All the dear faces (75 page)

*

The moon came out as Reed reached High Side, just where the road branched off to Hause. He had struggled through the fast flowing floodwater, at first to his ankles, then, as the level of the lake rose on his left, to his knees, the wind threatening to tear his clothes from his body, the very hair from his head, the rain pouring across his ice-cold flesh with the force and persistence of the ice-cold overflow of the waterfall where he had made love to Annie. The deluge coming at him from the fell to his right, bringing down dead cows, sheep, horses, chickens, pigs, gates, rocks, whole trees, spinning wheels, sledges and smashed carts, must be constantly watched for if anything heavy caught him he could be carried on down across the low-lying fertile pastures and into the lake. The dark had a hidden menace in it, though it was possible to see the raging shapes of the trees of Dodd Wood and the meandering flatness of the water-logged road ahead. He kept his head bent and his shoulders bowed, his eyes searching for his way, his weary legs moving slowly – too slowly – through the surging water. It deepened steadily, moving up to his thighs so that his progress became even more sluggish. He would have to swim soon if the flood continued to rise, he thought, almost idly, as if the idea of not getting there at all had not even crossed his mind. Annie was waiting for him. She was in a danger so menacing it could scarcely be contemplated and he must reach her. It was as simple as that. He could not even stop to rest, exhausted as he was, for he had waded through four miles of raging floodwater. She needed him. Annie needed him, and it was the certainty of that which kept him moving, dragging one heavy leg after the other through the thick, impenetrable water. It was like trying to walk through syrup, but no matter,
syrup it was, and if it needed wading through then wade through it he would. He would not despair, he would not, and as he lifted his head for a moment to get his bearings the rain stopped and the moon raced out from behind a cloud. Just like that. As though a barrier had been flung across the sky, it stopped and he wanted to shout out his relief. He had been disorientated but now he could see. He had been lost but now he was found, and he was exultant for it would be easier now. He tried to remember when he had last slept, last eaten but he honestly could not bring to mind when that might have been. On the ship, perhaps? The Packet ship Rainbow which had brought him from New York . . . when? . . . yesterday? . . . the day before that? . . . Jesus . . . when
?

God, but he was tired, and as the rebel thought whispered into his mind he glared about him, just as though someone had spoken the words out loud. His blazing eyes fell on rocks and tumbled trees, on more dead, skinned sheep, on still bundles of clothing which he did not care to investigate, and the flame in them was hot and hating for nothing would keep him from her this time. He thought he could be losing his mind. Many would say so, to love a woman as he loved Annie Abbott, and perhaps he was, but whatever it was she had lit in him over six years ago it would not let him rest, would keep him on his feet until she was here, held safe in his arms where she belonged, damn her.

“
Give up?" he snarled into the teeth of the biting wind, as if some ghostly voice had suggested it. "Give up? Never!" and his voice was whipped back over his shoulder as he began to crawl on all fours up the slope from the road and on to the walled inlands which led to Browhead Farm
.

*

"We'll have to go, lads. It's no use, but we'll have to go before it's too late." Her own voice startled her, it seemed so loud, and all three animals looked up at her, the dogs' heads cocked, their ears pricked. Three pairs of eyes were bright with intelligence, but all three animals cast uneasy
glances at the water which was creeping across the floor towards them. Annie bent to them, fondling their ears in turn, her heart heavy with sadness. She had lost Royal tonight, she was sure of that, and was she to lose these three as well? She could not leave them here. She could only coax them, or fling them out of the window and into the water, praying to some God, or gods in which she found she could really not believe, that they would make their way to safety. She herself meant to climb up on to the roof and tie herself to one of the chimney stacks, she had the sheet torn up in readiness, and perhaps they would come with her if their fear did not panic them into swimming off into the storm water
.

She was just agonising over the advisability of wearing her warmest clothing, or virtually none at all, since she would get cold and wet anyway, and perhaps clothing would drag her down, when something struck the farmhouse such a colossal blow she distinctly heard the stonework shatter and the building move. Both dogs began to bark frantically. They milled about her in terror and Dandy leaped up the curtain to crouch on the window pole, her tail lashing, and Annie felt a distinct urge to do the same. Her mind was an ice-cold, blank and senseless thing, incapable of making a decision, and she turned frantically, first to the door, then back to the window. The farmhouse was breaking up, shifting, sliding down the fields to the lake where it would come to rest in the deep waters and her with it. She had no time . . . she must hurry. . . the window . . . oh, please . . . someone . . . Reed .. . "Reed . . . Reed . . ." She was screaming out loud, her own voice striking at the strangely tilting walls of her bedroom . . . but she needed him . . . she wanted him. . . Reed ..
.

She could not remember making any conscious decision but somehow she was at the deep, recessed window, dragging at the tiny half-opening, pushing it out into the teeth of the wind which still howled across the front of the farmhouse. It whipped right into her face, the spray it carried lashing against her and wetting her through
before she had even climbed out on to the ledge. The floodwater was about six inches below the sill and she knew she had but minutes to spare. She could feel it behind her creeping up over her feet and clawing at her ankles and the two dogs moaned in terror, but, sensing with the natural instinct of her kind that escape was to be found only now, only here, Dandy went first, twisting her boneless body through and up, clawing her way on to the roof.

“
Good girl . . . oh, good girl . . . now Blackie, come on, boy . . . Bonnie . . . come here to me . . ." She shrieked their names, hardly able to hear her own voice above the roar of the wind and the water it churned, but they did not move.

“
Come to me,
Blackie
... come on, Bonnie . . . good boys . . . come here, come here . . ." but neither would obey her.

“
I can't leave you . . . I just can't leave you .. . please . . ." She began to weep . . . "come here . come. . .
”

Inspiration came as the water reached her knees. Both animals had leaped on to the bed, their eyes mad with fear. She knew she must go, now, for the water was nearly up to the sill. A minute, no more and it would pour into the bedroom, not only through the door, but the window, a great surge through which she would be unable to struggle.

“
Come by,
Blackie
... Away to me, Bonnie." Her voice was steady and firm and at the familiar words both dogs instinctively moved, one to the right, the other to the left, swimming towards her round the walls of the room until they reached the window.

“
Good boys, out you go," and without hesitation, trusting her, they jumped cleanly into the racing torrent beyond it.

“
Wait for me, lads," she called. She took a deep breath and followed them, at once sinking down into the black, clogged depths of the water
.

He sobbed in agony as he hung on to the gatepost from which the gate had long gone. He could see the farmhouse. It was there no more than a hundred yards away, a light flickering in one of the bedroom windows, but no matter how hard he fought he just could not get beyond this point. Three times he had crawled on his hands and knees through the boiling, mud-filled fury of the waters which howled down the fell and across the inlands, clutching at any handhold which would bear his weight, and three times he had been swept down again to the road. His clothing, but for his undergarments, had been torn from his body and he knew his flesh was bleeding from many places. His skin was scraped raw and he felt as though his hair had been wrenched from his scalp. Three times he had done it, that tiny light which he knew Annie had lit beckoning him on, and each time he had been flung down the slope again, his limbs dragged about like that of a rag doll, his head crashing and banging against shattered drystone walls, and the thousands of tons of stone which had been gouged out of the mountain by the force of the water
.

He did not know how he survived it, for surely the body cannot take the punishment his was suffering, but each time he had crept to his knees and through his bitten tongue and lips, howled her name to the broken skies. All along the valley and in every farmhouse on the fells, his own included, men and women would be fighting for their lives as the deluge tore down walls, carved out new ravines, destroyed bridges, spewed out landslides which would bury farms and outbuildings for ever. Huge sections of the fellside would be laid bare as every beck and tarn, stream and river overflowed in a wild and headlong turmoil of water. He had seen bodies go by him, swept down to the lake which was at a level never before known, drowning trees at its edges which had once been tall and proud. He had seen it, suffered it, drowned in it almost, but still he would not let it stop him. Not until he was dead. Not until the last flicker of life in him, that last flame of his love for Annie was quenched, and even then his spirit would wing its way up this bloody hill to strengthen her
.

He could feel the gatepost lean towards him, the strong deep roots of it which some farmer had secured for eternity, beginning to tear from the ground and he looked wildly about him for something, some anchor to which he might cling, and from there to another, and another, fighting his way until he got up to her. Dear sweet Christ .. . let me . . . please . . . she is so near, so near . . . the farmhouse, the tree beside it . . . both there, strong and safe and her within it . . . the light . . . the light . . . oh, Jesus . . . the light. . . the light had gone. . . No! . . . No! It couldn't be . . . not Annie . . . not his Annie . . . his love . . . perhaps she had blown it out . . . but why? .. . perhaps . . . ?

“
ANNIE . . ." he roared, furious with her, ready, the moment he had her standing beside him where she belonged to let her see that he would not, absolutely would not be treated with this bare-faced defiance . . . why? .. . why would she not do as he wanted her to . . . why? Savage he was in his anger . . . at her, at Annie who had left him . . . Annie, dear God, Annie, why has the light gone out . . . why? . . . Had she climbed into her bed and carelessly snuffed the rushlight whilst he was killing himself ? struggling to get up to her . . . Jesus, oh Jesus, let her be peacefully asleep in her bed . . . why had the bloody light gone out? He could not bear the not knowing, nor the images that darkened glow had conjured up. The possibility that . . . he could not face it . . . Annie, fighting the water . . . the creeping water . . . her lovely face contorted . . . gasping . . . drowning .. .

“
ANNIE . . . ANNIE . . ." he roared again, throwing back his head in torment, feeling the gatepost drive its thick splinters deep into the palms of his clinging hands. The grief and agony in his voice seemed to stifle even the hateful roar of the waters for a moment, echoing about the devastated fells. "Annie . . ." His voice sank to a whisper and he bent his head, ducking it under the water since he no longer wanted to live . . . not without .. .

“
Reed . . ." He did not hear his name on the wind
.

For ten seconds he held his head beneath the ragingtorrent but the instinct bred in all living creatures, to survive, no matter how the will denies it, brought him threshing to the surface, choking, demented, cursing. Well, if he could not do away with himself here where she had died, then all he had to do was let go of the bloody gatepost and let the floodwaters take him .. .

“
Reed .. .
”

He thought for a bewildering moment that he had actually been successful. That he had drowned and so had she, waiting for him on the other side so that they could go together to wherever it was .. .

“
Reed . . ." and that was no heavenly voice calling to him to hold her hand as they met St Peter at the bloody pearly gates. It was her . . . her. . . Annie and she was coming full tilt towards him, her mouth wide and screaming, borne on a wave of scum coated water, clinging to what looked like an oak chest, its lid still tightly closed –they knew how to make a decent chest in the old days, he remembered thinking, marvelling on the ways of the human mind and its capacity to be distracted by trivia at times of great danger – then he had her in his arms, the well-built chest beneath them both, going as though it was a sledge on runners, down the long slope towards the road at the bottom.

“
Hold on to me," he yelled, ready to laugh with the sheer magical joy of it, not caring really if they were both smashed to pieces or drowned in Bassenthwaite Lake since they were together, together. She was in his arms, clinging to him, needing him, needing his strength, which was suddenly prodigious, to save them both. God knew where they would end up, but by the look of it it might be in the little churchyard of St Bridget's, which was appropriate if you thought about it. If they drowned it would be side by side, and side by side they would be buried there, and if not he would take her into the church, no matter what its flooded state and extract from her her promise, give her his, force the damned words from her somehow until their wedding vows could be exchanged properly and in full view of the community of Bassenthwaite. She was
here in his arms, still, both of them, in the direst of danger, but by God, she'd never get away from him again
.

They came to rest by the church porch. The water still poured into the lake a hundred yards or so further on but it was slackening as the fury of the elements died away. There was debris lying all about them right down to the water, grotesque shapes only half-seen in the lightening gloom of the new day. Timber beams and walls of stone, old joists and chicken coops, stiff-legged bodies of animals wedged against one another, trees and a solid mass of mud in which a cradle was jammed testifying to the tragedies which had taken place this night
.

They stood up slowly, stiffly, neither of them recognisable except to each other. They were both almost naked but for a shred or two of clothing which had not been ripped from them in the maelstrom of their flight down the fell and they shivered violently
.

Annie looked steadily into Reed's eyes, penetrating with her own the goodness of the love she saw there. They had known passion, a fierce enchantment which had been indescribable, and would again, but this was stronger, sweeter, good. He watched her, waiting, but not for long, his expression said. He had waited too long as it was. Seven years and in that time she had achieved all that she had set out to achieve. Seven years and in a few nightmare hours it had all been lost again. Browhead. Did it still stand? Her flock. How many survived? Her farm, her pride, her satisfaction in what she had carved out for herself in this hostile land, among these hostile people. It was all gone and amazingly, did it matter? Her life was here, with this man. Reed Macauley
.

He held out his hand to her and she took it submissively. He smiled, knowing it would not last, her submissiveness, his teeth a white slash in his heavily bruised face. He led her into the church and up the aisle, moving through ankle deep water in which prayer books and footstools floated, until they reached the altar steps.

“
Kneel," he commanded her and when she did, knowing what was to come, he knelt beside her. They made a
strange sight, Annie Abbott and Reed Macauley and yet the beauty in them, in their eyes and softly smiling faces was very real.

“
Now say after me," he began
.