“Gwenna?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?”
Juliana started at the sound of the name. She had heard Alistair’s theory, but no one else had mentioned the girl until then.
“I’m Juliana, Simon. Don’t you recognise me?”
She spoke gently to him, at the same time winding the belt from her mack around his wrist as an extra tether. She started to walk again, desperate to get him indoors and with anyone who might know how to help him.
He stopped and tugged at her hand, pulling her round so he could see her face.
“Gwenna,” he said. “Tell me you are all right.”
Juliana heard the relief in his voice, and seeing that he had relaxed a little, she egged him on.
“I’m fine, Simon,” she said. “I’m not hurt. Just a little muddy, that’s all. Now, be a good boy and come with me. We need to get home. Jamie will be there, he’ll know what to do.”
Simon gave her a look of hope and nodded.
“Jamie always knows what to do. Take me to Jamie.”
“I’m taking you to him,” she soothed, holding his hands and pulling him along. “Now do come on!”
The storm was full overhead when they got back, the lightning showing the way through the blackness as they burst through the side door. Jamie and Adrien were talking in the side passage, holding oilskins and pocket torches. The men wore worried expressions and looked rather appalled at the motley couple before them, joined by the belt of Juliana’s coat and both filthy. Most of the mud had washed off, but that was all that could be said for them.
“Are you all right, Jules?” demanded Adrien. “We were just going out to look for you!”
“I’m fine, apart from being a bit damp,” she replied.
Adrien took in the mud stains and scratches about her and was about to object to her use of adjectives when she turned to Jamie, who was already working on his friend, stripping the sodden jumper from him. He passed it to Florence, who passed him a thin towel in exchange, with which Jamie began to rub Simon’s hair.
“I had to bring him, Jamie. I was worried,” said Juliana. “The thunder started and it was cold… I didn’t know what to do.”
Jamie gave her a quick glance, taking in her grazed hands and knees, but his eyes flickered back towards his friend, who was now shivering uncontrollably.
“You did the best thing, Julie. Thank you,” he said, then turned back to Simon and led him towards the back stairs.
Simon went with him automatically, his eyes still blank, his entire body awaiting the next crash of thunder. He was still muttering, and Jamie seemed to be answering him, although none of their conversation was audible. It was then that the dog began to be curious about his new surroundings and that delicious smell of meat that was in the air, and poked his nose from the top of her mackintosh. Adrien started, then looked down curiously. Juliana unbuttoned her front and lifted the dog out.
“I rescued him, and then Simon rescued both of us, from the quarry. He’s hurt, Adrien. We need to find some bandages and then some food and a nice warm blanket.”
She was clearly not going to do anything about herself until the dog was seen to, so he led her to the scullery, where they set about tending the dog’s wounded leg, picking out the various pieces of buckshot that had lodged there. After cleaning and bandaging the leg, Adrien declared that he thought with care he would hardly even limp, earning himself a grateful smile from his wife. They took a rug from the linen cupboard, making him a warm bed in the corner of the scullery. The kitchen provided a plate of brown bread and warm meat gravy, which were gratefully received and consumed, and only then did Juliana agree to go upstairs for a bath herself. She had dried her hair and then her legs on a kitchen towel and was wild-headed and barefoot as Adrien led her upstairs. Damaris was coming along the hallway.
“Jamie’s got him bathed and in bed. At least he’s warm now. I’m just going to get some hot milk for him. He is not making any sense, but having Jamie there seems to help him.”
Another crash outside made even Damaris flinch.
“This is a truly horrible storm,” she continued, looking outside. “We haven’t had anything like this in years. I’m aching just from the noise. Lord knows what it’s like inside Simon’s head.”
She finally seemed to notice Juliana’s feet and head and her mouth twitched.
“Looks like you could do with a wash and brush up yourself,” she said, her round eyes amused for a moment. “And bed, perhaps.”
Juliana returned the smile tiredly.
“I’m on my way. There is nothing else I want.”
“I’ll bring you some milk too. You look exhausted.”
“I hate hot milk,” replied Juliana, exhausted beyond comprehension.
Damaris looked bossy.
“Not mine, you won’t,” she said mulishly. “No arguments!”
The milk, when it arrived, was delicious, sweetened with heather honey and nutmeg. It was not hard to comply when Adrien ordered that she drink every drop, and eat the plate of bread and butter that accompanied it. He had insisted on running her a boiling hot bath, and now he watched her finish the milk before tucking her up in her bed with two hot water bottles at her feet, and a brief kiss on her brow. The dog, christened Hobbs by his new mistress after the odd job man at Costelloe’s who had walked with a limp, was already asleep in the corner of the room. He had sneaked up from downstairs to find his rescuer. The look on the dog’s face when Adrien had tried to move him had been enough, and Adrien had given in and made a bed so that the dog could be near Juliana.
Juliana passed a turbulent night, tossing and turning through the excruciating bangs of the thunder, and the way the noise and the charged atmosphere seemed to follow her into sleep. The only comfort was the dog, who remained curled up during the entire night on his rug, snuffling softly in his exhaustion, and in moments of lucidity she lay and listened to him. Finally the storm passed, and she fell asleep to dream of the quarry and the dark grey water that had awaited her.
By morning, the sun had returned, but the wind still blew, and the banging of a door somewhere awoke her around her usual time. With her head aching, she arose and bathed, using some rouge to add a touch of colour to her face. She was aware that the roses that her first days at Trevennen had brought to her cheeks were long gone, and her nightmares were having an effect. Those long moments on the cliff edge, the rush of terror and the strain of her fall almost seemed as real as the actual event.
Thinking of nightmares led her to remembering the guest she had brought home yesterday; at least, the one who was not at the moment sitting by her feet, looking up at her with a pleased and hopeful expression on his whiskery face that brought a smile to her face despite her fatigue.
Thirty minutes later she knocked gently on the door to Jamie’s room and slipped inside quickly upon hearing a voice answer her. Simon was lying in the bed, propped up on a couple of pillows. She gave him a smile.
“Hobbs wanted to say good morning to you,” she said, picking the dog up and depositing him on the blanket.
The bed linens had been neatened but were rumpled and creased beyond easy fixing. Despite the pallor of his skin and lines under his eyes that spoke of his tortuous night, Simon managed a tired smile and began to scratch behind the dog’s ears.
“Hobbs, is it? It suits him.”
He sounded weak, but the shadows had retreated from his eyes and Juliana saw how his face lit up as the dog turned and licked his hand. She sat on the end of the bed and watched them fondly, then looked around. The armchair was piled with blankets; Jamie had evidently taken his nursing duties seriously. The curtains were pulled back and the sun now shone through the lattices, which were pushed ajar to let in the fresh air. She looked out. Unlike her own room, she couldn’t see the gardens from here, but beyond the huge tree that sat directly opposite, the view was magnificent, the ground stretching off up to the moor in a long, undulating ribbon of green and mauve and pale brown.
“You
can see for miles!” she said. “I bet you can almost see your hut from here!”
“I should be getting back,” he said, moving to throw off the blankets, and Juliana turned back to him immediately.
“Stay right where you are,” she said, holding up a hand in protest. “Jamie and Damaris will be so cross with me if I let you up.”
He scowled a little, but the mention of his nurses stopped his movement and he sat back against the pillows. Hobbs snuggled back down against his side, and Juliana took a step towards the bed.
“Don’t be angry about me bringing you here, please,” she said. “I was worried. I couldn’t leave you alone.”
Simon sighed and turned his face away.
“I know you wanted to help,” he said. “And I hurt you, didn’t I? I remember that. I thought you were Gwenna.”
“I wasn’t hurt at all. A little muddy perhaps, but nothing that couldn’t be washed off. I understand that the thunder was unbearable to you.”
He shivered and gave her an odd look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Sometimes I can’t help it. The noise gets too much.”
She put her hand on his shoulder gently. He flinched but didn’t move away.
“Please don’t think about it any more. You saved my life, Simon. I owe you so much.”
“I hate people seeing me like this,” he said huskily.
She turned to pour him a glass of water. His voice was so low she could barely hear it.
“I can’t think when the noise starts. All I can hear are the shells, and I know I’m going to have to go out into it. Pick up whatever’s left of all those men.”
“And yet you did it, Simon. You didn’t turn away,” she replied. “Jamie always says—”
“That’s all anyone talks about,” he said, suddenly annoyed. “Jamie saved my life, too. Just a couple of days afore. It weren’t quite so dramatic, so no one remembers!”
His accent got broader as he spoke, and Juliana realised that it had happened before, when they were in the quarry. Moments of emotion stripped back the overlaid veneer of education, and he reverted to the dialect of his youth. He looked at her sulkily.
“What happened?” she asked, pleased that with his temper he had lost the fraught look that pained her to see.
“We were in the main trench, waiting for a couple of sappers to come back,” he replied after a considerable pause, his breath short. “Tons of noise, and then some screaming. One of them got tangled in the barbed wire and had been shot while he was hanging there.”
His brow wrinkled, his eyes glassy as he thought back.
“Right horrible noise it was. Like a fox in a trap; squealed just like that. Me and another bearer was trying to get a look at him; see where he was caught up. Wondering if we could do summat. I got careless. The light were bad and I stayed up too long. Next thing I knew I were flat on the boards, with Jamie on top of me. And right behind where I had been standing were a couple of bullets, just where my head had been. I still don’t know how Jamie knew. But my head would have been all over the trench wall if he hadn’t dragged me down.”
“And in doing so, he saved himself,” said Juliana. “You were still there to find him when he needed you.”
Simon nodded. “I suppose so. We don’t talk about it now. That’s what you do, in’t it? Friends. You understand, without talk.”
She sat on the bed and took his hand. He started, about to draw his hand away, then looked at her and they remembered the shared kiss of the day before. He relaxed and she realised that she was sitting on a bed, holding hands with a man she had not known two weeks ago. She knew he was looking at her as he had done the day before, and it was her turn to look away.
She was aware of Simon in a way different to Jamie. She felt almost maternal sometimes to Jamie; other times she felt like a sister. Those kisses in the tower had been unexpectedly stirring, but she knew that Jamie needed a lover who would be all things to him. Simon, in a strange way, was surer of himself. He needed no one. If he wanted companionship, he sought it out. When he required solitude, he tucked himself away. His fierce independence might come at a cost, but he was willing to pay it. It was what kept him sane.
That wild kiss on the quarry edge had stirred something else in Juliana’s breast. Not the fierce protective feelings she had for Jamie, nor the kinship and accompanying desire she felt for her husband. But there was a thrill to Simon’s touch nonetheless. There was another side to him that she could sense, when he had kissed her. And his attraction to her was flattering. She had seen his eyes after he had kissed her, and the longing there had been clear. In a way, she thought, the thunder had been lucky. The moment had been forced to pass without any difficulty between them.
She squeezed his hand.
“You don’t have to explain,” she said. “About anything. We are friends, aren’t we? Like you said, friends understand.”
“Friends understand what?” asked Jamie, entering the room with a breakfast tray. He shooed Juliana and the dog off the bed and, extending the legs, placed the tray carefully over the blankets, ignoring Simon’s protests.
“Real friends just understand,” said Juliana.
“That’s the only kind to have,” replied Jamie, pouring tea into the three cups he had on the tray. “Don’t wriggle so, Simon. You’ll have the tray over. I brought an extra cup, Julie. Thought you could skip the kitchen this morning.”
He looked tired, but the immediate worry of last night had disappeared and he was smiling as he handed her a cup. She took it and sat at the desk, letting Jamie move the blankets from the chair and slump down into it. Simon looked down at the tray, realising that he was not going to be allowed to refuse, and started to eat. He chewed slowly on some toast, dipping the point into the softly boiled egg Jamie had coaxed out of Mrs Fennell. He didn’t look completely comfortable, lying in someone else’s bed in borrowed pyjamas, but seemed to have accepted that he wasn’t going to be allowed to rush off any time soon.
In the end Damaris insisted that he stay in bed all morning and, backed up by Jamie, she was not to be gainsaid. Juliana found a pack of cards, and they sat for a while and played rummy. They all met again at luncheon, Simon in his dried and pressed clothes, looking shy but stoic. Fancy had gone to Penzance to meet a friend for lunch, and Juliana could not help but be pleased that she was not there to make Simon feel uncomfortable.
“You look exhausted, Julie. Poor thing,” said Damaris, proffering a dish of peas. It was Wednesday again and the two maids had gone out together, so they were serving luncheon themselves.
“Bad dreams last night,” she answered shortly. “I hope I did not wake you?”
“I did hear something,” said Damaris. “I didn’t realise that it was you, though. I thought it was…”
She broke off here, realising that there had been someone else in the house who had been screaming last night too. Jamie kicked her under the table and she reddened.
“Sometimes it’s better to talk,” Alistair said gently.
Adrien nodded. “It does seem worse if you have to pretend nothing happened. It used to happen to me, when I first came home,” he confessed. “I suspect it’s happened to a lot of us.”
Simon looked at him thankfully, and Juliana was pleased at both her husband’s perspicacity and willingness to talk openly. She ventured a little further.
“I keep going back to the cliff edge in my dreams. It’s like there’s a veil there, and if I can just grab it, I can see who is underneath. One day, I think, it might lift.”
Her hands shook a little as she lifted her fork. Her companions all looked at her, Simon especially compassionate. Jamie looked at her with worry in his eyes. She attempted a smile across the table at them.
“Have you eaten enough?” Damaris pressed more fruit pie on Simon.
He rolled his eyes at her. “I’ll go pop if you make me eat another bite,” he replied.
Laughing at Simon’s reaction, Adrien excused himself. The others pushed back their ch
airs and sipped at the coffee that Juliana had made. There was a knock on the window and Margaret pushed it open further before swinging her legs in and greeting everyone. She declined food, having lunched with her family, but accepted a cup of coffee and announced that she had the afternoon off.
“Nothing doing up the hill today,” she said, dropping sugar into her cup. “Jack is doing the books, so I thought I’d see if anything exciting was going on here.”
“What are you doing this afternoon, Alistair?” asked Damaris.
“I thought I’d go up to the Black farm,” he said.
He did not have to say anything more. They all looked sympathetic.
“Rather you than me,” murmured Jamie. “Mrs Black’s a nice old stick, but Jago…!”
“What about you?” Alistair asked, ignoring Jamie’s prognostications. “Something exciting for Margaret for her free afternoon?”
They sat for a moment in silence, looking at each other. Then Jamie brightened up.
“Let’s go and try to get the boat ready,” he said. “Then she’ll be ready the next time the weather is good.”
“That’s not half a bad idea, Jamie. Mags has fixed the alternator, haven’t you?” asked his sister.
Margaret nodded, her eyes gleaming.
“I have, and it’s ready to go back in,” she said. “Jack took it down for me the other day on the cart. Didn’t fancy lugging it back by hand; it was hard enough to get back to the house.”
“I’ll get some food from the kitchen,” offered Damaris. “We can have tea down at the boathouse.”
With that decided, they hurried to finish their coffee, and half an hour later saw them skirting the garden wall. Once they were out of its protection, the wind blew harder. Margaret and Jamie vanished on ahead, chasing like puppies along the path, trying to catch Damaris, who was doing her best impression of fleet-footed Iris despite the pack on her back that contained a picnic tea. Juliana shoved her hands into her pockets.
“Aren’t you cold at all, Simon?” she asked, looking over at him.
He looked rather surprised, as if he had not noticed the weather.
“The wind is chilly and you’re not wearing much,” she said.
The Dead Woman Who Lived Page 33