The Healing Stream (19 page)

‘Delightful,’ he announced as he got back behind the wheel. ‘Most helpful. There is a restaurant around the next corner and somewhere we can spend the night almost next door to it. It may not be the Ritz but she assures me it is well run and we shall find all that’s necessary. For one night what more can we ask? And who knows what tomorrow will bring, eh, Tessa?’

On that evening, the long drive behind them, Tessa’s optimism was at its highest. Tomorrow she would go to the post office where Giles collected his mail; they must know where he lived.

But by the next day she had to face the difference between dreams and reality. Her school Latin wasn’t going to help her with her enquiries, so Julian wrote a card in Spanish for her to take with her: ‘I am looking for Giles Lampton, who has a house near here. Can you please help me? Thank you very much.’ He and Deirdre were going to the coast some ten miles away, so with hope in her heart Tessa set out on foot. Perhaps by the time they met up at the end of the day Giles would be with her.

She went to the post office; she went to the police station; she enquired in various shops. That evening from the post office she telephoned a weary Naomi.

‘No one has heard of him, Auntie. At the post office one man spoke a bit of English and he said Giles hadn’t been in for post for a long time. They didn’t know where he lived.’

‘Perhaps you ought to try in the surrounding district. Giles would never actually live in town if he wanted to get away from people.’ Then, after a silence, ‘Tessa, look, love, if you can’t trace him, don’t worry about the baby. You and I will give it all the love it needs.’

Tessa felt a hot tear escape and roll down her cheek. ‘That won’t happen. If something dreadful had happened to Giles surely someone would recognize his name. But –’ she hesitated, wanting to tell Naomi how much her support meant, but frightened of words that would give emotion the upper hand – ‘but some of the people in the village would cold shoulder you as well as me. I’d never want to do that to you.’

‘Bugger the people in the village.’ A comment so out of character that they both laughed. It may have helped them through the moment of emotion, but it did nothing to change the situation.

‘In the morning I’ll buy a bicycle. I shall be OK where we’re staying – they’re nice people. Deirdre wants her father to find somewhere near the sea for them to stay; it’s only a few miles on and it’s not fair to have them hang around here; this is their holiday. With a bike I can get to the sort of out-of-the-way places Giles would be likely to bury himself in.’

Neither of them put into words the truth that couldn’t be ignored: if he had been as sincere as Tessa said, why would he have gone to earth in some isolated spot where he couldn’t be found?

Julian and Deirdre’s day proved more satisfactory than Tessa’s. Not only did they rent a house close to the harbour for a month, but the owner agreed to come each day and ‘look after things’, which included doing the laundry. Deirdre was delighted with the plan: meals out every day, everything new and strange to her. It was hard not to think of Naomi and worry that she wouldn’t have time to look after the dairy as well as everything else. But Deirdre found it impossible for anything to cast a shadow on her suddenly changed world.

Julian didn’t dig too deeply into his own feelings. If he let himself reflect on his being in Spain with no companionship except two young girls – or young by his approaching-sixty standard – he was surprised that he wasn’t frustrated. Yet he felt his life had found a new purpose. And here he would let his thoughts go no further.

Tessa had expected to stay on alone in the bed-and-breakfast establishment in town, but when Julian showed her the large-scale map he had bought she realized that Llaibir was the only proper town for miles. Giles could be living north, east, south or west, but if he wanted a post office box for his mail it would have to be in Llaibir. So each morning as soon as she’d cleared away the breakfast – the only meal they ate at home – she was away on her bicycle, always exploring a different area and taking with her the card that Julian had written with the question in Spanish. As her confidence grew she called at any shop, café, or even house if it was in an isolated situation and made her enquiry. But the answer was always the same: a shake of the head and words she came to recognize as meaning they knew no Giles Lampton. In the hybrid Julian and Deirdre played their own part in the search. He called at engineering workshops, at a building site; he stopped the car to ask a group of walkers and on another occasion a party of road builders. But each evening when they reported on their day’s activities they could find no glimmer of hope.

Deirdre had always envied Tessa her lithe, slim figure, so naturally she noticed there was a change.

‘With all your cycling you ought to be getting thin, not fat,’ she said, catching Tessa off guard as they settled for the night in the twin-bedded room they shared. Then, with a sly look that belied the teasing note in her voice, ‘I bet you’re pregnant. All that talk of having to find Giles because you’re scared something has happened to him – and the tale that you and he are secretly engaged. I bet you’ve come to Spain to find him because he’s miked off and left you in the club.’

‘He
didn’t
“mike” off as you so crudely put it. And “in the club” makes it sound horrid.’

‘Ah.’ Deirdre breathed, her expression changing as she looked at Tessa with real affection. ‘So you
are
pregnant. I’ve been wondering for days. Well, I’ll tell you one thing: we’ll find the bugger and see he does the right thing.’

‘It’s not like that, Deirdre. Honestly it isn’t. When he went away I had no idea I was pregnant. It’s just that if he doesn’t come home until the time of my birthday – that’s when we planned to get married – the baby will already be born.’

For a minute or two neither said anything, each pretending to be drifting into sleep. Then Deirdre reached her hand towards Tessa’s bed. ‘Tessa,’ she whispered, ‘I suppose it’s wicked of me to hope he’s hidden himself away where we can’t find him. But when the baby gets born, think how nice it could be. It would sort of belong to
us
.
Can I be godmother? Wonder what it’ll be, a boy or a girl . . .’

Tessa moved her hand across her slightly swollen stomach. Over the weeks as pregnancy had developed from being a suspicion to certainty, her mind had concentrated just on Giles. How strange it was that this was the moment when, for her, the small embryo became a real person.

‘I don’t mind which it is. And wherever Giles is now, even if we don’t find him, he will be back in England almost as soon as it’s born.’ Hearing her, Deirdre thought she said what she did because she was frightened to face the truth. But she was wrong; Tessa’s trust in him never wavered.

But after another week or so Tessa was getting more despondent than she allowed anyone to guess. And she was frightened, too. Each day she cycled for hours, increasingly aware that she was no longer the slender, lithe girl she had been at the beginning of summer. Cycling in the extreme heat was exhausting, but on a day in September although it was hot and sultry, there was a change from the brilliant sunshine. It was the second Monday of the month, an afternoon when the sky seemed low and every turn of the pedals an effort. Although they had no storm, cycling through the quiet countryside she could hear the distant, long rumble of thunder. She guessed that she was about seven miles from ‘home’ when, without warning, her usual stamina deserted her. Her back ached, her legs felt like lead – and the thunder was getting louder. She was riding through an area of almond groves. She knew that’s what they were, not because she would have recognized an almond tree, but she could see where men were working, shaking the branches and letting the nuts fall on to the net they had laid around the base of the trunk. She ought to walk across to them and recite the words Julian had taught her. But she couldn’t. All she wanted to do was sit on the ground, to sit there and weep from sheer weariness. There was no real grass verge, but a foot or two of rough, dry stubble before the wire fence that separated the almond grove from the road. First she laid her bicycle down then, feeling clumsy, unattractive and anything but agile, she lowered herself to the ground.

And that’s where she was when, a few minutes later, a truck rounded the bend and stopped. The driver, a dark-haired young Spaniard, wished her, ‘
Hola, buenas tardes
,’ and she forced a smile to her face and repeated his greeting.

‘Ah! You are English,’ he cried with a beaming smile and managing to crush her confidence that she spoke like a native so long as she stayed within the small vocabulary she knew. ‘My English not good, but I try to use. My
abuela
, she is of your country. Are you in need for help, señorita? Or do you not enjoy the storm that will soon be here?’

‘I was just resting. Then I will cycle home. But I am looking for a friend.’ She spoke very clearly and much louder than was normal, then felt embarrassed that she should have done so to this young man who prided himself on being able to speak her language.

‘I will be your friend you seek.’

At that Tessa laughed. ‘You will certainly be my friend if you can tell me you know where I can find Giles Lampton.’

‘So!’ He held up his hands in a most un-English manner. ‘These almond trees where the men are working belong to your friend’s finca. There it is at the top of the hill behind them. That is where you find Giles. But, I do not comprehend, what is your trouble? Why do you weep?’

‘Don’t know.’ She gulped. ‘I’ve asked dozens of people and no one has heard of him. Just so relieved.’ This time she forgot to speak with that bit of extra clarity used to foreigners. Digging in the pocket of her pleated shorts she brought out a handkerchief and proceeded to mop up. ‘I’m so grateful. Thank you.’ Then for good measure she threw in, ‘
Muchas gracias
,’ which earned her a warm smile from her new friend.

‘It gives to me much pleasure to help you.’ Then, opening the door of the truck, ‘And I am happy to have your acquaintance. I am Timus Rodriguez and my home is on the land which joins to that of your friend.’

‘I am Tessa Richards, Timus. If you own the land next door to Giles I expect we shall get to know each other.’

Timus looked bewildered. Perhaps the pretty girl had come to work for Giles in the making of his books. But staying to a subject he knew, he said, ‘I have made you not to understand. The land that joins to that of Giles is not owned by
me
, but by my father. He and my brother – and me also – we work with the almond trees.’

She only half listened. She wanted to find the gate on to Giles’ land. Her thoughts were racing so fast she could scarcely keep up with them. Imagine his expression when he saw her . . . but perhaps there was something wrong, some reason why he hadn’t come back to England . . . but why should he have come back yet, when he didn’t know about the baby? And why had he never told her he grew almonds?

‘Where is the gate? How do I get up to his house?’ She got to her feet with more energy than she had felt for weeks and, picking up her bicycle, was ready to be off. Timus pointed to a track just beyond the field where two men were busy harvesting the nuts.

‘
Gracias
.’ Never had she wished she knew more words than she did at that moment, but Timus seemed content with her poor effort.

‘If we acquaint together, you and me, I teach you my language. Yes?’

‘Oh, yes. Of course we will know each other now that I’ve found Giles. I must go. When I’ve seen him I have a long way to cycle back to where I’m staying.’ And she was on her bicycle and away before he even started the engine of the truck. Watching her go, Timus smiled, the incident impressed on his memory to be relived later. But by the time Tessa turned into the track towards the finca, for her it was already slotted into the past.

The track was too steep for her to pedal so she abandoned the bike, leaving it on the stubbly verge, and continued on foot.

Nothing had gone right for Giles that day. Right from the beginning he had felt at odds with what he was doing. Ten minutes of dictation then, as he played it back and listened, he had erased it and restarted, not just once but time and time again. That had been the pattern of his working day. He would go for a walk, put the whole thing out of his mind and start again this evening. The first heavy drops of rain were splashing on the ground, but that didn’t deter him.

That’s how it was that as he crossed the courtyard in front of the house he saw someone coming. It couldn’t be . . . was it? But how had she found him? He ought to have got in touch with her. It would have been easier in a letter. Tessa . . . his little Tessa . . . His heart was racing and yet he seemed unable to move as he watched her walking up the hill with her head bent in the effort. Then she looked up and saw him. He wanted to maintain a reserve, make it easier for both of them to see that their lives were poles apart. They’d had a wonderful fortnight . . . but then, he’d had plenty of pleasurable weekends – weeks, even – often in that same cottage . . . When he’d been in the mood for female company he had never been left wanting. He’d told her he was going to Spain and didn’t know when he’d be back – why couldn’t she have understood that was his way of telling her it was over?

And why, as she approached as fast as the steep hill permitted, did he find himself hurrying to meet her? He hadn’t been able to get her out of his thoughts. It was crazy and yet he had no power to stop himself as he held her close.

‘Giles, I knew I’d find you. Now everything will be all right. Been asking . . .’ But her words were lost as his mouth covered hers. Talking was for later; in those first minutes neither of them wanted anything more than this. And only half acknowledged there was the thought at the back of his mind that if she’d come all this way to find him it would be cruel to send her away. Shropshire had given them a glorious fortnight; just imagine the joy they could find shut away from the world here. That would give him time to make her see how different their lives were from each other, lead her gently to realizing that the consuming passion they shared had nothing to do with the day-to-day routine of living. Where was she staying? Wherever it was they must go and collect her things – she would stay here with
him
.