'That's the diary Uncle Thor started to help Raine find her memory. We used to write lots of things in it, but nobody's bothered much lately.'
Stiff with shock, Raine remained poised outside the door hoping the boy's lapse would pass unnoticed. It was a vain hope.
'So Raine has lost her memory! That explains quite a lot,' Janice murmured, smooth .as cream. 'Tell me, did the loss occur before or after her arrival here?'
'Before.' Raine closed her eyes as Vulcan prattled on, happily unaware of the fact that his future happiness was at stake. 'At first, Simeon said she was a tramp looking for an easy place to lay her head—even Thor didn't believe her until Doctor Randall said he must let her stay. But everyone believes her now,' he confided happily, 'we all love her, even though we've only known her a few——‘
He stopped so abruptly that even without seeing him Raine sensed realization had struck. She suffered with him the sense of betrayal he must have been feeling, but could not condemn even for a moment the childish naïveté that had made the disclosure possible. .
'Yes, go on/ Britt insisted. 'A few weeks, were you about to say?'
'No, n… no!' Vulcan stumbled desperately, 'Raine's lived here for years and years
'Little liar!' Janice rapped. 'The truth is, she'd been here no more than a few weeks and the tale Thor spun about their being married simply isn't true! Am I right? Tell me, you wicked boy!'
Raine could bear it no longer. Gathering up her courage, she drew in a deep breath and stepped inside the room. Janice and Britt were threatening the cowering child whose riotous red hair was clashing starkly against his ashen, frightened face. Relief flared like a beacon when he saw her appear like an avenging angel to rescue him from his tormentors. Joyfully he ran to her, throwing his arms around her waist and burying his head deep in the folds of her skirt.
'I'm sorry, Raine, I'm sorry,' she heard him sob.
'It doesn't matter, darling,' she consoled, hugging him tight. 'It wasn't your fault.'
'No, indeed.' Britt sounded sarcastically amused. 'Whose idea was it to masquerade as man and wife, not yours, I bet, yet the blame lies uneasily on the shoulders of my puritanical brother?'
'We were equally to blame,' Raine admitted with dignity, 'and we'd do the same thing again if it meant keeping the boy out of your clutches.'
'No chance!' Britt laughed exultantly. 'The boy leaves with us, just as soon as we can complete our packing. Ask yourself,' he gloated, 'what would be the reaction of any magistrate called upon to judge our case? However broadminded, he wouldn't dare give custody of the child to a couple who are, to put it crudely, living in sin!'
'We are not!' In her agitation Raine relaxed her grip on Vulcan as she stepped forward to stress. 'Thor, at this very moment, is making arrangements for us to be married by special licence, so we'll be man and wife within a very few days.'
Britt's tips parted to reply, but Janice forestalled him with a drawl that was sibilant and deadly. 'But; my dear, wouldn't that be rather unwise? After all, if you really are suffering a loss of memory how can you be certain you're not already married?'
Raine stared up at the patch of damp on her bedroom ceiling. For hours she had lain motionless on her bed trying to overcome the effects of words that had dealt her a body blow. Janice's question hammered on the door of her mind. Was she married? Useless to argue that the answer was no simply because she wore no ring. Rings were easy to obtain and just as easy to discard. She groped for the rings Thor insisted she wore always, taking comfort from an inner sense that assured her they had a right to be there. But such assurance was not enough, she had to be certain before committing herself and Thor to a marriage that might turn out to be illegal!
Restlessly she swung her feet to the floor. Shadows were gathering behind heavy furniture and in the cavernous corners of her room, so Vulcan's suppertime must be imminent. She stole a glance out of the window and saw that storm clouds were marshalling over the moors and beneath them sheep were flocking together, bleating their nervous fear of elements they sensed were preparing to erupt. 'Thor, why don't you come!' she pleaded in a whisper, tracing with worried eyes the grey ribbon of road. She could not bear his absence, without his broad-shouldered support she felt adrift, rudderless, stormed by "worry. She loved him desperately, needed his warmth, his rugged strength and confidence. She also needed his love, but would somehow have to survive on bare approval.
Shaking off a sense of foreboding, she walked down the passageway to Vulcan's room. A glance around satisfied her that he was not inside, but as she was about to close the door some instinct impelled her to examine more closely the deserted room. A wardrobe door fell open at her touch, revealing more than usual disarray. Half-open drawers held underwear tossed into untidy heaps, as if hastily rifling hands had selected certain essential items, then rejected the rest.
Panic reared inside her. Fighting a desire to scream, she ran. out of the room, down the stairs, then out through the kitchen, making towards the stables. Simeon glanced up, startled, as she flew past him, then threw down his knife and followed her. She was leaning against Luci's empty stall when he caught her up. Utter dejection bowed her slim body as she turned to him with eyes dark with remorse. 'He's gone,' she choked, 'Vulcan's gone and he's taken Luci with him! Oh, why didn't I realize how upset he must have been…! I was so taken up with my own troubles I forgot he'd heard Britt threatening to take him away…"
Simeon was swift to react. 'Don't you fret, Miss Raine, we'll soon find him! I'll call the men together and form a search party, knowing Vulcan, he'll be heading towards the coast, he's seldom been inland and what friends he has are scattered round about the harbour."
'Of course!' she grasped eagerly at the straw of hope, 'he's bound to be heading in that direction!' Galvanised into action, she heaved down a saddle from the wall and stumbled into the adjoining stall. 'Inform Britt straight away, ask him to drive inland while you and the others search in the opposite direction! I'll travel across country on horseback—between us we're sure to find him!'
'But, Miss Raine, there's no need for you to take part, there's a storm brewing and being a stranger to these moors you're almost certain to lose your way.'
'Don't stand there arguing!' she snapped with such authority he automatically backed away. She was saddling up with frantic haste and as soon as the last girth had been tightened she led a startled mare outside and vaulted into the saddle.
'At least wait until I get you, a coat!' Simeon yelled after her as she ^cantered out of the yard, but his only answer, was a wildly waving arm, gesturing him to hurry.
As she galloped across the moors she called out Vulcan's name. There was barely half an hour of daylight left, already visibility was so bad that Danes' Dyke was no longer visible on the skyline and sheep were huddling together like grey ghosts, their startled bleating rising with sinister clarity upon the empty air. Anxiously, she scanned the bleak landscape, digging her heels into the mare's flanks each time she spotted movement on the horizon, only to glare bitter disappointment at innocently grazing sheep when she arrived there. Half a dozen times she was so tantalized, each time riding off in a different direction, Vulcan's name rasping from her throat, tormented by the knowledge that the boy's fear must be as quickly mounting as her own.
When rain began to fall, splashing spots large as coins upon her cotton blouse, she thought, for the first time, of taking her bearings. With panic-stricken eyes she searched for some familiar landmark that might guide her back to the road that slashed its way through the cold, rain-driven moor-f- land, but all she could see were towering pylons set_ amidst miles of scrub—scornful fingers poking derision at the glowering sky, scoffing to the elements: Do what you will to this tough, indestructible land!
Thunder roared. Lightning spat, venting its brilliance upon a stone-built shepherd's hut in the distance, and with a gasp of thankfulness Raine spurred on the mare in its direction. As if resenting her escape, the rain increased in volume so that she
was riding blindly through a sheet of water that lashed solid force against her slender body. She was bent double in the saddle by the time she reached her goal and slid exhausted to the ground. Praying the hut would not be locked, she thumbed the latch and stumbled inside when the door swung open.
'Raine!' The whimper was an answer from heaven.
'Vulcan I Darling'… !' A cowering bundle rose from a dark corner and hurtled into arms that grasped and refused to let go. Not that he wanted them to—Vulcan the brave, the prematurely mature, was frightened half out of his wits!
'Don't let them take me away,' he sobbed against her waist. 'I don't want to leave Luci and Danes' Dyke an" Uncle Thor and you. Please, Raine, please… !'
'And you!' With uplifted heart, she savoured the words, admittedly tagged On to the tail end of a list of precious possessions but unexpectedly heartening. Even in the midst of distress she found time to rejoice that one at least of the Vikings of Danes' Dyke had admitted his need of her.
She knelt to gather the sobbing child against her breast, running her fingers through his mop of fiery hair while she assured him fiercely, 'We'll never let you go, darling, I swear it! How could you even think such a. thing, your uncle would never allow it?'
His small frame stiffened and sobbing subsided to choked gasps while he considered her words. 'But… I belong to them! Mummy,’ he stumbled over the word, 'said that if I didn't do as she said Uncle Thor would be taken to jail. That's why I ran away, I thought that if they couldn't find me they might go away and they wouldn't be able to blame Uncle Thor 'cos he wouldn't know where I was either. I don't want him to be locked up!' his voice rose hysterically high, 'but I'd rather die than go with them!'
'Hush…' Anger churned inside of her as she rocked the unhappy child. For an age she ""comforted him with hugs and poured out assurances that whatever happened he would not be deprived either of his home or his uncle, and by the time sobs had ceased to rack his small frame the inside of the hut was pitch black and the sodden clothes sheathing her limbs felt icily clammy.
Luckily, Vulcan had taken refuge before the storm had begun so he was completely dry, but when an uncontrollable shiver jerked her limbs she urged through chattering teeth. 'Let's search the hut for kindling, we may be marooned here for hours, so if possible we must try to light a fire.'
With the resilience of the young, Vulcan's spirits recovered. 'I saw a candle earlier, and paper and sticks set in, the grate, so all we need are some matches.' Her shivering worsened as blindly they groped for the tiny items that had assumed to her the value of gold. Her stiff fingers could barely feel the outlines of a rough wooden chair placed in the centre of the hut, but a creeping numbness warned her to keep on the move so as to overcome an almost irresistible urge to give in to the lethargy that was weighting her limbs.
'I've found them!' Vulcan's triumphant cry caused her a sob of relief Raine thrust out her hand and in her eagerness dropped the precious box when he handed it over. Suppressing a cry of distress she dropped to her knees, scrabbling frantically on the floor and when, mercifully, her hand closed around the box she slowly and painfully extracted a match, scratched it along the igniting surface and felt enormously comforted by the resulting flame.
'Quickly, Raine, you'll burn your fingers!' Vulcan's warning shocked her into action. Carefully eager, she thrust match to paper and held her breath as flame licked a curling edge, ignited, then began devouring the kindling in the grate. 'Now the candle!' Vulcan thrust it into the flame and when the wick flared carried it carefully across to the chair.
'Raine, your clothes are soaking.' In the flickering candlelight Vulcan's wide eyes assessed her bedraggled state. Her thin blouse was plastering her body like a second skin and from the hem of her skirt water was dripping into a pool, around feet shod only in flat-soled sandals held on by thin straps.
She mustered a smile. 'Don't worry about me, I’ll soon dry out,' she assured him as cheerfully as she could, but even to her own ears her voice sounded far distant. To allay his anxiety she urged, 'Look into that cupboard, you may find us something to eat.'
There was a solitary can of soup, but no opener. After half an hour of abortive bashing and prising the can remained defiantly inviolate and lay mocking them from the floor where it had eventually been thrown in disgust. Controlling a surge of vexed tears, she consoled Vulcan, 'Never mind, dear, someone's sure to find us soon. Meanwhile, let's sleep the storm out, when we awake it will be morning and even if no one has come by then we'll be able to make our own way back home.'
On a rough blanket smelling of sheep, they stretched out on the floor in front of the fire, Raine's body sheltering the boy from draughts that were whistling under the badly fitting door. Occasionally, during the night, she manoeuvred an arm around the sleeping child so as to feed the fire with logs from a pile at the side of the fireplace. But in time the effort became too great. Hammers began pounding in her brain, icy numbness disappeared and was replaced by a heat that set her whole body afire. But worst of all were the fantasies that began spinning through her head, frightening, violent scenes in which she seemed to play a major part. She heard the sound of heavy footsteps, men shouting, then felt a hand grasping her head.
Suddenly everything became clear. She screamed, a long, loud echo of despair and lifted up her hands for protection, but before the expected blow could land a curtain of darkness descended and she escaped gladly into a pit of oblivion.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Several times Raine fought her way to the edge of the pit, only to slide, weak and spent, back into unconsciousness. An urgent voice racked with concern commanded her time after time to return, allowing her no peace until she renewed her feeble efforts to fight a selfish desire never to open her eyes again. She had no wish to resume a life of painful problems, the pit of darkness was preferable to the deep unhappiness she sensed a return to light would bring. But the voice left her no choice, continuously it harassed, cajoled and pleaded, determinedly transmitting through waves of darkness a message so urgent it became imprinted upon her subconscious mind. Out there someone needed her, needed her so badly that his once resonant voice had become reduced to a hoarse, agonized croak.
So she gathered her strength for one final effort and managed to reach the rim. Light almost blinded her as she forced heavy lashes apart to search out the owner of the voice to console him with a triumphant grin. Startled green eyes stared at her out of a haggard face made frightening by astubble of red beard. Fiery hair run through by frantic fingers spiked wildly about his head, and a tight, punished mouth that had forgotten how to smile parted to emit a long, shuddering sigh when her lips slowly framed a caricature of a smile.
Once reclaimed, her. recovery was sure. During the following days she became conscious of a nurse ministering to her needs, wiping a damp cloth across feverish cheeks and hands, easing her aching limbs into fresh nightclothes, then gradually introducing a bland diet, sips of nourishing soup, coddled eggs, fish and later even small spoonsful of blancmange.
Visitors were not allowed. Even a brave attempt to converse was discouraged by the nurse who told her firmly to lie quiet and concentrate on regaining her much depleted strength. When the day finally arrived, however, when Raine refused to be silenced, she smiled grudging approval and confirmed, 'Nothing much wrong with you now, my dear. When the doctor calls I'll ask if you -can be allowed out of bed for an hour—would you like that?'
'Oh, yes, please,' Raine whispered. I'm feeling fine and there's so much I want to know. How long have I been ill? Is Vulcan all right? And when can I speak to Thor?'
'It's just over a week since Doctor Kendall called me in to nurse you,’ the nurse smiled, then sobered. 'For the first few days it was doubtful whether or not you would pull through, but thanks to the doctor's skill and Captain Halden's determination, you did.' She uttered a short, admiring laugh. 'The captain commanded you to live! Minute by minute, hour by hour, he sat by your bedside urging you to fight, and eventually after
three days and nights of ceaseless urging he was rewarded by your response. .Doctor Kendall tried" to get him to rest— his eyes were red-rimmed with lack of sleep—but he refused to listen. When we did eventually persuade him he slept the clock round, twenty-four hours non-stop!'
'Poor Thor! Raine reflected sadly, 'I'm always such a trial to him.'
The nurse looked surprised. 'I wouldn't have said so, my dear, but then I suppose you know best…'
She did know, and during the days that followed, While her health gradually improved, she had many hours in which to ponder on the effect she had had upon his life and the relief he would feel when she told him she need no longer be regarded as his responsibility. But for some reason he seemed to be avoiding her. Vulcan had been allowed a short, supervised visit, so obviously her health could not be the reason behind his absence, but when she asked about his non-appearance the replies she received were evasive, as if those questioned were as puzzled as she by his strange behaviour.
Finally she could stand the suspense no longer and when Simeon appeared with a. tray of food to tempt her appetite she waved it away with the mutinous statement, 'I refuse to eat another bite until someone has supplied me with some answers! Tell me, are Janice and Britt still determined to take Vulcan away? And- what has happened to Thor—he isn't ill, is he?' She caught a pained breath. 'Is that why he hasn't been to see me?'
'Bless you, no!' Simeon shuffled awkwardly.
'He's as right as. rain, miss—except for his acting like a bear with a sore head, that is.'
She sank back against her cushions, colour seeping back into her cheeks. 'But Master Britt and his wife left long since,' Simeon continued heartily, hoping to erase her anxious frown. 'There was an almighty bust-up between them when the Skipper arrived back from York and was told you'd gone to search for Vulcan. I don't rightly know the ins and outs of it,' he scratched his head, 'but the Skipper didn't spare a minute in getting a search party organized and we were out best part of the night scouring the moors on horseback, finding our way by torchlight. The Skipper swore," he grinned, able now to regard with amusement the salty terms in which the words had been broached, 'that he'd flay the skin off any man who returned to Danes' Dyke before you and the boy had been found. And he meant it, too,' he chuckled grimly, 'although he should have known that not one man Jack of us would have come back without you anyway…'
The Girl at Danes' Dyke - Margaret Rome Page 13