The Girl by the River (11 page)

Watching the two girls set off for school on the summer morning, Kate had breathed a sigh of relief. Impressing Susan and Lexi was important to her, mostly because they had horses. Lexi was a
riding instructor, and Freddie called her ‘Ian Tillerman’s leather-bottomed sister’. Susan’s children, Fiona and Michael, were already riding and winning rosettes on two
feisty little ponies. Kate wanted Lexi to be so captivated by her well behaved, courageous daughters that she would offer to teach them to ride. It was the one thing she and Freddie disagreed
about.

‘I know you love horses,’ he’d said. ‘You grew up with them, Kate. But I’ve always been wary of them, see? I don’t want you going riding racehorses like you
used to, with that – that Ian Tillerman. He is a TOFF.’

‘Yes – he is,’ Kate agreed, ‘but he can’t help it. And not all horsey people are toffs.’

‘Well, I don’t want our girls turning into two leather-bottomed toffs,’ declared Freddie, ‘and it’s not only that – riding is a dangerous sport.’

‘Ooh, I love a bit of danger!’ Kate said, her eyes lighting up at the memory of galloping with the wind in her hair. ‘It’s character forming.’

Freddie looked at her sadly. ‘Our two little girls are precious to me, Kate, really precious, and I’m happy just to see them run to me at the end of the day, with their eyes shining
like stars. I don’t want no sadness or struggle for them, like I had. Let them simply live and be happy. Don’t drive them.’ He put his cap on, and kissed Kate tenderly on the
lips. ‘I gotta go to work now, dear. And you remember that, will you? Don’t drive them.’

In her deepest heart, Kate knew that Freddie was right. But she felt driven by her own sense of adventure. She missed the farm life and the loving animals she’d grown up with.
Freddie’s life seemed dominated by engines which he talked to as if they were dogs. He worked for hours into the night on some oily lump of black metal, whistling and singing out in his
workshop. Increasingly, people were asking him to fix anything mechanical from lawnmowers to lorries. Freddie was even talking about buying a garage and setting up in business. He’d succeed,
Kate was sure, but she dreaded it. She didn’t want her children to grow up in a smelly, oily garage in the middle of town.

To get what she wanted for her girls, she would have to be manipulative, Kate thought, relishing the challenge. And today’s tea party was a step in the right direction.

A dramatic clatter of hooves sent Kate rushing to the front door. She gazed up the lane as a smart, high-stepping hackney pony sped into view, with Lexi, red-cheeked and rake thin, sitting high
on the seat of a carriage, holding tightly to the long reins, the muscles glinting in her leathery arms. Thrilled with the energy and the polished black coat of the pony, Kate stood at the garden
gate, waving. Susan sat on the back seat with Fiona and Michael on each side of her.

‘Whoa!’ Lexi brought the pony to a halt, its bridle jingling. ‘Whoa, Tarquin.’

‘Ooh, how lovely! What an arrival!’ Kate felt the heat from the pony. She sensed the pain in his neck from being too tightly arched, and she immediately gave the hyped-up creature a
hug, rubbing his ears and mane as the reins eased. ‘There. Good boy, Tarquin. You HAVE done well,’ she soothed, ‘and you’ve come to see Kate. Well, I might find you a
carrot.’ She nipped into the garden and pulled one of the carrots Freddie had grown.

‘Good grief!’ Lexi exclaimed. ‘What an extraordinary carrot.’

‘Some of them are two foot long,’ Kate said, brushing off the red Somerset clay and feeding the orange carrot into the pony’s velvet lips. The sound of crunching teeth echoed
down the lane.

‘By the way, we are here too, Kate,’ Lexi said, swinging her lean brown-booted legs down from the carriage.

‘I know you are, and a warm welcome,’ Kate beamed at Lexi and Susan. Both wore Aertex polo shirts open at the neck, breeches and boots, and silk headscarves with horses on them, tied
under their chins.

Michael, six, and Fiona, five, looked confident and disciplined. They sat still in the carriage and waited for Lexi to tell them to get down. Susan looked intimidated as always, Kate thought,
feeling sorry for her. She’d been a good nurse and had enjoyed the camaraderie of working in the hospital. She and Kate had laughed and cried together through the wartime. But now Susan had
gone back into her shell, especially since marrying into Ian’s managerial family. She seemed totally overshadowed by Lexi, as she had been by her mother.

‘What’s for tea, Kate?’ Lexi asked. ‘I’m starving.’ She deftly unhitched the pony from the carriage. ‘Bring him into the garden, Sue,’ she
commanded. ‘Tie him up to that ring in the workshop wall. Freddie won’t mind, will he Kate? Then we can have tea in peace. Where are the children? Don’t let them go running round
behind Tarquin. He kicks, especially if he doesn’t know someone.’

‘They’ll be back from school any minute.’ Kate glanced down the lane, thinking Lucy and Tessa were later than usual.

‘I hope they’re well-behaved children,’ Lexi said in her ringing voice. ‘I can’t stand brats.’

‘Don’t worry, they know what’s expected of them,’ Kate said. ‘You’ve met them before, haven’t you?’

‘Course we have,’ said Lexi. ‘Now Lucy, I could pick her up and take her home. She’s a charming little thing – but the other one, Tessa, she’s a different
kettle of fish. I’ve never seen her smile, and she won’t answer when you talk to her. Always in a bad mood.’

Kate felt a tiny bubble of anger rising, but she smiled disarmingly at Lexi’s challenging eyes. ‘Wait ’til she sees my Victoria sponge,’ she beamed. ‘It’s
their favourite tea.’

‘We found Tessa surly and difficult.’ Lexi was in for the kill. She stared demandingly at Susan. ‘Didn’t we, Sue?’

Susan looked appealingly at Kate as if she was a guiding light. ‘Maybe – a bit,’ she mumbled and looked at the floor. Disagreeing with Lexi was a risk she wasn’t going to
take.

‘Children come in all shapes and sizes,’ Kate said brightly. ‘I try and treat our two the same. What one has, the other has – and Freddie adores them. I wouldn’t
change them for the world. Is this Tarquin’s hay net?’ she asked, unhooking the sweet-smelling bundle from the back of the carriage. She put her arm round the pony’s sleek neck.
‘Come on, you come with Kate and we’ll find you a drink of water, and tie you up in the shade. Ooh, you are beautiful.’

Tarquin gave Kate an affectionate push with his nose. She missed horses so much. She led him over to the stone water trough and let him drink. Watching the lane for a sign of Lucy and Tessa
returning, she was surprised to see Miss O’Grady herself come into view, striding along with Lucy beside her. For once Lucy looked serious, her small back importantly straight as she walked
beside her teacher. Where was Tessa?
Something’s
wrong
, Kate thought. Not today, of all days – with Lexi and Sue here.

At the same time, Annie was struggling down the garden path in her best navy blue dress, her eyes bright at the prospect of a tea party, a plate of scones in her hand. She walked awkwardly now,
her wide hips seesawing, her ankles turned inward. She’d put on a lot of weight that year from sedentary living and unaccustomed plenty.

There was no escape. They all met in the lane outside the garden gate. Annie, Lexi and Susan with her two obedient children, and Miss O’Grady and Lucy. Kate tied Tarquin up quickly and
bustled over there, the beat of her heart quickening with anxiety.

‘Don’t CRY,’ snapped Miss O’Grady as Lucy’s face crumpled. ‘Your mother doesn’t need any MORE trouble. Hold your head up and don’t be
silly.’

Bewildered, Lucy glanced dubiously at Lexi and Susan. She went straight to her mother. Kate could feel the sobs shaking Lucy’s little body as she leaned against her. ‘Lucy!’
she crooned. ‘This isn’t like you.’ She gave Miss O’Grady a searching stare. ‘Don’t tell her not to cry. Something’s obviously wrong. What is it?
Where’s Tessa?’

‘Tessa just upped sticks and ran out of the classroom. Little madam.’ Miss O’Grady pursed her thin lips and a forklike frown dissected her face. ‘In the middle of a
poetry lesson, if you please.’

‘There – I told you, didn’t I?’ said Annie triumphantly. ‘I always said there was something wrong with that child.’

‘Nothing a good slap wouldn’t cure,’ said Lexi.

Humiliated, Kate tried to shoo them away. ‘Why don’t you go in and start tea?’ she suggested. ‘I can sort this out. Go on Lucy – you take Lexi and Susan into the
dining room and show them where to sit. I won’t be long.’

It got worse. Lucy clung to her, the sobs still shaking her slim body. Miss O’Grady’s next remark was a shock. The words exploded from her thin lips like gunfire. ‘I have to
tell you, Mrs Barcussy, that I’m sorry but I cannot have your daughter at our school any longer. She is sullen and disruptive. And – and unmanageable.’

A hungry silence opened its jaws between them standing there in the lane with Miss O’Grady glaring at Kate.

Kate’s cheeks went crimson. She tossed her glossy black hair, and glared back. ‘No, you can’t do that, Miss O’Grady. Tessa’s only seven. We can sort it out if we
sit down and talk it over. I won’t have it. Don’t think you can expel my daughter, Miss O’Grady, because I won’t let you. Why did she run away? And where is she now?
I’d like to know, please.’

Annie was looking admiringly at Kate. She took Lucy. ‘Come on, you come inside with Gran, and you two. We’ll start tea. You carry that plate.’ She gave Lucy the plate of scones
and marched her inside. After a curt thumb jerk from Lexi, Michael and Fiona scrambled down from the cart and floated after them like two ghost children.

But Lexi stood there, her riding boots planted squarely in the grass, her lean face concerned as Kate and Miss O’Grady eyeballed one another. Clearly, Kate was going to win.

‘Where is Tessa?’ Kate asked again, and the answer made her go cold all over.

‘We don’t know. She’s not in the school building. I expected her to be here.’ Miss O’Grady went pale. ‘Isn’t she?’

‘No. So where is she? What time did she run away?’

‘About half past ten. I assumed she’d run home.’

‘Half past TEN? That’s hours ago. Surely someone could have looked for her? Couldn’t you have telephoned me?’

A blend of panic and fury was driving Kate. She struggled to remain courteous. ‘We do have a telephone, you know. Don’t you know how to use one?’

‘Most families in Monterose don’t have such a luxury as a telephone. It’s not normal practice for our school to be spending time and money telephoning parents who can’t
– who don’t . . .’ The words died on Miss O’Grady’s wiry lips as she caught the glint in Kate’s eyes. She took a deep breath and looked at her watch. ‘You
realise my school day actually ended half an hour ago? I brought Lucy home, and that’s it. You must find Tessa yourself, Mrs Barcussy. I wash my hands of her.’

Kate gasped in disbelief, and felt a restraining hand on her arm. ‘I suggest you go home then,’ Lexi said, acidly. ‘You’re beneath contempt. Go on. Buzz off.’

Kate was shaking as they watched the thin figure stalking away from them. She leaned on the field gate opposite the house, trying to stay calm, her brown eyes scanning the miles of wild flower
meadows and the thickly blossomed hedges. She stared down at the river valley. A rich haze of buttercups and red sorrel. A sliver of light on the water. The river! A crippling memory made her clasp
her hands to her temples so tightly she wanted to crush her own skull.

Ethie!

When they lived in Gloucestershire, Ethie had gone to the river. Ethie, like Tessa, had been obsessed with water. And Ethie had never come back. Missing, presumed drowned. Until, one terrible
day, a sheep farmer had found her body, miles upstream, a victim of the Severn Bore.

Surely it couldn’t happen again? Could it?

Despite the child’s difficult personality, Kate loved Tessa fiercely and unconditionally, the way she’d loved Ethie. The difference was that Kate needed Tessa. With both her
children, the mother love had overwhelmed her. It was an unexpected, awesome power, a demanding power which hadn’t made her a better, wiser parent. It had made her vulnerable, and Kate had
never felt vulnerable. She’d always been confident and in charge of her life. Until Lucy and Tessa had taken it over, taken her heart and most of her energy. Even her fine private education,
her hard nursing training and the frugal, nerve-wracking wartime years had not prepared Kate for the maternal savagery that engulfed her life now. It was a different kind of love. A savage,
protective love that didn’t gel with behaving like a nice girl from a nice family.

‘Kate!’ Susan was beside her, quietly supportive, her arm around Kate’s shoulders. ‘Don’t worry – she’s bound to be somewhere nearby. Lexi and I will
help you find Tessa.’

‘But it’s FIVE HOURS she’s been missing! With no lunch and no coat,’ Kate said desperately. ‘Where did she go? Why – oh why didn’t she come
home?’

‘One more load, Freddie. All right?’ Herbie shouted over the roar of the lorry’s engine.

‘Yeah, all right. She’s got just enough petrol,’ Freddie said. He looked at Herbie’s eyes shining blue in his dust-covered face. The whole man was covered in stone dust
and might have been a stone carving of a gargoyle. ‘I’d do anything for you.’ Freddie’s eyes twinkled as he nodded at Herbie and drove away, enjoying the shudder of the
engine and the way it responded to his touch. One more load of blue-lias stone, then he could go home to Kate and his two little girls. It was their anniversary, but Freddie was glad to be missing
out on the tea party. It was women’s stuff. He felt awkward, especially around Lexi and Susan.

Following the winding road over the Poldens through the green twilight of the woods, Freddie remembered the happy picnics he’d shared with Kate, and the games they’d played with the
children. He longed to stop and rest on the ridge-way, to walk up there on springy turf and see the butterflies, especially the large blues which appeared in June. He wished Kate had arranged a
picnic, just for the four of them, not a tea party dominated by disapproving aunties and his mother’s indefatigable negativity.