On the Edge of Darkness

by Barbara Erskine

  ‘What does your mum want?’ Juliette turned to him, dancing at his side like an eager child.

  He shrugged and glanced heavenwards. ‘She’s worrying as usual. She’s got it into her head that I don’t really want to be a doctor. That I’m only saying I do to please Dad.’

  ‘And are you?’ She turned cornflower-blue eyes on him, squinting in the sunlight.

  He shrugged again. ‘Dunno. Maybe. I’ve got to be something.’

  ‘Don’t you care?’

  ‘I expect so. I don’t want to think about it yet. Dad is always so serious. He never lets up. You’d think he could find time to come down here with us for a week or so in the summer, wouldn’t you? But no, he’d rather be at home on his own. That’s how much he cares about us.’ He kicked viciously at a stone on the narrow sheep path through the mountain grass.

  ‘He’s very fond of you, Calum.’ She was serious for a moment, sensing the hurt behind his words. ‘That’s not why he doesn’t come. I expect he has to work so hard because he is a doctor. They don’t seem to have many holidays and days off. Our doctor in Hay is always there. I don’t think he ever goes away. I bet Uncle Adam would rather be here with you if he could.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Calum’s mouth turned down in a pout. ‘Then perhaps I don’t want to be a doctor. I don’t want to work all the time without ever having a day off. That’s no fun.’

  ‘No, it isn’t!’ She caught his hand. ‘Come on. Enough serious talk. Forget your father. Forget everything. I’ll race you to the nant over there and we’ll have our sandwiches out of the sun.’

  They had a favourite spot near a small pool where the nut-brown water lay deep at the foot of a cascade. The rocks near it were covered in sun-warmed moss and they sat there, dangling their feet in the water which was freezing cold. ‘Are you going to swim?’ Juliette turned to him as they stared down at their reflections.

  He nodded. ‘You?’

  She grinned. ‘The perfect way to work up an appetite.’ Under her jeans and shirt she was wearing a tiny blue nylon bra and matching pants, her slim figure a pale contrast to her tanned hands, arms and face. Calum smiled. ‘I like the bikini.’

  ‘It’s not!’

  ‘Well, near enough.’ He had had the foresight to wear swimming trunks under his own jeans. Cautiously he slid into the water, gasping at the coldness. ‘Come on in.’

  ‘You won’t splash me?’ She smiled conquettishly.

  ‘Only a little.’ He had his father’s eyes with their long dark lashes. ‘And only if you are longer than two minutes getting in!’ He struck out with one or two strokes across the small pool and his feet found the rock bottom almost at once. Balancing on the slippery weed he stood up and turned to face her. ‘I’m counting! One!’

  ‘No!’ She shrieked and put one toe in the water.

  ‘Two.’

  ‘It’s so cold!’

  ‘Three.’ He put his hand in the water and curved it into a scoop.

  ‘No, Calum, no! I’m coming!’ She held her breath and slid down the mossy rock. The coldness of the water took her breath away and she was gasping as she waded and then swam towards him.

  ‘Well done!’ His eyes were sparkling. ‘Did you know the water made your bra go all transparent?’

  She clapped her hands over her breasts. ‘Calum, you beast!’

  ‘Take it off. Go on. You might as well.’ He reached forward to flick a strand of her long hair off her shoulder. ‘Why not? No one is going to see.’

  ‘You will.’ Her indignation was only half serious.

  ‘I’ve seen you naked before.’

  ‘When?’ She was indignant.

  ‘Loads of times. When you were in the bath as a baby.’

  ‘We shared a bath, so I saw you too.’

  ‘In the sandpit behind the barn.’

  ‘I was only three.’

  ‘When I walked into the bathroom last summer and you were painting your toenails …’

  ‘All right, all right!’ She had blushed scarlet. ‘But I’m not taking it off now.’ She fell back onto the water and kicked her feet up and down, showering him with spray.

  ‘No!’ Laughing, he dived for her toes. ‘I could have it off you!’

  ‘You mustn’t.’

  Her voice rose to a shriek as she tried to find her feet and failed, going under. She rose choking and Calum stood up, concerned. ‘Are you all right? I’m sorry.’ He put his arm round her shoulders. As she coughed and spluttered his fingers strayed lightly to the fastening on her bra. By the time she realised what he was doing it was too late. With a shout of triumph he had snatched it away from her clutching arms and danced out of reach.

  For a moment her face registered dismay then slowly she began to laugh. She stretched her arms above her head, and arched her back thrusting her small, dripping breasts at him, then slowly she reached for her pants and began to edge them down. ‘Go on. If I do it, you must too.’

  ‘Me?’ For a moment he hesitated, aware of what the waist-high water concealed.

  ‘Go on.’ She was naked now, still laughing.

  In one movement he swept off his own pants and swinging them round his head he hurled them at the rocks and began to wade towards her, his eyes on hers. Gently he drew her to him and their bodies touched, their cold skin taking fire as their lips met. Without a word they waded to the bank and there he drew her down on the grass with him, his hands on her shoulders, then on her breasts, his lips everywhere as she caught him to her in return.

  On the far side of the pool the shadows stirred. The figure of a woman seemed to hover for a moment near the water, then it was gone.

  Half an hour later, they were sitting side by side on the shingle which skirted the pool. They were both cold, their skin pimpled from the chilled water and they pressed together for warmth, but neither wanted to go and fetch their clothes. Calum linked his arms around her body and buried his face in her straggly hair. His teeth were chattering. ‘That was fantastic.’

  She nodded. ‘I knew it would be.’

  ‘You knew?’ He drew back slightly so that he could see her face.

  ‘I’ve often thought about it. Haven’t you?’

  He gave a small laugh. ‘I suppose I have. Yes.’

  ‘You and me. It was meant to be. I always knew I would marry you.’

  He hugged her. ‘Me too.’ He was silent for a moment, gazing into the depth of the pool which was rippled now only by the trickle of water sliding down the black rocks from the open mountainside above them. ‘Except sometimes I think of you as my sister.’

  She giggled. ‘Incest. That makes it more wicked.’

  ‘And you like being wicked?’

  She threw herself back suddenly. ‘Do you have to ask?’ She put her hand over her eyes and gave a deep sigh of animal content. ‘We mustn’t tell the olds of course. It will have to be our secret until you’ve taken your exams. Can you wait until the holidays each time?’

  He stared down at her body. The pale skin was shivering, and her lips were going blue. Suddenly he laughed. ‘I can wait. But there won’t be a holiday if you get pneumonia and die. Come on. Let’s get dressed and run to get warm. Don’t forget there are weeks and weeks before the end of this holidays before we have to think of the next.’

  Jane glanced at her son as they strolled together down the orchard. He had already changed for the party and she eyed his slim tall figure in the clean jeans and white shirt with approval. Something had changed in him. He was more confident, more grown up than she had thought. ‘I don’t want to spoil the holidays by worrying for weeks.’ She suddenly felt nervous; at a disadvantage. ‘I just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes about the future and then we’ll forget it till we get home.’

  He was as tall as her now, she realised. In fact, perhaps half an inch taller.

  He had stopped beside her and she found he was holding her gaze, a faintly amused expression somewhere in his eyes. ‘It’s about your exams, Calum,’ she floundered on. ‘I
don’t want you to feel that your father is forcing you to choose something you don’t really want to do. He has always been so single-minded for you. I suspect sometimes he doesn’t realise what he is doing. He has such a strong perception of what he wants himself …’ She stopped as he put his arm round her shoulders.

  ‘Mummy, I shan’t let him railroad me into anything I don’t want.’ He gave her that beautiful smile which always made her go weak at the knees with love and protectiveness. ‘Give me a little credit for strength of character, will you? I’m choosing sciences because, at the moment, I do want to go into medicine. I don’t think I shall want to go into general practice like Dad. I think I’d like to do research, or specialise in something, but for the time being I am sure that science is what I want, all right? Now, forget it. Don’t worry. Have a lovely time with Liza for the summer and let Julie and me get out of your hair and explore the mountains and go to the parties she’s arranged, so that in September we can all get back to work refreshed!’ He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and turned away.

  She watched him lope back across the orchard and saw in the distance the bright flash of Juliette’s hair as she appeared from behind the house. She had been waiting for him and already Liza had the car engine running to drop them down the hill into town. Slowly she shook her head. He had handled her very well, really. She ought to be proud of him. So why was she still feeling so uneasy?

  With a sigh Adam shut his notebooks and his diary and sat back in his leather-upholstered chair. His study was feeling stuffy and rather dusty. It was two weeks since Jane and Calum had gone and his first guilty euphoria at having the house to himself had worn off to be replaced by a sense of ennui which was very unlike him. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the clean, meticulously-positioned blotter and rested his forehead on his fingertips, gently massaging his temples.

  Tucked into the top drawer of his desk was a letter from his father. Thomas Craig wrote only once a year, on Adam’s birthday, enclosing always a ten shilling note ‘to buy himself something’, an incongruous present, Adam always thought with a wry shake of the head, from one reasonably well off adult man to another, who was now, let’s face it, over forty – just. It did however keep the space between them impersonal and distanced as ever. Thomas’s present for his grandson was the same. Ten shillings on every birthday. Nothing at Christmas.

  The arrival of a letter this morning, out of sequence, was a shock. For the whole day Adam had carried it around in his pocket, not wanting to open it, knowing already in some part of himself what it would say. Then this evening, before he sat down to bring his records up to date, as he did meticulously every evening, he had pulled the white envelope out of his pocket and stared at it. His father’s handwriting, in its accustomed blue ink, was as firm as ever but the contents were as he suspected, indicative of a weakening.

  I thought it best to tell you the news as soon as I knew myself. I have a cancer which is not worth the operation. There is no need for you or Jane to bother yourselves with me. My affairs are in order, my will, of which you are the sole beneficiary, is lodged with James and Donaldson in Perth. God bless you, my son, and your wife, and Calum.

  Yr affectionate father, Thomas Craig.

  Adam bit his lip. He wasn’t sure how he felt. He read the letter twice, then put it in the drawer, turning the small key but leaving it as always in the lock, and went back to his work. It was two hours later that he had closed his books and sat back to think. Should he go to Scotland? His mind wouldn’t register. His father didn’t say what kind of cancer, how far advanced, what he intended to do for his care, whether he was going to remain at the manse, whether he was going to retire. There was so much unsaid in the letter! He sighed angrily and then caught himself sternly. He was angry with his father for being ill. For being about to die. For making a plea, however inadvertently, for Adam’s attention, and that, in Adam’s eyes, made him every bit as cold a fish as his father had been to him. He found himself wishing suddenly that Jane were there. She would know what to do. She would put her arms round him and hug him in that warm motherly way she had, and make him feel cared for and safe and strong. Strong enough to deal with anything the world threw at him, even his father.

  With another sigh he leaned across the desk and was drawing the telephone towards him when he heard the small scratch at the window. He put down the receiver and swivelled his chair to face the garden with a smile. ‘There you are, puss. I thought you’d deserted me.’ Levering himself to his feet he walked across to the French doors and unlocked them. The tabby cat trotted in past him, brushing against his legs as it did so and jumped on a chair. He smiled. ‘So, puss. Where have you been?’ It usually came when Jane was away. It seemed to sense her hostility and never appeared when she was there. He had asked tentatively several times during their marriage whether they could keep a cat or a dog – he still remembered with wistful love the puppy he had had for such a short time as a boy, which Jeannie had taken in, but Jane had shaken her head.

  He stooped and touched the cat’s head gently. It looked up at him and then, standing on its back legs it pawed his chest, rubbing its head under his chin. He smiled and scooped it into his arms. ‘So, sweetheart, what am I going to do about my old father, you tell me that. Should I go up to Pittenross?’ He carried it back to the window and stood staring out across the lawn. The cat stiffened. It appeared to be listening. ‘I haven’t been to Scotland for so long,’ he went on quietly. ‘I wanted to put it all behind me. The manse, the kirk. But I suppose I’ll have to face it one day. Perhaps that’s best. To face one’s nightmares.’ He was running his fingers up and down the warm silky spine. The cat began to purr. ‘That’s what my psychiatrist friends would tell me, I expect. Dig deep and see what hidden traumas there are in my life! Dr Freud would have a lot to say, I suspect, about my relationship with my mother and father.’ His hand moved up to the cat’s ears and he scratched gently at the animal’s ruff and then bent his head to drop a kiss on the top of its head. ‘Come on. I’d better ring my Janie. Hey, why did you do that!’ He let the cat fall suddenly from his arms as it lashed out and raked at his face with razor-sharp claws. He put his hand to his cheek and his fingers came away dripping blood. ‘You little devil. Get out! Go on, buzz off! I was going to fetch you some milk after my call!’ He turned away from the door, dabbing frantically with his handkerchief as the blood poured down his face, staining his stiff white collar and blue striped shirt. ‘Hell and damnation!’ He hurried to the door of his study and ran upstairs, trying to stem the flow before it ruined his shirt altogether. Tearing it off, he flung it into the wash basin and ran the cold tap. By the time he had patched his face with sticking plaster, changed into a casual shirt and sweater and poured himself a stiff whisky it was beginning to grow dark. He wandered back into his study and stood for a moment looking out of the open French doors across the garden, sniffing the night-time scent of stock and roses. Then he turned back towards the desk and picked up the phone.

  Jane drew up in the deserted street and turned off the engine. She was stiff and exhausted after the long drive and for a moment she sat where she was, looking at the house. The windows were in darkness. She had thought long and hard after Adam’s call two nights before, and then she had made her decision. ‘I can’t let him go up to Scotland on his own. If I drive back, can I leave Calum with you, Liza?’

  ‘Of course you can!’ Liza had hugged her. ‘You know you don’t even have to ask. Leave him as long as you like. The whole holidays if you want. I know the children love it. They always get on so well and you’ve done it often enough before. It will give you and Adam some well deserved time alone again.’

  She had rung Adam back twice to tell him her decision but he was out on calls so in the end she had decided to surprise him, driving through the night to avoid traffic and arriving home at four-thirty in the morning. She climbed slowly out of the car and stretched, breathing in the sweet smell of suburban gardens, so different from the c
ool wild air of the Welsh hills, then she dived into the car and pulled out her suitcase and her hold-all. Slamming the door and locking it she made her way up the path and reached into the pocket of her jacket for her keys.

  The house was all dark inside and she put a hand out to the hall light switch, closing the door silently behind her.

  The steps of the staircase creaked beneath her weight as she tiptoed up. Their bedroom door was open and she went in, reaching to switch on the small lamp on the tall chest of drawers just inside the door. Adam was fast asleep, and as her eyes adjusted to the sudden light she realised that there was a second head on the pillow beside his, a woman’s, her long dark hair fanned across the sheet.

  ‘Adam!’ Her anguished shriek woke him with a start and he sat up, still half asleep.

  Jane caught at the back of the chair near her, shaking. She was weak with shock. There was no woman.

  ‘What, in the name of God, are you doing, giving me a fright like that!’ Adam threw his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his dressing gown. He was naked. He never slept naked when she was in the twin bed next to him. They had bought the beds after Jane’s miscarriage when, for a time, her pain and restlessness and misery had driven Adam away and somehow they had never brought the old double bed back into the room. It was something she had often regretted. She watched as he pulled on his robe and knotted it round his waist.

  There was a livid red scratch across his cheek and his hair was rumpled like Calum’s. ‘What on earth are you doing here in the middle of the night? Is something wrong?’

  ‘I thought I’d give you a surprise.’ She grimaced, kicking off her shoes. ‘I thought you’d be pleased to see me. I didn’t want you to have to go to Scotland on your own.’