The Healing Stream Page 13

  ‘You were hungry and ate too fast,’ she said, putting her arm round the shaking figure that leant against the whitewashed wall as if it hadn’t the strength to stand alone.

  ‘Like Richard, last night.’ Naomi’s words were hard to understand. ‘Please God, take me like you’ve taken him.’ No longer protected by the armour of numb reserve, she gave up the battle for control.

  A house full of love. Amelia’s words came back to Tessa. What would she say of it now?

  The night seemed endless. Naomi’s mind jumped from the present, to the recent past, then back down the years. Since she’d been a schoolgirl all her hopes, dreams and aspirations had been shared with Richard, just as his had been with her. Suddenly she was alone, frightened to look ahead to an abyss of loneliness. Her near-hysterical bout of crying had left her weak and drained.

  ‘Richard,’ she whispered, ‘Richard, please hear me, please give me a sign, tell me you’ll be with me.’ She remembered the fear she had felt through the first of those awful wars, the Great War as it was known; she had prayed with all her heart and soul that he would be safe. But now, lying alone in the bed where they had turned to each other with love that was too much part of their lives to need words, she couldn’t pray. She could form the words in her mind, but that’s all they were, just words while the anguish of her spirit cried out to Richard.

  Wriggling over to his side of the bed, she rested her head on his pillow as if she expected that would bring him closer. Instead it forced on her the reality she couldn’t bear to face. Richard was gone. Burying her face against his pillow she felt the burning tears sting her eyes and made no attempt to hold them back. I can’t bear it. If you’re not here, Richard, there’s nothing. I want to die. How many years have I got to get through? Help me. How could you leave me? You’re my life.

  Tessa crept along the corridor and listened. Ought she to go in? She wanted to, she wanted to hold Naomi close and share her grief, yet as her hand reached for the doorknob she knew she mustn’t. She was an outsider. How could she possibly give comfort to a woman whose very heart had been torn from her? Turning away, she crept back to her own room, but sleep was a million miles away.

  Any day Giles would come back and when he heard that they were to have a child they would be married as soon as it could be arranged. Then what would happen to Naomi? Even if Gerry worked for her instead of for Mr Masters, she would be alone in the house. Tessa imagined her sitting at the meal table with no one to share the food, no one to speak to; she’d bank up the fire to give hot water and there would be no one to use it except her. There must be a solution. Lying in bed, haunted by the memory of Naomi’s muffled tears, into the gloom of Tessa’s thoughts came something so simple that she couldn’t believe she could have been so stupid as not to see it sooner: if Giles came back quickly, before anyone bought the cottage, or if she could find a way to contact him by phone, she could persuade him to take Hideaway Cottage off the market. Then, even after they were married, she could still be nearby and Naomi wouldn’t be so dreadfully alone. The trouble was, she and Richard had never looked beyond each other for friendship. They had plenty of acquaintances in the village, but no intimate friends.

  Satisfied that she had found a solution, Tessa slept. And, despite herself, exhaustion got the better of Naomi, but not for long. As dawn broke she was again awake. If she put her hand under Richard’s pillow she could feel the cotton material of his pyjamas; and yet here in the room that had held so much of their lives she couldn’t bring him close.

  It was nearly seven o’clock when Tessa woke, hearing the sound of movement in the yard. It must be Gerry bringing the cattle in for their morning milking. Getting out of bed she grabbed her dressing gown to cover her nakedness, then went to the window. What a mercy Mr Masters had let them borrow him; it would give them time to advertise for someone experienced to take over the work of looking after the animals – the bread and butter of the farm, as Naomi called them.

  So went Tessa’s thoughts until they were pulled up sharply by the sight in the yard. The cows were ambling out of the milking shed while Naomi kept them in a group with the help of the stick Richard had always used. But that wasn’t the only thing of his she had taken as a boost to her determination: dressed in her usual workman’s overalls and wellingtons, on that first morning without him she had taken his battered felt hat from the hook in the lobby and put it on her head. As she steered the cattle into Lower Meadow and shut the gate on them, Gerry arrived. Tessa watched as the two talked; even from that distance she could see that Naomi’s shut-in expression was back. No doubt Gerry was expressing sympathy, something she was still too shocked to acknowledge. Would the young man understand her cool, withdrawn manner? Or would he feel rebuffed? Tessa felt that her presence was required and hurried to run her bath. Even working at high speed it was twenty past seven when she ran down the stairs. She, too, wore workman’s overalls and in a minute would be pushing her feet into her wellingtons, but her face was made up with care and her short hair shining from the ministrations of the brush.

  And so started Day Number One on Chagleigh Farm with the ghost of Richard everywhere, bringing no comfort.

  The morning was half over when a shadow fell across the open doorway of the dairy. ‘Hello?’ Tessa called enquiringly.

  Into the open doorway stepped a portly man of some sixty years, rosy faced and with greying, bristly sideburns and hair of the same hue which curled to frame the back of his tweed cap.

  ‘I take it Mrs Pilbeam won’t be on the farm today? My name is Huntley.’ The visitor introduced himself. ‘You may have heard of me; I farm next door.’ He was certainly nothing like the working farmer Tessa had conjured up in her imagination. His booming, jovial voice was in keeping with his expensive tweeds, and she was sure his highly polished boots knew nothing of mud and worse in the farmyard. Her immediate thought was thankfulness that she hadn’t called on him for help the previous morning. ‘And you – you’ll be the niece, I dare say. Shocking thing to happen. How is the poor lady?’

  ‘You’ve heard about my uncle?’

  He gave a bark of a laugh. ‘My dear, the whole of Marlhampton will have heard. In the country news travels with the speed of a heath fire. I got out my pen to write to Mrs Pilbeam, but then I pictured her predicament and I thought – no! Better to call and have a word with her. She’ll be in the house, I expect? Although I did ring the front bell and no one answered, that’s why I walked round here. Dreadful for her, dreadful, dreadful. I always marvelled how they managed with just the two of them.’

  ‘They managed perfectly.’

  ‘Where did you say I shall find her? Or has she gone into Exeter? So much to do with all the arrangements. One thing you can be sure of with death: it leaves plenty for other people to deal with; and perhaps that’s as well, and it gives less time for grieving.’

  ‘You’ll find her up in the top field. If you don’t want to walk you can drive through the lower meadow as long as you take care to shut the gate going up and coming back down. Then there’s just the stile so you have to leave the car and walk the last bit.’

  The visitor beamed affably. ‘You’ve got me sized up right enough. I’m not the man to walk up a hill if I can drive. A pity the same couldn’t be said for Pilbeam. Worked himself into the grave – and she’ll do the same if she isn’t made to see reason.’

  ‘To them it was never work. It was a life they loved.’ She thought of herself trying to drive the cows for milking the previous morning and how near she had come to calling on this tailors’ dummy of a countryman for advice. From there her mind took a sideways jump and she pictured Richard in clothes more suitable for a scarecrow and a heart belonging to the work he and Naomi shared. Perhaps she ought not to have let Geoffrey Huntley carry his condolences in person; it might have been less painful for her to read his message of sympathy.

  She heard the car start on its way up the hill, and ten minutes or so later heard it stop as he let himself through the
gate from the lower meadow, then when he’d closed it the sound of the motor told her he was leaving Chagleigh. That would be the first of so many who could try to bring Naomi comfort by their words of sympathy.

  Naomi seemed metaphorically to have stepped into Richard’s shoes (or wellingtons, rather), for she made no attempt to break off her work and organize lunch. So when Tessa and Deirdre returned from taking the daily delivery to the village, they went indoors to see what they could find. There were still plenty of vegetables and so it looked as though it would be soup and bread. It was evidence of how removed Naomi was from normal living when she accepted without comment that there were four places laid.

  ‘You’ll have to fill up with bread,’ Tessa told them as she carried the tureen to the table and started to ladle out the soup. ‘I’ll need to do some shopping this afternoon, Auntie. Is there anything else you’d like me to do?’ She didn’t want to put it into words that there was the death to register. ‘I expect you’d rather stay and work with Gerry.’

  ‘We’ve been checking the sheep’s feet,’ Gerry said when Naomi didn’t answer. ‘Mrs Pilbeam said she’d never done it before, but she’s a real natural. Learnt to sort of sit the animal on its behind and get it between her knees so it couldn’t move a darn sight quicker than I did when I came to do it first. It’s a knack and to see the way she tackled it she might have been doing it for years.’

  Tessa’s glance met Naomi’s and a silent message passed between them, both remembering what she had said as she looked towards the fields. Could it be that Richard was giving her the strength and courage to do what she had to? All Naomi said was, ‘We’ve got more than half of them done and penned separately. It’s something I’ve learnt to do, and I’d like to get it finished this afternoon. I’m grateful to Gerry for teaching me.’

  ‘Today I’ve looked after the pigs,’ Gerry told them, ‘but come tomorrow Mrs Pilbeam will take over. I tell you, you’d never guess she’d not had dealings with the livestock side of things, she’s a real natural, like I said.’

  ‘There’s plenty of soup, Gerry. Pass your bowl and let me give you some more.’ Tessa reached her hand to him and he gladly passed his bowl for a refill. It brought home to her just what a change there was in Naomi. This was her farm kitchen, they were eating her food, yet there she sat, crumbling her bread, making a pretence of eating her soup, making sure she kept her face set in what was almost a smile, and all the while her world was falling around her. Was she finding comfort in the belief that Richard was watching over her? Let it be like that for her, Tessa begged silently.

  ‘You two workers get back to the top field,’ Tessa said as she collected the dirty plates. ‘Deirdre and I will see to these things and then, after we’ve finished weighing out and wrapping the butter – the wrapping is Deirdre’s job, she does it so well, the words “Chagleigh Farm” always come right in the middle just like they should – well, when we’ve done that we ought to do some shopping. There must be other things I can do, Auntie?’ Surely she didn’t need to spell it out. She remembered exactly what she had had to do when her grandmother died, but it was as if Naomi wouldn’t let herself think of any of it.

  ‘No. There’s nothing today. You know where my purse is for the shopping.’ Then to Gerry, ‘I’ll see you in the top field in about ten minutes. If I’m there first I’ll see if I can get started on my own. Have a cigarette or whatever you want; you needn’t hurry.’ It was all said in a friendly manner as she pushed her chair back under the table and turned to go upstairs. Tessa and Deirdre looked at each other, knowing that they both recognized the charade she was playing. Only Gerry, who had met her for the first time that morning, accepted her tone as normal, although he did think it was odd that a woman who had lost her husband less than twenty-four hours before could carry on so calmly.

  An hour or so later Deirdre was concentrating on getting her half pound of butter placed on the wrapper in exactly the right position when she stopped, sitting very still, and listening. ‘Sounds like Daddy’s step in the yard. Have a peep, Tessa. What could he want me for?’

  The high window of the dairy looked towards the gate to the lower field and, as Tessa strained to make herself as tall as she could, she saw Naomi coming towards it down the slope. Then, approaching her from the yard, she saw Julian Masters.

  ‘Yes, it’s your father,’ she reported, ‘but he’s not coming this way, he’s going to speak to Aunt Naomi. That’s kind of him but, Deirdre, it must be so hard for her to have to bear people’s sympathy.’

  ‘Dad’s never a mushy sort of man,’ Deirdre answered defensively. ‘See how he helped yesterday, taking you to the hospital.’

  ‘I was so grateful. She was in no state to drive herself home.’

  So the dairy work went on while both girls were secretly wondering what was being said outside. However, they were to be left in ignorance as Julian didn’t come in to speak. They heard his car drive off – and how were they to guess that he had seen his passenger seated and closed the door firmly before getting in himself and slamming his own?

  Driving towards Deremouth Julian glanced fleetingly at Naomi, who sat at his side gazing straight ahead and, he was sure, seeing nothing of the passing landscape. To say she was pale told only half the story; her complexion was an unearthly grey hue except for the dark shadows under her eyes. The lines had been there on the day he had first met her, but now they seemed to pull her mouth down, adding years to her. She was probably younger than he was himself, but on that summer afternoon she looked old – old and tired of living. Her voice cut through his thoughts, taking him by surprise.

  ‘I ought to have done this myself this morning. Why should you bother? I ought to have done it for him myself. You didn’t even know him.’

  ‘You ask why? No, I never met your Richard, but you and he have shared the dinner table with Deirdre and me for many weeks and I shall never cease to be grateful for what you two have done for her. She wakes up looking forward to the day ahead. You are her adopted Aunt Naomi and Uncle Richard, and each night she chatters about you both.’ Both? Purposely he said it, just as purposely he used the present tense, as if that way he could help keep her memories alive. ‘And if you were happy to be her aunt and uncle, doesn’t that give me the right to be something more than a stranger who lives a mile along the lane?’

  ‘You’re very kind.’ She answered like a child determined to be on her best behaviour.

  ‘Kindness has nothing to do with it. I wish I’d known Richard, but from what I have heard of him he wasn’t a man who would want you, the woman who shared every aspect of his life, to have to deal with the administrative necessities at a time like this. Talk to the vicar yourself but leave the rest to me. Please, Naomi. I feel certain Richard would want you spared. Do it for him. Humph?’

  ‘Don’t!’ He’d been looking at the road ahead and her stifled gulp caught him off guard. ‘Mustn’t start crying.’ She clamped her teeth firmly together but she couldn’t control the spasms in her thin face.

  ‘Cry, my dear. You will find him more surely in tears than in the pretence of winning the battle you have to face.’

  She felt that for the first time she was seeing behind the aloof but courteous front he put up. ‘Was it like that for you when you lost Deirdre’s mother?’

  The question took him by surprise. ‘Certainly not. I believed I was head over heels in love with Chloe. Until then my life had been filled by the business I was building. I was forty-two, she eighteen. Her parents willingly gave consent to the wedding and, fool that I was, I thought heaven had fallen in my lap. Deirdre must have been conceived on our honeymoon, for that’s all it took for me to realize I had been married for my money. The country was arming ready; anyone with any sense could see what was ahead. So, like many more in that field, I was accruing the sort of wealth a peaceful England would never have made for me. We’d been married just nine months when Deirdre was born and by the time she was taking her first steps Chloe had gone.’ />
  ‘How awful for you.’ He knew from her tone that his story had momentarily cut through her own misery.

  ‘No. All I felt was relief. And that, I suppose, is the sadness. We had no marriage, no common ground, no friendship. A broken marriage gives one such a sense of failure. I soon realized that my feeling for her was no more love than hers for me. Yet, you know, the feeling of failure is always there; the slate can never be wiped clean.’

  ‘Such sadness – and for Deirdre, too, to be deprived of a mother. Richard and I were so blessed.’

  He nodded. ‘I know. I could tell that from what you both did for Deirdre. And be sure of one thing: just as I can never wipe the slate clean, neither will you. What you and Richard built into your marriage will always be with you.’

  ‘Will it? If I couldn’t find him I don’t know what I’d do. But today when I was learning to do the sheep’s feet – I’d never done it before, you see; all that was Richard’s work – I could feel he was there for me. Gerry was wonderful, he showed me what to do, but it was Richard who gave me confidence. I couldn’t have done it without him.’

  ‘You must hang on to Gerry. At heart he’s a farmer.’

  ‘If I can keep him a few more days.’ Her voice was strong again; Julian knew she had conquered that wave of misery which had nearly brought her down. ‘Richard and I never had any help,’ she was saying, ‘no outsiders working there. When Tessa came she helped in the dairy, but we never employed anyone. It was our pride that we did it ourselves. And he will be there for me; he will help me. He must.’

  ‘Daddy, why didn’t you come and speak to Tessa and me this afternoon?’ Deirdre said at dinner that evening.

  ‘Because it was Mrs Pilbeam I came to see. There were things she needed to get done; I drove her.’

  ‘I’m glad. She’s much more upset than she wants us to know. If you catch her when she forgets you’re there she looks . . . different . . . sort of despairing. But I saw her later and she was still wearing her overalls. She didn’t go to town in her working clothes, did she?’