All the dear faces (55 page)

“
Can we do it, d'you think?" Annie breathed, her pale face colouring a little with excitement.

“
Oh, aye, straight up th'Edge. It be but a short walk an' as long as wind's blowin' towards us . . ."

“
No, I meant can we break a wild fell pony to pull a plough?"

“
I told you we could years ago. D'you remember the one Jack Bibby had to draw his cart from the mill?" Charlie watched the lovely flush of rose to her cheeks, rejoicing in the improvement in her during the past weeks. It was August, five months since Cat's death, and though she still grieved, deeply and silently within herself, she was beginning to take an interest in her farm again. Not just the forced interest that is needed to fill the enormous hole left by the loss of a loved one, but a genuine concern for the well-being of what she had already gained in the years behind her
.

Charlie had taken over Cat's room, sleeping in the narrow truckle bed in which Annie's daughter had slept and about the walls were the simple paintings Cat had done in the six months she had been a pupil at Miss Mossop's school. Flowers, trees, birds, a sleeping basket of kittens, all very crudely done but showing the promise Miss Mossop had hoped to foster. There was a rag doll, made for her years ago by her mother, a hairbrush on the dresser which had once belonged to Lizzie Abbott, her unknown grandmother, and in a drawer her tiny store of treasures. The books he himself had given her, a fir cone she had thought pretty, her beloved satchel, a dried wild flower pressed between two sheets of paper and placed between her freshly laundered undergarments which Phoebe washed and ironed almost every week since she did not want them to become stale, she said. It was her small, loving memorial to the child she had come to think of as her own
.

Charlie would lie on the bed at night, the window wide, the stars burning a myriad holes in the blackness of the night sky and sometimes, muffled and barely discernible to anyone who was not listening for it, there would be the sound of desolate weeping but he did not go to her. He was afraid. Afraid to damage the fine thread of understanding which was growing between them and had been ever since Reed Macauley had made his devastating and foolishstatement that he was to get a divorce and marry Annie Abbott. It was as though, knowing finally that there could never be more between herself and Reed than the involvement of a man and his mistress, however loving; that his desperate throw of the dice had made it plain to her how impossible anything else was, she faced the certainty of Charlie Lucas's love for her, and that a life with him would be worthwhile. Would be strong and honest and made up of a great deal which was valuable. Nothing was said but in small ways they were growing closer, more intimate. They did not touch except in the most casual, ordinary way. In the way she and Natty sat shoulder to shoulder on a wall, or she and Phoebe would link arms as they walked up the field, but it meant more between himself and Annie. She knew now how he felt about her. She knew what he wanted and made no objection to it and, recognising her honesty, he was aware that had she not wanted it, or him, she would have said so at once. He would wait. He loved her and would wait. He wanted her so badly. To know that she was no more than a couple of feet away from him was a constant gnawing agony to his male sexuality. Her long slender body lying in its sheath of modest nightgown which his masculine body badly needed to take from her; which his masculine eyes longed to look at, to study, to marvel at and love. His hands were desperate to touch and hold the naked thrusting curve of her breasts, to smooth and caress her long back, her sweetly turned waist and hips, the softly rounded satin of her belly, his fingers to investigate the moist and hidden sweetness at the meeting of her thighs. He had not been celibate in the months he had been away from her, burying his aching loins in other women's bodies but not once, as he pierced them, had he thought of anyone but Annie as he did so
.

The pit of his belly flared now as she leaned back in her chair and put her hands behind her head, her mind dwelling thoughtfully on how they were to capture and break one of the fell ponies Natty had described. She and Natty had meant to spend the day 'riving' the pieces of wood into
strips for her swill baskets. When the steaming pieces had been removed from the boiler where they had 'stewed' overnight, each one must be held between the knees to be split, and so she had donned her trousers and shirt that morning so as to be more comfortable. The weight she had lost had been regained and as she raised her arms the buttons on the collarless shirt strained and gaps appeared between them. She wore nothing but a thin cotton chemise beneath it but it was cut low, the two top buttons undone and the soft white skin of her upper breasts was clearly visible to Charlie as he sat beside her. He could see the rosy aureole beneath the fabric of the chemise, as big as guinea pieces and in their centre the pink buds of her nipples, small and pointed. She leaned further back and as he watched her the chemise dropped further and almost the whole of her breasts and both nipples became free beneath the shirt. They were magnificent, dark and yet rosy, surrounded by the creamy white satin of her skin. The shadowy valley between was deep and lovely, the flesh warm and full. He could not look away. His own flesh strained painfully against the crotch of his breeches and his heart hammered in his chest. His mouth became dry and with a muttered excuse he stood up and stumbled from the room into the warm, summer sunshine
.

He stood for ten minutes, fastened by his pain, not just the physical pain of a man roused and refused an outlet for that arousal but the need, the strong emotional need of a man who loves honestly, truly, and is denied a means to show it. It was so unbelievably beautiful on this empty shore of the lake. There were fields between it and Brow-head, and trees, but he could see the ripples on the water, shading as the breeze moved it, into patches of gold which eddied to silver. The patches grew and merged until half the lake was gold, the other half silver, two separate entities divided by a path of both colours where the sun shone across it, surrounded by a necklace of trees of every shade of green amongst which, on the other side of the lake, a small white farmhouse sheltered. There were celandines growing from the rocks on the water's edge, rough, greyrock patterned with the green of moss. Charlie loved it, loved her. They were intertwined, the beloved woman, the beautiful lake, and he knew he would never leave either, not while he lived
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They walked the wide shoulder of rough fell which turned south and climbed as a narrowing ridge to the dark and symmetrical peak of Ullock Pike before they saw the ponies. Annie strode beside him, coatless, for the day was warm and he was breathlessly aware again of her glorious breasts as they bounced, joyfully unconstrained with nothing between them and Charlie's eyes and hands but the thin stuff of her chemise and the worn fabric of her father's shirt. He could still see the outline of her nipples and he was forced to drop behind, conscious that the exquisite folly of looking at her, at her body, must in some way be curtailed
.

They passed through The Watches, a strange huddle of upstanding rocks growing from the grass which were believed to be a Druids' Circle though Charlie said he was of the opinion that the formation was natural. His voice, as he spoke, sounded high and strained but Natty and Annie did not seem to notice. The ponies were above them, just before what was known as The Edge began and at once Natty signalled for them to drop down on their bellies.

“
Wait here," he whispered, slithering off on some errand of his own and, shoulders touching, so close he had only to turn his head to look into her face, they lay side by side, hidden in the fragrant depths of the summer weather
.

He turned his head. Her cheek was pressed flat to the earth and her brown, excited eyes smiled into his. He smiled back, the warm strength of his love for her stripping away inhibition, restraint, sense. He moved a fraction closer and with great delicacy laid his lips to hers. For a moment, an appalling moment he thought she was going to flinch away, then she relaxed. Neither of them closed their eyes. Pale grey looked into golden brown, truth between them since he knew she did not love him as he
loved her and what did it matter? he asked himself for her mouth softened and opened for him and it was sweet and willing.

“
My love . . . my love . . ." His breath, fresh and pure, brushed her chin and her cheek, then his mouth moved to her throat and she let him, arching her neck, lifting her chin so that his lips might move more freely towards the open neck of her shirt.

“
I love you so much."

“
I know, Charlie."

“
My love . . ." and his mouth found hers again so that when Natty crept back they were unaware of it until he touched Annie's shoulder. They did not jump apart guiltily but turned their heads to smile at him and in Natty's eyes was a deep, glad understanding. She would be all right now.

“
Theer's a fine little bay, theer, can tha' see 'im, Charlie?" His whisper was close to Charlie's ear and reluctantly Charlie took away the arm he had placed across Annie's shoulders.

“
Yes, but how are we to get him away from the herd?"

“
Nay lad, ah've catched many a youngster such as 'im in me day. Let's see if ah remember 'ow. Ah want thee an' Annie ter creep round t'other side of 'em so that they get wind o' thi'. Shout as loud as thi' can. They'll run this way and ah'll be ready fer 'un." He patted the length of rope he had wound about his waist
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There were sixteen of them. A mature stallion, seven mares and their foals. It was surprising to see a young male amongst the herd since a stallion will drive away any usurper when he is about eighteen months old, but the colt grazed peaceably enough though it was noticed it kept well away from the 'leader'. Several of the foals were lying down in the sunshine
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It was like a child's game and both Charlie and Annie were giggling like children as they slithered through the heather, stopping frequently to lift their heads to see where the ponies were. Once he stopped her with his hand on her arm and when she turned questioningly, hekissed her again, more deeply. It was as though he was reminding her, placing his mark on her, telling her that the previous exchange had been serious despite the lightness of their embrace. She made no objection again, lifting her face to him willingly, smilingly
.

When they stood up and shouted the herd at once took flight, the foals, perhaps only months old, scrambling to their feet and following their mothers without a moment's hesitation, fast, automatic, a fundamental reaction which had been bred in them when predators such as wolves had threatened their ancestors. In the panic which ensued the ponies could barely see where they were going, and when Natty stood up directly in their path, the whistling song of his rope settled over the bay's head. It went unnoticed by the stallion, and certainly by the mares who had one ear on the disturbance and one on their own foal
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Annie looked as she had done before Cat's death. Her eyes were a brilliantly deep golden brown, clear and sharp with her joyous laughter. The colour ran gloriously beneath her skin and her mouth was wide in a great cry of excitement. She jumped up and down and clapped her hands when she saw that Natty had the bay, looking so like her own daughter in her delight, Charlie felt he could weep. For sweet, lovely Cat who was gone and for Annie who, at last, was coming alive again
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It took a long time to fetch the colt in. He squealed and stamped and kicked, his eyes rolling and wild with terror and rage, his hooves lethal as they struck out at Natty who held the rope and at Charlie who tried to throw an arm about his neck.

“
Let 'im go, tha' daft bugger," Natty shouted. "Let 'im wear 'imself out fer a bit. Bye, but 'e's in a right royal temper, that 'e is.
”

They called him 'Royal' and those first few weeks with him were hard and sometimes dangerous, but he was basically sweet tempered and, giving in to the inevitable, gradually became tame, domesticated, not only willing to put up with the hard work and strange things which were expected of him, but becoming interested in these curious
but kind creatures who had taken him from his freedom. He was accustomed slowly to what was needed from him, accepting Natty, Annie or Charlie as his leaders and companions, as he would other horses. Natty did the training, of course, for neither Annie nor Charlie had known horses. Royal became playful, almost a family pet, walking towards them with ears pricked, a 'long' nose, a jaunty prancing step and high tail, ready for fun since he was only young and Annie learned to ride him bare-backed since there was no such thing as a saddle at Browhead. It seemed to amuse him, to please him and she loved him as she loved Blackie and Bonnie
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On the day they caught him Natty and Phoebe had gone to their beds early as though by mutual consent, though nothing was said, and Charlie and Annie sat on by the fire. They could hear Royal's 'caterwauling', as Natty had put it, out in the pasture where, in case he should try and jump the drystone wall, Natty had tethered him. He sounded sad and dejected as he called to the herd but gradually his lonely whinnies died away and the dogs, whose ears had pricked in bewilderment at this strange sound, settled to doze in that half-wakeful, half-dozing state they fall into. It had turned cold and Charlie threw a couple of short logs on the fire, the flames leaping in a lively scatter of sparks up the chimney. Normally at this time of night as they made their way to bed the fire would be covered by the 'curfew', a low metal dome which kept it burning slowly, and the glowing embers would, the next morning, then have life breathed back into them with the bellows. But both Charlie and Annie knew that something must be said about what had taken place on Ullock Pike. Charlie with eagerness since he was certain that the time had come for him to stake his claim to the woman he loved. In Annie there was a tinge of dread mixed with a strange resignation since she loved Charlie and could not imagine life without him
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