The Time of the Hunter's Moon Page 3

  Lydia laughed. “It’s almost as though you are telling our fortunes.”

  “Your fortunes are for you to make,” he replied. “I only have certain…what shall I say…sensitivities.”

  “It’s Cordelia’s turn,” said Monique.

  “Cordelia’s turn?” he said.

  “You haven’t told her anything yet…about what’s going to happen.”

  “I have said,” he replied mildly, “that that will depend on Cordelia.”

  “But haven’t you anything to tell her?”

  “No,” he said. “Cordelia will know…when the time comes.”

  There was a deep silence. I was very much aware of the quietness of the forest and looming over us the grotesque formation of rock, which one’s imagination could easily twist into menacing shapes.

  It was Monique who spoke. “It’s rather uncanny here,” she said and shivered.

  Suddenly a sound broke the silence. It was the rather melodious call of the wagoner. His voice seemed to hit the mountain and echo through the forest.

  “We should have started back ten minutes ago,” said Frieda. “We’ll have to hurry.”

  We all jumped to our feet.

  “Goodbye,” we said to the stranger.

  Then we started down the path. After a few seconds I looked back. He had disappeared.

  ***

  We were late back but nothing was said and no one asked to see the gloves which we were supposed to have bought in the town.

  Elsa came to our room after supper. It was that half hour before prayers which was followed by our retiring for the night.

  “Well,” she said, “did you see anything?” Her eyes glistened with curiosity.

  “There was…something,” admitted Frieda.

  “Some thing…”

  “Well, a man,” added Monique.

  “The more I think of him,” added Lydia, “the more strange he seemed.”

  “Do tell,” cried Elsa. “Do tell.”

  “Well, we were sitting there…”

  “Lying there,” said Frieda who liked details to be exact.

  “Stretched out under the tree,” went on Lydia impatiently, “when he was suddenly there.”

  “You mean he appeared?”

  “You could call it that.”

  “What was he like?”

  “Handsome. Different…”

  “Go on. Go on…”

  We were all silent trying to remember exactly what he had looked like.

  “What’s the matter with you all?” demanded Elsa.

  “Well, it was rather strange when you come to think about it,” said Monique. “Did it strike you that he seemed to know something about us all? He described the château with the vines and towers.”

  Frieda said: “Many châteaux in France have their vineyards and almost all have pepper pot towers.”

  “Yes,” said Monique. “And yet…”

  “I think he was most interested in Cordelia,” announced Lydia.

  “Why should you think that?” I demanded. “He didn’t tell me anything.”

  “It was the way he looked at you.”

  “You’re not telling me anything,” complained Elsa. “I sent you there, don’t forget. I’ve a right to know.”

  “I’ll tell you what happened,” said Frieda. “We were silly enough to go to the forest when we might have gone into the town and had some of those delicious cream cakes…and because we’d been so silly we tried to make something happen. All that did was that a man came up, said he liked to hear us laugh and talk for a while.”

  “Trust Frieda to get it all neatly tied up,” said Lydia. “But I can’t help thinking that there was more to it than that.”

  “I reckon he’s a future husband for one of you,” said Elsa. “That’s how the story goes.”

  “If you believe that why didn’t you go and meet yours?” I asked.

  “How could I get away? I’m watched. They’d suspect me of shirking my duties.”

  “Rest assured,” said Frieda, “that those suspicions will soon be confirmed.”

  Elsa laughed with us.

  She at least was delighted with the excursion.

  ***

  All through November we were making plans to go home. For me it was a time tinged with sadness. I was going to hate saying goodbye to them all; but on the other hand I was looking forward to going home. Monique, Frieda and Lydia all said we must keep in touch. Lydia lived in London but her family had a country house in Essex where she spent most of her holidays, so we should not be so very far away from each other.

  For a few days after that encounter in the forest we talked a great deal about what we called our Pilcher’s Peak adventure. We had very quickly transformed it into an uncanny experience and we endowed the stranger with all sorts of peculiarities. He had had piercing eyes which shone with an unearthly light, according to Monique. She exaggerated what he had told her and was beginning to believe he had given her an accurate and minute description of her father’s château. Lydia said he had sent shivers down her spine and she was sure he had not been human.

  “Nonsense,” said Frieda, “he was taking a walk in the woods when he felt like a little conversation with a group of giggling girls.”

  I wasn’t sure what I thought, and although I was aware that the encounter was being considerably embellished it had made a deep impression on me.

  Term ended at the end of the first week in December. As most of us had to travel long distances Madame de Guérin always liked us to get on our way before the snows came too heavily and made the roads impassable.

  There were seven English girls who would be traveling on the same route. Fräulein Mainz saw us all onto the train and when we reached Calais it had been arranged for one of the travel agents to see us onto the boat. At Dover our families would be waiting for us.

  I had made the journey several times before, but this was to be the last time, and that made it different.

  We had a compartment to ourselves and as we had done the journey before it was only the younger ones who exclaimed at the grandeur of the mountain scenery and remained at the windows while we traveled through the majestic Swiss countryside. The older ones had grown blasé—myself and Lydia among them.

  The journey seemed endless; we talked; we read; we played games and we dozed.

  Most of them were half asleep and I was gazing idly before me when I saw a man. He was passing along the corridor. He looked in at our compartment as he went. I gasped. He appeared to glance at me but I was not sure that he recognized me. He was gone in a matter of seconds.

  I turned to Lydia who was seated next to me, asleep. I jumped up and made my way along the corridor. There was no sign of him.

  I went back to my seat and nudged Lydia.

  “I…I saw him,” I said.

  “Saw what?”

  “The man…the man in the forest…”

  “You’re dreaming,” said Lydia.

  “No. I was sure. He was gone in a flash.”

  “Why didn’t you speak to him?”

  “He was gone too quickly. I went after him but he had disappeared.”

  “You were dreaming,” said Lydia and closed her eyes.

  I was very shaken. Could it have been an apparition? It was over so quickly. He had been there…and then he was gone. He must have moved along that corridor very quickly. Had it really been the man himself or had I dreamed it?

  Perhaps Lydia was right.

  I looked out for him during the rest of the journey to Calais but he was not there.

  The train had been delayed because of the snowdrifts and we were eight hours late reaching Calais. It meant that we had to take the night ferry and it must have been about two o’clock in the morning when we embarked.

  Lydia was not feeling well; she was cold, she said, and felt a little sick. She had found a spot below where she could wrap herself up and lie down.

  I felt the need for fresh air and said I would go on deck.
I was given a rug and found a chair. True it was cold but I felt snug beneath my rug and I was sure Lydia would have been wiser to have come up with me rather than stay in the airless part of the ship.

  There was a faint crescent moon and myriads of stars were visible in the clear night sky. I could hear the voices of the crew not far off and I enjoyed the rocking of the ship, gentle as yet, but there was no wind and I did not anticipate a rough crossing.

  I was thinking of the future. It would always be fun with Aunt Patty. I could imagine long cozy evenings by her sitting room fire while she drank hot chocolate and nibbled macaroons for which she had a special fancy. We would laugh over the day’s events. There would always be something to laugh about. Oh, I was looking forward to it.

  I closed my eyes. I was rather sleepy. The journey had been tiring and there had been a great deal of fuss getting into the ship. I must not sleep deeply for I should have to find my way back to Lydia before the ship docked.

  I was aware of a faint movement at my side. I opened my eyes. A chair had been moved silently and now, with its occupant, it was beside me.

  “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

  My heart started to beat furiously. The same voice. The same air of being not quite of this world. It was the man of the forest.

  I was too startled to speak for a moment.

  He said: “I will be quiet if you wish to sleep.”

  “Oh no…no. It is…isn’t it?”

  “We met before,” he said.

  “You…you were on the train?”

  “Yes, I was on the train.”

  “I saw you pass the window.”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you going to England?”

  It was a foolish question. Where else could he be going since he was on the Channel steamer?

  “Yes,” he said. “I trust I shall see you while I am there.”

  “Oh yes. That would be pleasant. You must call on us. It’s Grantley Manor, Canterton, Sussex. Not far from Lewes.

  It’s quite easy to find.”

  “I’ll remember that,” he said. “You will see me.”

  “Are you going home?”

  “Yes,” he answered.

  I waited but he did not tell me where. There was about him an aloofness, something which warned me not to ask questions.

  “You will be looking forward to your meeting with your aunt.”

  “Very much.”

  “She seems a very indulgent lady.”

  “Indulgent? Yes, I suppose so. She is warmhearted and loving and I don’t think she ever felt any malice toward anyone. She has wit and says amusing things but she is never hurtful…unless anyone hurts her or hers, then she would respond with gusto. She is a wonderful human being.”

  “Your devotion to her is apparent.”

  “She was a mother to me when I needed one.”

  “A rare person clearly.”

  There was a short silence and then he said: “Tell me about yourself.”

  “You don’t want to talk very much about yourself,” I commented.

  “That will come. Now it is your turn.”

  It was like a command and I found myself talking of my early life, remembering things which I thought until this moment I had forgotten. I remembered incidents from Africa, the hours in the mission hall which had seemed endless, the singing of hymns, prayers, always prayers, little black babies playing in the dust, the multi-colored beads which jangled at their necks and waists, strange insects which looked like sticks and seemed as sinister as the snakes which slithered through the grass and of which one had to be very careful.

  But mostly I talked about Aunt Patty and the Manor and the school itself and how much I was looking forward to being a part of it.

  “You are fully qualified,” he said.

  “Oh yes, Aunt Patty saw to that. I have studied a number of subjects and then of course I went to Schaffenbrucken to be finished off, as Aunt Patty puts it.”

  “A very expensive school. Aunt Patty must be a rich woman to be able to send her niece there.”

  “I think she looked upon it as a good investment.”

  “Tell me about the Manor,” he said.

  So I talked, describing it room by room and the grounds which surrounded it. There were twenty acres. “We have a paddock and stables and playing fields, you see.”

  “It sounds commodious.”

  “It has a high reputation. Aunt Patty is always trying to increase it.”

  “I like your Aunt Patty.”

  “No one could help doing that.”

  “Loyal Miss Cordelia.”

  He lay back and closed his eyes. I thought it was an intimation that he did not want to talk for a while. So I did the same.

  The rocking of the boat was soothing, and as I was really very tired and it was the middle of the night, I went into a light doze. I awoke suddenly to the sounds of activity about me. I could just catch a glimpse of the coastline ahead.

  I turned to look at my companion. There was no one there. His chair and his rug were gone.

  I stood up and looked about me. There were not many people on deck, and certainly no sign of him.

  I went down to find Lydia.

  ***

  Aunt Patty was at the docks waiting to greet me, looking rounder than I remembered and her hat was splendid—ruchings of blue ribbon and a bow as wide as herself.

  I was clasped to her fondly and was able to introduce Lydia who couldn’t resist saying: “She is just as you said she was.”

  “Been telling tales about me in school, eh?” said Aunt Patty.

  “All she told us was lovely,” said Lydia. “She made us all want to come to your school.”

  I was hastily introduced to the woman who had come for Lydia. I gathered she was a sort of housekeeper, and I again rejoiced in Aunt Patty, who had come herself to meet me.

  Aunt Patty and I settled into the train, talking all the time.

  I did look round for the stranger but he was nowhere to be seen. There were so many people about and it would have been something of a miracle if I had been able to see him. I wondered where he was going.

  At the Canterton station, which was little more than a halt, we were met by the fly and whisked home in a very short time. I was moved as always by the first sight of Grantley Manor after an absence. Red-bricked, lattice-windowed, it looked gracious rather than grand, but most of all it looked like home.

  “Dear old place,” I said.

  “So you feel like that about it, do you?”

  “But of course. I remember the first time I saw it…but by then I knew everything was going to be all right because I had met you.”

  “Bless you, child. But believe me, bricks and mortar don’t make a home. You’ll find a home where you find the people who make a home for you.”

  “As you did, dear Aunt Patty. The girls love hearing about you…the macaroons and the hats and everything. They always call you Aunt Patty as though you are theirs too. I feel I want to say, ‘Here, stop it. She’s mine.’”

  It was lovely to step into the hall, to smell the beeswax and turpentine which always clung about the furniture mingling with the smell of cooking which came from the other side of the screens.

  “It’s a queer time to arrive. It’s just past noon. Do you feel tired?”

  “Not really. Only excited to be here.”

  “You’ll be tired later. Best to have a rest this afternoon. Then I want to talk to you.”

  “Of course. This is the great occasion. I have said goodbye to Schaffenbrucken.”

  “I’m glad you went there, Cordelia. It will be a blessing.”

  “It will bring them streaming in.”

  She gave a little cough and said: “You’ll miss all the girls though, won’t you, and the mountains and everything.”

  “I missed you most of all, Aunt Patty.”

  “Go on with you,” she said, but she was deeply moved.

  If I had not been a little bemused
by the man whom I called the Stranger, I might have noticed there was a change in Aunt Patty. It was hardly perceptible, but then I knew her so well. I might have asked myself if she was a trifle less exuberant than usual.

  I did get a hint though from Violet Barker—Aunt Patty’s housekeeper, companion and devoted friend who had been with Aunt Patty when I first arrived all those years ago. She was rather angular and lean—the complete opposite of Aunt Patty. They suited each other perfectly. Violet had nothing to do with the teaching of pupils but she did manage the household with expertise and was a very important part of the establishment.

  Violet looked at me so cautiously that I thought Aunt Patty must have talked so earnestly of Schaffenbrucken polish that Violet was trying to discern it.

  Then she said quite suddenly: “It’s the roof. It would have to be done within the next two years they say. And that’s not all. The west wall wants propping up. It’s been a wet winter so far. It’s given your aunt concern. Did she say?”

  “No. Well, I have just got home.”

  Violet nodded and pressed her lips tightly together. I might have guessed that something was very wrong.

  It was after dinner at about half-past eight when Aunt Patty and I were in her sitting room with Violet when she told me.

  I gasped and couldn’t believe I was hearing correctly when she said, “Cordelia. I’ve sold the Manor.”

  “Aunt Patty! What do you mean?”

  “I should have warned you. Led up to it. Things have not been too flourishing for the last three years.”

  “Oh, Aunt Patty.”

  “Dear child, don’t look so tragic. I am sure it is going to be all for the best. I’m sorry I have to confront you with a fait accompli. But there was no help for it, was there, Vi? We talked it over and over and this offer came along. You see there’s the roof and the west wall. The house needs a fortune spent on it. Times haven’t been so good for some years. I’ve had some bad debts.”

  I guessed that. I knew of at least three pupils whose parents hardly ever paid the fees. “Bright girls all of them,” Aunt Patty used to say. “A credit to the school.” Times were hard. No watered-down soup for Grantley. I had often wondered how she managed at the fees she charged but as she had never mentioned the matter to me I had supposed that all was well.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked.