So Long At the Fair (16 page)

A little silence fell between them, then he said, ‘I was so pleased to meet you at the fair. So glad.’

‘Oh . . .’ No words would come to her.

Silence again. Then he said with a little laugh, as if trying to ease the moment, ‘I left my prize behind, you know.’

‘Your prize?’ She had no idea what he was talking about.

He chuckled. ‘The coconut I won. I left it behind, by the stream.’

‘Oh – that’s a shame.’ Through her brain flashed pictures of the two of them together beside the brook, the lights of the fairground twinkling in the falling dusk.

‘Is your sister well?’ His voice broke into her thoughts.

Clearly he had no idea of what happened. ‘Yes,’ she lied. ‘She’s quite well, thank you.’ She paused briefly, awkwardly, then said, her words coming out in a rush, ‘I’m sorry – but I can’t ask you in. I’d like to but – it’s just not possible right now.’

The disappointment was clear in his face. ‘Oh, well, now, that’s a pity. But I should have written first, I know.’ Then he smiled. ‘But – perhaps we could take a little walk. Just for a while. Have a chat.’

She said nothing, only stood there.

‘I don’t have to go back to London right away,’ he said. ‘I can stay for a day or two.’ He waited. ‘No?’

‘I’m sorry, it’s just that . . .’

His smile faded. ‘Me? Is it me?’

‘What? Oh, no.
No
.’

‘Are you sure? I know that – that when we met you must have thought me very . . .’ He had difficulty finding the right word. ‘I know I didn’t behave as I should have and I –’

‘No,’ she broke in, ‘it’s not that.’ She spoke quickly; she didn’t want to be reminded of that time. ‘Look, I have to go in. I’m sorry . . .’

He didn’t move as she took a step back from the gate.

‘I could write to you,’ he said. ‘Is there any point in my doing that?’

She stopped, turned to face him again. ‘Yes.’ She gave a slow nod. ‘Write to me.’

‘And if I do will you answer?’

‘Yes, of course. Oh, I’m so sorry about today. I can’t explain but . . .’ She let her words trail off.

‘It’s all right. I told you – I should have written first.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s all right.’ He was looking at her intensely. ‘You know – whatever you might have thought – I meant what I said just now. I was so happy to meet you at the fair. It meant so much to me.’

Briefly, amid all the inner turmoil, she felt her heart swell with happiness at his words, and then heard herself saying, ‘Yes – I too.’

‘Truly?’

She gave a nod.

‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I can see I’ve caught you at an awkward time. I mustn’t keep you.’

Forcing a smile, she stepped back towards him and put out her hand.

Taking it, he said, ‘You’re sure you’ll answer if I write?’

‘I promise.’

‘You promise?’

‘I promise.’

His smile was back. ‘Fine. Goodbye, then – Abbie.’

‘Goodbye.’

She moved up the path, then turned to make her way round the side of the house. Just before she passed the corner of the building she glanced back over her shoulder. He had moved onto the green, had come to a stop and was looking back at her.

He waved. She returned his wave and entered the cottage.

Now she had to see Beatie. Tell her of her meeting with Tom.

Chapter Ten

Louis’s promised letter arrived on Saturday morning. Standing in the kitchen, Abbie unfolded the notepaper. Beneath his London address and the date, he had written:

Abbie read the letter through three times. He had meant what he had said. She was so afraid that he had been toying with her, or that, once back in London again, he would forget. Though, she told herself, the fact that he had travelled all the way from London to Flaxdown for the sole purpose of seeing her – that, surely, was proof of his feelings. She felt a strange, embracing warmth. She was so glad, so very very glad that he had written.

She folded the letter, returned it to the envelope and put it on the mantelpiece. She would answer it soon. For the time being she must give all her attention and consideration to Beatie.

Beatie was ready long before the time of Tom’s expected visit and by noon, having dressed with the greatest care, she was almost pacing the floor in her anxiety to see him. She ate little of the food that Abbie put before her, only eager to get away from the table again, as if by doing so she could somehow bring forward the moment of his arrival.

But the hours passed, and Abbie knew that he would not come.

At five o’clock Beatie rose from her seat at the window and went upstairs. Abbie followed a few moments later and found her lying on the bed, gazing dully at the wall.

‘Perhaps something happened to detain him, or prevent his coming,’ Abbie said.

‘It’s over,’ said Beatie. ‘He doesn’t want to see me any more.’

‘Beatie . . .’

‘It doesn’t matter what you say, Abbie, I know. A week has gone by and I’ve heard nothing from him.’ Abruptly she sat up. ‘But he’s
got
to come. He’s
got
to.’ Bursting into tears, she threw herself down and buried her face in the pillow.

That evening their father returned from Trowbridge where he had been working for the past week. When he and Abbie were alone she told him of her meeting with Tom Greening and of his failure to appear that afternoon. He bent his head and sighed. ‘What’s to be done?’

Abbie shrugged. ‘I don’t think there’s anything to be done. Except wait and hope.’

Eddie’s reaction, as Abbie could have predicted, was more volatile than their father’s. ‘I’ll go and see ’im,’ he said angrily. ‘I’ll find out what’s ’appenin’.’ And he would have gone to Lullington, charging over in his usual hot-headed way, had not Abbie persuaded him against it. It would solve nothing, she said, and certainly it would do nothing to help Beatie.

On Monday morning Beatie shut herself in the bedroom with writing paper and pen. When she came down a while later she told Abbie that she had written Tom a letter. ‘He’ll come and see me when he’s read it,’ she said.

Sorrowfully, and unconvinced, Abbie watched as she left the cottage to post it. Tom had had ample time and every chance to contact Beatie, and he had not done so. She could not imagine how Beatie’s letter would make him change his mind.

Abbie’s fears were realized. As the days passed, she observed Beatie’s growing despair while she waited in vain for some response to her letter.

On Saturday morning Abbie saw Beatie watching from the window once again as the postman walked past the cottage gate. In silence Beatie gazed at the old man until he moved out of sight, then she turned quietly away.

Abbie was preparing to leave for the grocer’s shop and do other errands in the village. ‘Beatie, why don’t you come with me?’ she suggested. ‘You should get a little air. It doesn’t do you any good to stay cooped up in here day after day.’

Beatie shook her head. ‘No,’ she said dully, ‘I don’t want to see anyone.’

Knowing that it was useless to try to persuade her, Abbie left the cottage. When she returned some forty-five minutes later, she found the kitchen empty and, on going upstairs, saw that Beatie’s cape was not in the wardrobe. Back downstairs, she busied herself unpacking the shopping and doing other odd chores while she waited for Beatie’s return. Twenty minutes later, when there was still no sign of her, she left the cottage to go in search of her. After wandering around the village for a time she saw Mrs Carroll, who told her that she had seen Beatie some time earlier starting out on the road to Lullington. Abbie at once set out after her.

Later, as she approached Lullington village, she saw ahead of her the solitary figure of Beatie sitting by the roadside. Abbie hurried towards her. Beatie, seated on the stump of a fallen tree, did not look up as she drew near.

‘Beatie,’ Abbie said, ‘I wondered where you’d got to. Then I saw Jane’s mother and she said she’d seen you heading out this way.’

Beatie sat looking ahead of her. Abbie sat down beside her. After a little silence she said hesitantly, ‘What are you doing out here, Beatie?’ She paused, waiting. ‘Are you – going to see Tom?’

‘I’ve already been.’ Beatie began to pluck nervously at her skirt. Turning to Abbie, she added with a strange little smile, ‘He didn’t want to see me.’

Hearing the tone of Beatie’s words, seeing the strange, humourless little smile on her lips, Abbie felt as if her heart would break. ‘Oh, Beatie – I wish I could say something to –’

‘There’s nothing you can say,’ Beatie broke in. ‘There’s nothing anyone can say that will make it right. Only Tom – and it’s too late.’ A brief silence, then she went on, ‘I felt that if I could only talk to him it would be all right again. But he wouldn’t see me. The maid said he’d gone away, to stay with relatives, and that she didn’t know when he’d be back.’ She turned to Abbie. ‘What did I do that he should turn away from me like this?’

‘You haven’t done anything,’ Abbie said. ‘Of course you haven’t.’ She put her arms round Beatie’s shoulders, hugging her to her.

Withdrawing from Abbie’s embrace after a moment, Beatie said, ‘What shall I do now? I don’t know what to do.’

High in a tree nearby a blackbird was singing, his voice unbearably sweet in the stillness. Below him a squirrel darted, a flash of red among the branches. In the meadow beyond the opposite hedge a cowman was driving a herd of cattle. Untouched by Beatie’s grief the world went on.

‘Beatie – come on home now.’

‘Home . . .’ Beatie spoke the word as if she had never heard it before and remained sitting there. ‘He doesn’t love me any more,’ she said, ‘and I don’t know what to do.’

‘There’s nothing you can do right now. But if it’s true – if it
is
over between you and Tom, well – I can only say it shows he wasn’t the right one for you. He couldn’t be.’

‘Don’t.’ Beatie gave a worried little shake of her head. ‘Don’t say that.’

‘Oh, Beatie,’ Abbie said, ‘I can imagine how you must be suffering – but in time you’ll get over it. I know right now you can’t possibly see that it could be so, but I’m sure it will happen.’

Beatie put out a hand and laid it on Abbie’s. ‘Yes, perhaps you’re right.’ She pressed Abbie’s hand, then rose, drawing Abbie up beside her. ‘Come on, let’s go home.’

They hardly spoke as they walked and the journey seemed to Abbie very long. Eventually, though, they came to Flaxdown. They made their way along Miller Street, past the Lamb and Flag and crossed over the green. As they neared the entrance to Green Lane, Abbie saw a figure drawing near and recognized the Revd Hilldew. In the same moment that she saw him he raised his hand, hailing her and bidding her to wait.

‘I’ll go on,’ Beatie said quickly, already turning, starting along the lane. ‘I don’t want to talk to anybody.’

‘All right – you go on indoors and put the kettle on. I’ll only be a minute.’

Abbie watched as Beatie, head bowed, went along the lane and turned in at the front gate of the cottage. A few moments later the Revd Hilldew was stopping at Abbie’s side.

‘I was just on my way to see you, Miss Abigail,’ he said, smiling. ‘Though it looks as if I’m lucky I didn’t call a few minutes earlier.’

‘Yes,’ Abbie said. ‘I – I’ve just been out with my sister.’

The man nodded and cast a careful glance along the lane in the direction of the cottage, then said quietly, ‘I was told what – what happened. What a dreadful thing.’ He paused. ‘How is your sister now, may I ask?’

‘I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.’

He shook his head sympathetically. ‘It will take her some time to get over such a – such an experience. Tell me – is her wedding likely to be delayed?’

Abbie sighed. ‘I can’t tell you, Reverend. I just don’t know what’s happening. Perhaps there’s not going to be any wedding. I don’t know. We’re all at sixes and sevens.’

‘I wish there were something I could do. Would it help if I had a word with her? I might be able to give her a little comfort . . .’

‘That’s very kind of you, sir, but – I don’t think she wants to see anyone right now. Outside of the family, I mean.’

He nodded. ‘I understand. But you will let me know if I can do anything?’

‘Yes, I will. Thank you.’

‘They haven’t found the men, I suppose.’

‘No. We’ve got no idea who they are or where they came from. But I don’t care if they’re never found. I just want it all to be finished with – and for Beatie to get over it.’

‘Of course.’

They stood facing one another a moment or two longer, then Abbie took a token step away, anxious to go and rejoin her sister. Observing her move, the cleric said, ‘I don’t want to keep you, but listen – your sister is not the main reason for my coming here today. I wanted to see you on quite another matter.’