Deception (2 page)

The
road dipped and suddenly Thea was up to her waist
in
a fast-flowing stream. The current, though swirling,
wasn't
strong, so fortunately she was able to wade through
it.
The light was fading so rapidly it was getting difficult
to
see where the water was deeper in some places than in
others.
It lay on the road in pools and the sound of it rush
ing
down the hillsides came to her even through the dark
ness.
It was wild country, full of heather and hills and loneliness. Curiously she
wondered why such isolation
should fill her with a kind of
excitement, rather than terror.
Was it just that she was
too wet to feel frightened?

At
last she came to a house—not a very welcoming one,
by
the look of it. It was too big, too punt, and, with only
one
small window lighted, it reminded her of a sleeping
giant
opening one eye at the sight of an approaching
victim. A glimmer
of whiteness behind it could have been
water or merely a trick
of the fast-fading light. Whatever it
was it was soon
swallowed up in the encroaching darkness.

She
knocked on the door, her fingers so frozen she found
it
difficult to lift the heavy knocker and not caring for the
way
in which the sound of it echoed inside. Even from here
she
could hear it booming eerily. It was a lonely, hollow
sound,
as if the house was empty. Panic-stricken for a
moment, Thea
tried to consider what she would do if it was.

Relief
poured through her, bringing a little warmth back
to
her veins when the door opened. She saw two bright
dark
eyes and heard a young voice bidding her good
evening.

'Did
you want something?' the owner of the voice, a
small boy, asked, without inviting her
in.

'Yes,'
she replied, through chattering teeth, deciding not
to
stand on ceremony. She was startled to find so young a boy here—he
couldn't be more than seven or eight, but he
was obviously very self-contained.

'Have
you come about the job?' he enquired suddenly,
before she could go on.

'What
job?' she repeated after him, numbly.

'We're
trying to find a housekeeper.'

'Oh,
I see.' She had forgotten about that. 'Well, not really ...' He sounded so
anxious she found a straight
denial impossible. 'I did see your
advertisement, though,
at the end of the road, under the bed and breakfast sign.'

'Oh, that?' He
shrugged thin shoulders. 'No one bothers with that any more.'

Dismay made Thea
stiffen. 'Then wouldn't it be kinder to take it down? It's very misleading.'

'We've been going to.'

'I see.' A shower of
rain from behind her blew straight into the boy's face. She noticed he didn't
so much as flinch. It was almost as if he had been taught to endure whatever
life chose to throw at him. Strangely disturbed, Thea frowned. His parents were
probably too strict—a thought which prompted another. It might be easier
to speak to his parents as soon as possible. 'Are your father and mother in?'
she asked, trying to be diplomatic.

His small hesitation
was barely noticeable. 'My father is.'

'Do you think I could
speak to him, then?' Casting a hasty glance over her shoulder at the wild
bleakness of the glen, she added quickly, 'Even if you've stopped taking in
paying guests, I think I'll have to ask if'you could put me up, as I don't
think I'd be able to find my way back to Fort William tonight.'

'Then you'd better
come in.' With an uncertain flicker of heavy lashes, the boy stood aside, but
Thea could see he was wary. The hall was cavernous and dark. Shivering afresh,
she felt no warmer here than she'd done outside.

The boy didn't move.
When she glanced at him enquiringly, he said slowly, 'I'm not sure if I'm
doing the right thing. You won't be able to see my father, you see. He's ill in
bed.'

'HI?' Disconcerted,
she stared at him, 'But if your daddy's in bed, who's looking after you?'

'I don't need anyone.'

'There must
be—someone?'

He sighed, patendy
tired of her questions. 'There's only old Martha, but she can't look after
herself. She'll have to go soon, Father says, if we can't find a housekeeper.'
 
      

Small
wonder they hadn't! Cold and hungry as she was,
the scornful thought
flashed through Thea's head. No
wages and a house this
size to look after, not to mention a
young boy and old lady.
His father must believe in miracles
—if he hadn't found one yet!

'What's
your name?' he forestalled her almost similar
query.

'Oh,
I'm Thea Andrews,' hastily she introduced her
self. 'Are you a
Murray?'

'Yes,'
his well-shaped dark head tilted proudly, 'I'm
Jamie, after my grandfather.'

He
must be the son of one of the brothers. Hesitantly
she
said, 'I don't want to disturb your father if he's ill, but
I'm
sure he wouldn't mind, Jamie, if you showed me where
I
could change out of my wet clothes. I have dry ones in
my rucksack.'

This
he was eyeing with some interest, but all he said
was, 'I can take you
upstairs if you like.'

As
if deciding suddenly to trust her, he led the way
across
the huge hall, up the wide staircase. Simultaneously
they
halted outside a bathroom door. 'I'll wait downstairs, in the kitchen,' he
informed her, turning away.

With
a perception which surprised her, Thea knew he
was frightened.
'Is your father very ill?' she asked gently.

As
Jamie threw her a glance, very dark and anxious,
Thea knew she was
right. 'He's quite ill,' he nodded.

'Hasn't
the doctor been?'

'No.'

She
controlled her impatience with difficulty. 'For good
ness' sake, why not?'

He
looked as if he considered she should have known.
'The lines are down
and the burn is up.'

'So
you've no telephone?'

'No.
We won't have until the men come to mend the
wires.'

'Then
who's looking after your father? Martha?'
 
      

'No,'
his voice hardened scornfully, 'she's gone to bed
because she's old. I'm
taking care of him.'

'You?'
Thea was unable to hide her startled reactions. It
seemed
incredible that a boy of his age should be anywhere
near
a sickroom, let alone trying to manage it!

She
regretted her brief exclamation when his face fell;
she
had not expected him to look so chastened.

'I've
done my best,' he mumbled unhappily, 'but I sup
pose
I haven't been able to do much. I made some soup, but
it's
a bit of a mess. Martha tried some before she went to
bed and said it was
only fit for pigs.'

Thea
frowned, deciding not to give Martha full marks
for tact. This boy might try to act
like an adult, but no
one could mistake him
for anything but the child he was.
'Look,'
she offered impulsively, suddenly not able to bear
such hidden pathos any longer, 'if you wait until
I change,
I'll see what I can do for
your father. Unless, of course,
your mother will be home by then?'

'No,'
his green eyes were very steady, 'she won't be com
ing home.'

The
way he said it almost made Thea shiver as, without adding anything more, he
turned again to make his way
downstairs.

To
her surprise, because the house seemed so old and neglected, the water was hot.
Quickly she stripped off her wet clothing to take an equally quick bath. She
feared she
might be taking advantage of hospitality that hadn't yet
been offered, but she wouldn't be able to help anyone if
she
got pneumonia. The clothes in her rucksack, owing she
guessed
to her immersion in the burn, were unfortunately
all as wet as
those she had just taken off. There seemed
nothing for it but to
borrow the towelling robe which hung
behind the door. It must
belong to a man, as the shoulder
seams came nearly down to
her elbows, and the width of it
might easily have gone
round her twice. What did it matter? Indifferently she attacked her damp hair
with a
warm
towel. She was lucky to have found anything in this sparsely appointed house!

As she ran downstairs
again, it struck her as strange that, while she could remember nothing, she had
known instinctively where to find the bathroom, just as she found her way,
unerringly to the kitchen, as though in her mind she followed the trotting
ghost of a five-year-old child.

In the kitchen she
found Jamie by a large wood-burning stove, curled up half asleep in an old
armchair. Compassion caught at Thea's heart, as she stood for a moment
watching him. In sleep, without the dignity he assumed when awake, he looked
oddly pathetic, and hard on the heels of pity she felt the first stirrings of
anger against his father, who was probably suffering from nothing worse than a
heavy cold. After the soaking she had had, she might be more in need of care
and attention than he was. As if to emphasise this she sneezed, and Jamie's
green eyes flew open.

Immediately his small
face brightened, as he found the sight of her reassuring. Thea concluded, and
rightly, that, with her hair dried and combed, she appeared more human than she
had done a little while ago.

She smiled, which had
its effect, had she but known it, on even so young a man. Involuntarily he
smiled back before, obviously thinking he had unbent too far, his boyish
eagerness was replaced by a scowl.

Quickly, to divert
him, she spoke lightly. 'Hello, Jamie, I'm back, but I've not managed as well
as I thought I would. I'm afraid I've had to borrow this robe. The clothes I
took off are still wet and so are those in my rucksack.'

'That's all right,' he
replied carelessly. 'It belongs to my father.'

'I thought it might.'
She hurried on, as this information, though not unexpected, disturbed her, 'I
wondered if it would be a good idea to go and see your father now?' She wasn't
quite sure whether it would be or not as, apart
from Grandfather Andrews, she had scarcely ever seen a
man in bed, and certainly not a stranger. Yet, if
Mr Murray was very ill, mightn't it be on her conscience for ever if he passed
away before morning and she had done nothing to
help?

To
her utter astonishment, Jamie was alarmed. 'You
can't go and see
him,' he exclaimed. 'He'd be absolutely
furious if I let you.'

'But—if
he's sick?'

'It
wouldn't matter, he'd find out. He always does.'

Staring
at Jamie's pale, stubborn face, she racked her
brains fiercely.
Her dislike of Jamie's father was growing, but she tried to be sensible. She
must think of poor Jamie.

'I've
had some nursing experience,' she said rashly.

'Oh
...' Jamie's eyes widened as he slowly digested this
information.
'So you're one of those, a nurse! Why didn't
you say so?'

'Well,'
deciding to skip any slight discrepancies, 'I've
hardly had a chance, have I?'

Alarm
feathered in her-breast as he shook his head but
became almost
tearfully excited. 'You'll be able to make
him
better, Miss
Andrews? I'm so pleased I let you in.
Father will be, too,
won't he?I mean, when he wakes up
and finds you're a nurse.'

'I—I
should think so,' she swallowed an accumulation
of guilt in her
throat. 'And please call me Thea.'

'I
will,' he agreed, so absendy she knew he wasn't with
her.

Thea's face softened.
The recipient of such devotion
might not
deserve it, but it was very touching to see. 'After.
I visit your father, I'Jl make you some supper
and then take
you to bed.'

'I
can take myself to bed, thank you.' The dignity was
back
with a vengeance, as he proudly lifted his small chin.
'Now,'
he said manfully, 'if you'll just come with me.'

About
to follow, Thea suddenly hesitated. 'Don't you
think we should
take him some tea or something? Or might
it be better to ask what he wants first?'