Larkrigg Fell (33 page)

Through a blur of tears she gazed out across Larkrigg Fell and down into Broomdale, her eyes following the ribbons of dry-stone walls that laced the country together, hedges full of May blossom like a rim of frothy lace edging the green skirts of the fell. Above her was the aching emptiness of the sky, lighting the distant peaks which always seemed tantalisingly closer than they actually were.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, rapidly cooling in the wind. Until this moment there’d been no time for tears. Or she’d been quite beyond them.

In one day she had lost her sister, the man she loved, and now her home. She had no money, no skills or training, no way of earning a living. And no one at all to love her.

Not that self-pity would do any good, Beth told herself sternly. Nor would resentment, guilt or anger. Whatever Sarah was doing right now, she was looking after number one, herself. She must learn to do the same and acquire a little selfishness too.

Beth mentally counted her blessings. She had her health, her youth, and at least the sacrifice of Larkrigg had cleared the debts. She was free to pick herself up and start over. Turn the page of life and go on, no matter what the cost.

Seth was not in the chimney corner where he usually was, or apparently on one of his endless walks. The partly carved deer’s head that was the crook handle he’d clearly been working on, stood abandoned on the mantelshelf. Seth himself lay fast asleep in the high Victorian bed where he’d very likely been born and where he may now be about to die, if his stentorian breathing was anything to go by. The sound of it sent shudders down her spine. He seemed too ill to even notice her presence but Beth sat with him for a while, holding his wrinkled hand.

Later, in the kitchen, she asked Andrew how ill he really was. He was surprisingly brusque.

‘He’s had flu’ and he’s very old. Happen he’ll recover, happen he won’t.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Why should it trouble you?’

‘I like Seth. He’s my friend.’

‘Then you should have come to see him sooner. He’s been ill for a while.’ Andrew placed a mug of strong tea in front of her and Beth hesitantly began to tell him of all that had happened to her in these last weeks, why she hadn’t been round to see him. ‘I’ve had a terrible time.’

He cut her short. ‘Don’t tell me your problems, Beth, I’ve enough of me own.’

‘But I always come to you.’

‘Well happen I can’t help any more.’

‘Ellen has been ill. She was bitten by an adder.’

‘I heard. I’m sorry about that.’

‘Sarah has gone, and so has Pietro, and I’ve lost the house.’ She caught at a sob in her throat. ‘Can’t you see how that has been devastating for me?’

Andrew drained the boiling water from a pan of potatoes, tossing the lid away with a clatter as he started to mash them with a fork. ‘Good riddance to him.’

‘What?’

‘I said good riddance.’

‘I heard what you said and it was unkind.’

‘Happen. At Cathra Crag we face the threat of bankruptcy every week. Join the club.’

She was appalled by his heartlessness. They seemed to be right back where they’d started, doing nothing but quarrel. Irritated by his lack of understanding she reached for the pan and fork.

‘You’re making a rotten job of that, let me do it.’

Andrew obstinately held fast to the handle, trying to wrench it from her grasp but she clung on and a sort of undignified tussle took place between them, ending with a loss of a good third of the pan’s contents on to the floor. ‘Now look what you’ve done, you daft woman. I can manage on me own, thanks very much.’

She scowled at him, heart thumping with concern. ‘You don’t seem to be managing very well at all. I’d like to help. Why won’t you let me? What have I done to annoy you?’

‘Done?’ He gave a short, bitter laugh. He’d heard all her news on the local telegraph, otherwise known as gossip, and the thought of her pining for Pietro Lawson was more than he could stomach. ‘You’ve done nowt. That’s your trouble. You live in a dream world. You swan through life without a moment’s concern. One minute mooning over Jonty Reynolds, the next over a man who, besides being completely unworthy of you, belongs to your sister.’ He waved the fork in her face. ‘But do you let that bother you? Do you hell. You ignore everyone’s advice, spend all your money and then whinge when there’s none left.’ The fork flew through the air and landed by some miracle, in the sink.

Beth had gone white to the lips. ‘That’s totally unfair. It wasn’t like that at all.’

‘Oh, wasn’t it?’

‘I loved Pietro - do love him.’

‘Aye, so you keep telling me.’

‘I couldn’t help the way I felt - feel.’

‘Spare me the hearts and flowers.’ His lip curled with contempt as he started to ladle out spoonfuls of mash and mince on to a plate.

Beth could feel her cheeks start to burn with embarrassment and distress. ‘I didn’t know you felt this way, Andrew. So angry and bitter.’

He flung the pan away from him in a gesture of frustration then turned to face her, eyes blazing. ‘How do you expect me to feel? Of course I’m bloody angry. Do you think I’m not human or something? Do you think I haven’t seen you kissing and canoodling and doing God knows what out on them fells? You think I don’t care? That my feelings don’t count because I’m the local yokel, the ignorant peasant. Damn you, Beth, I do have a bloody heart. I’ve loved you since the first moment I clapped eyes on you and you treat me like dirt.’

Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. The kiss was brutal, and shocking. He smelled of mashed potato and the soap he’d used when he’d ducked his head under the cold tap before making supper. His arms were strong, his body hard and powerful, and a tumult of confused emotions rocketed through her. But before she’d had the chance to analyse them properly, he’d thrust her away.

‘You thought I asked you to marry me out of pity. Well, you couldn’t be more wrong.’ Then flinging Seth’s dinner plate on to a tray he strode out of the room and clomped furiously up the stairs.

Beth remained exactly where she was, frozen to the spot. Then she let herself quietly out of the back door and ran back over the fell, sobbing as if her heart would break.

The next day a letter came from Sarah, full of apologies about leaving Beth ‘in the soup’ as she called it. How she was sure Beth would ‘sorted it all out in her practical way’. She and Pietro were apparently travelling through Europe, taking their time, en route for Italy to meet his family.

‘We’ll be back before you know it,’ her letter chattered on. ‘When we’ve had a lovely rest. And what do you think? It’ll be as Mr and Mrs Pietro Lawson. We’ve decided to get married in Florence. You won’t mind not being a bridesmaid or anything, will you? It’s such a lovely opportunity to enjoy a wonderful honeymoon before we return. Isn’t it exciting?’

Two days after that, Beth met Andrew by the tarn and told him she would marry him.

There was an election that May and Mrs Thatcher came to power. It seemed to indicate a new era, one in which women could be as powerful as they wished to be.

Beth settled for much less, a marriage without love, on her part at least, though with the very best of intentions, and a certain amount of confused emotions. She was certainly fond of Andrew, even if it wasn’t exactly a passionate love match made in heaven. Everyone told her what a good man he was, and she would smile and say he was her very best friend. She believed they could make a good life together.

She was just twenty years old and already prepared to make compromises in her life.

Beth knew she would never forget the look of brilliant hope on his face when she’d told him. She’d been entirely honest and admitted that she didn’t love him quite as she should.

‘You’ll come to love me, in time. I know you will,’ he’d assured her, which she didn’t believe for one moment but knew that she could never love anyone now, so what did it matter?
 

She’d let him kiss her again, and it hadn’t been at all unpleasant. Not like Pietro’s kisses of course, and she’d smiled and drawn away. ‘Will it be soon?’

‘Why not? Sooner the better.’

And the sooner I can get over my broken heart, she hoped.

The wedding took place on the last day of June. Meg put on a splendid reception at Broombank and all the neighbours came, including old Seth who was now much recovered, though still suffering from a troublesome cough. Ellen was there too, looking unnaturally smart in a costume she had probably owned since the Coronation. Jan and Nick were there, smiling and wishing Beth well, and the neighbouring farmer’s wives clucked and chirruped with pleasure. They always enjoyed a wedding.

It was two years since she’d come to the Lake District and everyone was slightly surprised she didn’t wait for her sister to return from her own extended honeymoon. Amazing how they’d both decided to marry at the same time. Twins were so alike, were they not? Though the other one had eloped to Italy after some trouble with the mortgage. Proper bit of excitement that was.

Lissa and Derry, the twins’ parents, naturally came for the wedding and Beth was so thrilled to see them. There was much laughter and kisses all round, and so much news to catch up on from home. They grieved little over the loss of Larkrigg, Lissa never having liked the house, but they worried over Sarah’s defection.

‘What is he like, this young man?’ Derry wanted to know.

‘Why wouldn’t she wait? Why didn’t she tell us? A joint wedding would have been so lovely.’ Lissa mourned.

But Sarah was gone and Beth didn’t want to talk about her, so gradually everyone stopped too and concentrated instead upon wishing the young couple well.

Since it was expected, the happy couple took a weekend away at a fine hotel in Ilkley. They were shown into a comfortable bedroom with a four poster bed which unfortunately reminded Beth of the one at Larkrigg where Sarah and Pietro had made love with such noisy gusto. She shuddered and turned quickly away to unpack the small case she had brought with her.

Andrew, who had seen the involuntary spasm, felt his heart sink. He hadn’t expected this to be easy but right now he wondered if he could ever win his young wife’s affection. Rushing her would certainly not be the way. The moment the smirking porter had gone, pocketing his unearned tip, he hastened to reassure her. ‘You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.’

She stared at him and he saw a mix of concern and gratitude spring in to those melting grey-blue eyes, even as she struggled to disguise her relief. ‘Oh, Andrew. Not the floor.’

‘The chair then,’ giving an airy laugh, as if sleeping apart from one’s bride on honeymoon was the normal way of going about things. ‘Though it looks a mite small, I’ll admit, for a big chap like me.

Beth gazed at the great bed, wondering how she would feel about sharing it with Andrew, his rough farmer’s hand on her breast where Pietro’s silken touch had caressed her. His mouth on hers where Pietro’s sweet lips had kissed hers. She should have considered all of this before she’d agreed to marry him of course. It was too late now. She felt herself stiffen, as if already repulsing her husband’s caresses, and her distress must have shown in her face for Andrew hastened to calm her anxieties.

‘It’s all right. I don’t mind: And no one will know, so long as we don’t ask for breakfast in bed, eh?’ he joked.

She looked so young and desirable standing before him that the longing to take her in his arms almost unmanned him. Did he have the discipline, he wondered desperately, not to touch her when he knew she slept so close? He must find it somehow, or risk losing his lovely Beth for ever. He did so want to make this marriage work. All he had to do was to give her a little time to get used to the idea.

He turned her to face him. ‘I want you to come to me willingly, Beth. I can wait.’

For a long moment she gazed up at him, eyes filling with tears. ‘I do want to be a good wife to you. I want to make you happy.’

‘You will. Let’s take things slowly, right?’

She nodded, then tipping up on her toes, kissed him gently upon his lips. It was light and insignificant, a mere whisper of a kiss, as if given by a child. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and picking up her dressing gown headed for the bathroom. The terms of the marriage it seemed, were settled.

And when the short honeymoon was over they returned to Cathra Crag and settled for separate rooms. Andrew remained in his old one while Beth slept alone in the main bedroom, vacated by Billy in her honour.

If he considered the arrangement odd for a newly married couple, he made no comment. Happen this was the modem way, Billy thought sadly. Or else his son had a problem, caused by losing his mother so young. Time would sort it out. Best not to interfere.

Seth too held his own counsel and pondered. Summat was wrong and he meant to find out what it was, and if possible be the one to put it right. Nothing had beaten him yet.

Chapter Nineteen

On that very first morning when Beth walked into her kitchen, she was almost overwhelmed, not only by the fact that no one in their right minds could call it labour saving, but also by a most noxious smell. She was nervous of this new life she had embarked upon, but this was beyond even her worst nightmares. ‘Heavens above, it’s like someone died. What on earth is it?’ Seth stood sheepishly fidgeting in the doorway. ‘It’s me horns.’