The Nothing Girl Part 34

'My goodness, Jenny. Have you been riding?

'Yes, I said proudly. 'I have my own horse.

'How exciting. May I see it? Julia, come and see Jennys horse.

Fortunately, the horses had finished displaying their bellies and were both right side up, grazing quietly. They ignored the audience at the gate, but Marilyn bustled over to check them out.

For a second, we were a tableau of normality. The relatives admiring the nieces birthday present. Then, sadly, the sound cut in.

'Russell, are you deliberately trying to kill your wife?

Well, now shed come right out and said it.

'I think we both know the answer to that one, Julia.

'Are you insane? The risk ... Shes not strong ... Richard, you cant allow this to continue.

'Well, really, Julia, why is it such a bad thing? I a.s.sume she doesnt go out alone, Russell?

'Not yet. And she doesnt go out on the roads at all. Just up the lane on to the moors. Its very quiet. You never see another soul. Apart from Martin Braithwaite occasionally with his dogs. And certainly no traffic. And shes coming along very well, Richard. And the horse is extremely reliable. Theres really nothing to worry about.

Just for once, he was making a real effort to be conciliatory. He knew how much this meant to me and he wasnt going to let anyone take it away. I was truly grateful.

Thomas wandered over to see who these new people were. I stroked him. 'See, Aunt Julia, how gentle he is.

She looked uncertainly at her husband. 'Richard ...

Ill say this for Uncle Richard, he may channel mild-mannered Clark Kent, but when he spoke, Aunt Julia listened.

'My dear, I think you worry unnecessarily. This is a good thing for Jenny. Shes learning responsibility. Russell, I know we must seem over-protective to you, but we remember when she was not as well as she is these days.

'Of course, sir. I understand, but you only have to look at the difference in her to see how beneficial this has been. I hope you will give her your blessing. She derives a great deal of enjoyment from her riding and your displeasure would certainly spoil it for her.

They were all discussing me as if I wasnt there as usual but even as I thought this, Russell turned, and concealed from them, winked at me.

'Well, you may be right. But Jenny, please promise me you will not venture on to public highways.

'I promise, Uncle Richard.

'And you will take care.

'Yes, I will take care. I only ever go up on the ... moor and follow the ... path. And Thomas is very safe.

'Is that his name? Tell me about him?

So I peeled off with Uncle Richard and talked about Thomas, while Russell, heroically, took Aunt Julia into the house, where, hopefully, she would be plied with refreshments and then go away.

Uncle Richard seemed in no hurry to follow them in, so we stayed outside in the suns.h.i.+ne, leaning on the gate. I remembered again, the night before I got married, how much I enjoyed talking to him. He told me about their holiday in Portugal, relating one or two little incidents.

'And I have to say, Jenny, how much your speech has improved. You still have the slight hesitation, but it is a joy to see how your confidence has grown. You know that I was a little concerned about your marriage, but Im delighted to say I think I might have been wrong. Hes not who I would have chosen, but there is no doubt, hes been good for you. And I think youve done him good, too, Jenny. Im very happy to see the two of you making a go of it.

I was very touched. 'Thank you, Uncle Richard.

And I was very guilty. He was going to be upset when we divorced. And even more upset when I didnt return to live with them. But that was for the future. I was beginning to adopt Russells 'Ill think of something, att.i.tude.

'And now, I think, he continued, in a conspiratorial whisper, 'we had better go and find our respective spouses. You can never be quite sure how long detente will last. We wouldnt want to put too much of a strain on goodwill, would we?

They had brought my birthday present, with apologies for its lateness. Book tokens, which were always acceptable to me. In my pre-Russell days, I would spend weeks in the bookshop before making my choice. For me, with so much time to kill, that was the most important part of the present. The downside was that the bookshop belonged to Christopher and I had initially been reluctant to add to his profits, until it became painfully apparent to everyone that Christopher couldnt run a race, let alone a business, and that probably the bookshop had never made any sort of profit since the minute he first walked in through the door. I sometimes wondered how much it cost them to keep him afloat.

We waved them off, basking in goodwill and suns.h.i.+ne. Russell disappeared to his studio, and Kevin and I, armed with weapons of ma.s.s destruction, got stuck into the garden again.

That was pretty much how the whole summer went. I rode in the mornings with Russell and then when he went up to his studio, I attacked the garden. Sometimes Russell hung out of the window, shouting advice or criticism. Sometimes I told him to wind his neck in.

Kevin signed up for his course. Mrs Crisp seemed more focused and there was no more talk of her leaving. Sharon was putting a business plan together and Russell painted. He wasnt happy with most of it and once or twice, something came sailing out of the windows to land in the garden below, but on the whole we were a happy little bunch. I was beginning to enjoy my life but then time put on an unwanted burst of speed and suddenly it was autumn.

Kevin and I had cleared most of the garden. Wed kept one or two things, but most had been uprooted. Kevin, complaining loudly about his back, dug it over, and I, complaining loudly about the smell, wheeled over the manure heap and forked it in.

Wed found the fountain and sc.r.a.ped out the thick, black, stagnant contents. 'Good job we dont sleep together, said Russell. 'It would be rude to kick you out of my bed, but I have to say, Jenny, youre a bit of a whiffy wife! This from a man who smelled, in varying combinations, of horse, lemons, linseed oil, fabric conditioner, and beer. We filled it with water and were dismayed to find it empty again the next morning.

'You need a liner, shouted Russell from his window. 'Dont bother trying to patch it with cement. That never works. Get a liner and then make a new edge with bricks. Something we can sit on. Hold on. Im coming down.

So for a week we had Russell leaping everywhere, but he knew what he was doing and at the end of it, we were drenched and dirty, but we had a waterproof basin with a smart new brick coping that could double as a seat. I have to say they did most of the work but I was allowed to hold the hose.

Kevin found the hussy in one of the outhouses, mostly undamaged, although her clothes were still falling off. Russell patted her fondly.

'Pervert, I said.

'No, no. She formed an important part of my education.

'Shes deformed. Its a ... miracle she can even stand up straight. No wonder her clothes are always falling off.

'Yeah, said Kevin, staring.

I left them trying to get her back on her plinth in the middle of the basin, manhandling her slightly more than I thought necessary.

Summery autumn slid slowly into wintry autumn. The leaves turned. We woke up to the odd frost. Id been married nearly nine months. I was a veteran. Russell was trying to put together a body of work to show to local galleries. He grew tense and hara.s.sed and busy. I took to riding on my own.

'Yes, of course you can, he said, not taking his eyes off the canvas in front of him. 'Thomas has enough sense for both of you. Just always tell someone here and make sure youre back before dusk. I mean that, Jenny. It all looks very different up there in the dark.

I nodded. I didnt go far the first time, but grew a little braver with each expedition. And there was a long, straight bit, just before Pen Tor where we could pick up speed as well.

I didnt mean to have such an enormous row. He was tired and wound-up and I, conscious that time was ticking by, had got some property details and accidentally left them on the table. He went up like a rocket. Ive no idea why. And then I went up too, because I was worried about my future and he slammed into his studio, shouting that if that was the way I felt, the sooner I left the better, and I said in that case Id be gone by the end of the month, and he said good, and I said right then, and saddled up Thomas, told Kevin that Id only be an hour, and set off at a brisk trot.

Once up on the moor I was in no mood to hang around. The day was crisp and cold and Thomas lengthened his stride. I leaned low over his neck, enjoying the wind in my face.

I opened my eyes to a darkening sky. The bleary lights resolved themselves into emerging stars. And it was very, very cold.

I lay on my back on hard ground, tried to lift my head, convulsed and threw up, but afterwards the pain in my head receded a little. Wiping my mouth, I rolled slowly on to my stomach, and, keeping my head as still as possible, tried to get up. My hip hurt and my arm and my shoulder. Id fallen. Up here on the moor. How had that happened? A small sound made me turn. Thomas stood nearby, head hanging, his saddle slipping to one side.

I took a step towards him and vomited again, which was no fun, but again, I felt a little better. Afterwards, I could see more clearly. Clearly enough to make out the tangle of wire wrapped around his forelegs and the dark patches of blood. Again, he made that small sound of distress.

My first instinct was to run home and get someone to help. This was serious. I didnt know what to do. But I couldnt do that. If I left him Thomas would try to follow me and fall again. I had a terrible picture of him, hobbled by the wire, trying to struggle after me as I left him behind. Crying in pain. Frightened and alone.

I needed to free him and I had to do it now. Before the light went completely. Focusing on my twenty-seven fingers, I sat in front of him and tried to find the end. As with the cat, I thought if I explained what I was doing then it would help to keep him calm. And me as well. The wire was very thin which was good because it was flexible and bad because it seemed to have cut his legs quite badly.

I was trying not to cry, because then I wouldnt be able to see at all and I didnt want to upset Thomas any further. And he was so good. He stood stock still while I worked. Initially I was grateful, but then I started to worry, wondering how badly was he hurt and whether he would even be able to move at all. If that was the case then I should have gone for help at once. While it was still light. Id made the wrong decision. Id got it wrong. I panicked, pulled at the wire, and he uttered a little whinny of pain.

I made myself slow down. It seemed to me that Id loosened it sufficiently to be able, maybe, to lift his foot free.

Running my hand gently down his leg, I couldnt feel anything wrong and best of all, he didnt flinch, so I stood carefully, bent even more carefully, and lifted his foot. Bless him, he s.h.i.+fted his weight and let me. I pulled the wire away and did the same for the other foot and at last, he was free.

I just wanted to sling the wire as far away as possible, but that would be stupid so I coiled it and stuffed it into my pocket. Then I took off my coat because although I was cold, when I touched his ears, Thomas was even colder. I pulled off his saddle, left it lying, and laid my coat over his back.

'There you go, I said, trying to sound cheerful. I tidied his forelock as I always did, stroked his nose, and looked around me.

Since I couldnt remember the accident, I wasnt exactly sure where I was on this featureless moorland. I worried Id got turned around somehow. So easy to do. I was just off the path and there were rocky outcrops. I couldnt have come off in a worse place. It was a miracle I wasnt more badly hurt, but someone was looking out for me, that was for sure. There were a lot of rocks around and Id managed to miss every single one of them.

Piecing things together, I remembered going through the gate, following the path, picking up speed and then nothing.

'What about you, Thomas? I said. 'Any idea where we are?

He lifted his head a little and again made the small noise that frightened me so much. I looked round. Night was coming. The sky was clear. The wind had dropped. It was cold and it was going to get colder. More faint stars appeared. Cold, hard chips of light. Like diamonds in the sky.

I took off his bridle to make him more comfortable he would follow me without it.

At least, he would if I could get him moving. Not surprisingly, he was reluctant to try. I put my hand under his chin, made the chirping sound I used to encourage him, and said firmly, 'Come on, Thomas. It was important that at least one of us looked and sounded as if we knew what we were doing. I stepped forward as if I took it for granted he would follow.

He took one careful step and then another.

'Good boy, I said and his ears twitched. 'And another step for me, theres a good boy.

It hurt him and he was reluctant to move, but he followed me. My heart swelled with love and grat.i.tude. He trusted me. No one had ever trusted me before. I hoped he didnt think I knew the way home, because I was lost. I had no idea where we were. I was in pain. My head throbbed. My vision came and went. And I was cold. Cold to the bone. I s.h.i.+vered violently, although that might have been shock. I let Thomas choose the way. I rested a hand on his neck, leaned on him occasionally and told him we were nearly home.

We picked our way out of the rocks and reached the path. I looked left into the gathering gloom. I looked right into the same gathering gloom. Thomas turned right.

'Clever boy, I said and we started again. So slowly, but neither of us was in any condition to hurry which was unfortunate because I was growing colder by the minute. I started to s.h.i.+ver and seriously thought about taking my coat back, but poor Thomas looked so shocked and frightened, and he was my responsibility. He was my horse, and it was up to me to get him home. To get us both back home. There was no one else. I had to do this.

'Its up to me, I told him and the words beat out a little rhythm in my mind in time with our steps. Up to me. Up to me.

I was just beginning to think we didnt have far to go after all, when he stopped dead and refused to take another step.

'No, I said, panicking because we were so close now. 'You mustnt stop, Thomas. You must keep walking. Come on, now, theres my good boy. Just a little further.

But he wouldnt move.

I tried everything. I coaxed, I commanded, I shouted, I cried, I pleaded. Nothing. He stood as still as stone. And as silent. And eventually, so was I. I stared helplessly. I couldnt carry him and I wasnt going to leave him, so I did the only thing I could and sat down.

It was now almost completely dark. I put my aching head in my hands and listened to the surrounding silence.

No I didnt. I could hear water. Water, trickling and gurgling not too far from us. I clambered to my feet, said to Thomas, 'Stay here, as if he wouldnt anyway, but it gave me the illusion of control, and headed towards the sound.

I could see the stream, catching the starlight as it bounced over the rocks. And then, then I remembered Russells words so long ago. 'If you get lost then find water and follow it down.

Unfortunately, it was too dark to see which way the water was flowing, but I found an old tissue in my pocket, tossed it in and watched the light blob swirl away to my left.

We were going the wrong way.

All that painful effort and we were going the wrong way. I nearly sat down and cried. How stupid was I? I should have stayed put and waited to be found. Other people always knew what to do. Why was I so ?

And then I thought not stupid at all. Id followed Thomas who had brought me here to this stream and if we followed it down, wed get off the moor and to safety. Probably much more quickly than if wed followed the path. Which would be hard to make out in the dark. Id trusted him and now he trusted me to get us home.

And I would. I splashed my face with water, and took a little in cupped hands for him.

'Come on, suns.h.i.+ne, I said, cheerfully. 'You and I are much too clever to die up here. Lets get back and tell them our adventures, shall we?

So we followed the stream down. The way was rougher, so we took it very slowly. I kept a hand on Thomas the whole time. I told him about my childhood. About school. About my aunt and uncle. I told him about Francesca. I told him about Russell that took a long time. Occasionally, his ears twitched towards me. He was listening.

'Were going to do this, I told him. 'We are going to get home. And you, my clever friend, will have a warm stable, a special treat, and a story to tell the other two. We will do this, Thomas. We will get home. I promise you.

But it was very dark now. There were no lights anywhere. A bitter wind blew over the empty loneliness. There was no moon yet. I had no torch. And I was frozen. I stuffed my hands in my armpits and pulled up my hood. It didnt help.

Now I had to decide whether to risk injury by stumbling on in the dark or sit and wait here for possible rescue. If we kept moving one of us might fall again and this time there would be no getting up. But if we stayed put, wed freeze.

Thomas took the decision out of my hands. He stopped. There was a finality about it. This time I knew he could go no further.

I had no thought of leaving him. That was never going to happen. Well, at least this solved the problem of what I was going to do when I left Russell. Moulder in a grave was the answer to that one. Still, it worked out well for him. Hed get the money and the house.

I pulled my coat an inch or two higher on his withers. His head hung lower than ever. I rubbed the spot behind his ears with icy hands.

'Please, Thomas, I whispered. 'Could you not manage just a little further?

Suddenly, he lifted his head. His nostrils flared. He p.r.i.c.ked his ears, flung up his head and whinnied, long and loud. And then, exhausted, he dropped his head again.

In the distance, I heard a shout. Whistles blew. Engines started. Headlights appeared over the hill, cutting great swathes through the darkness.

'Its the cavalry, I told him. 'Dont give up now. Theyre coming, Thomas. Theyve found us. Well soon be home.

Now the tears did flow.

And over all the racket, down in the valley, I could hear a little donkey calling us home.

Chapter Thirteen.