I first saw him at the Princetown Carnival towards the end of August. This was apparently an annual event that everyone was looking forward to tremendously. Although I was thriving on my new position at work, I booked the day off as I hadn’t had any holiday at all yet. There would be all sorts of activities, but the main events would be the crowning of the carnival and fairy queens and the fancy dress parade down the streets.
‘Come on, Lily!’ Kate cried at me. ‘Try and catch some!’
She was jostling along the crowded pavement, trying to keep pace with Mr Cribbett’s lorry that had been cleaned of coal-dust for the occasion. The lady from Bolts and another woman I didn’t recognise were standing in the back and throwing sweets and packets of crisps to the spectators as the procession moved slowly through the village.
‘Oh, look at those little ones! Aren’t they cute?’ Sally chuckled beside me.
‘Oh, yes, and look at that little boy!’ I smiled back. ‘The one dressed as Robin Hood! Isn’t his costume good?’
‘I wonder where his mum got the material from.’
‘Dyed an old sheet green, I should think, and made it. She must be pretty clever with a needle. I wonder if she made Maid Marian’s as well.’
‘We’d better catch Kate up before she takes all the sweets and crisps,’ Sally laughed. ‘Collects them for her little brothers and sisters, she does.’
I followed in her wake as she elbowed her way through the crowds that lined the streets. I lost her for a moment, and it was then that I almost collided with the tall figure skulking against the wall of the building behind as if wanting to witness the festivities and yet remain invisible at the same time. It was difficult, though, with him being so tall, a good six foot, I reckoned. He bore a severe crew-cut, and though his face was deeply tanned, it was cadaverous, almost like a living skeleton. His gaze shifted furtively as our eyes met briefly, as if he wanted to avoid any contact with those around him.
I wondered if he was up to no good, and hastily moved on to find Kate and Sally. Spirits were high, and I soon forgot the forbidding stranger. People were waving those tiny Union Jacks on lollipop sticks, calling and laughing as the parade passed by. When it was over, we went back to the field where the crowning had taken place. There were various stalls, a coconut shy and a raffle. I treated my friends to a sausage roll and a glass of lemonade, and we sat down on the grass to consume them.
‘When do you go back to school?’ I asked through a mouthful of pastry.
‘Week after next, on the Tuesday,’ Kate groaned. ‘Not sure I want to, mind. I did all right with my O-levels – not as well as old clever clogs Sally here—’ She broke off as Sally dug her playfully in the ribs and she shoved her back with a grin before going on, ‘But I’m not really sure I want to do A-levels. Old Pete had to work so hard. Wonder how he’s getting on with his National Service? At least there’s no Korea for him to be sent to any more.’
‘Yes, but there’s still Malaya, and what about this trouble with the Mau Mau in Kenya? I wonder what will happen there. Sounds pretty frightening to me.’ I saw them exchange mystified glances but I didn’t want to spoil the day with a serious conversation about what was going on in the big wide world, so I went on instead, ‘But look, I’ve got a week off starting next Saturday. Perhaps we could do something on the days before you go back to school.’
‘As long as it doesn’t involve traipsing across the moor!’ Sally grinned back.
I was so pleased I had taken a day’s leave. That night I went to bed, flushed and elated. Even Sidney had not been able to disapprove of the innocent celebrations, and I had almost begun to think his abrasiveness might be softening. How wrong I was.
Kate, Sally and I took a trip into Plymouth on the Saturday, but with no trains on Sundays, a walk on the moor was the only option! On the Monday, my two friends were busy getting everything ready for the new term, so I had the rest of the week to myself. I had wondered about buying a train ticket to London to stay with Jeannie for a few days. I dreamt about Battersea Park, of larking around and collapsing in hysterical laughter as we used to. But I knew I had changed. Grown up. Matured. I had the feeling I wouldn’t find Jeannie as funny any more. With the savage beauty of Dartmoor all around me, London had definitely lost its appeal. And if I went back to our street, it would only open up the wounds to see someone else living in the house I had shared with Ellen for as far back as I could remember, cradled in the belief that nothing would ever change.
So I walked for miles on end, sometimes using the railway halts at the start or end of my day. Once Mr Gough stopped the train for me to get off along the route! I explored in every direction with the help of my trusty map and my compass, following rivers and streams, paths and bridleways. The weather, though not blessed with blue skies and sunshine, was at least dry and clear with good visibility and no threat of the disorientating, swirling mists that could descend in minutes. I had learnt to read the signs and only ever ventured where I believed it was safe. And I always told Sidney where I was going just in case some mishap might befall me.
‘I’m not sure where I’ll go today,’ I frowned as I stood by the range at breakfast towards the end of the week. ‘Should I go out to the stone row at Drizzlecombe, do you think? It’s got one of the largest menhirs on the moor. Or I could leave the track near Nun’s Cross and cut across to Down Tor stone row. Then I could go down to the reservoir and catch the train back from Burrator Halt.’
‘Huh! I don’t know what your fascination is with these places of heathen ritual.’ Sidney suddenly attacked me with such venom that I shrank back. ‘That grandmother of yours really did bring you up in an ungodly fashion. But then she wouldn’t have stood much chance against a little Satan like you!’
I felt as though I had been doused in icy water that soaked through to my bones and numbed the very core of me. A little Satan! What had I ever done to deserve that? And Ellen had brought me up with good Christian values even if she hadn’t forced her religion on me. To hear her name reviled by Sidney for the hundredth time was just too much, and as the sense returned to my brain, the rage boiled up inside me and overflowed like lava erupting from a volcano in a spitting, unstoppable river.
‘I’m just about sick and tired of you running my grandmother down!’ I raged, restraint flung to the four winds and my eyes sparking with all the festering resentment of the last nine months. ‘You’re a real hypocrite, you know. You pretend to be holier than thou, but underneath you’re just a mean, bitter old man! It’s no wonder nobody likes you. If I’d known what you were like, I’d never have come here.’
‘Then go back to London. I won’t stop you.’
‘Oh, believe me, I would if I had much choice in the matter and I didn’t love the moor so much! I don’t know why you agreed to have me in the first place, unless it was for some perverse pleasure in punishing me for something I’ve never done! I don’t know why you hate me so much!’
I sucked the breath in hard through my bared teeth, fury blazing in my eyes. We glared at each other across the room, neither of us moving as the hatred froze solid. But I wasn’t expecting what came next.
‘Well, I’ll tell you, you little bitch,’ Sidney snarled, his voice sizzling. ‘Despite what your birth certificate says, you’re not my daughter. Your mother was having an affair and you were the result.’
My body, my entire being, turned to water. The blood drained from my head and I staggered, my hands blindly seeking the back of the chair for support. I was like a proud stalk of wheat that had been felled by the farmer’s scythe and was now lying, crushed and helpless, on the ground. It seemed that Sidney had been saving his trump card to slay me when I was getting above myself. He had certainly succeeded.
‘I…I…’ I stammered, my mouth wanting to retaliate but unable to formulate any words.
‘So you see, madam,’ Sidney gloated, his eyes glinting with malevolence, ‘that makes you a bastard and not the self-righteous prig you think you are.’
The withering, deprecating way he was looking at me finally galvanised my tongue into action. I might be smarting under the degradation he had heaped on me, but I wasn’t going to take it lying down.
‘If what you say is true,’ I hissed through my clenched jaw, ‘it makes me no more or less of a person than I ever was. And quite frankly, if my mother was having an affair, I don’t think I could blame her. I expect she rued the day she married you. Oh, that’s right, hit me,’ I leered as I saw him go to raise his hand. ‘It’s what I’d expect from you. But why you should have let me come to live with you, I’ll never know.’
‘Huh, I’m beginning to wonder myself! So if you pack your bags and are gone when I get back from work, it’ll suit me down to the ground. I can’t stand the sight of you.’ And with that, he got to his feet, grasping his jacket and his packed lunch – which I had prepared for him as usual – and marched out of the kitchen.
The front door slammed behind him, reverberating through the house, then leaving a shattering silence in its wake. I lowered myself into the tatty armchair like a rag doll, my heart still hammering nervously. I couldn’t believe it and yet it made sense. I sat for half an hour, waiting for the fog of shock to clear and to untangle the twisted mesh of emotions that heaved in my breast. I felt choked. Stifled. I didn’t know who I was any more. I had always believed I was Lily Hayes, daughter of John and Ellen. Nine months ago, I had learnt that I was actually Lily Latham, third child of Sidney and Cynthia, and that the mother I couldn’t remember and my brothers were dead. I had come to terms with that. But now I was neither of these people. A lost soul, with a father about whom I would clearly never learn a solitary fact.
Had Ellen known? She had gone to her grave unable to leave me in ignorance of my true parentage. She had never liked Sidney, she had said in her letter, so if she had known, why would she not have told me the whole truth? Perhaps to save me the shame of knowing I was illegitimate, or whatever the term would be for a married woman having a baby by another man. Love child, maybe. But Ellen would know that however I was conceived, I wouldn’t consider it my fault. She had brought me up to be more sensible than that. But why would she have led me to believe that a man like Sidney Latham was my father? Make of this what you want, she had written, as if she had predicted that I would want to contact him. No. The more I thought about it, I was convinced Ellen hadn’t known about her daughter’s affair. Perhaps it was better that way.
I finally dragged myself from the chair and made a mug of coffee. I sipped at it, unnerved. Would I ever feel the same again? I looked at myself in the mirror. Who was I? Did my silvery blue eyes and my strawberry blond hair come from my father? What had he been like? He must have been special to make my mother sin, for Ellen would have brought her up as a good Christian. Or was she driven by Sidney’s puritanical ways to the first person who showed her some affection? I preferred to think that they were passionately, hopelessly, in love. In the same way that I hoped to be one day. But if that was how love could destroy people’s lives – my life – perhaps it would be best never to love at all.
I was feeling calmer, my hands no longer shaking. But I was still too numbed to make any decisions about my future. Why should something that had happened to other people seventeen years ago change my destiny? I wouldn’t let it until I’d had time to think. And there was no better place to do so than out on the moor where the wind would drive the doubts out of my head and settle my heart.
As I strode out along the ancient track towards Nun’s Cross, anger stealthily ousted my distress. Sidney hated me. Blamed me. The injustice of it flared inside me like a torch of flame. I could understand the jealousy gnawing away at him over the years, but he shouldn’t lay the fault at my door. It wasn’t fair. He expected me to leave, and it was my initial reaction to do so. But deep down, I really didn’t want to go. I loved my new life. I loved Dartmoor and the sense of freedom it evoked in me. Just now, its gentle balm was mending my aching heart and reviving my spirit, allowing me to think more clearly.
What were my options? My recent promotion had brought with it a pay rise. Would it be enough for me to rent a little house or a flat in Tavistock if I didn’t have the fare from Princetown each day? It was doubtful, and anyway I wasn’t allowed to live alone, however ridiculous that seemed to me. The local welfare people had been contacted by the London authorities and were keeping an eye on me, as they put it. Fortunately, they hadn’t visited me at the cottage or I might have been taken into care there and then! But an official had inspected and approved of our new home in Albert Terrace and Sidney had greeted her with a degree of civility. So, to live alone was not a possibility. Not until I was eighteen, which seemed an awfully long way off. At least I had a room of my own in our house in Albert Terrace. My private territory where I could lose myself in a good book or play my growing record collection – very quietly, if Sidney was in the house. So perhaps, for the time being, I would stay and see what happened.
I stopped at Nun’s Cross and, consulting my map, took a careful compass bearing towards the stone row. Once or twice before, I had explored the valley of the little stream from there and the intriguing evidence of former tin extraction, but now I needed to strike out across the moor where there was no path to follow. The ground was undulating so that I didn’t have a clear view ahead. I had to hold the compass in my hand, constantly checking my direction and watching the uneven, tussocky ground under my feet. It was tough going, my entire concentration needed so that all considerations as to my future were temporarily banished. But at last I reached a point where that part of the moor opened up before me, bleak and barren, and there, way in the distance, I spied the avenue of tall standing stones, possibly a quarter of a mile long, sweeping down a shallow dip and way up on the far side. They looked like dots from where I stood, but distinct enough for me to be able to abandon the compass and wend my way towards them unaided.
Why had those ancient people chosen that particular spot, I mused as I trod forward over the wild, rough grass. Had they approached it from the same angle as I was now, in full daylight or by the pewter gleam from the moon, at certain times in nature’s mysterious cycle? Did they come to worship or to bury their dead, only interring their priests or other dignitaries, since the circle at the far end was believed to be a tomb? I had certainly come to bury my dead. Since Sidney had reawakened my grief over my grandmother, I had come to bury Ellen’s memory once more. But more than that, I had come to bury Lily Hayes. Lily Hayes, as she had always been, no longer existed. Now, it seemed, she was alone in the world, with no family and no identity. From now on, Lily Hayes’s life would be whatever she made of it.
I halted as I reached the first of the upright stones, breathing in the silence, letting the mystery spin its web about me. A religious site, a burial ground of whatever creed, deserved respect. I bowed my head as I glided along the row, the sense of timelessness echoing in my heart. I was one small speck in the universe, insignificant. My own distress was immense to me, but in the scheme of things, it meant nothing.
I was caught up in the thread of my own thoughts, confused and uncertain, so that when I reached the far end and the burial mound with its surrounding ring of stones, I didn’t spot it at once. My eyes and my mind were dulled to anything except my own emptiness. I turned my gaze skyward, spinning in a slow circle so that my pleas for some security in my life would spiral upwards to whatever deity would take pity on me. When I looked down and saw the dead sheep spread-eagled on the central stone at my feet and the dried pool of its blood, horror slashed at my throat. I was aware of the tiny, anguished squeal that escaped from my lips, and I staggered backwards in an explosion of rage and disgust, blundering and sickened, so that I tripped blindly over the stone behind me. I felt myself falling, but there was nothing I could do to save myself as I landed hard on the ground.
I think I must have let out a short, high scream as a sharp pain shot through my ankle and seared up my leg. I lay for a moment, winded and shocked, a little faint even, which annoyed me. I was Lily Hayes and I could take care of myself. My vision had clouded with black spots, but as they faded away and I came properly to my senses, the agony in my ankle intensified. I drew in a deep breath, waiting for it to subside, but the moment I tried to move it again, I yelped in pain.
Fear crackled down my spine. Oh, dear Lord, what was I to do? I hadn’t noticed any ramblers on that part of the moor, and Sidney didn’t know where I had gone, and even if he did, would he care if I didn’t return? I exhaled sharply. Pull yourself together. Just wait ten minutes, half an hour, and I would probably be able to hobble homewards.
The beautiful wilderness of the moor began to seem savage and hostile, my stomach tightening with nervousness. I kept my eyes averted from the horrible spectacle of the sacrificed sheep. Did such things still go on? Apparently they did. But it was vile and cruel, and I had to get away. I hauled myself upwards and tried to put my weight on my foot. At once, my ankle stung with pain and I thumped down again on my bottom, my eyes filling now with tears of desperation.
‘Hey! Are you all right?’
The disembodied voice coming out of nowhere at first startled me, but then my heart spilt over with relief as a tall figure suddenly appeared from behind me. But I was filled with dismay as I recognised the suspicious stranger from the carnival. Here was I, in the middle of nowhere, with an ankle at best badly sprained, and the only person around was some furtive character who for all I knew might be driven by ill-intent! My brain numbed with terror, but I forced myself to think. I mustn’t let him know I was afraid.
‘I think so,’ I said coolly with a stubborn lift of my chin. ‘Just twisted my ankle a bit. I saw that,’ and I jabbed my head at the dead sheep, ‘and it gave me such a fright, I tripped over.’
I saw the fellow look towards where I had indicated and he jerked back with a sharp intake of breath. He had stiffened, and I was curious as his tanned face seemed to drain of its colour. Jesus, I was sure he muttered under his breath, and then he turned to me, his eyes, an amazing violet-blue, narrowed accusingly.
‘You out here all on your own?’
My heart beat even more furiously, but it was obvious there was no one else around, and it would have made my terror more evident if I had denied it. ‘Yes,’ I answered boldly. ‘But my father knows where I am.’
Father? Huh! Sidney. But none of that mattered now. Sidney had never frightened me, but just now, I was staring up at this tall, broad-shouldered young man absolutely petrified. His face didn’t look quite as gaunt as it had when I had noticed him a few weeks previously, and his shorn hair had grown a little, but he was still painfully thin, so I wondered optimistically if he wasn’t as strong as he looked.
‘Well, that’s not much help, is it? Bloody stupid to come right out here all alone.’
His scornful, abrasive attitude drove away my fear and an acid disdain took its place. ‘You have!’ I snapped back.
He glared down at me, his wide mouth in a hard line. ‘But I’m not a girl, and I know this part of the moor like the back of my hand. And I’m wearing proper walking boots, which if you had any sense, you’d be wearing, too. You should at least keep to the proper tracks if you’re going to wear those things.’
Indignation rumbled deep inside me. My stout lace-ups had served me well enough up until now. I was about to tell him so when he dropped down on his haunches and, without a by-your-leave, pushed up my trouser-leg and turned the top of my sock down as far as it would go over my shoe. His long fingers closed around my ankle and he frowned as his hand moved firmly over my skin. I scowled back, but as he was looking down, concentrating on my foot, I couldn’t help noticing the incredibly long, dark lashes fanning out from his eyelids.
‘I wouldn’t have thought it was broken,’ he pronounced at length.
‘How can you tell?’ I quizzed him warily.
He flashed a look of contempt at me. ‘Let’s just say I’ve had some experience. What you need is to get some ice on it. Where have you come from?’
‘Princetown,’ I told him apprehensively.
He shrugged his eyebrows. ‘At least that’s nearer than Tavvy. But my house is nearer than that. Come back with me and I’ll drive you back to Princetown. Here. I’ll help you up.’
He grasped my hand with one of his and placed the other underneath my upper arm. To my surprise, he didn’t yank me upwards but supported me firmly as I levered myself into a standing position. I mumbled my thanks and the hint of a smile flitted over my face. He didn’t return it, his expression set and those striking eyes looking at me darkly.
‘Right. Try walking on it,’ he ordered.
I did. Nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to be able to walk away from this curt devil, but I winced aloud and found myself grasping at him for support. As I glanced at him, there was no sympathy sketched on his features. If anything, his scowl deepened.
‘This is going to be fun,’ he grunted sardonically.
He put his arm across my back, his hand gripping about my waist. With the greatest reluctance, I laced my own arm around him so that our two flanks were pressed close together. His body was warm and I could feel the hardness of his muscles through his thin shirt. He was bony with not an ounce of flesh, and I wondered vaguely if he’d been ill. Not that I really cared. I might have done if he’d been more amenable.
‘Come on, then,’ he grumbled. And then jerking his head over his shoulder at the dead sheep, he murmured, ‘I’ll see to that later.’
His strong jaw was clenched as I hobbled slowly forward, half hopping and clinging to him tightly. ‘Was it…was it some sort of sacrifice?’ I dared to ask. Despite my abhorrence, I was inquisitive, and it was something to fill the awkward silence. I wished I hadn’t bothered.
‘Of course,’ he barked back. ‘What else do you think it was?’
My self-control was fraying and it was all I could do to stop myself telling him not to be so surly. But he had rescued me, and without him, I’d have been up the creek without a paddle, so to speak, so I decided to bite my tongue.
‘I didn’t think that sort of thing still went on,’ I said instead, thinking of Gloria’s strange words on the day I had met her.
‘It doesn’t. At least, to my knowledge, it hasn’t for donkey’s years. I mean, there are still people playing around. Harmless enough. But sacrifices, well, I thought they’d died out centuries ago. But who knows? It’s supposed to be some sort of fertility rite, or so I believe. And you use dried blood as a garden fertiliser, so it makes sense.’
‘Oh, well, yes, I suppose so,’ I mumbled, not quite sure what he was intimating. But I needed all my wits to limp forward over the uneven terrain – and to check where he was taking me! But he seemed to be leading me in the direction of the main track across the southern moor, which was something. It was late in the season but there could well be holidaymakers walking there and I would feel safer.
We carried on in silence. Progress was frustratingly slow, and I could hardly put my foot to the ground, my other leg aching as it took the strain.
‘I’m sorry, but I need to stop,’ I announced after a while.
He glared down at me, his lips pursed. ‘Look, we’re never going to get anywhere at this rate. It’ll be easier if I give you a piggyback. Come on. Climb aboard.’
He squatted down in front of me and my heart bucked in my chest. This was even more intimate, but what choice did I have? He sidestepped, slightly unbalanced, as he straightened up with my weight on his back, linking his arms through my knees, and I clasped my arms around his neck, trying not to strangle him.
He walked steadily. I could feel the strength of him beneath me, the steel in his arms. So that if he tried anything funny, God knew it would have been impossible to fight back. But though his muscles were like iron, his stamina didn’t match. A damp patch soon appeared on the back of his shirt and he was breathing hard. Several times he had to stop to rest. He stared ahead as he sat on the grass, as if his own thoughts were far away. I didn’t interrupt them. I had enough of my own.
We crossed over the track when we came to it and continued on to the tarmac road that ran from Princetown out to the old mine at Whiteworks and the notorious Foxtor Mire. I had walked out that way before, passing the few isolated buildings that made up Peat Cott clustered in a depression to the eastern side of the road. Further along, I had seen an old high wall, unusual for the area being built of brick rather than stone, but I hadn’t really taken much notice. Rusted wrought-iron gates, once elegant, were wedged open into a weed-encroached gravel drive, and looked as if they hadn’t been moved for decades. Not much was visible from the gates because the drive curved sharply, but from what I could see of the garden, it was overgrown and neglected. A row of dense pine trees, their lower branches dark and intertwining, obliterated the view up the driveway to whatever edifice might be lurking around the corner, and the whole place was grimly forbidding. My heart sank when my taciturn saviour turned in at the gates and came to a halt.
‘You’ll have to hop or whatever from here,’ he said gruffly as he lowered me back onto my feet. ‘I’m sorry. I just can’t carry you another step.’
There was a catch in his voice and he shook his head as if ashamed. But although I didn’t relish his company, I was grateful for what he had done for me.
‘I’m not surprised,’ I told him. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you. Thank you so much.’
‘Let’s get you to the front door. Wait there and I’ll let you in. Save you walking round to the back. I never use the front, so I haven’t got the key with me.’
I nodded, holding onto his arm as we crunched up the gravel. My ankle was feeling a touch easier, but there was no way I could walk on it properly. I stopped in amazement, snatching in my breath, when the house came into view. It was huge and imposing, built in a grand style from dressed stone with a pillared portico over the entrance. I waited while the young man disappeared round the back, and my gaze wandered over the peeling paint on the large casement windows. The place had clearly seen better days.
I heard movement on the inside of the massive double front door, and one side creaked open. The fellow was waiting for me to hop inside and my heart thudded against my ribs. I was in this isolated, apparently empty, house with this tall, strong stranger and no one on earth had a clue where I was.
‘Come into the kitchen and we’ll put some ice on your ankle.’
He held out his hand, his face still stern, and I took it cautiously. We crossed a light, spacious hallway with a beautiful, curved staircase sweeping to the upper floor and a galleried landing. Lovely old wooden doors led to several different rooms and I glanced into a fine dining room with a long, highly polished Regency table. The house echoed eerily with the spirits of the past, I fancied, and I felt happier when I was led into the cosy atmosphere of the kitchen, even though it was a large, cool room with a quarry-tiled floor and white-tiled walls. The biggest range I had ever seen took up the entire end wall, evidence that this household must once have employed servants. Now it seemed to have but one occupant who abandoned me by the enormous old table in the centre of the room and went to open a tall refrigerator next to a double butler sink with long wooden draining-boards. If I hadn’t been so acutely aware of my own vulnerable situation, I would have been intrigued.
I was made to sit down with my bare foot propped up on another kitchen chair while the owner of the house folded a towel around a mound of ice-cubes and packed it around my ankle. At least, I assumed he was the owner, although he seemed somewhat young to possess such a home. I judged him to be in his mid-twenties, although premature lines radiated from the outer corners of his eyes as if he had been squinting into the sun too much. But then he was deeply tanned even if it had faded slightly from when I had first seen him at the carnival, so he must have been staying in warmer climes of late. A man of mystery.
He disappeared into the hall, allowing the door to close behind him. He must have made a phone call as I could hear him talking, quietly at first and then raising his voice in agitation. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but his face was like thunder when he strode back into the kitchen.
‘Nothing they can do, apparently, the police,’ he sighed in exasperation, and then flung himself down into one of the other chairs, long legs stretched out before him. ‘Oh, I suppose they’re right. They can’t be everywhere all the time. And it’s the first report they’ve had of anything like this. And the last, I hope. I’ll go out there tomorrow and check the earmarkings. I should be able to work out who the farmer is. Whoever it is won’t be too pleased, I’m sure.’ He ran his hand hard over his mouth and leapt to his feet. ‘I’ll make us a cup of tea, Carrot Top, and then I’ll run you back to Princetown.’
If I was beginning to feel less anxious, my hackles bristled at the derogatory term which he used so casually, as if I should accept it quite without question. I sucked in my cheeks, my eyes hardening, as I fought to control my temper. I wanted to give him the length of my tongue, but on reflection, I was in no position to do so. Instead, I tersely refused his offer of a drink and asked to be taken home at once.
‘OK,’ he shrugged. ‘I’ll strap your ankle for you first, though. Must be some bandages upstairs somewhere.’
I was left alone again as I heard him take the stairs two at a time. He hadn’t given me a chance to protest and I couldn’t wait to get away from him, but I sensed he was genuine enough. It was just that his manner was so abrupt, and after my almighty row with Sidney and the stunning revelation, well, it was the last thing I needed. And I could never forgive anyone for calling me carrot top or copper knob or any other jibe at my hair.
He was back in minutes, kneeling at my feet without a word. I must say he made an expert job and my ankle felt much better for the support. I thanked him politely but he merely grunted in response.
I tottered on his arm back out through the hallway and was left to wait on the drive while he went back into the house. It was an attractive building, I reflected as I stood there alone, and I reckoned the inside had been beautiful once. It was in a sad state of repair now, though, and I really thought the chap should get off his backside and do something about it.
The vehicle that trundled out from somewhere behind the house was a battered old Army jeep, splattered in mud, canvas roof in place, but with the sides rolled up. It was like something out of a war film set in the desert. I guessed they must have been sold off in their thousands for next to nothing after the war. He drew the jeep up beside me, but didn’t get out to help me in. The image of the young gentleman driving the gleaming car in Tavistock flashed across my brain. Now he would have helped me, I was certain! As it happened, since there was no door, I was able to slide in without too much difficulty and we sat in tense silence while we bumped along the road and back into Princetown. It was draughty and uncomfortable, and as far as I was concerned, we couldn’t arrive quickly enough.
‘Where do you live, then, or are you on holiday?’ came the blunt demand.
‘I live here,’ I answered just as testily. ‘Drop me in the centre and I can manage from there.’
I somehow didn’t want him to see where I lived, and I think he realised. He brought the jeep to a stop but kept the engine running, as if he couldn’t wait for me to get out.
‘As you wish. And remember, Carrots, next time you venture out on the moor, wear some decent footwear.’
I slid out of the seat, barely containing my resentment, and hopped round on the pavement. ‘Don’t you dare call me that!’ I called, wishing there was a door for me to slam.
I saw him blink at me in surprise and then, as he put the vehicle into gear, his eyes lit up roguishly and he laughed before turning his head away to concentrate on the road. A surge of anger darkened my spirit and I clenched my jaw in annoyance. He was mocking me, taking the mickey, and there was nothing more humiliating. I watched, fuming, as he turned the jeep around and drove off without a glance in my direction. I felt like running after him, dragging him out and punching him on the nose.
Although my ankle was throbbing, the whole incident had put me just in the right mood to confront Sidney!