A Week in Winter(41)

Now, however, she was back to her opinionated self.

‘It was a pleasant walk, certainly, but not really challenging,’ she pronounced.

‘Beautiful scenery. I could look at that big sky for ever,’ Winnie said.

‘Oh, indeed, but we should go the other way tomorrow, take the route south. There’s much more to see, Mrs Starr said. All those little creeks, inlets; we can look in the caves.’

‘It looked like a trickier route. Let’s see if any of the others have done it first.’ Winnie was cautious.

‘Oh, they’re all sheep. They won’t take on anything adventurous. That’s what we came for, isn’t it, Winnie? One last gesture to fight the elements before we settle into middle age.’

‘You aren’t settling anywhere,’ Winnie said.

‘No, but you are showing dangerous signs of becoming very middle-aged. Where’s your spirit, Winnie? Tomorrow we’ll take a packed lunch and hit the south face of Stoneybridge.’

Winnie smiled as if in agreement. She hadn’t a notion of putting herself at risk because Lillian was playing games. But that could all be dealt with tomorrow morning. In the meantime, she would just put in the time being charming and pleasant and unruffled. The prize was Teddy.

Please, dear, kind God, may he be worth it all.

They went back to Stone House on the bus and the guests were coming back from their excursions. The log fire blazed in the hearth. Everyone was drinking tea and eating scones. It was as if they had always lived this life.

At dinner, Winnie sat across from Freda, who said she was an assistant librarian. Winnie explained that she was a nurse.

‘Do you have an attachment?’ Freda asked.

‘No, I work through an agency; a different hospital every day, really.’

‘I actually meant a love attachment.’

Lillian was listening. ‘We are all a bit past love interests at our age,’ she tinkled.

‘I don’t know . . .’ Freda was thoughtful. ‘I’m not.’

‘Very odd woman, that,’ Lillian said later, in a whisper.

‘I thought she was good fun, I must say,’ Winnie said.

‘As I’ve said before, Winnie, you are totally undemanding. It’s amazing how little you ask from life!’

Winnie’s lips stretched into a smile. ‘That’s me,’ she simpered. ‘As you said, easily pleased.’

All the others were talking about tomorrow’s weather. Storms coming in from the south, Mrs Starr said, great care needed. These creeks and inlets filled up very rapidly; even local people had been fooled by the strength of the winds and tides. Winnie sighed with relief. At least Lillian’s daft plan of behaving like an explorer would be cancelled.

But when they took their packed lunch next morning, Lillian headed straight in the direction that they had been warned against. Winnie paused for an instant. She could refuse to go. But then Lillian was possibly right. Mrs Starr was being overcautious to cover herself.

Winnie could do it. She was thirty-four years of age, for God’s sake. Lillian was fifty-three, at the very least. She had put up with so much already, invested so much time and patience – she wouldn’t check out now.

And at first, it was exhilarating. The spray was salty and the rocks large, dark and menacing. The cries of the wild birds and the pounding of the sea made talking impossible. They strode on together, pausing to look out over the Atlantic and realise that the next land was three thousand miles away in the United States.

Then they found the entrance to Majella’s Cave that Mrs Starr had told them about. It was sheltered there and the wind wasn’t cutting them in half. They sat on a rocky ledge to open the bread and cheese and flask of soup that had been packed for them. Their eyes were stinging, their cheeks were red and whipped by the wind and sea air. They both felt fit and alive and very hungry.

‘I’m glad we battled on and came here,’ Winnie said, ‘it was well worth it.’

‘You didn’t want to really,’ Lillian was triumphant. ‘You thought I was being foolhardy.’

‘Well if I did, I was wrong. It’s good to push yourself a bit.’ As she spoke, Winnie felt a great slosh of water across her face – a wave had come deep into the cave. Oddly, it was not withdrawing out to sea again as they thought it would; rather it was followed by several more waves coming in and splashing around their feet. The two women moved backwards speedily. But still they came, the dark, cold waters, hardly giving any time for the previous wave to recede. Wordlessly, they climbed to an even higher ledge. They would be fine here, well above the water level.

The waves kept coming, and in an attempt to scramble even higher, Lillian kicked the two canvas bags that had held their picnic, their mobile phones and the warm dry socks. They watched as the waves carried the bags out to sea.

‘How long does it take for the tide to change?’ Lillian asked.

‘Six hours, I think,’ Winnie was crisp.

‘They’ll come for us then,’ Lillian said.

‘They don’t know where we are,’ Winnie said.

They didn’t speak any more then. Only the sound of the wind and waves filled Majella’s Cave.

‘I wonder who Majella was?’ Winnie said after a long time.

‘There was a Saint Gerard Majella,’ Lillian said doubtfully. It was the first time that she had ever spoken without a sense of certainty.