morning.
He picked up the receiver.
“Nick? Thank God, I thought you might have gone away for the weekend.” Sam said nothing. He was smiling faintly.
“Nick? Nick, are you there?” Judy’s voice rose hysterically. “Nick, did you find Jo? Pete and I have just been over at Tim Heacham’s and he was saying the craziest things. He was doped up to the eyeballs, but he said Jo really was going to die and none of us could do anything about it-
“Nick isn’t here, my sweet.” Sam sat down on the deep armchair and cradled the receiver against his left ear. “I’m sorry. You must have missed him.”
There was a breathless silence. Then she whispered, “Sam?”
“The very same. How are you, Judith?”
“Where is Nick?” She ignored his question.
“I have no idea. I am not, as someone once said, my brother’s keeper.” He rested his feet on the coffee table.
“And Jo? Is Jo all right?”
“Do you really care?” His tone was scathing. “Stop being a hypocrite, Judith. It is only days since you were fulminating against Ms. Clifford with all the somewhat limited invective at your command. I have told you Jo has nothing to do with you. Go back to your
He put down the receiver with almost delicate care before standing up and strolling out to the hall. He picked up his bag and, dropping it on the bed in the spare room, threw back the lid. He had not turned on the lights. Outside the first tentative notes of a blackbird whistled over the rooftops, echoing in the silence of the huge courtyard at the back of the apartment block. Sam slipped his hand into the side pocket of the bag and drew something out. He carried it to the window and held it up to the gray dawn light. It was a carved ivory crucifix.
“I’m sorry, Nick.” Ann threw herself back into the chair wearily and closed her eyes. “I’ve used every technique I know. It’s not going to work.”
“It’s got to work!” Nick clenched his fists. “Please, try again.”
“No. It’s no use.” She stood up. “Look, it’s nearly dawn. We’re both exhausted and, as you said, you’re probably suffering from jet lag. Why don’t we get some sleep? We can try again tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow might be too late.” Nick reached forward and caught Ann’s wrist. “Don’t you realize that? Please, just once more. Then, if it doesn’t work, we’ll give up.”
Ann sat down on the edge of the coffee table facing him. “You’re too tense, Nick. You’re fighting me and I don’t have the experience to get round that.”
“Have you got some tranquilizers or something I could take?”
She laughed. “In this house? Ben would divorce me if I took anything stronger than feverfew tea for my migraine!” She sighed. “Look, I’ll try once more. Sit back, put your feet up, and relax. I’ll go and make that tea we’ve been waiting for and I’ll put a slug of brandy in it. Try to unwind, Nick. Close your eyes. Let your mind go blank.”
She stood looking down at him for a moment, surprised by the sudden surge of almost maternal affection she felt for the man lying so helplessly before her. Quickly she turned away.
She made two cups of tea and poured a double measure of brandy in each, then she carried them back to their chairs.
“There, that should do the trick.” Sitting down opposite him again, she slid the cups onto the coffee table.
“Nick?”
His head had fallen sideways on the patchwork cushion. Gently she touched his hand. There was no response.
With a sigh she took the woven blanket from the sofa and drew it over him, then, after turning down the lamp, she blew out the flame. The room was no longer dark. The still, eerie, predawn light was filtering in between the curtains. She drew one back silently and stood, sipping her tea, looking at the dim, colorless garden and the white cauldron of luminous mist beyond them in the valley. Suddenly she shivered violently.
She turned and looked at Nick.
Whatever devil he was going to have to fight inside himself, she was not going to be able to help him. He and Jo were going to have to face it on their own.
34
With the dawn came rain; heavy, soaking rain from gray clouds drawing their soft bellies over the mountaintops, drenching the thirsty ground. Ben came in from the cows, dressed in a bright yellow sou’wester and cape, as the others were having their breakfast.
Nick was pale and drawn, watching moodily as Jo spooned cereal into the bowls of the two little ones. Feeling his eyes on her, she glanced up. “You look tired,” she said gently.
“I didn’t sleep too well.” He glanced at Ann, presiding over the coffeepot. The room was fragrant with toast and new coffee and the spitting apple logs Ben had thrown into the stove. It seemed very normal and safe.
“Are the kids going down the hill this morning?” Ben hung up his wet oilskins and began to wash his hands.
“I’m running them down in half an hour.” Ann poured her husband his mug of coffee and pushed it over the table toward him. “I take turns with our neighbor at the bottom of the track on Saturday mornings to have each other’s kids,” she explained as she filled up Nick’s cup. “That way every other weekend we can get into Brecon and do a bit of shopping or whatever on our own. Not this morning, though. I’ll just be glad to get them out from under.”
Ben laughed. “She doesn’t mean that. Ten minutes after she gets back she starts to worry about them.”
Ann smiled at him affectionately, then she looked at Jo and Nick. “What would you two like to do this morning?”
“Walk,” Jo put in quickly. “Walk in the rain.”
Ann raised an eyebrow. “That whim I think we can accommodate. And you, sir?” She turned to Nick.
“Why not? Some fresh air will do me good, and we don’t want to get under your feet either.”
“You’re not!” Ann said sharply.
There was an awkward silence. Abruptly she pulled Bill off his chair and began to bundle him into his anorak, ignoring his vigorous protests that his mouth was still full and he hadn’t finished. “Are you sure one of you wouldn’t rather come down with me?” She glanced from Jo to Nick and back. “You can’t both want to go out in the rain.” She saw Jo’s knuckles whiten for a moment on the corner of the table.
“I think there are things Nick and I should talk about,” Jo said after a moment. She bit her lip. “We’ll be all right. We won’t go far.”
Ann was watching Nick’s face again and she saw the tiny movement of the muscles at the corner of his jaw. She sighed. “Right. Well, help yourselves to mackintoshes or whatever on the door there, and when you get back we’ll have coffee and cakes, okay?”
“And for Christ’s sake, don’t get lost!” Ben put in. “This is a real mountain, not Hyde Park. Stay within sight of the wall. It will lead on down the hill for about three miles if you want a decent walk and then bring you back past all the best views.” He cocked an eye out of the window at the uniformly gray murk of the low cloud and gave his rumbling laugh. “See you when you get back.”
The mist was cold and wet on their faces when they stepped out into the silent white world. Jo put her hands firmly in the pockets of her mac. “I’d forgotten what it was to feel cold. It’s hard to believe the weather can change so much after last night.”
“It’s the cloud.” Nick pulled up the collar of his jacket. “It’s probably bright sunshine down in the valley.”
