âAah!' Three pairs of eyes were riveted on his face.
âIt's very reasonable. Almost exactly the same as she pays for the Lodge. Shouldn't be a problem.'
âI think,' said Gillian, eyeing Phoebe's glass, âthat we need another drink.'
âHear, hear,' said Phoebe cheerfully and when her glass was full,
she raised it. âHere's to us! And now there's only one problem left.' They stared at her. âI suppose we ought to take into consideration the fact that Nell might not want to live in the Courtyard. Perhaps we should have asked her first!'
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NELL COULD HARDLY BELIEVE her good fortune. The suggestion wasn't made until Henry heard through Mr Ellison that the owner was prepared to grant Nell a lease and then Gussie told her everything. Nell imagined herself in the delightful little cottage with all her precious things round her, safe in the Courtyard, amongst all her friends and, when Gussie had gone, she wept. The only drawback would be her proximity to Guy but, in her heart, she knew that the time had come to put an end to the whole business. Guy might be hurt but it was unfair to keep stringing him along. She prayed that it wouldn't spoil their relationship or make things difficult and spent many hours wondering how to put it to him as tactfully as possible. Although part of her was preoccupied by this problem, she was full of excitement and longing to get back to Nethercombe and take up her life again. Elizabeth had been to visit her and assured her that she mustn't worry about anything except getting well and told Nell that she'd been wondering if it was the sudden appearance of the nice new car that had given the thief ideas. The car was now safe in the Courtyard's car park and Elizabeth appeared to be deeply relieved at the news that Nell was to live in Mr Jackson's cottage.
âPhoebe had the right idea after all,' she said. âLet me know when you're in and I'll be over.'
Gussie and Gillian helped Nell to pack and, between them, Guy, Henry and Mr Ridley with a hired van moved her belongings down to the Courtyard. Very quickly she made herself as comfortable and homely as she had been at the Lodge.
âYou can't imagine what a relief it is to have you here,' said Phoebe, who had popped in to make sure that all was well. âLike it?'
âI love it,' said Nell at once. âI have the morning sun in the kitchen and my bedroom, and the afternoon and evening sun in the sitting room. The Lodge was a bit dark and gloomy with all those great trees around. And I've got French windows on to my little paved bit and no garden to worry about. It's wonderful.'
âWell worth getting hit on the head for then,' said Phoebe cheerfully. âYou know what Gussie's always saying! “Out of evil cometh good.” Now we've only got Number Five to worry about!'
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NELL'S RECOVERY AND REMOVAL to the Courtyard seemed to give an extra edge to the Midsummer Eve party round the pool. It was obviously all set to become a Nethercombe institution like the Christmas party. The lights were put up and the summerhouse swept and refurbished and extra chairs and china were hunted out. Gemma came over early to lend a hand but Sophie â her infatuation for Guy over and with a boyfriend now in the sixth form â was coming later with her parents. Gemma, just home for the holidays from Hungerford where she was at the Norland Nursery Training College, was surprised and rather disconcerted to find Nell living in the Courtyard and horrified by the story of her attack. She seemed unusually subdued and when Guy teased her about it she said that she was missing Chris. Guy was somewhat taken aback. He'd never really taken the idea of Chris very seriously and he felt rather resentful that this unknown man should change Gemma in any way.
He had, as yet, made no attempt to approach Nell again. She still looked so battered and bruised that he hadn't the heart to harass her, although they'd had a few quiet evenings at the pub. He'd been looking forward to seeing Gemma, expecting her to jolly him along and make him laugh, and he felt somehow cheated. At the back of his mind he'd accepted that she had a bit of a crush on him and it was only now, when he seemed in danger of being supplanted by this Chris, that he realised how much he'd counted on it to boost his ego and how much he'd taken it for granted. It seemed something quite apart from
his passion for Nell but he didn't stop to analyse it or wonder whether it was fair to encourage Gemma, knowing that his heart belonged to Nell. Since Nell was still taking life gently, Guy decided to draw Gemma out of her preoccupation. After all, she was far too young to be serious about anyone yet. When he told her so she merely looked thoughtful but he soon had her laughing and by the end of the evening she was more like her old self. Guy was inordinately pleased with himself and, when Nell refused â very gently and politely â an invitation to the Church House Inn for one of their delicious Sunday lunches the next morning, Guy had no compunction in seeking Gemma out and asking her instead. She accepted and he was surprised at the relief and pleasure he felt.
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AFTER THE PARTY NETHERCOMBE settled back into its calm ordered routines. Gillian, now in her seventh month, was quite glad that the excitement was over and she could relax and, one morning in early July, she wandered out on to the terrace and settled in a shady corner with a book. Gussie was in Totnes and Henry was going up to Higher Nethercombe Farm.
âI've had nothing but people phoning with wrong numbers all morning,' he said, bending to kiss her. âI should ignore it if it rings, if I were you. See you later.'
When the bell pealed half an hour later, however, Gillian got up and went into the study to answer it, half expecting a call from Lydia. She said the number clearly and a muffled voice asked who was speaking.
âIt's Gillian Morley here. Can I help you?'
âI sincerely hope so,' said Sam Whittaker. âThank God your old man didn't answer again. I thought I'd never get you!'
Gillian lowered herself into Henry's chair. The blood pounded in her head and her hands shook.
âWhat do you want?' she whispered. âI told you I never wanted to see you again.'
âSo you did.' He gave the old easy laugh. âBut I want to see you.'
âWhy?' asked Gillian desperately. âIt's all over. Finished.'
âNo, no. Nothing's that easy. You should know that by now. The echoes go on for ever. Haven't you learned that yet? I need some money, Gillian.'
âI don't care!' she said fiercely. âI haven't got any money. And if I had I wouldn't give it to you. Can't you find any other poor fools like John to swindle and cheat?'
âI came over to get some money from someone who owed me.' His voice was more urgent now, as though he were running out of time or money. âOnly he's let me down. I've got to get back to France quickly. It's not particularly healthy for me over here as you may have guessed. Don't worry. I shan't keep coming back for more but I must have some to get home. I've tried everyone else. You don't want me to come and knock on the front door, do you? Introduce myself to Henry?'
âHe'd pass you straight over to the police,' cried Gillian. âMake no mistake about that!'
âBut not before we'd had a nice long chat.' Sam laughed again. âCan you imagine it, my darling? Think of the things I could tell him about you. Did he ever know about you and Simon, for instance? And all the money you borrowed? And all the things you told me about him? Remember? About how useless he was in bed ⦠? And of course you've confessed to seducing John?'
âShut up! Shut up!' Shame swept over her in a scalding tide and sweat made the receiver slippery in her hand. âDon't you dare come here!'
âSo you never had the courage to tell him!' Sam's voice was fat with satisfaction. âI guessed as much. Well, it's up to you. I need two hundred quid, that's all. And don't tell me you haven't got it. I've seen the spread you've got there. You can find two hundred.'
âYou've seen Nethercombe?'
âThat worries you, doesn't it? Oh, yes. I've seen it. I'm right here
in the thriving metropolis of South Brent. So what are you going to do about it? And be quick. I'm running out of money.'
âOK.' Gillian felt weak with terror at the thought of Sam so close. âI can find that amount, just about.' She thought quickly. âNow listen carefully and I'll tell you where we can meet â¦'
She replaced the receiver and sat for some moments, her hands pressed between her knees, her eyes closed. His voice had brought the memories of that dreadful episode sweeping back and she felt sick with shame and humiliation. How could she have behaved so? She'd betrayed Henry and Nell and it struck her that, if any of the people whom she now loved knew about any of the things that she had done, they would turn from her in disgust. The child leaped in her belly as if it, too, repudiated her and would be free of her and she laid her head on the desk and wept bitterly. She'd imagined herself free of it all; that by giving Henry all her love, by trying to make restitution to Nell, the past could be wiped out. What a fool she'd been! Sam was right. Our actions go on echoing and rebounding all through our lives and we can never escape from them. She imagined Sam confronting Henry, the easy laugh, the pleasant voice telling him awful unspeakable things! Gillian writhed in self-disgust and wept until she was exhausted. At last, the sound of Gussie's voice pulled her together and she slipped out of the study and hurried upstairs.
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SAM MADE HIS WAY through the network of lanes round Nethercombe and into the woods beyond its boundaries. The river was low in its bed, running sluggishly after the long dry spell, and he worked his way upstream until he came to the stepping stones that Gillian had described. He glanced round him. There was nobody about; even the birdsong seemed muted in the still heat of the afternoon. He looked up quickly as an echoing hooting filled the air and shattered the peace. A train was crossing the viaduct higher up the valley and he watched it for a moment before crossing the stream by the stepping stones. He
walked cautiously now, the marshy ground sucking at his shoes as he skirted it, following the path that Gillian had described. It was very overgrown but just discernible and he gradually climbed up through the trees until the path swung round to the right. The ground was clearer here and he found himself at the edge of a little cliff, looking down on the swampy damp ground. He glanced at his watch. He was early but that was just as well. At least he wouldn't be taken by surprise. A woodpigeon clattered out of a nearby tree, startling him, and the sun beating into the clearing was hot. He felt suddenly very tired, as though the nervous energy that had kept him going up to this point had suddenly deserted him.
He sat down on the edge of the little cliff, his legs dangling, pulled his holdall onto his lap and took out the pasty that he'd bought earlier in the village. At the first bite of juicy meat and gravy, he salivated copiously and realised just how hungry he was. He ate with great enjoyment, wishing that he'd bought two pasties, and thought about seeing Gillian again. He'd missed her for a while but he was too busy wheeling and dealing to have time for too many regrets and, after all, there were always women to be had. Sam scrunched up the paper bag and dropped it back in his bag. He knew that he'd completely misjudged Gillian. He'd imagined her to be as ruthless and tough as himself and it had come as a shock to find how wide of the truth his picture had been.
He swore softly under his breath when he thought about John. Bloody fool! As if anything was so bad that you'd need to kill yourself! Even now, with the chips down and his own back to the wall, there was a certain excitement, a buzz, in finding a way out, even if you did have to kick a few people in the teeth to achieve it. And, let's face it, these gullible idiots were simply begging to be stitched up and if lives and relationships were damaged in the process â well, it was too bad. The trouble was that people were getting wise. The word âscam' had been invented and even the most naive were beginning to
be cautious. There were reports in the newspapers, too, that put the unwary on their guard. He'd got out just in time, no doubt about it, and he'd been crazy to come back. If he hadn't thought that he'd be able to bring it off just one more time, so getting himself out of the shit, he wouldn't have risked it. And then the stupid bastard had dithered and delayed and finally backed off. He'd taken the chance for nothing! Still, nobody knew he was here. He'd travelled by public transport and only Gillian knew where he was. He thought about John again and gave a derisive snort. It was a miracle that he'd managed to kill himself. He was the sort to bungle it and spend the rest of his life as a cabbage, totally dependent and a bloody nuisance to everybody. His wife was well rid of him and Gillian's attack of conscience had been completely over the top. Well, she wouldn't suffer. She'd hardly miss a few hundred quid. Sam shook his head. Having prowled about a bit and seen it for himself, he felt quite flattered to think that she'd been prepared to give Nethercombe up for him. He wondered briefly whether the old charm might work a second time but dismissed the idea almost at once. He didn't want to be lumbered with a woman now, especially one who'd shown herself to have such extraordinarily inconvenient scruples.
Sam stretched his back a little and longed for a cigarette. It had been a choice between a packet of fags or the pasty and he'd decided to be sensible. As soon as Gillian passed over the cash, he'd go back to the village and get a few things before heading back upcountry. He glanced at his watch. She should be here by now. Even as he had the thought, he heard movement in the woods behind him. He sat perfectly still, hardly breathing as he listened, trying to block out the noise of another approaching train. The searing, agonising pain in his back struck him before he could move; the gunshot and his anguished cry both drowned by the rumble of the goods train now rattling noisily and slowly over the viaduct. Sam's instinctive jerk forward sent him over the cliff edge and into the swamp below. The evil-smelling mud filled his nostrils and his screaming desperate open mouth and
sucked him greedily, eagerly down and, by the time the train had disappeared, there was silence.
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BELLA, THE SPANIEL, QUARTERED the ground above the swamp, her tail wagging enthusiastically. To and fro she went, nose to ground, intent on the scents around her. Mr Ridley followed more slowly, enjoying the sun on his back. He felt sure that he'd hit the rabbit that darted across but he knew that his eyes weren't all that they might be and the thick foliage and the deep shadows made it impossible to judge. He reached the clearing and looked about. Bella still ran questing to and fro but there was no sign of his prey. He moved to the edge of the little cliff and stared down into the viscous turgid mud. There was evidence that the surface had been recently disturbed and he gave a disgruntled sigh.
âCome away, girl,' he said to the still excited Bella. â'Twas only an ole rabbit. Knocked 'im in the swamp, I reckon.'
He turned away following the overgrown track that led downstream. Bella remained behind, confused by conflicting scents, but finally gave up and raced breathlessly after him. When he was nearly out of the woods and he could see the sunlit stretches of the meadow ahead, Mr Ridley fired at a wood pigeon on its dipping flight between the trees. The bird soared on, untouched, and, calling to Bella, he climbed the stile into the meadow and turned for home.
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GILLIAN SLIPPED OUT THROUGH the orchard and into the woods that clung to the side of the valley. The money was in a pocket of her loose shirt and she kept one hand clutched over it. Years before, steps had been cut in the side of the hill; broad, shallow steps, that led eventually to the floor of the valley where a deep, dark, secret lake lay whose edges ran out into the soggy damp marshy swampland. Gillian descended slowly. She had no intention of falling or doing anything that might damage the life she carried within her. She was about halfway down when she saw movement below her. Her
heart beat faster as she peered through the foliage. A horn blared as a goods train rumbled on to the viaduct and, suddenly, between the branches of a great beech, Gillian glimpsed Mr Ridley below her.