Across the Sands of Time (17 page)

‘Indeed.' Helen looked closer. ‘Are you feeling quite well, Mae? You look a bit peaky.'

That really was the understatement of the day, Mae thought uncharitably. Peaky. Now wasn't that a typical Helen expression!

‘Headache,' she murmured. ‘It's nothing, it'll pass. What can I get you? Mince pies? There should be one of those lemon sponges that you like here somewhere. I've had a run on those this morning … ah yes, here it is.'

‘Lovely, thank you. Now, what else shall I take…?'

Small red dots were appearing before Mae's vision and her heart sank. This was it. The forerunner of a real humdinger of a migraine.

‘Have you heard the news about Dominic Shane?' Helen went on blithely. ‘I find it very hard to believe myself.'

‘Me, too,' Mae said, more sharply than she'd intended. ‘I've no time for that sort of thing. Witch-hunting! It's untrue and damaging to the person or persons involved.'

‘Quite.' As she chatted, Helen was making her selection of the goods on the stall. ‘There, I think that's it. A dozen mince-pies – so delicious, I really don't know how you turn out such perfect pastry every time. The lemon sponge and two plum cakes for keeping. Well, you never know who might come this time of year, do you?'

Mae didn't answer. She picked up her calculator and tried to total the goods, but the figures danced crazily before her eyes.

‘Mae?' Helen's voice came as if from a long way off. ‘You really don't look yourself. I think you should go home. A little rest might do the trick. Look – I don't mind taking over here for you, if you'd like.'

‘What?' Mae couldn't believe her ears.

‘Your stall. You've worked terribly hard to put all this food together. It would be tragic for it to go to waste and besides' – she smiled, rather self-consciously – ‘between you and me, I've always wanted to try a hand at running a stall.

‘Mike used to say it would do me good to join the ranks here but I could never find the time. Or the courage! It was your Bryony who brought the subject up again. “You're a brilliant cook,” she said. “Why don't you and Mum get together? You do the savouries and Mum can carry on with her yummy cakes and stuff”.'

She smiled suddenly.

‘But there, I'm rattling on.… Tell you what, I'll ask one of the other ladies to run you home. We'll sort something out here, Mae, don't worry.'

Through tight bands of pain and an explosion of coloured light, Mae found herself giving in to Helen's suggestion. All she wanted was home, the peace and quiet of a darkened room … and bed.

 

‘So your foundation stock were all show champions,' Bryony asked, having sorted her way through a confusion of documents on Friesian bloodlines that went back to when Mike Sanders first started his herd.

‘That's right.' Geoff took up one of the hard-backed volumes, opened it and pointed. ‘Dad took photos of all the prominent animals, just for the record. But you must be bored to tears with all this.'

‘No, I'm not. Really, I'm interested. Thea does much the same over the ponies. 'Course, I grew up with them so I know them – and it's on a much smaller scale than this.'

‘True, though I wouldn't mind betting that, given the opportunity, Thea would go in for showing ponies in a bigger way.'

Bryony kept her head down and continued turning over the pages of pedigrees. It was rare for Geoff to mention Thea's name and she didn't quite know how to respond. When she looked up, however, Geoff was smiling at her steadily, his mild brown eyes unperturbed and reassuring.

‘It's OK, Bryony, you don't have to feel awkward. Thea's your sister and you spend a lot of time here. Her name's bound to crop up in the conversation.'

‘You … don't mind? You've got over it, the whole Thea thing?'

He nodded.

‘She was right to back out when she did. Naturally I was upset at the time and my pride took a hammering.' He grinned. ‘But maybe it was all for the best.'

‘Free now to move on, and all that?'

‘Absolutely,' Geoff said. ‘And I have you to thank for helping me sort out these books. Dad knew exactly where to put his hands on certain numbers when he was writing out the papers for stock being sold. But I'm not so familiar with it all and I can't risk making mistakes. Cataloguing it properly is the answer.'

‘A computer job, then.'

‘Might be best. I've made a start, but this lot was in such a mix-up I gave up.' He paused. ‘You never mentioned how the visit to Woodhey went. Was everything OK when you went home?'

‘It was fine. Thea was away so I did the ponies for Dad. He's utterly useless around them and don't they know it!'

‘Chas has got my sympathy. I was never much good around horses myself.'

‘I know. Thea used to laugh about it. I can't see the difficulty, to be honest, but I guess we all have our strengths.'

She grinned, impish, her curly blonde mop framing her pretty face.

‘Did they nip you?'

‘All the time! They never, ever tried it on with Thea as far as I recall. She made handling them look so easy.'

‘The way you do with the cattle. It's like I said. Every person to their own thing.… What is it?'

Geoff had picked up the local paper that was lying on the table and was studying it with interest.

‘Remember that night club in Liverpool they spent so much money refurbishing? The Pink Parrot? It's opened up. D'you want to go?'

‘Oh, do I!' Breathless, Bryony grinned at him across the table, all else forgotten. ‘When?'

‘Saturday? I could pick you up around eightish? That should leave plenty of time for you to get ready.'

‘Make it half-past. Saturday's always frantic at the shop. Customers make such a mess of everything and it's Christmas party time. They try on every dress and trouser suit in the place and leave them out any-old how. I have to tidy the rails and vacuum the whole place before going home!'

‘OK, eight-thirty it is. I don't know what time we'll get back, though. If I nod off over the milking on Sunday it'll be your fault.' He grinned.

All Bryony could do was smile at him incredulously. Geoff had actually asked her out! They were going clubbing! Wait till she told Liz….

 

‘So he's come out of his gloom at long last?' her friend said later. She hurled herself on to the battered sofa, a slim girl with endless legs and shaggy hair, coloured this week her favourite shade of ruby, and stretched her arms in a parody of laconic boredom. ‘Wow!'

‘Oh, you! Geoff's not been down – and even if he has it's only to be expected. A farm like Roseacre is a big responsibility. You should see the pedigrees of the cattle, Liz. Dozens of show champions, and every one of them home-bred.'

‘Amazing!' Liz affected a yawn, ducking neatly as the patchwork
cushion in vivid primary colours came hurtling her way. Retrieving it, she dusted it down with studied care.

‘This is one of our more respectable items. You should have more consideration. Didn't your mum teach you how to behave around the house?'

Bryony was saved a retort by the phone ringing. She snatched it up.

‘Dad? Hi, there. Are you OK?'

‘So-so. It's your Mum, Bryony. She's come down with one of her migraines. She was so bad I got her to the doctor. It seems her blood pressure is up. Doc Gillian said she's to have several days' rest and no messing. You know Gillian. You don't argue.'

‘Come to think of it, Helen mentioned Mum having to skip the market and go home. I never thought anything of it. She was so made up with taking over the stall neither Geoff nor I could get a word in. Oh, poor Mum! It must be awful being stuck in bed, and at such a busy time, too.'

‘I don't think she's in any fit state to care at present, love. That's why I'm ringing. You know how useless I am about the house. Could you come over this weekend and look after things, d'you think?'

‘Me?' Bryony's world seemed to turn drastically, horrendously, upside-down. ‘But what about Thea?'

‘She's away on one of those special training courses teachers do. It's only a two-day effort but tomorrow she's going straight on to Ireland from Aberystwyth – that's where the course is being held.'

‘Ireland?' Bryony queried, ignoring the rest. ‘What, again?'

‘Seems this is more than a casual weekend away. It's to do with Dominic Shane and this problem he's got. You'll have heard.'

‘Yes,' Bryony said impatiently. ‘Dad, I don't know if I can. There's work and … things. I'll have to get back to you, OK?'

‘No, it isn't, Bryony. Your mother's health is important, and you're needed here.

‘We're going to have to think up something to lighten your mother's workload. She's overdoing things. Right now, though,
what with the house, your mum and those ponies on top of my own work, I don't know which way to turn.' He sighed.

‘Thea said she'd skip the course and come back if need be. But I'm not having that. Her job is crucial.'

And mine isn't, Bryony thought woodenly.

‘What about the weekend?'

‘She can't give Ireland a miss. I told you, it's important. Oh, I think I heard your mum calling. Better go, Speak to you soon.'

The line went blank. Bryony replaced the receiver and turned a woebegone face on Liz.

‘You heard?'

‘I got the gist of it, yes. What are you going to do?'

‘I can't miss this date with Geoff, Liz. I just can't! But … poor Mum. She sounds bad and the doctor's been laying down the law.' Bryony picked up the coat she had just discarded. ‘I'm going over to see her.'

‘You can't go out again in this, it's blizzarding down and it's forecast for the night. Pity your old man didn't think to ring earlier. You could have spent your day off at Woodhey, instead of slogging your guts out at Roseacre.'

‘I haven't been – oh, never mind. Liz, what am I to do?'

‘About Saturday? Well, you've got your own life to lead, Bry. It's Friday tomorrow, anyway. Why not take a couple of days off work and look after your mum, but go out with Geoff on Saturday as arranged? Simple!'

‘But it isn't,' Bryony said gloomily. ‘Geoff'll throw a wobbler if he knew I was breezing off out and leaving Dad to it. He's like that. So terribly upstanding and always having to do the right thing. He'll say we can do the club another time and that would be that.'

And he'd be right, she thought with a horrible sinking feeling. Why did Mum have to be sick right now?

‘I could always do Saturday night for you,' Liz said.

‘What? Go out with Geoff?'

‘Don't be daft. I meant fill in at the farm. I'm a good nurse – and your dad and I get on just fine.'

Bryony looked bemused.

‘But that means you'll have to give up whatever plans you had yourself.'

‘No problem.' Liz's direct green gaze was challenging. ‘The offer's there, anyway. It's up to you.'

A few weeks ago Bryony knew she wouldn't have thought twice. Now, she was in a quandary. Should she go, and risk dropping several notches in Geoff's esteem? Or put him off till another time – if indeed there would be another time.

F
rowning and a bit restless, Bryony prowled across the small living-room of the upstairs flat to draw the curtains against the snowy December night.

‘If this keeps up, our date will be off anyway. Geoff will be hitching up the snow-plough! He likes to keep the lane to the farm clear in case of emergencies.'

Her friend, Liz, stretched out on the shabby sofa, ruffled her fingers laconically through her spiked, ruby-tinted hair, metal bangles jangling.

‘I wouldn't get in a state about the weather, Bry. Snow never lasts all that long here. This could all be gone by morning. Like I said, I don't mind doing a Saturday stint at Woodhey. It's up to you, but I'd certainly go for it.'

‘Thanks, Liz. I must confess I'm tempted, only—Oh, I don't know!' Bryony threw herself into an armchair by the radiator. ‘Why does life always have to be so complicated?'

‘It isn't. It's people who make the complications,' Liz pointed out reasonably. ‘Would a cup of coffee help with the great decision? I'll make it if you like.'

‘No, I'll do it. Anything to keep occupied.'

She was in the small galley kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil, when the phone rang. Bryony snatched it up.

‘Hello?'

‘Bryony? It's me, Geoff. Just checking you got in all right in this weather.'

‘Yes, I was fine, thanks. It was only flurrying when I drove home.'

‘It's coming down heavens hard here. What's it like with you?'

‘The same.'

‘I've stepped up the cows' rations. Got to keep them warm and happy.'

‘Yes, you do….'

There was a pause, in which the kettle boiled and clicked itself off.

‘Bryony, are you all right?' he said at last. ‘You seem quiet.'

‘Well it's—' Hooking a stool under the breakfast bar with her foot, Bryony yanked it out and subsided on to it. ‘It's about Saturday night. Dad rang just after I got in. Mum's come down with a migraine and apparently Thea's arranged to go away for the weekend. It can't be put off and Dad wants me at Woodhey to take over.'

‘So? Where's the problem?'

‘Saturday? The Pink Parrot – remember? I thought I'd come straight to Roseacre after work and get changed there. I could help with the milking then,' Bryony added in a rush. Anything to encourage things along – and it was a task she enjoyed in any case.

‘Oh, I think we can safely leave that to Jim Stokes. I've already arranged with him to switch his hours. What's this about Mae? Is she very poorly?'

‘Well, Dad says the doctor went on about strokes. It scared him a bit.'

‘I'm not surprised. What a worry for you all. It isn't like your mum to be off-colour, is it? But I suppose with Thea being away Chas has got the ponies to see to on top of everything else.' The smile was obvious in Geoff's voice. ‘That'll please him!'

‘Oh, I can do the ponies, Geoff, if I fall in with what Dad wants, Liz has offered to stay at Woodhey for me on Saturday night.'

‘Has she? That's decent of her. Though, thinking about it, what with the weather and now this, it might be best to postpone going out till the following weekend.'

Bryony's grip tightened on the phone.

‘We will go then, though? Promise?'

‘Of course. The snow's bound to have cleared by then. When
were you planning to go to the farm? After work on Friday? Why don't I pick you up from the shop and run you over there? That'll save you risking the byroads in your car. The pick-up's brilliant in these conditions.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Sure I'm sure!' He laughed. ‘We can't have you coming to grief on the ice, can we? Chin up. Do your bit for the family and we'll have a great night out on Saturday week instead. It'll be good to have some time at Woodhey, won't it?'

A good opportunity to get relationships back on an even keel, he means, Bryony thought ruefully. On the heels of this came the realization that Geoff was right. Far from the disappointment she expected at missing out on the yearned-for date, she was aware of an overwhelming sense of relief.

Doing the daughterly thing wouldn't be at all difficult now that Geoff had pointed out there'd be the following weekend to look forward to.

‘Yes, it'll be fine,' she replied. ‘What d'you bet the place will be a mess? Dad's hopeless at keeping house.'

‘Maybe, but you won't find a better farmer anywhere on the Wirral,' Geoff returned succinctly. ‘Right, then. Get the bus into work tomorrow and I'll meet you at around six. OK?'

‘Thanks, Geoff.'

‘No problem. Take care, love. See you.'

The line went dead. Bryony sat on, smiling dreamily at the receiver, coffee long forgotten. Geoff had been so dependable and reassuring … and he'd called her ‘love'. He wasn't normally given to endearments. As far as she could remember, he'd never referred to Thea by anything other than her given name even when they were going out together.

This, surely, had to be significant?

 

Thea flicked on the windscreen wipers against the sleety rain that fell, and slowed her pace accordingly. Trust the weather to turn nasty, and just when she was running late anyway! What with her class of six-year-olds on a high due to Christmas approaching and
the usual ends to tie up in the classroom before she could happily leave for the weekend, it truly had been one of those days.

Thea frowned, the little wrinkle that was all too obvious of late appearing between her brows. She'd hated leaving Mum so poorly, looking pale and worn, the bedroom darkened because the daylight hurt her eyes, the scent of the lavender oil the girl in the health shop had recommended drifting on the air.

But Mae had insisted Thea went ahead with the arrangements for the weekend.

‘I'm feeling better, really. The painkillers the doctor prescribed are working. I slept well last night and I do believe it's done me good. Such a nuisance. I haven't had one of my heads for ages.'

‘You've been overdoing it, Mum. Why don't you make it easier on yourself and drop one of the farmers' markets? Maybe just do Neston, as it's the closest to home.'

Mae closed her eyes wearily.

‘Oh, please, not now, Thea. I've already had your father saying as much when he knows what a boon the extra cash has been.'

‘Sorry.' Thea bit her lip on the argument for the time being. ‘Anyway, I've taken a casserole out of the freezer for Dad's evening meal. All he has to do is pop it in the microwave. I'll grab a sandwich at the airport, rather than risk being late by coming back here.'

‘Very sensible. What about the ponies? Dad gets in such a frazzle over them.'

‘I know, and there's absolutely no need. I've left them a deep straw bed and there's plenty of hay in the shelter. All he has to do is check the water troughs for ice and give them some concentrates. '

Thea glanced at her watch.

‘Mum, I must go. It's my turn to take assembly and I need to read through my notes first. Are you sure you're all right? Do you want anything?'

‘No, thank you. I might have another sleep.' Mae managed a small smile. ‘You get off now, darling, and be careful on the lane with all this snow.'

At least the snow had almost gone, Thea consoled herself as she dropped a gear for the junction ahead. Another vehicle was approaching, and Thea pulled as close as she could to the verge to let it pass on the narrow country road.

Slushy ice showered up from the wheels as the car swished by with a cheerful acknowledgment of the horn. In her dipped headlamps Thea glimpsed her sister's blonde curls and Geoff's serious profile. They looked inordinately chummy and Thea's heart twisted.

She wondered where they were heading and what they'd been talking so animatedly about that neither one had taken in who she was. Neston, probably, where Bryony had her flat-share.

Shrugging, she drove on to the junction and made the turn, setting her sights on the M53 and ultimately, Liverpool Airport.

Several hours later, after a delayed and turbulent flight due to the inclement weather conditions, Thea arrived at Dublin with only one thought in mind; to be enfolded in Dominic's embrace and be whisked away to his snug retreat on the coast.

This was the fourth time she had made the journey and the airport at Dublin was now familiar territory. As she disembarked from the plane into the rainswept darkness of the wintry evening, her eyes sought the bright lights of the exit terminal and Dominic's tall figure amongst the huddled crowd who were waiting to meet people off the flight.

He wasn't there.

Not especially alarmed, since none of the planes seemed to be running to schedule, she assumed he'd have whiled away the time in the passenger lounge with a coffee and a newspaper. She murmured a greeting to a cheery member of the ground staff and, weekend bag in hand, pushed her way through the milling throng.

But he wasn't in the waiting area or any of the cafés.

She checked her mobile for a text, but that, too, was frustratingly blank. A call to his number told her that he was not available at present, which meant there was a chance he had been held up and was on the way here.

Meantime, Thea went to reception to see if there was a message.

‘Sorry, miss, nothing from a Mr Shane.' The girl behind the desk flashed a professional smile. ‘Can I get you a cab, perhaps?'

‘No, that's fine, thanks,' Thea replied. ‘Something must have happened for him not to have met the plane. I'll go for a cup of tea and see if he turns up. If he doesn't, could you recommend a hotel for the night?'

‘Sure, no problem at all. Will I take your name? Then I can direct him when he comes.'

Giving her details, Thea picked up her luggage that seemed all at once to have grown heavier and, regretting the whim that had caused her to pack extra jumpers for those bracing winter walks along the bay, she headed for one of the airport cafés from which there was a clear view of the entrance.

Half an hour later there was still no sign of Dominic. By now it was gone ten, too late to make the journey to Wexford. She decided the best thing would be to take advantage of the receptionist's offer and spend the night in Dublin.

Tired, hungry, her concern over Dominic's unprecedented desertion mounting, Thea was glad to reach the small but pleasant hostelry on a quiet square, and the impersonal warmth of the single room to which she was directed. Dinner was long finished.

Availing herself of the refreshments provided, Thea made yet more tea and put an order through for yet another sandwich, after which she tried again to get in touch with Dominic. It was hopeless. Either he wasn't answering the phone or he'd left it somewhere by mistake … an all too frequent occurrence.

Midnight had begun striking from the many church clocks of the city as Thea climbed wearily into bed. After a particularly arduous day and having so much on her mind, she knew she was in for a disturbed night. She wasn't far wrong. The last resounding chime had barely died away before Thea was plunged into vivid dreams.

 

‘I need to see your mistress,' John Royle told the maid who answered his summons at the door of Fernlea. ‘Tell her it is a matter of utmost urgency.'

About to protest, the maid took a closer look at the caller's troubled face and nodded.

‘You'd better come in. I'll tell Miss Platt you're here.'

John entered the house and stood impatiently in the panelled hallway. It struck him latterly that it had not occurred to him to come by the usual tradesman's entrance, but then this was no usual call.

In the general surroundings he was more aware than ever of his workaday appearance and the obvious reek of fish that hung about his person. Half wishing he had delayed long enough to get into some decent linen and his Sunday suit, John heard the distant female interchange from a room beyond and willed the girl to hasten.

Moments later the maid came bustling back along the carpeted passage towards him.

‘The mistress will see you immediately. Please follow me.'

John was shown into a pretty drawing-room where Jessica Platt sat at a polished writing desk. Aware of the door closing behind him with a discreet click, John sketched a bow.

‘Miss Platt. Good morning. My apologies for having disturbed you, but—'

His words were waved aside.

‘Get on with it, man. No doubt you have good reason to be here. Tell me what it is.'

‘I was actually on my way to see you over another matter entirely, but something rather alarming has happened and … I'd better start at the beginning. I had reason to call on Wallace Dakin at the Harbour House. As I was leaving, two excise men turned into the inn yard. Mistress, I won't beat about the bush. The Harbour House's involvement with the contraband folk is no secret hereabouts. What I've just seen did not look good for your sister and her man.'

Jessica Platt's mouth tightened.

‘What you say doesn't surprise me one jot. I make no secret of it, John Royle. Words cannot express how often my brother-by-marriage has been reminded of his indiscretion in these matters.
But there you have it. The man's a fool and a drunken one at that.' She lifted her chin.

‘What happens to him is no more than he deserves. However, my sister is a different case. Rest assured, should anything untoward occur at the tavern, her well-being will be taken care of. I hope with all my heart that this visit you saw was not an official one. Marion is in extremely poor health. Such trauma would do her absolutely no good at all.'

‘But – begging your pardon, ma'am – it looked uncommon official to me.'

‘Then we shall have to hope and pray that you are mistaken! It could well be that they were passing and felt in need of some liquid refreshment. If not, there is nothing can be done about the excise men in their working capacity. It might be best to forget what you saw, John Royle.'