Larkrigg Fell (2 page)

‘I’m not.’

‘Good girl.’

Oh, but she had pined. Her heart had felt split into two jagged pieces. But Sarah was right. Perhaps if she were more outgoing she’d be as popular as her twin. Yet how could she trust a man ever again? Not that the question would arise. She was rejected goods now, as well as plain, she told herself, trying to make light of it.

Now, sitting on this wall, already worrying about her future here in Lakeland, Beth pulled the slide from her hair and tucked it into her pocket.

A swathe of chestnut hair fell forward over her cheek and she drew her fingers through it, pushing it back for it only to swing forward again, lifted by the breeze.

Sarah’s words, for all their cruelty, had an edge of truth to them. No young beau had ever come begging her for a date, as they did for her sister. Several had been arranged for her, but she’d always managed to ruin everything by sitting like a tongue-tied fool, not having the first idea what to say to the chosen victim. They’d never asked her out again, and in the end Sarah and Mom had stopped trying. Which was why she’d been so delighted when Jeremy had taken such an interest in her. Both families had been thrilled with the match. Yet now she came to consider the matter, it wasn’t really surprising that he’d grown so quickly bored with her.

Beth drew in the clear, mountain air, banishing the grey thoughts swirling in her head like mist. If she was destined to grow into an old maid, so be it. She’d be old and lonely, crabby and unloved, like the dreadful stories Mom told of her own grandmother. How Rosemary Ellis ever found a husband, Mom often said, must have been a miracle.

This trip back to their childhood roots had been her mother’s idea, and on a burst of desperation, Beth had agreed. The flights had been booked and she’d written to Meg and Tam, the twins’ grandparents at Broombank, to tell them of the intended visit. It would be the fulfilment of a dream. She’d always longed to return to the rural idyll of her childhood, which still lived in her head like a blue and green haze.

Sarah had reluctantly given her blessing to the plan on the grounds that it would restore Beth to full health, though she’d much rather have gone with the Frobishers to Venice and the Italian Lakes. Throughout the long flight, Beth had kept apologising for this fact, saying she could have managed on her own, even though they both knew this wasn’t true.

So here she was. Lakeland spread out before her like a magic carpet, scratchy lichen beneath her fidgety fingers, heart thudding with new hope. Not quite ready to rebuild her life, since that would mean setting Jeremy aside for ever, but hoping this holiday might at least give her something else to think about for a while, a breathing space in which to heal.

And breathing in the crystal fresh air of Lakeland, her eyes aching from the splendours of its majestic beauty, Beth decided that she might even come to enjoy it and be happy again, in the end.

Sarah was thinking quite the opposite as she walked round the back of the farmhouse, rattling windows and doors, wondering why she’d ever agreed to come.

Broombank seemed smaller than she remembered. But then they’d been no more than seven or eight when they’d last seen it.

It was a long, low, whitewashed building that had looked out over the fells for three hundred years or more. An awesome thought to a girl brought up largely in America. She remembered a big inglenook fireplace that took up the length of one wall and smelt of smoked hams and pine logs. Two oak staircases and a host of rooms with creaky floors, all different shapes and sizes. But she could see nothing through the narrow windows, blanked out by solid shutters within.

Broombank would have been a ‘statesman’s’ house, so named to indicate the free status of its owner. A house of note in its day. To Sarah, a humble farmhouse nonetheless, which wouldn’t excite anyone, she decided. Except Beth, of course. And Mom.

Mom had told them so many stories about the wonders of Broombank that Sarah had been intrigued enough to agree to come and see for herself. Now she wondered what all the fuss was about. But then Beth was the romantic one, always asking questions about how Gran had built up her own sheep farm against the wishes of her family, as if in some way she could emulate this achievement, or discover some sort of rural bliss. What a silly dreamer she was. No wonder Jeremy had run away. Frightened him half to death with her talk of a house and children, and her white-picket-fence mentality. Totally unrealistic expectations of life, in Sarah’s opinion.

Now she rattled a window with growing impatience, peering in on the dark interior. ‘Damnation!’

Half the building was not house at all. Though the old Cumbrians might still call it the down-house, part of it comprised a long barn, and another lay at right angles to the main house. But that too was locked. Firmly bolted. Not a sign of a living soul anywhere.

There were several other outbuildings. These too yielded not a flicker of life beyond a dozen or so hens and one large, black and white cockerel strutting about the yard. An eerie kind of emptiness emanated about the place, like an echo of loneliness. What was she doing here pandering to Beth’s failures and fancies?

Irritation rose again, hot and furious in her breast. How dare they be abandoned without any sort of welcome? It’d been exactly the same at the station.

‘I expected a horde of relatives to greet us, with luggage carts, transport, hugs and a warm welcome,’ she’d complained, quite justifiably in her opinion.

Since there were no young fit males around for her to inveigle upon to do the service for them, Beth had carried the heaviest bags off the train, without a word of protest. A fact which Sarah accepted as the norm but which irritated her beyond endurance nonetheless.

But then Beth was used to giving in. It had ever been so, even when they were children. As the elder by seven minutes, Sarah had quite early on adopted the right to make all the decisions, have the first choice of plaything and even take Beth’s, should her own be broken or lost. As with dolls and bicycles so it became, in time, with boys. And why not? If it had ever mattered to her twin, she would surely have said so.

‘Don’t you want to see it?’ Beth had remarked, not for the first time on that interminable journey. ‘Larkrigg Hall? Our inheritance? Left to us by our famous, or rather infamous Great Grandmother Ellis. Aren’t you excited?’

‘Not particularly.’

Despite every effort on Beth’s part, Sarah had managed to hold on to her protesting sulks. ‘What do I care about a childhood inheritance extracted as an act of vengeance from a vindictive old woman? You might be suffering as the jilted bride, Beth, but did you have to ruin my own lovely holiday as well? Old houses are quite unimportant. I could be on the Rialto Bridge by now, do you realise? Gazing into some lovely Italian eyes.’

‘I know,’ Beth had unwillingly agreed, looking so satisfyingly guilty it had quite cheered Sarah up.

‘Well then. And it’s probably falling down. You do realise that, don’t you?’

‘I dare say you’re right.’

Sarah had dusted an old seat with her scarf, then smoothed her hands over her bottom, wishing there was a man around to admire how good it looked in the tight jeans. ‘I do wish you didn’t get these crazy ideas.’

‘You might like it. It might be beautiful.’

‘I might change my mind, abandon you and head south, over the blue horizon.’

‘Don’t say such a terrible thing, not even as a joke. You know how I need you. I couldn’t face anything without you beside me.’ The panic in the high-pitched voice was almost flattering, and tears welled in the soft eyes.

‘Oh, don’t be such a baby. Where else would I go? Besides, it’s too late. The Frobishers have gone without me.’ Sarah had glanced wearily around at the dull station buildings and applied fresh lipstick to her already scarlet mouth. ‘Who wants Venice when I can be in cold wet Lakeland?’ an unmistakable touch of asperity in her tone. Then she gave a sudden grin, as if by expressing the dark anger she had cleansed herself of ill humour and become agreeable again. ‘I’m here though, aren’t I?’

‘Under protest.’

‘Yeah. And at each other’s throats the whole damned time. Twins, my ass. Non-compatible, let alone non-identical. Now will you move? Pick up that flight bag and find us a taxi before I scream.’

‘Maybe we should have settled for college in Boston, after all.’

‘You’d have hated it. I’d have hated it. At least they’ve put the flags out for us. That’s nice.’

‘It’s for the Silver Jubilee.’

‘Why should you know so much all of a sudden?’

‘Mom warned me. She said if we were invited to any celebration parties to be sure and stand during the National Anthem.’

‘Right now it looks as if we won’t even be invited in for coffee.’ Both girls had suddenly found this extraordinarily funny and collapsed into a fit of the giggles. Sarah, for one, felt all the better for it. Then, ‘Whoops, a porter has arrived. He’s giving us the glad eye. Wait here while I go and chat him up.’

She’d shaken out her jet black curls and sashayed over to the uniformed attendant, lips curving into her most winsome, poor-little-me smile, violet eyes teasing from beneath long lashes and after several seconds of stunned paralysis, the young man had been galvanised into action. Moments later the twins and their luggage had been stowed aboard a taxi.

As they bowled out of the station, Beth had seen a bright yellow mini drive in, screech to a halt, and a girl with spiky blonde hair leap out and wave frantically at their retreating vehicle. Sarah was too busy lecturing to notice, so she sat back in the leather seat with a sigh and said nothing. It always seemed the easiest course.

After ten minutes of fruitless rattling and knocking, Sarah gave up.

‘Come on.’

‘What?’

She stood beside Beth, bursting with impatience as usual. ‘No point in hanging around. Doors and windows all locked and bolted. Nobody home. End of story.’

Beth frowned, feeling very slightly let down. ‘But Meg...’

‘Has probably gone off to market or however sheep farmers spend their time. Not even Tam is here. Come on, will you?’ She tugged at her sister’s arm. ‘We can at least do some exploring.’

‘We ought to wait. I expect she’ll be back soon.’

‘Oh, do come on. Anything’s better than hanging about. The thought that the house is so near is beginning to tantalise even me. You wanted to see it, didn’t you? Our inheritance? Well, why not now?’ Cool, violet blue eyes gazed out over the fells as if they could make it appear out of nowhere.

‘Someone might be living there.’

Sarah shook her head. ‘Nope. Mom says it’s been empty for years. Come on.’

Now that she was faced with seeing the house, Beth was suddenly afraid. What if reality were nothing like her imagination? What if it were no more than an illusion, a fairy tale built up over years of childish dreaming? Still she hesitated, then realising Sarah meant to go without her, swiftly changed her mind. ‘Oh all right. Wait for me. I hope it isn’t too far, that’s all.’ She scrambled down from the wall, brushing the dust from her denims. ‘I’m tired.’

‘The exercise will do you good after all that travelling. Best thing for jet-lag. Two miles by road, Mom said, but we can take a short cut over by Brockbarrow Wood and on past the tarn. Maybe it’ll all come back to us and we’ll remember the way. Experience a deja-vu.’

‘I remember so little of our visits here as children.’

Beth set off up the sheep trod in her sister’s wake. What would it be like? Damp and filthy as Sarah predicted? Or beautiful and serene as she’d always imagined in her dreams. And how would seeing it in the flesh, or rather bricks and mortar, affect their lives? Would they find happiness there? A shiver ran down her spine but Beth told herself it was only because the sun had slipped behind a cloud and the blueness was now washed with grey, like a water colour. A breeze buffeted them, less kindly.

‘It might rain.’ she warned.

‘Rubbish,’ Sarah said, now so far up the track that Beth had to run to catch up.

When the yellow mini careered into the yard there was nothing to show of the twins’ presence but two suitcases and several bags crowding the small porch. ‘Oh drat. Not again.’

Tessa Forbes glared at the two suitcases and experienced an overwhelming desire to kick one. She’d never seen any quite so big in her entire life. Plus two flight bags, shoulder bags, coats and all the detritus of travel. Then she considered her mini. How many elephants can you get in a mini? Wasn’t that the old schoolroom joke? Answer, one grizzling infant, mouth covered in the remains of chocolate buttons, strapped into a car seat. One roll of chicken wire to block up holes in the fence to stop the hens escaping, and possibly, if she ever caught up with them, two travel-weary females. The luggage wouldn’t fit. That’d have to be collected later.

Why hadn’t she borrowed Meg’s van? Even if she’d got to the station on time she couldn’t have fitted them all in her ancient tub. What had she been thinking of? Tessa clasped her fingers into the spiky tufts of her hair and gave an anguished scream. The wind brushed it away as if it were of no significance.

‘Why do I volunteer to do favours when I am so entirely scatter brained? And why can’t people sit still for half an hour?’ she groaned. Tessa went and gazed up towards Larkrigg Fell, certain she could see a blob of colour moving on the hillside.