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THE WOODS WERE FULL of birdsong. Tessa, hands in pockets, strolled slowly with Sidney pottering in the rear. A shower of upflung leaves and earth showed that Harry was far ahead, scratching busily at a hole deep in the roots of a tree, and quite unconscious of the squirrel who watched him slyly from a branch high above his head. A jay flashed between the trunks of two great oaks, disturbing a wood pigeon who rose with a clapper of wings and, with its odd curving flight, dipped into the meadow where lambs played at the edge of the wood. The pale gold of primroses gleamed from amongst beech mast and dead leaves, wood anemones glowed ghostly in the shadows beyond the path and the constant chuckle of water hinted at the presence of an unseen stream.
Tessa, who had hoped to spend Easter at the cove, was back in Wiltshire. The two families had once again united for a repeat trip to France and Tessa had been unable to refuse their pleas for help. She was not yet in such a position to be able to turn down work and she knew that these two women, struggling to make ends meet, had made great sacrifices to be able to take the children away on holiday for the week.
âIt's rather a lot of driving,' Sidney's owner had admitted, âbut it's a wonderful break and the kids love it. Having you here is a great luxury but I couldn't put Sidney in kennels. He's much too neurotic. He was my husband's dog, you see, and when he went off it broke Sidney's heart, and his new woman wouldn't have him near her. He
might slobber on the chair covers. Cow! So he stays with me. Poor old Sidney. He hasn't really got over it.'
It occurred to Tessa that he hadn't got over Harry, either. Despite a second week together, there was still a certain amount of tension on Sidney's part although his gentlemanly instincts obliged him to endure in silence. Harry, with all the insufferable confidence of the street urchin, never even noticed.
Tessa stood still and whistled. There was a scurrying as Harry appeared from nowhere and barged past themâhe always had to be aheadâand, with Sidney fairly close to heel, she turned back towards the road where the car was parked. She yawned, feeling terribly tired, and realised that she had felt this weariness for some while. It was odd that, having achieved her heart's desire, she should feel such lethargy now that the first excitement was over. Her limbs were heavy and her brain was dull; unable to be stimulated to happiness, even by the thought of Sebastian or the sight of her engagement ring. As she walked she stretched out her hand so as to stare at the pretty hoop of sapphires, remembering how they had rushed in to Plymouth to choose it and then gone on to the cove so that Sebastian could meet Bea and Will.
Tessa had been swept along on a rising tide of excitement and happiness. Sebastian, having had his eyes opened at last, had behaved perfectly. For the few days that she was at Freddie's it was almost as if they were a couple in a film or an advertisement; he bought flowers and champagne, raced across beaches with her, sang as they drove along in the car, took her out to dinner. It had, she thought now, a sense of unreality about it: tremendous fun but quite unrelated to anything that had happened before or since. It was as if they were both playing parts in a brief moment of romance that had nothing to do with real life.
Tessa yawned again and felt irritable. Why couldn't she be satisfied? For nearly ten years she had yearned after Sebastian and, now that she had him, all she felt was a dull exhaustion. Perhaps it was bound to be like this, she told herself as she let the dogs into the car. There was
bound to be some sort of anticlimax after ten years of longing and hoping and waiting. She climbed in, switched on the engine and began to turn the car. Sidney whined miserably as she backed towards the hedge and she felt another surge of irritation.
âShut up, Sid,' she said crossly. âFor goodness' sake! Nobody's hurting you!' She caught sight of his big domed head and sad eyes in the driving mirror and remembered what his owner had told her. âSorry,' she said, filled with compunction. âSorry, Sid. I'm being a cow!'
She drove along the lane, a now-familiar sense of confusion making her even more depressed. Deliberately she thought about Sebastian and how happy the Andersons had been when she and Sebastian had telephoned the news of their engagement. She thought of how sweet he had been to her and how he had made love to herâand her heart remained obstinately heavy.
âI'm tired,' she told herself. âI need a holiday. A real one. Not just bits and pieces here and there. It's been a pretty exhausting year one way and another.'
Comforting herself with this reason for her contrariness, she drove back to the cottage. Tomorrow she would leave Wiltshire. She had a few days to herself before her next job and she had planned to spend them at the cove; not as long as she would like but better than nothing. As she opened the door she could hear the telephone ringing and ran to answer it. It was a few moments before she realised who was at the other end.
âI've been ringing and ringing,' said Harry's owner, sounding near to tears. âIt's terrible. Poor Caroline's been taken really ill. We think it might be some seafood she had. She's in hospital. There's no way we can get back tomorrow. Can you hang on for a few days?'
Tessa shut her eyes for a moment, seeing her precious holiday disappearing. She tried to summon some sympathy for Caroline. âI'm sorry,' she said. âHow awful for her. For all of you. I can stay three more days. I've got to be somewhere else after that.'
âShe's really poorly.' The voice was trembling. âThe doctor says she might not recover. She's vomiting all the time. I don't know what to do â¦'
Tessa was shaken out of her lethargy and disappointment. âHow awful for you! Poor Caroline. Are the children all right?'
âWe're all fine. Only she would have the mussels.' She began to cry. âIt's food-poisoning, you see. Her mum's coming over.'
âI'm so sorry.' Tessa felt inadequate. âLook, don't worry about the dogs. I can cope here until Tuesday. Stay in touch though, will you? I'm just ⦠Well, I don't know what to say.'
âNo. I know. I can hardly believe it myself. And I don't know what to say to the kids. I'll be glad when her mum arrives.'
âOf course you will. Try not to get too upset.'
âNo. I'll phone again tomorrow, then. 'Be.'
Tessa replaced the receiver. She felt frustrated and guilty for being more concerned about not being able to go to the cove than she was about the poor, sick Caroline.
âShit!' she muttered. âDamn! Blast!' She kicked off her boots whilst Sidney watched her anxiously. âSorry,' she said, automatically, seeing his distress. âSorry, Sid.' She stroked his silky head. âHow about a biscuit?'
As the day progressed, her frustration and depression settled back into a mild lethargy. Longing for some communication with the outside world she wrote a letter to Sebastian who was back in Portsmouthâa specially loving letter so as to assuage her guiltâand decided to ring Will and Bea to explain that she might be delayed. There was no reply and she spent some time trying to remember Isobel's surname and cursing herself for not having had the foresight to ask for her telephone number.
After lunch, worn out with so many negative emotions and the tiring boredom of having nothing to do, she fell asleep on the sofa in front of the television with Sidney stretched out on the floor beside her. Harry was patrolling the garden, a sharp eye out for the neighbour's cat with whom he had an ongoing sparring match. The telephone bell jerked
Tessa out of a deep slumber and she hauled herself upright and stumbled out into the kitchen.
âOh God!' said the voice of Harrv's owner. âIt's awful. Caroline's dead. She's dead. Just like that. Isn't it terrible? I can't believe it.' She began to sob.
Tessa stood holding the receiver, trying to comprehend the horror of it. âI'm so sorry,' she repeated meaninglessly. âSo sorry.'
âThank God her mum arrived in time. It's awful here. Look, I'm coming back tomorrow morning. It's not fair on my kids to keep them here now. They're in a terrible state. Caroline's mum is coping with her two. They'll be staying here for a bit to arrange for ⦠things.' She began to cry again.
âI simply don't know what to say,' said Tessa honestly. âIt's the most awful shock.'
âI know. It doesn't seem possible, does it? Alive one minuteâand the next ⦠nothing. I can't bear it.' She gave a kind of retching gasp. âLook, I must go. The kids are waiting. See you tomorrow about three o'clock.'
Tessa filled the kettle and switched it on. The shocking news had penetrated the dullness of her spirits and she was filled with horror. The woman's words repeated themselves in her head. âAlive one minuteâand the next ⦠nothing.' So it had been with her parents and her brother. Her old companions of loneliness and isolation weighed upon her so terribly that she became desperate to speak to someone. The need to dispel the terrifying awareness of the transitory nature of man's existence was acute. She simply must smash through her fear and communicate with some warm, living, understanding human being. She found her address book and went back to the telephone. To whom should she speak? She found herself thinking of Giles but gave herself a mental shake. She could hardly phone him up out of the blue and weep down the telephone at him, especially now that she was engaged. Instead, she picked up the receiver and dialled the house in the cove â¦
Only much later did she remember that it had never occurred to her to try to contact Sebastian.
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GILES LAY ON THE sofa-bed in his small studio, listening to some jazz and thinking about Tessa. He knew that his mother would have been disappointed at his lack of initiative but he was pleased with the way things were going. He and Tessa had spent two magic days together and, though nothing concrete had been said and he hadn't so much as kissed her, he was certain that progress had been made. On his return to London he had been obliged to leave almost immediately for Ireland, to take photographs for a series of articles on Celtic Britain. Afterwards he had travelled on to Scotland and so he had been away for several weeks. He wished that it was not quite so difficult to contact Tessa. Because she was never in the same place for very long she had given him a contact number and, having arrived back and gathered up his confidence, he had dialled it. There was no reply. Later he had tried again ⦠and againâbut the number had been engaged for hours.
Giles settled himself more comfortably and closed his eyes. It was true that his upbringing had given him a wariness about entering into relationships, which reinforced his genetic inheritance. Until Tessa, he had never felt strongly enough to make the effort required to sustain such a relationship but, now that he felt as he did about her, he was determined that nothing should go wrong. He was frightened of hurrying her but afraid of losing her. He knew how she felt about Sebastian Anderson which, to begin with, had made it impossible to approach her. Now, he was more of his mother's persuasion; all was fair in love and war. The two days he had spent with her had convinced him that this, at last, was the real thing; now he was ready to fight for her.
He propped himself up a little and pressed the redial button on the telephone. Will answered the telephone so quickly that he took Giles by surprise.
âHello,' he said. âMr Rainbird? My name's Giles Webster. Tessa gave me the number. I'd like to get in touch with her.'
âAh, yes.' Will appeared to be dithering. Giles did not know that he was checking his list. âYes, of course. Giles Webster. The thing is, Giles, she's had a bit of a shock. I've just been speaking to her, as a matter of fact. The woman she's dog-sitting for died abroad yesterday and Tessa's just had to deal with the woman's friend and children collecting the other dog.'
âDied?'
âShocking, isn't it? Food-poisoning apparently. Poor Tessa's a bit overwhelmed. She was supposed to be coming home today but she's stuck with the dead woman's dog, dâyou see?'
âHow terrible. Poor Tessa. And poor woman, whoever she was. I'm sorry.'
âQuite. Well, I'll give you her number but I warn you, she's a bit low.'
âI should think so. Thanks for the warning. Don't worry, I'll be as tactful as I can. Yes. I've got a pencil ⦠Thanks.'
He dialled the number and waited. Tessa, when she answered, sounded tired and unhappy and Giles was filled with a new, strange tenderness.
âTessa,' he said, âit's Giles. I just phoned the number you gave me and Mr Rainbird told me the sad news. I'm terribly sorry. What a shock for everyone. Are you OK?'
âOh, Giles.' The caring note in his voice warmed her. âOh, isn't it awful? I've been talking to Will. I couldn't bear to be on my own, if you see what I mean. The terrible suddenness of it brought everything back.'
âPoor Tessa. Look.' He decided to take a chance. âI'm just back from Scotland and Ireland before that. I've got a few days off. Would you like me to come and see you? Where are you?'