by Lucy Gillen
"Of course, George." She was as solemn as she knew
how. "There's no rush about anything at all, no rush, George."
"Oh, I don't know," Fay disagreed, ignoring the pained look her brother gave her. "I think marriage will do George good, and an autumn wedding would be rather nice. We could go and look for wedding dresses in that little shop in Pepper Street, Kim — they had some lovely ones, do you remember?" Kim nodded, her eyes shining mischief, while George merely sat looking rather dejected and not a bit like a prospective bridegroom at all.
It was a day or two, in fact, before George seemed to recover from the shock, and Kim began to feel sorry for him. It was, she thought, rather a drastic form of revenge for someone like George, and perhaps she and Fay had gone a little too far. When she said as much to Fay, however, Fay laughed at her worry.
"Oh, don't worry about it," she assured her. "I know George, he'll be thinking of ways of getting out of it already. He'll never tread the path to the altar, not my dear brother, although in truth I wish he would. No — I'm only interested to see how long he lets it go on and how he manages to get out of it."
"I'm not exactly worried," Kim demurred, "but I'm wondering if we shouldn't — well, let him know now that it was just to teach him a lesson."
Fay shook her head firmly. "I shouldn't," she advised. "Let him suffer a bit longer. It's time somebody put George firmly in his place, he's far too fond of courting a girl and then laughing it off as if it's all just a game."
"It is to George," Kim declared, "and it has to be played by George's rules too, I imagine, although he's very gallant about it."
That much was true, Kim thought, and wondered what would happen if George should prove gallant enough to
go on with the idea rather than let his own reluctance be known. It was just the kind of over-dramatic, impulsive gesture George would make, and Kim frowned over the prospect of it.
Kim had seen little of James Fleming since the day of the race and she suspected he might be avoiding her deliberately, probably influenced by Eve Mellors, though why he should have been so forgiving in the first instance and then apparently changed his mind, she could not imagine.
She had seen and talked to the children, who seemed none the worse for their adventure; indeed Lee seemed positively proud of his own part in it and was always mentioning that he had been the centre of attraction. Kim would have liked to take them out again, but she dared not mention the idea, especially since Eve Mellors had been so sure she would not be allowed to.
There were a lot of blackberries about now that September was well on and the children, she thought, would have enjoyed picking them as she had done as a child. She mentioned blackberry and apple pie to Aunt Bess and her aunt had been enthusiastic, although she demurred at the lateness of the hour when she suggested going there and then.
It wanted only about half an hour to sunset, but Kim thought she had plenty of time to get as many as she wanted and she knew the cliff path quite well by now, well enough to find her way down again in the dusk.
It had been a lovely day and the sun sat low in the sky as she walked up on to the cliff-top. At this time of the day, she thought, there was an air almost of unreality about the sea and the sky that intrigued her, and she loved it.
As she anticipated, there were hundreds of blackberries, ripe and succulent on the brambles that lay back from the
path, and Kim's mouth watered at the prospect of them combined with apples from Aunt Bess's trees, made into a delicious pie.
She had brought a small basket with her and she left the path just at the top of the ascent, walking over the cool, springy turf already patched with the long shadows of evening as the sun sank lower. She had perhaps left it a little late, as Aunt Bess had said, but it would take very little time to fill her basket and it was so beautifully quiet and peaceful up here that it was worth the walk for that alone.
Very few people came this far from the path, especially this late in the year, and the berries were untouched, in great black clusters just waiting to be gathered. She had come prepared for a harvest and she was not disappointed. Very little effort was needed to reach them and she had no need to reach far to get all she wanted without getting scratched.
She had to admit that it was sheer greed that made her determined to have the huge cluster that sat invitingly right in the centre of the bush. As usual, the best were the most difficult to attain, but she was determined to reach them and she stretched as far as her arm would stretch only to find them still a taunting couple of inches out of reach. Stubbornly refusing to accept defeat, she inveigled her way in among the scratchy brambles and tried again, only another fraction of an inch and she could manage it.
She lifted her weight from one foot to the other, and pushed her left foot still further into the tangle of briar. A second later she grabbed frantically at the vicious arms of the bush and screamed involuntarily when her foot gave way under her, twisting painfully as she landed hard and inelegantly on the ground, too stunned for the moment to move or even try to.
Her foot was still firmly wedged into a hole, a hole that
had formerly been hidden by the long, dry grass and the lower briars, just waiting to trap the unwary. Not only was she held firmly by the captive foot, but releasing it meant getting scratched still more by the tangle of briar that surrounded the hole. A rabbit, at some time or other, had presumably thought it an excellent place for a home, safe from disturbance and, much as Kim liked animals, her opinion of rabbits at that moment was far from complimentary.
Her ankle ached .abominably and thorns had torn her tights and scratched her legs, but she could not sit there feeling sorry for herself, so she leaned forward and tried to free herself. More scratches ensued as she struggled to reach he left foot from her seat on the ground, and it was not until she tried to pull it free that she realised it might be worse hurt than she had anticipated. It throbbed with a dull ache at the moment and it had swelled to an ominous size, getting worse even as she sat and gazed at it anxiously.
Her first effort to stand up sent her staggering against the briar and brought another involuntary cry from her as she sank back on to the turf again, biting her lips at the pain. For a moment she sat there, feeling more vulnerable and helpless than she had ever done in her life, nursing the injured ankle and wondering desperately how she was going to walk home when she could not even get to her feet.
It was already dusk and the wind was blowing cold off the sea, uncannily quiet now that the seagulls had gone for the night, with only the swish and sigh of the sea on the rocks below to keep her company. Kim shivered, not so much at the cold wind, but at the prospect before her if she could not manage to walk properly. If it was possible to get that far, the most practical thing to do would be to get as far as Linwood and get George to take her the rest of the way home in his car, but getting down the steep slope from the
cliff would present most of her problems.
She was already feeling extremely sorry for herself when she tried to get up again and once more the vicious arms of the bramble seemed to reach out for her. Her cry this time was as much exasperation as pain, but she at least managed to stay on her feet. To be more exact it was only one foot, for her left ankle was much too painful to bear her weight.
As she stood there, balancing rather precariously on one foot and wondering how on earth she was going to get down the slope to the house, she heard someone coming. Not that anyone made much noise on the sandy path up from the sea wall, but there was a distinct sound of footsteps occasionally striking a small pebble or a piece of rock and she held her breath for a moment, uncertain whether she wanted to be found or not. It would depend who the walker turned out to be whether she made her presence known, and she dropped down on to the turf once more to be less conspicuous.
It could mean rescue or it could be some undesirable character who would only make her predicament worse, although in Woodsea it was unlikely. Until she had some way of knowin
g, however, she sat small and silent in the shadow of the bramble, trying to see in the almost dark as the sun sank rapidly lower.
"Hello!" The sound of the voice made her gasp audibly and put a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide and uncertain. It was definitely familiar, she thought, although she was uncertain of its identity as yet, so she waited cautiously. "Hello, is anyone there?"
It was the slight hint of impatience in the question that identified the caller and Kim thought she saw a way out of her predicament, although she would rather it had been anyone else who had found her than James Fleming.
"Over here!" she called, and felt his hesitation like a
physical thing as he in turn recognised her. "Behind the brambles," she added for his guidance.
"Kim?" He had not moved, she felt sure of that, and for one crazy minute she wondered if he would leave her there, having identified her.
"Yes, over here."
Guided by her answer, he left the path and came across the sound-deadening turf and round the concealing briars, peering down at her, crouched gnome-like by the bush. "Kim, are you all right?" She found his evident concern gratifying.
"I — I think so," she told him.
"I heard you yell out, or I thought I heard someone yell out and I thought —" He hesitated. "Heaven knows what I thought," he added, obviously relieved to find she could answer. "What on earth are you doing, for heaven's sake?"
"At the moment I'm sitting on the ground nursing a sprained ankle," she informed him as matter-of-factly as she could manage.
He hesitated only a second longer, then he was one knee beside her and she could see he was wearing evening dress, although the incongruity of it did not strike her for the moment. "Is it bad?" He could just see the injured limb stretched out, in front of her and, before she could answer, strong exploratory fingers probed the swelling and he whistled softly. "It feels as big as a house," he told her. "What happened?"
"I found a rabbit hole," she explained briefly. She had no desire or intention of going into details here and now, though she sensed he expected her to.
"You would." His resignation made her flush resentment, for he sounded just as if he was talking to one of the children and it was a habit she was growing increasingly tired of. "Come on," he added in the same rather patient tone,
"we'd better get you home."
"I can manage if I can only get to the bottom of the slope," she informed him, making light of her position. "George will run me home then."
"You're not seriously suggesting that you try to walk down there, are you?" he asked.
"I don't see why not," Kim retorted. "I'm not completely helpless, you know, and if you help me —"
"An ankle like that shouldn't be walked on," he told her firmly, "not on any account. For goodness' sake be sensible, Kim, you'd break your neck as well."
"And for goodness' sake," she echoed, her exasperation obvious, "stop talking to me as if I was one of the children!"
She heard the soft, deep chuckle and flushed again. "I apologise, Miss Anders," he told her with mock humility. A large; dazzlingly white handkerchief was pulled from his breast pocket and deftly folded before being tied round her ankle. "That'll help a bit until we can bandage you properly," he declared.
"I don't need —" she began, automatically prepared to argue with him.
"And for heaven's sake don't start one of your arguments," he interrupted. "What on earth are you doing up here in the dark anyway?"
"I was picking blackberries," Kim replied shortly, "and now I suppose I've scattered them far and wide, after all my efforts."
"Well, if you think I'm going to scrabble around on my hands and knees after them, you can think again," he informed her, and shook his head. "I don't know, it takes a crazy little creature like you to come blackberrying in the dark, doesn't it?"
"I like blackberries," she told him, "and for your information, I was here well before it got dark." She glanced
at his dress, really noticing it for the first time. "I might ask what you're doing prowling about on the cliffs in evening dress, if it comes to that," she added.
He sighed, that air of patient resignation in evidence again as he prepared to explain. " A.I am not prowling, Miss Suspicious. I told you I heard someone scream or cry out and, being an upright and honest citizen, I came to see if someone was in trouble, and B. I'm in a dinner suit because I'm supposed to be taking Eve to theatre and dinner in Dimsea."
"Oh, I see." She could guess what Eve Mellors would say if she could see him now.
"I'm sure you do," he told her. "Now I think the best thing I can do is to take you down to Linwood and let Eve know I'll be a bit late, then run you home myself."
"George can —" Kim began, and again he interrupted her.
"George can't," he told her. "He and Fay went into Paxeter and they aren't back yet, at least they weren't five minutes ago."
"I can manage," Kim insisted, hating the idea of being indebted to him or in any way dependent on him. "If you'll just help me down the slope I'll be O.K."
He sighed again, deeply. "Heaven save me from stubborn females !" he prayed. "Come on, you obstinate little wretch."
Kim would have objected to the way he spoke, but before she could utter a word he had scooped her up into his arms and was striding across the turf with her, so that the only sound she made was a faint protesting squeak as she instinctively put an arm round his neck.
He was as surefooted on the darkness of the steep path as only a native could be, and Kim found herself hanging on to him more for the comfort of holding on to someone
than because she was afraid of falling.
She wondered again, as they went down the slope, what Eve Mellors would have to say when he arrived for his date with her, carrying Kim in his arms, and for a moment the idea intrigued her so much she smiled to herself in the darkness.
"I could get home now," she ventured, as they reached the foot of the path.
"Nonsense ! " The answer was brief and explicit and he went on up the driveway of Linwood with every intention of doing as he had suggested.
"I'm only thinking of you," she told him meekly, and she could now see him sufficiently well in the light from the porch lamp to judge his expression. It had obviously not occurred to him that Eve might take exception to the situation and his puzzlement was genuine, she thought.
"Oh?" he might even have been slightly suspicious. "Why should you be so suddenly concerned about me? I could hardly leave you up there in this state, could I?"
"Eve — Miss Mellors might not like it," she suggested, and saw him frown.
"Why?"
"Why ?" She could scarcely believe he did not realise what Eve's reaction would be. "Well — I wouldn't like a man arriving for a date with me, carrying a strange girl in his arms."
His laughter was unexpected and the light grey eyes looked wicked in the yellow light, now overhead. "You could be right," he allowed, but seemed completely unconcerned about it.
The front door, as usual at Linwood, was unfastened and a slight push opened it wide. "Eve!" He called out as he walked into the hall, and almost immediately the sitting-room door opened and Eve Mellors came out.
The eager, welcoming smile she wore disappeared when she saw he was not alone, and hardened rapidly when she identified Kim. "What on earth —" she began, but James cut her short, almost as if he had not heard her.
"Kim's had an accident," he told her shortly. "She's sprained an ankle and it looks quite bad, so I'm taking her home first, Eve. Sorry we shall be a bit late, but it can't be helped."
"We shall miss the first act," Eve complained, glaring at Kim as if she suspected deliberate sabotage.
"Darling, it can't be helped." He sounded as if he held his patience with difficulty. "You just be a dear, patient girl and wait for me. I won't be long, I promise."
He spoke with the complete confidence of a man who has no doubt he will have his own way, and Kim marvelled at the way Eve Mellors let
him get away with it. She would not let it pass, however, without first questioning the authenticity of the accident.
"I thought I heard your car just now," she told James. "You didn't run Miss Anders down, did you?'
"No, of course not." He evidently saw explanation as the quickest way to release and he put Kim down in one of the armchairs while he spoke. "You did hear my car," he agreed. "I arrived about ten minutes ago, it was then I thought I heard someone calling out from up on the cliff, and as it happened it was. It must have been Kim yelling when she hurt herself, although I wasn't to know that. It's as well I went to investigate or she'd probably have been up there all night. She stuck her foot in a rabbit hole, and you can see the result."
"I see. Is it very bad?" It was unlikely to be concern that prompted the question, Kim thought, it must have been suspicion.
"Well, see for yourself," James told her, indicating the
swollen foot. "It needs attention, and since George isn't here to run her home and play the gallant, it'll have to be me."
"You needn't bother," Kim declared, objecting to being talked about as if she wasn't there at all. "I've told you I can manage."
"And I've told you not to talk nonsense," he retorted, lifting her into his arms again. "Come on, before we waste the whole evening arguing." He strode to the door, carrying her as easily as if she was a child. "Home, James," he added facetiously, and Kim could not help the giggle that escaped her at the appropriate words, though she was fully aware of the black frown that followed them as she was carried through the door.
When they arrived at Summer House and found it in darkness, Kim frowned. "That's odd," she murmured, "they must be in."
James stood her on the step, propped on one leg against the wall of the porch, and used her key to open the front door, calling out before he went in, but receiving no reply. "No one here," he told her as he switched on the hall light, "the birds have flown."