The Storm Within

by Sue Peters

  Martha became vocally concerned about her lack of appetite and white-faced dejection, and Rob made the excuse that she found the heat trying. Hallam gave her a keen glance when she came down to breakfast on the Saturday morning, and for the third day

  running refused anything but a slice of toast, which

  she nibbled without appetite and left on her plate.

  "I've got to go into Barhill this morning," he told her. "Why not give yourself the morning off, there's no surgery today. If you want something to do, there's the saddle soap I promised young Jimmy, you could take that to him and stop over for a chat at the Martyr's Arms." He knew that she and Sue Grant had made friends, and that she was a welcome visitor at the village inn.

  "He's going into Barhill for the ring," thought Rob wretchedly. Verity had said that it would be ready on Saturday. Aloud, she asked the whereabouts of the saddle soap, glad of an excuse to quit the table, and as soon as she had searched it out from the surgery cupboard she took it up to her room and lingered there, waiting for the vet to go. She did not want him to offer her a lift into the village, the risk of being in the close proximity of the Land Rover with him would be too painful. To her tensed nerves he seemed longer than usual in getting ready to go out, and finally she heard him making a phone call which they knew instinctively must be to Wade Hollow. His crisp voice floated up the stairs.

  "I'll see you in about an hour, then. By the bottom of the Council House steps? Yes, that will do. 'Bye !"

  There was a sharp click as the receiver went down, and then footsteps, and the front door slammed to with a thud. Rob listened for the Land Rover engine to start up, and let the sound die away in the distance before she opened her door and came downstairs, the

  saddle soap clutched in her hand. She reached the hall, numb with a pain that somehow she must learn to bear, and Martha appeared from the kitchen quarters. The elderly housekeeper looked at her searchingly, but she made no comment, merely asking her passible whereabouts in case there were any telephone

  "I don't want to disturb Mister Hal this morning if I can help it," she said, and Rob's heart twisted.

  No, he would not want to be disturbed while he and Verity collected their ring. She held out the tin of saddle soap for Martha to see.

  "I'm going to take this along for Jimmy Grant," she explained. "He was a bit put out by the colour of the dog collar that—that Mr Rand gave him at the fete last week."

  Even saying his name hurt, thought Rob dully, feeling a faint surprise that she could still make normal conversation. She felt anything but normal, but the ache was all inside her, and she supposed it did not show on the outside.

  "Well, there's no need to hurry back, Miss Rob. Lunch will be a bit late today, to give Mister Hal a chance to get back from Barhill," Martha said, and Rob looked at her, surprised into speech.

  "I would have thought ... oh, never mind."

  She would have thought the vet would have stayed on in Barhill with Verity, perhaps given her lunch there, and then an afternoon out. Not simply come back to Mill House for lunch as if it were an ordinary day. But perhaps he was bringing Verity back ? Or

  maybe they were coming back, and going out again for the afternoon and evening, maybe in the Lancia? Rob remembered that he had taken the Land Rover with him just now, she had recognised the note of its engine.

  She bit her lip angrily, and put a firm check on her thoughts. She must not let them run wild like that, such a road led to disaster, and anyway it was none of her business how Verity and her fiancé celebrated their engagement—or did not celebrate it. That was entirely up to them.

  She collected Hoppy from the garage, and somehow the familiar feel of the uneven stuffing in the driving seat was comforting. The Austin was not so luxurious as the Lancia, but it was friendly. Perhaps now she would never have that ride in the big car that Hallam Rand had so carelessly promised her; probably he had forgotten all about it by now, anyway.

  Red gave a sharp bark, reminding her of her promise to take him with her, and she opened the passenger door and waited for him to jump in. He curled up on the seat beside her, and looked at her questioningly, as if he sensed the disturbance in her mind.

  "Your guard duty will soon be over." She rubbed his ears wistfully, and he flagged his tail in response, satisfied now that she had spoken to him. "Oh, Red, I feel so miserable !"

  But by dint of a self-discipline she did not know that she possessed, none of her misery showed in her face when she parked the Austin on the green by the

  duckpond, waved with a false gaiety in response to the policeman's friendly greeting from the door of his cottage, and made her way towards the Martyr's Arms in search of Jimmy.

  "He's across the fields at the ford, fishing as usual," said his father, pausing in the strenuous task of hauling casks of beer up from the cellar into the bar above.

  "Then I'll go along and search him out," Rob decided. She did not want to go back to Mill House and spend the morning alone with her thoughts, and the walk along the river bank to the ford would be pleasant, as would Jimmy's company, she guessed. An hour spent with the child, in the uncomplicated pursuit of capturing minnows from the river, was just what she needed at the moment.

  "I'll take the saddle soap along to show him," she told Tom Grant. "It's for the collar that he had last Saturday. Perhaps Sam has got it on?"

  "Come back here for coffee," interrupted Sue Grant, appearing flushed from the kitchen. "I'll have the baking finished by then."

  "Thanks, I will."

  Rob stepped outside, out of the way of the busily occupied pair, and skirting the back of the hostelry she came to an ancient kissing gate let into an overgrown field hedge, that gave on to the footpath running along the river bank.

  It was cooler by the water, though not much, and Red panted along behind Rob, both their footsteps flagging in the overpowering heat. If only the weather would break, thought Rob longingly as she looked at

  the brassy sky. If the storm came, it would clear the air and the heat afterwards would not then seem so bad. It never did at home by the sea, somehow the water always tempered the summers, no matter how hot they were, but here, inland, the earth absorbed the rays of the sun, and gave back the heat so that it came at you from both above and below. It shimmered now in iridescent waves across the flagging grass, causing Red to gaze at the water with longing eyes.

  "You can go in when we get to the ford," promised Rob. She could see Jimmy in the distance, or at least Jimmy's hat. It was a new one, she noticed as she got nearer. They had never recovered the other from the river at Mill House. The wheel had taken it under, she recalled with a shudder.

  Jimmy saw her coming and waved his fishing net, and Red quickened his pace. Soon he joined Sam in the water alongside the boy. Jimmy was bare footed as usual, his jam-jar in one hand showing tiny black figures scuttling round the sides.

  "You've had a bit of luck." Rob indicated the jar. "Oh yes, there are hundreds of them here. Come and look !"

  Rob peered over the edge of the bank, and Jimmy beckoned her impatiently.

  "You'll have to wade along here with me, you can't see the fish from the bank."

  Well, why not? She had not paddled for ages. Swiftly Rob stripped off her stockings and shoes, and

  holding her skirts above her knees cautiously made her way to the middle of the ford to join the child.

  The water felt cool and sweet, it was only just past her ankles, and for several yards on either side of the actual ford it ran shallow across smooth stones. An ideal place for the child to play.

  "Come and look !"

  Jimmy waded across and grabbed her hand, and she allowed herself to be pulled along the bank of stones to the centre of the river.

  "There they are, look. Hundreds of them !" he cried enthusiastically.

  Perhaps not quite hundreds, but certainly a lot of minnows. They lay among the stones, facing upstream, their little fins working lazily to keep them stable. As Rob's shadow fell a
cross them they dived out of sight, but soon reappeared. Jimmy waved his jam-jar in front of her nose.

  "I've got some big ones to take home."

  Rob regarded the half-inch-long captives doubtfully, but decided that discretion would be kinder, and dutifully admired them.

  "I see you've got a new hat," she commented.

  "Oh, that was Mum. She bought it in Barhill when I lost the old one," he replied disgustedly, dismissing hats as female frailty. Evidently, thought Rob, the thought of what happened to his former battered possession did not bother him.

  "Look ! There's a big one !"

  The child pointed excitedly into the water, and Sam, joining in the fun, thrust his nose in beside the

  boy's finger. He emerged spluttering, and Jimmy laughed delightedly.

  "Sam can't hold his breath under water," he thudded. "I can—Dad taught me. I can go six strokes before I have to come up for air," he announced proudly.

  Rob smiled, remembering his valiant efforts to save himself from the tug of the mill race. His ability to swim had probably saved his life that morning. It had certainly made her own task of rescuing him that much easier, and it explained his calm acceptance of the ducking, afterwards. Laughing, the child patted the water with the flat of his hand, sending a shower of spray over the setter. Red wuffed gruffly, and bounced out of the way, splashing the boy in his turn.

  "Hey, stop it, you two !"

  Rob gathered her skirts and fled for the footpath, shaking herself free of the myriad drops that clung to her dress. The grass felt warn' under her bare feet, and she screwed up her eyes against the green shimmer of it that stretched away towards the hedge without a break, except where a large, dark bulk interrupted the heat-baked stillness of the moribund earth. The dark blob moved, with a different movement from the heat shimmer of the grass, and Rob shielded her eyes with her hand against the glare, to get a clearer look. It still moved, coming in their direction with a purposeful, deliberate progress that all of a sudden stopped the breath in her throat.

  "Jimmy !" she whispered.

  "Coming, Miss Fenton !" The child splashed across

  the water, and scrambled up the bank, waving his jar of minnows gleefully. "Look, I've got a . . . oh !"

  Seeing Rob's attention was not on his catch, the boy followed her gaze.

  "It's Mr Ford's bull !" His words came in a dry whisper, through a throat constricted by sudden fear. He moved closer to her, his hand going out uncertainly to clutch at her skirts.

  "He runs it in a footpath field." The words she had heard at Wade Hollow flashed through Rob's mind, and she was unconscious of speaking them aloud until Jimmy answered her.

  "Yes, but never in this one, or Mum wouldn't have let me come here to fish. He's always in the field further downstream, beyond the fence. He must have broken through the hedge."

  Remembering the general state of repair at Norton End Farm, Rob did not wonder that the animal had broken through a fence; it would present little difficulty, she thought scathingly. But there was no time for recriminations now. The bull had seen them, and it was obvious that it meant mischief.

  "Come here, Red !"

  She called the setter to her, speaking quietly, and the dog came with a bound, its game forgotten. Rob blessed the fact that it was well trained, and did not need coaxing to her. She reached out with a hand that trembled, and turned the dog's head towards the approaching animal.

  "Over there, Red."

  The setter stiffened under her hand, its hackles

  rising, communicating the message that it had seen and understood, even before the low snarl musicked through its throat.

  "Jimmy." Briefly she hugged the child to her, reassuring him. "Take Sam with you and get on to the other bank, quickly, and run for home."

  "There isn't a footpath on that side."

  "Never mind about trespassing." Rob understood his objection, but she had to overrule his training now. "Do as I say, there's no time to argue. Run and tell your father. Quickly, now!"

  Mention of his father did the trick. Jimmy had every young child's belief that fathers could work miracles, and accustomed to reasonable obedience, the urgency of Rob's command sped his heels homewards. He bundled Sam under his arm and crossed the ford to the other side in one long, continuous watersplash, and with a white-faced backward glance at the tableau across the water he took off at his best speed towards the Martyr's Arms, tossing his fishing net and jam-jar into the play of the stream to free himself for quicker running.

  The bull caught sight of the retreating child, and quickened its pace to a trot. It changed course, making for the edge of the ford, and Rob knew with terrible certainty that she must prevent it from reaching the other bank. Jimmy's short legs would not stand a chance against the enraged speed of the huge Friesian cross.

  The sight of its quarry disappearing turned the bull's trot into a charge, and in seconds the yards

  between them became feet. The dog snarled, high-pitched, and Rob glanced down.

  "Take him, Red !"

  She grabbed her two shoes from the ground at her feet, and ran towards the bull. The dog seemed to understand what she wanted, and flanked out towards the huge beast on its other side. With all the force at her command Rob hurled her shoe at the enormous black face. It struck the bull's forehead and bounced off, and she flung the other. At the same time Red leapt at it from the other side, and the bull pulled up short of the river bank, momentarily confused by the unexpected attack. Red pressed his advantage, snapping at the bull's heels, and emitting a positive volley of high-pitched yelps. The Friesian turned to face its tormentor, but the dog, wary of its horns, kept just out of range, his lithe red body easily twisting out of reach of the great swaying head.

  "How like Lewis Ford," thought Rob irrelevantly. "He hasn't even bothered to have the animal de-horned."

  Thwarted by the setter's tip-and-run tactics, the bull turned to an easier target. Flicking away the irritation of the constant stream of river gravel that was all Rob could find to throw once she had let her shoes go, the bull spun like a ballet dancer to face her, and with an earth-shattering bellow lowered its head, and charged straight at her. For one paralysing second Rob's legs refused to run. A scream of warning from the dog galvanised her into life again, and she fled at

  a tangent, away from the line of charge. Once again the bull spun round with incredible speed, and once again it charged.

  "How long can this go on?" Rob wondered desperately, gasping under the relentless heat, and yet cold as ice inside her from terror such as she had never known. Her heart thumped agonizingly at the base of her throat until it seemed as if it must choke her.

  "Oh, Jimmy, run ! Run !" she pleaded silently, knowing that now she had to try to save herself as well as the child.

  Three times the bull charged, and three times she managed to evade it by an ever narrowing margin. With something akin to despair, she realised that her strength was running out. Sapped alike by heat and fear, her energy was draining rapidly. The bull paused, and Rob stopped, too, panting, moving backwards slowly, desperate to put space between herself and the maddened animal. It watched her redly, pawing the ground in little eddies of dust, and then suddenly, as if the breathing space had recharged its batteries, it gave another tremendous bellow and hurled itself towards her.

  Rob spun round and ran. The few seconds' pause had given her renewed strength, and she exerted all her resources to dodge the murderous charge. For a few seconds she succeeded, her speed taking her across and away from the bull's path, and then her bare foot caught on a sharp, upturned piece of stone, and she slipped. The pain of the raw-edged stone seared through her foot like a hot steel, and she gasped, her

  leg turning under her. She staggered, hopelessly off balance, and instantly grabbing its advantage, the bull turned on to her, head lowered, intent to kill.

  A sharp, unbearable pain seared through her thigh, and she felt herself lifted off her feet. The piled thunder clouds swung i
n a dizzy arc above her as she hung poised, rag doll-like, over the bull's head. From what seemed to be a long distance away she was conscious of Red's frantic screaming, saw him leap repeatedly at the bull's huge head, and heard, from an even greater distance, the sound of shouts.

  With a sharp rending sound, cloth parted from cloth, and the bull's horn disentangled itself at last from her clothing. The animal gave a savage toss of its head, and with a final wild fling they parted company. Rob sailed through the air and hit the ground with a lung-emptying thud. She lay still, helpless now to defend herself, waves of dizziness flooding and receding about her spinning head. From somewhere far above her came the sound of a loud bang.

  "The storm has broken at last," she thought hazily. Her one side felt wet. Perhaps it was raining already. The grass was warm and soft, and she turned her face into it gratefully. She knew that she ought to try and get up, try to run away, but she could no longer remember the reason why. Her body felt limp, without sensation, and wearily she let it lie. She tried to think why she had come here, along the river bank. It had something to do with soap, but she was too tired to know what. The storm must be very bad, for it was growing dark. From somewhere miles away on

  the other side of the darkness, she felt strong arms lift her. Heard a voice whisper close to her ear.

  "Rob ! Oh, Rob darling...."

  And then there was nothing. Nothing but the darkness of the storm.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE room was strange.

  Rob knew that she was not at Mill House, because she could not hear the sound of the mill wheel. And the bed that she lay on had not got the familiar, comfortable dip in the middle. This one was firm and straight. She shifted her position experimentally, and gave a gasp as agony seared through her side. Instantly someone rose from a chair on the other side of the room, and came to her. It was Sue Grant.