Across the Sands of Time (12 page)

Polly's heart quailed. Somehow she must try to visit her mother. How could she manage it? She wanted desperately to go but the terms of her employment were clear. No leave granted until she had been with the family for twelve calendar months. Polly had only done six as yet.

Even so, perhaps she should contemplate approaching her mistress for leave. Polly pulled the spluttering candle closer and read on.

Polly read the letter to the end, smiling a little at her aunt's witty narrative, biting her lip anxiously as she read again the news of her mother's decline. Too consumed with anxiety to seek her bed, she fetched writing materials and began to pen a letter of response.

Here, too, was a chance to share the problem over Harry Kendrick. Jessica would know what to do.

 

At Parkgate, Jessica studied Polly's missive with interest. Her niece had a sparky turn of phrase and her anecdotes on the small girls and their escapades brought a chuckle. It stopped when she read of the amorous elder son. That Harry! Waylaying pretty nursemaids was not his only weakness, if what she had heard was to be believed – his appetite for gambling and carousing being rife.

It was high time his father took him in hand. Jessica only hoped that Polly had the wit to avoid trouble.

Putting the letter aside for now, she rang for her maid. After several moments the girl appeared, very out of breath, her cap askew as always.

‘There you are, Agnes. Straighten your cap, child. And look at your apron. It's very soiled.'

‘I'm sorry, ma'am. I was peeling the potatoes and—'

‘In your housemaid's apron? How often do I have to tell you? You wear your drugget one for kitchen tasks and save your other for wearing out of the kitchen.'

‘Yes'm.' The maid bobbed a curtsy. ‘Sorry, ma'am. It'll try to remember, but all this chopping and changing puts me in a twist. Yesterday, I changed that many times I clean forgot where I'd put my good pinny, and by the time I'd found it and put it on the caller had given up and gone!'

Mustering patience, Jessica continued with the task in hand.

‘Have you delivered my invitations to dinner, Agnes?'

‘Yes'm. Mr Rawlinson was in the garden when I turned up so I handed it over to him personally. Very pleased he was with it, too.'

Jessica suppressed a smile. Her little sojourn with George was progressing splendidly. He had sent her a carafe of Rhenish the other day. Before that it was a length of Italian silk for a gown. She did not need to enquire from whence the bounty came.

Most folks hereabouts benefited from a little quiet trafficking and she was no different.

‘And Master Edward? Did he receive his?'

‘Oh, yes'm.' Agnes put her hand to her lips and giggled. ‘A real tease, is Master Edward. There's no harm in him, though,' she added hastily.

‘I should hope not indeed! Agnes, about that the young fisherman who calls.…'

‘He's due later today, ma'am. Will I tell you when he arrives?'

‘Please do, Agnes. That will be all for now.'

 

That afternoon, Jessica met up with John Royle. The pleasant-looking, quietly spoken young man was not what she expected.

‘I shan't beat about the bush,' she told him. ‘It has come to my knowledge that you wish to exchange your present trade for a venture into the teaching profession.'

‘That is correct, Miss Platt,' John said mildly.

‘And have you any qualifications in this area?'

‘As many as the next man. I spend much time studying. I have a knowledge of Latin, a smattering of other languages and am an able mathematician and scriber.'

‘I don't doubt it,' Jessica murmured more to herself.

‘Ma'am?'

‘Oh, 'tis nothing. An irritating habit of mine. Irritating to others, that is. Mr Royle, do you mind my asking if you have obtained premises for this school?'

‘Not at all, though I'm afraid the answer is no. I must have made enquiries into every available property in the district, all to no avail.' He looked wry. ‘No one is prepared to deal with a common fisher lad. I shan't give up. One day something will come along.'

‘Then I wish you well in your quest, John Royle.'

‘Thank you, ma'am.'

Long after the young man had gone Jessica sat at her desk, deep in thought. Perhaps she had been too hasty in removing Polly. She had liked John Royle and saw what an admirable couple they would have made. Oh, there was that absurd matter of the betrothal between Polly and George, but that could have been dealt with. Jessica was altogether fond of her niece. She was saddened to have been so mistaken.

 

Thea woke with a start. Her throat was dry, her head heavy. She felt as if she'd been up all night instead of sleeping in her bed. Realizing it was Saturday, with no immediate hurry to get up, she rolled on to her back and let her mind drift. Her ‘dream' characters, she thought ruefully, were going through as bad a patch as herself.

Or was it all fiction? Were the curious sequences that came to her as she slumbered a result of her own troubled state of mind? At Dominic's suggestion, she had acquainted herself with some reading on what was termed ‘waking dreams'.

Thea was prepared to accept them for what they were; scenes from the past visiting the dreamer with extraordinary accuracy. But why her? And why now?

Giving up, Thea rose and headed for the shower.

‘Darling, you look dreadful,' Mae cried as Thea came into the kitchen, her eyes shadowed in her pale face. She had shampooed her hair and bundled it up turban-like in a towel, which did nothing for her strained appearance.

‘Thanks!' Thea shot her mother a pained look. ‘I had a bad night, Mum, that's all. Nothing to worry about.'

‘But I am worried. Is it Dominic? You can tell me not to pry if you like….'

‘As if I would.' Thea smiled ruefully, accepting the tea and toast her mother handed her with a quick smile of affection. She buttered it thoughtfully. Trust me, Dominic had said, but how could she?

‘Yes, you're right about Dominic, Mum. Something's going on
… I don't know the details. Just that an ex-girlfriend has arrived on the scene and she's … well, what Richard would call a bit of a stirrer. Very glam, too.'

Her voice trailed off.

Mae sank down opposite at the table.

‘Oh, dear.'

‘Quite. Dominic has a past he doesn't talk about.' She shrugged. ‘All I can say is it was something to do with a doping scandal and it turned nasty.'

‘Dope? Racehorses, you mean?'

Thea nodded.

‘You know he was resident vet at Ferlann Ridge. Well, his girlfriend – they were engaged then – was somehow involved. Dominic was cagey over her part in things. It shattered the relationship, anyway. At least, so he said. And then she turns up again and off he goes with her.'

She sighed.

‘I suppose that's men for you.'

‘Darling, Dominic doesn't strike me as being the fickle type.'

‘Me, neither, but it's scary how manipulative some women can be. Look at Bryony. I wouldn't mind betting she had designs on Geoff all along.'

‘Thea, surely not!'

‘Well, she was always prinking and preening when he was around. We used to laugh about her. Not that it makes any difference now.'

‘No,' Mae agreed. ‘Though I think you're being too hard on your sister. She may have been infatuated but she I'm sure she wouldn't have deliberately set out to steal Geoff from you.'

Thea wasn't so certain. A permanent rift between herself and her sister wasn't what she wanted, but following the events of the past weeks she had to wonder if she could ever trust anyone again.

 

‘Honestly, Geoff, it's not on,' Bryony fumed as they crossed the spacious yard at Roseacre. Yesterday, she had bumped into her mother during her lunch break and been kept for ages on the
bustling pavement while Mae unburdened her worries. ‘All Mum could talk about was Thea and how stressed out she is! Some things never change. Thea always was the shining light.'

‘I don't think that's quite the case,' Geoff said gently, pausing in a patch of mellow November sunshine to stand and smile down at her. The cattle were up for the winter, and from their quarters issued an urgent lowing that suggested milking was imminent.

‘I was always aware of how Mae spoke with equal affection of all of you. Chas was different. You could do no wrong in his eyes!'

‘Good old Dad! Bryony chuckled. ‘Someone has to champion the lost cause!'

‘Hey – stop putting yourself down.' He looked seriously at her. ‘Bryony, isn't it time you made it up with your folks? My mother's never said as much, but I'm sure it worries her that you never go home.'

‘Woodhey isn't home any more,' Bryony said evenly. ‘Too much has happened.'

‘Of course it is! They're your kin and they love you. These things happen in the best of families, but with a bit of effort on both sides they can usually be resolved. Will you think about it, at least?'

It was an issue Bryony had purposely avoided. Chatting to Mum in town now and again was fine, but the prospect of facing her whole family was daunting. The longer she put it off the harder it became. Then again, she supposed Geoff was right. She'd have to think of an excuse for dropping in … some time.

Geoff was looking at her very hard and Bryony, holding his gaze, gave a hesitant nod.

‘That's my girl!'

In the cattle byre the cows increased their complaint and Geoff glanced up.

‘We'd better get on with the milking. What if we go out for a bite to eat afterwards? It's a fine day. We could drive to Southport.'

Bryony's heart leaped. It would be great to go out with Geoff and linger together over a meal.

‘That would be lovely,' she said. ‘But what about your mum? Sunday lunch at Woodhey was always a big thing with my parents.
I expect it was the same here? We can't very well leave her on her own just yet.'

‘You know, you're right. I'd forgotten there's sure to be a roast on the go.'

Geoff rubbed his face wearily with his hand. Bryony's heart softened. She knew how hard the difficult recent weeks had been for him. A few hours' respite away from the farm would have been no bad thing.

‘So what do you suggest?' he asked eventually.

‘We eat here with your mum as usual – and maybe go for an Italian one night in the week? Thursday might be best. It's Helen's WI evening so she'll be out as well.'

‘You're brilliant! Did I ever mention what a great PA you'd make?'

‘Not in so many words, but I'm always open to flattery!'

‘Cheek!' His mood lifted noticeably. He gave Bryony a playful shove. ‘Get along with you, woman. Fetch those animals across before they bust the doors down!'

Laughing, Bryony went to do as he asked. Her flatmate and best friend Liz thought her plainly mad to tie herself down at weekends like this, but if she were honest, she liked nothing better. Working alongside your man, knowing your animals were well looked after and the farm running smoothly, brought a deep satisfaction she could not fathom or even understand.

It had never been like this at Woodhey.

Gaining the doors of the cattle shed, Bryony bit her lip. Only, Geoff wasn't her man, was he? She only pretended he was and had almost convinced herself that it was true. If only things were different….

 

Rain splattered against the windscreen and Dominic, decreasing his speed slightly on the windswept coastal road of south-east Ireland, flicked the wipers to full strength.

‘This had better be worth my while,' he said, with a sideways glance at Aisling.

‘It will be. Do you think I'd drag you back here otherwise?'

‘I'm not sure, exactly. I just wish you weren't always so damned mysterious, Aisling.'

‘I'm not. I just think it's better for you to hear it for yourself.'

In the back of the hire car, Trina whined worriedly.

‘Hush,' Dominic murmured to the dog. ‘Nearly there. At least, so I hope. Why Wexford, anyway?' he asked Aisling.

‘Because the guy we're going to see is a Wexford man. Don't question me any more, Dom. Just wait and see. It'll be in your interest.'

‘So you keep saying,' Dominic muttered.

The past twenty-four hours had been gruelling. Yesterday, just before morning surgery, his boss had called him through to the office for a word.

‘I'll come straight to the point, Dominic,' Freddie Barnes had said. ‘Something has come to my attention that could be bad for the practice. You know Bob Perrit?'

‘Sure I do.'

He had been called out to the man's racing yard many times.

‘He rang me last night. It was over that doping scandal at Ferlann Ridge last year.' Freddy paused significantly. ‘You never mentioned you were involved.'