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INDIGO CLOUDS TOWERED ABOVE the high tors and rolled eastwards, swallowing the tender blue sky and spilling heavy drops of rain on the wide spaces of the moor. The crabbed and twisted thorn trees, their branches flushed soft green with new young leaves, bent lower beneath the wind's cold breath as it fled across the bleached rustling grass. The river, stained brown with peat and white-flecked, raced beneath the old stone bridge and the flooded bog-lands reflected back a brief bright glint of sunshine.
As Tessa turned right at Moorshop and plunged into the lanes behind Mary Tavy the rain descended suddenly, drumming on the car's roof and streaming down the windscreen. Even with the wipers at their speediest she could barely see out. She pulled into Freddie's drive and sat for some moments, waiting for the storm to abate. When it showed no sign of stopping she took her coat and, with it held over her head, made a dash for the back door. Freddie opened it as she reached it and she followed him in, shaking her jacket and pushing back her hair.
âWhat weather! So how are you?' He herded her before him into the kitchen where Charlie Custard was lounging gracefully in his favourite position on the old sofa. âLook who's here, Custard.'
The dog waved a languid tail and then heaved himself off the sofa and came to greet her.
âGood grief!' said Tessa. âI feel very honoured. You didn't have to get up for me, Custard.'
âWe're feeling very proud,' said Freddie, unable to hide his delight. âCustard has passed his PAT test. He's got his badge to prove it.'
âOh well done!' Tessa patted Custard's broad head. âSo how does it feel to be a fully paid-up Pet as Therapy? All those people patting you and telling you how wonderful you are.'
âHe did very well when he went for his test,' said Freddie. âA friendly gentle temperament is the great thing but they have to be immune to sudden noises. He didn't flinch when they dropped a tin tray behind him. It was as if he'd been doing it for years. Of course I've been training him intensively. He was brilliant, weren't you, old chap?'
Charlie Custard yawned deprecatingly and looked suitably modest. Having allowed Tessa to demonstrate her admiration and affection he returned to his position on the sofa and slumped down, exhausted by such an effort.
âCongratulations, Freddie.' Tessa beamed at him. âSo now you and Custard'll be round at the nursing home every minute, bringing down the blood pressure like mad.'
âWe shall spread ourselves about,' said Freddie grandly. âCustard's going to be a great hit and if anyone wants to stroke or cuddle me as well, I shall make myself available. Now then. I think everything's ready for you. I'm catching the three o'clock train so we've got plenty of time. Have you eaten?'
Tessa nodded. âStopped off at the Roundhouse,' she said. âWe'll take Custard with us and I'll give him a walk on the way back from the station. If it isn't raining â¦'
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AS SHE DROVE HOME from Plymouth she felt the usual happiness at being back on the moor. The cove must be her first love, now, but the moor ran a very close second. The storm had passed. Huge gold and white clouds sailed majestically in the rain-rinsed sky and the full moon hung, serene and pale, in the east. The wind had dropped but the breeze was chill and Tessa huddled into her jacket as she and Custard walked on Gibbet Hill. She was glad that the nights were drawing out.
The long winter evenings were nearly past and her job always seemed less lonely in the summer. Her brief returns to the cove had begun to show her how much she was missing in companionship. It had been such fun to draw the curtains against the dark and sit beside the fire playing Scrabble with Will whilst Bea pored over her jigsaw and chuckled at Will's expostulations at Tessa's spelling. It was only after she had left and was back at work that it occurred to her that there had been no television at the house in the cove. Usually she would have been barely able to exist without the company of the television to while away the endless hours. It must be bliss, thought Tessa, to have company instead of being alone all the time. She thought of Giles. He had turned up quite unexpectedly in the middle of the morning at Whitchurch and her first exclamation had been one of distress.
âKate isn't here,' she'd said, disappointed for him. âOh, what a shame. She's up in London.'
He had looked taken aback and she had hastened to make him as welcome as she could before she remembered that it was his own home and was promptly overcome by embarrassment. They had stood for a moment in silence, neither of them quite knowing what to say next, and then Giles had laughed.
âThis is silly, isn't it? Sorry to take you by surprise. It's great to see you. How's life in the cove? Come and tell me all your news.'
They had sat in the kitchen together, talking and talking ⦠or rather she had talked and Giles had listened. Later they had driven over to the Royal Oak at Meavy and had a drink and some lunch and then taken Felix for a walk above Burrator Reservoir. As they looked down on the lake, set in the hills beneath Sheepstor and surrounded by woodland, Giles began to tell her of his childhood. He recounted amusing tales of naval quarters but explained that they had lived mainly here on the moor. He showed her Dousland, below them in the trees, where Kate had rented a bungalow, and pointed out the roof of Meavy school which he and Guy had attended until they went to Mount House at eight years old. He told her about the break-up of his parents' marriage
and how he had feared the later visits to his father. Tessa listened in silence, aware that this was no light thing for Giles. She guessed that he was not given to unburdening himself. She remembered how she had talked to him at the Roundhouse and suddenly felt very close to him.
They drove over the moor whilst he showed her his past; where he and Guy had played and picnicked and where they had walked Felix's forerunners, Megs and Honey. They looked across the playing fields to Mount House school and stopped to have a stroll at Bellever Bridge where the twins had paddled in other earlier summers. When they got back to Whitchurch he had lit the fire whilst Tessa made the supper and the evening had stretched ahead, relaxed and comfortable, until bedtime.
As Tessa called to Charlie Custard and strolled back to the car, she remembered how she had felt at that point. It seemed almost wrong to separate and go to bed in different rooms. It would have been nice, she thought, to have continued in that feeling of closeness, to have wandered in and out of bathroom and bedroom, talking with that same sense of familiarity and easiness; to have shared the warmth and comfort of their bodies. She suspected that Giles felt the same but would have never mentioned it, feeling that he was pressing home an unfair advantage. Afterwards she wished that she'd had the courage to suggest itâand then felt rather ashamed.
âIt would have looked so pushy,' she told herself as she opened the tailgate so that Charlie Custard could jump into the back of the car. âAnd what about Sebastian?'
She felt the usual sinking of the heart when she thought about Sebastian. She had received another card from him and a telephone call. There was definite progress but not enough to satisfy Tessa. Being a part-owner in the cove had given her a measure of confidence and she was beginning to find it difficult to be grateful for Sebastian's crumbs of affection; only beginning though. She had been in love with him for so long that he was a habit that she could not quite breakânor did she want to; he was still special.
The telephone was ringing as she opened the kitchen door and, leaving Charlie Custard to follow her in, she hastened to answer it.
âHi!' said Sebastian. âSo how's my favourite girl?'
Tessa sank down on a kitchen chair and began to laugh. âYou must be psychic,' she told him. âI was just thinking about you.'
âSo I should hope.' He didn't sound surprised. âWant to guess where I am?'
âAre you in Plymouth?' Her heart began to beat faster. âIs the ship in?'
âIt is indeed. I phoned up your people and got your number. Clever, aren't I?'
Tessa glowed at the casual phrase âyour people'. âWas it Bea or Will?' she asked eagerly.
âIt was a chap,' answered Sebastian. âGave me the third degree before he'd part up with the number, I can tell you.'
âDear Will.' She smiled at Will's protectiveness. âHe's allowed to give it to one or two special people.'
âI see. And who else is special?' His bantering tone suggested that he was not overly anxious.
She decided to tease him a little. âOh, one or two girlfriends and Giles, of course â¦'
âGiles?' He sounded just the tiniest bit put out. âWho's Giles?'
âA boyfriend,' she said lightly. âAnyway. Are you in for long?'
âFor a few days.' He still sounded faintly aggrieved. âI was wondering if you might like to come down and meet me? That is if your social diary isn't overloaded.'
âDown where?' she asked. âTo the dockyard?'
âThat's right. I shall need the registration number to get you through the gate. Are you on your own?'
For a moment she was puzzled by the question. âWell, there's Charlie Custard,' she said.
âCharlie
who?'
His amazement made her laugh. âWho
are
all these chaps?'
âHe's a dog,' she told him. She glanced at Custard who was reclining indolently on his sofa. âYou wait till you see him?'
âSo I can stay?'
âStay?' She swallowed. âYou mean ⦠?'
âI mean “stay”. As in “the night”.' His voice, emphasising the words, was suddenly intimate and she remembered the things he had said in the pub when they'd last met and how he had kissed her. âI've been really looking forward to seeing you again.'
Confused, she stared unseeingly at Freddie's curtains. Part of her was angry that he imagined that he could telephone out of the blue and expect her to sleep with him; part felt as though she were dissolving with the old treacherous longing.
âI don't know,' she said weakly. âThis isn't my place. It's a bit ⦠a bit â¦'
âNonsense,' he cut in robustly. âThese people can't expect you to live like a nun just because you're looking after their dogs. Look, give me the registration number of your car. It's a Peugeot, isn't it? I'll give you directions to the Camel's Head Gate and they'll tell you what jetty we're on. I'll be looking out for you â¦'
Tessa replaced the receiver and stood for a moment, lost in thought. Charlie Custard watched from the sofa, hoping that she was thinking about his dinner. She shook her head, folded her arms across her chest, changed her mind and stuck her hands in her pockets. There was an air of anxiety and uncertainty about her whole demeanour and Charlie Custard began to feel uneasy. He had had a demanding and exhausting week. He had been patted and stroked and talked to by a number of strangers whilst other inconsiderate people dropped things and made sudden noises behind his back. He stretched out his back legs and rested his head against the top of the sofa, an ear cocked for the familiar words: âWhat about dinner, then?'
âCome on then, old chap,' said Tessa. âWe're going out. Come on.'
Custard stared at her in disbelief.
Going out?
He'd only just come in
after a tiring trip in the car and a quite unnecessary walk. Going out? Surely she meant âWhat about dinner?'
âGet a move on.' She was collecting car keys and picking up the coat she'd dropped on a chair as she'd hurried into the house. âCome
on
, Custard!'
There was a fraught note in her voice which he distrusted. Sighing heavily, he climbed down off the sofa and, with a meaning look at the cupboard which contained his dinner, he followed her out to the car. As the engine burst into life the telephone started ringing.
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WILL HUNG UP WITH a sigh. He brooded for a moment and then decided that it wasn't important. As he peeled some potatoes for supper he ran through the conversation again. It was obvious that the young manâwhat was he called?âknew Tessa fairly well and there could surely be no harm in his coming over. On second thoughts, however, it seemed that he didn't know her
that
well.
âIs that Mr Rainbird?' the voice had asked. âYou don't know me. I'm a friend of your daughter, Tessa. Is she about?'
âI'm afraid not.' Will did not correct his mistake. âShe's away for a few weeks. Who is this?'
âMy name's Adrian Pearson. Away is she? Mmm ⦠I'm sorry to miss her â¦'
Whilst the young man hesitated, Will had time to unhook the sheet containing a list of names which hung by the telephone. He peered at it; Adrian Pearson was not one of those to whom he was allowed to give Tessa's working telephone number.
âIt's just that the last time I saw Tessaâwe were having lunch together actuallyâshe mentioned that you have some pieces of furniture that you might want to sell. I'm an antique dealer. I should have mentioned that earlier. Sorry if I'm speaking out of turn. It's just that I'm in the area for a few days â¦'