A Gathering Storm(30)

‘Yes, I think you met my father recently,’ she replied. ‘He plays bridge with your uncle.’

‘That was your father? What a coincidence.’ He laughed.

‘I’m sorry you can’t go home,’ she told him.

‘Don’t be. It’s not bad here, and I’m hoping to see my mother at Christmas if my stepfather gets some leave. I haven’t seen her for a year.’

He looked wistful so she said quickly, ‘I hope you do.’ She did feel sorry for him, separated from his family, but his thoughts had already moved on.

‘I say, do you play tennis?’ he said, his face brightening, and when Beatrice nodded, ‘We must make up a foursome. Sturton’s got a sister who plays, don’t you, Sturton?’

‘What’s that?’ James Sturton had waded out of the sea and now stood puffing beside them, like a friendly walrus.

‘Tennis. Your sister and Beatrice here. We must do it. I’ll send you a note.’ He was shivering with cold and excitement, his eyes full of light and happiness. And yet, there was a vulnerability there, too – she’d seen it. Something in the twist of his smile. She wanted to tell him it was all right, everything was all right. Because she could see it hadn’t always been so for him.

The next morning she’d arranged with old Harry to ride Cloud, and it was as she was pulling on her riding boots that an envelope slipped through the letterbox. She beat Jinx to snatch it from the mat, read her name and wrenched open the front door in time to see Rafe’s retreating back. He was dressed in shorts and an old shirt, with a towel draped over his shoulder. ‘Rafe,’ she called, and he turned, his sensitive face breaking into a smile when he saw her. He glanced at her boots and breeches.

‘You’re going riding?’ he asked, unnecessarily, bending to rub Jinx’s rough coat, and when she nodded, said, ‘Let me know if you can play tennis.’

‘Wait a moment,’ she said, scrabbling open the envelope. ‘Tomorrow afternoon? Um,’ she said, trying to be offhand like Angie, ‘yes, thank you, I can.’

‘See you up there,’ he said. He looked at his watch and the sun flashed on the metal. ‘Must hurry. We’ve bought an old canoe.’ His eyes gleamed with humour. ‘Sturton’ll probably scalp me if I don’t show to help him carry it.’ He pulled the gate shut and she heard his whistle as he passed back down the lane.

Beatrice stood on the doorstep, listening to the whistle and the wail of gulls, feeling the sun on her face. It shone from a cerulean sky. The air was warm and thick as honey. Time slowed. Whatever happens, she told herself, I must always remember this moment. She’d pin it in her memory like one of her butterflies. Take it out to look at, if she needed to remind herself what pure happiness was.

On the way up the cliff path, half an hour later, she turned to look down on the beach. Two boyish figures were struggling to launch a cumbersome canoe in the surf. She watched, laughing, as one gained a seat and the other scrambled in, only for a wave to strike them broadside, capsizing the craft. There was a rush to rescue the paddles before they tried again. Then they were afloat, and coursing through the waves onto calmer water. She turned and laboured on up the path, larksong heralding her ascent.

Harry had got Cloud saddled and ready for her. She thanked him, but refused the offer of his company. ‘I’m fine with him now. He knows me.’

Harry grunted, but Beatrice knew he wouldn’t let her go if he wasn’t sure. She mounted Cloud and he shortened the stirrups for her and remarked, ‘Don’t go too hard in this heat, he won’t like it.’

‘Of course I won’t, Harry. Don’t worry.’ He stood back and she set off at a walk, out of the stableyard, down the lane, heading for the meadows on the brow of the cliff. Cloud, his flanks quickly damp with sweat, was reluctant even to break into a trot, but she urged him on. Away from the shelter of the trees the afternoon sun beat down. She wouldn’t ride for long. She turned along the cliffs, above the sea, where there was the slightest of breezes.

The world vibrated with a long rumble of thunder. The pony hesitated and his ears switched back. Beatrice glanced up, whispering calming words, and was surprised to see that the horizon ahead was vanishing into a dark haze. As she gazed out to sea, she saw black clouds rolling towards them across the water, yet still, immediately below, the sea sparkled in sunlight. Soon, she noticed the birds fell silent. A draught of cool air began to blow, and on it floated a faint scent of rain. As she watched, the brightness leached from the sea below, leaving it dull as liquid lead. Horse and rider toiled along the wide band of cliff behind the trees bordering Carlyon, and as they passed the secret steps down to the second cove, she realized a storm was coming – coming swiftly, too. They’d ride as far as the next promontory, she decided, then turn in time to gain home before it reached them.