Sara Craven - Past All Forgetting

Her schoolwork began to suffer, and she found herself the target for tart remarks from her teachers, who could not understand why such a previously bright and interested girl had suddenly become such an introspective dreamer. She could not sleep either. Many nights she lay awake for hours, tormented by feelings that she could only dimly comprehend. It was a warm summer, so she was able to blame the heat for her sleeplessness and shadowed eyes. There were even nights when she let herself quietly out of the sleeping house and walked through the silent streets, through the town and up into the hills, encountering nothing more than a few startled sheep. Except once.

Janna rolled on to her back and stared up at the ceiling as she remembered that particular night. As it happened, she had not been for one of her solitary walks. She had been visiting a girl friend whose parents owned a farm a few miles up the dale from Carrisford, and she was cycling back rather later than she had intended. She was not worried about it. Her parents would probably think she was spending the night at Marion’s as she had done in the past, she reassured herself.

She came across the Carrisbeck bridge and slowed for the bend, when she noticed a car pulled off the road and into the shelter of the trees which crowded to the edge of the highway. She recognised it instantly, even though its lights were off, and checked.

Her first thought was that Rian might be in the wood with Barbara, and she had to suppress a pang of jealous anger, but reason prevailed, pointing out that this particular clump of trees was hardly an appropriate place for a lovers’ tryst. It was far too near the river for one thing, and invariably damp. So what was he up to? she wondered. She got off her bike and wheeled it to the side of the road, depositing it near Rian’s car, then set off down the narrow muddy track which was all that constituted a path. There was no sound of voices, however hushed, just the distant murmur of the river and closer at hand the heart-thudding cry of an owl just above her head.

Janna expelled her breath in a slow sigh of sheer fright, then went cautiously on.

She paused as she emerged from the trees where the ground fell away sharply to the river bank below, and a mischievous smile curved her lips. The river at this point was wide, and the current deep and sluggish. It was one of the places recognised locally as being safe for bathing, and Rian, she saw, was taking full advantage of the fact. Against the silvery sheen of the water, his hair looked black and gleaming, and she could see the long lithe turn of his body as he moved easily through the water.

She slithered down on to the bank, found what she was looking for—his clothes in a neat pile—and sat on them demurely, waiting for him to notice her. But somewhat to her pique, he was obviously too absorbed in his own pleasure to notice he had company, and eventually she was obliged to draw his attention to the fact by clearing her throat noisily.

He dived under the water and came up a few feet from the bank, treading water, and shaking the drops from his face and hair.

‘Janna,’ he said resignedly. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘You’re not the only person who gets the urge to go moonlight bathing,’ she said sweetly. ‘Wouldn’t you like some company?’

‘No, I wouldn’t,’ he said with an air of restraint. ‘Be a good girl and push off—please.’

She pouted, triumphantly aware that she had the whip hand for once. ‘It’s a free country,’ she pointed out. ‘And this is one of my favourite spots. Nor is it part of your uncle’s estate. You can’t make me go.’

‘No, I can’t,’ he acknowledged. ‘I hoped I wouldn’t have to, and that asking you nicely might be enough.’

‘Oh, but it isn’t,’ she said, and smiled. ‘Now if you asked me nicely to stay—that might be different.’

‘Indeed it might,’ he said drily. ‘And what’s my next line? Come on in—the water’s fine?’

‘Thank you for the kind invitation,’ she said, studiedly polite. ‘But it may have escaped your attention that I haven’t brought my swimsuit with me.’

‘No.’ He swam in a wide circle. ‘Just as I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your attention that I haven’t brought mine either.’

Not for the world would she have admitted that it had not occurred to her.

‘Oh, but that doesn’t matter,’ she said with assumed nonchalance, thankful that the darkness hid her warm cheeks. ‘And—and I do know what a naked man looks like, you know.’

‘In practice, or merely in theory?’ The gleam of his smile mocked her. ‘Janna Joins the Permissive Society, and other titles. I suppose it makes a change from the Pony Club.’

‘Very amusing,’ she said calmly. ‘Have you heard the one about having the last laugh? It can’t be getting any warmer in that water, and I happen to be sitting on your clothes. All of them.’

‘Right on all counts,’ he agreed reflectively. ‘The situation is a little one-sided, I must admit.’ He swam round again, this time coming right up to the bank. ‘All right, Janna, I resign. Why not join me? It’s a very warm night, and I promise to turn my back like a gentleman if that’s what you’re waiting for.’

She wasn’t altogether certain what she was waiting for. She moistened her lips rather nervously. Dreams and imaginings were one thing; having them translated into quite such realistic terms as a moonlight bathing party for two in the nude, quite another.

‘What’s the matter, Janna?’ She couldn’t see the expression on Rian’s face, but the taunt in his tone was unmistakable. ‘Chicken?’

‘Certainly not,’ she said untruthfully. ‘It—it just looks a bit cold, that’s all.’

He laughed softly. ‘I’ll think of a way of keeping you warm, sweet witch.’

There had to be an answer to that, but Janna couldn’t think of it for the life of her. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she was trembling violently inside. One part of her wanted, childishly, to run, but another, more insidious voice was persuading her to remain.

When she spoke, her voice was higher than usual and oddly breathless.

‘All right,’ she said. She got up slowly, shivering a little although there was barely a hint of a breeze. The water rippled glossily as Rian swam one long, lazy stroke nearer. Her fingers, made suddenly clumsy, hesitated on the buttons of her shirt.

‘You said you’d turn your back,’ she reminded him lamely.

‘If that’s what you want.’ There was a warm persuasive note in his voice, which made her gasp as if he had caressed her. ‘Is it, lovely Janna?’

She had taken two unwary steps towards him before she realised the trap that had been set for her. Steely fingers, cold and wet, clamped round her ankle. Off balance already, she stumbled, and within a second she was flying through the air, or so it seemed, to land in the water in an undignified and painful belly-flop. She came back to the surface, winded and choking, having swallowed half the river in her astonishment.

On the bank, Rian was fastening the belt of his jeans and observing her flounderings with sardonic amusement.

‘I don’t think you’ll ever make the Olympic squad,’ he observed, judicially, pulling his dark sweater over his head. ‘But the local life-saving team might be glad of a volunteer. I’ve heard they prefer them fully dressed.’

‘You bastard!’ she screamed at him.

‘Such language from one so young,’ he said reprovingly. ‘If it’s any consolation to you, I was tempted for a while, and I’m warning you, Janna, stay in your own league from now on.’ He half turned to go. ‘And I meant what I said about keeping you warm. I don’t know how you got here, and I don’t care much. I presume you cycled, or walked, so you can get home the same way—only faster. It’s a balmy enough night. You shouldn’t even catch cold.’ He was gone.