Carved in Stone: Monochrome Destiny (7 page)

It had been
three days since Robyn had last stood in the church yard, but many things had
changed.  Aside from her worry over Kat, the rain had made the ground
increasingly wet, making navigating the tall grass more like traversing a
marsh, but she wanted to get a better look at the headstones, and had come
prepared this time with camera, cleaning equipment, crayons and paper. 
Besides, staying at the cottage gave her too much time to dwell.  She
needed to stay busy.

Following
the direction she had taken on her previous visit, Robyn snapped pictures of
each stone, paying careful attention to those that had piqued her interest
before.  She made rudimentary notes of where each stone stood in relation
to the other features of the churchyard and drew a basic map.  Looking for
the graves she had been unable to read last time, she found a stone that had
writing on it, but was so covered in lichen and moss that she couldn’t make out
the lettering.  The headstone was still darkened by yesterday’s rain, but
that wouldn’t stop her.  Brushing gently across the stone with the soap
mixture she had brought with her, Robyn began to clean off the moss.  The
lichen was more resilient.  Careful not to cause any damage to the ancient
monument, she brushed with a little more force, until eventually she could make
out that this was the grave of someone named ‘
Wilce
’.

Continuing
around the church she stopped at a particularly ornate stone, larger than the
others in the area.  This one was also covered in lichen.  Robyn
could feel the indentation of carvings yet couldn’t read them.  This was
where her visual impairment caused her the most difficulty.  Determined
not to be thwarted in her quest, she used the crayons and paper to take a
rubbing of the inscription.  Words soon formed.  They read

Elizabeth
Truscott

1747-1818

Robyn
immediately recognised the name from the school.  Several of the stones in
the yard bore the same surname and a lot were large and ornately carved. 
The
Truscotts
must have been an important local
family.  Taking time to recheck the Truscott family history on display,
Robyn couldn’t help but notice that the beautifully sculpted monuments for the
older
Truscotts
were not mirrored by the markers for
their offspring.  As years passed, the gravestones became simpler and
therefore less expensive before a sudden surge in flamboyant headstones towards
the last period that the graveyard was in use.  Robyn postulated that the
family had to have fallen on lean times during the nineteenth century before
building their wealth back up again.  It was interesting, but not why she
had been drawn to come there.

Robyn
was looking only for gravestones with more than one name.  They were a
puzzle to be solved and although the mystery would not usually interest Robyn,
it was at least something that would occupy her mind.  She continued
around the graveyard either scrubbing off moss and lichen or using the brass
rubbing technique to see what she couldn’t with the naked eye.

Engrossed
in her work, Robyn had lost all track of time when she found herself crouched
in front of a large, upright slab which had been completely covered in spongy
moss.  She had already unearthed three names listed on the stone as she
carefully washed off the plant material.  The most recent name had been
that of a child, a girl,
aged
eight years old when she
had died with two adult relatives.  Robyn stared at the grey stone
wondering how you coped with a loss so great, when the sun came out from behind
a cloud and shone brilliantly.  The pure, radiant light lit up the grey
stone before her but thin, comparatively black lacerations ripped across the
vision.  As if clawed there, the slashes gouged through the light and
across the newly revealed family like a scar.  Robyn’s skin prickled as
her hairs arose even though she knew the reason for the shadowed scene.  A
sparse limbed tree, left to grow out of control near the wall, was playing
shadows across the stone.  Despite her knowledge, insistent butterflies in
her stomach would not cease their fluttering and somewhere, in the back of her
mind, she became convinced that there was a message within the vision.

Balancing
on the balls of her feet, afraid to touch the stone itself, Robyn stared,
awaiting enlightenment, when the slashes were suddenly replaced by the distinct
shape of a person.

“Can’t
stay away can you?” Deep, sharp and disapproving, the voice was cacophonous
against the silence of the churchyard and very close behind her.

Startled,
Robyn lost her balance and, in the grip of paralysing fear, collapsed to the
ground.

She
cried out as icy water from the sodden grass seeped into her jeans.

God, was she
here to torment him?  Who had put her up to this?  For years this
place had been all but private, a place to come and contemplate, to hide. 
He’d often come here as a child, and on those rare occasions he’d always felt
the solace welcoming, but now, twice in one week, this woman had shattered his
calm.

She
snapped her head up, even as she called out.  It was involuntary, he
realised immediately, as fear showed plainly in her eyes.  Wide and
terrified, her hazel glare captured him as none other ever had.  She was
dangerous.

Robyn
let out a sigh filled with both relief and growing frustration before trying to
get up from the ground.

Andrew
stepped back to give her room and was more than amused when she slipped back
into the mud.  In his mind, it was only recompense for her destroying his
pleasant afternoon.

“Are
you going to help me up or just stand there?” It was a challenge.  The
vehemence in her voice could not be misinterpreted.

Andrew
reluctantly held out a hand, chivalry outweighing his growing need to get away
from her.

She
reached out and grabbed him, and Andrew watched in fascination as her eyes
glazed over and her mouth parted, just a little.  He hadn’t wanted to
consider her mouth, had purposefully avoided looking at the plump softness of her
bottom lip.  Now it was all he could do to avoid pulling her to him and
devastating her with his own mouth over that precious pink one.

Pulling
her to standing quickly, Andrew pulled his hand away, leaving Robyn to stumble
forwards before she righted herself.

He had all but
thrown her into a standing position, Robyn thought as she stumbled two steps
forwards from the abrupt yank that Andrew had given her.  She was still
recovering from his touch, from a heat that smashed through any and all
barriers to take complete possession.  In contrast to his cold persona,
Andrew’s touch was wild with life.  It warmed her to the core as it washed
into her skin, crawled into her bones and radiated inside her as it moved
through sinew and tissue.  Now that it was gone, she found herself bereft
without it, bereft and cold.

Finally
stable, Robyn turned around, aware that her anger was barely contained, but
before she could let out the bitter stream of words that were forming in her
furious mind, the wind whipped up the cove and licked across her soaking
legs.  Shivers pulsed through her and made her gasp in a breath.

“You’re
cold.”

Yes,
she was cold.  He had no idea how cold after such overwhelming warmth, but
she wasn’t going to admit it.  Breathing deeply, she found her
voice.  “I must get going.  It’s a long walk back.”

She was
incredible and indescribably stupid.  Her stance would have been a solid
wall of stubborn if it hadn’t been for the shudders that vibrated her entire
body.  The walk back to Holbrook would take a good half an hour under the
best of circumstances, but after yesterday’s rain, he could bet it would take
double.  The old path had never been much and today it would be a muddy
quagmire.  She would freeze well before she got near the old
cottage.  That, he couldn’t allow.

As
Robyn bent down to grab her bag, Andrew stepped forwards and grabbed her upper
arm.  “You’re not walking back like that.”  He knew it was a command,
but this woman would listen to no less.  “You’re coming with me, at least
until you’re dry.”

“You
can’t order me around.  I’m not one of your pupils.”  She threw off
his hold and he watched as her fists bunched at her sides.

Exasperating
woman, did she not know what it would do to him to have her in his home? 
Yet he could no more allow her to foolishly walk home in her condition than he
could pass an injured child without attempting to help. “If you were one of my
pupils, you’d know better than to argue.”

Turning
his head to face the beach, Andrew whistled for Max.  He knew the canine
would be frolicking in the waves.  It was his favourite pastime after all,
but he needed to get control of this situation and do it quickly.  Robyn,
and Max, were both going back to get warm and dry.

Max
bounded up with his wet tennis ball in his mouth and ran immediately to
Robyn.  Wagging his tail and panting, he had a look of delight in his
great big eyes as he dropped the ball at her feet.  Without thought, she
bent and patted him on the head before rubbing behind his ears.  Andrew
felt rage bubble, firstly at the disloyalty from the mutt and secondly at the
warmth Robyn gave to the hound, when all she gave him was anger.

“I
would suggest that you start walking and ignore the damn dog.” Andrew
spat.  He would not be swayed.

He
saw it in her eyes, before she made the move, defiance.  She bent to pick
up her pack, but he was quicker, grabbing it and swinging it over his shoulder
and out of her reach.  A grin of satisfaction pulled at his lips.

“Are
you this rude to everybody?”  Her body was stiff with frustration. 
She was indeed a stubborn headed mule, but on this occasion, Robyn Darrow had
met more than her match.

“You
will find
,
should you wish to enquire, that my manners
are impeccable and have never been questioned.”

“I
find that difficult to believe.”  The wind whipped in the cove again and
had her slam her mouth shut before her teeth could chatter.  It took
immense control not to laugh.

“If
I appear rude, it is because you make me so, Miss Darrow.  Now stop
arguing and get moving.”

“Of
all the . .
.”                                         

“Even
I would perceive it rude to leave you to freeze to death whilst foolishly attempting
to walk home in wet clothing.  As I wouldn’t want my manners to be further
put under scrutiny, I insist you take my offer and accompany me.”  Knowing
that she stared with piercing rage because he had cut her off, Andrew turned,
Robyn’s backpack swinging over his shoulder, and walked away with Max at his
side.

He
didn’t take three strides before he heard her fall into step.

Andrew walked,
with the dog, down to the shingle and started toward the headland on the far
side of the cove.  Robyn trotted to keep up with his long stride.  As
shingle turned to rock, she noticed that the cliff face to her right drew up
higher and higher the further around the headland they walked, it revealed a
cave.  Ragged crags surrounded its entrance but the cave floor was made of
the same smooth round pebbles that lined the beach.  The opening narrow
and the interior black, it looked like an open mouth as they walked past. 
There was a warning sign bolted to the rock above the entrance and Max sniffed
at the opening but didn’t enter the dark interior.

A
few more steps around the cliff and Robyn caught her first view of Andrew’s
house.

Nestled
halfway up the inlet, it was larger than Holbrook cottage and could be called a
house, but was still small, quaint and characterful.  Like her own place,
it was double fronted with the entrance right in the middle of the building,
but this door was surrounded by a small wooden porch, built to keep the wind at
bay.   Four small sash windows adorned the front façade, their woodwork
painted white to match the
porch,
they stared out in
perfect symmetry.  The house had a slate roof that was edged on either
side by a small chimney.  Two terracotta pots adorned each and one of
those now produced a column of white smoke.  Surrounded by trees and backed
into a rocky cliff, the house was enveloped by a natural picturesque landscape
and seemed tiny compared to the majesty of the surroundings.  With the
smallest of gardens at the front, laid entirely to paving slabs, it was
beautiful, homely, and completely the opposite of what she had been expecting.

Andrew’s
car was parked just outside the gate. 
Polished so
highly that it reflected the sky, the black RS3 stuck out as modern against its
surroundings.
  A gravelled track led away from the house and up the
hill to what, Robyn presumed, was the road.  They crossed this track to
enter the gate.  Further proving his good manners, Andrew allowed Robyn
through first.

Half
an hour later, Robyn found herself huddled on one of two sofas, wrapped in a
robe that was too large for her.  The fireplace glowed as the coal
smouldered to let out the last of its heat, but it was not the fire that
reddened her cheeks.  It was the fact that she was naked beneath the
cotton cloth.