Heaven is High Page 9

  What time was it? Darkness had come down while they had been wandering about, but Kathryn guessed it wasn’t much more than six o’clock. Twelve or fourteen hours ... unless by some miracle the fog lifted before the morning.

  John was bending down, and appeared to be scraping away at something.

  ‘I’ve cleared a space here of the rubble,’ he informed her at length. ‘Give me your hand and I’ll guide you to it; we’ll have the wall to support our backs?— Be careful, there are rocks and boulders everywhere.’ Extending her hand, Kathryn felt it taken in a firm and strangely comforting grip. She was carefully guided to the space he had cleared; gently he pushed her down, then eased himself on to the floor beside her.

  Kathryn leant her back against the wall and, managing to stretch her own legs, she said in some concern,

  ‘Are you comfortable? You can’t stretch out, can you?’

  ‘I’ll manage. We’ll have to sit close,’ he went on matter-of-factly, ‘both owing to the lack of space and in order to keep as warm as possible under the circumstances.’

  ‘Yes ... of course.’ She was still shivering and without more ado John put an arm around her; she was drawn to him, feeling the warmth of his body ... the warmth and the strength. What an odd situation, she mused, wondering what her companion was thinking. There had been so much dissension between them at one time or another, and now here they were, sitting like lovers, with the prospect of spending the whole night alone together in this tiny hut high on the Pennine moors.

  ‘It might clear during the night,’ she submitted hopefully at length, feeling the need for conversation. ‘Sometimes it does—if the breeze gets up, that is.’

  ‘There’s no sign of a breeze. No, Kathryn, we’re here until daylight. Then we should be able to find the car.’

  ‘We couldn’t before,’ she put in fearfully. ‘It wasn’t dark when we first began searching, remember.’ Panic seized her as her mind suddenly darted back to that time last year when the region had been completely cut off from civilization owing to its being blanketed in fog for over a week.

  ‘It was late in the afternoon, though, and we hadn’t much time before the dark eventually did beat us. Tomorrow we’ll have the whole day. Don’t worry, we won’t die up here.’

  ‘I know that,’ she retorted in faint protest. He remained so calm and unruffled, and Kathryn was filled with the desire to impart the impression that she was also accepting their position with the same cool resignation. ‘I was only thinking it could be just as difficult tomorrow as it was today—but, as you’ve said, we do have much more time.’

  She fell to thinking again, her mind flitting from Delia to the servants at the Hall, and then to her own parents and sisters. What would people think? Tentatively she revealed her anxiety, though she did not mention Delia.

  ‘What can they think? This was forced upon us. As for your parents, they won’t ever know—unless you choose to tell them.’

  ‘I’ll have no need to,’ she returned dismally. ‘The report of this fog will be on the news, and when my mother hears it she’s going to be anxious. She’ll keep on ringing the Hall until I’m back.’

  ‘I never thought of that. Pity you rang her this morning.’

  ‘I regret it now,’ she owned with a sigh, ‘but there’s nothing I can do about it. My parents will definitely know of this.’

  He was silent for a moment, and Kathryn sensed the faint lift of his brows as he considered her words.

  ‘Your parents trust you, I presume,’ he remarked, and Kathryn’s reply came swiftly,

  ‘Certainly they trust me.’

  ‘Well then, what are you worrying about? The servants at the Hall don’t matter.’ Kathryn had nothing to say to this and after a moment or two he went on, ‘We might be able to sleep later, but for now—just relax. There’s absolutely nothing we can do, so no amount of fretting is going to help.’

  Kathryn gave a tiny sigh of resignation, deciding that if she must spend the night up on these grim and lonely moors, she would wish for no company more reassuring than that of this cool and unperturbed American.

  CHAPTER V

  She awoke and lay still, conscious of a choking sensation in her throat and a numbness in her feet and ankles. Where—?

  John was beside her. The warmth of him; the way he held her so protectingly. He must have laid her down, clearing another space for her to stretch out. Had he slept? Kathryn lay there, staring up at the hole in the roof; then her eyes travelled to the opening which had once possessed a door of sorts. She could only just discern the aperture, for the fog was as dense inside as out.

  ‘John—’ she almost shouted, unaware of her slip. ‘It hasn’t cleared—not one little bit!’

  ‘Give it time, child—’

  ‘But it’s light!’ She sat up, feeling the sudden chill at the loss of his body warmth. ‘Supposing we can’t find the car and—and we have to stay another night.’

  John sat up, then stood up; he stretched himself, then began moving his arms as if to release some ache from his muscles.

  ‘We’ll find the car all right.’ He reached down and, quite naturally, Kathryn put her hand in his and dragged herself to her feet. ‘What’s the matter?’ he inquired anxiously as she seemed to totter as if ready to fall.

  ‘My ankles—they do hurt.’

  John made her sit down again; he took off her shoes and began vigorously to massage her ankles.

  ‘Better?’ His tones were the familiar lazy drawl, but the depth of their anxiety could not be missed. How anxious he was ... and how gentle his hands, despite their strength. Kathryn’s heart fluttered oddly and she wondered if she would ever feel quite the same after this adventure.

  ‘Yes, thank you—much better.’

  ‘Lack of circulation. I did try to keep you as warm as I could, but you would pull your knees up and your feet were away from me. Do you always sleep curled up in a ball like that?’ he added with some amusement, and Kathryn felt the colour come swiftly to her face.

  ‘I expect I do, yes,’ she murmured, very sure now that she would never feel quite the same.

  ‘I think we’d better stay by the hut for a while,’ John said as Kathryn waited uncertainly for him to suggest they move, and make some effort to find the road, even though the fog was still as dense as ever. ‘Should it not lift, and we’re forced to spend another night up here, at least we’ll have some sort of shelter. If we leave the hut in this thick fog we’ll never find it again.’

  ‘Oh, but surely it will clear,’ she cried, thinking of her parents, who were probably even now filled with deep anxiety as to her safety. ‘Can’t we just walk about—trying to find the road? It’ll be better than doing nothing.’

  He shook his head.

  ‘If we leave the hut we’ll never find it again,’ he repeated. ‘We’ll walk about, by all means, if only to keep warm, but we mustn’t stray far from here until this fog clears a little—until, in fact, we can be quite sure we’re not going to need the hut again.’

  Kathryn swallowed hard, but said nothing, and after a while he asked if she were hungry.

  ‘I am, rather,’ she admitted, ‘and I’d give anything for a drink. The fog gets in your throat. You must be feeling it, too?’

  ‘It is rather uncomfortable,’ he owned, ‘but for the time being at any rate, it’s bearable.’

  They walked about for over an hour, keeping the dim blur of the hut in view; when there was still no sign of the fog lifting John said something more positive must be done. He sounded faintly troubled, and Kathryn wondered if this were the reason for the sharpness of his voice when he spoke,

  ‘You’ll stay by the hut,’ he said, ‘while I go and see if I can find the road. We’ll keep calling to one another; in this way there’ll be no danger of our losing sight of the hut.’

  He went off; Kathryn had never felt so alone, so completely isolated from all living things. He’d never find the road, she thought, although he did seem confident that it
was not so very far away. Kathryn herself could not distinctly remember how long they had been walking before they came to the hut. They were chatting all the time and she had to admit to herself that she had been far more interested in her companion than her surroundings.

  She heard him call and she answered. From then on his voice reached her at intervals, becoming less distinct all the time. Then she would hear it from a different direction, coming nearer. This went on for what seemed eternity and then, to her indescribable relief, she was instructed to leave the hut and go to him.

  She ran, calling now and then, and stumbling at times, so great her haste to get through this fog and into the company of another human being. As she drew nearer another sound reached her ears. John was running the engine in order to get the heater operating.

  ‘Oh, John—Mr. Hyland,’ she gasped, reaching him at last. ‘The car—I never thought you’d find it!’

  If he noticed her slip he chose to ignore it as, opening the car door, he put a hand under her elbow and gently urged her inside. Then he was sitting in the driver’s seat and the doors were closed.

  ‘Warmer now?’ He was regulating the heat and she felt it directed on to her feet and legs.

  ‘Yes, thanks. That’s wonderful—oh, it’s dreadful to be so cold!’

  ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t quicker—it must have seemed a long time to you, standing around. But in actual fact it’s only just after eleven now.’

  ‘You can’t drive in this,’ Kathryn peered through the fog to discover if the road were in any way visible. ‘No, you can’t see at all.’

  ‘It might lift. We’ll give it another hour and then we’re going to abandon the idea of using the car, and start walking. However, for the time being; we’re comfortable, and warm. Also—’ he leant across her and opened the glove compartment, ‘we have something to eat.’

  ‘Food!’ she exclaimed, as if she hadn’t eaten for days. ‘Oh, what?’

  ‘Chocolate—a whole big bar of it. Here, help yourself.’ He put it on her lap and, taking off part of the wrapping, Kathryn offered the chocolate to him.

  ‘Thanks.’ He helped himself and for a while they sat in silence, eating, and appreciating the warmth after the icy dampness of the crude lodging in which they had spent the night. ‘Am I imagining things,’ he asked suddenly, ‘or is this fog beginning to lift?’

  ‘I believe it is,’ she returned breathlessly. ‘Yes, look at it swirling; there’s a breeze coming up.’

  Five minutes later they were travelling along at snail’s pace, John straining to keep the line of the verge in view. Several times Kathryn had to get out of the car and guide him. Time was passing far too quickly and darkness had begun to descend when at last they reached the road leading into Macclesfield.

  ‘Just look at the lights,’ Kathryn exclaimed. ‘There’s no fog at all down there!’

  ‘No, it’s only on the moors, apparently.’

  It was almost seven o’clock when at last they drove up to the front door of the Hall. It was opened instantly by Burrows, whose weatherbeaten face was clouded with anxiety.

  ‘Mr. Hyland—Miss Ramsey—’ He broke off, staring rather incredulously from John to Kathryn. They both looked much the worse for their experience, their faces being grimy from the fog, and their clothes, damp even before they’d slept in them, were creased and far from clean. John’s suede shoes were stained and covered with a film of dust resulting from his efforts to clear part of the floor of the hut. Kathryn’s shoes were even worse, for she had managed to stumble into a bog when running to the car. ‘We were all so worried about you,’ Burrows went on with admirable recovery.

  ‘Thank you, Burrows, but you needn’t have been. As you see, we’re quite safe.’ Despite his appearance John still retained his air of cool assurance. ‘You know about the fog, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Burrows closed the door before saying, hesitantly, ‘You were trapped on the moors, sir?’

  ‘We were—and very uncomfortable it was,’ he remarked. ‘I’m going up for a bath now. Put me some clean clothes out, will you?’

  ‘Yes, sir—er...’

  ‘Well?’ Already on his way to the stairs, John turned abruptly, his brows raised in inquiry.

  ‘Miss Slade—she heard about the fog on the radio and rang last night. She rang again very late—about midnight. Then she’s rung several times today. She said if you came in I must remind you you’re dining with her and her parents tonight.’

  Kathryn watched John’s expression, but it remained noncommittal as he said, ‘Thank you for the message, Burrows.’ With that he strode briskly away and Burrows turned to Kathryn.

  ‘Your mother, Miss Ramsey—she’s been phoning as well. She’s very anxious indeed about you, and it was all I could do to prevent her from getting in touch with the police. But I knew neither you nor Mr. Hyland would like that sort of publicity.’

  ‘Publicity?’ For no apparent reason Kathryn’s heartbeats quickened. ‘What do you mean, Burrows?’

  ‘Well, if the police had been called out to search for you—’ He reddened and hesitated for a moment. ‘It would have been in all the newspapers, wouldn’t it?—on account of Mr. Hyland being who he is.’

  ‘I see...’ Regarding Burrows’ face intently, Kathryn had no difficulty in reading his thoughts. ‘I’ll ring my mother at once,’ was all she said, and went up to her room.

  The telephone was by the bed and, picking up the receiver, Kathryn dialled the number.

  Her sister Dawn answered the phone.

  ‘Kathryn! Thank heaven you’re safe! What happened? Mum’s on her way over to the Hall—’

  ‘On her way here? What for?’

  ‘The lord knows. I told her she couldn’t do anything, but you know Mum—she’s always worrying about something or someone. She’s been on tenterhooks ever since she heard about the fog on the news, and she would keep phoning the Hall all the time. Then about half an hour ago she jumped up and said she couldn’t sit here doing nothing, so she made Dad drive her over. ‘A small pause and then, ‘They should be there now—or they will be in a minute or two.’

  Kathryn heaved a deep sigh.

  ‘I wish I hadn’t let her know I was going. She’s been really worried, then?’

  ‘Dreadfully.’ A little silence followed and Kathryn had the impression that Dawn was carefully choosing her words. ‘It was your being out with your boss that seemed to be half her trouble...’ There was a certain suggestiveness in her sister’s tone which had the effect of making Kathryn bristle, and for this reason she remained silent, forcing Dawn to continue. ‘What exactly happened? Did you have to stay at an inn, or something?’

  Kathryn sat down on the bed; she held the receiver away from her and there was a moment of indecision as she stared at it, debating on whether or not to lie. However, she knew she could not do so convincingly; moreover, she would never lie to her parents, so there was nothing to be gained by withholding the truth from her sister.

  ‘No, Dawn, we were trapped up on the moors—miles away from anywhere.’

  ‘Trapped. ... You mean, you were up there all night—with that handsome American? Where did you sleep?—out in the open?’

  Kathryn’s mouth compressed, for there was no mistaking the implication in her sister’s words.

  ‘We found a disused hut.’

  ‘That was fortunate. And you slept there—just the two of you?’

  ‘We slept there—just the two of us,’ replied Kathryn with a sort of acid resignation.

  ‘Coo...! You lucky thing, Kate—’

  ‘I didn’t consider myself lucky,’ she snapped, almost ready to cut her sister off. ‘It was an awful position to be in.’

  ‘Only because you’re so staid,’ Dawn scoffed. ‘Most girls would have liked it enormously—and have taken advantage of it,’ she added, a soft and subtle significance entering into her tone. ‘Didn’t you even let him kiss you?—or perhaps he didn’t give you a choice? Did he try anything else?
But he must have, they all do—’ Kathryn’s hand was trembling; softly she replaced the receiver, but made no immediate move to take her bath. A glance across to the mirror revealed the paleness of her face. Dawn would even now be imparting the news to Rita; they would be discussing it and considering it a huge joke that their ‘old-fashioned’ sister had found herself in such a predicament. And it would be a good topic of conversation when they met their friends later this evening. In fact, Kathryn reflected dismally, the incident would very soon be public gossip ‘on account of Mr. Hyland being who he is’ as Burrows had so transparently put it.

  And what of her parents, especially her mother? She hated gossip, and would quite literally hang her head in shame at the idea of Kathryn’s name being bandied about in this way.

  Still, there was nothing to be done about it and at last Kathryn rose and went out of the room. Her parents would be here any moment now, Dawn had said, but Kathryn was determined they should not see her in this state and she hurried along the corridor to the bathroom. She had just reached it when Burrows came up the stairs.

  ‘Miss Slade on the phone, Miss Ramsey,’ he said. ‘I told her Mr. Hyland wasn’t available just now and she asked to speak to you.’

  Delia was the last person to whom Kathryn wanted to speak, but Burrows was expecting her to answer the phone and with a sigh of resignation she said,

  ‘Thank you, Burrows. I’ll take the call in my room.’

  ‘So you’re back?’ Delia’s voice was almost invidious in its softness. ‘Burrows is the soul of discretion and closed up like a clam when I asked him what had happened. Obviously the fog prevented your returning last night, but what did you do? Did you stay the night in a hotel somewhere?’ Still the softness in her tones, but an insistence also—an insistence on knowing all there was to know. The inquiry, coming so soon after her sister’s subtle implications, was almost more than Kathryn could stand and she wished fervently that she had refused to speak to Delia. How must she answer? Of a certainty John would not want Delia to learn the truth ... and yet Kathryn felt convinced the truth could not be suppressed, not in a small country village like Marbeck. In any case, even though Burrows would obviously practise tact, this wouldn’t be the case with Emily and Edna. They would without doubt relish the spreading of this little tit-bit of gossip among the villagers.