Someone Special (23 page)

‘At the top, above the tree-line,’ Hester gabbled. ‘I’m going back but I’ll come down again when I see you in the lane and guide you to the right spot.’

Mrs Seddon leaned across. ‘My dear, can I help? I could make a flask of tea, bring it up the mountain.’

‘That would be very good, but I must go,’ Hester said. She jumped off the running-board and the engine coughed, then steadied into a purr as Mr Seddon drove off. Hester was already hurrying back the way she had come, her breath short in her throat, the nagging pain of a stitch in her left side beginning to make itself felt. At this moment Nell might be struggling out of her prison, or she might be gasping for breath as the water rose …

Hester’s lumbering run turned into an agonising race as she tackled the steepness of the mountain.

She came out of the trees, a hand to her side, her breathing so harsh that she could hear nothing else. She looked up constantly as she plodded through the soaking furze, but the rain made an effective curtain; she could not make out the boulder through the downpour.

As she neared the summit she saw the top of the great rock, looking exactly as it had looked when she had left some twenty minutes earlier; of the men there was no sign. They must be getting Nell out, she thought excitedly. But why should they need to do such a thing? Why could the child not wriggle out unaided? Oh, dear God, has the water …?

Forgetting her exhaustion, Hester broke into a shambling run once more.

Geraint, gaining the upper hand for a moment, saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and thought that it had to be Hester returning. The child was still trapped and here he was acting like a fool, fighting young Matthew as though they were two schoolboys instead of grown men.

He pushed Matthew away, trying to say this was mad, that a child’s life was at stake, but the man came at him with such force that they both fell heavily to the ground. Matthew’s face was suffused with rage, the look in his eye reminded Geraint of a cornered wildcat he had once shot. He realised that Matthew had no intention of stopping the fight, that he would continue to battle on until one or other of them confessed to being beaten, or, he thought suddenly, one or other of us is dead.

Well, it’s not going to be me, you murdering bastard, Geraint said to himself; he moved back a little, startling Matthew, then lunged forward, grappled Matthew by the ears, and brought his head down on the rocky ground with a sickening thud. It was enough. Matthew, covered in mud from head to foot, lay on his back, looking like a huge felled ox. Geraint struggled to his feet just as Hester panted over the ridge.

‘John, what’s happened, where’s Nell? Good God, has poor Matt collapsed? Help’s coming … I’ll look after Matt, you keep digging!’

Geraint grinned muddily; that’s my girl, he thought, turning obediently back to the task on hand. Single-minded, that was Hester; she always concentrated on the job in hand, whether it was being seduced on a beach, making a hot dinner, marrying the wrong man or rescuing her daughter.

He wedged the crowbar under the tipping end of
the rock and heaved again, muscles cracking with effort. And this time it began the slight, almost rhythmic movement he had hoped for. Now it was possible! Now, if he could keep up the rhythm, the boulder would work with him and would topple by its own momentum as much as by his puny efforts.

The rain poured down, sweat stung his eyes, his body gasped for a rest, but the slight, rocking motion continued relentlessly, and the gap between boulder and cliff face grew, fraction by fraction, until it was an inch, two, three … six.

‘Mummy, the water’s too cold. Can I come out yet?’

The small, weary voice went to his heart, filling him with a novel feeling; a need to protect someone other than himself, a desire to cherish, to give instead of take. He wedged the crowbar, then dropped to his knees.

‘Nell, my dear, can you come to the opening now? I think it might be wide enough for you to wriggle though.’

He put his head behind the boulder and after a moment’s unnerving silence, he saw a small white hand, closely followed by another. She was holding on to the lip of rock at the front of her little cave. She turned her head and saw him; her smile was wide though tears had carved twin paths down her filthy face.

‘Hello, Mr Geraint! Can I come out now?’

‘Do you think you can get through? If not, my dear, I’ll start levering again and we’ll have you out in no time.’

‘I think I’d better try,’ Nell said diffidently. ‘My legs are so cold I keep sliding down, and my hands won’t hold on for much longer, I don’t think. The water’s really deep at the back.’

He had never admired anyone more; his heart swelled with pride though he knew what she was saying. It was now or never, get through the tiny gap or … but no sense in thinking of that.

‘Right. See if you can reach my hand.’

He grunted, pushed his hand as far into the crack as he could reach, bringing his head out to do so. But no small fingers clutched his, no human warmth reached him. He shoved and strained until he could feel the blood trickling down his shoulders and the side of his neck, but still could not reach her.

Hester had propped Matthew up against a rock. She was crouching by the boulder, staring. When she saw what he was trying to do, she came closer.

‘John, come out of there. I’m a lot thinner than you, let me try.’

‘But you don’t have the strength; you’ll need to heave her out physically. You can’t do it, Hester, you mustn’t try.’

‘I must. I will. You must let me.’

He knew she was right. He withdrew, then put his head back into the crack for a moment.

‘Mummy’s going to see if she can reach you, Nell. Her shoulders aren’t as broad as mine, she’ll have a better chance.’

He changed places with Hester, who reached into the crack; her entire shoulder vanished and he could tell by her expression that she was feeling without success for the child’s hands. She came out, then went in again, head first this time. He could hear a muffled conversation, then Hester began to ram herself into the crack. He poked her none too gently in the back.

‘Be careful! If you get stuck we’re lost.’

She must have turned her head, because he could hear her clearly. ‘She’s sliding back. I’ll have to go further in. Give me a push!’

‘It’s madness! Hester, my own darling, if you get stuck …’

‘I shan’t, but it’s our last chance! Push, damn you!’

She had never spoken to him in that tone of voice before and he could understand her desperation. So he
seized her by the curve of her hips and pushed hard, glad of the slippery clay, of the constant downpour, glad of anything which would help her to slide further into the narrow crack. She was right, it was the only way.

‘Got her!’

It was muffled by the rock, but clear enough. Geraint sat back on his heels and rubbed his eyes, not ashamed of the tears brimming in them but anxious to be calm as the most difficult part of the operation started: getting them both out safely.

‘Are you sure? Has she got you, as well? I won’t start to pull you out until you’ve got a good grip.’

‘She’s hanging on like a limpet,’ Hester’s voice said, faint but joyful. ‘Aren’t you, my pet?’ She turned her head and her voice came strong and clear to Geraint’s listening ears. ‘Start to pull ever so slowly and carefully, John. I can’t move at all without letting go of her.’

The next few minutes were a nightmare. Geraint pulled, slowly and carefully, gripping Hester round the knees, but even so she screamed once, a cry of real agony, and once she told him to stop before he tore her clean in two. But they were winning. He heard a muffled thud and a squeak, then Hester spoke again.

‘She’s out! She’s lying on her tummy, the whole of her top half is out. Keep pulling!’

Suddenly, like a cork from a bottle, Hester shot out of the crack, arms at full stretch. Grinning gleefully out of a mask of mud, Nell followed.

Safe! The three of them hugged, then turned with one accord towards Matthew.

‘Matt! Good lord, I’d forgotten, is he still unconscious? What happened, John?’

‘We put too much weight on the crowbar and he slipped on the wet clay and landed on a ledge of rock, knocking himself cold,’ Geraint said untruthfully. ‘He’s concussed, we’d better get him down the hill fast; he’ll
need medical attention, and you two could probably … ah, thank God!’

The rescue party came swiftly over the ridge, faces anxious, Willi and Dewi well in the lead with the Seddons close behind. They were armed with blankets, a flask of brandy, a door for a stretcher.

‘We’re all right,’ Hester said when the men wanted to put her and Nell on the stretcher and carry them down in triumph. ‘But poor Matthew’s had a nasty fall. John … Mr Geraint thinks he’s concussed. Can you take him?’

They all stumbled down the mountain, though Nell was carried. Geraint put his arm around Hester; no one would wonder at it, after what they had been through. Matthew remained ominously still, the colour drained from his face, his eyes closed. Nell patted his hand, stroked his cheek, but Matthew knew nothing.

‘I’ve sent for the doctor,’ Mr Seddon said as they trailed into the castle. ‘He’ll take a look at all of you, but I think Matthew ought to be taken straight to hospital. He’s been out for a good half-hour, possibly longer.’

They put him in the car, all muddy on the back seat, and Mr Seddon dropped the female Coburns at the lodge to wait for the doctor. Mr Geraint stayed in the car; he would see Matthew safely in to the Alexandra Hospital and then return. The doctor arrived minutes after the car had left. He heard the story, examined Nell briefly and Hester perfunctorily, then patted Nell’s head and Hester’s shoulder and advised them to get into a hot bath as soon as possible.

‘You’ve had a pretty frightening experience,’ he said, including both of them. ‘Got any soup? Good. Put it on the stove to warm while you bath; get into the tub together, then go straight to bed. You’re both young and strong, you’ll be right as rain in the morning. And Matthew’s a tough fellow with a head like a bullet. He’ll be fine too, they’ll probably send him home tomorrow.’

Hester couldn’t be bothered to heat up kettles and pans of water for a hot bath so she and Nell had a thorough all-over wash, including their hair, then sat at the table in their night things and drank hot soup. Nell’s eyes were drooping when Hester tucked her up, but she was still awake enough to ask her mother, drowsily, whether concussion was dangerous.

‘No, love, it’s just another name for a bang on the head,’ Hester said cheerfully. ‘Your poor Dad will be so cross that he wasn’t able to help get you out, but he did most of the heavy work before he had the fall.’

‘Mr Geraint was kind, wasn’t he?’ Nell mumbled, eyes already closing. ‘But it was you who reached me, Mum. I’d still be there if you hadn’t got into that crack. Your poor soldiers!’

‘Shoulders, love,’ Hester corrected automatically. ‘And my shoulders will mend. Now go to sleep like the doctor said; we’ll have plenty of time to talk in the morning.’

6

HESTER HAD NO
sooner tucked Nell in and left her, however, than the back door opened and Mr Geraint came into the kitchen. He smiled at her but did not apologise for not knocking.

‘Is she all right? Matthew was beginning to come round before I left, but he was still groggy. He vomited as we got him out of the car.’

‘Nell’s fine; tucked up and probably asleep by now,’ Hester said. She had been sitting in the chair near the range, for the thunder had taken the unseasonal warmth with it and it was quite chilly. She was uneasily conscious of her attire, for she was clad in her long white nightgown, with an old blue cardigan over it which had once belonged to Matthew’s mother. ‘I’ll go to see Matthew first thing in the morning.’

‘I’ll take you in the morning; the child can come with us. No harm in that.’

‘Thank you,’ Hester murmured. ‘Will you visit him too?’

Mr Geraint hesitated, then crossed the kitchen and dropped into the chair opposite Hester’s.

‘On the whole, I think I’d better not. Hester, you and I need to talk.’

‘What about?’ Hester said, genuinely surprised at the suggestion. Nell was safe, she herself had bruised and bleeding shoulders and she ached in every limb, but what could Mr Geraint have to say to her? And why did he look so worried? ‘What about?’ she repeated.

‘About Nell. You know she could be my child, don’t you, Hester?’

‘
Your
child? She’s Matthew’s daughter, John. That
was why we got married.’

‘You got married because you were expecting a baby. My baby, not Matthew’s. And, after today, I want to acknowledge her.’

‘
Acknowledge
her? Tell people she’s yours, d’you mean? You can’t. It wouldn’t be fair on any of us, particularly Matthew.’

‘No, no, I don’t need other people’s approval or otherwise of my actions,’ Mr Geraint said impatiently. He glanced towards her, then turned his gaze on the leaping flames of the fire. ‘But between ourselves. I want her to go to a better school than the village one, mix with a better class of child. I’ll pay the fees, of course. When the time is ripe, I want her to go abroad, learn foreign languages, live a fuller life than is possible here. And I want her to spend more time with me, at the castle. Surely we can arrange these things between us?’

‘Without people talking? Without Matthew becoming suspicious? John, you must have taken leave of your senses,’ Hester said impatiently. ‘As for the school, I think she has a good chance of winning a scholarship to a better school when she’s a little older. And besides, you can’t
know
Nell’s yours, it isn’t possible.’

‘Isn’t it?’ John said grimly. He got up from his seat and went over to Hester, taking both her hands and pulling her to her feet. ‘Darling Hester, why do you think I showed you that picture in the Long Gallery? My great-grandmother is the spitting image of Nell, or rather Nell’s the spitting image of her.’

‘They are a little alike, but that’s just coincidence,’ Hester said stoutly, while her heart lurched uncomfortably. Could Mr Geraint use the likeness against her in some way? She knew that he loved her but that he would use her for his own ends if he had to. And he wanted Nell; she could see it in his eyes as he smiled down at her. ‘I don’t want any trouble, Mr Geraint.
Now that Nell’s safe, we just want to get on with our lives.’