Windy Night, Rainy Morrow

by Ivy Ferrari

  About mid-morning the bell went at the side door. She slid aside the curtain and opened it, startled to find Sandy there. He looked sweating and cornered. ‘Are you on your own, Tina? Can I have a word? I don’t want Carrie to get wind I’m here.’

  ‘Come in. What is it, Sandy? Here, sit down. Carrie never comes in here during the mornings, so you’ll be all right.’

  He looked relieved, but sat twisting his cap between his hands. ‘It’s a right kettle of fish, hinney. I had to take a day off from the quarry.’

  Tina waited patiently. At last he lifted his head, fixed her with his vivid blue gaze. ‘I’ve found him, Tina. I’ve found Carrie’s Lofty. Or rather he found me.’

  Tina felt the blood drain from her face. ‘Lofty!’ She groped for a chair. ‘Sandy, you can’t mean it?’

  He nodded. ‘This Aussie bloke, Tina. And he just walked into my cottage, like any other Wall visitor.’

  ‘You mean—you didn’t know—’

  ‘How could I be sure, until I’d asked you his real name? All I knew was I had a Mr. Ames coming. Then, when he got talking, he gave the show away on all sides. Talking about the old days in the Air Force and courting along the Wall, and a lass he knew in these parts called Carrie ...You could have knocked me down with a feather, I can tell you. That’s why I asked you about him—though by that time it was a foregone conclusion.’

  Tina was still struggling against shock. ‘But where has he been all these years? And he was English, anyway, not Australian—unless—’

  ‘Aye, he was. I got all that out of him. He was taken prisoner, worked on the Railway of Death, as they called it, slaving for the Japs. But he survived, got in with a mob of Australians when the war ended, and decided to start a new life over there.’

  ‘And forget all about England?’

  ‘Not deliberately, I’d say. He’d been half dead, beaten up, tortured. Nothing had much meaning any more, even the past. There’d been enough misery to almost blot it out. He said so ... Anyhow, he went down under, worked for a sheep-farmer and in the end got a place of his own, I forget how many square miles he said. And he’s well lined, I can tell you.’

  ‘But why come back now? To look for Carrie?’ Tina felt hope rising.

  Sandy twisted his cap again. ‘I can’t tell you that, pet. He wanted to see England again, found he had the money to do it, I suppose, and fancied having another look at the Wall.’

  ‘Is he married, Sandy?’

  ‘I doubt it, though he didn’t say so in as many words.’

  Sandy fell into silence and Tina divined something was still troubling him. ‘Shall you tell her?’ she asked at last. ‘Is that what’s worrying you?’

  ‘Well now, I’ll tell you. When first I found out for sure, when you told me the name, I’d meant to keep it dark. He’s got two more days here, that’s all. I asked myself why I should speak up, why I shouldn’t just let him walk on along the Wall and out of Carrie’s life without her being a word the wiser ... Oh, I know you’ll think it the meanest trick ever, but love makes you mean sometimes—unscrupulous. I told myself I’d never have a chance with Carrie once she knew about Lofty—that would be it! Whereas if I let him walk off there wasn’t a chance in a million he’d ever come back ... It would have been so easy.’

  ‘But you couldn’t?’ Tina asked softly.

  That’s just it. I couldn’t, hinney. For it came to me after a sleepless night or two that if I’m as fond of Carrie as I say I am, then what matters is that she should be happy, not that I should grab what’s rightly belonged to another man for years. Not but what I think he doesn’t deserve her ... But that’s not the point. I’ve decided now she’s got to know. But how? It’s a delicate kind of thing to handle. What would you suggest, now?’

  He watched her anxiously. Tina, still struggling against incredulity, deeply touched also by Sandy’s confession, found at first she hadn’t an idea in her head. Then a brainwave came.

  ‘Can’t you ask Carrie to tea—say you’ve an ex-Air Force man staying with you, and he wants to talk about the old days in the service? You know Carrie—she won’t be able to resist it. And then—I don’t know—they ought to recognise each other, surely?’

  ‘But you’d come too, pet? I couldn’t handle it on my own.’

  ‘If you like, yes. Shall I ask her tonight, then?’

  Gloom descended again. ‘What if she says no?’

  Then we’ll think of something else.’

  ‘Remember I’m not exactly in her good books now.’

  ‘Leave it to me, Sandy.’

  He got up. ‘You’re a canny little lass, Tina. I knew you’d sort it all out for me. And thanks.’ But there was a resigned sadness in his eyes as he left the house.

  When Tina relayed the invitation that evening, Carrie brightened considerably.

  ‘Air Force, eh? I wonder where he was stationed. We had a few Aussie blokes at my last Bomber Command station. Could be we’ve even met.’

  ‘It’s a small world.’ Tina agreed cautiously. Now that the die was cast, she found herself deeply troubled over the whole thing, not really convinced, even now, that this was the right way to deal with such a cataclysmic event. Yet perhaps there was no right way. To warn Carrie of Lofty’s identity seemed in one sense only fair, yet it would also give her time to get cold feet. Whereas meeting accidentally, her reactions should be much more natural, even if the shock proved tremendous. There was also the fact that meeting Lofty out of the blue could be construed into a miracle, and it was a miracle Carrie needed.

  As for Lofty’s possible reactions, they were as yet a closed book, and caused Tina considerable unease. Had Lofty any feelings left for his old Wall sweetheart? And if so, why had he not come to England years ago? Would it be to him just a pleasant and nostalgic episode from the fast past?

  Even so, she told herself, feelings could be revived, new bonds forged. She was tugged both ways, wanting Carrie’s happiness, yet sorrowful for the faithful Sandy, who had resisted a temptation most men would have succumbed to without a conscience.

  ‘What shall you wear?’ Tina asked, hoping Carrie wouldn’t settle for one of her dull suits.

  ‘What do you think? Mustn’t let the side down.’ Tina knew she meant the Air Force.

  ‘I think you should wear your new peach dress, the one you bought for spring coming. It’s spring now, isn’t it?’

  ‘You could have fooled me.’ Carrie glanced out of the window at the wet lashing tree-tops below the house. ‘And it’s got no sleeves. I could always wear that grey cardigan, I suppose.’

  ‘No!’ Tina cried in despair, for the said grey cardigan did nothing but extinguish Carrie’s delicate colouring. ‘The cardigan would ruin it. You can wear your best coat, the white tweed, and take it off when you get there. Sandy’s cottage is always warm.’

  ‘And what do you know about Sandy’s cottage?’ Carrie asked sharply.

  ‘He showed me round one day.’

  ‘He did, did he?’ Carrie seemed suddenly put out. ‘You’ve seen more than I have, then. All right, the peach dress, if you insist. It’ll be wasted on Sandy, but this other man might appreciate it.’ The next day was bright but cold and the white tweed coat very necessary. Tina settled for a sweater and skirt with matching long jacket. They set out in good time along the woodland path; Tina by this time in wild alarm, Carrie mildly resigned.

  ‘If I know Sandy Armstrong, it’ll be a pretty rough tea,’ she remarked. ‘Slabs of bread and cheese, probably. And I can’t think what he’s doing away from the quarry at this hour.’

  They reached the cottage. Sandy met them at the door, displaying a cheerfulness which did not deceive Tina.

  ‘Here you are, then! By, Carrie hinney, you’re looking smart!’

  ‘It’s not for your benefit.’ Carrie retorted. ‘Well, aren’t you going to ask us in?’ He stood teetering on the doorstep, blocking their way.

  ‘Well now, it’s like this. My lodger, he’s just gone for a stroll do
wn the path yonder, towards the dig. Why don’t you walk down and meet him, Carrie?—tell him tea’s ready. It’ll give you both the chance of a quiet crack about the Air Force.’

  ‘Oh, all right. What does he look like?’

  ‘Tall—he’s wearing a raincoat and a slouch hat—looks just like an outback farmer.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Carrie walked on while Tina followed Sandy indoors. By the redly banked fire they faced each other.

  ‘Isn’t it awful?’ Tina shivered. ‘I feel we’re throwing her to the lions.’

  ‘Well, hardly that. Isn’t it the miracle she’s always wanted?’

  ‘Yes, I know. As long as the miracle doesn’t go wrong.’ Tina was still uneasy.

  ‘Aye. Like yon last one, you mean? Seeing the Roman sentry?’ he asked gloomily. ‘But it’s up to them now. There’s nowt more we can do, and if we’ve done wrong—well, she can’t think much less of me than she does now.’

  He gestured towards the tossing branches outside. ‘Wind’s getting into a nasty quarter. I shouldn’t be surprised if we don’t have a storm tonight. That’s why I kept up a good fire. What about the tea-table, pet? Is it all right?’

  Tina surveyed the spread table with its thick white crockery, the doorstep slices of bread and butter and bought cakes pathetically waiting on bare platters. But everything was clean, the milk in its jug covered with muslin, the big brown tea-pot warming at the hearthside. Tina gave her approval, then moved to the fire to warm her hands.

  ‘I feel cold.’ she confessed. ‘But it’s just panic, I know. They must have met now. I’m trying to imagine what they’re thinking and feeling.’

  Sandy, who seemed too restless to sit down, reached to the mantelshelf to fill his pipe. ‘I only hope, for her sake, he’s saying the right things, even if it means I’ve to give up hope myself.’

  ‘Poor Sandy.’ Tina said softly. ‘It’s worse for you.’

  He roved the room while she sat silent, watching the fire. The tick of the clock seemed significantly loud. At times Sandy jerked back the curtain, peering sideways along the path. Tina saw the long plumes of the larches lifted and tossed by the savagely gathering wind. Surely the weather would drive those other two inside soon.

  ‘No sign of them yet.’ he said on his third trip to the window. ‘Looks like things are going well, would you say?’ His voice was divided between hope and despair.

  ‘It’s hard to tell.’ Tina fretted.

  Suddenly Sandy stiffened. ‘She’s coming ... On her own, though. Here, she mustn’t see us looking!’ And he blundered to the armchair and began a furious smoking of his pipe. Tina sat keyed to an unbearable nervous tension.

  The door opened. Carrie stood there, her face blank and as white as her coat. For some time she did not move.

  ‘Come in, come in!’ Sandy urged her. ‘But you’re on your own. Didn’t you see him?’ His attempt to be casual was pretty woeful.

  She closed the door behind her. ‘He sent a message.’ She spoke tonelessly. ‘He doesn’t want any tea. He’s gone on walking up the Wall—said to tell you he’d have a sandwich at the pub later.’

  Tina, with another anxious glance at Carrie’s blanched face, began quietly to make the tea, while Sandy hovered in an agony of uncertainty on the hearthrug. Tea for three, then?’ He tried to smile.

  Carrie walked to a chair at the table, sat down, and covered her face. ‘Don’t, Sandy—please don’t make a joke of this.’

  ‘I’m sorry. You know me, always put my foot in it.’ His face was crimson now.

  After a moment, she raised her head, looked hard at both of them. ‘You knew, then? You sent me out there to meet him? But of course you knew—his name and everything. And yet you were both wrong. He’s not the Lofty I knew.’ Tina was shaken by the sorrow in her face.

  ‘Not—’ Sandy began.

  Carrie dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘Oh, the name’s right. And in a sense it’s the right man. But that’s all.’

  Tina pushed a cup of tea towards her. ‘You’ve had a shock, Carrie ... Don’t talk just now. Drink some tea.’

  Carrie looked at her almost without recognition. ‘Tea? Thanks.’ She took a sip, set down the cup and remained with her head down, her gaze on the table. At last she spoke again.

  ‘I don’t know if I can explain ... Oh, we recognised each other. At least I did first—he was a little slower. You can imagine how I felt. I could hardly speak. It was like a miracle. He seemed—just pleased, somehow, not shocked or anything like I was. Long time no see and all that kind of cheery banter—’

  She sat dazedly gazing at the tea. ‘I—I didn’t know how to deal with it, you see. He was a stranger. The Lofty I knew—instinct had always told me he was dead. And in a way my instinct had been right. The mistake was mine, thinking that after all those years a man could stay the same, with the same feelings...’

  She fell silent again. Tina poured some tea for Sandy, but he shook his head. She noticed his pipe had gone out and that his whole heart was in his eyes as he watched Carrie.

  Carrie warmed her hands on the tea-cup. Tina saw she was shivering. ‘He told me all about working on the Burma railway, and then his release and going to Australia. That was the part I couldn’t understand. It was just as if he’d changed personality during all that horror, so that nothing he’d said or done back here in England meant anything any more ... He’s never married, either.’

  She stared in front of her. ‘But the bit that really shook me, really made me see how changed he was, was his attitude to the Wall. I told him about the Mithraeum temple and he just laughed, said what fanatics we used to be and wondered why we got so het up about it all. Oh, he’d wanted to see the Wall again, just out of curiosity. But all his interest in archaeology—it’s gone. He said—’ her voice broke—‘He said it was just an old ruin after all. He hardly mentioned it. All he wanted to talk about was Australia—he said he wouldn’t come back to England for a fortune.’

  ‘Drink your tea, Carrie, please!’ Tina pleaded.

  ‘Let me get this off my chest first, there’s a good girl ... Well, somehow I managed, to keep it light. It wasn’t really as hard as you might think because as I’ve told you this wasn’t my Lofty. He was a brash stranger whose whole life had been turned upside down since I knew him. He couldn’t even remember the names of the R.A.F. stations where he’d served—said the Air Force was a back number now anyway.’

  Carrie let out a long sighing breath and began to drink her tea. ‘There, that’s about it ... I suppose I could tell you a lot more, but it’s enough to put you in the picture. I suppose you both thought me a fool all along, expecting anything better. And it was kind of you—I do appreciate it—kind of you to arrange it the way you did.’

  She drank her tea for some time in silence, while Sandy cleared his throat, unnecessarily knocked out his pipe and suggested to Tina that she fill up the tea-pot.

  Suddenly Carrie turned on him. ‘I just don’t understand you. After all this asking me to dances, chasing after me ...You needn’t have said a word. When you found out who he was, why didn’t you just let him walk on along the Wall and out of my life?’

  Sandy coloured and cleared his throat. No words came.

  ‘Well, why?’ she insisted. ‘You took a risk, didn’t you?’ Tina noticed a return of firmness to her voice, an improvement in the previous chalky colour of her face.

  Sandy drew up another chair at the table. ‘It was all I could do, Carrie hinney. I’d tried all ways to make you notice me. All yon daft tricks I played, burying things on the dig, playing jokes—why, all I wanted was to give you a laugh. The same with “Cushie Butterfield” on the pipes. I meant well, that was the trouble, yet all I managed to do was put you in a bad fettle.’

  He hitched his chair nearer hers. ‘Aye, and that Roman sentry affair. It all went sour on me. Yet that was my first try at being serious ... All yon fooling about, playing practical jokes—why, it was the way I’d always gone on with lassies in
the past. They’d always seemed to like it. But I’d begun to see, just before the dance, that it wasn’t getting me anywhere. So I says to myself: “Sandy,” I says, “you’ve got to stop all this daftness. You’ve got to show her you can take a serious interest in the things she likes.” And that’s how I came to think up the Roman soldier bit. Only, like I said, it went sour on me.’

  Carrie was listening intently. Tina felt she ought to leave, yet she too was moved by his words.

  ‘So it came to—to this Lofty,’ he stammered. ‘At last I’d found something I could do for you, to prove I—well, cared about you.’ His face was crimson now. ‘It was the one thing I could do to make you happy, even if it meant I had to lose out—’

  Carrie reached out and touched his hand. ‘You great soft nitwit! You’ve behaved like a clot! What you didn’t know was—even while you were putting up all those blacks—I—’ She paused. ‘I know I tore you off a terrible strip over that Roman sentry. But I know now—why, it was the nicest thing you could have planned—’

  She seemed divided between laughter and tears. Tina tiptoed to the door, unnoticed. Time to leave, she decided.

  It would be tea for two, after all...

  Yet out in the gloom of the woods tears came to her eyes. Sandy and Carrie seemed at last on the brink of a warm understanding, even though it was built on the wreckage of Carrie’s dream. While her heart glowed for her two friends, thoughts of Adam overpowered her. Would she and Adam ever sit like that, oblivious of everyone in the spell of their shared emotions?

  Her pace dwindled. She had reached the burn where Rosie had sailed her boats. One of the frail craft was even now tossing in a miniature whirlpool under some boulders. She watched it blindly, struggling against a wave of intense feeling.

  Adam ... She knew now, without warning or reason, that she loved him. Mere physical fascination might have passed or been conquered. Now, despite their serious differences, she could no longer deny that her heart too was involved. She knew that she wanted his love, needed his worship, the same worship which Sandy, in his rough-hewn way, had for Carrie. And without it life would be as helpless and storm-tossed as Rosie’s paper boat.