to teach her seemed to regard her as being mentally subnormal.’
Joanna reserved comment. If yesterday’s little fiasco was anything to go by, they might well have had reason to suppose the child backward, and she had yet to make any real contact with her.
‘I really think we should be on our way,’ Jake added now, starting down the stairs. ‘Don’t look so alarmed, Miss Seton, I don’t expect miracles.’ He paused halfway and looked back at her. ‘But nor do I expect you to treat the job as temporary, something with which to fill your time until a more appealing proposition comes along.’
Joanna held up her head. ‘I wouldn’t do that, Mr Sheldon.’
‘No?’ He regarded her sceptically for another disturbing moment. ‘Don’t you think you’re going to find it rather—boring here, away from the company of your friends?’
Joanna forced herself to begin the descent. ‘You don’t seem to want me to stay, Mr Sheldon,’ she remarked quietly, calling his bluff, and without another word he turned away, his grim mouth evidence of the opinion she was confirming.
To Joanna’s surprise, a dusty green Range Rover was parked in the cobbled yard outside the house, and Jake indicated that she should get inside. As she did so, she noticed an old man leaning on the wall beside the gates, and guessed it was Matt Coulston even before Jake threw a terse instruction to him. Then he climbed into the vehicle beside her, slammed his door, and started the engine.
‘It’s two miles across country,’ he explained shortly, in answer to her silent enquiry, ‘but it’s more than twice that distance by road.’
Joanna nodded, looking out of the side window as they turned out of the gates, but she was aware of the old man’s inquisitive stare as the Rover bounced up the track towards the road. It was a cool autumn morning, but the sun was quickly warming the ground, dispersing the heavy dew, and causing wisps of steam to rise from the hedgerows. It gave an added depth to the gold-swept landscape, the bare fells responding with shades of green and purple and dark sienna. She had heard of the beauty of the Lake District, but this was her first experience of it, and her antipathy towards her employer melted beneath its insidious appeal.
Through the copse, Jake stopped the Rover and got out to open the gate, but after he had driven through, Joanna pushed open her door. ‘I’ll close it,’ she said, jumping down on to the track, and then flushed impatiently as her boot landed in a muddy pool. Still, she ignored the stains it splattered on the leg of her pants, and climbed back in again after completing her task, jaw clenched, ready to do battle if he made any sarcastic comment. He didn’t, though she thought she detected a faintly ironic twist to his mouth, but she relaxed again as they reached the lane and turned towards Ravensmere.
Ravensmere was one of the smaller lakes, and the village of the same name nestling at its foot was small and compact, with narrow streets running down to the lakeside. There were two hotels facing the jetty, and several cottages advertising accommodation, and rowing boats pulled up on the shingle, deserted now that the season was virtually over.
Jake drove along the lake shore, skirted the village, and after driving across a narrow hump-backed bridge, emerged on to the road to Heronsfoot. The traffic was brisker on this stretch of highway, connecting as it eventually did with the main trunk road south, but presently they turned off again on to a lane that gave way to a hikers’ track, winding steadily upward until they reached a shelving plateau. Looking across the wide expanse of the valley spread out below them, Joanna suddenly realised that the stream at its foot was the same stream she had seen from her bedroom window at Ravengarth. They must have driven round in a semi-circle, and they were now some distance up the fell that faced north-east across the valley.
‘Recognise it?’ Jake said, reaching round into the back of the vehicle and pulling out a pair of thick leather gloves. ‘Here; put these on. You may have to use your hands, and I’d hate that soft white skin to get blistered.’
Joanna pursed her lips and looked at him, but he merely dropped the gloves into her lap and thrust open his door. The draught of cold air his exit permitted to enter the car made her realise how much colder it was here up on the fell, and with a grimace she put on the gloves and joined him outside.
‘Ready?’ he asked, looking down at her quizzically, and she nodded her head.
‘As I’ll ever be,’ she responded, holding out her hands for his inspection. ‘Aren’t you afraid I’ll have a major accident with these? They’re far too big for me!’
‘They’re not for climbing,’ he retorted, turning up the collar of his jacket. ‘Going up it’s quite easy, but coming down on loose shale can overbalance you. It’s easier if you squat on your hands.’
Joanna hunched her shoulders. ‘If you say so,’ she submitted, and with a faint arching of his brows he strode away.
They climbed a rocky incline and started up a steeper slope of scree, where tiny springs provided natural irrigation for the gorse and heather that grew on the lower slopes. A few stray sheep voiced their objections as they trotted out of their path, and a hawk hanging in the air some way above them seemed to be speculating on their possible destination.
Joanna was panting before they had climbed a hundred feet. Shopping expeditions in Oxford Street and disco dancing until the early hours were poor substitutes for real exercise, and she was glad Jake was ahead of her and therefore could not hear her laboured breathing.
About halfway up the slope, another outcrop hid the roof of a wooden hut, and Jake glanced round to see if she was with him before vaulting over the projecting face. The mist was still lingering above them, veiling the upper slopes like a shroud, and it was not difficult to imagine how easy it would be to miss their way in its blanketing folds. Struggling up behind Jake, Joanna was selfconsciously aware of her red face and trembling knees, and she guessed he was not deceived by her attempt at composure.
‘This is it,’ he said, and she glanced round automatically, alarmed to see how small the Range Rover looked from their superior height.
‘Is—is she there?’ she asked, striving to regain her breath, and he shrugged his broad shoulders before swinging down the narrow gully.
Joanna heard the dog barking as Jake approached, and presently a small figure appeared from behind the hut. Her own relief was tempered by the realisation that she was about to be properly introduced to her charge, but Jake had evidently no such misgivings. He swung the child up into his arms as the dog appeared to leap excitedly about them, and then after a brief conversation which Joanna could not hear, he turned with the child still in his arms, to climb the track back to where she was waiting.
Joanna felt an unbearable sense of disquiet as they approached. She half wished she had not succumbed to the anxiety in her employer’s face and had waited back at the house, but it was too late now to have such thoughts. Instead she endeavoured to adopt an expression that was neither severe nor ingratiating, and squashed the unworthy suspicion that in Jakes’s shoes she would have shown a little more anger and a little less understanding.
He set the child on her feet beside Joanna, and she looked down at her somewhat unwillingly. She could not forget their previous exchanges, in the copse and in the hall at Ravengarth, and she was quite prepared to meet aggression with aggression. But Anya’s expression was almost angelically mild, and encountering wide blue eyes, innocent of all malice, Joanna wondered if she could have mistaken
