Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
The next day, Ryan and I return to the estate to do a final walk through. The snow stopped last night and the forecast says we’re now heading into the land of rain, so he wants to get a few more pictures of it white and untouched.
We call into the house, and find Roberts busy at work in the kitchen, frying up bacon and brewing tea.
‘Good morning!’ he says brightly, apparently completely untouched by the night before. ‘Help yourselves – I just need to take a mug through to Martin Byrne. He seems to have spent the night sleeping beneath the piano, and he tells me he’s got a bad case of “the fear”, whatever that might be.’
Ryan laughs. ‘It means he has a terrible hangover, with a side helping of remorse! I’d add a slug of whiskey to that, Roberts, then start making loud noises – he’ll soon clear off.’
‘I see. Perhaps I’ll play the piano to encourage his recovery then. Charles is upstairs in his office if you need him, and Georgie is… missing in action. I suspect she’s trying to avoid the clean-up, and as Jasper is gone as well, she’ll be on the grounds somewhere. If you see her, please remind her she has an appointment in an hour’s time.’
We promise that we will, and head on out to enjoy what might be the last crisp, clear day we have for a while. The sun is sparkling on the snow, and the sky is so blue it looks like it’s been painted on. Birds are chirruping and fluttering, and everything feels peaceful as we stroll.
Ryan takes pictures, and I snap some shots of my own on my phone to send to June and the folks back home, and we chat about our upcoming trip to Cork City.
He’s flying back in a few days, and I’m going with him. I’ve booked a hotel despite the offer of staying at his sister’s place, because I want to have my independence. Eileen’s cousin Moira has come up with some information about Nanna Nora’s life before she moved to the US, and I’m excited to see the place she came from. My dad is even more excited.
‘So, does everyone go back to Ireland at this time of year?’ I ask as we walk.
‘Not everyone. Cormac and Orla stay because of the pub. Mary Catherine and her tribe all decamp back to Wexford, and Eileen goes to Dublin – but not until Christmas Day itself, because she’s finishing off all her orders until then.’
‘Wow. I didn’t even know there’d be flights.’
‘Not many, but it’s a lot of fun – the Christmas Day flights are always a good craic. What will you do, Cassie, on the day?’
‘I’m not sure. Charles has invited me up to the house, which is nice. But I think I might be just as happy in Whimsy, with Eejit.’
It strikes me as I say this how far I’ve come, and how good this whole trip has been for me. There are some obvious advantages – no sneering Suzie, no sitting around missing Nanna Nora. No more watching of the dreaded wedding video, which I have decided to delete for good. No more feeling sorry for myself, basically.
‘He’s taken a shine to you, he has. Eejit. Never known him get so close to anyone.’
‘Are you jealous?’ I ask, nudging him. ‘You were the alpha dog before I arrived!’
He pretends to be offended, waves his fists in the air, and says: ‘I’m still the alpha dog, and don’t you forget it, woman!’
The effect is spoiled by the fact that he’s so busy showing off he accidentally knocks against a tree branch, and the dislodged snow tumbles down all over him.
‘Alpha snowman more like,’ I say, laughing as he freezes, his head covered in the stuff.
He’s busy swiping it off when my phone rings. It’s Charles.
‘Hi – are you out on the estate?’ he asks.
‘Yes, we are. Everything okay?’
‘I’m sure it is, but we seem to have a bit of a situation with Georgie. Her therapist is here, but she is not.’
I glance at the time, surprised to see that we’ve been out for so long. Charles sounds worried, and I say: ‘Could she just be, I don’t know, avoiding her? I know she said she was hoping to get her to resign before Christmas!’
‘That could well be it – but she’s not answering her phone either. This isn’t unusual, she does like to take off and roam, but she seemed tired this morning after all the excitement.’
Ryan raises his eyebrows at me, obviously picking up on the change in mood, and I say: ‘Okay. We’ll go and look for her. Do you have a tracker on her phone, one of those friends and family things?’
‘No, which now seems like a foolish choice. I’m going to send the therapist away, and ring round some of her friends just in case.’
‘I’d try a kid called Ollie Kerr, lives on a farm near Marshington Grange. Sounded like she had little bit of a crush on him.’
‘How do you know that and I don’t? Am I the world’s worst father?’
‘Don’t be stupid – no teenage girl is going to talk to her dad about stuff like that! Look, let us know if you hear anything, okay?’
I fill Ryan in, and he stands with his hands on his hips studying the landscape. I know he’s very fond of Georgie, and can see how concerned he is.
‘Shall we try the tower?’ he suggests. ‘She might be in there, having a ciggie and hiding? And if not, we’ll get a good view around the place.’
It’s a good idea, and we strike out across the snowy paths, reaching the folly about twenty minutes later. I shout her name as we go inside, running up the stone steps and hoping to see a puff of smoke in the air. I sag in disappointment when I find the place empty, but join Ryan at one of the windows. Together we move from one to another, him using his camera zoom and me using my eyes, trying to spot any sign of her.
‘Nothing,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘Has he checked if her car’s gone?’
I quickly message to ask, and receive a reply telling me her car is still in the garage, and that Ollie Kerr was a bust. I try to cast my mind back to the first day I met her, and the little tour she gave me of her favourite places on the estate.
‘Where’s the pond?’ I ask Ryan, staring out at the grounds.
‘I think there’s a few. Which one?’
‘It had steep sides, and reed beds, and she said she used to like hanging out there.’
He nods and goes back to his survey, looking out in a westerly direction.
‘I think I know the one you mean. Come on, it’s worth a try.’
It takes us another twenty minutes to reach the pond, and we shout Georgie’s name as we go, me keeping an eye on my phone. I’m hoping for a message saying she’s been found, but when nothing lands, I start to feel increasingly worried. Georgie has seemed in good spirits recently, but I know she has issues that lurk beneath the surface.
The rising sense of panic is of no use to me, so I try to breathe through it as we climb over snowdrifts and check beneath every dense tree and hedge we pass.
As we get nearer to the pond, I hear a faint cry. I stop, hold Ryan back and gesture for him to be quiet. We stand still, and I shout: ‘Georgie! Are you here?’
‘Yes! I’m in the pond! Please, please help me!’
Ryan takes off, his big boots eating up the distance, scurrying through the long, frosted grass and coming to a stop at the top of the steeply sloping side. I catch up, and stare on in horror at what we see.
Georgie is in the middle of the pond, which is coated in thin shards of shattered ice. She’s keeping her head above the water, and has Jasper held high in her arms, trying to keep him clear of it. The puppy is whining and wriggling, pawing at her face in distress.
‘My foot is caught!’ she yells. ‘I can’t move at all, and I’m f-f-f-freezing!’
Ryan doesn’t hesitate – he strips off his fleece jacket, unties his boots, and gallops down the steep bank of the pond, kicking his way through the snow and the vegetation. He leaps right in, and I hear him gasp as it soaks through his clothes.
‘It’s okay, Georgie, I’m coming!’ he cries, splashing through the frigid water, pushing aside chunks of ice to get to her.
I can see that her lips are blue, and her skin is pure white. Her hair is a drenched trail spread out behind her, and every part of her is shaking.
Ryan takes a deep breath and dives down beneath the surface. I hold my breath with him, tense until he emerges again.
‘Cassie!’ he shouts up towards me. ‘She’s proper trapped, one of her feet is basically tied up by the weeds. Look in my jacket pocket, there, find my Swiss Army knife!’
I’m not sure what that is, and my fingers fumble uselessly in his pocket. Eventually I just tip everything out – car keys, a wallet, and finally a little portable tool that seems to combine a knife, screwdriver and corkscrew. This must be it, I think, and I turn back to Ryan.
He’s standing shivering in the water, talking soothingly to Georgie, then taking Jasper from her grasp. Her arms immediately slump down, splashing onto the broken ice. He clutches the fretting puppy close to his chest, and strides to the side, water splattering around him. As soon as he puts the dog down on solid ground, Jasper starts running around in a circle, shaking his coat, and barking. The poor thing is terrified, but still doesn’t want to leave Georgie.
Ryan holds up his hands, and gestures for me to throw the knife. I’m worried I’ll mess up, that I will miss, that it will sink to the murky bed of the pond and never be seen again. He lurches nimbly to one side and catches it in both hands, heading straight back to Georgie.
Another deep breath, and down he goes again. More heartbeats, more worry, more fear – for both of them. The pond is not deep enough for them to drown in, but the cold could kill them, I know.
Eventually he comes back up, spluttering and sucking in air, telling Georgie to try and move her foot now.
‘I don’t th-th-think I can!’ she stammers. ‘My whole body is dead. I can’t feel anything at all!’
I can hear the terror in her voice, and Ryan acts immediately. He puts his arms around her, and physically hoists her towards his body. She’s a tall girl, but he manages to scoop her up, the effort obvious on his face as he grimaces and starts to take slow, waterlogged steps back towards the edge of the pond.
‘Call Charles!’ he shouts up to me. ‘Tell him to get as close as he can in the car, and to bring blankets and hot drinks!’
I do as I am told, cutting Charles off when he tries to keep me on the phone, because Ryan and Georgie need me. She can barely move, and the steep climb back up is beyond her. Ryan shoves her upwards, and I lie down on my belly and reach out for her. When I finally grasp her hands, her fingers are blue from frost, dangling lifelessly in my grip. I pull and Ryan pushes, and eventually, inch by agonising inch, we have her out. Jasper races up towards us, trembling and licking at her face. It’s covered in scratches where he panicked and clawed her.
I start to rub her hands, pull off my own jacket and slip it around her shoulders. She gazes up at me, eyes bleary, and says: ‘I’m so s-s-sorry…’
‘No need to be sorry. Just stay with us now, okay? Your dad’s on his way, everything’s going to be fine.’
She nods as the dog nuzzles her, and Ryan lays his fleece on top of her. He’s soaked through and his teeth are chattering, and he really needs to warm up – but I know there’s no point in telling him this. I know he won’t listen, and neither would I.
I hear the sound of car doors slamming, and sigh in relief as the cavalry arrives. Charles runs towards us, followed at a slower pace by Roberts, and both men are carrying bundles of blankets. Charles pushes us aside, kneels in the snow by his daughter, and immediately starts to wrap her up. Roberts passes him a flask, and she manages a few sips of whatever is inside.
‘It’s okay, darling, you’ll be okay… we’re here now. What happened?’
He sits her up and wraps his arms around her, sharing his body warmth, her wet hair plastered across his chest.
She looks up at him with slightly more alert eyes, and says: ‘I fell in the bloody pond!’
‘You fell? You weren’t trying to… hurt yourself, were you?’
‘No, Dad, no – I promise! I know the ice isn’t thick enough to walk on, but the stupid dog didn’t! He just r-r-ran off, straight onto it, and he was right in the middle when I heard it cracking! He can’t swim yet, and I couldn’t leave him, could I? I couldn’t just stand by and watch him die…’
I realise that I’m crying, the tears freezing on my eyelashes as they escape. She had to stand by and watch Vanessa die, and was obviously determined not to let that happen again. The agony on Charles’s face is clear as he clasps her to him, kisses her face, tells her again that everything will be fine, that he loves her, that he’s got her. That she’s safe.
Ryan meets my eyes, and we share a sad look. He knows her history as well, and it’s heartbreaking.
Roberts puts his hand on Charles’s shoulder, and says: ‘We should get her to the hospital, Charles. It looks like she’s on the mend, but we need to make sure she’s okay.’
‘Yes… of course, we should do that,’ Charles replies, clambering to his feet, his daughter still in his arms. He’s cradling her like a baby, and I wonder if he will ever let her go.
He seems to remember that we’re there, and looks directly at both of us.
‘I can’t thank you enough. I’m going to drive her to the hospital – it’ll be quicker than calling an ambulance. Will you be all right?’
‘Off you go,’ Ryan says firmly. ‘We’ll be grand. I need to dry off, and we’ll see you there, yeah?’
Charles nods, clearly in shock, and starts to stumble away towards the car. Roberts lingers for a moment, taking in our bedraggled appearance and Ryan’s shivers.
‘Get back to the house, you two,’ he says. ‘Get showered and warm, and help yourself to anything you need. If you could take Jasper that would be helpful. Allegra is there somewhere, but we haven’t told her about any of this, so tread carefully until we know Georgina is well. Thank you, again. I shall be rooting out medals to present to you both later – I’m sure we have some knocking around.’
The walk back to the manor is excruciating. It’s bad enough for me, damp and without a jacket, and for Ryan it must be even worse – his clothes are clinging to him, and when I hold his hand, I’m worried that he should be going to the hospital too. We take turns carrying Jasper, who is very loudly heartbroken at being parted from Georgie and keeps trying to run away to find her.
We make our way minute by slow minute, moving at a steady jog, and I feel a huge sense of relief when I see the terrace come into view. We run faster once we see it, and soon we are inside. I find a bowl of water and some food for Jasper, and give him a rub down with the kitchen towel. He seems fine, mainly because Georgie kept him out of the water I guess.
I pour us both a big glass of whiskey from the decanters in the Blue Room, then lead Ryan up the stairs to the suite that used to be mine.
‘Get your clothes off,’ I say, ‘and get in the shower. I’ll start the fire.’
He manages a suggestive smile, and says: ‘I’ve waited a long time for you to ask me to get my kit off, Cassie…’
‘Yeah. Well, your lips are turning blue, and that’s not the sexiest of looks – go on, away with ye!’
I lay on the Irish with the last part, and shoo him towards the en-suite. I soon have the fire roaring in the grate, and wrap myself up in the comforter for extra warmth. I hear the water flowing in the bathroom, and after a few minutes I start to regain feeling in my numbed face. I sit on the edge of the bed, and my heart is racing so fast I can almost hear it.
That was so close, I think, to being a disaster. I don’t know how long Georgie had been stuck there, but I do know that if we hadn’t turned up, it could all have been a lot worse. I will be fine, and so will Ryan – we just have to hope that she is as well. As the adrenaline starts to flood through my system at the thought of what might have been, I rub my hands together, tell myself that she is okay. That the worst did not happen.
I sit like that for a while, letting myself settle, focusing on the crackling of the fire and the sensation of blood running into my chilled extremities. I need a shower too, but it can wait. Everything can wait.
The sound of the shower stops, and after a few moments Ryan emerges in a cloud of steam. His hair is wet against his neck, and he is wearing nothing but a white towel knotted around his waist. I stare at him, transfixed by the shining skin, the curve of muscle on his torso. The trail of hair that runs from his chest to his waist. He stares back at me, standing proud and unashamed, and raises an eyebrow.
I’m preparing myself for some flirtatious comment when the door to the room flies open. Allegra strides in, still wearing a Japanese-style robe, her feet encased in plaid slippers that don’t match it at all.
She stands still, and her eyes go from Ryan to me and back again . Oh Lord , I think, please let her remember who we are – I’m not up to a sword fight right now.
‘My goodness,’ she says eventually, smiling as she eats up the sight of Ryan in his towel. ‘I haven’t seen anything like that in quite a while!’