Unknown (18 page)

'Of course he's come back,' Mrs Pugh answered mildly. 'He wasn't gone five minutes. You know he won't stir until he's had the bacon rinds when I'm cooking breakfast.' An appetising smell of smoked bacon came from the direction of the grill. 'He reckons they're his starters for the day, the same as our cup of tea is for us, don't you boy?' She scraped the rinds into a feeding bowl standing in a corner of the kitchen floor, and the sound brought a long grin and a happily waving tail through the door, and the dog made straight for the awaited titbit. Marion heaved a sigh of pure relief. Ben Wade's warning had done its work well, she thought ruefully. She found she was trembling.

'Come and have your own cup of tea, now.' Mrs Pugh gave her a searching look, and drew her own conclusions from the dark rings that made smoky hollows under Marion's eyes, in telling contrast to her white face.

'I'll take him for a proper walk when I've had my cup of tea,' she promised. She curled grateful fingers round the warmth of the cup, glad of its comfort. She felt unaccountably shivery since she got up, probably because she was tired.

'You can take him when you've had some breakfast, not until,' unexpectedly Mrs Pugh put her foot down. 'It's no good walking the hill if you've got no food inside you,' she said sensibly, and at any other time Marion would have wholeheartedly agreed with her. This morning the last thing she felt in need of was food. 'And if you're going on the hill, take your mac with you,' the housekeeper continued, 'the weather forecast says there's rain on the way later today.'

'It's bright enough now.'

'Best do as she says, miss,' a cheerful voice from the doorway agreed with the housekeeper, and the milkman reached inside and put half a dozen bottles tidily on the slab provided for the purpose. 'My gammy leg's been playing up ever since last night, and it's never let me down yet about the weather.' He limped off, whistling, taking with him his shortened limb, the result of a severe break, which proved a remarkably accurate barometer on which most of his customers had come to depend.

'Just a piece of toast will be enough.' She hurriedly prevented Mrs Pugh from preparing a generous helping of bacon and eggs for her consumption. 'They'll do for the dining room.' Reeve and Willy would eat them, she doubted if either Reeve's sleep or his appetite had been impaired because of last night's episode, she thought tardy, and wondered whether she meant when he was facing the crowded bar-room, or later, when he was in the drawing room, alone with her. With an effort she pushed the thought of him from her mind. The fact that it was an effort annoyed her irrationally, and she sighed with impatient exasperation. His image seemed to be indelibly imprinted on her thoughts, and she could not erase it.

'I must do something about it,' she muttered irritably.

'Why, is something wrong with your woodcut?' Mrs Pugh enquired, and Marion realised she must have spoken out loud. She really would have to take herself in hand, she decided, Reeve had got her talking to herself now.

'No, there's nothing wrong. Just something I mustn't forget to do,' she prevaricated.

'I thought it was coming along nicely the last time I looked at it.' Mrs Pugh took a good deal of interest in her work, and until now Marion had welcomed her friendly helpfulness.

'It's coming along fine,' she declared untruthfully. Since Reeve had been staying at the Fleece, she had scarcely touched it. 'I'll do an hour or two's work on it later today, I'll take Gyp for his walk first.' She did not feel inclined to work with her chisels while her fingers trembled so. She dared not risk spoiling what she had done so far. She surreptitiously slipped the last of her unwanted toast between the dog's willing jaws and escaped from the kitchen and Mrs Pugh's all-seeing eye.

'Don't forget your mac,' the older woman called after her.

'I won't,' Marion called back, and turned towards the door which led into the public part of the house. Her mac hung on the hallstand there, she had forgotten to take it back to her room. It would be easy enough to reach it while Reeve and Willy were in the dining room, and she could go out by the front door. She was half way into the hall when she heard Reeve's voice speak to Willy from the landing at the head of the stairs.

'I'll come up with you today for an hour or so.'

She did not wait to hear any more. She clicked her fingers urgently to the dog, and backed hurriedly out again. 'Come on, Gyp, this way!' To her relief he followed her without his usual friendly woof of response. He was still crunching the last of her toast, and it effectively kept him silent as he cavorted about her feet She closed the door behind her, and thought quickly. If she went out through the walled garden, she could use the gate in the wall and the footpath beyond it to gain the fells. It would take her a bit out of her way, but it would mean a longer walk for Gyp, so he would not mind, and as Reeve was coming downstairs with Willy he would not see her through his bedroom window, which like her own looked out over the garden. She breathed more freely as she closed the outer door behind her, the walled garden made a perfumed sanctuary effectively covering her retreat.

'Leave Tibby alone, you bully!' she scolded as Gyp, his toast safely swallowed, made a noisy rush at the tabby cat. It fled spitting for the wall, its tail fluffed out like a bottle brush, and Marion grabbed the dog's collar and hauled him away. 'She's out of reach, so leave her in peace,' she commanded sternly. The tabby settled on the top of the garden wall, secure among the climbing roses, which Marion saw with a pang of regret were already beginning to fade with the advancing summer. There would perhaps be one more vase full of buds to pick, and that would be all until the second blooming in the autumn. Where would they all be, then? she wondered bleakly. 'Go on, run off some of your energy.' She let the dog out of the door in the wall, and followed more slowly herself. 'You ought to be ashamed, chasing cats at your age,' she gave his ears an affectionate rub as she released him. 'You're behaving like a two-year-old!' But if he was still spry enough to enjoy chasing the cat, might he not also enjoy chasing sheep? she wondered worriedly.

She skirted a patch of cotton grass, avoiding the swampy ground that its presence betrayed, and absentmindedly noted that the small white tufts lay almost horizontal against the freshening wind. She glanced at the sky. There were one or two mares' tails forming against the blue, presaging the rain that the milkman had already forecast.

'I wonder if I ought to go back for my mac?' she murmured. She was not too far away from the house yet, and Reeve and Willy had been going out, would probably already be on their way. She looked round for the dog.

'Gyp, wait for me!' she called to him sharply. To her dismay the animal was already half way up the fellside, his speed belying his age. Scattered bunches of sheep lay in his path, and a sharp stab of fear shot through her. She forgot her mac, and Reeve, everything but the dog, and Ben's dour warning. 'Wait for me!' she cried, and hurried upwards as fast as the steep incline would allow. Gyp waited for her. With docile indifference he stood and allowed her to catch up, and remained close to her when she started off again. That was one advantage of having an ex-sheepdog, she thought thankfully, they were accustomed to instant obedience, and the habits of a lifetime remained.

'We'll go as far as the waterfall, and then turn back,' she told him. It was pointless to return for her mac now, if she carried on she could be back at the Fleece long before the rain came. Determinedly she gave herself up to the enjoyment of the walk. It was good to be moving, it helped to calm her mind, and in some measure at least to blot out the tensions of the night before. It was necessary to keep moving, she realised, as she climbed higher. The wind had a keen bite to it that penetrated her sweater and slacks with a coolness that was welcome now, while she was on the move, but would rapidly become uncomfortable if she stayed still for long. There was no sign of Ben on the hill, and for that she was grateful She did not feel she could endure any more of Ben's company for the time being.

The sound of the fall when she reached it made a musical background to the murmurous life of the hill, a low-tuned combination of creature activity that enhanced, rather than broke, the silence, and she leaned against a boulder to watch the tumbling waters and rest for a moment before turning back. Gyp flopped beside her, panting, his upsurge of energy temporarily spent. Perhaps she was worrying unnecessarily. The dog did not
have
to turn rogue, simply because Ben suggested it. She let her eyes drift lazily upwards, her artist's senses appreciating the weather-sculptured forms of the scattered rocks that followed the line of the fall. Something white moved among the higher ones, close to where she had rested when Reeve came to her, but on the edge of the actual drop of the fall. It moved again, and her attention sharpened.

'I must know what it is.' She jumped to her feet, her vitality restored by curiosity. She picked her way carefully upwards among the tumbled rocks. Whatever it was, it was right over the edge of the fall.

'Why, it's my handkerchief! The one I dropped.' The one she could not stop to pick up because Reeve held her, forcing her to go with him towards the helicopter. Now was her chance to retrieve it. A quick smile touched her lips. So much for Reeve's arrogance! She would get her handkerchief back despite him. 'It's a bit far out....' She paused and eyed it cautiously. The rocks were loose on the edge of the waterfall, and it would behove her to be careful. The wind had blown the lace-edged square on to the twigs of a stunted bush growing out of the thin surface soil, and overhanging the fall.

'I can just reach it, I think.'

She climbed down carefully, and she might have succeeded in retrieving it if the rock beneath her feet had remained stable. She stretched her arm over the void, her fingers within an inch of her quarry—half an inch—a quarter—and the sideways pressure of her foot upon the piece of rock proved too much for the gravity exerted by its weight. Just as she grasped the lace border of her handkerchief, the beleaguered stone rolled. An agonising pain shot through her ankle, she just had time to wonder if it was broken, when an empty space of rushing water and nothingness raced towards her. She dropped the handkerchief. She did not see this time where it went, and there was no time to care.

Her frantically grasping fingers found sharp rock, grabbed and held on, the roughness of it lacerating her skin until the pain in her hands rivalled that in her ankle, but she held on grimly. She dared not let go. She glanced down and hurriedly averted her eyes. Her body dangled over the edge of the fall and her feet scrabbled desperately to find a hold. Her damaged foot found one, but the pain when she put pressure on it was more than she could bear. For a second she felt her senses swim, and she exerted all her willpower to hold on to consciousness. At all costs she must not faint. It could cost her her life.

Fear caught at her with icy fingers, that nevertheless had the effect of restoring her failing senses. If she could pull herself a little higher, she could edge her whole body on to a bigger slab of rock just above and to the right of her, and gain enough security to rest for a while until the pain in her ankle eased and she could decide what best to do next. Cautiously she felt round with the toe of her other shoe, seeking a foothold. The rocks at the side of the fall were slimy with spray, and her foot slipped, adding to the strain on the twin agonies that were her hands. The second foothold gave her more purchase, and taking a deep gulp of air she began to ease herself upwards.

If the rough point of rock she held on to behaved in the same manner as the stone she had stood on.... For a second or two, the possibility terrorised her into frozen immobility, and she blinked to clear her suddenly blurred gaze, but even her fear-sharpened vision could detect no flaw in the granite under her hands. She inspected it closely, and found it was as grey, and as solid—as rock! Her forehead felt damp, and she rested it for a moment or two against her sleeve, rubbing it clear. The familiar feel of the soft wool had a comforting effect, and it gave her the courage to seek another foothold. Briefly she swung by her hands again, but this time it was deliberate, and controlled, and within a few seconds her cautious seeking found another toe hold higher up.

'I shouldn't have panicked,' she derided her very natural reaction scornfully. 'It's easy enough, if I keep calm.'

It was the reverse of easy, but her years of travelling and self-reliance stood her in good stead now, and she kept her eyes on her goal and inched herself slowly upwards, and to the right, deliberately stopping now and then to rest, until with a final supreme effort she pulled herself up on to the flat slab of rock that lay back for a couple of feet into the hillside, and offered a haven where she could rest for a while before continuing her still not inconsiderable journey to the top, and safety.

She rolled over on to her face, almost sobbing in her thankfulness to have reached this far. The slab was cold under her, damp from the spray of the fall, and sunless in the enclosing narrow confines of rock, and she shivered and got slowly to her knees. She must not remain here for too long, the cold would stiffen her limbs and make climbing out even more hazardous. She glanced upwards, and realised with a thrill of horror that there was no way she could climb out from where she stood. She had been so intent on reaching safety that she had not noticed she was climbing into a trap.

A rocky overhang sloped out over her head like a roof. It blotted out her view of the sky as effectively as it would hide her from the sight of anyone walking on the fell above her. As effectively as the sound of her voice calling for help would be drowned by the constant roar of the waterfall.

'Reeve!'

She knew he could not hear her but she called just the same. His name fell instinctively from her trembling lips, a desperate plea for help that her numbed mind felt only he could give.

'Reeve!'

She heard Gyp whine. The high, sharp sound penetrated the roar of the water, her only link with the warm, safe world outside. And then there was only the noise of the fall. Although she called, twice, the dog did not give tongue again. In spite of her own predicament Marion wondered uneasily what Gyp was doing. Would he get bored when she did not appear, and go home? Perhaps relieve his boredom on the way by harrying a few sheep? She knew he had only to taste the undisciplined excitement once, to be irretrievably lost.