Barbara Taylor Bradford - A Sudden Change of Heart

Within minutes she dived down again. This time she cut each side of the sneaker, tugged at Claire’s ankle and finally freed her foot. Filled with relief, Laura swam up, flopped against the tree branch, holding onto it and resting, breathing in large gulps of air.

‘I’m sorry,’ Claire whispered. ‘Are you all right, Laura?’

Nodding, Laura continued to rest for a minute or two. Then reaching for Claire, she towed her back to the bank and dragged her up onto the grassy slope.

Both girls were dripping wet and shaking with cold. Although Laura was exhausted, she wasted no time, pulling on her jeans and sneakers swiftly. Supporting each other they made their way back to the house.

Once they reached the back door which led into the kitchen, Laura stopped, and stared at Claire intently. ‘Before we go in tell me what happened. How did you get in the river?’

Claire nodded and pushed back her wet hair. Her freckles stood out like dark blotches on her ashen face. ‘I was picking wild flowers and got too near the edge of the river, Laura. I suddenly slipped and rolled down the bank into the water. I was scared and I panicked, floundered. I just don’t know how I drifted into the middle of the river.’

‘Gran says that part of the river is dangerous because there’s some sort of current out there. But come on, you’re shaking.’

‘So are you,’ Claire said, her teeth chattering.

Fenice was the first person they saw as they stepped into the big family kitchen.

The housekeeper, tall, red-haired and colourful in her white Austrian blouse and floral dirndl skirt, swung around from the stove as they entered. She gasped out loud at the sight of them.

‘Good Lord! What happened to you two?’ she cried rushing towards them. ‘A couple of drowned rats, that’s how you both look!’ She saw they were cold and shaking, most especially Claire, and drew her closer to the big kitchen stove where she was cooking breakfast. Glancing at Laura, Fenice added, ‘Get some big towels out of the linen press in the back hall, please, Laura. I’m afraid Claire’s a bit worse off than you.’

‘Yes, I know she is,’ Laura said and ran and did as Fenice asked. She returned with an armful of large towels.

‘Come on, Claire, wrap yourself in this and let’s get you upstairs. You too, Laura. What you both need is a hot shower immediately.’

‘What happened? What’s going on?’ Megan Valiant asked from the doorway of the dining room which led directly into the kitchen.

‘Claire was picking flowers and she fell into the deep part of the river near the meadow,’ Laura explained quickly.

‘I would have drowned if Laura hadn’t fished me out,’ Claire interjected. ‘I’m sorry, Grandma Megan, for making trouble.’

Megan Morgan Valiant held herself very still, remembering…remembering another child, her grandson…Mervyn, who had drowned in the lake in Connecticut. She felt a chill run through her. But at once she pushed aside her memories, and stared at Claire. She was puzzled by the girl’s apology and by the way in which she seemed to cower next to Laura, as if seeking protection.

Hurrying across to the two girls huddled together near the big range, Megan looked them over quickly and said in a brisk tone, ‘Neither of you seem to be too much the worse for wear, but you’d better go upstairs and have a shower, as Fenice suggested. And Fenice, please put the kettle on, I think the girls need something hot to drink. Grandpa Owen’s miner’s tea, that’ll do the trick.’

‘No sooner said than done, Mrs V.’ Fenice went to get the kettle, filled it with water at the sink and put it on the stove.

‘Come on, Claire,’ Laura said, shepherding her friend out of the kitchen.

Megan followed the two young girls, still pondering Claire’s demeanour. No wonder she seems frightened, Megan thought, she’s had a terrible scare. Falling into the river must have terrified her, since she can’t swim. It struck Megan that Claire might well be suffering from shock, and she wondered whether to call the doctor. Perhaps Claire ought to be taken over there to see him. Laura also looked pale, and she was shivering, but otherwise there didn’t seem to be too much wrong with her granddaughter.

Climbing the stairs behind them, Megan remarked, ‘I see you lost a sneaker, Claire.’

‘It’s in the river, Gran,’ Laura said, glancing over her shoulder.

‘I see. Never mind, we’ll drive over to Kent later and buy you another pair, Claire.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Claire answered rapidly. ‘I have my sandals with me.’

‘Sneakers are useful in the country, comfortable, and they’ll be a gift from me,’ Megan told her as they reached the landing at the top of the stairs. ‘Now, girls, into the shower both of you.’

Claire hurried off to the blue-and-white bedroom where she always stayed, and Laura went into hers.

Megan followed her granddaughter, and once she had closed the door behind them she said, ‘Out of those wet clothes at once and into the shower, Laura. Later you can tell me exactly what happened.’

‘But I have told you, Gran.’

‘Claire could be suffering from shock,’ Megan said. ‘I think I ought to drive you both over to Dr Tomkins.’

‘We’re both okay, Gran,’ Laura protested.

‘I’m going to pop along to Claire’s room, I want to see how she’s feeling.’

‘Yes, Gran,’ Laura said and went into the bathroom.

Megan knocked on the door of Claire’s room and when there was no answer she went in. From the bathroom she could hear the sound of water running in the shower. Turning, she caught sight of herself in the mirror hanging on the wall above the antique French chest.

Pausing for a moment, Megan smoothed her hand over her dark chestnut hair and then straightened the collar of her pale blue shirt. Leaning closer, she stared at herself. How white her face was. But that was no surprise. Claire’s misadventure had upset her greatly, even though she had not let the girls see this. Laura had not yet given her the details of the accident, but obviously they had been in a precarious situation. And Laura had put herself at risk because she had run to Claire’s rescue. The wide part of the river was dangerous, and the outcome might have been very different. Megan shivered and goose bumps flew up her arms as she realized how terrible the consequences might have been. Little Mervyn…he hadn’t been so lucky when he had fallen into the lake…

She walked across the floor, stood gazing out of the window for a moment, waiting for Claire to emerge. At sixty-seven, Megan Morgan Valiant was a beautiful woman. Tall and slender, she held herself erect, and in her carriage and deportment she was very much the great Broadway musical star. Although the colour of her rich chestnut hair needed help from her hairdresser these days, it was, nevertheless, thick and luxuriant; her face was relatively free of wrinkles and had remained youthful. Her eyes were her most arresting feature. They were a deep vivid blue, large and set wide apart. Her granddaughter had inherited them, as well as her height and colouring. Lithe and full of energy, Megan was a woman who had remained young in spirit. Her career in the theatre was somewhat curtailed these days, through choice, but her popularity as a star had never waned.

‘Oh, it’s you, Grandma Megan,’ Claire said, sounding surprised as she stepped into the bedroom wrapped in a towel. ‘I’m feeling better after my shower. And warmer.’

Megan nodded. ‘But perhaps we should go and see the doctor in Kent –’

‘No, no, I don’t need a doctor,’ Claire interrupted. ‘I’m fine, honestly I am.’

‘What happened? Why did you venture into the river when you can’t swim, Claire dear?’