The lark was somewhere high above her, filling the blue air with his song. Fliss
stared upwards, shielding her eyes with her hands, dazzled by the brilliant, golden
light. The land was drenched in sunlight; it soaked into the rich red earth, plunged
into the clear cold waters of the river and bathed the trees with vivid colour. Close
to, each long blade of grass showed separately, bright, clear cut, with its own thin,
sharp, black shadow; far off, the hills rose up, indigo and violet, their heads touched
with gilt. Across the river, sheep with lambs still at heel nibbled lazily as they
strayed across the meadow, ignored by the cows that lay in the shade of the pollarded
willows at the water's edge.
Fliss stepped back into the darkness of the spinney. Here and there the sunshine
penetrated the thick green roof, splashing golden coins upon the earthy floor and
dripping molten fingers down rough-barked trunks and smooth grey boles. Now that
the bluebells were over, very little blossomed in this dim interior. Amongst the
roots of a mighty beech, the pale pink flowerets of the campion stretched hopefully
on leggy stalks toward the distant light, whilst brambles encroached stealthily across
a fallen branch.
As her eyes grew accustomed to the shadow, Fliss battled with a now-familiar surge
of fear. She found it quite impossible to believe that in three months' time she
would be in Hong Kong, about to become a mother, preparing for a two-year naval posting.
She simply could not imagine either of these two events. Becoming a mother must be
a sufficiently world-shattering experience without it taking place so many thousands
of miles away from all that she knew and loved. She looked about her, lightly touching
an overhanging spray of leaves, feeling the sappy resilience as she rolled a beech
leaf between her fingers. In the past - her past - the spinney had been a symbol,
a landmark, a challenge. It was her younger siblings, Mole and Susanna, who had begun
it. Running round the spinney had started simply as a race to be timed by Fox, their
grandmother's gardener and handyman. Watch in hand he would stand on the hill, beneath
the walls of The Keep, whilst they ran round the stand of trees. Then it had been
just a game. Later, for Mole it had become more significant, a symbol of achievement;
to run round the spinney alone, to pass the point where he could no longer see the
walls of The Keep, had demanded all his courage.
Even now, Fliss did not know why Mole had been so completely devastated by the news
of their parents' and elder brother's ambush and murder by the Mau-Mau in Kenya fifteen
years before. Her own grief had been agonising enough but Mole, at four years old,
had been struck dumb for months and even now was sometimes unable to control the
stammer which had accompanied the return of his powers of speech. He'd suffered terrible
nightmares and had dreaded being left alone. Back at The Keep, however, in the care
of his grandmother, Frederica Chadwick, he had gradually learned to control his terror.
Now he had passed the Admiralty Interview Board and entered the Royal Navy, as generations
of Chadwicks had done before him.
Fliss leaned against the beech tree and closed her eyes. How far they had come since
that day of desolation in Kenya. Mole - a naval cadet; Susanna - about to leave school
to train as a graphic artist; and she, Fliss - married to a naval officer, pregnant
with her first child and soon to leave the safety of familiar surroundings for Hong
Kong. Her husband, Miles, had no idea of the depth of her fear. It seemed perfectly
natural to him that she should pack and follow wherever the Navy should send him,
and she was unable to share her anxieties with him. Fifteen years older than she,
he was so adult, so much more experienced, so determined . . .
Fliss thought: He has no family, no roots and he is so confident, so sure . . .
She sighed a little, pressing back her fear, remembering how she had come through
the anguish of the death of her parents and her beloved big brother, Jamie. From
the shadow of the spinney she looked out across the fields to the hills, breathing
deeply until a measure of courage returned. If Mole could batten down his weakness
and his terror then so could she. She stared up at the trees, whose long shadows
stretched out towards The Keep, remembering how much she had worried about him, how
frightened she had been for him. No need to worry about either of them now. Mole
was settled at Dartmouth and Susanna still had the happy confidence which had been
her birthright; there was no reason why she, Fliss, could not go out to Hong Kong
quite free from anxiety.
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