Larkrigg Fell (30 page)

‘For God’s sake. Can’t you forget them for a minute? Can’t they look after themselves for once? I thought you’d moved out?’

She looked astounded. ‘I have but we’re still a team. We each have our own job to do. I promised mine would be to look after Larkrigg and the animals. I love it. Sarah is earning the money so I can hardly expect her to cook her own meal as well. It wouldn’t be fair. I must go.’ She started forward but he grabbed her arm and held her fast.

‘I need to talk with you, Beth. There are things I must get off my chest or I’ll go mad.’

She pushed back her hair with an impatient hand as she avoided direct eye contact with him. ‘Heavens, how very serious you sound. Get on with it then! I’ve told you, I haven’t all day.’ She realised her tactless mistake as soon as she saw the flicker of pain cross his face but it was too late, the words were out. She couldn’t call them back. He released her arm and stepped away from her. ‘Another time perhaps, when you’re not in such a hurry.’

‘Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t think.’

‘No, Beth. That’s your trouble, you don’t think. And you don’t see what’s in front of your nose either.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Never mind.’ He ran a grubby hand over his face, in a gesture of such weariness that her heart went out to him. Something had upset him badly. Whatever could it be? Why had he never married, she wondered? Did he still mourn for Tess?

‘If there’s something troubling you, tell me,’ she urged.

‘What’s going on? That’s what I’d like to know.’

Her heart began to pound. So that was it. They’d been discovered. He’d seen them together, out on the fell. Oh, dear lord, why did it have to be Andrew? ‘I - I don’t know what you mean.’

‘You know well enough. I’m not blind. You’re still mad for him, I can see that. That’s why you moved in with Ellen. And you’re still seeing him. He isn’t right for you, Beth. Believe me, he isn’t. We need to talk.’

Anger rose in her chest. How dare he tell her what was right or wrong for her? And why did he always have to be so damned sure of himself, so touchy and mysterious. She backed away, lifting her chin in haughty disdain. ‘I have no wish to quarrel with you Andrew, but really I think this is my business, not yours. I really can’t bear any more...’

Whatever it was she really couldn’t bear, Andrew never discovered as they both heard the sound at the same instant, and turned to find Ellen, shouting and waving to them. She sounded in considerable distress.

A scene of utter devastation met their eyes. The boxes that had served as setts and homes, the perches and wire cages and compound which had once safely held the birds and animals were now smashed and empty. Kestrels, owls, badgers, deer, squirrel, had all gone, fled, dispersed, probably in fear from the wanton destruction. Andrew and Beth stared in horror at the scene then Beth wrapped her arms about Ellen, and for once the old woman did not shy from the close physical contact, rather seemed to welcome it. She was shaking with shock.

‘Sit down for a minute. You look dreadful. Let me get you a cup of tea.’

‘Bugger tea. What about my animals?’

‘Are they dead?’ Beth gazed fearfully at the heap of rubble.

‘I haven’t found any bodies. Yet.’

‘Thank goodness for that at least.’

Andrew said, ‘Who do you think did it? Have you seen any strangers about?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ve been out and about most of the day but I saw only a few tourists down in the dale, walkers mainly heading over Dundale Knot. They’d be hardly likely to be interested in my little set-up.’ Her mind was busy, had been ever since she’d walked in upon the destruction, and a theory was growing. But she held her own counsel. What proof did she have?

‘What about the cottage?’

Ellen sighed. ‘That’s in a state too.’

‘Oh no. Look, we can’t do anything now, its almost dark, We’ll stay at Larkrigg tonight and start clearing this mess tomorrow. I’m sure it won’t look half so bad in the morning.’

But it did. It looked a hundred times worse. In the tiny kitchen every plate and cup had been smashed. The living room had been ripped apart, Ellen’s few books and pictures torn to shreds.

‘It could have been worse, I suppose.’ But the brown eyes were bleak.

Andrew appeared, having got up especially early to deal with his chores, and the three of them worked solidly till lunch time. It was an arduous, heart-breaking task. They were glad to sit and drink the hot soup Beth had brought in a flask, and ear the home-made ham rolls.

After lunch, assisted by Beth, Andrew finished mending the compound and it stood, empty and forlorn, the silent testimony of Ellen’s patient care now in ruins.

‘Half of them weren’t yet fit enough to live on their own. That’s what hurts the most,’ Ellen mourned. ‘Some, like the cheeky squirrels, will do all right. They could have gone long since, but I still hadn’t found a home for Barney. I was hoping to find him a mate. Now he’s gone. Even me old goose has disappeared.’

Beth’s soft heart sank with gloom. She could find no words to express the misery she felt. Who could be so utterly cruel and callous?

‘Perhaps we should go and look for them?’ Andrew suggested. ‘Now we’ve got some sort of order restored to the place we could search the woods, see if we can find them.’ But Ellen was shaking her head.

‘They’ll have gone to ground. Sick creatures always do. They’ll die in pain and alone, wondering why I let them down.’ The tough old lady had tears in her eyes and Beth and Andrew exchanged agonised glances. What could they do? Then Beth had a idea.

‘There’s still the swan. He hasn’t gone yet, has he? Whoever did this, wouldn’t have tackled Pegleg. Let’s go and see how he is. He’ll want some dinner, at least.’

Ellen brightened. ‘I’d forgotten about him.’

He was at the tarn, waiting for them as usual. But he was not alone.

‘Georgie Girl,’ Ellen cried, running down to the water’s edge. The goose tack-tacked and came swimming serenely towards her, full of its own importance at having found her fine friend. Andrew and Beth both burst out laughing, then glancing up at a tree Beth pointed excitedly.

‘Look, isn’t that Barney over there?’ Now she laughed all the more. ‘I think your food is so good at your hotel your guests will very soon return.’

‘I think you might be right,’ Ellen said, grinning.

‘And they’ll bring their mates with them, then you’ll have twice as many to worry over,’ said Andrew and as they laughed again, he grabbed Beth and gave her a jubilant hug of delight and she leaned into his arms, tears of relief rolling down her cheeks. It was as she glanced up, ready to share this joy when she found his eyes upon her, and there was raw hunger in that gaze. It so shocked her that she forgot what it was she’d been about to say. Then he abruptly let her go and walked over to Ellen, and she wondered if she had perhaps imagined it.

‘Someone has it in for you,’ he warned. ‘And for all we know, they may try again. You’d best take greater care in future. Lock your door for a start.
^,

‘I’ve never locked it yet, I’m not about to start now! What have I to lose?’

‘Your home. He could burn it down next time.’

Ellen quickly sobered. She hadn’t thought of that. ‘I hope there won’t be a next time.’

‘He?’ Beth queried. `Whoever.’

‘Let’s not over-state the case, eh? It was just a bit of mischief, meant to give me a message. And I reckon I’ve got it. The point has been made.’

‘What point are you talking about?’

She half smiled. ‘I’m not to meddle, not to interfere in what don’t concern me. Not to be a nosy old woman.’ She tapped her nose and grinned, content to face anything now she knew that at least some of her birds and animals were safe. `Don’t worry. I’ve an idea who might have left this little calling card and if I’m right, I can sort him out myself.’ And that was as much as they could get out of her.

Chapter Seventeen

Beth’s troubles seemed small now by comparison with poor Ellen who still searched for the rest of her precious animals, struggling to restore order in her modest cottage. Over the next several days Beth cut the time she spent at Larkrigg since Ellen needed her more.

Worse, the early months of 1979 were marred by industrial dispute. Piles of rubbish lay in the streets, pickets stood outside hospitals, schools and factories. In some towns even the dead were left unburied. Beth listened to the news on her radio as she scrubbed the winter mud from the kitchen flags, stoked up the stove and suffered the chills of winter in a shivering Lakeland.

To cheer them, one day, Sarah took Beth shopping in Kendal. She readily accepted, happy to award herself a day off as there were a few essential items she needed. First they must trawl the dress shops while Beth sat patiently waiting or putting on a suitably admiring expression as Sarah tried on dresses, trouser-suits, sweaters and skirts by the dozen, rejecting most of them but managing to buy quite a few.

‘What about you? Don’t you want something new?’ glancing in distaste at Beth’s ancient flared trousers and long sheepskin waistcoat which she wore over a cheese-cloth shirt.

‘Why should I need anything new? Where would I wear it? In any case we can’t afford it. I think you’ve spent enough already.’

‘Oh, don’t be such an old skin-flint. Though buying new clothes for you would be a complete waste of money, I agree,’ Sarah uncharitably remarked. ‘Let’s go to the Wheatsheaf for lunch.’

After lunch, Beth tried to tactfully point out that money remained tight. ‘Joiners, carpet-fitters, builders, interior decorators for God’s sake?’ She ticked them off on her fingers. ‘It’s frightening. I got the electricity bill this morning and it made my hair curl. What have we been doing to use so much?’

Sarah shrugged elegant shoulders. ‘It’s cold in my room. I bought an electric fire.’

Beth gasped. ‘We paid a small fortune to install central heating.’

‘But you insisted on using that old range to do it with, and it doesn’t seem to work very well in my room. Too many draughts from those ancient windows. I hate old houses.’

‘Do you think we’re made of money?’ Beth could hear her voice rising to a dangerous level, and became aware of people turning curious glances in their direction. She struggled to hold her patience. ‘There’s a fire grate in your bedroom and we’ve plenty of wood. Use that, why don’t you?’

‘For goodness sake, Beth, I’ve better things to do with my time than light fires every night.’

‘You mean you want me to put lighting your bedroom fire on my list of jobs.’

‘It’s not my fault you’ve decided to live with old Ellen. Utterly ridiculous. You have quite enough work to do already,’ Sarah snapped, and Beth fell silent, suddenly no longer wishing to pursue the argument.

Freezing winds, snow filling the dale and creating havoc. The rough oily fleece of the Herdwicks and Swaledales might help them endure even the toughest winter but as the ice and snow packed down on the high fells, their source of food vanished and had to be supplemented through the efforts of man. Ewes had to be dug out, found by experienced dogs or the tell-tale signs of discoloured snow. Then the ice on their backs must be thawed out before they froze to death. Winter always made life hard for the farmer.

For Beth too it became increasingly difficult. She struggled to care for her own few sheep which Andrew had sold her, plodding through the snow to take them hay and concentrate, carefully counting them each day to check they were all well. But little help was forthcoming from Sarah or Pietro, who declared they were too busy with their own work.

Beth had hoped that by not living under the same roof as Sarah, everything would be made right between them. But really nothing had changed. They could hardly bear to be in each other’s company for more than half an hour. She’d never known Sarah to be in such a sour mood for so long. Usually her tempers were vicious but fleeting, followed by warm hearted flippancy. Not any more.

Beth didn’t mind leaving meals to keep hot in the range for Sarah and Pietro each evening, but nothing quite suited. If she made chicken, Sarah said she would have preferred fish. If it was fish, left ready to grill or steam, Sarah could never find the energy to cook it and said a casserole would have been more convenient. Beth would find complaining little notes next morning or, if she arrived before Sarah left for work, be forced to suffer sniping words or tantrums at the least provocation, even if the poor postman did not arrive exactly on time.

Even Pietro was often in a strange mood. He would appear withdrawn and full of sulks, spending hours alone walking on the fells, declaring he needed time to think.

On one occasion he came home with one eye closed, the beginnings of a bruise gathering about it. He said he’d walked into the low branch of a tree and while Sarah laughed, saying it was a likely story and probably some female had socked him one for trying it on, it was Beth who offered sympathy and packed it with ice.

The winter months churned slowly by, deathly quiet, cold, and filled with simmering, frustrated emotions. For all Sarah’s continuing ill temper there were days when Beth could not resist secreting herself away with Pietro. As today, with icicles forming on the window outside and the roads too dangerous for him to risk driving into work, they lay curled up together beside a crackling log fire, oblivious to the very real danger that Sarah might emerge from her room at any moment and catch them together.