antlike, moves busily up and down a field in clouds of dust; a figure stands on the bridge looking down into the river; but, and this is odd, Brown End itself seems enveloped in mist; sometimes almost invisible, sometimes as clear as everywhere else. Heat haze, perhaps, caused by the house’s proximity to the river, she tells herself firmly, and aware of a slight lowering of mood, resumes her climb.
She’s almost reached the top of the hill, where the footpath joins the road and the poor old Mini gave up the ghost, when she sees him, a brownish figure moving between the trees. He must have seen her too, and raises his arm in salute. They walk towards each other…
What follows is some sort of dream; it had to be. One minute they’re walking towards each other, the next they’re locked in an embrace so savage and passionate as to be quite outside either’s experience; exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.
“ It ’ s been so long , so long , Tavey , please …”
“ No , not yet . We must wait …”
Somehow, not even sure she wants to, she pulls away from him and they stand facing each other; things slowly returning to some semblance of normality, or as much as anything could under such circumstances. Sam’s the first to speak:
“Oh God I’m sorry, I simply can’t think what came over me.”
“Don’t apologise,” she says with a wisdom and weariness she didn’t know she possessed; despite the warmth of the sun, she feels cold and tired and unhappy. Her instinct is to run away, but she knows quite unequivocally that this – whatever it is – has to be sorted. “Don’t apologise; can’t you see it’s both of us, whatever It is?” Poor Sam, he looks so bewildered, so vulnerable. Odd, she’d never somehow regarded men as being vulnerable before. His hand trembles as he offers her a cigarette. She shakes her head. “I gave up years ago,” she says smiling, “you should too.”
“Do you think we’re being taken over?” he asks. “I mean, why did you call me Brian when we met first? – lots of things.”
“I think it’s possible.”
“What do we do about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ever since I came here,” he says, after a silence and not looking at her, “I’ve known there’s something I must do. The trouble is I don’t know what the bloody hell it is.”
“Tell me,” she says, “what’s happened to you, and I’ll tell you what’s happened to me. It’s something to do with this place, obviously, and if we pool our knowledge things might become a bit clearer…” Seated side by side on the grass, they do. When everything’s told, however, things don’t seem much clearer.
“Let’s go over what we do know.” Beatrice lies on her back, on the grass, hands behind her head, trying to sound positive. “There were these lovers, Brian and Tavey, who lived in this area and for reasons unknown their affair or whatever it was, went wrong. That’s about it, I suppose, except that somehow or other we’ve been dragged into it – in your case, from what you say, to put things right. In my case the only feeling I have about Tavey is that she wasn’t very nice.”
“Unlike her alter ego,” Sam says, trying and failing to take her hand, “and it wasn’t just Brian and Tavey being in love, it’s me too. With you, I mean. I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since we met.” Beatrice’s reaction is not, however, what he had hoped.
She gets up angrily, brushing leaves from her skirt. “It may have escaped your memory, Major Mallory, but you have a wife, and if that’s all you can contribute, I’m going.”
“Please don’t,” he calls after her, realising too late what a fool he has been, “I didn’t mean to upset you; it was a totally idiotic thing to say under the circumstances. Look, we must talk, it’s important, really important, before anything else happens.” But, ignoring the desperation in his voice, she’s already climbed the style into the road,
She’s almost reached the top of the hill, where the footpath joins the road and the poor old Mini gave up the ghost, when she sees him, a brownish figure moving between the trees. He must have seen her too, and raises his arm in salute. They walk towards each other…
What follows is some sort of dream; it had to be. One minute they’re walking towards each other, the next they’re locked in an embrace so savage and passionate as to be quite outside either’s experience; exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.
“ It ’ s been so long , so long , Tavey , please …”
“ No , not yet . We must wait …”
Somehow, not even sure she wants to, she pulls away from him and they stand facing each other; things slowly returning to some semblance of normality, or as much as anything could under such circumstances. Sam’s the first to speak:
“Oh God I’m sorry, I simply can’t think what came over me.”
“Don’t apologise,” she says with a wisdom and weariness she didn’t know she possessed; despite the warmth of the sun, she feels cold and tired and unhappy. Her instinct is to run away, but she knows quite unequivocally that this – whatever it is – has to be sorted. “Don’t apologise; can’t you see it’s both of us, whatever It is?” Poor Sam, he looks so bewildered, so vulnerable. Odd, she’d never somehow regarded men as being vulnerable before. His hand trembles as he offers her a cigarette. She shakes her head. “I gave up years ago,” she says smiling, “you should too.”
“Do you think we’re being taken over?” he asks. “I mean, why did you call me Brian when we met first? – lots of things.”
“I think it’s possible.”
“What do we do about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ever since I came here,” he says, after a silence and not looking at her, “I’ve known there’s something I must do. The trouble is I don’t know what the bloody hell it is.”
“Tell me,” she says, “what’s happened to you, and I’ll tell you what’s happened to me. It’s something to do with this place, obviously, and if we pool our knowledge things might become a bit clearer…” Seated side by side on the grass, they do. When everything’s told, however, things don’t seem much clearer.
“Let’s go over what we do know.” Beatrice lies on her back, on the grass, hands behind her head, trying to sound positive. “There were these lovers, Brian and Tavey, who lived in this area and for reasons unknown their affair or whatever it was, went wrong. That’s about it, I suppose, except that somehow or other we’ve been dragged into it – in your case, from what you say, to put things right. In my case the only feeling I have about Tavey is that she wasn’t very nice.”
“Unlike her alter ego,” Sam says, trying and failing to take her hand, “and it wasn’t just Brian and Tavey being in love, it’s me too. With you, I mean. I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since we met.” Beatrice’s reaction is not, however, what he had hoped.
She gets up angrily, brushing leaves from her skirt. “It may have escaped your memory, Major Mallory, but you have a wife, and if that’s all you can contribute, I’m going.”
“Please don’t,” he calls after her, realising too late what a fool he has been, “I didn’t mean to upset you; it was a totally idiotic thing to say under the circumstances. Look, we must talk, it’s important, really important, before anything else happens.” But, ignoring the desperation in his voice, she’s already climbed the style into the road,
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