HIGH TIDE AT MIDNIGHT (5 page)

legends. Oh, here's the bus at last.'

She clambered up the steps of the single-decker while Morwenna followed.

'You want the stop after mine,' she directed as Morwenna paid for her ticket.

'Turn left at the Cross and follow the road until it brings you out at the house.

You can't miss it,' she added. 'It doesn't lead anywhere else.'

Morwenna would have liked to have questioned Biddyfurther about

Trevennon, but the bus was fairly crowded and she was aware of all the

potential listening ears, so she confined her questions to general ones about

the area itself. Biddy was cheerful company, and Morwenna felt oddly

desolate when she announced eventually that they were coming to her stop.

'You want the next one, don't forget,' she said as she got to her feet. 'Good

luck.' She paused. 'If you—do decide to stay for a while, look us up at the

pottery.'

'I'd like that,' Morwenna smiled up at her. As the bus lurched away again she

took a deep breath to steady herself and began to retrieve her belongings. In

less than five minutes she found herself standing in the darkness, the wind

whipping at her hair and tangling across her face. She shivered, huddling her

sheepskin jacket round her for warmth and wishing that she was just about

anywhere but the chill of this unknown country road.

She began to walk towards the faint glimmer of the signpost at the

crossroads, glad of the shelter of the hedge. It was raining still and the drops

stung her face. When she licked her lips she could taste salt on them, and in

the distance above the howl of the wind, she could hear the *sea roaring.

'Good night for wrecks,' she murmured aloud, and grimaced at the thought.

At the crossroads she turned left as Biddy had indicated and found herself in

a narrow lane, bordered on either side by high hedges. It was really dark

now, the faint moonlight almost totally obliterated by the mass of rushing

clouds chased by the gale.

She had walked perhaps two hundred yards, practically feeling her way

along the hedge, when she stopped and ^aid flatly and aloud, 'This is silly.'

She set down her case and the rucksack and began to unfasten the buckles.

Among the oddments she had thrown in at the last moment, she thought, was

a torch, although she wasn't sure if it worked or if there were even any

batteries in it. Naturally the missing article had slipped right to the bottom of

the rucksack and she was obliged to repack it almost completely before she

could fasten it again. Grimly she stood up at last and tentatively switched on

the torch. The faintness of the glimmer of light that fell on the road in front

of her indicated there was not much life left in the batteries, but it was better

than nothing, and it was a heavy, comforting object to have in- her hand

anyway on this evening when the whole world seemed full of movement and

menace and unidentifiable sounds. She shone the torch ahead of her, and her

heart almost leaped into her mouth when it picked out something large and

white in the hedge, something which bent and swayed in the wind. A large

notice board, she realised, with hysterical relief, and what an utter fool she

was making of herself. She had spent the greater part of her life living in the

country, so why was she behaving like a townie, leaping at every shadow,

letting her imagination play tricks. It was nonsense to think that this dark,

unfamiliar landscape was rejecting her. She was letting Biddy's warnings

really get to her.

Or was she? she wondered drily a moment later as she allowed her torch to

play over the lettering on the board. 'Private Road to Trevennon Only', it

stated unequivocally. No sign of the welcome mat there, she thought

philosophically, and walked on.

She had been walking for about ten minutes and wishing that the notice

board had given some idea of the distance involved when it happened. The

shriek of the wind had been rising steadily, and now in a sudden boiling

crescendo of sound there was a loud crack just ahead of her, and with a

slithering rumble a tree fell right across the road in her path.

She stood very still for a moment, then put her case down, and began to

shake. She wasn't hurt. For God's sake, it hadn't even touched her, but it had

been close, and at this rate her nerves were going to be shot to pieces and she

was going to arrive on Dominic Trevennon's doorstep a gibbering lunatic.

What was more, although the tree on closer examination did not turn out to

be particularly large, nevertheless it had blocked the road. She could climb

over it, but that was not the problem. Private road it might be, but

presumably people at the house had vehicles and visitors with other

vehicles, and the tree had fallen awkwardly between two bends in the lane.

A driver would be on top of it almost before he realised.

She caught hold of one of the sturdier branches and tugged, but to no avail. It

might not be large, but it was heavier than it looked. She supposed her most

sensible course of action would be to hurry on to the house wherever it was,

and warn someone, trusting to luck that no one drove along the lane in the

meantime.

Ironically, the wind now seemed to be lessening, as if aware it had done its

worst and could now be satisfied. And behind her, in the distance, she could

just hear the sound of a car engine, coming fast. Morwenna swung round,

her eyes searching the darkness. She was not all that far from the main road,

she told herself. There was no reason to think that the traveller would not go

straight on. But even as she watched, she saw the glare of a pair of powerful

headlights and knew that against all the odds the car had turned off towards

Trevennon. And the driver knew the road. He was covering the narrow

twisting road without a check, and any moment now he would be here,

unaware of the waiting danger.

Morwenna almost hurled her case and rucksack into the 'shelter of the hedge

and ran, stumbling, back to the bend. She stood in the middle of the lane,

swinging her torch from side to side in a desperate attempt to attract

attention, but wouldn't the pitiful light it afforded be swallowed up in the

darkness?

The car lights seemed to slice across the evening sky, and then with a snarl

of the engine the car was upon her. She gave the torch one last wave, then

dived towards the hedge, but not quite soon enough. Something grazed

her— perhaps a wing—and she fell, not hard but sufficiently to wind her.

The car stopped with a squeal of brakes, a door slammed and Morwenna

found herself being hauled to her feet with considerably more force than she

felt was necessary.

He was tall, and his hands were hard and bruising. That was the first, the

most Immediate impression, and more than enough, Morwenna thought

feelingly, as she was dumped unceremoniously back on to her feet. He

seemed to be very dark, or was that just the suggestion of the darkness

around him, and he was, she realised radiating an anger that was almost

tangible.

'You bloody little idiot.' He wasn't shouting; he didn't have to. 'What the hell

do you think you're doing? You could have been killed!'

His grip on her upper arms was really hurting, and furiously she pulled

herself free. 'You call me an idiot!' she blazed back at him, fright and stress

making her voice younger and more breathless than she would have liked.

'And what about you—driving like a maniac on a rotten night like this? If I

had been killed, it would have been all your fault!'

Even as she spoke, she knew she was not being totally fair. He had seen her

pitiful attempt to cause a diversion and had managed to stop, in spite of the

speed he was driving at, almost within the car's length. But this had been the

final straw in a pretty abysmal day, and now reaction was taking its toll of

her.

'Your logic fascinates me,' he said with a cool contempt that seared its way

across her skin. 'May I point out to you that this is in fact' a private road, and

under those circumstances one expects to be preserved from the antics of

lunatic hitch-hikers. And might I also suggest you make your way back to

the main road, and ply your trade there.'

'I was not hitch-hiking!' She was furious to find that she was shaking like a

leaf. 'What I was doing was trying to save your life, or at least trying to

prevent you from being injured. That, of course, was before I met you.'

There was a long electric silence.

'You'd better explain,' he said grimly. 'Oh, not your last remark. I've

managed to work the implications of that out for myself.'

'There's a tree down,' she said tonelessly. 'Just round that bend. I was going

to warn someone at the house, then I heard you coming, and thought I'd

better stay and warn you instead. Only all I had was that damned torch, and

the batteries aren't too good—and now they've gone all together.' She began

unavailingly to push the switch on the torch backwards and forwards as if

her very insistence could make it work again.

There was another silence, then he said abruptly, 'Wait here.'

He walked across to the car, climbed in and started the engine. He drove the

few feet to the bend, then stopped. Another pause, then she heard his

footsteps returning.

He said without emotion, 'It seems I. owe you an apology.'

'Well, don't let it ruin your life.' She tried to sound flip, but the quiver in her

voice betrayed her, and she heard him sigh, swiftly and sharply.

'But that still doesn't explain precisely what you were doing on this road in

the first place,' he said. 'What happened? Did you miss the main road in the

dark? This lane only leads to--'

'To Trevennon,' she finished for him wearily. 'I know. I can read, actually, if

the print is big enough. And I haven't missed my way, though God knows it

would have been easy enough. I'm going to Trevennon. I have to see Mr

Dominic Trevennon.'

She heard his startled intake of breath and wondered resignedly if she was to

be the recipient of another Awful Warning about Mr Trevennon's

intolerance of casual callers 'and general irascibility, but when he spoke his

voice sounded cool and disinterested.

'Indeed, and has Mr Trevennon the pleasure of expecting you?'

'No,' she admitted. 'And I've already been warned that he's arrogant and

awkward and imagines that he's some uncrowned king of Cornwall, but all

the same, I'm going to see him.'

'I can't imagine why,' he remarked. 'Judging by the description you've

received of him, I would have thought it would have been infinitely

preferable to keep your distance.'

'I have to see him, she said abruptly. 'I want to ask him a favour.'

'Do you think he sounds the kind of man likely to provide favours for

chance-met strangers?'

'On the face of it, no.' Morwenna shook her head. 'On the other hand, he's

obviously a supreme egotist, and he might just be flattered to think someone

has travelled half way across England to ask him to do something for them.

Besides, I'm not wholly a stranger to him.'

'Well, I wouldn't count on it,' he said bitingly. 'And what do you

mean—you're not "wholly a stranger"?'

But Morwenna was already regretting that she had said so much.

'I'm sorry, but I think that's my business,' she said, biting her lip. 'And I don't

doubt you're a lifelong friend of his and that you can't wait to get down to

Trevennon and tell him what I've said. Well, go ahead. I don't suppose that

in the long run it will make much difference anyway.'

'As a matter of fact,' he said slowly, 'at this precise moment, I'm wondering

whether I've ever known him at all. As for proceeding with all haste to

Trevennon to drop you in it, may I remind you that the road is blocked by a

tree. Besides, I'm going to make a detour round to the farm to get Jacky

Herrick to bring his tractor down to shift it, so if you hurry you should arrive

at Trevennon with your version first.'

'A tractor?' Morwenna let her voice register exaggerated surprise. 'You mean

you're not going to pick it up with one hand, and toss it lightly into the

hedge?'

She was sorry as soon as she had said it. There was something about him that

got under her skin, but that was no excuse for behaving with gratuitous

rudeness.

When he spoke, his voice was cold with anger. 'If I was in the mood for

tossing anything into a hedge, believe me, young woman, you'd get priority

over any tree.'

'I think we've already established that,' she said ruefully, wincing a little as

she moved forward.

'Are you hurt? The car hardly touched you…'

'Oh, please don't bother about me.' She felt as if one side of her was one