All the dear faces (42 page)

“
What's to do, Annie?" she asked softly, hesitantly for she was not one to poke her nose into other people's business, even in that of her beloved friend.

“
Nothing new, Phoebe. Just some bad dreams come to haunt me again."

“
What have tha' done today, love? Did tha' meet anyone up Broad End?" It was said diffidently. "Tell me if you have a mind to but I'll not be offended if you don't. I'm here should you need me." Her face was awkwardly soft and her hand touched Annie's with a feather of tenderness.

“
Oh, Phoebe . . . what am I to do?"

“
About . . . him? It's . . . him from Long Beck isn't it?"

“
Yes, him from Long Beck. Reed Macauley, a married man with whom I've been foolish enough to fall in love.
”

Phoebe sighed in deep, deep sympathy, her pale blue eyes fixed on Annie with the soulful look of a devoted dog. Without being aware of it since she was still somewhat constrained in the giving and receiving of demonstrations of affection, she clasped Annie's slim hands between her own. They were big-boned, wide, made for hard work, but gentle and soothing just the same.

“
I thought it were him. I've seen the way tha' looks at one another an' he were like a man demented when tha' went off to Rosley Hill that time. But what's happened today? He's not hurt thi' has he?" At once Phoebe was like a mother hen whose chick has been threatened, herruffled feathers wild and furious, her beak ready to peck out the eyes of the predator. If Reed Macauley had hurt Annie Abbott, which, to Phoebe, meant what that randy sod had almost done to her in Keswick, and would have done but for Annie, then he'd Phoebe to reckon with. She'd take her kitchen knife, the one she had sharpened only that morning and cut off that foolish but dangerous bit of flesh which dangled between his legs and stuff it in his mouth, so she would.

“
No, he's not hurt me, Phoebe, not physically, but he's not done my heart much good."

“
How's that, then, Annie?"

“
He really does love me, you know." For a moment her face was transformed to an unearthly rapturous beauty. Her skin flushed to rose and her eyes were great drowning brown pools in which liquid gold ran, then it all flowed away, leaving her white and drained. "But he wants to change me. Turn me into a doll for him to play with whenever he has a fancy for it. Do you know what I'm saying, Phoebe?"

“
Well . . ."

“
To put me in a doll's house. Dress me in silken gowns and expensive jewels and when he has the time, he'll come calling . . ." Her voice faded away on the last word and her clouded eyes closed and from between the lids fat tears oozed, hanging for a moment on her lashes before sliding across her cheeks.

“
Eeh, love, don't . . . don't . . ." Phoebe could not bear it. She just could not bear to see the pain Annie was suffering and in an uncharacteristic gesture, she swept her into her own strong arms, pulling her close, doing her best to get Annie's head to her own shoulder which was difficult since Annie was almost a foot taller than herself.

“
Don't cry lass, don't cry. See, tha's none of 'em worth it, none of 'em."

“
I know that, Phoebe, sweet Jesus, don't I know that. My father was a sanctimonious old bugger who worked me like a horse. Cat's father wanted nothing from me but to get into my drawers, and when he did, and made me
pregnant, ran off and left me to cope as best I could. Fifteen I was . . . Dear God! Then there's Bert Garnett who . . . well, never mind, we all know what he's after don't we . . . ?"

“
Oh, aye. Eyes like slugs all over thi' . . ."

“
. .. and the only one who has a scrap of decency in him is Charlie . . ." She spoke in a soft, broken murmur, the steady rhythm of her weeping punctuated by her desolate words. Phoebe rocked her and shushed her and patted her shoulder, even wiped her nose on the scrap of scrupulously clean linen she kept in her pocket for just such a purpose
.

She wept for ten minutes but the paroxysm of grief gradually died to a muted and occasional sniffle and at last she was quiet. She still lay in the comforting circle of Phoebe's arms, her eyes on the flickering flames of the fire in the inglenook. She sighed then and sat up, tossing back the tangled brush of her hair, turning to smile at Phoebe.

“
There, it's done with. I'm all right now."

“
Ah know that, Annie. There's nowt much can break thee."

“
Nor you, dear Phoebe."

“
True, now what about a nice cup of tea.
”

They were sitting companionably side by side, sipping their tea, when Cat came in. The dogs got up to welcome her, swirling about her skirts, nudging her for attention and in her basket Dandy purred her satisfaction as her kittens, three marmalade and two tortoiseshell like the tom from Upfell who had sired them, climbed all over her ready to leave the basket now in their inquisitive search for adventure.

“
Where have you been, sweeting?" Annie asked her as the child sat down beside her, nestling within her mother's cradling arm. Annie was still deep in the desolation her encounter with, and rejection of Reed had forced her into, and her question was absent-minded. The apathy which nature provides to protect against deep hurt was bound about her, giving her time to start the healing process, orif not that, then the strength to take up the burden life had decided her back was broad enough to bear. She loved Reed Macauley. That was a reality, a truth, that she had carried in her heart for a long time. He could never be hers. That was another reality, another truth that had to be borne. Nothing had changed from the uncertainty of what it had always been where Reed was concerned, but given time, the hard work and determined resolve towards the future which had borne her up in the past, she would survive it. There was a great emptiness inside her. She felt like squatting down on the floor, as an animal that is hurt does and putting her hands about her ears so that she might not hear her own cries of pain, but she would pull herself through this, as she had always done
.

She held her child closer and put her cheek on her windblown tumble of bright copper curls. Cat smelled of heather as though she had used the springing, colourful plant for a pillow and probably had for she would often take one of Charlie's books up on to the fell and with only the dogs for company, read in the clear sunlight or while away the hours in dreams. She was getting on for six years old, slim and tall for her age, a quiet child who, probably because of her early years, was shy and liked nothing better than her own company, though she and Charlie were good friends.

“
Have you been along by the gill?" Annie asked when Cat did not answer, for the bank which ran beside the tumbling waters was a favourite spot of the child's.

“
Mm, we were reading."

“
You and Charlie?"

“
Yes." Cat did not waste words.

“
And where did Charlie get to?"

“
He said he would try for Yorkshire first and then if there was nothing there he'd go to London.
”

Annie smiled despite her grief. Charlie was a great one for jokes, for teasing, for dreams and fantasies. He filled Cat's head with them, telling her far more about himself than he ever told Phoebe or herself and was still, despite all this time, an enigma, a merry, absurdly endearing man
with an air of mystery about him which she knew many women would find attractive.

“
Really, and did he say how he would get there?"

“
He said he was to walk, mother, that's if his old boots would allow it." The child gazed solemnly up at her mother, then sighed deeply. "I shall miss him.
”

Very carefully Annie sat up, disentangling herself from Phoebe who had not yet been stricken with the curious feeling of dread which had laid itself on Annie, a dread so heavy it was like a suit of armour on her already weary body. She withdrew her arms gradually from about Cat and looked deeply into her face. Cat's gaze did not waver. There was a tremble in her soft lips and the golden brown depths of her eyes were troubled but she did not look away. Phoebe, sensing something now, leaned forward.

“
What is it?" she asked doubtfully
.

Annie did not answer. She spoke instead to Cat. "What exactly did Charlie say, sweetheart?"

“
He said he would try for Yorkshire first . . ." the child repeated patiently, ". . . but . . ."

“
Yes, yes . . . but . . . what did he mean? Was it something you were reading together, or a story he was telling you?
”

Her heart thudded painfully out of control and she did not know why for it was absolutely ridiculous to think that Charlie, dear, dear Charlie, would . . . Oh, sweet Jesus .. .

“
No, Mother, he said it was time to leave now. He was needed elsewhere and I was to tell you . . ."

“
No . . . Dear God . . . no, not Charlie . . . please God . . . not Charlie . . . I cannot manage it without Charlie . . ."

“
Mother . . ." The child drew away, frightened.

“
Annie . . ." Phoebe put out a restraining hand for surely Annie was about to do herself a mischief.

“
How could he . . . it's a joke, isn't it? He's hiding in the yard, isn't he? I'll give him his old boots, the rascal. I'll kill him for teasing me like this . . . really I will . . ." and she sprang up leaving Cat and Phoebe to huddletogether on the settle while the dogs, aware that some drama was being enacted, wagged their tails placatingly, ready to take the blame as long as Annie would pat their heads to reassure them.

“
Charlie . . . come on in, you devil." She ran into the yard, her head turning frantically from side to side. She raced over to the wall and stared across the fields to the lake, shading her eyes for a sight of his jaunty figure. Where was he? Where had he hidden himself ? In the barn, or the cow shed? Perhaps the dairy which, without a cow to produce the milk, was still not in use. Oh, dear Lord, let him suddenly jump out at her . . . please Lord. She would scream and curse and probably strike him for frightening her so but . . . she needed him. She loved Reed Macauley, but her greatest need was for Charlie Lucas, who, she knew now, had been the hand to guide her, the arm to cling to, the rock to steady her . . . Charlie .. .

“
He left you this letter, Mother." Cat's voice was timid at her back but Annie did not turn. She stood in the middle of the yard and from somewhere in her head, she heard Charlie's flippant laughter, his cheerful whistle, the sound of his voice singing 'The Cocking Song' from way up on the fell, and her world tumbled down about her ears
.

She did not read it until Phoebe and a tearful Cat had gone to bed.

“
My love," it said. "I can call you that now I am no longer with you. That is what you are, you see. My love, my dearest love, mine, in my heart, but not mine, for I know yours beats faster, not for me, but for Reed Macauley. I have watched you turn your head to stare over the fell which divides Browhead and Long Beck and felt your pain and longing and my own has been, at times, a burden too great to bear. I love you, Annabelle Abbott, but I simply can no longer live beside you knowing the strength of your love for him. It's too much to ask of any man. I have stayed as long as I could, as long as you needed me. You are on your feet now . . ."

“
No, no, I'm not, Charlie . . . I need you with me . . .
”

she whispered and the words had nothing to do with Charlie's work on the farm.

“
. . . your flock is healthy and your crops. You have a guinea or two put by ... "
“

. · · and you have nothing. You have taken nothing that rightly belonged to you, not a penny . . ." She rocked in an agony of remorse, her tears soaking the notepaper, blinding her eyes so that she could barely see to read.

“
. . . and can hire a man to help you at 'backend'. What a charming way with words you people of the lakes have. 'Backend' and that is what it is to me. An ending, my darling Annie. I shall never forget. I shall never forget you, Charlie.
”

Phoebe crept down an hour later. Annie sat where she had left her. The letter was in her left hand and her right rested on the head of Bonnie which was in her lap. Blackie's muzzle rested across her bare feet, keeping a vigil with her as she stared, dry-eyed now, into the future which would be bleak and empty without Charlie Lucas in it.

“
Phoebe . . ."

“
Aye, love, I'm here."

“
What am I to do without him?" and Phoebe was not awfully certain of who Annie meant. Reed Macauley or Charlie Lucas
?

Annie walked to Keswick the next day and when she found no trace of Charlie there, set off along the road which ran alongside the great heights of Helvellyn by the lake of Thirlmere, down to Grasmere and Ambleside and Windermere. She stopped every man and woman she met asking them if they had seen Charlie Lucas, describing him and causing a great deal of consternation among the women since they had thought her to be a young man until she spoke. There was also a great deal of ribald comment among the men, though her white, strained face and deep staring eyes soon silenced them all. She took the dogs and her shepherd's crook and on her back was the bag of food Phoebe had packed for her but she did not eat what was in it, merely carried it because it did not occur to herto put it down. She slept wherever she happened to be, her dogs close by her, but only for an hour or two before getting to her feet and moving on
.