Too Close to the Sun (60 page)

She pressed on, and eventually came to a spot where the edge of the paddock diverged from its parallel route, the way ahead being lost in a thicket of small trees and shrubs. It was time to move out onto the road. She found a suitable spot in a gap in the hedge, and by crossing a narrow water-filled ditch, got through to the other side, with relief feeling her boots striking the firm soil of the road.

Eventually she reached the outskirts of the village, where she turned into the yard of Mr Renshaw, the fly proprietor. To her great relief she found that he was at home and available for hire, and in minutes she was in his carriage – ‘You’re in an ‘urry, ma’am,’ he said as she climbed aboard – and being driven off to Berron Wick station.

At the station she got the train for Corster, and in her seat sat watching the familiar scenery go by, mentally checking off the landmarks. She would never, she said to herself, come this way again. Liddiston … Upper Callow, and at last, Corster.

There was no free cab waiting when she got out of Corster station, and it was too far to walk with her bags. She must wait, then, for one to come along. But eventually a cab was there, and she was getting in and giving the driver Kester’s address.

At her destination she paid off the driver and as the carriage drove off she stood on the pavement before the house, a Georgian building with tall, elegant windows and
cream-painted facing. Pushing open the gate, she walked up the path to the front door and rang the bell.

It was answered by Kester’s cook-general, Mrs Love-grove, who said at once: ‘Why, Miss Har—Mrs Spencer – what a surprise to see you here.’

‘Hello, Mrs Lovegrove,’ Grace blurted out. ‘I’ve come to see Mr Fairman. Is he at home?’

‘I’m sorry, ma’am, but he’s out.’

At these words Grace felt that she could weep. ‘Do you know when he’ll be back?’ she asked.

‘No, I don’t – though I think it won’t be for some little while yet.’

Grace gave a little groan. It was worse still. ‘Can you tell me where he’s gone?’ she said.

‘He mentioned something about going to Marshton, though exactly where, I couldn’t say.’

‘Oh, dear,’ Grace said, ‘it’s imperative that I see him as soon as possible.’

‘Well, ma’am, I don’t know what to suggest. But you look very – well, rather distraught, if I might say so. Would you care to come in and wait for him, ma’am?’

With some relief Grace thanked her, followed her in and deposited the bag in the hall. Her reticule she kept with her as Mrs Lovegrove led the way into the sitting room. ‘Perhaps you’d care to take off your cloak, ma’am,’ she said. ‘I’ll get the girl to bank up the fire a bit and make you a cup of tea.’

Grace said she was most grateful, and moved to a chair near the fireplace where the fire was burning low in the grate. She would keep her cape on for a little while, she said.

As Mrs Lovegrove went away, Grace stretched out her hands to the embers.

A young maid came in after a minute and banked up the fire and stoked it, and then with a little bob went away
again. Grace sat as if mesmerized, watching as the lengthening flames licked at the wood. Mrs Lovegrove came in with a tray set with teapot and china, and put it down on a small table at Grace’s side. Was there anything else she could get for her? the woman asked, and Grace thanked her and said there was not. Mrs Lovegrove withdrew.

Grace took off her cape, laid it on the sofa nearby and then poured herself some tea. She sat sipping its welcome warmth, though barely aware of its taste. Where was Kester? He must come soon; she could not wait for ever. But the time went by and still he did not come.

An hour after the maid had taken away the tray, Mrs Lovegrove came into the room and asked if Grace would like some more tea, and perhaps also a sandwich. Surely, she ventured, Grace must be hungry. Grace assured her that she was fine, and needed nothing more. And she waited.

It was after two when at last Grace heard footsteps in the hall and then the door opened and Kester was coming into the room.

‘Grace,’ he said, stepping urgently towards her. ‘I could scarcely believe it when Mrs Lovegrove told me you were here.’

‘Oh, Kester –’ Grace got up as he approached and stepped towards him.

He held her, his arms around her. ‘What is it?’ he said anxiously. ‘What brings you here like this?’

Urging her to the sofa, he sat beside her and, as quickly as she could, she told him of what had taken place, seeing his eyes widen and his frown deepen as she revealed the scope of Edward’s suspected treachery in his first wife’s death, and of her fears for Billy.

‘We must go to the police,’ Kester said.

‘There’s no time for that,’ Grace said. ‘And in any case,
what could I prove? Nothing. I could prove nothing. They’d say it’s all in my head.’

‘Then what do you want me to do? I’ll do whatever I can, you must know that.’

‘I’d like you to lend me a little money, Kester. If you will – enough for Billy and me to get away somewhere – some place where Edward won’t find us, won’t think of looking for us. Will you do that?’

‘Of course, yes, but I can do more. I can –’

‘No, please, I don’t want you to do any more than that. That’s all I need. I don’t want you to become involved in any way.’

‘But, Grace –’

‘No. You have a life here with Sophie and nothing must be allowed to jeopardize that. You don’t know him as I do. He hates you already, suspecting how I felt for you, guessing what you are to me in my life.’

‘I’ll let you have some money, of course I will,’ he said, ‘but where will you go?’

‘I don’t know yet. I’ve packed a bag – it’s out in the hall – and now I must get to Billy’s school. He’s safe there for the moment, but if I’m not there to meet him he’ll head on back to Asterleigh. I must get there before school comes out, and then the two of us must get away. I don’t know where yet; I haven’t decided. But I can work that out on the way to Culvercombe.’

‘I don’t have that much money in the house. I would need to go to the bank. I can go there now and –’

‘Kester, there isn’t time. I must get to Culvercombe.’

‘Well, then, I’ll get funds for you first thing in the morning. Then I’ll help you get away somewhere. And when this is all over we’ll be together. You understand?’

‘Yes. Yes.’

‘But for the time being you and Billy can stay here overnight.’

‘No, Kester, that won’t do. This is the first place he’ll come looking for me. We’ll have to go somewhere else. A hotel or somewhere – but not one around here. Believe me, he won’t be content simply for me to walk out of his life. He’s made that very clear.’

‘All right, then, I’ll get together what money I have to hand – there’s a reasonable sum – and then we’ll go and get Billy.’

‘It’s not necessary for you to come with me. I told you: I don’t want you to become any more involved than is absolutely necessary. With a little money I can find a hotel for us tonight. Then we can make final arrangements tomorrow.’

She clasped her hands together and got up. Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, she said, ‘I can’t stay any longer; I have to go. His school comes out at four. I have to get there before then. I can’t take the chance of him going back to Asterleigh.’

‘Right, I’ll get my coat and then we’ll go. We’ll leave your bag here for the time being and pick it up later, when we get back.’

She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand, palm out. ‘It’s no good your protesting, Grace, I’m coming with you and that’s that.’

He went out of the room and returned a minute later wearing his coat, his grey ulster, and even through her fears one part of her mind recognized it, the coat they had lain on together when they had made love …

‘Come,’ he said, ‘we’re ready.’

Together they left the house.

They must get a cab for the station, Kester said as they started off, and they looked anxiously up and down the street as they walked. There was none immediately available, however, and they had to walk half a mile before one pulled up at Kester’s signal.

Grace sat back sighing with relief as the cab set off for the station. At last they were really on the move.

They had to wait over half an hour for the train, but eventually it drew in and they climbed aboard. In the carriage they entered sat a woman whom Grace knew vaguely by sight, and for a moment she felt a stab of self-consciousness at being seen with Kester. But she thrust the feeling aside; what did it matter what anyone thought? Let them think what they wanted; it was only important that she did what she had to do.

Culvercombe had no railway station, so it would be necessary to travel on to the one beyond: Coller Down, from where they could travel back to Culvercombe by cab. At last, after what seemed an eternity, the train pulled in to Coller Down and they got out.

Fate seemed to be against them here again, for there was no fly available immediately, and they had to wait ten minutes or so before one came into the station yard. As Grace climbed aboard, Kester gave the driver their destination. Moments later they were setting off.

Culvercombe was a picturesque but simple place with the school situated in a turning off the high street. It was ten minutes to four when the cab pulled up outside the school gate and Kester asked the driver if he would wait; they would be wanting, he said, to go on back to the station.

Grace felt a great sense of relief that they had got there in time. Had they arrived after school had come out, she thought, she could see them walking in Billy’s footsteps, hurrying to catch him up before he arrived at Asterleigh. But they were in good time, and just for a few moments she could afford to relax.

Not long afterwards, a minute after four o’clock, the main door of the school opened and the children began to
come out. At once Grace leaned forward, her gaze skimming the heads of the children. The boys and girls straggled out into the winter afternoon, wrapped against the cold, some singly, others in pairs, and Grace watched, waiting for Billy to appear among them.

Within five minutes most of the children had gone by, chattering among themselves, happy to be out of school again for the day. But Billy’s face had not been among them. Grace waited. And now the surge of children had diminished and only two single children emerged, a boy and a girl, both hurrying away to join their friends.

‘Where’s Billy?’ Grace murmured.

‘Is there another door?’ said Kester. ‘No,’ she said, ‘they all have to come out by the main gate. I’ll go in and see where he is. He’s probably stayed behind to help his teacher.’

With her words she drew her cape about her, opened the door of the cab and stepped down.

Entering the school gate, she crossed the yard and went into the building, finding herself in the hall that she had first seen when accompanying Billy on his first day at the school. There was a cloakroom on the left and a classroom opening off to the right. The door to the classroom was open, and she could see the rows of desks and benches. As she looked in, a woman appeared in the doorway on her left. Well over thirty years old, she had a plain face with her hair pulled back in a bun. Grace recognized her at once as Billy’s teacher, Miss Merlin. Dressed now in her coat and hat, the teacher carried a bunch of keys in her hand. As she locked the door she turned and smiled at Grace: ‘Good afternoon, can I help you?’

‘I’m sorry to trouble you,’ Grace said, moving to her. ‘I’m Mrs Spencer, and I’m looking for my young brother, Billy Harper.’

‘Billy?’ The woman looked Grace up and down. ‘Oh, he’s
gone. He left about two hours ago.’ She frowned slightly, obviously somewhat puzzled.

‘Gone?’ Grace said. ‘Gone where?’

Miss Merlin’s frown deepened. ‘Well, I was told he went to you.’

‘By whom? I don’t understand. What’s happened?’

‘Just about two o’clock,’ the teacher said, ‘Billy was in class when a man came for him. He said he came with a message from you, that Billy was wanted at home, urgently.’

Grace felt a chill run through her, and the raising again of the beating of her heart. ‘I sent no message,’ she said. ‘Who was it came for him?’

‘He didn’t give a name, I’m afraid. The man who came for him was short, dark-haired, rather wiry in build. About forty-five or fifty. They drove off together.’

‘Thank you.’ Grace knew all she needed to know.

Grace thanked her again, and leaving the older woman standing there, a frown of perplexity on her brow, went back out to where the cab was waiting.

The driver, seeing her approach, got down and helped her up into the carriage, and closed the door behind her. Kester looked at her anxiously as she sat down beside him.

‘Well?’ he said.

Grace found that she was trembling. ‘Rhind,’ she said. ‘Edward’s man, Rhind. He’s been to the school and taken Billy away. It happened about two o’clock this afternoon. Billy’s teacher just told me. Apparently Rhind told her that he was wanted at home by me.’

‘And he’s taken him away.’

‘Yes, they went off in the carriage. To Asterleigh, without doubt.’ She pressed a hand to her breast. ‘Edward must have come back home sooner than he anticipated.’ She gave a little nod. ‘I must go to Asterleigh. Now. I must go now.’

‘Of course.’

As he moved to speak to the driver, Grace put a hand on his arm. ‘Kester, you can get the train back to Corster. I told you, I don’t want you to be involved in this. Please.’

‘It’s no good your protesting,’ he said. ‘You can’t go there alone. I wouldn’t consider it.’ Turning from her, he spoke up to the driver. ‘Take us to Asterleigh House, on the Berron road, if you will.’

‘Very good, sir.’ The driver touched his hat, flicked at the reins, and they were starting off again.

Dr Ellish had come to the house only to find that his supposed patient was not in residence, and had departed in high dudgeon. Edward, on his return not too long afterwards, had found that Grace was missing and had flown into a rage. How, he asked Rhind, could he have been so idiotic as to go rushing off for a doctor when that had been such an obvious ploy to get him out of the house. And now his wife had gone away, and there was no telling how he was to get her back. Rhind had seen his master angry before, but it had been nothing to the fury that he now found turned upon him. It had occurred then to Edward that perhaps there was a way. Perhaps, he thought, the boy was still in school.