Wishing Water (11 page)

Chapter Five

Philip couldn’t believe his good fortune. ‘Please take a seat, Miss Turner.’ His mind whirled through the possible reasons for her visit. Close to, she was even more attractive than his first glimpse of her by the lake. Young and fresh, with her hair in a swinging pony tail, the same wayward tendrils framing her face in a most beguiling manner, her beautiful slender body prettily decked out in a pink shirt-waister dress. ‘What can I do for you?’ He offered her his most charming smile. ‘Coffee?’
 

‘No, thank you. I don’t have much time as I must get back to work.’

She looked uneasy, embarrassed by whatever had brought her here. Philip Brandon’s heart sank. Surely she couldn’t be married, seeking a divorce from a rake of a husband? No, she was far too young. He held out a chair, not taking his eyes from her as she sat. Her legs were sweet perfection, long and smooth-skinned. He slipped his spectacles into his top pocket and realised with a jolt that she’d launched into some tale and he had missed it.

‘I have no wish to keep it. What would I do with a farm? But Nick is an old friend. There was a time when he might have liked ... Anyway, I want him to have Ashlea.’
 

Very gently Philip took her back to the beginning and piece by piece, with the very gentlest questioning, he had the entire life story from her. He guessed that she told more than she’d intended but then he was a sympathetic listener. It was a shock to learn she was only sixteen. Clearly mature for her age. He was astute enough to guess the effect the stigma of illegitimacy would have upon her.

He came round to sit upon the edge of the desk. Pansy eyes looked up into his, brimming with unshed tears and his heart clenched. ‘It must have proved such a burden for you. Heart-rending for a sensitive child to feel rejected at birth.’
 

‘You do understand. Oh, I’m so relieved. Few people do, you know.’
 

He gave her his wise, compassionate smile, debated whether he might take her hand but decided against it. ‘Ah, but I am different. Rather like a father confessor or family doctor. You can tell me anything, anything at all and I would not divulge a word of it.’
 

She warmed to him instantly. ‘I’d really like Nick to have Ashlea. He works the land and lives in the house so he deserves it. Can that be done?’
 

‘Nick is presumably your own age, so too young for a mortgage. No bank would consider him.’
 

‘What about Sally Ann?’
 

‘Of course. You could offer her a private mortgage, though farmers are notoriously irregular payers, preferring as they do to deal strictly in cash.’
 

‘Nick is very reliable.’
 

‘I’m sure he is. I should warn you that property with a sitting tenant has a very poor sale value.’
 

‘I don’t care about the money. I don’t want anything that belongs to the Ellis family. Nothing at all. Do you see?’
 

‘I do. Absolutely.’ He paused, hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his waistcoat then went to sit behind his desk again. ‘Pardon my saying so but that is a rather short-sighted view. There may be other property, or funds, to come.’
 

Lissa thought of Larkrigg and of her hard-hearted grandmother. Where would she leave her money? To a daughter whom she considered wicked and undeserving? To a granddaughter she refused to acknowledge? What did it matter? Lissa straightened her spine, smoothed her short white gloves and gave a dry smile.

‘It’s possible, but unlikely. My grandmother is more likely to leave her property to some charity or other. Probably the church. I sincerely hope so.’
 

‘Not to your mother?’ Eyebrows raised in query as he had become very still.

‘Who knows? They haven’t seen or spoken in years, which gives you some idea what I’m up against.’
 

‘Indeed,’ he said thoughtfully and gave a gentle smile. ‘How very sad for you.’
 

‘It’s all in trust until I come of age and I wondered if there was anything we could do about that?’
 

‘Certainly there is. I could write to the trustees and ask them if they could deal with the matter in this way. They may even agree to transfer the trusteeship of Ashlea to my firm, if I persuade them.’ He smiled, as if she had favoured him in some way, then became at once brisk and businesslike as he explained to her, most carefully, the ins and outs of the transaction but finished with a smooth word of advice. ‘You should perhaps reconsider your view of the future. Sell Ashlea to your friend by all means but income, from any source, is a valuable asset in today’s rapidly changing world. Is there no chance of a reconciliation with your grandmother?’
 

Lissa stood up, face tight. ‘No. That is quite out of the question. She would never... Neither would I. Please arrange this matter for me and send me your bill. I have a little money to pay the fee.’

He had offended her. Damn!

Philip led her to the door and risked taking her hand. It felt small and soft. The urge to raise it to his lips was almost overpowering. ‘I will carry out your wishes to the letter.’

‘I don’t want anyone to know about this. Not even Derry. I work with his sister and I’d rather keep my affairs private.’ She half glanced through the glass panel, thankful she had chosen a time when he was out at lunch.

‘You may rely upon my absolute discretion.’

She smiled at him then, a brilliant, wide, shining smile that revealed perfect white teeth and the smallest, pinkest, most delightful tongue.

‘Thanks,’ she said, issuing a deep sigh. ‘I do appreciate your help. It’s a real joy to be able to do something for Nick.’
 

He gave a light laugh. ‘You must be fond of him.’
 

‘Oh, yes. We’ve always been close. Like family, you know.’
 

‘I can see that you are a girl to whom family is important.’ A shadow flickered across her face and he was at once all contrition. ‘Oh dear, I seem bent on offending you. How very clumsy of me.’ He lifted the hand now and pressed his lips against it. Her skin tasted delicious but he would need to be very patient. ‘Forgive me,’ he murmured, smiling into her eyes.

Quite unable to help herself, Lissa found herself smiling back, responding to his charm.

As she hurried back to the shop she decided that Philip Brandon was really far more attractive than Derry had led her to believe. And so kind.

It was Derry’s idea that they go on a day-long hike the following Sunday, and Lissa and Jan readily agreed. The weather was calm and settled, the sun shining like a big soft round cheese and there were few holidaymakers to disturb the peace so early in the season as they caught the bus out to Skelwith Bridge.

The three of them were sensibly dressed in slacks and warm sweaters, for mountain weather can change even as you are wondering if it might. On their feet the girls wore strong shoes, Derry his favourite boots for he was a keen climber.

Lissa cast him a glance from beneath her lashes. He looked different today in his windcheater and rough cords, woollen socks replacing the hideous lime green, more approachable somehow.

‘Do you really go rock climbing?’
 

He pushed back his shoulders, preening himself, brown eyes glinting with such a cocky arrogance she almost wished she hadn’t asked. What a peacock he was. ‘Sure, would you like to try?’ Lissa haughtily assured him that she would not.

They got off the bus and walked along the lanes to the bridge where there were a few people sitting about having picnics. Where only a short while ago there’d been limp dead grasses, the verges were now clotted with yellow primroses thick as cream. Violets, bluebells and meadowsweet filled the clear mountain air with their fragrant scents. In a few weeks the scene would change yet again and foxgloves, wild roses and ox-eye daisies would have their moment of glory.

Lissa felt the excitement of a day free from the dusty confines of the old fashioned draper’s shop.

They walked up a dusty lane by the river that led up through the quarry work sheds. A few shirt-sleeved men sat joking and whistling as they worked the stones, splitting them on the grain with their special tools.

‘This is where they quarry the blue-green slate that makes Westmorland famous,’ Derry told her as if she’d never seen such a thing before.

She almost told him that they quarried stone on her fells too, but it sounded too petty. Besides, she’d no wish to think about quarries, or the roads that led to them. Not today.

They stood on the huge flat rocks at Skelwith Force and watched with wonder as the small waterfall rushed down in a cloud of white froth into the river below, swirled around huge boulders which forced it to gush and froth and gather in deep dark pools. It was like a fairy glen, a magic place where a water sprite would be sure to live, reminding Lissa suddenly of that other day in early summer when she and Nick had played their wishing game.

For a moment, homesickness claimed her. It didn’t happen so often nowadays and she knew it was foolish for she could visit Broombank at any time, only she rarely did. Transport was a problem and she felt instinctively that she wanted to make a place for herself here first, before she dared risk it. Or she might never have the courage to come back.

After a while they left the force and walked on up the rough footpath, across flat water meadows where the river widened and spread out until it reached Elterwater. Ahead lay some of the most dramatic scenery in Lakeland. Blue-grey crags jagged against the pale sky, dark rocky grandeur dropping precipitously to a thickly wooded fringe of trees below.

‘It’s like Switzerland,’ she said, breathing deeply her delight. ‘Or how I imagine Switzerland might look.’
 

‘It’s the Langdales, a special place,’ Derry said.

They reached the village of Chapel Stile and went on past the school and the post office, and up the big hill. When they grew hot from their walking they pulled off thick sweaters and settled in the lea of a drystone wall to eat their lunch. It felt cool and sheltered, whorls of yellow lichen rough and scratchy on their bare arms. They watched an Orange Tipped butterfly light on a bloom of lady’s smock and laughed in delight as a tree pipit descended like a spinning top in a graceful spiral of song.

‘Not used to walking?’ Derry teased as he saw her catching her breath, and Lissa was infuriated with herself for giving him another opportunity to show off.

‘Hardly, I grew up on the fells.’ she said scornfully. Her annoyance was made worse by the fact she could feel her cheeks growing warm under his amused gaze. Turning quickly to Jan, she offered more sandwiches, a piece of cake, a sip of water.

Derry made a sound very like soft laughter. ‘We won’t go as far as Bowfell today. I don’t think Lissa is quite up to it.’

Flushing a deep red Lissa longed to deny it but dare not, for she was indeed tired. It had been a hard week in the shop. Jan settled the matter.

‘Thank heaven for that. My legs are like jelly already.’

Proving her worth on a high mountain peak must wait for another day. They set out from Stool End to walk up the broad smooth incline, and after a while Derry made sure Jan was striding ahead, as she so loved to do, so he had Lissa all to himself.

‘You don’t say much, do you? Are you always so touchy?’ he asked. ‘Or have I done something to offend?’ His voice sounded so genuinely concerned that she was quite taken by surprise. He thought her standoffish, a bit uppity, when all the time she was simply - simply what? Nervous of possible rejection? Something of the sort. She didn’t like to think too deeply about it. Lissa only knew that she felt better, safer, when there was a certain distance between herself and others.

‘I don’t know what you mean.’
 

‘Is it because you think I’m a Ted? It’s only a style, you know, not a way of life. I don’t beat old ladies over the head with my comb.’ Despite herself, Lissa giggled and he gave her an answering grin, lopsided and so full of impish good humour that she very nearly laughed out loud. Derry Colwith might be a bit too full of himself, but he surely wouldn’t hurt or offend anyone.

Then he spoiled it all by starting to tell her about the climbs he’d done and how difficult they were.

‘And you, being Mr Wonderful, managed them with no difficulty whatsoever,’ she said dryly.

He blinked innocently at her. ‘How did you guess?’
 

‘Pity you didn’t land on your head. Might have knocked some sense into you.’ She flounced away, walking so fast he had to run to catch up. He said nothing for a while and
 

for some reason, perhaps to fill the silence, Lissa found herself talking about Broombank and the sheep, Nick and Daniel, and how they had played in the beck as children. Derry listened, asking questions from time to time as if he were really interested. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad after all.

Once, he took hold of her hand as she stumbled and a series of tiny shocks ran right through her. Instinctively she lifted her face up to his, violet eyes coaxing and teasing. His stunned expression warned her that she trod on dangerous ground and quickly loosed his hand. But she regretted its loss.