Текст книги "Gossamer Cord"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

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Here was triumph indeed. I could scarcely believe I was hearing correctly.

“Yes,” I said. “That was a great tragedy.”

“Brings it back,” she said. “This new wife…”

“It would, of course,” I said encouragingly.

She looked at me intently. “You want to be careful of her…that sister of yours. There was something fishy…”

“Oh?” I said, daring to say no more for fear of stopping this much-desired and unexpected turn of the conversation.

“Well,” she went on, “after that other one…”

“Which other one?”

“People here are full of fancies. It was a long time ago. It was the same time of year. That old story. Have you heard the talk about those two families quarreling, and the girl going into the sea and not coming back?”

“Yes, I have heard of it. And you mean your daughter…?”

“She went swimming. People said there was something that made her go then. They found her body. She wouldn’t have gone swimming. Hadn’t she been told not to?”

I was a little lost but afraid to stop the flow. I said tentatively: “Do you feel there was some connection between your daughter’s death and that girl long ago?”

“It was drowning for both of them. Happen that’s what got people talking. Two drowned, you see.”

“It may be that several people have been drowned off this coast.”

“Happen. But then these two were connected with the house. You know what these people here are like? They say some spirit beckoned her into the sea. It’s a lot of rot. But that’s what they say…and there were the two of them.”

“The girl in the legend killed herself because she was not allowed to marry the man she loved.”

“That’s the tale. My Annette would never have killed herself. She wanted that baby, she did. How could she have gone swimming of her own accord when she knew it was dangerous for the child? That’s what I’d like to know.”

“Then how…?”

“Who can say? All I know is that I don’t believe she would have risked that baby’s life. I wasn’t pleased about what happened. I never wanted her to do that sort of work. She liked it, though. She’d never been what you’d call a quiet, good girl. There was always men about her. She liked that. She was one to go her own way. Wouldn’t listen to advice.”

“She was very pretty,” I said.

“That’s what they all said. Turned her head a bit. I never thought a daughter of mine…”

She stopped and stared ahead of her. I could imagine the upbringing. There would have been few demonstrations of affection from her mother. I wondered what her father was like. I could imagine him—grim, dour as his wife, working hard, getting his compensation when he was unable to work any more, coming to the Cornish coast which the doctor had said would be better for his health than the harsher climate of the North.

Annette may have looked elsewhere for expressions of affection, for laughter and gaiety. I wondered if she had found what she sought with Dermot.

I could scarcely believe that Mrs. Pardell, who had been so reticent, should now be talking to me thus. I imagined it was because I was the sister of Dermot’s second wife, who had replaced her daughter. Perhaps it was something to do with the fact that she was going to have a child. The position was similar. Annette had been going to have a child, too.

It suddenly occurred to me that she might feel it was her duty to warn me in some way. Mrs. Pardell was a woman who would do her duty, however she might wish not to.

She leaned toward me suddenly and said: “I don’t believe she went swimming of her own accord that day.”

“What?” I said, taken aback.

“She wouldn’t have done. I can’t tell you how much she wanted that child. It changed her. Mind you, we hadn’t been on the best of terms because of what she’d been up to. But she wouldn’t have gone. She knew it was putting the child in danger. I don’t because she would never have done that…and nobody could make me believe it.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I expect you know something about it. It gets round. It’s the sort of thing people talk about. You know she was working there at the Sailor’s Rest. There she was, every night, laughing and joking. They were pleased to have her. She brought the customers in. I used to lie in bed waiting for her to come home every night. I said, ‘I’d rather see you cleaning someone’s house than doing that sort of job.’ It wasn’t a lady’s job and we’d tried to bring her up right.”

“I understand,” I said soothingly.

“There’s no need for me to tell you. I expect you know already how these people talk. That young man and his new wife has brought it all up again. When he married for the second time everyone was talking about Annette. With her, it was a case of having to get married. I don’t think he would have asked her otherwise and she’d still be there at the Sailor’s Rest. She might have married that young farmer at Perringarth on the moor. He was mad about her. But there it was. That Dermot Tregarland had to do the right thing by her. He seemed a decent young fellow then, but you can imagine what it was like up at Tregarland’s.”

She paused for a while before she went on slowly: “You might wonder why I’m telling you all this. It’s not like me to talk of it, but I’m thinking of your sister. I think you ought to look out for her.”

“Look out for her? In what way?”

“I don’t rightly know. It happened to my girl. It was about this time of the year…”

“I don’t see the connection.”

“Well, I just thought…you see…Annette and me…we wasn’t on speaking terms for a long time. When I heard she was going to have a baby and no wedding ring, I was flabbergasted. I told her her father would have turned her out. She laughed at that. Annette laughed at everything. She was never a good girl, always wayward, but…”

“I think she sounds rather lovable.”

Mrs. Pardell nodded her head without speaking. Then she went on: “When she got married and went to the big house, there was a lot of talk. I was in a way proud of her. He must have thought a lot of her, because there was his father up there, and I know he wouldn’t have liked it…her being a barmaid. She came to see me once or twice. There was one time…I knew it would be the last for some time because she wouldn’t be able to do that walk till after the baby was born. She had her car and she drove into Poldown, but she’d have to do the climb up the west cliff on foot. I am glad I saw her three days before she died. After all, she wasn’t the first one by a long chalk who had had to get wed in a bit of a hurry. She was happy enough. Dermot was a good husband and she could make him go her way. She said to me: ‘I can’t wait for this baby to come.’ She’d talk frankly about it, which I can’t say I liked very much. Sort of immodest, but Annette was like that. She said: ‘I can’t do anything now, Mam. It’s no good fretting about that. I can’t go swimming.’ I said: ‘Of course you can’t, you silly girl, in your state.’ ”

She sighed and I, amazed by this flow of confidence, just sat back quietly, fearing that at any moment it might stop.

“She’d always loved the water. I remember when we first went to the seaside. She was about eight years old then. I took her down to the seaside. She held up her hand…wonderstruck like…and ran right into the sea. After that it was swimming at school. She took to it like a fish. Regular champion she was. Won prizes. I could show you.”

“I should like to see them some time.”

“ ‘Well,’ she said to me: ‘It’s awful, Mam. I can’t swim. The doctor said no…some time back. It could hurt the baby.’ ‘Well, who’d want to swim in your state?’ I said. ‘I’d like to, but I wouldn’t do a thing to harm this baby. Mam, I’ve never wanted anything more. I’m going to love that baby like no baby was ever loved before.’ That’s what she said.”

She looked at me, her eyes blazing.

“Are you going to tell me that she went swimming on that early morning?” she demanded.

“But…she was in the water…the cross-currents…”

“Cross-currents, my foot. She could have swum in the roughest sea, that one. But she didn’t go in that morning. You’re not going to tell me she went in of her own accord.”

“Are you suggesting that she was lured in…by some spirit…of that girl who died long ago?”

“That’s what people here said at the time. But I don’t hold with all that nonsense.”

“Then what do you think happened?”

“I don’t know. But you’ve got a sister up there. She’s going to have a baby. They say there’s some curse put on Tregarland’s by them Jermyns. It’s all nonsense, but…Well, you look after that sister of yours. You wouldn’t want what happened to my girl to happen to her.”

She sat back in her chair, looking into her cup where the tea had grown cold. She looked exhausted.

She was like another person. The hard shrewdness was just a veneer. She was a woman mourning a daughter whom she had loved and lost.

I said: “I am sorry…”

She looked at me searchingly. “You really mean that, don’t you?” she said.

“Yes, I do.”

She nodded and we were silent again. I knew it was time for me to go.

I stood up and said: “If you will let me know what cuttings you would like, I am sure there would be no difficulty in getting them.”

She gave me a rare smile. I felt glad that she was not regretting her confidences. In fact, I had a notion that she felt better for talking to me.

It was almost as though we were friends.

When I left the cottage I felt bemused. She had so convinced me that Annette could not have gone swimming of her own accord. When? How? On those wild cliffs one could almost believe there was some foundation in the legends which abounded here.

I walked thoughtfully down the west cliff and into Poldown. I crossed the old bridge to the east side and made my way toward the sea.

On impulse, I decided I would go back right along the shore rather than take the cliff road. I set out, my thoughts still with Annette. I could picture her clearly, for the photograph told me a good deal. She was a girl who loved pleasure, and she was determined to get the most out of life; she was very attractive to the opposite sex and well aware of it. She was impulsive, living in the present; she was everything that her mother had taught her not to be.

A slight breeze was blowing in from the sea. I walked close to the frilly-edged waves and listened to their murmur.

A young couple with a small boy, carrying bucket and spade, came along. Holiday makers, I thought. We exchanged smiles as we passed.

Deep in thought, I went on. I came to a barrier of rock which went out into the sea. I scrambled over it and found that I was in a kind of cove. There was another rock barrier which shut it in. The high cliff protruding over it made it look rather cosy, shut in by the rocks on either side as it was.

I decided to sit down for a while and to go over my conversation with Mrs. Pardell. I settled with my back to the cliff, thinking how strange it was that she had suddenly begun to talk to me. I congratulated myself afresh as to the cleverness of my approach. Perhaps I had caught her at a moment when she felt the need to confide in someone. Poor Mrs. Pardell! How very sad to lose the daughter for whom, in spite of her disapproval, she had cared deeply.

I wondered what life had been like in that cottage when Annette became a barmaid at the Sailor’s Rest. I imagined her admirers, Dermot among them. He was perhaps rather susceptible. He had almost immediately fallen in love with Dorabella. It might have been the same with Annette. I could imagine the quick romance, the consequences, and when she knew she was going to have a baby, he was brave enough to fight the family opposition and marry her.

And then…she died.

I stared out to sea watching the waves advance and recede.

What had Mrs. Pardell said about Dorabella? She had warned me. Did she think that some supernatural being was going to lure Dorabella into the sea? She was a practical woman, priding herself on her down-to-earth approach to life, and her good Northern common sense would not allow her to believe that what had happened was what it seemed. And she had told me this because she had thought I needed to know.

The answer must be that Annette had believed she would be safe swimming because it was something she had always done expertly. It might be that she had been overcome by cramp. That was possible. There must be a simple, logical reason why she was drowned that morning.

It was time to go. I was not sure how long I had been sitting there, so completely absorbed had I been in my thoughts.

I rose and went to the barrier rock. I was about to scramble over when, to my dismay, I realized that while I had been sitting there, the tide had come right in. I had failed to notice that the cove was on much higher ground than the beach on either side of the rocks, and if I stepped over them I should be waist high in water.

I looked about me and saw that the sea had crept well into the cove itself while I had been sitting there. I must have been there for nearly half an hour.

I ran to the other side. The sea was splashing about the rocks. It had come in a considerable distance; and even in the cove now there was only a narrowing strip of dry sand.

I was panic-stricken. What could I do? I could not make my way along the beach. The tide was coming in rapidly. In a short time the cove would fill. I was not a good swimmer.

I looked up at the overhanging cliff. I could not climb that. It was unscalable. There were a few clumps of valerian to cling to, but how strong were they? And in any case they were too few and far between.

What a fool I had been! While I had been complimenting myself on my cleverness in extracting so much from Mrs. Pardell, I had stupidly walked into this trap.

I looked about me in dismay. The implacable sea was creeping in slowly but very surely. For some seconds I stood helpless…not knowing what to do. How long, I wondered, before the sea filled the cove? How long could I survive? Could I attempt to scale the cliff? I knew it would be impossible. I was going to be drowned like the lovelorn maiden of the legend and Annette. Could there possibly be some curse…?

I was getting hysterical. I must not do that. I had been foolish and brought this on myself. Oh, why had I made that foolish decision to forsake the cliff path for the beach? I was to blame. This was no mythical revenge.

But what was I to do?

The sea was creeping nearer. Soon it would be rushing into the cove. I must do something, but what? I was completely unprepared for such a situation—helpless, ignorant.

Then my heart seemed to stop beating, for I heard a voice.

“Hello…there!”

Relief swept over me. It was a voice I knew—that of Gordon Lewyth.

I gazed upwards. He was standing looking down on me from the cliff path.

He put his hands to his mouth and shouted: “What are you doing down there?”

“I seem…to be cut off by the tide,” I shouted back.

“You can’t stay there.” There was a moment’s silence. Then he cried: “The cove will be flooded in ten minutes.”

“What?” I cried.

He was gone.

I was filled with fear. Why had he disappeared? Why didn’t he try to help? He had gone and left me to my fate.

Panic rose in me. What did it mean? I remembered how he had followed me when I had paid another visit to Mrs. Pardell. He had watched me come out of her house. I recalled the uncanny feeling I had experienced when he had stood close to me near that fragile fence. He knew I was here and he had gone away and left me.

What could it mean? Why did I have this feeling about Gordon Lewyth? Was it some premonition? I was rambling on in my panic-stricken mind. What did it matter what his motives were now? I was here and he had left me to my fate.

“Violetta!” It was a shout to the right of me. I turned sharply.

He was on the cliff, more than halfway down, holding on to a piece of rock which projected slightly.

The relief was almost unbearable. He had not deserted me.

“Get hold of the rocks on the side there,” he shouted. “See if you can scramble up a little.”

Panting, I managed to take a few faltering steps upwards. Cautiously he descended a foot or two. He was coming close. He leaned down and stretched out his hand.

“Can you take my hand?” he asked.

I tried and failed.

“I’m coming down a little,” he said. “Look out. It’s tricky.”

Very slowly he descended a few feet. Our fingers almost touched.

“Just a minute,” he said. “I have to get a grip here. Now…”

He had grasped my hand and I almost cried out with relief.

He said: “You’ve got to try and edge your way up. There’s a ledge along here…just a few inches more.”

His grasp seemed to be crushing my fingers, but I rejoiced in it.

“Come on. Be careful. Make sure your foot is firm before you lift the other.”

I edged toward him.

“Now…watch it,” he cried.

I was on a level with him.

“Just let me lead,” he said. “Hold on to my coat. I need both hands. And for God’s sake, don’t let go.”

Slowly and very cautiously we moved upwards. The rocks were damp with seaspray and slippery.

“Hold tight,” he cautioned, and I clung to his coat with all my might.

It seemed a long time before we reached that spot where the rock had formed itself into a ledge which was like a narrow seat. It was just a freak in the formation. The rock must have been broken away there, and on the resulting ledge four or five people could have sat huddled together.

It was not very wide, but we were able to sit on it, not with any great comfort, it was true, but it was a haven of rest for me.

“Now, your hand,” he was saying. “Be careful. It’s safe to sit here but watch out all the time. It might have been cut out of the rocks for this purpose. Phew, what a climb!”

I felt my voice tremble. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “We can’t climb up. Look at that rock.”

“You climbed down.”

“I know. It’s tricky. But I know these cliffs well. It’s not the first time I’ve been down here. When I was a boy there was a group of us. We used to dare each other to take risks. You don’t know fear when you’re young. I must have been ten at the time. I got right down and sat on this ledge.”

“I am so grateful to you.”

“You wouldn’t have stood much chance down there, you know. The tide comes slowly into the cove at first and then with a rush. It’s due to the formation of the cove. Are you all right?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“It’s safe enough but it doesn’t allow for wriggling. You must keep alert. The least jerk and you could go hurtling down.”

“I realize that.”

I noticed that his thick dark hair was damp with spray and exertion.

“I think,” he said, “it would be safer if you held my arm.”

“Thank you. I’d feel safer, too.”

“What a boon this place is! Look down there and see the way you came up.”

“I didn’t think I should be able to. It looked so hopeless.”

“You were lucky to be at that particular spot. There is just one place where it can be possible. I discovered it long ago. Not that it was easy. You could have fallen and that would have been fatal. I had done it once or twice and that stood me in good stead.”

We were silent for a while, watching the tide slowly creeping in.

“It’s nearly high now,” he said. “Then it will start receding. When it has a little, we can pass along the shore. Then we have the job of getting down. It might be easier than coming up, but we shall have to be very careful.”

“I understand. I just don’t know how to thank you.”

“I’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve said that.”

“I shall be saying it again, and so will my parents and Dorabella when they hear.”

“We’re not yet safe and dry.”

“I feel sure we shall be now.”

“That’s the spirit. It’s no use undertaking things expecting failure. You have been to Mrs. Pardell’s again.”

“How did you know?”

“I saw you leave.”

“Oh…you did last time.”

“Yes,” he said. “I was not far behind you going down into the town. Then I lost sight of you. I had some business to do there which detained me for a time and then, coming along the cliff road, I looked down and saw you.”

“It was idiotic of me.”

“It was…very reckless. Didn’t you know the tide was coming in fast? It is especially high just now.”

“I never thought of it.”

“It is wise to remember such things where the sea is concerned. It can be very dangerous, you know.”

“I do know that now. If you hadn’t come along then, I could have drowned. What can I say…?”

“We’re coming dangerously near to that old theme,” he said.

We laughed and it occurred to me that I had not heard him laugh before.

I was wondering about him. He had been so capable, so knowledgeable. He had nobly come to my aid and nothing would convince me that he had not risked his life in doing so. It was not what I would have expected from him.

We sat silently side by side for a few moments. I felt slightly chilled, in spite of the fact that it was a warm day. Perhaps it was emotion which made me want to shiver. After all, I had come close to death.

Death by drowning, I thought, like those others before me.

“We shall have to wait a bit for the tide to recede sufficiently to enable us to get along the beach,” he was saying. “Then, the descent. I wouldn’t want to risk your life trying to climb up to the cliff road. There’ll only be a narrow strip along the beach.”

I nodded, glad that he was in charge.

“We’ll make it all right. It’s the descent that will be tricky. Did you have a rewarding session with Mrs. Pardell?”

I was a little startled. “Rewarding?” I repeated.

“Well, I think you wanted to talk to her, didn’t you? The flower was a success, I believe, and she was grateful.”

“She was rather pleased.”

“And in return?”

“There was no question of reward.”

“I think you are rather interested in her.”

“Well, perhaps, in view of the family connection. What sort of girl was Annette? You must have known her.”

“She was rather…er…unsuitable. We were all astonished when Dermot married her.”

“In spite of…?”

“In spite of the circumstances? Particularly so, as it might not have been his responsibility.”

“He must have thought it was.”

“I imagine she was persuasive, and Dermot is somewhat impressionable.”

“She must have been very worried.”

“I daresay. Women usually are in such circumstances. Well, they married and a few months later she was foolish enough to go into the water in spite of her condition, and the fact that she had been warned against doing so.”

“People do foolish things sometimes.”

He looked at me and I saw the hint of a smile on his lips. He was surprising me very much. Now that I felt safe, I was beginning to find the adventure exhilarating. I refused to think of the climb down to the cove which had to come, for I was certain that, under his direction, it would be safely accomplished.

“Dermot must have cared for her,” I said.

“My mother did everything possible to make her comfortable. She was so good to her. She looked after her and helped her in every way.”

“And Mr. Tregarland?”

“You mean the old man…?”

“He’s not really so very old, is he?”

“He must be in his sixties. He married late, in his forties, I think. He has only become infirm during the last few years. His gout cripples him. One never really knows what he is thinking. I once knew a boy who liked putting spiders into a bowl from which they could not escape. He used to watch them for hours seeing what, captured as they were, they would do to each other. He reminds me of that boy, because it is as though he is watching us all in the same way.”

“I understand what you mean,” I said. “That is exactly how it seems to me. One gets the feeling he is watching everyone…in a rather mischievous way.”

“He has always been very good to my mother and me. It is many years ago that we came to Tregarland’s. I remember the time before that only vaguely. And suddenly we were at Tregarland’s…and we have been there ever since.”

“It is a wonderful old place.”

“It is.”

“And you are very interested in the estate.”

“Yes, but…” He did not continue, but stared out to sea. Then he said: “I think the tide is turning now.”

“They will be wondering where I am.”

“I’m afraid they will. Was your sister expecting you back?”

“I am usually with her when she has had her rest.”

“I hope she doesn’t get too anxious. Yes. I am sure it is on the turn.”

“How long do you think before we can attempt the journey down?”

“I am not quite sure. Some little time yet. I want to make certain that it is safe before we do so. It isn’t very comfortable sitting here, I’m afraid.”

“I am sure being submerged in the cove would have been far more uncomfortable. If you had not come along…”

“Shush,” he said.

“I was just going to say what a happy coincidence for me.”

We were silent for a while, then I said: “Tell me about your coming to Tregarland’s all those years ago.”

He paused and I had the impression that he was thinking he had said too much already. He was, I guessed, by nature reticent.

However, he went on: “It’s all rather vague to me. We were in a little house near dockland. When we arrived at Tregarland’s it was as though some genii had transplanted us to a castle. My mother told me that Mr. Tregarland was a distant connection. I’ve never found out what that connection was. I think it must be very remote. Anyway, Mr. Tregarland’s wife had died. There was a son, slightly younger than I, and she was going to keep house there. She was not to be treated quite like a housekeeper and she could take me with her to be brought up there. It seemed like an excellent arrangement for us at least, and I am sure for Mr. Tregarland. My mother is one of the most capable people I have ever known. Life became luxurious suddenly.”

“And has been ever since?”

“Well, people soon get used to comfort, particularly children.”

“And you have made the estate your mission in life.”

“I have worked hard at it.”

“And Dermot?”

“He is inclined to take everything for granted. The place will be his in due course.”

“But you will always be there.”

He did not answer for a moment. Then he said, as though talking to himself: “A place of one’s own could make one very contented. To stand in the fields and say, ‘This is mine.’ Do you see what I mean?”

“I do.”

“I am very interested in Tregarland’s. Proud of it, you might say, but…”

“My father, who knows a great deal about these things, says you manage it excellently.”

He looked pleased.

“He has his own estate.”

“Yes, it has been handed down from generation to generation, as I suppose Tregarland’s has. I have a brother, Robert, who is being trained to take over one day.”

“And Tregarland’s will go to Dermot and his sons.”

“But Dermot does not feel about it as you do.”

“No, but it will be his.” There was the faintest trace of bitterness in his voice.

“But you will always be there. How could they manage without you?”

“Oh, Dermot could find a manager.”

“And you?”

“I cannot say.”

“What you really want is a place of your own.”

“Yes, that is what I want.”

“Do you think…?”

“I shall ever have it? To use a well-worn phrase, that is in the lap of the gods.”

“You told me a little time ago that when something is important to you…like climbing the cliff…you are determined to do it. That must apply to wanting your own place. So you must not think of failure.”

He turned to me and I saw that smile again.

“I tell you this,” he said, and his jaw was firm. “I am going to do everything I can to get it.”

“I shall wish you luck—although at the same time I can see it would be a bitter blow for Tregarland’s.”

After that we fell silent and neither of us seemed eager to break it.

I watched the waves. I could see the cove from where I sat. The sea was gradually receding. It would soon be time to do the difficult descent.

The way down was hazardous. It took time and great care. Gordon Lewyth went ahead of me. Sometimes he held my hand, at others he made me cling to his coat.

I was full of thankfulness for his fortuitous appearance and admiration for the manner in which, through his childhood memories of the rocks, he had brought us to safety.

Eventually we stood side by side in the cove. It was wet and soggy and the sea was very close. A great joy swept over me. It was so good to be alive.

We looked at each other and, in those seconds, I thought he was going to kiss me, for he swayed toward me and then moved back.

I said tremulously: “I know I’m supposed not to, but I am going to say thank you. I have rarely felt so grateful to anyone in the whole of my life.”

He looked embarrassed.

“Come on,” he said. “We shall be very late. We’ll have to pick our way carefully across the sand. It will be slippery as the tide has just gone out. Mind the rocks.”

“I will,” I said, and we walked side by side along the beach.

There was a great deal of fuss when we reached the house. I had been expected back three hours earlier. They were all in the hall—Dorabella, Dermot, Matilda, and the old man. I could not fail to see the excitement in the latter’s eyes.

Dorabella came to me and hugged me while she scolded.

“Where have you been? We’ve been frantic.”

I explained while Gordon said nothing.

“He was absolutely wonderful,” I finished. “I could never have climbed the cliff alone.”

I saw Matilda’s lips twitch as she regarded her son with pride.

“I am so glad…so glad,” she said.

“Whatever made you walk along the beach?” demanded Dorabella. She had been really scared and wanted to go on blaming me.

“It was silly, but I didn’t think…”

“Well, you are back now,” said Matilda. “Both of you must be exhausted…and chilled.”

“I’m hot now actually,” I said.

“Nevertheless, I think you need a good strong drink. Brandy, don’t you think, Gordon?”

Gordon thought it would be a good idea.

I was briefly reminded of that other occasion when I had taken brandy with Jowan Jermyn in Smithy’s.

They all sat round while we drank, and I described exactly what had happened. Gordon had lapsed into his habitual reticent manner while I did the talking. Dorabella sat close to me, and every now and then she would touch my arm as though to reassure herself that I was still there. I found that very endearing.

I repeated how wonderful Gordon had been, how he had so cleverly hauled me up to him, how we had sat on the ledge in the cliffs which he remembered from his childhood days, waiting for the tide to recede before we scrambled down.