Then She Fled Me (24 page)

The cold and the unaccustomed excitement were making her sleepy at last, and presently she began to nod, her head slipping to Adrian
’
s shoulder. Adrian drove leisurely, enjoying the falling snow and the keenness of the mountain air after the heat of the ballroom. He was tired, but not mentally fatigued as he would have been a few months ago. Even the incident of the woman who had recognised him at the Assembly Rooms had not upset him as much as it would have then. He heard again Sarah
’
s fierce little voice saying:
“
You mustn
’
t mind. You
’
ve got to get used to it.
”
Yes, he had to get used to a new way of life, but somehow, here at Dun Rury, it was not so difficult.

They arrived at last, and he woke his sleeping passengers
.

“
Home,
”
he said.
“
Run along in. I
’
ll put the car away.
”

“
There
’
s nothing,
”
said Sarah, stifling a yawn,
“
like making the lodger work. Come on, Kathy. I
’
ll
mak
e
some tea.
”

But once inside the house Kathy said she was t
o
o sleepy for tea and Sarah abandoned the idea. She put her arms round her sister in the darkness.

“
Thank you for the dress, darling,
”
she said.
“
I had a wonderful time. Kathy—
”

Kathy placed a finger on her sister
’
s lips.

‘
Tomorrow,
”
she said drowsily.
“
Tomorrow we
’
ll talk.
”

They kissed, and arms entwined they went upstairs to bed, leaving Adrian to lock up.

I
t snowed steadily on New Year
’
s Day and the day after. The tops of the mountains were covered and Slieve Rury wore a graceful cap of white.
I
t was intensely cold. Nonie lighted fires in all the rooms, and Sarah showed Adrian how
to build the turf so that his bedroom fire would last all night. In the morning she rowed across the lough to replenish stores from Casey
’
s and Adrian went to help her.

If they got much more snow, she said, the roads would very likely become blocked.

“
Does that often happen?
”
he asked.

“
Not often, but once we were cut off for nearly a fortnight and I
’
d forgotten to get any stores. We lived on stirabout and tough hens.
”

“
Stirabout?
”

“
Porridge to you. They keep the north road open with snow ploughs, of course, but no one bothers about us.
”

There was something strange about crossing the lough in the falling snow. It was as if they were isolated in a fairy world of their own, for each shore was a hazy outline, almost obliterated by the curtain of snow, and the lapping of the water against the bows of the boat was the only sound that broke the stillness. Small drifts gathered on the thwarts and frozen flakes clung to Sarah
’
s hair like a sprinkling of apple
blossom.

“
What are you smiling at?
”
Sarah asked, pulling on her
oar.

“
I was getting fanciful,
”
he said.
“
This is a strange experience and smacks of magic. It must be the snow on your hair. It looks like apple-blossom.
”

“
There used to be a story about snow
m
aidens who floated down the mountain streams, crowned with blossom in the spring to melt in the lough, but I forget it now,
”
said Sarah.
‘
Did you think when you came to Dun Rury, Adrian, it would be like this?
”

“
Not for a moment. The prospect of living on stirabout, and a landlady who
’
s scarcely reached the age of discretion would have kept me well away.
”

S
he smiled, used to his teasing now.

“
You
’
re so different to how you sounded in your letters,
”
she said.
“
You
’
re different even from when you first came. You were terribly bossy and on your dignity.
”

“
Well, you were rather on your dignity yourself, you preposterous creature!
”

“
Perhaps you
’
re melting like the snow-maidens.
”

“
Perhaps I am.
”

“
You didn
’
t want to melt, did you, Adrian?
”

“
I
’
ve found a crust of hardness is a very useful form of self
-p
rotection.
”
For a moment his voice had its old familiar edge.

“
But crusts and cores are different things,
”
she said.
“
And it
’
s the core that matters.
”

“
And you think I have a tender core?
”

“
I
’
m not sure. I think you might have.
”

“
The Flinty One?
”
h
e said, and she laughed.

“
Oh, did you know we called you that?
”

“
Well, I
’
ve sometimes wondered if you realized how much can be heard from the nursery window when you
’
re all on the terrace. You have a remarkably carrying voice, my dear Sarah.
”

“Oh, golly!” She grimaced at him over her shoulder. “Well, they always say listeners hear no good of themselves.”

The north shore slid towards them, ghostly through the felling snow.

“You’d better let me take her, I know the beach,” Sarah said.

He surrendered his oar and watched her manoeuvre the boat into the little creek which did not even boast a landing stage.

“
You handle a boat better than you do a car,
”
he said with a grin, and she replied proudly:

“
My father taught me. Can you remember all the things we
’
ve got to get?
”

“
Didn
’
t you bring a list?
”

“
No, I left it on the kitchen dresser.
”

“
H
’
m, the practical one of the family.
”

“
Oil is the main thing. We must get lots and lots of oil. When we were snowed up before we ran out at the end of
the first week. We had to live in the kitchen to save the
lamps and undress in the dark.
”

‘
Very uncomfortable. Be careful, now
.
”
But she had already jumped out of the boat and into
a
foot of icy water.

“
Ow!
”
she exclaimed.
“
It
’
s cold!
”

“
Really, my dear child! Now you
’
ll have wet feet and won
’
t be able to change for another hour. It
’
s enough to give you a bad chill this weather.
”

“
I
’
ve had wet feet before,
”
she observed mildly, and he shook his head.

“
Does nobody ever look after you?
”
he said.

The snow persisted. Like a silent challenge it fell remorselessly from the leaden skies and Dun Rury was marooned. The south road became impassable after three days, the edges of the lough
f
roze to solid ice, and each morning Adrian helped Sarah shovel the show from byre and stable.

“
It
’
s the roof that worries me,
”
she said.
“
There are so many weak places and the weight of the snow may fetch it down.
”

“
Don
’
t you repair before the winter?
”
he asked, seeing for himself the neglect into which the place had fallen.

“
There
’
s never been the money,
”
she replied.
“
Next year I
’
ve promised myself a new roof for the stable if I can save a bit. But there are so many things—the fences, the drainage, and the house itself—it
’
s falling to pieces before my two eyes.
”

“
You
’
re fighting a losing battle,
”
he said gently.
“
It would have been better to sell.
”

“
No,
”
she said, suddenly ste
rn
.
“
I
’
ll never sell Dun Rury.
”

Kathy was not shy of invading the nursery now. A crate of records had arrived from England just after Christmas and Adrian enlisted her help in unpacking and listing them. She spent long delightful hours in the nursery while Adrian taught her his system of filing and played many of the records for her delectation. He liked to watch her exquisite face while she listened.

“
You know,
”
he told her once,
“
you are rather like some of this music—delicate, questing, lost in clouds or dreams. When will you wake up, I wonder?
”

She looked at him and her lips parted expectantly.

“
But you explain the dreams,
”
she said softly.
“
I only needed a guide.
”

“
I
’
ve never considered myself as a young girl
’
s guide before,
”
he said humorously.
“
But if I can help you towards a real appreciation of music, Kathy, I
’
m very happy to do it.
”

It was not quite what she had meant, but she replied a little breathlessly,

“
Oh, yes, Adrian, if you would. I
’
m beginning to think Miss Macnamara was rather—rather limited in her teaching.
”

“
Miss Macnamara being your music mistress? Well, most of them usually are, unless you
’
re lucky in your school, as I was.
”

He began to tell her about the master at his own school who had been so exceptionally brilliant. She was a good listener, and as the days went on he came to enjoy those intimate hours in the nursery when she would sit by the fire, her large eyes fixed on his face while she asked him shy questions.

“
You
’
re very sweet,
”
he told her gently, and the days slipped by, scarcely noticed by either of them, while the snow fell, shutting them into a small warm world of their own where outside matters seldom trespassed.

Sarah,
coming back from the farm at tea-time, would look up at the lighted nursery windows and feel an unaccustomed sense of pain. What did they talk about all those long hours, she wondered. Sometimes she saw them through the window as they bent together over the table, and once Kathy looked up, laughing, into his face and he tucked one of the dark curls behind her ear. Kathy with her dreams and her gentle spirit
...
would it be surprising if he were to love her?