Bird of Prey (13 page)

Then suddenly, as she was in despair of seeing him alive again, she heard Robin’s piping voice call distinctly, “Look, Caroline, the monster didn’t catch me after all. I’m quite safe. I told you I could swim like a fish. Why don’t you come back?”

She turned her head and saw him sitting up in the boat, soaked but triumphant.

Sobbing with relief, she did not give herself time to consider how he had managed to ensconce himself safely in the boat, but immediately turned towards it.

But her exertions had weakened her. The boat, drifting towards the shore, was moving further and further away from her. In panic she began to thresh the water ineffectually with her arms, but they felt numb and leaden with cold and she realized she was making no headway; instead she seemed to be drawn further into the centre of the lake.

She heard Robin, his small hands clutching the side of the boat, his eyes big with fright, calling, “Caroline, Caroline, come back!’’ Then as he realized he was alone in the boat and that she was in real danger, he began to cry wildly and then to scream in terror.

As for Caroline, an overwhelming tiredness seemed to possess her so that she no longer struggled, but felt a certain detachment concerning her fate. As the boat drifted to the shore she turned on her back, extended her arms and allowed herself to float, aware that Robin was scurrying towards the house, screaming shrilly. The child was trying to fetch help, she knew, but before anyone could come from the house her feeble strength would have failed. She gazed at the clouds as they drifted across the sky. The icy chill of the water seemed to seep into her very bones and numb her mind and make all resistance seem futile.

It was still with that strange feeling of detachment that she heard the sound of oars in rowlocks. Then the boat seemed to loom up over her and Randall’s face was peering down into hers. “Keep floating,” he ordered. “Don’t try to swim.” And before she knew quite what had happened strong hands had reached down and she was lifted out and deposited, dripping, in the boat. Without speaking, or as much as giving her a second glance, he rowed swiftly towards the jetty where he tied up, and picking her up with scant ceremony carried her towards the house.

There was something ominous about his silence and Caroline as she began to recover glanced up at him covertly, noting the tight lines of anger about his jaw and the hard glint of his eyes. Well, she had only herself to blame for this wretched affair, she told herself dolefully. Not only had she enraged her employer, but no doubt the rest of the household would be in an uproar, once Robin’s hysterical screams had been understood.

She discovered when they reached the house, that her assumptions had been only too correct, for they were met by Robin’s loud wails and Betty, Fred and Mrs. Creed chattering excitedly.

“I’ll take care of Caroline, Mr. Craig,” Mrs. Creed bustled forward.

“To think that you were almost drowned!” Betty howled dramatically.

“It would be better if everyone would keep their head,” Randall remarked, glaring forbiddingly at Betty, who showed every sign, now that danger was over, of relapsing into enjoyable hysterics.

“Get that child out of his wet clothes at once,” he gritted and Betty, drawing in her breath with an alarmed hiccough, hurried away with the still wailing Robin.

“Just show me up to Caroline’s room, Mrs. Creed,” Randall said abruptly, “then you can fetch hot towels and milk.”

Mrs. Creed bustled ahead and Caroline felt how lightly and easily he carried her up the flights of stairs to her eyrie under the roof.

He deposited her, dripping, on the wickerwork chair beside her bed. As Mrs. Creed was on the point of hurrying away, he said, “Perhaps you might get a fire lit when you get Caroline into bed. This room’s as cold as a dungeon.”

The housekeeper paused at the door, nonplussed at this demand. “But, Mr. Craig, there’s no fireplace. None of the servants’ rooms have, you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” he replied, in a sort of grim exasperation. “I’m amazed that you put up so patiently with such Victorian barbarity, Mrs. Creed.” Mrs. Creed bridled with pleasure at this accolade. “I’m not one to be fussy, as you know, Mr. Craig. If you ask me, girls in service nowadays expect too much. But I’d better run along,” she added hastily as she saw her employer giving growing signs of impatience. “To fetch the towels immediately, or Caroline will get her death of cold.” She bustled off and Caroline, sitting huddled in her chair, shivered dismally, fully expecting him to follow the housekeeper.

It was then, however, he turned to her and said tersely, “Do you realize it’s the merest chance both you and Robin weren’t drowned? If I hadn’t happened to be nearby and to have heard Robin’s yells, it would have been all up with you.”

“Yes, I know, and I want to thank you,” Caroline told him contritely. Then to her dismay her teeth began to chatter. She saw herself being regarded critically by Randall Craig and his dark features showed scant sympathy. She must present a lugubrious and ridiculous figure, she concluded glumly, sitting in the basket chair with lank, dripping hair.

“I’d better go and see to Robin, Mrs. Creed will be up directly: if there’s anything you want, let her know. After you’ve dried off I suggest you get into bed. I’ll be up later on to see how you’re getting on.” Then abruptly he left the room and Caroline was left to her own reflections.

Later, as she sat up in bed sipping hot milk which Mrs. Creed had thoughtfully laced with brandy, she reflected on his parting words and decided that it was hardly likely that he would, in fact, be up later. The remark had been simply a projection of the man’s desire to see that his instructions were carried out to the letter; his overweening desire to dominate those near to him. Meanwhile it was wonderful to slip between the crisp sheets with a comforting hot-water bottle.

When Mrs. Creed had departed, she drifted off to sleep. She had no idea how long she slept, but when she awoke the afternoon sun was slanting through the window of her room. As she blinked sleepily the door was flung open and Robin dashed in. His long hair was flopping wildly on his shoulders and his round cheeks were flushed. In his arms he was clutching possessively his anorak which already looked decidedly grubby and mud-stained. “Oh, Caroline,” he began in his loud, shrill voice, “Mummy has come to take me home and she won’t let me take my new anorak. Do ask her to let me, won’t you?”

As he spoke Grace came in.

“So there you are, Robin!” she snapped. “Didn’t I tell you to get your things together? We’re leaving immediately. And do put down that wretched object: it’s filthy.”

At this Robin broke into a loud wail. “Oh, Mummy, please let me keep it.”

“Certainly not! Don’t be ridiculous. Run along now. Don’t keep me waiting any longer,” Grace returned heartlessly.

As Robin moved slowly towards the door, tears were running down his cheeks. “Ask Mummy for me, won’t you, Caroline?” he pleaded as he went out.

But as soon as Caroline opened her mouth, Grace held up a peremptory hand. “If you’re going to speak about that wretched jacket, don’t waste your time, because I simply won’t listen. From all accounts you appear to have been having a hectic time since I left. I returned expecting that at least I’d be given a civil welcome—and what do I find? The place is buzzing with your doings. I’ve been away only a few days, but already you’ve managed to turn Longmere upside down. You and your crazy exploits are the only subject of conversation. Apart from a ducking there appears to be nothing wrong with you, and I can’t imagine why Randall’s behaving like a broody hen as far as you’re concerned.”

Caroline’s eyes widened at this information. “Are you sure?” she asked eagerly, then catching Grace’s sudden sharp look of wariness, said hurriedly, “That’s certainly not the impression he gave me when he was here. He seemed to be furious.”

“Here? Do you mean he came here to your bedroom?” It was Grace’s turn to widen her eyes. “And what was he doing here, may I ask?”

Caroline was silent, transfixed by the expression on Grace’s face. “He carried me up,” she said at last.

“Carried you up?” Grace repeated blankly. “Whatever for? Could you not walk?”

“Well, you see,” Caroline said a little lamely, “I’d been swimming around looking for Robin and all the time he was safe in the boat. Naturally I was terribly upset. Then by the time Randall rescued me I was completely exhausted.”

But Caroline’s sufferings were the last thing Grace was interested in. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I recollect now. He said your room was awful, ‘quite unsuitable’, but somehow it didn’t strike me that he had carried up the interesting invalid.” She gave a short contemptuous laugh. “Dear me, you’ve made quite a spectacle of yourself, haven’t you? Some day I must take a tip out of your book: your technique for filling the centre of the picture is really very effective.”

She moved towards the window and stared out in angry silence and Caroline, partly to change the subject, ventured, “Grace, you’re not in earnest, are you, about not letting Robin keep his anorak? He has his heart set on it. He’ll be bitterly disappointed if you make him leave it behind.”

Grace swung around from the window, as though struck by a new grievance. “And that’s something I want to talk to you about. How dare you presume to take Robin into Keswick and buy him a jacket as if he were some poor neglected orphan, when I personally see to it that he has everything he requires, and of the very best! ”

“Yes, I know, Grace,” Caroline said placatingly. “But that’s not what I meant. I know Robin has plenty of clothes—far more than he needs, in fact—but are you sure they’re the right kind of thing for his age? I mean, little boys have such a horror of appearing babyish.”

“For his age? What on earth are you saying?” Her eyes narrowed. “I think I know what you mean. You’re suggesting that I’m pretending that Robin is younger than he is, for my own benefit. ”

“No, no, of course not,” Caroline said hastily. “I meant nothing of the kind. It’s just that—well, I think he’d like clothes he could knock around in. The clothes you have on him are really beautiful, but they don’t stand much wear and tear and I think he’s continually on edge in case he’ll spoil them.”

“And that’s just the way he should be,” Grace said sharply. “I don’t want him running around getting himself filthy. Robin’s a beautiful child and I’m not going to have him look scruffy and underprivileged. I suppose you’d like me to spoil his appearance by putting him into one of those wretched cheap coats which look so perfectly awful on him.”

Caroline drew in her breath at this extraordinary

interpretation of her gift.

Grace crossed to the mirror and gazed at herself complacently. “Robin takes after me, for poor Paul was no Greek god. Everyone remarks how alike we are.”

“That’s just the point, Grace,” Caroline said placatingly. “You mustn’t treat Robin any differently from any other little boy of his age, just because he happens to have inherited your looks. And he does long to do adventurous things.”

Grace swung towards her in sudden fury. “That’s your story, is it? And very clever it is, I must say! You’re all concern about my child, aren’t you, yet you took him out on the lake and very nearly got him drowned as well as yourself, just because you’re a silly exhibitionist who doesn’t care what she’s doing, as long as she’s drawing attention to herself. Your behaviour is outrageous, and now you pretend you did it for Robin who, according to you, should be a hearty, freckle-nosed ordinary little boy. You wanted him to have a few outdoor adventures before cruel, heartless Grace returned to spoil things! Well, I’m not taken in by all that rubbish for a moment. All you’re concerned with is causing impact and putting yourself in the centre of the picture. And I believe Randall thinks the same. He’s landed himself with a handful in you and he has already as good as admitted it. I’d say he heartily regrets picking you up on the railway station that evening.”

Grace flounced out of the room, banging the door behind her. Caroline sat up in bed with her knees propped up under her chin. Grace’s last remark, if she had but known it, had struck home only too well. Randall had indeed made it clear that he regretted getting involved with her. Left to herself now in the silence of her eyrie beneath the roof, she felt desolation creep over her. Outside a bird gave a melancholy reedy flute and it was with difficulty she held back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. There was no one in the world who really wanted her, she realized. Aunt Muriel was only too glad to get rid of her. And Uncle Trevor would gradually see the wisdom of his wife’s decision. She would become vague to him. Grace was making no secret of her contempt and dislike. And Randall must

be wondering with exasperation how to get rid of such an unwelcome incubus.

She was staring unseeingly at the wallpaper, which depicted some bilious-looking roses, and was given over to gloom when there came a sharp rap at her door.

When she called, “Come in,” she saw with amazement that Randall’s tall figure was towering in the doorway. Somehow she had not expected him to return. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, her awkwardness making her sound antagonistic.

“Dear me, you sound quite bellicose. Would you prefer if I retired from the scene?” He leaned against the side of the door, regarding her thoughtfully.

“Oh no, of course not,” she said quickly. “It was simply that— that I didn’t expect you to come back again.”

“And why shouldn’t I?”