Learning to Dance (28 page)

They lunched at the hotel. It was full of birdwatchers observing and recording the big autumn migration. It had been going on for some weeks, they were informed: the puffins leaving at the beginning of August with their cousins the guillemots. They were told to look out for kittiwakes, who should have left the previous month but were still enjoying the north-west corner of the island. As she ordered sandwiches from the bar, Judith heard Jack’s voice, stronger than usual, as he said incredulously, ‘One hundred and forty different kinds? All on this small island?’

‘They have their own territories. The puffins use the same underground burrows they always have.’

Information was bandied about with enthusiasm. The puffin was the island’s emblem; they were shown coins and postage stamps imprinted with the clown-like parrot face. The ‘twitchers’, as they called themselves, liked nothing better than to talk about their sightings each day and to recollect – with the aid of battered notebooks – many others in the past. The more serious ornithologists were busy at their laptops, transcribing scribbled notes into statistical columns. A woman apparently on her own sat in a corner, and typed with head thrown back, eyes closed.

When they got back to Hausmann’s cottage for a cup of tea, Jack said, ‘Did you notice that woman in the corner – yes? Did you recognize her? She writes metaphysical stuff. She is very popular. William wanted me to do a piece about her – fixed up an interview and a cameraman. Trouble was, she was almost too straightforward. He wanted something to ridicule, and she simply reports various phenomena.’

‘Wonder what on earth she is doing here?’

‘Kitty might know. Paula Anderson. That was it – couldn’t remember. She obviously didn’t recognize me.’

‘Not surprised.’ Judith sipped her tea, thankful that lunch at the hotel had banished Jack’s ‘black dog’. ‘As far as I could tell, she did not open her eyes once while we were eating. Have another Welsh cake with some of Kitty’s home-churned butter.’ She pushed a plate towards him and watched with satisfaction as he dealt with two cakes and poured himself more tea. The second part of Kitty’s prescription was certainly being enjoyed. She grinned. ‘You know that Kitty Davies is going to take all the credit for your physical well-being?’

He looked at her, then spoke very seriously. ‘Jude, if you hadn’t appeared on that Monday night, I would have let go. I had made up my mind.’ She was about to tell him sharply not to talk like that when he gave her one of his special smiles and added, ‘That part is all right. Now it’s down to the island to do something with my mind!’

She smiled back, but spoke just as seriously as he had. ‘I know Kitty sounded like a tourist ad, but Robert thinks like that too. And maybe your Paula Anderson was writing down a special incantation to the spirits of Lundy!’ She reached over the table and touched his arm; it was cold. ‘Come on, let’s light the fire in the range. I’ll make a hot-water bottle and you can lie on the bed and watch me braise some of that chicken for a casserole.’

‘I was hoping we could watch the sunset from the south lighthouse.’ But he made his way obediently to the bed and sat on it, slipping off his trainers.

‘Sounds good. But a rest first.’

‘I’ve always liked controlling women.’

She made a face at him as she tucked him under the duvet and put a hot-water bottle at his feet. It seemed as if there were tears in his eyes, and she looked away quickly.
She collected the chicken pieces from the fridge and found onions and carrots in the vegetable rack. She wondered why she hadn’t done the natural thing: cupped his face and kissed him, gauged his response and reacted to it.

The chicken pieces sizzled alongside the onions and immediately smelled good. It was so long since they had made love. She remembered that she had almost confided to Naomi that they had not made love since Christmas. Thank God she had not given her that satisfaction.

She turned the chicken and stirred the onions. Naomi could – perhaps – have been banished into the shadows if she had kissed Jack just now. But … she was still there. Judith scooped the contents of the pan into a heavy casserole and sprinkled plain flour into the pan, then smoothed stock into it, and knew again with a kind of sick dread that they had to bring Naomi into the open and try to forgive her.

It was getting dark when Jack woke up. Judith was sitting by the range with a bowl of vegetables on her lap, peeling and slicing and feeling pleasantly relaxed and comfortable. The sound of the birds was beginning to make her drowsy, and when Jack suddenly suggested they take that walk to the south lighthouse to watch the sunset, she almost turned him down. He registered her obvious reluctance.

‘Don’t forget, the clocks will be going back soon.’

She turned her head to look at him and grinned, because his normally flat pale hair was sticking on end and his socks wrinkled around his feet.

‘Anyone would think we lived in darkness all through autumn and winter. But OK, let’s do it. We’ll never get as far as the lighthouse without falling over a cliff in the darkness – that’s a Lundy experience we do not want! But we’ll find a bit of high ground and watch from there.’

When they eventually ate their meal she admitted the expedition had been worth the effort. They had not gone far, retracing their steps of that morning and walking up the combe until they came to a suitable vantage point above the hotel. The breeze had strengthened, and they found a rock with a niche big enough to take the two of them and a view of almost three hundred and sixty degrees. They faced towards Land’s End, where the edge of the sun was just touching the sea, and stood silently drinking it in. The intensely golden path on the water spread outward and looked to engulf the lighthouse, but then was lost in the rabble of enormous rocks that had been the graveyard for so many ships. Just out of its light were flocks of seabirds like clouds on the water, riding the swell as if it were a lullaby.

‘I was going to try to paint this sort of thing when I was at Castle Dove.’ Judith gave a tiny laugh. ‘As if.’

‘It’s worth trying, Jude. Over and over again. It’s one of those journeys with no hope of arrival, but with its own peculiar satisfaction.’

‘Like Robert’s landscapes, d’you mean?’

‘Perhaps. I’m not sure about Robert. His journeys are so dark. But perhaps that can be said of all of us. I don’t know, Jude.’

He sounded lost again, and she held his arm to her side tightly and said, ‘Dancing in the dark, Jack. It can be marvellous. Candles and special outfits and romantic music.’ He responded by turning in to her as if to hold her close. She moved her head. ‘Darling, hang on! The sun is going – don’t miss it!’

He turned back; it was indeed down to its last slice, the sea darkening, the beam from the lighthouse coming into its own. She felt him shiver.

‘Come on, let’s get back. Time for supper and a good night’s sleep.’

They held hands happily enough, keeping a sharp eye out for rabbit holes and loose stones. They both knew that they had seen a magnificent sunset and missed out on a personal moment, but as Jack said suddenly, ‘If we stay a full fortnight all the shenanigans will have happened at home! The gang might even have found some accommodation of their own!’

She nodded. ‘Yes. We’ve got plenty of time.’

‘And no urgency.’

They went into the cottage, appreciating its warmth. Jack fiddled with the old-fashioned damper in the chimney breast and pushed the kettle on to the trivet. Judith reached for the mugs automatically.

He said suddenly, ‘I mean that, Jude.’

‘Mean what?’ She looked round, surprised.

‘About the urgency. There is none. Just to be with you is enough.’

She stared. ‘Oh, Jack. I’m sorry.’

‘That was why I kept it from you. I knew that you would always see her if you knew. I told myself that I was not deceiving you, I was simply preserving our relationship.’ He controlled the quiver in his voice, and deliberately changed his tone. ‘Deception and preservation!’

She said gently, ‘Come and sit down, darling. I wish … I wish we could go back to how we were … of course I do. But it’s better that we know about each other. And about Naomi.’ She wondered whether this was true.

He sat down; he looked ill again, and her heart sank.

‘I hated her, Jude. I’m no good at hating. I wanted her dead and out of my life for ever. And she died. But she’s still there.’

She held him and rocked him as if he were a child. She whispered, ‘Leave it all behind, Jack. We’re in a magic place.’

She knew that this sort of thing happened when he was tired; the sister had told her as much at Taunton only two weeks ago. But by the time they were both in bed she too was exhausted.

She cradled his head into her shoulder and remembered Jennifer and her introverted husband, Stanley. They had programmed their intimacies so carefully, and it had been mildly ridiculous until that evening in the orangery.

Judith put her cheek against Jack’s pale hair and wept.

Kitty Davies said they settled into Lundy quicker than anyone else who had been in Robert’s cottage, and what was more Lundy settled into them, too! They took this to mean that they were more conventional than most of Hausmann’s guests, and during their occasional evenings at the hotel they socialized easily with the twitcher community, the fishermen and the dedicated conservationists.

Judith thought of their island life as being on two levels, and was deeply grateful for ‘Kitty’s level’, as she labelled it. It included the sense of solitude, of living with nature, of ceasing to measure time by her watch. Her eyes registered degrees of light and darkness, her nose – which Jack told her twitched like a rabbit’s every time she left the cottage – kept her up to date with the coming of winter, though she admitted it also delighted in the morning smell of bacon from the hotel. The gulls assaulted all ears every morning, but were gentler during the daylight and evening hours. All the birds knew about the weather, too, and could accurately warn of a coming storm. Their cries mirrored human feelings beyond any other language. Plaintive nostalgia seemed their speciality at this time of the year, when the ever-present herring gulls said goodbye to the kittiwakes and the last
of the auk family and settled on the cliffs like colonies of welcoming committees – awaiting the arrival of the winter birds.

Apart from Kitty the regular human residents of Lundy tended to keep themselves to themselves, but Jack struck up an acquaintance with the shepherd who looked after David Davies’s considerable flock. Kitty told them he had arrived one summer years ago, intending to sit on a crag and write poetry. ‘It works very well with looking after our flock. They keep his feet on the ground and he does write some lovely stuff. I never quite understand it, but it’s like music – you got to listen to it. Then you see it.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s magic between two covers. But takes him ages. He doesn’t mind that, he’s very happy.’

Judith nodded; she knew that she and Jack could allow Lundy to settle into them in just the same way. Already the daily phone calls and texts from Matt and Len, and the odd one from Martha too, had an intrusive quality about them. It was good to know they were together back in Bristol and the ‘deal’ was going through. It was surprising – but not shocking – to hear that Toby was not going to join them after all. He was keeping the service in Perth operating until a good offer was finalized over there. Jack was of the opinion that Toby had no intention of returning to England. ‘He’s had a steady girlfriend for a long time. And he loves Australia – big open spaces – plenty of air.’

Judith understood that need, too. She had made sketches of several parts of the island, and was now experimenting with some of the Davieses’ hens’ eggs and a cache of powder paints discovered beneath the bed. She told Jack that egg tempura took more stirring than a dozen Christmas puddings.

She said absently, ‘Perhaps we could go to see Toby during
their spring or autumn, Jack. I like the idea of viewing an enormous landscape from the air.’

‘You could take photographs.’

‘Yes. Work on them later. We’ve seen something like that recently – an exhibition. Where was it? D’you recall?’ He shook his head just as she remembered. ‘It was at the Bristol College of Art. A collage piece.’

There was a silence, then he said, ‘I do remember. Naomi told me. You went with her.’

She stopped her gentle stirring, suddenly alert. He said, ‘Come on – don’t look like that. We said we would be open with each other. She had enjoyed it, and she thought I would be pleased that you and she were still friends. Actually, I was horrified.’

She recognized his facial expression and said fiercely, ‘
You
come on, Jack! Don’t you see how manipulative that makes her? It was part of the game – she was playing both sides at once.’

He said nothing, and she put a paint-smeared hand on his arm. ‘I thought we were so happy here, accepting what had happened and starting again.’

‘We are – oh, we are, Jude. And it’s so great that you’re working … trying things out … making a mess …’ He laughed and rubbed at his arm. ‘I wish in a way I wasn’t such a quick-fire artist – I love seeing you becoming immersed in making a painting.’

‘You send such a message, Jack. Straight from the shoulder.’ She laughed too, but she had noticed that he had not yet started on anything.

He shrugged. ‘Short-lived. Wrapping for fish and chips. Totally ephemeral.’

‘Not the impact. That will linger and grow for years.’

‘Sometimes. Perhaps.’ Jack signed. ‘I kept poor old Fish going when I hung about in Perth and then, quite suddenly, he became totally … irrelevant. I suppose if I’m honest, I was bored stiff with him.’

‘No, you weren’t. You came over loud and clear when you handed him over to me!’

He looked up. ‘Our first contact, Jude.’

‘I know.’ She smiled across the table. ‘Come on. We mustn’t get maudlin. Get your notebook and start on a script. I’ll finish this, then I’ll make tea and heat up some Welsh cakes – you can’t have anything until you’ve scripted a strip – and that’s not easy to say!’ She was spluttering over her words, and as he started to laugh again she added sternly, ‘I mean it – remember, one line is better than two, and that includes scripts.’