Windy Night, Rainy Morrow

by Ivy Ferrari

  ‘I hope Francey Finch gets you.’ Tina muttered. ‘She’s just about what you deserve.’

  He laughed. But when he spoke again his voice was level and sober.

  ‘You know very little about me, do you? Like your imitation model of the Wall, I’m a kind of cardboard man—a hateful figure who has condemned your brother without mercy, who refuses to allow you to work out your extraordinary whims. And now something worse—a man who has kissed you without asking. You know something, Tina? When I was a little lad I had a toy theatre. The goodies were all coloured blue and the villains red. You’ve been pretty busy sorting out heroes and villains ... Have a care, my dear. You’ll discover as you grow older that we have the makings of either in each of us. We’ve all got mixed motives, guilty consciences. We can all be kind and generous one day, or as mean as a bat out of hell the next. I wish you joy of your digging for truth. And I offer you the same old well-worn advice—stick to Roman remains. They’re safer.’

  The car screeched on the wet gravel at Hadrian’s Edge. Tina, feeling the full effect now of sitting in her soaking clothes, sneezed three times in quick succession. The handkerchief she fished from her bag was so minute she found a large clean white one thrust into her hand. He was giving her a searching scrutiny, but this time his eyes seemed guarded, empty of both amusement and anger.

  ‘Better run straight up to your room. I’ve had Isa leave a flask of warm milk there for you and the electric fire’s been burning this last hour. I’d advise a hot bath first, though.’

  She got out. Thank you,’ she faltered, a little stunned. Angry as he must have been when he came out to search for her, he had meticulously seen to her comfort first. The action was touching, generous and unexpected.

  He made no response to her thanks. The Land-Rover shot away round the side of the house to the garage, his profile as composed as if nothing had happened.

  Shivering and drenched .as she was, Tina stood motionless, watching him go. The memory of that kiss seemed blasted into her mind and body alike. It had been an outrageous liberty, a violent punishment for her disobedience...

  Yet it had been more than this. She had sensed, too, an exasperated desire, a goaded passion. She knew now that Adam Copeland found her physically attractive, that he furiously resented the fact and that there had not been one atom of tenderness in that embrace.

  Her shocked face crumpled as she turned towards the house.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The next week passed quietly. Tina was subdued during her working periods with Adam Copeland. He in turn was abrupt but watchful. There was, she sometimes imagined, a certain curl of satisfaction to his mobile mouth, a glint of victory in his eyes. Obviously he imagined he had quelled for good any tendency to rebellion.

  He was, of course, mistaken. Tina might looked subdued, she might even feel subdued, but she was still set in a calm determination to go her own way. And if his guard had been lifted, so much the better. He would be less likely to expect further action.

  Tina had felt sore with Chris, regarding his tale-telling lo Adam, and one day on the dig had challenged him about it.

  His response was impatient. ‘What did you expect me to do, young Tina? Cover up for you? And with the weather as it was that day, I expected you’d be glad to be rescued.’

  ‘But you didn’t approve of me seeing Helen in the first place, did you?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. I think you should consider Copeland’s feelings and keep away from her. There, you asked for it. And I did promise your father I’d keep an eye on you. So let’s hear no more about it, shall we?’ he spoke with cool authority.

  ‘I thought you were on my side, Chris.’

  ‘No one’s taking sides. Do have some sense, Tina. I’ve told you before there’s very little we can do as far as this business of Bruno goes. You won’t help matters by setting everyone by the ears, either. Now, if we’ve settled that, I’ve something else to tell you.’

  ‘About—Bruno?’ She was instantly hopeful.

  ‘Yes, but quite apart from what we’ve been discussing. I don’t know if he ever told you in his letters, but he always had a hunch about that south section of the grid.’

  ‘A hunch?’

  ‘That’s what I said. I can’t tell you any more at the moment, because I’m still going over his notes and making preliminary investigations. But I’ll tell you this, if he was right—his name’s going to mean something big in archaeological circles.’

  ‘Chris, what is it? Why can’t you tell me?’

  He smiled. ‘I wouldn’t have told you this much, except for one reason. You may dig about as much as you like, trying to clear his name. To my mind this is much more important, to press on along the lines of his last discoveries. If his notes prove to be right, this could be the crown of his life’s work ... So, Tina, never accuse me of not caring, or of forgetting, will you?’ He spoke softly.

  Tina tried to speak and failed. Her eyes were misty. At last she said: ‘I’m sorry, Chris. I’ve misjudged you. And I think you’re right. This is a bigger thing you’re doing. Only you do understand I’ve got to work for him in my way too.’

  ‘I understand.’ He turned back to his littered table under the tarpaulin shelter. ‘But, Tina, don’t do anything really crazy, will you? Try to remember I’m responsible for you.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  She felt vastly cheered by this interview, forgiving him gladly for his ‘tale-telling’, as she had thought it. Quite apart from his assurance that he had Bruno’s interests at heart, she realised now that he was after all answerable to Adam Copeland for dig discipline, and as such could scarcely refuse Adam information concerning herself. As for the hint that Bruno might have been on the verge of a startling discovery, she was warmed and inspired by the news. True, it might come to nothing, but she doubted whether Chris would have spoken if his hopes hadn’t been high. Her only saddening thought was that Bruno had not lived to reap any possible success...

  Meanwhile, Tina had not forgotten her vow to mend her ways, to be more punctual, assiduous and considerate in her work for Adam Copeland. Strangely enough, once she concentrated more, she became interested in the work for its own sake, quickly grasping the names of the farms and their tenants, becoming knowledgeable in matters of Ministry of Agriculture returns and anxious to be helpful with telephone callers.

  She sensed Adam’s surprise, but at first he made no comment, noting her efforts with what could only be called a poker face. She noticed, though, that he began to trust her judgment more, to explain less, and for the-moment it was enough to redeem her former carelessness.

  Her old resentment at the curtailment of her dig work had quite gone, despite the fact that out of doors spring was making brilliant thrusts into the dull days. The daffodils in the cottage gardens had given way to wallflowers, the hedges and woods were veiled in green and a subtle new bloom had come to the moor. Around Hadrian’s Edge bird-song tangled in the budding boughs from dawn to dark.

  One morning, when the office work was over, Tina discovered that Carrie had not gone to the dig, but was bustling about upstairs, helping the daily domestic worker to turn out the bedrooms.

  ‘Spring-cleaning?’ Tina grimaced. She knew it was an English malady peculiar to the lightening days.

  ‘Afraid so,’ Carrie said. There’s no future in it, but it’s got to be done. If you’re just stooging around you might help me move some blankets from Helen’s room.’

  ‘That’s the door at the end, isn’t it? I’ve never seen it yet.’

  ‘It’s much the same as yours, only in the opposite gable.’ Carrie threw open the door. ‘As Helen’s likely to be away for another month or so I think I’ll strip the bed altogether and send the blankets to the cleaners.’

  Tina followed her into a delicate airy room decorated in white and lilac. ‘Isn’t it pretty? I love the rosewood furniture.’

  Carrie was already turning back the lilac silk coverlet. ‘Oh yes, Helen has expensive tastes,
and Adam has always indulged them.’

  Tina stood by the window, fiddling with a curtain-tie. ‘I suppose that’s what really attracted Bruno—he was always attracted to very feminine girls.’

  Carrie was now half out of the door with the blankets. Tina, deciding she ought to be useful, began turning back the coverlet over the striped mattress. She lifted the pillows, meaning to fold the cover under and back over them in a tidy roll. As she did so something white fluttered to the carpet.

  She found it to be a folded piece of paper. After a second’s hesitation, curiosity won and she opened it, seeing very feminine flowery writing.

  ‘Darling,’ she read, ‘I know it’s no use and I do understand how you feel. I hope one day you’ll forgive and—’

  The note finished there, as if the writer, whom Tina was certain must be Helen, had been interrupted. Or perhaps she had had second thoughts about sending the note at all and just thrust it under her pillow until she could destroy it. Possibly her breakdown had intervened. Tina’s breath came fast. To whom was the note written? Bruno? Or some other man? She felt guilty now at having read it—but there was exultancy too.

  She slipped the note under the pillow and pulled the coverlet into place. On the dressing-table she had noticed an engagements book, and flicked it open; Yes, one glance was enough to see that this was indeed Helen’s handwriting.

  At that moment Carrie came back.

  ‘Made up the bed—oh, thanks.’ She grinned. ‘I’ve just been down to the kitchen. Isa had a letter from her cousin this morning, inviting her there for her holidays. Isa’s all cock-a-hoop, so I think we’re in for a rather nice Eve’s pudding for lunch.’ She looked critically round the room. ‘It looks neat enough now. You should see it when Helen’s in possession. She throws her things all over the place.’

  ‘Who picks them up?’

  ‘Oh, she’s not above wheedling Isa to do it. Isa’s so good-natured she can’t see there’s no future in it.’

  Tina followed Carrie down the wide, crimson-carpeted corridor. ‘Do you really like Helen, Carrie?’

  ‘I’ve no illusions about her. Let’s just leave it there, shall we?’ They turned to descend the stairs.

  ‘But do you think she was good enough for Bruno?’ Tina insisted, unaware that there was anyone in the hall below. Too late Carrie nudged her. Below stood Adam, dressed for the fields in tweeds and rubber boots, Gyp waiting at his feet. He gave Tina one annihilating look.

  ‘You might also ask.’ he said harshly, ‘was Bruno good enough for her. I warn you again, Tina, I detest this prying into my family affairs.’

  Tina’s blood tingled; Carrie disappeared tactfully into the living-room.

  ‘Yours and mine, Mr. Copeland.’ she said quietly. ‘You always seem to forget that ... Were the letters to your liking?’

  ‘Excellent, as always. For such an intelligent young woman some of your antics are surprisingly out of context. I can’t fault your work—now. All that’s lacking is the need to begin facing up to the truth about your brother. Emotionally, you’re very far from being stable.’

  Tina’s face flamed. Too shocked to answer, she brushed past him and went blindly out of doors. The wall between them loomed higher and darker than before. Despite all her efforts to avoid criticism, then, his opinion of her remained the same. Despite that mockery of a kiss, they were more at variance than ever.

  Her first reaction was one of sour anger; then let him do his own work! If he insisted, in his attitude towards Bruno why should she lift even a finger to help him?

  Yet she soon saw the folly of this. To show herself as childish and spiteful could only justify his accusation of emotional immaturity. No, she must go on as before, but must step up her efforts to discover the truth about Bruno, to prove Adam Copeland monumentally wrong...

  That afternoon Tina worked industriously at the dig, but her attention wandered sorely. Perhaps because of her depressing morning she decided to visit Quarry Farm that evening. During the week she had bought some games for the twins in Hexham. They might be glad of some distraction for the week-end.

  After supper she took the path by the tree house. Just where the moor track forked she came upon Francey, loitering as if waiting for someone.

  ‘Hallo,’ said Tina cautiously. One never knew quite how Francey would react. One thing though was evident—the other girl was dressed to kill in a vivid pink trouser suit, the effect spoiled by the scowl on her face.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Francey eyed Tina’s expensive white wool dress, the lush Italian coat slung over her shoulders.

  ‘I’m just taking some games down to the twins. I suppose they like games?’

  ‘Oh, they do. And you like to hand out charity to that scruffy crowd at Quarry Farm! I bet you took good care Adam knew what you were doing.’

  ‘Why should I?’ Tina stared.

  ‘You know very well why—to impress him. You needn’t pretend to me you’re not after him for yourself!’

  Tina felt as though a hand had gripped her heart.

  Francey spoke breathlessly. ‘I heard about you going off in that storm, so he had to find you and bring you back. You were careful to leave word of where you were going, though!’

  Tina’s anger mounted. ‘You’ve got a wonderful imagination, Francey. I suppose you wouldn’t be waiting for him yourself?’

  She found herself waiting in peculiar anxiety for Francey’s answer.

  ‘Yes, I’ve got a date with him, if you want to know!’ Francey’s green eyes flashed.

  ‘What—at the roadside?’ Tina guessed she was lying. It was just possible, though, that the other girl hoped to waylay Adam. ‘I hope he doesn’t keep you waiting too long,’ she said.

  ‘Well, you needn’t hang about, anyway.’ Francey’s rudeness smacked of the village school playground. Tina wouldn’t have been surprised if she had pulled a face or thrust out her tongue. For this snapping little animal was the real Francey, not the carefully controlled creature who had dined at Hadrian’s Edge.

  ‘I’m just going.’ She turned away down the moor path, wondering a little now if there might not be another explanation for Francey’s loitering. Her boast of a date with Adam might have been cover for a meeting with Chris. Tina wasn’t too sure Chris hadn’t been attracted, and Francey must know he was married, which would call for a meeting in secret if she wanted to keep the affair quiet.

  Not that Chris was likely to be serious, though. It was so obvious to Tina, who knew him so well, that he was still suffering from his broken marriage. The company of Francey might just be an antidote to loneliness...

  Or was all this wishful thinking, because she herself couldn’t be reconciled to the picture of Adam and Francey alone in the spring beauty of the woods?

  This new thought held so many frightening implications she dismissed it immediately, and ran the rest of the way to the farm.

  Tina found the twins eating their supper, or rather, as she saw from the state of the table, having cornflake battle. Matt, who had been reading a pigeon-fancier’s journal, jumped up at her entrance. The twins, at a sharp scolding from him, lapsed into giggles.

  ‘Hallo, Tina.’ He smiled but looked in dismay at the disordered table. ‘Sorry about all this. They’ve got a bit out of hand tonight while I was seeing to the pigeons.’ He jerked Bobby to his feet. ‘Come on now, you’ve had enough. Go and shut your rabbits up.’

  ‘I’ve had enough too.’ Like lightning Rosie left the table. Matt ordered her back. ‘You haven’t touched your sandwiches.’

  She curled her nose. ‘Don’t want them. I’m not hungry.’ She sidled up to Tina. ‘Isn’t that a bonny dress? What’s in yon parcel?’

  Tina smiled at her. She was such an engaging child, yet there was still that heart-catching look of delicacy about her. She had none of Bobby’s robust colour.

  ‘It’s something for you.’ she said. ‘But only if you eat your supper for Matt.’

  Rosie ran to the table
and crammed a sandwich into her mouth. Matt snapped at her: ‘Rosie, where are your manners?’

  She finished the sandwich at a more decorous speed. ‘I’m not hungry, Matt.’ she whined. ‘Cheese makes me feel sick.’

  ‘Drink your milk, then.’ He turned to Tina, shrugging. ‘Francey’s out—she can manage Rosie better than I can.’

  Tina privately considered it wasn’t good policy to admit such a thing in Rosie’s hearing, but said nothing and opened her parcel. Rosie’s cries of joy over the games brought Bobby in at a run. The twins, docile again, settled down at the table to play.

  ‘Come up to the fire.’ Matt invited her. ‘It’s warmer out than in today. And this old place is always a bit damp.’

  Tina took the offered chair. ‘How are the pigeons?’

  ‘Oh, fine. I’m racing Peerless Blue and Star Rocket tomorrow.’ He spoke of the race, the competition he would encounter, the rules followed. Meanwhile the twins’ voices became raised in argument over the throw of the dice.

  ‘That’s enough.’ said Matt. ‘Bobby, you give in now.’

  ‘I’ve always got to give in—just because she’s a lassie.’ Bobby scowled.

  Matt said quietly, under cover of the barrage of childish voices: ‘I suppose I do favour her. She always seems to me to have come worst off out of all our troubles. Girls need a mother. And Francey hasn’t got the mothering touch—though she’s fond enough of her.’ His glance went soberly over his little sister’s face. ‘I worry about Rosie.’

  Tina’s gaze followed his. Rosie was triumphantly leap-frogging her ludo piece over Bobby’s. ‘She’s got plenty of life in her, though.’

  ‘Aye, but I’d be happier if she ate more. She just plays about with her food.’

  ‘Why don’t you see a doctor?’

  He shrugged. ‘If she seemed ill, I would. But you’ve just said yourself, she’s got plenty of energy. It’s just that she gets moods when she won’t eat—says she feel sick. But she’s tried that once too often to miss school—I never know when to believe her.’