from here? If you ride ahead, I can start walking—once I’ve got through the ford—’

  ‘Rather than be seen with me, you mean? I don’t think you need put too much on it. I’m sure Henry will understand,’ Kevin was already flinging the saddle across his horse. ‘Whoa, boy—yes, I know, but you’ll have to be groomed when you get home. The lady’s eager to be rid of us. I shouldn’t start walking, incidentally—wait here, you’ll be all right , now it’s light. I’ll—send someone back.’

  ‘I—I didn’t mean...’ I turned round to face him, guiltily—seeing with a sudden touch of resentment that he looked as handsome as ever despite the beginnings of a beard, and that while I felt filthy and hideous, he was capable of wearing clothes he had slept in without looking as unbecoming as I did. ‘I’m not ungrateful,’ I said crossly, ‘but it’s only sense to let everyone know we’re all right as early as possible. Isn’t it? I mean, when you consider—’

  ‘I’m getting ready as fast as I can,’ he said shortly, and he sounded so much like the impersonal Kevin I had grown used to in the past few weeks, instead of the friendly Kevin of last night, that I turned back to peer at the early morning countryside, blinking a little and trying to concentrate on the wintry landscape. It was grey and soggy, but the clouds as I looked up for them were higher than they’d been for days, and not rain laden. I heard Kevin begin to lead Thunder out, blinked again, and looked round at him.

  ‘I’m sorry that you had to spend the night here because of me. I’m sorry if—’

  ‘Think nothing of it. But don’t start walking—or no further than the lane between the fords. You’d better promise, or I’ll—be thinking of you doing some damn fool thing like trying to find your way across the fields. I’ll get someone to come back and fetch you—understand?’

  ‘Y-yes.’

  ‘Charlotte.’ He dropped Thunder’s bridle, leaving the horse to stand, and walked slowly towards me. I felt like backing—but I was against the side of the barn already, so I didn’t. When he was in front of me I gulped and looked up—and saw him studying my face. I was well aware how awful it must look, but I tried to look as if I wasn’t, and said with an attempt at steadiness,

  ‘All right, I promise not to try to find my own way. I h-haven’t really got a clue where we are, anyway—’

  ‘Do you remember I said yesterday that I wouldn’t mind your marrying Henry—but for one thing?’ he asked abruptly, his mouth a straight line. ‘I didn’t mean to say what the one thing was. But—’

  ‘I wish everyone wouldn’t keep on—’ I began crossly, but Kevin put out his hands and caught hold of me by the shoulders.

  ‘It may be unethical. And stupid. And—God knows, I don’t. But I can’t go on like this,’ he said, and suddenly I was close against him, held tight as he bent his head. He kissed me, hard. Then he let me go. Unsmilingly he said, ‘Now you know,’ and while I was still staring at him in dazed wonder, he turned on his heel and walked quickly towards Thunder. He was up in another second, riding away without looking back, the two of them departing without so much as a goodbye...

  I hadn’t moved by the time he was out of sight. My legs didn’t belong to me, and I didn’t have the breath to call out after him—even if I’d known what I wanted to say. I went on gazing at the space where he had disappeared for what must have been minutes, and when I did wake up, I found I was crying. Crying ... Stumbling back into the barn, I picked up a handful of hay and scrubbed at my face with it: nothing I did could make me look worse, and there ought to be something rational I could think about to stop me trembling all over. Except that I couldn’t. I remembered waking up with my cheek against Kevin’s shoulder, and the trembling got worse. One night marooned in a hay-loft—one perfectly innocent night—had no right to send me into such an illogical, unhinged state.

  I found I was wondering how long I’d been in love with Kevin instead of hating him—or as well as hating him—as if the thought were a perfectly sensible one. How could I have been falling in love with a man with whom I had been at odds ever since I arrived? Somehow, it seemed I could ... because suddenly I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live without him.

  Remembering the way he had kissed me was far too muddling. I retreated from it mentally—except that I didn’t want to think about anything else—and tried to be practical. Being practical required me to go down to the lane and see what state my car was in, so, still feeling weak at the knees, I went.

  The car Henry had given me was still half immersed in water. I gazed at it, and, the name hitting me with a guilty thud, thought, Henry...

  CHAPTER VIII

  Henry had been as worried about me as I had feared, and received me back with such an excess of affectionate concern that it was hard to get a word in edgeways. He had the whole household running round in circles to provide hot baths for me, food, hot drinks, and every comfort and attention. I might have been an invalid from the way I was tenderly put to bed and told to rest. There was no sign of Kevin anywhere: he had been home, and gone. My state of dazed confusion was put down to the terrible experiences I must have gone through, and when I was obediently in bed (not because I was tired, but because everyone was sure I ought to be, and besides I was still feeling extraordinarily weak at the knees) Henry came in to pat my hand, and tell me that he would never have forgiven himself if anything had happened to me. I smiled at him weakly, and tried to say I was perfectly all right, but he wouldn’t let me. He said I must definitely stay in bed for the rest of the day and keep warm and hope not to have caught a chill. When he had gone, the memory of his kind, concerned face filled me with panic-stricken guilt. If only it wasn’t so plain that he was fond of me...

  Everyone seemed to think I was going to marry Henry. The question was—did Henry? And—oh, help!—had I really given him reason to think that I might?

  Feverishly, I wished I had never come. Only if I’d never come I’d never have met Kevin ... or never met him again, after that first unpromising meeting on the train. If onl
y I could reach Kevin, and find out ... what? All he had said was, “Now you know,” and that might mean anything. I dwelt on every word Kevin and I had ever exchanged, with remarkable fervour (very remarkable, considering what some of the words had been) and found myself falling into such a doting state that I knew I was being ridiculous. The trouble was it was quite impossible to stop being ridiculous. Love must be something one caught, like ’flu—and being in love obviously had a lot in common with being delirious. I had certainly been quite right to decide I’d never loved Robert. Who on earth, I thought wildly, was Robert? I couldn’t even remember what he looked like.

  Essie, popping in, told me I’d better be all right for the dance tomorrow night, reminding me of the dance’s existence. She also told me cheerfully that Pa had been in a terrible flap about me. He’d have had everyone out scouring the countryside if there had been the remotest clue where I might be. Casting me a mischievous grin, she said Kev seemed to have survived all right.

  ‘Is—is he at home?’ I asked uncertainly.

  ‘No, gone off to the hospital. Was he beastly to you? He came in looking as black as thunder,’ Essie said cheerfully, adding, ‘Hm, apt, that. Black as Thunder. Poor old boy, it’s lucky he didn’t catch a chill, but the Ballyneelan strain’s good and strong. I hope you and Kev didn’t fight all night—or maybe that’s why you look so green. I must say, you don’t look awfully well—so I s’pose I’d better go away and let you rest, like Pa said!’

  She took herself off, and I went on lying there, restless. Perhaps I was delirious!

  Henry wouldn’t let me get up, even though I protested about preparations for the dance. He said everything was in hand, and I wasn’t to worry. He couldn’t know I was worrying on quite different grounds. I tried to string my thoughts together logically, but everything was far too jumbled, mixed up with gypsies and men whose name began with the letter H. Gypsies aside—with feverish resolution I tried to push them aside—it was still true that if Henry had started to make the same assumptions that everyone else seemed to be making, I could hardly hurt his feelings by showing I had fallen in love with his nephew. As my pampered day wore on into evening, I listened for Kevin to come in—and didn’t hear him. I began to feel as if I would never see him again. I began to feel, miserably, that it would be better if I never did see him again.