Anne Mather - Chase A Green Shadow

Tamsyn slid abruptly out of bed. Such thoughts were not conducive to a peaceful frame of mind at this hour of the day and she determinedly walked to the window and looked out on the scene that spread out before her.

The landscape was green and rolling, and somewhere she could hear the sound of running water. But what amazed her most was its emptiness, acres and acres of rolling moorland without a house or village spire to be seen. Away to the left, in a fold of the hills, she knew the village of Trefallath nestled, but here there was nothing but the tree-strewn marches populated by sheep and goats and the lonely cry of the curlew.

She drew away from the window and glanced at her watch. It was a little after eight, and she wondered what she should do. Go downstairs, she supposed. After all, she could hardly expect Joanna to run after her, and nor did she want her to. But she wondered where her father was. Where did he have his surgery? Surely not here, some distance from the village. How on earth did Joanna stand the loneliness?

She washed in the bathroom with its disturbingly noisy geyser gurgling away beside her and then dressed in jeans and a sleeveless sweater. She didn’t bother with make-up, but combed her thick hair into some kind of order before leaving her room.

As she descended the staircase she could hear Joanna singing in the kitchen, and she sighed. There was no point in maintaining a kind of armed truce with someone with whom one was going to have to spend a great deal of time, she decided reasonably, with a pang of remorse for her mother. But her mother was not here, she was, and nothing she said would alter the inevitable. With determined brightness, she turned the handle of the kitchen door and entered the room.

Joanna was at the stove, her face shiny from the heat of the pans. ‘Oh, good morning,’ she said, in surprise. ‘You’re up, then! I was going to bring your breakfast up to you.’

Tamsyn bit her lip. ‘There’s no need for that, really. I’m perfectly capable of getting up and making my own breakfast. Besides, in—in your condition, you should be resting, shouldn’t you?’

Joanna stopped what she was doing and looked squarely at her stepdaughter. ‘You noticed, then.’

Tamsyn coloured. ‘Yes. Where’s my father?’

‘He’s gone to see Mrs. Evans. She had a seizure in the night.’ Joanna frowned. ‘You didn’t say anything to your father last night.’

‘No.’ Tamsyn moved her shoulders defensively. ‘Look, Joanna, I’ll be honest with you. I didn’t want to come here, but my mother wanted me to, so I came.’ She sighed. ‘Last night I was tired. It was quite an ordeal coming here—alone. I—well, needed time to think.’

‘And now you’ve thought,’ said Joanna.

‘Yes.’

‘You didn’t think that your father might be hurt by your not mentioning it sooner?’

Tamsyn moved her head. ‘Look—it’s difficult for me, too, Joanna.’

‘And from your expression last night it wasn’t just difficult, it was unacceptable, wasn’t it?’

Tamsyn scuffed her toe, her hands tucked into the belt of her jeans. ‘I guess so.’

‘Why? What’s so unacceptable about two married people loving one another enough to want children? Wasn’t that what your mother and father did when they had you?’

‘That was different!’ Tamsyn felt uncomfortable. ‘Well, no, I guess it wasn’t. But just give me time. I—I’ll get over it.’

‘And in the meantime your father has to worry about you, eh?’ Joanna turned back to the stove.

‘It’s not like that,’ exclaimed Tamsyn indignantly. ‘Good heavens, he surely didn’t expect me to behave as though everything was as it should be! I mean—I scarcely know him! Let alone feel at home with him!’

‘Whose fault is that?’

‘Why, no one’s, I guess.’

‘You blame your father for everything, don’t you?’ Joanna ladled scrambled eggs on to a plate.

‘No—that is—no, I don’t.’ But she did, and Joanna knew it. ‘Look—can’t we start again? I know it’s difficult for you, too. But if I’m to stay here, we can’t go on like this.’

‘I agree.’ Joanna came to the scrubbed wooden table that dominated the kitchen. She rested her hands on the table and looked into Tamsyn’s flushed young face. ‘All right, Tamsyn. We’ll begin again. I won’t make things difficult for you, if you don’t make things difficult for me.’

‘What do you mean?’ Tamsyn frowned.

Joanna shook her head. ‘You really don’t know your father very well, do you? Do you honestly think that your attitude last night didn’t upset him? Don’t you realise that he thinks the world of you? He always has. He hasn’t seen much of you, but maybe that’s why he’s built you up in his mind into something—something marvellous, terrific! His daughter! His Tamsyn! That side of him hasn’t been easy to live with, believe me! And now you’re here, and if you think things can go on as before so long as you remain indifferent to him, you’re mistaken. You’ll always come first in his thoughts, I’ve known that for years, and after you’d gone to bed last night he was like a bear with a sore head, worrying about your reactions. He knew the sight of me had shocked you, and I think if he could have changed things there and then he would have done. But when we went in for this child we didn’t know we were going to have you to stay!’

‘Oh, Joanna!’ Tamsyn felt terrible. ‘I—I didn’t know—I didn’t realise.’

‘How could you? So far as you were concerned your father was the villain of the piece. Well, he isn’t, and he never was. But that’s another story.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Tamsyn didn’t know what to say.

‘That’s all right. I just wanted to get things straight between us before your father gets back.’ Joanna straightened and turned back to the stove. ‘Do you like your bacon crisp or not?’

Tamsyn moved to the table, fingering a fork absently. ‘Do you think I could just have toast? I’m not very hungry, actually.’

Joanna clicked her tongue. ‘No, I don’t think you could just have toast,’ she retorted, but there was a faint suggestion of a smile touching the corners of her mouth. ‘And there’s no point in moping about what’s been said. You’re seventeen, Tamsyn, nearly eighteen, in fact. It’s time you grew up. As you said earlier, we’ve got to live together for the next few weeks, so we might as well make the best of it.’

Tamsyn nodded. ‘All right. I’m willing.’

‘Good. Then we understand one another.’ Joanna flexed her back muscles wearily. ‘I shall be glad when these few weeks are over, and I don’t mean because of you. I feel so big and clumsy, particularly now, in comparison to you.’

Tamsyn glanced down self-consciously. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘You’re much smaller than I am. I feel quite tall beside you.’

Joanna smiled. ‘I always wanted to be tall and slim like you. You’re lucky. You’ve inherited your height and build from your father. Do you know his hair used to be that colour once?’

‘You must tell me about him,’ suggested Tamsyn quietly. ‘I—I’d like to hear about his life before he—he married my mother.’

‘Hywel told you I knew him then, of course.’

Tamsyn felt her nerves tingle at the mention of Hywel Benedict’s name. ‘Yes,’ she said, taking a seat at the scrubbed table and resting her chin on her hands, elbows supported on the wooden surface.

Joanna scooped bacon and eggs on to a plate and put it before her. It smelt marvellous and Tamsyn realised she was hungry after all. There was crusty bread to go with it, and yellow butter that melted on the toast that followed.

Joanna joined her at the table, but she had only some toast and Tamsyn commented upon it. ‘I need to lose some weight, actually,’ confided her stepmother with a sigh. ‘We may not have much to offer here, but at least the food is good and wholesome, and I’m afraid I can’t resist hot scones with butter and lots of suety puddings.’