Gossamer Cord

“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.

“I could never have done it alone,” I said. “I did not know which way to turn.”

“You could have been drowned,” whispered Dorabella.

“I think that is very likely. I have to thank Gordon.”

Gordon said: “Oh, you would have clambered up somehow.”

“Good old Gordon,” said Dermot.

“It was a miracle that he came along in time,” said Matilda. “And he is always so calm in any emergency. Most people would have panicked and dashed off to get help and, by the time that came, it could have been too late.”

“I was lucky to know the cliffs so well,” said Gordon.

“And I was lucky that you saved my life,” I added.