One Summer at Deer’s Leap. Elizabeth Elgin
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You were willing enough. Curious, were you?’
‘Yes, I’ll admit I was and I was quite relieved it went so well. I was afraid I’d make a mess of it. I’d wondered a lot what it would be like, first time. But I think it isn’t any use being in love with a man if you don’t love him too.’
‘There’s a difference?’ He was looking piqued.
‘For me there is. Look, Piers – you and I grew up together. All the girls in the village fancied you. Then you went away to university and when you came back to Rowbeck you singled me out. I was flattered.’
‘I didn’t have a lot of choice. Rowbeck wasn’t exactly heaving with talent!’
‘Point taken!’ Piers was himself again! ‘But I always thought that the first time I slept with a man, he’d be the one, you see. And it seems you aren’t.’
‘Why aren’t I?’
‘I don’t know.’
Oh, but I did. He wasn’t young and vulnerable and fair. And his hair wasn’t always getting in his eyes – he wouldn’t let it! And he wasn’t desperately in love with me either, and sick with fear that each time we parted would be the last.
‘Piers!’ I gasped, because he was staring ahead and not seeing one bit of the beautiful view. ‘I just want us to be friends like when we were kids.’
‘But we aren’t kids. You aren’t all teeth and freckles, Cassandra, and mad at being called Carrots. You’ve grown up quite beautifully, as a matter of fact.’
‘Thanks,’ I said primly. ‘Flattery will get you everywhere – but not today. Sorry, but that’s the way it is. I really must work.’
‘Work? You don’t know the meaning of the word.’
He said it like a grown-up indulging a child and I knew I had made my point at last. I held out my hand.
‘Friends, then?’
‘OK.’ He smiled his rueful smile, then kissed my cheek. ‘My, but you’ve changed, Cassie Johns. Is there another bloke, by the way?’
‘No.’ I shook my head firmly. ‘And you’d best not tell Mum you’ve been. She’d be upset if she thought she’d given my whereabouts away.’
‘So you said she mustn’t let me have your address?’
‘Yes. I didn’t want any interruptions.’
‘I see. Would you mind, Cassandra, if I gave you a word of advice? Don’t take this writing business too seriously?’
‘I won’t,’ I said evenly, amazed he seemed no longer able to annoy me. ‘You’ll want to be on your way, Piers …?’
‘Mm. Thought I might take a look at Lancaster, get a spot of lunch.’
‘I believe it’s a nice place,’ I said as we climbed the stile in the wall. ‘They used to hang witches there.’
‘You haven’t seen it? Come with me – just for old times’ sake – a fond farewell?’
‘Thanks, but no.’ Deliberately I took the path that led to the kissing gate. ‘And thanks for being so understanding – about us, I mean, and me breaking it off.’
He got into his car, then let down the window.
‘There was never anything to break off, Cassandra. Like you said, another scalp …’
I stood for what seemed like a long time after he had driven down the dirt road in a cloud of dust thinking that, as always, he’d had the last word. But I could get along without him. I shrugged, closing the kissing gate behind me.
I let go a small sigh, straightened my shoulders then walked, nose in air, to let Hector out.
All at once, I was desperate for a cheese and pickle sandwich.
Page two hundred and fifty, and the end of chapter seventeen. I rotated my head, hands in the small of my back. Cassie Johns her own woman again, Firedance ahead of schedule and the mantel clock telling me it was time for tea and a biscuit.
I felt a surge of contentment, a kind of calm after this morning’s storm, waiting patiently for the kettle to boil, gazing arms folded through the window to the hills and the purple haze of heather coming into flower.
I would miss the space, the wideness of the sky, the utter peace of Deer’s Leap when I went home. I had just absently plopped a saccharin into my cup when the phone rang again. I had a vision of Piers calling me on his mobile, telling me he was lost in the wilds of Bowland.
‘Hi, Cas! It’s Jeannie. I’m leaving now. See you tonight, uh?’
‘You’re taking an extra day? But that’s wonderful! What time shall I meet you?’
‘It’s part business, part pleasure, so I’m driving up. I’ll tell you about it when I see you. I’d like to be clear of London before the rush hour starts. Once I’m on the M6 I’ll stop at the first caff for something to eat, so don’t bother cooking.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Absolutely! I’ll be there before dark. See you!’
‘That was Jeannie,’ I said to Hector, who had heard the rattle of the biscuit tin. ‘She’s coming tonight and there’s not a thing to eat in the house!’
I took a sip of tea, giving a biscuit to Hector. I would go right away to the village in case Jeannie got her foot down on the motorway and decided not to stop. Anyway, I was low on coffee.
Chicken pie, peas, oven chips – I made a mental list – coffee, white wine and a phonecard. Mum would cluck and scold for not waiting until after six, but she’d be pleased to hear from me. I smiled at the red rose that peeped, nodding, through the kitchen window, feeling almost completely happy, wondering if I wasn’t tempting fate, because no one could feel this smug and go unpunished. I looked at the calendar beside the fireplace. Soon, Beth’s lot would be home and I would have to give back Deer’s Leap. Just to think of it wiped the smirk from my face.
‘Want to come to the village?’ I reached for Hector’s lead and he was at the door with a yelp of delight, tail wagging. I would miss Hector too.
I stopped at the lidded box and left a note for the milkman to find in the morning, then wondered if there would be any sign of the airman. It seemed ages since the last encounter.
Yet the trip there and back passed completely without incident. Even my parents hadn’t been in; all I’d got was Mum’s posh telephone voice, inviting me to leave a message on the answerphone.
I got back a little after five, just enough time to make up Jeannie’s bed and dust her room. Then a quick tidy-up all round and with luck I’d be able to wash my hair before she got here.
The contented feeling was back again. I looked forward to seeing Jeannie and wondered why she was taking the day off, and driving up too. I opened wide the windows and smiled into the pale purple distance, remembering that the big, blowsy poppies Jeannie liked so much were just breaking bud, and though they would quickly open and fall indoors, I decided to pick some for her room.
Jeannie was her usual unruffled self with not a hair out of place, despite the long drive.
‘Did you stop to eat?’ was the first thing I asked and she said she’d had fish and chips and peas. Mushy, of course.
I helped her in with her things, thinking that if she wasn’t such a love, I could hate her for the way she could pig it, without adding an inch to her waistline.
‘So