The Sea Between

by Thomas, Carol

  There was nothing more delightfully agile than a young lamb bounding across a grassy paddock on a warm spring day, but these lambs, cold and miserable, floundering through snow, were painfully slow and clumsy. They slipped, stumbled, pitched forward on to their knees, then bleated incessantly until their mother came and gave them a hard nudge with her nose to get them moving again. It was impossible to hurry them. All Charlotte could do was ride patiently behind them, urging them forward slowly but surely, while the two dogs raced back and forth, keeping the mob on the right course. By the time she finally got them to the lower slopes, the weather had deteriorated noticeably. When she’d set off, snow had been tumbling from the sky in big, soft flakes; now it was falling in dense white clouds, pouring down like finely sieved flour, making anything beyond twenty yards virtually invisible. Returning to bring a second mob to safety was out of the question. Leaving the ewes and lambs to seek shelter beneath the line of trees, she headed down the hill to the house.

  During the course of the morning, someone—Arthur and Matthew probably—had cleared a path across the yard from the back door to the wood shed and tossed the spaded snow in front of the barn door. Since the barn door opened outwards, it wasn’t a very helpful thing to do. Dismounting, Charlotte tramped over to the door and gave it a heave; as she expected, she couldn’t budge it. With a sigh she plodded over to get the shovel, which had been left leaning against the wall of the house, and set about clearing the snow. She had just finished, and was reaching for her mare’s reins, when she heard the muffled whinny of a horse. She turned and peered through the falling snow, which was still pouring from the heavens by the sackful, but, when there was no sign of a rider emerging from the whiteness, she led her mare into the dry interior of the stable and took off its saddle.

  As she was lugging the saddle across the stable to lay it on the wooden bench where the saddles and trappings were kept when not in use, she heard the muted clop of hooves in the yard. Her father, no doubt. He would be anxious about the sheep. It wasn’t her father, though. It was Richard, muffled up against the weather in a widebrimmed hat and a heavy woollen knee-length coat, a thick scarf wound several times around his neck.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said, as he led his horse into the barn. Depositing the saddle on the bench, she picked up an old towel then walked back to her mare and began wiping the snow off its flanks.

  Dropping the reins of his horse, Richard pulled off his hat and slapped it hard against his leg to dislodge the snow that had accumulated on the brim, then walked over to her. ‘I’m getting heartily sick of this!’ he said sharply.

  She bent over to wipe the mare’s belly, knowing that he would find it extremely irritating to have to talk to her backside.

  Taking hold of her arm, he hauled her upright and spun her around to face him. ‘You did that deliberately, didn’t you? Turned your back on me, bent down, didn’t answer me—because you knew damned well it would rile me! Well, I’ll tell you, Charlotte, I’m sick and tired of being riled by you! You’re bloody clever at it, too—you know exactly how to raise my hackles.’

  She jerked her arm free, bent over again and continued to wipe down the horse.

  Grasping her arm, he hauled her upright again. ‘No, we’re going to talk about this! Whether you like it or not, we’re related by marriage now and I’m damned if I’m going to put up with this sort of behaviour every time we’re in each other’s company.’

  She gave her arm another jerk, but he was holding it more tightly this time and it didn’t come free. ‘Let go of me!’ she ordered.

  ‘Not until you’ve told me why you’re doing it.’

  She looked away disdainfully. ‘If you sow bitter seeds, Richard, you can expect to reap sour fruit.’

  ‘You have the gall to accuse me of sowing bitter seeds!’ He shook his head and gave a dry laugh. ‘You’re a fine one to talk about bitter seeds! How do you think I felt after you refused me?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said loudly. ‘But I do know that it didn’t take you long to get over it! Just a few months, that’s all! Four months after you told me that you loved me, you married someone else!’

  ‘And why shouldn’t I have? You wouldn’t marry me!’

  ‘No, because you refused to look for a way of spending time with me. A week or two of my company a year was quite sufficient for you.’ She paused, then decided to come out with the truth. ‘You want to know why I’ve been provoking you? All right, I’ll tell you. Because I’m angry, that’s why. Angry and hurt! I loved you! You were the first man I’d ever loved and I loved you a great deal, and I was foolish enough to believe that you loved me. But you didn’t. Oh, you said you did, but the truth is you didn’t. Any man who can switch his affections as quickly and easily as you did didn’t have much to switch. I wonder in fact if you’re capable of loving someone deeply.’

  ‘Well, since we’re discussing love,’ he returned loudly, ‘I find it very difficult to believe that you loved me as deeply as you claim! You were prepared to marry me provided I’d bow to your wishes, but if I wouldn’t then that was the finish of it between us so far as you were concerned. You seem to think you were the only one feeling hurt. D’you think I didn’t feel hurt? I’d never felt for any woman what I felt for you! As for your feelings for me, I don’t believe they were as deep as you’re making out—if they had been, you’d have married me. But you didn’t. You told me in no uncertain terms that it was marriage on your terms or else you’d look for someone else. What did you expect me to do, Charlotte? You’d shut the door firmly in my face. You gave me no option but to look elsewhere if I wanted to marry. So that’s what I did—I looked elsewhere!’

  ‘Yes, you did, and it didn’t take you very long to find someone else!’ she snapped. Prising his fingers off her arm, she walked away. He strode after her and stepped in front of her, barring her way.

  ‘Oh no, you’re not leaving until we’ve had this out!’ he said angrily. ‘It isn’t only me you’re annoying with your sniping, waspish comments. You’re making Edwin and Sarah and George very uncomfortable.’

  She looked away, knowing full well that it was true. She’d been careful not to needle Richard while her father and Letitia were present—she didn’t want to do anything to spoil their wedding celebrations—but she’d done a fair bit of goading when they weren’t present.

  ‘And what about me? D’you think I don’t feel uncomfortable with your wife living right on my doorstep?’ she retorted. ‘And regularly stepping over the doorstep, I might add. But I suppose that was your intention, to pay me back for bruising your pride when I refused—’

  ‘I didn’t know you were living in Lyttelton!’

  She could see from his face that he was telling the truth. ‘Well, perhaps you didn’t know,’ she conceded grudgingly. ‘But it doesn’t make it any easier. Eliza visits Ann just about every day of the week. She even goes to church with us!’

  ‘Why do you find that so difficult, Charlotte?’ He tilted his head, looking straight into her eyes. ‘Are you jealous of her? Is that it? Do you wish now that you had married me?’

  She gave a scathing laugh. ‘No, I do not wish I’d married you! Eliza is welcome to you, what little she sees of you.’

  ‘In that case, I don’t see why it should concern you that she lives in the same town.’

  ‘Would you like it, if the boot was on the other foot?’

  ‘Would you like it if I’d been behaving as you have these last three days?’ he retorted.

  She didn’t answer. Silence fell. Neither of them moved, neither of them looked away; they just stood glaring at each other while the powdery snow blowing in through the open door swirled around their faces. At length Richard gave a loud sigh, turned away from her, and slapped his hat against the barn wall in frustration.

  She watched him for a moment, then tossed aside the old towel that she’d wiped down her mare with and strode off across the yard, goose-stepping through the deep snow. As she pushed open the
kitchen door, a warm blast of air came out to meet her, smelling of vegetable soup. Sarah was bent over the fire, digging the poker around in the hearth to rearrange the logs. ‘Oh, Charlotte, I’m glad you’re back,’ she said with relief. ‘I was starting to worry. The weather has got so bad, I was afraid you might have lost your way. Is that Edwin in the stable?’

  ‘No, he’s still mustering sheep with Tom,’ she said, stamping her boots on the doorstep. She gave her coat a vigorous shake to rid it of the clinging snow, then stepped into the welcome warmth of the kitchen.

  Sarah scratched the side of her nose, frowning. ‘I could have sworn I heard two horses come into the yard.’

  ‘You did,’ Charlotte said, unwrapping the shawl from her head. ‘Richard is here.’

  On cue, he appeared in the doorway. Ignoring him, she pulled off her gloves and dropped them on the table along with her woollen shawl, then began to unbutton her coat.

  ‘Are you on your own, Richard?’ Sarah asked in surprise. ‘Is John still busy with the cattle?’

  He turned to close the door, looked briefly at Charlotte, then said, ‘John’s in bed. He started to feel ill while we were out bringing the cattle down to the lower ground closer to the house. He managed to finish the muster, but he’s been vomiting ever since.’

  ‘Oh dear, not John, too,’ Sarah said, as she bent over to lay the poker on the hearth. ‘George is in bed, too. He was sick during the night. And Jessie Hall isn’t feeling well either.’

  Richard frowned thoughtfully as he loosened the woollen scarf wrapped around his neck. ‘I wonder if it was something they ate. It seems likely, with all three of them falling ill.’

  Sarah nodded. ‘It does, and I think I know what the culprit was—that box of candied fruits that Jessie found on the top shelf of the pantry when she was looking for the brazil nuts. I was all for throwing them out, but Jessie tasted one or two and said they were fine. George ate some last night while we were sitting around the fire talking, and so did John. John passed the box around, if you remember, but I think everyone was too full to eat them except him and George.’

  ‘Just as well we were too full,’ Charlotte said. ‘Otherwise we’d all be in bed.’

  ‘Oh, poor John, what a bad start to his marriage,’ Sarah murmured.

  ‘I don’t think he’s so much concerned about his marriage as his sheep,’ Richard returned with typical male pragmatism. ‘He was intending to help Edwin once we’d brought the cattle down. I told him I’d ride over to lend a hand, but I thought I’d better call in at the house first to find out where to go.’

  Sarah glanced across at Charlotte. ‘Whereabouts is Edwin, Charlotte? Can you explain to Richard the best way to find him?’

  Charlotte turned to look at Richard and shook her head. ‘You’d be better to wait here until Edwin gets back. It’s not safe for you to go out on your own in this weather. You don’t know the hills well enough. You’ll get lost.’

  ‘Charlotte’s right: you’d better wait until Edwin comes back, Richard,’ Sarah agreed as she looked across to the window. The snow was falling so thickly that the barn on the other side of the yard was barely visible. ‘Sit down and have a bowl of soup. Charlotte, you’ll be wanting something to eat—you’ve not eaten anything since breakfast.’ She reached up to lift two bowls from the warming rack above the fire.

  ‘None for me, thank you, Sarah,’ Richard said. ‘I’ll be leaving shortly.’

  Charlotte glanced across at him, well aware that his main reason for not wanting to stay was her. She shrugged off her coat, draped it over the drying rack, then pulled two chairs out from the table. ‘Sit down, Richard,’ she said. ‘Have a bowl of soup with me. By the time you’ve finished it, Edwin will probably be back.’ She didn’t particularly want to sit and talk to him while they supped soup together, but on the other hand she didn’t want him to get lost on the hills and freeze to death.

  ‘Hang your coat up on the hook behind the door, Richard, so it can drip on the door mat,’ Sarah instructed and began to ladle soup into the two bowls. Like it or not, he was staying.

  An hour later there was still no sign of Edwin or Tom, or the mob of sheep. Richard had twice been on foot to the lower slopes to listen for the telltale bleating of an approaching mob, but the only bleating he’d heard was from the mob that Charlotte had brought down earlier, sheltering beneath the trees. Not surprisingly, with the snow falling so thickly, Sarah was starting to worry. She didn’t say much, occupying herself with peeling vegetables for dinner and keeping an eye on her children, but it was obvious from the way she kept looking at the clock and going to the window that she was anxious. The snow was quite deep now. At breakfast, it had just touched the bottom metal band of the wooden barrel that stood at the corner of the house to catch the rainwater; now, the second band was buried.

  As Sarah disappeared outside, muffled up in her winter coat, to heed the call of nature, Richard rose to his feet and went to get his coat.

  ‘Are you going to look for them?’ Charlotte asked, her tone making it clear that he was an idiot if that was what he was contemplating. While Sarah had been in the room, she had made an effort not to stir up any undercurrents, but Sarah wasn’t there now.

  Keeping his back to her, Richard threaded his left arm through the sleeve of his coat and pointed to the window. ‘The snow’s eased.’

  She turned to look, pushed back her chair, walked over to the door and pulled it open. Holding on to the door post, she leaned out and looked up at the sky. The snow hadn’t stopped altogether, but it was falling much more lightly, just a few fluttering flakes.

  She shut the door and walked across to the drying rack for her coat. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said.

  ‘Oh no, you won’t.’ He walked over to her, pulled her coat from her hands, and tossed it back on the rack.

  She arched her brows defiantly, picked her coat up again, and put it on. ‘We’ll ride separately, if you like.’

  Quarter of an hour later, the two of them were riding up the hill, Richard in the lead, a good ten yards ahead of her. She’d left Brandy and Rum back at the farm. It was too late in the day to do another muster, and for what she had in mind the dogs would be more of a hindrance than a help. Richard hadn’t uttered a word since he’d left the house, save to say goodbye to Sarah. He was a mite cross. It had been her intention to make him cross every day for the duration of his stay—it wasn’t difficult to do—but something Richard had said while they were in the barn had made her reconsider. The fact was that he’d been quite right when he pointed out that she wasn’t only riling him, she was upsetting other people, too.

  ‘You’ve made your point, you’ve told him what you think of his actions, now bury the hatchet,’ she said under her breath as she manoeuvred her mare to the left, avoiding the spot where Richard’s horse had missed its footing. She doubted that the tension between them would ever disappear completely, but stopping provoking him would go a long way to improve it.

  At the summit of the hill, Richard stopped and waited for her. As she drew level with him, he turned to her and asked shortly, ‘Where now?’ Ahead of them the land rose and fell in a series of hills through which ran a complicated network of valleys.

  ‘Edwin brought a mob out this morning through the big valley over there.’ She lifted her hand to point to it. ‘He’ll bring the second mob out that way as well, I should think. It’ll be easier this time because the first mob will have trampled down the snow and made a road through. Rather than ride out to help him, we’d be better employed going into some of the smaller valleys that lie to the south and rescuing as many of the trapped lambs as we can. I can guarantee that a lot will be trapped, and unless we get them to shelter they won’t survive the night.’

  ‘Is that what you intend to do?’ he asked, looking less than enthusiastic about the prospect of working alongside her for the next few hours.

  She nodded.

  ‘All right, I’ll come with you. But don’t aggravate me, C
harlotte,’ he warned tersely. Turning his horse to the left, he set off down the hill.

  Digging her knees into the flanks of her mare, she began carefully making her way down the hill, following in Richard’s tracks. She took her time, letting the horse pick its way down, weaving around any buried obstacles that its hooves encountered. The thick snow made the hillside look deceptively smooth, but in reality it fell away in a series of ridges and was scattered with clumps of tussock grass and boulders. Experience had taught her that in conditions like these it was best to put your faith in your horse, keep a tight grip on a short rein, tuck your knees firmly in, and be ready to lean in whatever direction was needed in order to stay in the saddle. Two-thirds of the way down, where the ground fell away more steeply, she dismounted and led her horse down the last part. Richard had done the same and was waiting for her at the bottom. She could tell from his face that he was still simmering. They rode the quarter of a mile to the head of the valley without uttering a word to each other. Every now and again they stopped to rescue a lamb that had given up, carrying it to shelter, where it was usually quickly joined by its mother once they’d gone. It was heartening to see that quite a numbers of ewes had led their lambs into shelter of their own volition and were congregating together for warmth. Once in the valley, though, the situation was as Charlotte had expected. There were at least two hundred ewes and lambs dotted along the length of it. Most were slowly struggling on, but the snow had drifted quite deeply in parts and the weaker lambs, succumbing to exhaustion, had simply given up. They were a pitiful sight, buried body-deep in snow, bleating pathetically. Most of the ewes had stayed close by their trapped lambs, but a few were wandering off without them, leaving them to die.

  ‘God, look at them all!’ Richard shook his head, looking genuinely shocked.

  Charlotte cast her eye up and down the valley. She wasn’t shocked: it was what she’d expected to see. She was worried, though. Without help, many of the lambs wouldn’t survive, and how many more were in a similar plight in the other valleys?