Larkrigg Fell (51 page)

‘She could, of course, be entirely innocent, running away for a different reason.’

Andrew shook his head, sunk deep in the gloom of self-pity. ‘She still loves him, that’s plain. I can feel the tension in her, like a wound-up spring. Then I saw her leaving Larkrigg Hall yesterday, skippy as a young lamb.’ The bitterness in his voice was painful to hear.

‘Have you talked to her about it?’

‘No.’

‘Don’t you think you should?’

Andrew’s frown deepened. ‘I’ve no wish to hear how much she still dotes on that man.’

Meg felt a surge of irritation. ‘You’re condemning her without a defence. She’s your wife, give her that right at least. Talk to her.’

Andrew kicked at a stone, making it bounce down the mountainside for several feet before it came to rest.

‘I know,’ Meg sighed. ‘It’s none of my business. Grandmothers aren’t supposed to interfere, but I love Beth, and if you love her as much as you claim then you owe her a decent hearing. Right? Isn’t your marriage worth fighting for?’

Andrew lifted his eyes to hers without speaking for a long moment. Then he gave a shamefaced nod. ‘You’re right, Meg, thanks.’

‘Good.’ She clasped a hand on his shoulder. ‘Have faith, lad. Have faith. Now, to business. Tam is heading over Coppergill Pass. There’s a spot near there where a lorry might get. I want to check out this heaf, you head west towards the house. If I don’t see you before, we’ll meet in a couple of hours at the edge of the wood, by the tarn. OK? Then we can nip off home for a bite of breakfast.’

Dawn was not a time Beth would have chosen for her confrontation with Sarah, but since she’d decided to stay with them for a few days, she’d taken to getting up whenever little Emily cried. It had become almost a race for Beth to reach her daughter first. On this occasion Sarah was in the room like a shot, cradling the child in her arms by the time Beth climbed out of bed.

‘I’ll take her,’ she said, and Sarah handed her over with obvious reluctance.

‘I’m surprised you don’t hear her the moment she cries.’

Beth carried the child downstairs and sat in her favourite spot on the sofa. Andrew had lit the fire for her, and it was warm and cosy. She didn’t bother to respond to Sarah’s criticism. ‘I usually make myself a cup of tea while I’m feeding, perhaps you could do it for me.’

By the time Beth had told her sister that she had no intention of ever having a baby for her, the tea was quite forgotten and left to cool untouched in the mugs.

Sarah, as expected, was outraged. ‘But I had it all planned. I’ve made arrangements with a clinic and everything.’

‘Then you’ll have to unmake them.’ The sound of the baby contentedly suckling brought both girls’ eyes upon her for a second and Beth’s heart sank. Was this the right decision? She did care for Sarah. She really did want her to experience the joy of bearing a child, as she had.

‘How can you be so selfish? How dare you refuse to help me? I need…’

‘Don’t tell me what you need, Sarah. It’s not my responsibility to keep you happy, not any more. I’m no longer the shy, awkward girl who always did your bidding because she was too afraid to protest. You can’t just make demands and expect me to provide, not now. I’m a woman, with a husband and family, and their interests must come first. In any case, Andrew would never agree.’

‘He would if you asked him.’

‘I’ve no intention of asking him.’

To Beth’s dismay her furious, haughty sister burst into tears. ‘You’d deliberately deprive me of happiness? My own twin sister?’

Beth sighed, feeling a sad exasperation at Sarah’s selfishness. ‘It’s not my fault, love. There are other solutions you could try. Have you seen a doctor? He might be able to help you. Or considered adoption? There are plenty of children in need of good parents.’

Sarah’s face set in mutinous lines. ‘Pietro would never consider adoption. You went up to see him yesterday, didn’t you? What did he say? Did you offer to run away with him?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I know you still fancy him like mad.’

Beth sighed. ‘I simply wanted to make it very clear to him that this demand of his for a child was a non-starter.’ Now was the moment, Beth thought. Sarah herself had given her the opener she needed. She settled Emily to the other breast and then lifted quiet eyes to meet her sister’s furious gaze. ‘There’s something else I need to tell you. A confession, of sorts. About something which happened when we were all living together at Larkrigg Hall. Around the time when I thought I might be the one to ultimately marry Pietro.’ Beth felt her throat closing up, the words dying on her even as she struggled to find the right ones.

‘Oh, that,’ Sarah said, getting up and flouncing over to the little fireplace where she kicked at a piece of coal. Sparks flew up the chimney and smoke billowed out into the room. ‘I’ve known about your little fling with Pietro for ages.’

Beth was stunned into silence for a whole half minute. ‘You knew?’

‘Of course. What of it? At least you were a woman.’

Beth went very still. ‘What do you mean? At least I’m a woman.’

Sarah put back her head and let out a long and weary sigh, then thrusting her hands deep in her dressing gown pocket turned to face Beth. ‘All right, you may as well know. Pietro often prefers men, the younger and more nubile the better. He’s bisexual.’

A picture of two naked bodies caught in a pool of sunshine exploded into Beth’s mind. She saw that one of them had an arm resting across the back of the other. Why hadn’t that registered at the time? The three giggling girls they then were had been too busy worrying over being discovered peeping. Dear lord, then this must mean ... She felt herself start to shake. ‘What are you suggesting? It isn’t possible.’

‘Oh, its perfectly possible. Pietro had a mad pash for Jonty. Didn’t you guess? He was fearsomely jealous when Jonty and I were - well - at each other like rabbits, as they say.’ She laughed, a hollow, lonely sound.

‘But I thought he was jealous of Jonty because he wanted you.’

Sarah shook with laughter verging on hysteria, the tears rolling down her lovely cheeks. ‘Foolish girl, but then I made the same mistake, at first. He’s not averse to sleeping with me, but he grows quickly bored. Sometimes I have to almost beg. I think that rather turns him on. He enjoys the chase perhaps, which makes him feel good about himself, but on the whole he prefers men to a more conventional relationship.’ Her sobs choked her to a stifled silence for a moment, then she struggled desperately on.

‘But I still love him, Beth. I thought that if I could have a child, he’d marry me and love me the best. But I can see that it was a stupid idea. I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

‘Oh, Sarah.’ Beth could only gaze in horror as her proud, strong sister sank to her knees on the hearthrug, put her face in her hands, and sobbed.

‘Oh, Beth, what have I done with my life? What have I done?’

Quickly, Beth stowed the now replete baby safely in her pram, then gathered Sarah into her arms. It was some time before she became calm, Beth offering soothing words, assuring her all was not lost. ‘See a doctor. You might yet have a baby of your own, and find happiness.’

‘With Pietro?’

‘That depends on you, love. Is he worth the agony?’

After a while Beth installed her on the sofa with baby Emily in her lap, and went to make a fresh pot of tea. As they sipped the comforting brew they talked, quietly and calmly, sharing fears and hopes and dreams, finding them to be surprisingly similar. Both wanting a man, love, home and family, all the conventional things together with the need for personal fulfilment, though with different ideas how to achieve it.

‘We’ve both made mistakes. I had a romantic ideal of life at Larkrigg Hall, and hung on to my rose-tinted image of Pietro for so long that I was in grave danger of losing the one man I really love.’

Sarah said, ‘I think I’m finally learning that if you treat life simply as a game you hurt yourself, as well as the people you love best. I need to stop being so selfish.’

‘Well that’s something to be thankful for,’ Beth said with a wry smile, and they were in each other’s arms again, laughing and crying at the same time, and still talking, as they never had before.

Andrew had been walking for what seemed like hours, eyes scouring the distant horizon, seeking sight of a lorry, wheel tracks, or any place where fifty sheep might be gathered or hidden away. His heart raged with hatred. Why had the man come back? Why did he have to spoil everything? Perhaps their marriage hadn’t turned out as perfectly as he’d hoped, but it wasn’t his fault that he’d lost his job and become less of a man.

He recalled the sight of Beth as she lay in bed this very morning, cheeks flushed from sleep, her glossy hair spread upon the pillow. He’d longed to take her in his arms and love her there and then. He wanted to believe in the love she’d offered him. But how could he?

He’d crept from the room without disturbing her, without saying how he had seen her leave Larkrigg the previous day, happy and laughing. How he’d almost been able to smell that Italian on her when she’d got home.

Sometimes he almost hated her, as if he wanted the fault to be hers. Yet he couldn’t put all the blame on to her. His own family had brought them to this mess, yet somehow he couldn’t prevent himself from turning his grievances upon Beth. The result, he realised, of his own inability to accept that she loved him. He saw it only as pity, and he had no wish to take the crumbs from other men’s tables, or from her grandmother.

The clouds hung heavy and low, echoing his mood, and any hope of finding the sheep today was fading as rapidly as the weather. An hour later he was up by the tarn, seeing it shatter with the first spots of rain, as he’d predicted. He stopped to rest, leaning against a rowan, his heart sunk in gloom.

What else could he think but that his wife had become so disillusioned in their marriage she’d embarked on an affair with her first love. The fact that Sarah wasn’t married to that fancy idiot had obviously reawakened Beth’s longing for him. She’d be wishing she’d waited. Andrew punched his fist hard against the bark of the tree. Specks of blood beaded his knuckles but he didn’t even flinch. He only wished it was Lawson’s head.

A sound at his side brought him reeling. ‘Who the hell ... ?’

‘Only me. Wet through and feeling sorry for myself.’ Meg grinned at him and shook the rain from her waterproof, sending a shower of raindrops over them both. ‘Hell, I’m wet.’

‘Me too, now.’ He laughed.

‘Coffee?’ She dug in her backpack and brought out a flask. It was a welcome sight. Meg poured out two cups and handed him one. ‘I used to come up here when I was a girl. Rarely have time these days for walking for pleasure.’ She cast him a sideways glance. ‘Course, if I could retire it would be a different matter. I could have a proper rest then. Even doing part time would be a start. Better than worrying over
lost sheep, I can tell you.’

Andrew’s face remained set tight, as always when the subject was raised, refusing to be drawn. He liked and admired Meg, but an awkwardness had grown between them since she’d offered them Broombank. A fact which Meg regretted. She was fond of Andrew, stubborn as he was, and of Beth, and could only hope they sorted their differences out soon.

They companionably sipped the scalding liquid in thankful silence for a few moments, letting it warm them through.

‘We’ll have to watch him like a hawk,’ Meg said at last.

‘Aye. We will.’ Their eyes met through the steam of fragrant coffee. ‘We need evidence of what he’s up to, in order to prove it to Beth, and to Sarah too. Make them realise he’s not the angel he seems.’

‘That smacks of interfering,’ Meg said. ‘Grandmothers aren’t supposed to interfere.’

‘No, but a husband can. I need your help, Meg. To save Beth from her own soft heart. We should run shifts. Keep a watch on the Hall and see what he’s up to. Follow him everywhere he goes.’

‘Aye, we only have to watch and be patient.’ Meg agreed. ‘No one hurts my girls.’

‘Let alone steal your sheep?’ teased Andrew.

Meg gave a wry smile. ‘That too of course.’ She gave him a measuring look. ‘You’ve been a good help to us on the farm. We value your assistance and wish you’d let us pay you for it.’

‘No. You’re Beth’s family. My family now.’

‘Can’t a family give each other things then? A house for instance? Or sell them a farm business at a reasonable rate?’ He remained mute and she shook her head in smiling despair. ‘Still too touchy for your own good, you daft lump. Yet you see how we can be friends when we put our minds to it. We both care about the twins, and are willing to take a risk for them.’

‘That’s different. That’s important.’

‘And Broombank isn’t?’

‘Broombank belongs to you. It has nowt to do with me. I’ll not accept charity.’

Meg bit back her impatience. ‘But it could be very much to do with you, if you’d let it. As you’ve just said, we’re family now.’

‘A farm is different.’

Meg sighed. ‘You tie me in knots. Broombank has been my life and I want to see it go to a caring owner. It’s a good farm. Modern and sound. Plenty of acreage. A Stock of near a thousand Swales and a hundred or so Herdwicks. Thirty beef cattle which I know you’re interested in, and could increase.’