by Rebecca Shaw
No, he wouldn’t wander down that path, no, not today. It was ridiculous that in this day and age he and Megan had never slept together. If Dan knew that, he’d be so scornful.
He heard her car pulling up outside, and because of his thoughts he was suddenly shy of meeting her. He wiped his sweating palms on his trouser legs and listened for her voice. “Hi, Rhodri! It’s me.”
Rhodri stood beside the dining table, awkward, speechless almost, all his problems about her foremost in his mind.
The door from the little hall flew open and there she stood, glowing with health and vitality. What a lucky man he was! She swept into his arms and kissed him heartily.
“Darling!”
Rhodri showered her with kisses instead of speaking, gripping hold of her.
“Darling! Let me go!”
“Sorry.”
“That’s all right.”
“Food’s almost ready; come in the kitchen with me while I serve.”
“Right, Rhodri bach.” Megan teased him by tidying his hair. She knew he didn’t like her to do that, but something had to happen to break his dour mood. He relaxed against her, making strange moaning noises as though his feelings were getting the better of him.
“Rhodri! I smell burning.”
They both rushed into the kitchen to find the soup just beginning to catch on the bottom of the pan.
“Hell!”
Megan found a fresh saucepan and tipped the soup into it. She took a clean spoon and dipped it in the soup and tasted it. “Salt! It needs a speck of salt and it’ll be fine.”
Rhodri watched her at his cooker, in his kitchen, looking as though she lived there. Watched her hands, those hands she kept looking so fineboned and almost poetic in their movements despite the hard farmwork she did; with those hands, Megan should have been an artist or a musician. He stopped her switching on the gas under the soup by taking her hand to his mouth and kissing it. He turned it over and examined each of her slim fingers in turn, feeling their softness, luxuriating in the pressure of her hand on his as he caressed the scoop of her flesh at the base of her thumb.
He cleared his throat. “Think we’d better eat.”
“It’s that strict nonconformist upbringing you had that holds you back, isn’t it?”
“Holds me back?”
“From doing what we both want. I’m almost panting here, waiting for you to make the first move!”
“My da would kill me if he knew I was in danger of being seduced by someone I wasn’t married to.” His voice trembled a little.
“Your da wouldn’t understand the pressures we’re under. We’re both quite old enough to do exactly what we want.”
“But should we? And there’s your da too. And he’s not two hundred miles away.”
“Rhodri, my darling…”
“I need you tonight more than ever.” They stood looking out of the window across the valley, side by side, arms around each other’s waists, squeezed tight.
To break the deadlock, Megan turned on the cold tap and flicked water at him. “Better cool you down, then.”
“And you!” Rhodri splashed water at her. Megan released him and, cupping both hands to collect the water, threw it at him. Rhodri picked up a glass from the draining board, filled it and made to throw it at her, Megan twisted out of the way too late, and the water caught her full on her face.
“Right! This is full-scale war!” She took a plastic jug, began filling it with water while Rhodri desperately tried to force her away from the tap. But he hadn’t bargained for how tough she was. She half filled the jug and as he set off out of the kitchen, bent on escape, she aimed and caught him on the neck and shoulders.
“You’ve wet my best sweater!” Rhodri turned back, pinioned her arms behind her, leaned her against the edge of the sink and kissed her. “You’re right, Megan, we are old enough.”
“THIS making-love business has made me disgustingly hungry.” Megan spooned her soup in as fast as she could. “It was your first time?”
Rhodri flushed bright red. “No. But my first real time, and it meant more to me than I could ever find the words to say.” He was managing to look at her by the time he added, “Thank you.”
“Less of the thank you, Rhodri bach. We’re equal partners in this enterprise.” Her dark eyes viewed him from above the rim of her spoon. “In fact, after I’ve eaten, I could be prevailed on for an encore.”
Rhodri emptied his soup bowl. “It’s the risk.”
His word of caution stopped her in her tracks.
“I know.”
“It is a risk. What would your da say if…”
“Damn and blast him! He ruins my life at every turn. I should have been born a boy.” Megan burst into tears. Even hugging his arms around her did no good.
“Stop it! Stop it! You’ll have me crying next. Please, Megan. Stop crying. I’m very glad you’re not a boy. I really wouldn’t fancy you if you were.”
Megan had to laugh. “I’ve a good mind to make love again just to spite him.”
Rhodri let go of her, saying, “Can you go on the pill? Or something. Or I’ll do something, shall I?”
“I shall, from tomorrow. See the doctor, and then we can do what we like. Yes. Definitely. Yes. I will. But tonight I’m finishing my meal; that salad looks too good to forgo, and after that I shall make love to you like there’s no tomorrow.”
“Toffee ice cream to finish?”
“We’ll eat that in bed.” Though slightly shocked by her unsuspected decadence, Rhodri agreed and decided this newly released Megan was a revelation in his sheltered life.
“IT looks to me as if the cat has been at the cream, Rhodri. You’re looking in fine fettle, this morning.” Dan took a closer look. “I even think you might have…”
“Dan! Here’s your list.” Kate handed it to him with a slight shake of her head. She knew exactly what he meant. Rhodri had a spring in his step and half a smile on his lips this morning, but she didn’t want him upset, because she had to work with him all day. “First call Tattersall’s. If you could remind him he owes us, three months now.”
“Do my best. What does he want me for?”
“He rang last night and left a message on the answering machine asking you to call this morning. Didn’t say why.”
“Oh, I see. That’s odd of him. Not got your results yet? No? Right, I’ll be off, then.” Dan gave a thumbs up and a wink to Rhodri but got no response. Tattersall’s. Poor Nuala. He hadn’t thought about her since he’d delivered Sybil’s little kid that day. He checked his list while he waited at the traffic lights, but it didn’t say what he was called out for.
Tattersall’s Cop was as smart as ever. Grass well clipped. Bedding plants flourishing, buildings as trim as usual, nothing to warn him of what he would have to face when he did find Callum. He wasn’t around the farm buildings, which were oddly silent—almost unnervingly silent. Not even Callum’s two dogs were there to give him their rapturous greetings. So Dan went to the farmhouse door, knocked and opened it. “Hello, it’s Dan here. Where are you, Callum?”
Tentatively he opened the kitchen door, but Callum wasn’t there. Whistling loudly to make sure people knew someone was in the house, he began to wander about the downstairs of the house, calling upstairs, “Callum! It’s Dan. You asked me to come.” Finally he braced himself to knock and then open the door of the room where Callum had laid Sybil’s kid on the bed beside Nuala, and she’d named her Carmel. He pushed it open slowly saying, “It’s me. Dan. Callum! Are you there?”
His heart juddered.
Then raced.
Throat tightened.
Breathing stopped.
He swiftly closed the door behind him and stood against it, his heart pounding as though he’d climbed a mountain at reckless speed.
He drew breath with a sound like a shriek.
She couldn’t be, could she? With him lying there?
Holding her.
When his pounding heart had slowed
and he’d calmed his spinning mind, he slowly opened the door again.
There was the smell of sickness in the air. Such stillness too. Surely she was dead. Very cautiously he walked toward the bed.
“Callum? Callum?”
Nuala’s eyes were wide open, but she was dead to this world.
And Callum? He was lying on his side, facing Nuala, an arm under her shoulders holding her close.
Dan touched his shoulder and shook it slightly. “Callum?” No response. “Callum?” He pressed his fingers to just below Callum’s jawline and felt for a pulse. And there was none. Vomit began rising in his throat, and Dan fled, overwhelmed with horror.
WHEN he’d finished heaving up his breakfast in the drain outside the back door, Dan wiped his mouth and stood, ashen-faced, deciding what to do. Doctor? Police? Doctor. He’d know what to do. He had the Health Center’s number on his mobile because of Rose and Jonathan, so he rang and explained and they promised a doctor immediately. To still his bursting heart, Dan decided to do something positive and went to feed the animals. He found the two rescue ponies had gone, as well as the lame donkey they’d taken in from the sanctuary, the three cows, two dogs, and the half a dozen chickens Nuala had kept for the house. So he’d planned it all, except she had died before he’d found a home for the pygmy goats. He could hear them tap tapping about in their stable.
He opened up the top half of the door to see how they all were. There was an instant clamor and all except one were on their hind legs, pawing at the door. The one that wasn’t was lying at the back of the stable, quite still. In the gloom he thought it might be Cassandra, Nuala’s favorite. When Dan had finally pried the door open without letting any of them escape, he found that Cassandra had died while attempting to give birth.
He lifted her dead body out onto the cobbles, put feed in the trough to keep the others going, filled their water bucket, and then firmly shut the lower half of the door behind him, clipping back the top half to let in air and light.
When the doctor came, Dan explained the circumstances and left him to go in by himself. Dan stood in the kitchen looking out of the window, waiting…knowing what he was waiting for.
The doctor came in and went to the sink to wash his hands. “Both dead. A blessing for Nuala; there was nothing left of her but a beating heart. As for Callum…He’s left a note for Dan. That’s you, isn’t it?”
From his pocket he took out an envelope and then busied himself at the kitchen table filling in forms. Dan had assumed it would be a few brief words but no, Callum had written a letter, and with it a long list of whom to get in touch with, whom to inform, where the furniture had to go, and the addresses and telephone numbers of relatives who needed to know. Directions, also, about their joint funeral, which church, which hymns.
The letter was almost Dan’s undoing. It read:
Dear Dan,
We shall both be together in heaven when you read this. My darling Nuala fell asleep forever in my arms at teatime today. That strong dear heart of hers could fight no longer and she had already lost the will to suffer anymore. I’m writing this at the kitchen table where she and I planned our useless money-making schemes. Without her, I have no fight left in me.
We may not have had success in business, but where it really matters we did. She and I were childhood sweethearts, married at seventeen and never had a bad day ever after. Nuala could see the funny side of anything at all and we spent more time laughing, even when she was so ill, than any other couple in Christendom.
If you want to tell anyone what happiness is, think of us. We had it in spades.
Thanks for all you’ve done for us, and your kindness in not flinching when you talked to Nuala. She valued that. Thank Rose, too, for bringing the baby. He gave Nuala such joy.
Yours sincerely,
Callum and Nuala Tattersall
Dan folded the letter. Before he read his instructions he asked the doctor how Callum had died.
“Overdose of Nuala’s painkillers, I suspect. There’s hardly any left in the bottle. He certainly meant business. I gave him a prescription only yesterday. I’ll have to inform the police, you understand.”
The phone rang, so Dan went to answer it. “Tattersall’s.”
“Phil Parsons here. That isn’t Callum, is it?”
“No. It’s Dan Brown.”
“Something wrong?”
“Yes, well…bad news, I’m afraid. I’ve just found both Nuala and Callum. They’re both…dead.”
There was a long silence from the other end of the phone. “But I spoke to him only yesterday—afternoon, it was. What the blazes has happened?”
“Can I tell you some other time?”
“What a sad business. Nuala, yes, but Callum…I was ringing to say I’m coming to collect his pygmy goats. He’s sold the others to a goat farm, but they didn’t want the pygmy ones ’cause commercially they’re not much good; so I said I’d have them for Blossom and Hamish. I paid him a few days ago, but we’ve been getting the shelter ready for ’em. Hamish and me, shall we come?”
“Right now, you mean?”
“Yes. Straightaway.”
“Yes, I’ve got to wait for the police, so come, yes.”
“If you’d rather I didn’t…”
“Well, Phil, someone has to feed them, so why not; and if you’ve paid for them…”
“Right. We’re on our way.”
Phil must have disconnected because Dan was left standing looking at his receiver. Still severely distressed by the morning’s events, thoughts tumbled through his head with frantic rapidity. Rose, here with Jonathan? Phil taking on the goats. Callum killing himself for love. Rose had never said she’d been. Suicide. He’d miss Callum. Poor Nuala. I wonder why Rose came?
SHE told him at lunchtime. It was his half day and he’d gone home, glad his ghastly working day was at an end.
“Here, hold your son and heir and get up his wind while I make lunch. I can see you’re upset. Tell me.” Rose carefully handed Jonathan to him, and waited.
“You didn’t tell me you’d been to see Nuala.”
“Ah! Yes. I met Callum in the supermarket and we talked, so I went. Is it Nuala?”
“Yes. Rose, she’s died. But so too has Callum.”
Rose drew in a long breath. “But how? He wasn’t ill. He didn’t…kill himself?”
“I’m afraid he did and I found them when I went in response to a message he’d left on the answering machine last night.”
Rose flung her arms about Dan, and he drew comfort from her sympathy. “Oh, darling, how dreadful.”
“Once I’d got over the shock, they looked so peaceful together. The ultimate in happiness. You’d never met Callum; how did he know it was you?”
“Took a look at Jonathan and realized he must be yours, and then he asked me if I was your wife, just to make sure.”
Dan peered at the baby’s face in amazement. “My God!”
“So I went.”
“He thanked you for that in his suicide note. Said it gave Nuala great joy to see the baby. I’ll have to spend the afternoon ringing all the people on Callum’s list. Not exactly a pleasant occupation. But it’s the least I can do. He never got on well with the other farmers around here. They all thought him feckless. One scheme after another, but a great chap.” Dan sighed, adjusted his hold of Jonathan while he wiped his mouth of milk. “Part of life’s rich pattern. Must put it all behind us.”
Rose gripped his shoulder and smiled to herself. Knowing he couldn’t put it all behind him as easily as that and understanding he was taking this attitude because of his concern for her, she answered, “Of course. Yes. Life goes on. Actually, tomorrow I’m having tea with Letty.”
“Letty? Colin’s Letty?”
“Who else? She’s not at all well. I think I’m going to persuade her to go to the doctor; she can’t go on like she is. And I upset her the last time I saw her and she cried, so I feel guilty.”
“She’s difficult to get on with
.”
“I know. That’s the challenge.”
Chapter
• 6 •
Rose arrived at exactly two forty-five, the time Letty had specified. Jonathan wasn’t exactly full of joy, and she had hoped the drive in the car would put him to sleep. Which it did, but the moment she tried to lift him out he woke, miserable and weepy.
Letty and Colin lived in a dream cottage. Roses around the door, thatch on the roof, lovely old red-brick walls with timbers exposed here and there. To Rose, with her American heritage, it seemed utterly, utterly splendid. Before she could knock on the door it had been opened by Letty, and she was standing beaming from ear to ear, welcoming the two of them in.
“Oh, Letty! What a wonderful house! It’s like a picture book. I’ve always longed for a house with roses around the door. You are so lucky.”
“Come in, Rose! It was derelict when we bought it, and it took hours of work with damp-proof courses and septic tanks and new floorboards and things. It must have been two years before it was really habitable.”
“Well, it was well worth it. If it’s not asking too much, may I look around before I leave? You know what we Americans are like about old houses.”
Letty visibly gathered herself before she agreed wholeheartedly that Rose could look around. It almost seemed to Rose that Letty found her request intrusive, so she thought to leave it for the moment.
“Can I put Jonathan down here? You haven’t got a dog or a cat, have you?”
“No, we haven’t and yes, of course you can. Isn’t he beautiful?” Letty bent to stroke Jonathan’s head. “So like Dan. I didn’t like Dan when he first came, you know; in fact, I insisted he be dismissed.”