A Kiss and a Promise (45 page)

To be sure, as soon as Nan’s mother had heard her story, she had insisted that a group of tinkers be sent to the river and this had been done, mainly, Nan thought, to keep her mother quiet. There had been little hope by then, of course, since darkness was falling and rain still drummed steadily on the hard earth. When the men returned to say that the river had now overflowed its banks in several places and was thundering towards the sea in a torrent of dirty foam and debris – broken branches, great chunks of bank and even some dead animals – Nan and her mother had to agree that there was no point in searching further. Indeed, Nan, who had seen the pair being carried along at a terrifying rate, had never doubted for one moment that they were dead. When she crawled into her tent that night, having refused to eat any supper, she was aware of an enormous weight of loneliness. Ginny might have resented Nan’s guardianship, but Nan had been truly fond of the other girl and had wished her nothing but good. She did not see why Ginny should have tried to escape, for since the chief had said he would take her all the way to her father’s farm, what did it matter if he then asked her father for money and stock to make up for his having taken good care of her? If only Ginny had said she meant to run away, I’m sure I could have talked her round, told her it were a daft thing to do, Nan told herself wretchedly. Oh, Ginny, Ginny, you were me best friend and now you’re drownded and I’m so lonely!

Just before she fell asleep, Nan thought about Conan, another friend. She had not been as close to him as she had to Ginny, but they had had a good deal in common. They had both been outsiders, trying to get in, and Conan had been happy to chat to Nan sometimes, of an evening. And Nan had been happy, in her turn, to begin to teach him the language that the tinkers spoke. She had picked it up piecemeal herself, but she had begun to teach Conan properly and had been pleased when he had proved to be an adept pupil.

Beside her, the tinker girl known as Missie called out in her sleep, something about water in her mouth, and then began to mumble, and Nan guessed she was having a nightmare and realised that she, Nan, was not the only person to mourn the passing of Ginny and Conan. Missie’s mammy had a tongue like a whiplash and was quick with a cuff or a blow, and the younger girl had sometimes hung around with Ginny and had seemed to want to be friends. In the dim light, Nan could see Missie’s tear-wet cheeks and was a little comforted. She put her arm around Missie’s shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. ‘It’s awright, Missie, Nan’s here,’ she whispered. ‘You go off to sleep like a good gal, an’ Nan’ll take care of you.’

The younger girl muttered something to the effect that she had been dreaming she was drowning in the river, then curled up within the circle of Nan’s arm. Very soon, both children slept.

When Conan had seen the water close over his head for a second time, a sort of fury possessed him. Whilst he had lived with Auntie Deb, he had been the best swimmer amongst all the neighbourhood boys. From the time he was three or four, he had been swimming in the canal whenever he got the opportunity. He had never feared water, had considered it his friend, and now it had turned on him and was showing him how strong it was and how puny and ineffectual was Conan O’Dowd. And what was more, if he didn’t do something fast his friend Ginny would be nothing but a dead body in a tumble of soaked clothing, for he knew that very few girls ever learned to swim. Above him, he could see the silver gleam of the surface and fought his way up to it, realising as his head emerged that he was in what appeared to be a deepish pool under some overhanging trees. The river here was calmer, for it was out of the main stream, though he could hear the furious roar as the water surged past this quieter spot.

He could not see Ginny and was about to set out again when he happened to glance towards the bank and there she was, on a little bit of sandy shore. She was lying on her back, her head turned to one side, and he reached her in two strokes and hauled himself out beside her. He realised at once that she was not breathing and turned her on to her face, beginning to squeeze the water out of her as he had been taught, whilst muttering over and over: ‘She mustn’t die, don’t let her die! It weren’t her fault … it were all
my
fault. Oh please, whoever you are, don’t let her die!’

He was not praying, or not in any accepted sense of the word, but he was definitely pleading and the pleading paid off. Ginny made a terrible, hoarse, crowing sound, spewed a great quantity of water on to the little beach, jerked as convulsively as a landed fish and began to breathe.

Conan sat back on his heels and felt a wide and ridiculous grin spread across his face. A surge of hot and dizzy exultation filled him. She was alive! It had all been his fault, he had acknowledged to himself, but now he had made up for it. If it had not been for him, she would have croaked; even if she did not know it, he did. And suddenly, he wanted to tell Ginny that he was sorry, had never meant her harm, and was just about as glad as a feller could be that she was alive and kicking.

Though Ginny was now breathing, however, she still had not opened her eyes, so Conan bent over her and pulled her into a sitting position, with the vague idea that she would breathe more easily upright. She had clearly not recovered consciousness completely, for she leaned against him, a dead weight in his arm, and he was just beginning to worry, and to wonder what his next move should be, when her eyelids fluttered apart and she began to look round her, and to speak.

‘Where…? What…?’ Before he could answer, her gaze fell on the river and she gave an enormous, convulsive shudder. Plainly, she had remembered her ordeal. Conan moved round so that he could look into her face, saying gently as he did so: ‘It’s awright, queen, you’re safe wi’ me. Wharrever was you doin’, tryin’ to cross the river where it ran fastest and deepest? I thought you were a goner, so I did, but we was dead lucky if you ask me. The current swirled the pair of us into this here pool …’ He pointed. ‘And when we was both ashore, I remembered me old life-saving class at the Burlington Street Baths and squeezed the water out o’ you, like what I were taught.’ With the arm which still encircled her shoulders, he gave her a bit of a squeeze. ‘Feelin’ better? If so, I think we oughter to move, ’cos we’re both soak in’ wet an’ I don’t want to save you from drownin’ just to have you die of exposure.’

It was then that he noticed the look in Ginny’s eyes and realised, uncomfortably, that it was neither a nice nor a friendly look. In fact, she was glaring at him as though he was her worst enemy, and at the same moment she shrugged off his encircling arm. ‘Leave me alone, Conan O’Dowd,’ she said fiercely, though her voice was thin and weak. ‘Saved me from drownin’ indeed! Why, if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have had to try to cross the river. Oh, you think you’re so great, makin’ up to your friends the tinkers, plannin’ to sell me back to me own daddy, but I’ve got your measure, boy! An’ now you think you’re goin’ to take me back to the band, but you’re wrong, you ain’t goin’ to do no such thing! So you can leave off lyin’ an’ pretendin’ to be me friend, ’cos all you are is a cheat and I won’t go one inch towards the tribe, not even if I have to throw meself back in the river.’

Conan was dumbfounded. He had known Ginny to be a girl of spirit but had thought her both gentle and easily led. And the ingratitude of it really hurt him because, though he had meant to recapture her when he had first realised she was missing, in fact he had changed his mind as soon as he saw her trying to cross the river. And he bleedin’ well
had
saved her from drowning, and though he didn’t expect to get a medal he had thought she might at least thank him. However, since this was not to be, he had best explain that he had no intention of dragging her back to the tribe.

He began to speak but stopped short before he had said more than a few words. If she was listening, which he doubted, he realised that it would take more than words to convince her of his change of heart. There was a mulish set to her mouth, and though she was shivering with cold and reaction he could read contempt in her eyes. Sighing, Conan got to his feet and held out his hands to her. ‘C’mon, we’ll find ourselves a nice dry barn full of hay and snug down for the night. There’s cows in the fields but my cup has gone; I suppose the river tore it off of me belt, which means I’ve nothin’ to milk a cow into. But I reckon anyone settin’ eyes on us would let us have a sup o’ milk and a bite o’ bread because when we tell ’em we nigh on got carried away by the flood they’ll feel sorry for us.’

Tinkers usually carried a cup on a leather thong. Ginny, not being a tinker, and being totally unable to milk a cow in any case, had never possessed one, but she did nod briefly at Conan’s words before struggling to her feet. Conan admired the way she forced herself to take a few wavering steps but he could see she was very unlikely to get far from the river without help. He put an arm about her waist and when she tried to pull away, told her roughly that she’d best behave herself. ‘I seen a barn not more’n fifty yards away,’ he told her. ‘If you let me help you we can both reach it, but if you’re goin’ to pretend you can make it alone, we’ll neither of us see tomorrer mornin’. Good God, girl, you’re shakin’ like a bleedin’ leaf an’ cold as ice. I know you don’t trust me, you won’t listen to what I were tryin’ to tell you, but you’ve gorra let me get you to shelter.’

For a moment, Ginny compressed her lips and continued to try to drag herself up the slight slope, but then she sagged against Conan, clearly recognising the truth of his words. With his help, she managed to reach the barn and Conan, with an enormous sense of relief, pushed her into an untidy mound of hay, covering her well over with it and then draping a couple of old sacks on top. ‘I’m goin’ to find the farmer what owns this barn,’ he said briefly. ‘I’ll get some grub o’ some sort … no, hang on a minute!’

Even as he spoke, Conan pounced on an object half hidden in the hay. It was an old meal scoop, dinted and rusty, but Conan knew at once that he could milk a cow into it and get the milk back to Ginny a good deal faster than if he had to find a farm, explain his needs to the farmer, and then carry a cup of milk some considerable distance without spilling it. For though Conan regarded himself as tough, he was beginning to feel extremely cold and was fighting a lethargy which was tempting him to curl up in the hay and simply sleep and sleep.

‘Shan’t be long,’ he said cheerfully to his companion, hefting the meal scoop. ‘You stay there and give your arms an’ legs a rub, try to get yourself warm. I’ll be back in two ticks.’

It was horrible leaving the shelter of the barn for the windy darkness, since night had now fallen and, though the rain had ceased, the wind had a sharp nip to it. But Conan knew that they needed to eat or drink before they slept, so he plodded determinedly on, and presently was able to return to the barn with the scoop more than half full of rich, warm milk. It had not been easy, getting that milk from a cow whose mind was set on moving slowly across the meadow, cropping the sweet grass, and it was not easy getting back into the barn, for the door had managed to slam shut and Conan was afraid to stand the meal scoop down in case it tipped and he lost his booty. But he managed it in the end and was chagrined to discover, when he lifted the sacks off her, that Ginny was fast asleep. She was curled up in a tight little ball, shivering as she slept, and Conan stood for a moment, wondering whether he should wake her. The shivers decided him. He leaned over her, calling her name, and shook her briskly, though he could only do so with one hand since the other was fully occupied with the scoop of milk.

Ginny awoke from a frightening dream in which she was being chased by a herd of maddened, red-eyed bulls, to find Conan bending over her and holding what, to her frightened eyes, looked like a huge axe above her head. She had honestly intended to run away from the barn and hide herself somewhere else as soon as Conan had left, but this had proved quite impossible. She could not move a limb without pain and realised that she would have to stay with Conan until at least a measure of her strength returned. She had cuddled down in the hay again, therefore, and had fallen into an uneasy sleep from which she was glad to be awoken, especially when she realised that Conan was offering her a drink of warm milk and not threatening to cut her head off, as she had at first feared.

Sitting up in the hay, with her teeth chattering so loudly that they sounded like castanets, she managed to drink her share of the milk and watched as Conan downed his own portion. She had been telling herself that he was wicked, would hand her over to the tinkers just as soon as he was able, but somehow, when she looked into his white and weary face, she began to believe that he could not possibly be all bad. As he settled down in the hay beside her, she asked him, in a small voice, whether he had really saved her from drowning and found herself believing him when he said ‘Yes’ without his usual elaboration.

‘Then thanks very much,’ she said, after thinking the matter over. ‘How far away is the camp, Conan? Because there’s no need for you to stay here, you know. You’re stronger’n me an’ you could get back to the camp tonight, I dare say.’

‘I’m goin’ to see you safe on the road to your da’s farm afore I does anythin’ else,’ Conan said firmly. ‘If you remember, queen, I came to Ireland to search for me own daddy. Oh, I’ve liked bein’ wi’ the tinkers all right but I’d just as soon see you settled and then find another band, mebbe a tribe who can tell me where Eamonn O’Dowd is, an’ don’t keep sayin’ that he might be in prison an’ such, the way the Kavanaghs have done.’

Ginny heard the bitter note in his voice and smiled to herself. She had thought Conan had taken that remark as a joke but it had plainly rankled. Once, she would not have believed that he meant to leave the tribe and help her on her way to Kerry, but suddenly she found that she did believe him, after all. She might be wrong, he might be planning to trick her into returning to the tinkers’ encampment, but she did not think so and presently, curled up together like two puppies in a box, the pair slept.