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‘I don’t know what Alistair must have been thinking, to go out on the pier in this wind and with the sea running so high,’ commented Albert as he joined his wife.

  ‘Don’t be too ready to blame him,’ murmured Georgina. ‘From what Olivia managed to tell me when we were alone, it was Lena who insisted on going on. She can be headstrong at times. We’ll say no more about it.’

  They had re-entered the drawing-room as they were speaking and Georgina went straight to the bell-pull beside the fireplace while Albert stirred the fire and threw two more logs on to it. When a maid appeared, Georgina ordered tea and scones to be served as soon as all the young ones were down.

  James returned after distributing the whisky. Alistair was the next to come into the drawing-room and was followed shortly afterwards by Olivia.

  ‘Has Lena all that she requires?’ asked Georgina.

  ‘Yes, Mama. She won’t be long.’

  Ten minutes later Lena appeared, her face glowing after its buffeting by the wind. Noting she was the last to arrive, she apologised.

  ‘Not at all, my dear,’ said Georgina. ‘You needed that warming bath.’

  Before any more was said two maids arrived with the tea, and the foolhardiness of going out on the pier in such weather was not mentioned again.

  As Georgina had promised earlier, they dined in splendour that evening and afterwards settled in the drawing-room. Georgina took out her embroidery, Albert his book: Black Beauty by Anna Sewell. Alistair challenged James to a game of chess, and Olivia and Lena contested their skills on the draughts board. It was a quiet, touching on sombre, evening compared to those enjoyed in the past. James could sense his sister’s desire to liven it up but knew she would not go against his warning to do nothing to upset their hosts’ plans . . . well, not this very first evening under the Nashes’ roof.

  On Christmas morning Lena woke feeling puzzled by a dream that involved two men who remained shadow-like presences. By the end of it she still did not know who she walked beside but felt alarmed by the upheaval that such a dream presaged. She was in low spirits as she dressed, but as she neared the bottom of the stairs she realised she must shake off this attitude or she would be questioned as to what troubled her. She paused at the dining-room door, took a deep breath and went in.

  ‘Good morning, everyone,’ she said brightly. ‘I’m sorry I’m late.’

  ‘My dear, you are not,’ Albert Nash hastened to reassure her.

  ‘We did not want to wake you unless it became necessary, ’ said Georgina. ‘We still have plenty of time to get to the parish church for the morning service.’

  So it proved. Lena was pleased to find conversation over breakfast light-hearted. As they climbed into the coach afterwards she felt the spirit of Christmas seep into her, and the feeling deepened as they were driven across the bridge and along Church Street to Green Lane where the coachman urged the horse to greater effort as it met the steepening gradient to the Abbey Plain. Leaving the coach between the ruined abbey and the church, Mr and Mrs Nash led the way inside to one of the box-pews.

  The parson’s words seemed to dismiss Lena’s bad dream. Though she took in little of his sermon she relished singing the carols, recalling the peace and hopefulness of Christmases past.

  After an enjoyable day marked by light-hearted laughter and a good rapport with their friends, an exceptionally pleasing Christmas meal and the exchange of presents which they had all taken care over choosing, Georgina suggested that their guest should play the piano.

  ‘Some gentle pieces,’ she stipulated as Lena took her place.

  Lena ran her fingers over the keys, producing no music in particular as she got the feel of the instrument. Then she moved into Chopin. The notes were clear and bright under her touch. A respectful silence filled the room.

  Alistair’s eyes never left her, taking in every detail as if he wished to imprint it indelibly on his mind, for fear of ever losing it. Though Lena would deny she was beautiful, to him her beauty filled the room. He knew that whenever he walked into it henceforth, she would be here for him and he would see her just as she was now, seated at the piano, her delicate fingers bringing joyous notes with every touch, features composed in concentration yet relaxed in the pleasure of making such beautiful sounds.

  The last note faded. Lena stayed absolutely still, her fingers resting lightly on the keys.

  For a moment there was a deep and complete silence as if everyone was absorbing what they had just heard and did not wish to mar its beauty. Then Georgina clapped her hands quietly, bound to show her appreciation. Her gesture broke the spell and everyone followed suit.

  ‘Beautiful,’ commented Georgina. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I wish I could play like that,’ said Olivia.

  ‘You could if you practised as much as I suspect Lena has,’ commented her father.

  ‘Wonderful!’ exclaimed Alistair.

  Lena swung round on the piano stool. ‘Thank you. I enjoyed playing for you again. It’s a while since I have been able to.’

  ‘Then play some more,’ urged Alistair.

  Lena glanced at her hostess.

  ‘Please do,’ Georgina approved.

  She turned back to the piano and once again gentle music filled the room. It did so for another twenty minutes, then suddenly Lena changed the tempo, ran her fingers swiftly over the white notes and moved into Good King Wenceslas.

  ‘Come on, everyone, just like Christmas past - carols round the piano.’

  There was no response for a moment. Then: ‘Lena, do you think we should? It’s not a year yet . . .’

  ‘Of course we should, Aunt Georgina!’ she replied brightly. ‘Mama and Papa would want us to.’

  ‘I think they would,’ put in James quickly, in support of his sister. ‘They loved carols round the piano and it will be a fitting way to commemorate them.’

  Georgina shot a quick look at her husband who indicated his approval with a slight nod and said, ‘I agree with James.’

  Georgina made no further objection; even if in her heart of hearts she did not approve, she was not one to put a complete damper on tthe festivities. Her wishes had been observed yesterday and earlier today. If the others did not want this Christmas to be remembered as a miserable one, why should she? She rose from her chair, took Albert’s hand, and in a matter of moments was singing along with everyone else.

  Lena did not let up and went from one carol to another. She sensed regret in everyone when they realised she was nearing the end of her repertoire so without stopping went smoothly into a selection of music-hall songs. Georgina frowned but made no comment as everyone else was still singing energetically. Feeling her husband squeeze her hand she smiled at him and sang as enthusiastically as he.

  The tone was set for the rest of the night. There was laughter in everyone’s eyes as they finally said ‘good night’ at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Thanks for backing me, James,’ whispered Lena when she had his attention.

  He smiled and winked, setting the seal on their little conspiracy.

  ‘You were right, my dear,’ said Georgina, a twinkle of appreciation in her eyes. ‘I felt your mother and father near us, and they approved.’

  Lena’s eyes were damp as she kissed their good friend. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘We shall continue in that vein tomorrow, and we must see that your aunt and uncle and cousins pass an enjoyable stay. Oh, we won’t forget what happened, but we must let them see that life must go on, even though we mourn.’

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Pleased to be going home, Martin?’ Mary asked her husband, watching him in the dressing-table mirror as she brushed her hair before going to bed.

  He met her eyes and gave a small smile. ‘Yes,’ he replied quietly. ‘Don’t take that amiss; I like Whitby fine . . . but not as much as Dundee.’

  ‘Naturally. Our roots are there.’

  He stopped undoing his cufflinks. With his gaze fixed lovingly on her, he slipped his arms over her sho
ulders and kissed her on the top of her head. ‘I’m glad we came. I hope you are too?’

  ‘I am. My mind will be at rest now, concerning Lena and James.’

  He gave a little nod of agreement. ‘I am pleased they are coping so well. I know Mrs Nash’s letters were reassuring, but what we have seen for ourselves more than confirms her views.’

  ‘I was a little apprehensive when we first arrived, considering it was just a year on from the tragedy.’ Mary’s voice faltered slightly but she drew strength from the gentle pressure he put on her shoulders. ‘But that disappeared when I realised how settled both the children seem in their new life.’

  ‘And from what I gather, all is well between James and Olivia. I think we’ll be coming back for a wedding before too long,’ said Martin as he went to sit on a chair and remove his shoes.

  ‘I gathered the same,’ replied Mary, ‘though no one has expressly said so. I think at the moment James is too engrossed in seeing his new ship built and put into service.’

  ‘It will be a fine match. So will one between Pauline and Alistair,’ added Martin firmly.

  ‘You’ve heard something then?’

  ‘No, but he’s an excellent young man. He’s fast becoming a good doctor and will make an equally good husband. It’s bound to happen - they’ve known each other all their lives, just like James and Olivia.’

  ‘Now don’t you jump to conclusions,’ warned his wife, swinging round on her stool.

  ‘What? It’s plain enough for all to see.’

  ‘Oh, you men,’ she replied with a touch of irritation. ‘You see only what you want to see, and that is only the surface.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘I know nothing, no one has said anything, but I have felt sometimes that Lena is ill at ease.’

  ‘Then ask her.’

  ‘No! That’s the very last thing to do. She is a capable young lady and will make up her own mind. We have no right to interfere.’

  ‘I think we should query . . .’

  ‘She will come to us if she wants our advice. She knows we will listen.’ Mary eyed her husband with a stern expression. ‘And you will do nothing. Heed my words, Martin MacBride. Leave well alone.’

  He met her gaze and knew, without a doubt, he would not interfere.

  ‘Both of you will be sure to come?’ James’s emphasis left no doubt in Martin’s and Mary’s minds that their nephew would be sorely disappointed if they were not at the launching of the John Carnforth.

  ‘Nothing will keep us away,’ replied Martin firmly.

  ‘Of course we’ll be there,’ said Mary, hugging her nephew. ‘Meanwhile, look after yourself and Lena.’

  ‘I will. Have a safe journey.’ He gave her a kiss, shook hands with his uncle, and turned to say goodbye to his cousins who had been fussing around Lena.

  Her aunt held out her arms and Lena felt her warm and loving embrace.

  ‘I look forward to seeing you again, Aunt,’ she said sincerely.

  ‘I’m sorry we can’t stay longer but time will pass. Soon we’ll be watching the John Carnforth take majestically to the water. No doubt you’ll be conducting the launching ceremony?’

  Lena gave a small shrug, ‘I expect so, though James hasn’t mentioned it yet.’

  ‘It’s early days for the finer details,’ her aunt pointed out, and gave Lena another hug. ‘I am pleased to see you so well. Keep it that way and look after yourself.’

  ‘I will, Aunt.’ Hearing footsteps, she glanced along the street. ‘Here are the Nashes, coming to say farewell.’

  There was gaiety in the greetings and wishes for a safe journey from Mr and Mrs Nash, Olivia and Alistair, and more excited exchanges as the coach rumbled away, taking the MacBrides on the first stage of their journey to Dundee.

  ‘Should we walk on the cliff top?’ Alistair suggested as the vehicle disappeared.

  ‘You young ones go,’ said his mother, ‘I’ll see to luncheon for you all in two hours.’

  ‘We don’t want to put you to any bother,’ said Lena.

  ‘It will be no bother, my dear. Cook is well prepared.’

  Within twenty minutes, suitably dressed against the cold air, the four young people stopped on the cliff top to gaze out over a grey sea teased into whitecaps by the sharp wind.

  Lena took a deep breath, revelling in the fresh feeling it brought. ‘Wonderful!’

  Alistair saw the distant look in her eyes, as if she was trying to see beyond the horizon. He wondered what exactly she sought there.

  Olivia shivered. ‘It’s cold. Let’s keep moving,’ she said, grasping James’s arm and allowing him to fall into step beside her.

  Lena stood still. Alistair remained silently beside her. This was not the time to break into her thoughts. She was so far away. A few moments passed before she took hold of his arm and turned to follow James and Olivia. Alistair, finding reassurance in her touch, resisted making any comment.

  ‘Do you want to catch the others up?’ asked Lena.

  He eyed her with a wry smile. ‘Do you think they would want us to?’

  ‘I doubt it.’ She had noted James and Olivia were hand-in-hand. Two people in love, certainly. She saw them take a path that led down to the strand of sand stretching away to Sandsend. ‘Let’s stay up here.’

  ‘The bite in the wind not too much for you?’ he asked considerately.

  ‘No.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘No, I love it.’

  ‘I’m so glad everything went well over Christmas and the New Year. I was afraid the memories might be too much for you.’

  ‘They were there, Alistair, but there was no point in dwelling on them.’

  ‘That is a very brave attitude. I have seen other people torn apart under the loss of loved ones.’ He stopped and turned her gently to him so that he could look into her eyes. ‘Lena, please remember I am here if ever you need . . .’

  ‘I know, Alistair, and am grateful for your consideration. You are a very dear friend.’

  ‘I hope I am more than that?’

  Lena’s heart beat faster. Her thoughts raced. What else was he going to say? How would she respond if he proposed to her now?

  He kissed her, his lips gentle on hers. She accepted them and enjoyed their touch. She felt his arms tighten around her and her own arms automatically slid up over his shoulders. She dwelt on that moment gratefully, savouring her own indecision. A gesture could send the result spinning one way; a single word could throw it in the opposite direction. His lips were warm on hers and she responded, but when he broke the silence to say, ‘I love you,’ Lena put a finger to his lips and said, ‘No more, Alistair, not now.’

  As those unwanted words struck at his hopes he expected her to turn away from him but she did not. Instead she kissed him again and he read that as a sign of encouragement. He withheld his own response but took her hand as they walked on.

  Although her thoughts were racing Lena controlled them, knowing she must, at least until she was alone in her room. There, snug between white sheets, she allowed them full rein.

  What if she had allowed Alistair to say what she believed he’d been about to? How would she have answered? Why did she stop him? And all the time she knew the single answer to all her questions: Peter. She tossed and turned, chiding herself over and over again for entertaining such a thought. What did she really know of him? Why had he sparked such a feeling of restlessness in her? Was it merely his association with the sea, something she herself had enjoyed all her life? Was she seeing him as a way to fulfil her own thwarted ambitions and dreams? She fell asleep with no question fully answered but they were to haunt her over the next month, even when she was with Alistair. She knew the assurance he sought from her, but still did not feel ready to give it.

  ‘Mr Alistair Nash to see you, miss.’

  ‘Please show him in.’

  Lena stood to greet Alistair when he entered the drawing-room.

  He held out his hands to her and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I can
only stay a few minutes.’

  She pulled an expression of displeasure. ‘I hoped you were coming to ask me for a walk on this lovely February day.’

  He gave a smile of regret. ‘Sorry, but I’ve to see old Mrs Grimshaw in Ruswarp in half an hour. You could come with me? She’s bed-bound and might like a bit of company. A new face might cheer her up.’

  Lena’s lips tightened and she gave a slight shake of her head as she recalled the one time she had deigned to accompany him to visit a bed-bound person - the smells had been overpowering and she had retched when she reached home. Never again, she had sworn to herself, even if she became a doctor’s wife. ‘Not today,’ she said. ‘I need some air. I’ll take a walk on my own.’

  Alistair shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, but as you wish.’ His demeanour brightened. ‘Now hopefully I’ll divert you with the purpose of this visit instead.’ He left a slight pause that was filled with intent.

  Was this the moment when he . . . ? No, it couldn’t be. If it were, he would not be in such a rush to get away to see Mrs Grimshaw. Lena inclined her head, her eyes filled with curiosity. ‘Well, what is it?’

  ‘I’ve had an invitation from Mr and Mrs Charles Sugden of Weaver Hall, to a house party there on the last weekend of this month. Friday afternoon until after lunch on Sunday. They have asked me to bring a partner.’

  ‘I don’t know them,’ replied Lena, seeking time to take in the implications of this invitation.

  ‘He is from a wool manufacturing family in the West Riding. I was at school in York with him. We kept in touch only infrequently until last year when he inherited Weaver Hall from an uncle and moved there from the West Riding. We corresponded a little more after that. Apparently he has been having extensive alterations done; they are now completed and he wishes to baptise the hall with a few friends. About twelve, I believe.’ His eyes were seeking Lena’s reaction. When there was nothing immediate forthcoming, Alistair added quickly, ‘He knows I’m not married and has set aside two rooms for me and my guest. So I’m asking you to accompany me?’