Harbinger of Spring (17 page)

Sara thought that in
all her life she had never been
so thrilled. There
was this wonderful, almost soundless
speeding through the water
and a feeling of being at one
with the elements.

But the emotional
feeling did not last long. The
continual bending of
the river brought the yacht nearly
facing the wind
and
it
could only make headway by a
series of zig-zag
tacks in which Hugh had to aid her
frequently. Then
the boatyard came within sight again
and when they finally
reached it they were able to run
free and stop where Sara
’
s
launch was moored. A little
breathlessly, she let go of
sheet and tiller.

‘
I was going to say
that was fun, but it was more
than that.
It
was a really
great experience.
’

‘
I
’
m glad you liked it.
A lot of people regard sailing
as a bore, sort of slow
and uncertain.
’

‘
You mean you
can
never
say for certain if, or when,
you
’
ll get to the place you
’
re
aimin
g for? Surely it
’
s
the trying which counts?
’

He gave her an odd look.
‘
Better
to travel hopefully
than to arrive? Not whether
you won or lost but how
you played the game?
’

‘
Yes, I suppose so,
’
she
answered a little shortly.

‘
But why
the
trite quotations?
’
She felt he had been
mocking her, doubting
her sincerity.

But
he didn
’
t answer her. He glanced at his watch.
‘
I
’
m sorry,
but I have
to
break up this little party now. I
have
to
be
in
London tonight.
I
’
m beginning a lecture tour from
there.
’

‘
I had
no
idea I was using up your valuable time. Will you be
away long?
’

The question was out before she realized she should not have asked. It was really none of her concern how long he would
be
away.

But he
answered
:
‘
About ten days, I think, and you
weren
’
t
using up my valuable time. It was my idea
—
remember?
’

Sara scrambled into her launch.
‘
Thank you for the lesson anyway. I
’
ve learned a lot and I hope one day I
’
ll get an opportunity to put it into practice.
’

He gave a slight wave of his hand and was on his way further up river, using only the jib sail before she had started her engine. She delayed the proceeding and watched his quick and sure movements in the lowering of the boom and taking up the slack of the mainsheet tackle until the yacht was heeling over and making a much greater speed than it had done when she was handling it. She half expected him to look back and wave and had a slight sense of disappointment. She might have known he wouldn
’
t. Then she reflected that not allowing himself to be diverted from whatever task he was doing was part of his make-up.

Sara started her engine and a few minutes later was back at the Mill, shivering a little as she put her key in the door. She looked around before closing it behind her. The sun was now low, a red ball in a slightly hazy sky, the small trees on the opposite bank dead white and slightly fuzzy in outline, the reeds standing poker stiff in their casing of ice and looking as solid and immovable as iron rails. As far as she could see nothing moved.

Sara experienced a sudden feeling of being an intruder in the scene. She stepped inside quickly and closed the door. She
was
an intruder. She did not belong here, no more than did any errant weekender or summer holiday-maker. Only people who were prepared to put down permanent roots should have ownership in a place like this. Impossible for herself, of course, but she would see to it that whoever did succeed in leasing Fenchurch Mill would be someone who wanted it for permanent living. It would not go to any wealthy person for
summer living who would leave it deserted
for much of
the year.

That much resolved, Sara felt happier.
She went into
the kitchen to make tea and
while
she
was waiting for
the kettle to boil the telephone
started to ring. To her
surprise it was
Mrs.
Worthing.

‘
Is something wrong with
Father?
’
she asked anxi
ously.

‘
Not in the least, unless you
’
d
call it a touch of spring
fe
ver.’

‘
Spring fever
!
Do you
mean
he
’
s
developed a sudden
yearning to take morning walks
in Hyde Park?
’

The older woman laughed.
‘
It
’
s more than that.
He
’
s on his way to visit you.
He
’
s been trying for
most of the morning to phone
you and I
’
ve made several
attempts this afternoon.
Anyway, he
’
s started for
Norwich and if he can
’
t reach
you by phone from the
station, he
’
ll book in at
an hotel and contact you from
there.
‘

‘
Well, this is a surprise.
I
hope
he likes snow and ice,
because there
’
s plenty of both
here.
’

‘
I
’
ve never heard him say that
he does. As a matter
of fact it
’
s mild and sunny here.
That
’
s what made him
restless. That and a contract in
Derbyshire being delayed
for a month.
’

‘
What time train did he catch,
Mrs.
Worthing?
’

‘
About three-thirty.
’

‘
Then I
’
ve just about
time to meet him.
‘
Bye,
Mrs.
Worthing, and thanks
for letting me know.
’

Sara hurried into
the kitchen, swallowed a cup of tea
and ate a hastily
buttered bun, by now beginning to
feel hungry.
Twenty minutes later she was making a
slithery, bumping
progress along the narrow lane from
the boatyard.
She found the main road well salted
and the streets of
Norwich clear except for mounds of
brown slush
in the gutters. The train was ten
min
utes
late and when it did arrive her father was one of the last to come through the barrier. He carried two large suitcases, but dropped them as he saw her.

‘
Sara
!’
To her surprise he wrapped her tightly in his arms and kissed her.
‘
Mrs.
Worthing and I have been quite worried about you.
’

‘
Worried? Except for a little boredom I
’
ve been perfectly all right. In fact, I
’
ve been quite enjoying myself, learning how to sail and all kinds of things.
’

‘
Really? At this time of year? Well, well!
’

He picked up his suitcases and they made their way out of the station where she had parked her car. She was indicating to her father where it was when to her surprise they came face to face with Hugh.

‘
Sara! You didn
’
t say you were coming into town.
’

‘
I didn
’
t know until about an hour ago. Hugh, this is my father. He
’
s making a surprise visit. Father, meet Hugh Cornish. He
’
s an expert in birds, sailing
—
and mending punctures—to mention but a few of his accomplishments.
’

The two men shook hands and Hugh smiled faintly.

‘
Sara exaggerates. I hope you
’
ll enjoy your stay.
’

‘
I
’
m sure I shall,
’
Eric Seymour said.

‘
I
’
m afraid I
’
ll have to be away for about a week. Perhaps if you
’
re still here when I come back we shall meet again. For the present, I must say goodbye. My train leaves in a few minutes.
’

She watched him walk away with long easy strides, then led the way to the car and when the cases had been put into the boot, drove away from the station. Neither of them spoke again as she was threading a way through the traffic, but from quick side glances Sara gave at her father she could see he was very much interested in all he saw.

‘
Well, what do you think of Norwich?
’
she asked when they reached the outskirts.

‘
It
’
s a remarkably unspoiled city and I intend seeing a lot more of it. How far do these suburbs stretch?
’

‘
About two miles. Then we
’
re in open country.
’

‘
Open country—only a couple of miles from the city centre? Wonderful. And the other ways out of the city, how about those?
’

‘
I haven
’
t explored yet, but from the map I bought there isn
’
t much built-up land.
’

‘
What a wonderful chance for developers
!
I saw mile after mile of unspoiled country from the windows of the train.
’

Sara laughed,
‘
You
’
d better get off that track while you
’
re here, Father. As I make out from the local paper, there are three words around here that are likely to start a war. Development, planning, and conservation.
’

‘
H
’
m. They
’
re words which should go together.
’

‘
I don
’
t know how you can talk like that. I
’
ve seen some of your great ugly bridges and fly-overs.
’

‘
I agree with you that raw concrete is ugly, but the main trouble in this country is that town planning and roads came much too late, and that conservation, except by a few very rich landowners, was almost ignored.
’
They passed a beautiful stretch of slightly undulating land dotted with great oaks. Eric Seymour indicated it with a wave of his hand.

‘
Take that, for instance. I don
’
t know who owns it now, but I
’
ll bet anything that it was laid by for a rich gentleman over a hundred years ago and that somewhere there is a grand house to match the fine parkland, otherwise it probably wouldn
’
t be there.
’