10

When Rowan rang the bell at The Laurels the door was opened by a tall, elegant woman with dark, greying hair. Giving a bright, wide smile she said: ‘You must be Mrs Graham. I’ll tell Alison you’re here.’ As she turned to usher Rowan into the hall Alison appeared on the stairs. ‘Hello,’ she called, ‘I’m all ready to go.’

With the front door closed behind them the two set off down the path. Rowan’s bicycle was standing outside at the edge of the road. ‘Shall I bring it in?’ she asked.

‘Yes, you’d better. Though I’m quite sure it would be safe there . . .’

Rowan wheeled the machine through and propped it against the grey-stone, ivy-covered wall. ‘Did you get all your work done?’ she said.

‘Yes. I did it all this morning and Miss Carroll says she won’t need me again till later this afternoon.’ Alison turned and glanced up at the upper windows of the house. ‘She’s resting at the moment. She’s been working very hard this past week—trying to get her book finished. And she’s probably been overdoing it a bit. Still, she’s in good hands; Miss Allar­dice is what you’d term an Efficient Body.’

‘Is that who answered the door to me? Miss Allardice?’

‘Yes, she’s the housekeeper.’ Alison paused, then said: ‘Well, you still want to go for a walk?’

‘Oh, yes. I’ve come dressed for it, and it’s such a beautiful day.’

‘Fine.’ Alison checked that she had her cigarettes with her. ‘Where would you like to go?’

Rowan peered away over to the north-west. ‘I’d like to go up to the Stone,’ she said. ‘I see it all the time from our windows and from the village street. I’d like to see it closer too.’

‘Okay. We can take the old bridle path, and then go through the wood.’

Together they walked along the road for some hundred yards or so, then turned left and began to make their way along a rough path that led beside a hedgerow. The day was warm. Both women wore blue jeans and sturdy shoes; their steps sounded firm on the surface of the old pathway. In the hedgerow the hawthorn was in full bloom, its fragrant scent touching them as they passed by. Moving beneath a group of tall poplars Rowan saw several peacock butterflies rise high up into the air from the brambles and dance about in a mad up-and-down chase.

Intermittently the girls talked of this and that. Rowan spoke of her work on her children’s stories; of its pleasures and its difficulties. Underlying all her words, though, was the satisfaction she felt at the knowledge that she was doing something truly constructive again. ‘There was a time,’ she said, ‘when I thought that was all past—my own attempts at writing . . .’ She had never told Alison anything about Adam. ‘But now my interest in it is all back again. And I’m sure it’s all due to this place. And once I’m feeling a hundred per cent again I know I shall really be able to make some progress.’

‘Why, what’s wrong?’ Alison asked. ‘Aren’t you well?’

Rowan shrugged. ‘I don’t know what it is. I just haven’t been feeling terribly bright these past few days. I have this kind of—lassitude, and not much appetite. And I keep getting this rather—queasy feeling. It’s probably nothing worth bothering about. It’s just a little debilitating, that’s all. Makes work a bit of an effort. I had thought it might be because my period’s a bit late. It was due the day before yesterday.’

‘Does it sometimes affect you in that way?’

‘No. Well, it never has done in the past. But there, I’m never ever late. It comes bang on time every month, lasts a bare three days and is gone. You could set your watch by me.—But anyway, I know it’s nothing to do with that.’

‘What makes you so sure?’

Rowan grinned. ‘Because this morning I discovered that Hal’s suffering with the same symptoms.’

Alison laughed. ‘Well, yes, I think you might have a point there.’ Then she went on, ‘But perhaps you ought to go and see Paul Cassen. He’s marvellous. Not like those bloody city doctors who haven’t even got time to remember who you are. He’s really caring and thorough.’

‘Oh, it’s probably just due to the change of diet. Or we’ve picked up some kind of flu bug or something. . . .’

‘Maybe. It sounds like something I had three or four weeks back. Paul Cassen fixed me up in no time at all.’

Over to the left of the path was a wide wood and they cut into its north-east corner, where in its shade the wood sorrel bloomed and the wood anemones were spread in a white carpet. Emerging into the sunlight once more they moved downhill across open ground towards a line of tall chestnut trees beyond which the ground rose sharply again. Somewhere a cuckoo called. Since they’d started out they hadn’t seen another human being. They might have been miles from the nearest human habitation; there was just space, blue sky and green fields and trees. Rowan’s sense of freedom was very real.

Passing beneath the wide arms of the chestnut trees they started up the grassy slope of the hill. As they climbed, Rowan saw, rising up beyond its summit, the peak of a second hill, topped not with grass and brambles like this one, but with a huge crest of stone that reared up, dark against the May sky, its northern edge jutting like a pouting lip far out over the side of the hill on which it stood.

‘Well, there you are,’ said Alison, ‘that’s the Stone.’

‘It’s so dramatic,’ Rowan said. ‘Right out here amid all this green—springing up out of the hilltop. Is it some kind of geological freak?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Alison shook her head doubtfully. ‘I think it must have been brought here in ancient times. Like with Stonehenge and those other stones. Probably for use in some pagan rites or something.’

They moved on upward, over the top of the hill, down the other side and up again towards the Stone. Drawing closer to it, Rowan saw that its face in line with the gradually sloping hillside had been hewn to form crude steps, shallow and very wide. She followed as Alison started up them. At the top she found that within its roughly hewn rim the surface had been cut quite flat—which had been impossible to discern from below. The platform covered a wide area—about twenty yards wide by thirty or forty long, she reckoned. She walked along it towards the lip that jutted out over the almost sheer side of the hill. Behind her Alison’s voice came: ‘Aren’t you afraid of heights? There’re no mattresses or trampolines down there. Just a bunch of rocks. And they’re a long way down.’

Smiling over her shoulder, Rowan saw that Alison was standing at the top of the steps. ‘I am afraid of heights,’ she said. ‘I’m terrified. But don’t worry—I shan’t go near the edge.’

She didn’t. She came to a halt some five or six yards from the point where the rock platform just stopped, the lip suspended in space, high above the scattered rocks below.

When she turned again she saw that Alison had seated herself on the top step and was lighting a cigarette. ‘It’s amazing,’ Rowan said, ‘you can see for miles from up here.’ She looked over to her right, to the east where the village nestled in the hollow of the hills. ‘I can see our house there—so clearly.’ She raised her hands to her eyes, curling her fingers into binoculars. ‘Oh, yes, and there’s Hal there—pretending to work.’

‘Only pretending?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

Rowan had touched on a subject she had no wish to pursue. She turned her back on the view of the village, moved across the surface of the stone and sat down beside Alison on the step. Alison said:

‘Have you heard how your Mrs Prescot’s sister’s getting on? Is she any better?’

‘About the same. Mrs Prescot phoned a couple of days ago. Poor thing. It’s so worrying for her.’

Alison nodded. ‘I’m sure.’ After a pause she asked: ‘And how’s it working out with Mrs Palfrey? Is she still working like a Trojan?’

‘Oh, she’s incredible. Paul Cassen was right when he said she was very able. She is. I’m well satisfied.’

‘And Hal?’

‘Well—she’s been with us less than a week—and he says it’s much too soon to form any judgement. And he’s right, of course. Though he’s not too enamoured, you can tell.’

‘Does he say why?’

‘I don’t think he even knows. But for some reason he just doesn’t care for her very much. He didn’t want to hire her in the first place.’

The talk moved on to other things. As she lit her third cigarette Alison said, ‘We’d better go when I’ve finished this.’

‘Will there be more work waiting for you?’

‘A bit, I expect. Nothing worth hurrying back for; nothing that wouldn’t keep till tomorrow. I really don’t understand why Miss Carroll went to all the trouble of hiring somebody from outside. I’m sure there are plenty of local girls who could easily do what I’m doing there.’ She shrugged. ‘Still, it’s her money.’ A little silence fell, then she added: ‘Anyway, I’m leaving in a few weeks.’

Rowan looked at her in surprise and dismay. ‘I thought you were going to be here for a year . . .’

‘Well, yes, I was—originally. But near the end of May Geoff’s coming back to do some business connected with his job—and I’ve decided to return with him when he goes back out east. He’s got a nice flat there now, he says—and it’s a good opportunity for me to see a little more of the world. The main thing is, though, I shall be with him. That’s what really matters. I do so hate it—our being apart.’

Rowan’s feeling of disappointment made it difficult for her to smile. ‘Well, I’m glad for you,’ she said. ‘But I’m really sorry—from my point of view—that you’re going.’

‘Yes, that part of it’s a shame.’ Alison nodded. ‘Now that we’ve just met and find that we get on well together. But there— ’ She grinned, as if hugging her knowledge to her. ‘I can hardly believe it: I shall be seeing Geoff soon.’

‘I’m looking forward to meeting him. He sounds pretty special.’

‘He is, believe me. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.’

After a moment or two Rowan asked: ‘How long have you known—that you’ll be leaving?’

‘Two days. I got a letter from Geoff. I couldn’t tell you earlier because I hadn’t told Miss Carroll.’

‘And she knows now?’

‘Yes. Oh, I felt awful about that—telling her. I told her this morning. She was a bit taken aback, as you can imagine. But I think she understands. She was very nice about it.’

‘So now she’ll have to find somebody else . . .’

‘I suppose so.’ She sighed. ‘Ah, well, it can’t be helped.’ She stubbed out her cigarette and got to her feet. ‘We’d better get back.’ Looking around her she added with a wry smile, ‘And I’ll be bloody glad to get off this heap of rock. For some reason it gives me the creeps.’