The Tender Glory (10 page)

Leone. I still hate her! Do you understand? When she died it shattered all our lives, not just Huntley’s. Sometimes I think she isn’t really dead but just waiting out there on the cliff with her talent and her beauty and her scintillating wit ready to mock us all, to start it all over again, to play with our lives for her own amusement, as she always did. She had a terrible sort of power, and I believe it lasts.”

It was a wild, unreasoning tirade, driven from Tessa almost against her will, the heart-cry of a young girl goaded to retaliation by jealousy and fear. Alison wasn’t sure what to say.

“You must be wrong,” she began. “You’ve been terribly upset.” She thought how much she herself had admired Leone without even knowing her. “It will all take time, Tessa.”

She was groping in the dark, not really knowing what had happened or how Tessa could be involved, unless she had always been in love with Huntley.

“You think it isn’t true,” Tessa accused her. “Then ask him. Ask Huntley Daviot if Leone isn’t still there, eating up his life! Why do you think he lives out on Sterne like that? Why do you think he makes a recluse of himself most of the time, listening to the sort of music Leone loved? He’s still hers, though she’s dead and he can never have her!”

Stunned and shaken by an emotion she couldn’t understand, Alison moved towards the door.

“Try not to think of this, Tessa,” she begged in a voice she hardly recognised as her own. “Leone’s dead. It’s so final. Huntley can’t go on grieving for her for ever.”

She almost ran from the room and out through the hall into the cold, fresh air, where the afternoon light was already fading beneath the pines. Had she been trying to reassure Tessa or herself?

Ever since she had met Huntley Daviot she had felt drawn towards him, oddly, compulsively, although he had given her so little encouragement. His strength, even his arrogance had compelled her to notice him, and today, on the bridge down there at the foot of the glen, she had felt his nearness as never before. They had stood together looking down at a delicate fern, and something tender and lovely had blossomed in her heart.

Only to be crashed, as Tessa’s love had been crushed? Suddenly she found herself blinded by tears. She couldn’t love this man. That couldn’t happen to her on top of everything else! She had never been in love before, but it must surely be a happier experience than this. Her mother had loved her father and there had been a sort of radiance about Craigie Hill as far back as she could remember. The misfortunes of life had been faced with a fortitude which sprang from their faith in each other, and joy had been two-fold. Their simple pleasures had crowned their lives and the work they did together on the farm bound them more and more closely as the years went by. Her father had been stern when the need demanded, but he had never been unjust. He had never been a harsh man.

Suddenly she stood quite still, remembering all that Tessa had just said and remembering Robin. Where did he come into all this? She was sure now that he did, somewhere.

CHAPTER FIVE

EARLY the following morning Alison rose to prepare for their journey to Wick.

“Your mother’s been awake a long time,” Kirsty informed her when she went down to the kitchen. “I took her up a cup o’ tea at five o’clock. I knew she wouldn’t be sleepin’ well.”

“Thanks, Kirsty.” It was cold, and Alison was never at her best in the early morning. “There isn’t much else to do. I don’t suppose there’s been any word from Mr. Daviot. He promised to try to phone from Golspie last night.”

Kirsty glanced at the clock.

“It’s not much more than six,” she pointed out. “He may have word for you when you go with the milk.”

Alison was half inclined to ask Neil to take the van out on her round for her, but he had been a long time at the milking, even with Kirsty’s help, and the byres were still to clean up. Besides, if there was any flaw in their arrangements it would be best if she heard about it firsthand, from Huntley himself. Neil often got a message completely distorted by the time he delivered it.

“I’ll go to Sterne first,” she decided. “I’m in plenty of time.” Neil had been slower than usual with the van. His rheumatism was killing him, he explained.

“I’m like a weather-cock,” he declared. “I can aye tell which way the wind’s blowin’! ”

This morning he seemed to creak in every joint, moving so slowly that she abandoned the idea of asking him to do anything extra and helped to stack the crates into the van to hurry him on.

“It’s your mother’s big day,” he reflected sombrely. “Will they be keepin’ her in the hospital for long?”

“I’m not sure, Neillie.” Alison’s heart felt like lead. “Maybe

for a week or two. They won’t be able to say till after the operation.”

“Will ye be stayin’ in Wick?” He watched her with an eagerness akin to cunning. Neil liked to do his job in his own leisurely way. “You’ll have to stay till you’re sure, maybe.”

“I’ll be staying tonight, anyway.”

She hadn’t made any arrangements and she realised, suddenly, that she was depending on Jim Orbister. He had assured her that she would be made welcome in his home, and even though she hadn’t been able to contact him she felt that she could depend on his invitation. His sister, Cathie, was a kindly girl whom she remembered from their schooldays, and it seemed she had never married.

Driving faster than usual, she reached Sterne by half-past six. There was no sign of life in the lighthouse. It stood, stark and bare, against the morning sky, and even when she knocked loudly on the narrow door there was still no sound from inside. The collie was going blind, but he certainly wasn’t deaf. Sterne was deserted.

To make absolutely sure she walked round the enclosure to the stone outhouses to look for the jeep. It, too, was missing.

In a wild sort of panic she climbed back into the van. The whole world seemed empty. In spite of the fact that it was a clear, bright morning the sky above her seemed lowering and dark. What was she to do now?

Huntley must have spent the night at Golspie, forgetting his promise, perhaps. Forgetting all about her and her desperate need. It wasn’t like him, but it could have happened.

She delivered the milk to a silent Lodge. Even the Major was still asleep. The house turned blank eyes towards her as she drove away, feeling that her only hope was the kiosk at the foot of the glen. Some time during the night or in the early hours of the morning their connection with the outside world could have been renewed.

Her hands were trembling by the time she pulled up on the far side of the bridge. If she couldn’t contact Jim now the van was her one remaining hope, and even Huntley had said that it would never get her to Wick.

With the kiosk door half open, she turned at the sound of an approaching car. It was the car she had noticed in the open yard at Craigie Hill that first morning when Huntley had called to order butter and eggs from Kirsty. Remembering the faint amusement in his grey eyes when he had first seen her, she turned on him almost aggressively.

“I’m hoping this thing works,” she said. “I have to get through to Wick, somehow.

She had the receiver off its rest even before he was out of the car and was dialling Jim’s number, praying fervently that the line had been restored. Once again she drew a blank. Huntley waited for her to come out of the box.

“I tried to catch you at Craigie Hill,” he said “but you had already left.”

“I had to be early.” Sharpened by anxiety, her tone was cutting. “I can’t really rely on anyone. I wish now that I had gone to Wick yesterday instead of staying here, wasting time. At least I could have hired the taxi in person and been sure of it getting here.”

He slammed the car door.

“You’ve no need to worry,” he said briefly. “I’ll get you there.”

Relief and resentment fought each other in her eyes for a moment.

“It’s out of your way,” she pointed out truculently. “You weren’t really going to Wick.”

“Does that matter?”

“I think it does. You bought Sterne to get away from civilisation, didn’t you? You can’t want us cluttering up your life like this.” Pain and the desire to hurt were deeply embedded in the sharpness of her words. “I should never have accepted your offer yesterday, but I had to because—because I was desperate.”

“And you’re just as desperate this morning,” he suggested grimly. “Whether you’re cluttering up my life or not, I intend to keep my promise. I said I would get you to Wick and I shall. I tried for a connection at Golspie last night, but the lines were down all along the coast. Your mother will be comfortable enough in this.” He turned back towards the car. “I’ve already told Kirsty I’ll call for you at one o’clock.”

The anger and frustration ran out of her like an ebbing tide.

“I can’t even say I’m sorry,” she confessed. “You’re being so kind.”

“Where will you stay?” he asked.

“In Wick? I thought of going to the Orbisters’. Jim assured me I’d be welcome there at any time.”

“How long do you expect to be there?”

“A night—perhaps two.” Her voice shook. “It will depend on the result of the operation. I can’t leave her till I’m reasonably sure.”

“That will take a week, at least,” he said with conviction.

“I can’t afford a whole week away from Craigie Hill. I’ll have to come back and travel every day. The van journey won’t be so bad when I’m alone,” she decided. “It was the idea of taking my mother all that way in comparative discomfort that worried me.” It didn’t apply now. The car he drove was luxurious. It would be fast and warm, eating up the miles without her having to worry about draughts or bumpy springs or not getting to the hospital without a mishap.

“This has taken a tremendous load off my mind,” she told him.

He acknowledged her gratitude with a curt nod.

“I’ll pick you up around one o’clock,” he promised. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to see to. The storm brought down a lot of our trees.”

His task would take him back to Calders, the house full of memories, which he sought to avoid. He turned the car in between the gateposts, but she heard him stop again a little way along the avenue, where the first pine had fallen aslant its companions. He would be working there for the next few days, she imagined, haunted by Leone.

When she reached Craigie Hill her mother looked relieved. “We’ve had Mr. Daviot here,” she said. “He’s coming in his car for us at one o’clock. It’s so very kind of him. He knew you couldn’t get through to Jim on the phone.”

“I met him down at the bridge,” Alison explained. “We still appear to be cut off. The storm’s been worse than we thought.” “Was he going to Wick?” Helen asked, still thinking of Huntley. “It’s a long way to go, just for an obligement.”

“He made the offer.” Alison’s tone was sharp. “Maybe he had no alternative, but he did make it. I was prepared to go through myself last night with the van.”

“And risk the double journey!” Helen shook her head. “No wonder he wouldn’t let you go. You mustn’t try to come through too often—afterwards,” she added. “Not if the weather turns bad again. I’ll be as snug as can be, lying up there in the hospital. I wouldn’t like to think of you taking risks if there was fog about.

“We’ll see.” Alison was quite prepared to take any risk. “It doesn’t apply at the moment. I shall be staying with the Orbisters for a day or two.”

Kirsty prepared an early lunch, which they ate in comparative silence, each busy with their own anxious thoughts. Helen worried about going away, leaving so much to be done, while the outcome of the operation was constantly in Alison’s mind.

They were ready to go when Huntley’s car drew up outside the front gate. Alison had to unbolt the door.

“Dear me! Am I going in state?” Helen joked. “The front door no less!”

“The yard’s wet and muddy,” Alison reminded her. “On you go and I’ll bring your case.”

But Neil was already carrying Helen’s case through the hall. It was the one she had used all her life, too big, really, for its present task. It had gone with her on her honeymoon and on the two short holidays she had taken during her married life. It was an old case, solid but worn, and a hard lump rose in Alison’s throat as she looked at it.

Huntley settled her mother in the front seat.

“She’ll be warmer in there once the heater gets to work.” he decided.

Alison climbed into the back seat, while Kirsty and Neil stood dumbly in the doorway, waiting to see them off. Helen turned her head to wave to them, and when she looked away Kirsty put a corner of her apron to her eyes. Then, sharply, she turned to Neil, chasing him back to work.

The journey proved uneventful. It was a lovely late autumn day, with the deep dales a bright flash of orange and copper and yellow against the brown and gold of the moors. They could trace the path of the storm all the way north, where pines had been uprooted and thrown at crazy angles against each other and where the sea had taken its toll along the coast. Huntley explained to Helen how difficult it was to clear a wood under these conditions when the wrong trees had come down.

“A gale doesn’t pick and choose,” he said. “Although I appear to have been lucky at Calders. We were about to fell on the far side of the river, anyway.”

“Surely you won’t touch the avenue up to the house,” Helen said. “The pines are magnificent. I remember them being planted. Your father took great pride in them.”