The Lady and the Lake (8 page)

‘I’m
sure
you’ll
do,
Miss
Sinclair.’
Antony
Kershaw’s
voice
came
to
me
from
some
little
distance
away
and
my
cheeks
flushed.

‘I
do
hope
so,’
I
countered
with
some
embarrassment.
For
some
reason
I
felt
uncomfortable
today
in
this
man’s
presence
and
was
not
looking
forward
to
the
journey
with
him.

A
pony
and
trap
had
been
brought
to
the
front
and
once
more
I
stepped
on
to
the
gravel
path.
Mr
Kershaw
helped
me into
the
trap
beside
him.
I
needn’t
have
worried.
He
was
silent
all
the
way
while
I
looked
around
at
the
scenery
which
was
unchanging
until
we
reached
the
small
village.
A
row
of
white
thatched
cottages
cut
their
way
defiantly
through
the
surrounding
moor.

I
observed
a
blacksmith’s
and
a
communal
tap
where
a
couple
of
women
were
filling
large
buckets.
As
we
approached,
they
turned
away,
for
what
reason
I
could
not
understand.
But
very
soon
I
was
to
find
out.
I
was
somewhat
surprised
when
the
trap
pulled
up
beside
the
village
church.

‘But
I
thought
we
were
to
go
to
the
schoolroom,’
I
uttered.

‘Come,
you
will
see.’
As
he
spoke,
Mr
Kershaw
helped
me
alight.
We
walked
through
the
lychgate
and
along
the
path
flanked
either
side
by
many
grey
moss
covered
tombstones.

In
one
corner
I
could
see
a
large
mausoleum
which
I
was
keen
to
look
at
closely.
I
followed
Mr
Kershaw
through
the
church
door
and
stepped
on
to
the slab
floor.
It
felt
cold
in
here
and
smelled
damp
despite
the
warmth
of
the
early
morning
sun
and
I
wondered
why
he
had
brought
me
here.

On
the
right
hand
side
of
the
church
entrance
was
a
low
wooden
door.
My
companion
lifted
the
latch
and
I
followed
him
up
the
stone
steps
which
led
us
into
a
small
room.

Here
the
sun
did
shine
through
a
window
and
five
small
children
sat
cross-legged
on
the
wooden
floor,
slates
and
chalks
in
their
little
hands
and
the
girls
wearing
white
starched
aprons
over
their
dresses.

In
the
corner,
writing
on
a
blackboard,
was
a
schoolmistress
dressed
in
black,
the
braids
of
her
fair
hair
entwined
into
a
knot
at
the
back
of
her
head
with
a
white
lace
cap
covering
her
head.
I
gasped
in
surprise.

‘I’ve
never
seen
a
room
like
this
before
above
a
church
porch.
I’m
sure
it’s
unique,’
I
enthused.

‘It
may
well
be,
Miss
Sinclair.
Let
me
introduce
you
to
Miss
Anderson.’
The schoolteacher
stopped
writing
on
the
blackboard
and
inclined
her
head
towards
me.

‘Pleased
to
make
your
acquaintance,
Miss
Sinclair,
and
please
meet
my
five
young
charges,
Rosie,
Clara,
Victoria,
Michael
and
Danny.’
She
indicated
the
children
one
by
one
and
as
each
name
was
spoken
they
all
replied,
‘Hello,
Miss
Sinclair.’
I
was
quite
touched
by
the
whole
scene.

‘Good
morning,
children,’
I
replied
with
enthusiasm.
I
knew
I
was
going
to
enjoy
this
new
experience.
There
was
a
list
of
lessons
for
each
day,
mainly
spelling,
writing
and
arithmetic
and
each
day
they
were
to
be
taken
on
a
short
walk
across
the
moor.

Mr
Kershaw
and
I
left
the
schoolroom
with
the
children’s
farewells
ringing
in
our
ears.
It
was
nice
to
step
into
the
sunshine.
I
looked
up
into
the
sky
which
was
a
perfect
blue.
Another
beautiful
day
was
in
store
and
I
wondered
how
bleak
the
moor
would
look
on
a
grey
and
rainy
day.

‘I
have
to
visit
the
general
store
for
some
comfits
for
Emily,’
Antony
Kershaw’s
voice
drifted
across
to
me.

‘Very
well.
May
I
look
around
the
churchyard
while
you
are
gone,
please?
I
like
to
look
at
names
engraved
on
headstones
for
they
all
tell
a
story.’

This
was
true.
What
I
didn’t
want
to
tell
him
was
that
I
intended
to
take
a
closer
look
at
the
mausoleum
for
I
was
sure
it
was
the
Kershaws’
monument.

‘That
will
be
fine,
Miss
Sinclair.
I’ll
be
about
three-quarters
of
an
hour.
Don’t
trip
over
anything,’
he
said
solicitously
and
then
added,
‘The
last
thing
I
need
is
a
female
with
a
sprained
ankle.’