A Place With Two Faces
Page 16
Cornered, forced into coffee and confidences, Bromwyn at length admitted that she had a long-standing invitation to become high priestess of a coven in the New Forest. She knew the leader.
“A very interesting man, a writer on country subjects,” she said, her face and body convulsing, “with an invalid wife.”
On Monday, Margaret and Jenny packed. Jenny’s packing took no time; what wouldn’t fit in her suitcase could be bundled into the Mini, but Margaret’s occupied hours and the possible uses of every garment had to be fully discussed before it went in.
In the evening, Robert fought his way up through the holidaymakers for a farewell drink. Jenny left him alone with Margaret for most of the time. They were, after all, old friends and she had shared only a tiny part of their lives.
She paid a farewell visit to the stream and to Simon’s wood and then she decided to wash the Mini so that she would be on the doorstep when the time came for Robert to leave. It was all very well for Margaret to say that she spent her time running from awkward situations, but it wasn’t easy for her to leave, the tearing up of freshly put down roots was a terrible wrench. Though she’d been frightened out of her wits and longed to run, now that the moment had come she felt deeply depressed at the prospect. It was worse, she thought, than leaving Mandy and the physios and the flat.
When Robert came out, she knew by his haggard face and brisk manner, that he hated parting as much as she did. He kissed her quickly.
“Nice knowing you, Jenny,” he said. “I’m afraid it’s been a ghastly time for you; we haven’t looked after you as we should, but it won’t seem so bad in retrospect. In fact it will probably become the highlight of your life and I can just see you telling the story of Kilruthan to your grandchildren. Not that they’ll believe you. ‘Have you heard Granny’s story about witches? The poor old dear’s a pathological liar,’ they’ll tell each other airily. Goodbye, Luv. Look after yourself.”
Margaret carefully coordinated their departures on Tuesday. Jenny was to leave in the Mini exactly half an hour before Margaret’s taxi was due.
“Half an hour on my own will be just right,” she explained. “Longer would lead to melancholy.” And she pressed a large check into Jenny’s hand saying that it was for services rendered, hardships and dangers endured and in lieu of proper notice.
“But I don’t want to think of you rushing into any old job,” she explained, when Jenny cried out in horror at the amount. “You’ve got to have time to look around and you’ll need a holiday after all this.” And she put an end to the argument by presenting an autographed copy of her last book.
The moor was tantalizingly lovely under a clear blue sky. A cuckoo called to its mate from Bernard’s rock. Ponies growing sleek and fat strolled on the slopes, foals frisked among the boulders. But Jenny was not deceived by the transformation; she knew it for a place with two faces.
She left the moor road and drove between banks starry with stitchwort to the A30. It seemed unbelievable that she was really on her way to London.
As she waited for a gap in the traffic, she noticed a figure on the roadside using the most exaggerated gestures to thumb a lift. Blue jeans, a bright blue shirt and reddish hair and beside him on the grass the familiar knapsack and duffel bag and tough reefer jacket.
“Simon!” she called out in amazement as she opened the passenger door. “But how did you get here? How did you know I was coming?”
“No trouble at all,” he answered throwing his belongings on the back seat. “I got a lift to Bodmin this morning and then telephoned Margaret to ask what your plans were. She gave a great wail of horror and said that I’d missed you, you’d just that moment started for London, so I took your parents’ address, ran out into the road and hitched a lift to this turning.”
“But what about the inquest?” asked Jenny.
“It won’t be for at least a week, so I thought I might as well take a trip to London and start looking for a job and somewhere to live…”
A car marooned behind them hooted impatiently and, as Jenny shot forward into the free space in the traffic, Simon added, “I also thought I could do some of the driving, so let me know when you’d like me to take over.”
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