Summer Of The Raven. Sara Craven

she needed now was someone to share it with, but Antonia had already made it patently clear that the rugged beauty of their surroundings had not the slightest appeal as far as she was concerned. Nor was she suited with the narrowness of the road they were now travelling on, or the frequency of its bends. She had grumbled constantly since leaving the motorway, and Rowan felt wryly that her attitude augured ill for what lay ahead of them.

      It had been a difficult few weeks. Rowan had informed the college principal that she would not be returning after the Easter break, and he had not been pleased at the news. He had tried hard to persuade her to stay on and complete her course, but she had merely said that her family circumstances made it impossible at the moment, and left him to draw his own conclusions.

      Rowan had not seen Carne Maitland again, although she had no doubt that he had visited the flat in her absence. There was occasionally the faint aroma of cigar smoke in the air when she returned. From odd remarks that Antonia let fall, she guessed that he had been as good as his word in settling her debts at cards, yet her stepmother seemed to have very little notion of what was going to be demanded of her in return. When Rowan asked the size of the house they were going to, and if any local help was employed, Antonia appeared vague to the point of indifference.

      ‘But you must have some idea,’ Rowan said at last. ‘Do you know whether you’re expected to cook as well as organise the housework?’

      Antonia shrugged. ‘I haven’t the least idea. I’ll worry about that when it happens.’

      ‘But you can’t cook,’ Rowan pointed out. ‘The whole thing is utterly ludicrous! Does your cousin realise this?’

      ‘I don’t know whether he does or not.’ Antonia sounded bored. ‘This was his idea, not mine, if you remember. Anyway, if dreary old Sybilla has managed all this time, I’m sure we can.’

      ‘We?’ Rowan raised her eyebrows. ‘Just leave me out of the reckoning, Antonia. I’m going to Ravensmere strictly under protest, to safeguard your income from the estate.’

      Antonia smiled lazily and leaned across to pat her cheek. ‘I know, sweetie, but all the same, you wouldn’t leave me in the lurch. And you can hardly live under Carne’s roof without doing something to earn your bed and board. By the way—–’ she reached for her handbag and fumbled in it, ‘this is for you.’

      It was a cheque, and when Rowan looked at the amount it was made out for and the uncompromising signature at the bottom, she felt her brain reel.

      ‘What’s this for?’ she demanded huskily.

      ‘To enable you to do some shopping,’ Antonia said calmly. ‘Carne will be doing quite a lot of entertaining, I imagine, and he won’t want you to be lurking round in corners looking as if you’ve been dressed by War on Want.’

      Rowan’s face was burning. ‘I see.’

      For a moment she looked as if she was going to crumple the cheque up in her hand, and Antonia, alarmed, reached forward and snatched it away.

      ‘Don’t be stupid,’ she said sharply. ‘Not even you can pretend it isn’t nice to have something to spend on yourself. You can’t spend the rest of your life in jeans and sweaters. Get your hair done. Find someone to do a rescue job on those nails.’

      ‘Look my age, you mean?’ Rowan enquired ironically, and Antonia had the grace to look embarrassed.

      ‘Not exactly,’ she said shortly. ‘But you could try and get away from this waif and stray image. For heaven’s sake, Rowan, there must be something you want to buy for yourself!’

      And there was, of course, though Rowan doubted whether the sturdy portable typewriter in its carrying case was exactly what the donor of the cheque had intended. She had expected a further tussle with Antonia too, but her stepmother seemed to have retreated into some private world of discontent, and would hardly have noticed, Rowan thought, if she had shaved her head and painted her skin with woad.

      Antonia offered no explanation for her glumness, but Rowan suspected the fact that they were travelling to Ravensmere without Carne Maitland’s personal escort might have something to do with it. The estate car they were travelling in was a new one, and had been bought for Antonia’s use, although she did not seem particularly impressed by the fact. Rowan guessed she would have preferred to travel in the sleek sports model she had glimpsed at the flat that first evening. She was thankful that they had been given something less powerful. Antonia was not a bad driver, but she was inclined to be reckless and impatient when conditions did not suit her, and Rowan grimaced inwardly as she contemplated what these latter stages of their journey could have been like.

      ‘Well, here’s Ravensmere at last,’ Antonia commented petulantly. ‘What a dead and alive hole! How much farther now, for heaven’s sake?’

      Rowan shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’

      She thought Ravensmere was an attractive village. It was very small—a few houses built of the inevitable slate, a pub with shuttered windows and creeper-hung walls, and a combined village store and post office—but it was clean and well kept and the cottage gardens burgeoned with spring flowers.

      Rowan leaned forward and stared around her. ‘Is your cousin’s house actually in the village?’ She felt a twinge of nervousness assail her at the knowledge that they had nearly arrived at their destination. The palms of her hands felt damp and she wiped them surreptitiously on her denim-clad thighs. She wished very much that she was safely back in London, and that she had ignored all Antonia’s pleas and arguments. Oh, why had she ever agreed to come all this way to take part in what amounted to little more than a charade? And at the same moment it occurred to her that she knew exactly why and she felt a sudden warmth invade her body that had nothing to do with the spring sunlight. Fool, she castigated herself silently.

      ‘The house is called Raven’s Crag,’ Antonia was saying impatiently. ‘Wind your window down and ask someone. It’s getting late and I don’t want to be driving around in these mountains once the sun has gone down.’

      There didn’t seem to be anyone about that they could ask, and eventually Antonia stopped outside the shop, and told Rowan brusquely to enquire there. ‘And get me some cigarettes while you’re about it,’ she added.

      The shop was small, but its proprietor had clearly decided not to let that stand in his way. Rowan thought she had never seen such a wide range of goods or so many different brand names. Every surface, every nook and cranny carried its full complement, and even the grille over the Post Office counter in the corner was plastered with posters and notices.

      There was a young girl wearing a white overall behind the counter, transferring toffee bars from a box on to a plastic display tray, and she smiled when she saw Rowan. ‘Yes, please?’

      In spite of the range, they didn’t have the exact brand of cigarettes that Antonia wanted, so Rowan bought the next best thing, knowing that she would be faced with more complaints when she returned to the car. Then she asked where Raven’s Crag was.

      There was open curiosity in the girl’s eyes as she studied Rowan. ‘You mean Mr Maitland’s house? You want to take the back road, and bear to the right. It’s a good climb, mind.’

      The shop bell tinkled behind Rowan as she closed the door and walked back to the car. Something made her turn and look over her shoulder and she saw that the girl was peering through the crowded window watching her go, and that an older woman had joined her.

      Rowan frowned slightly. It was true that Ravensmere was off the beaten tourist track, but surely the local inhabitants weren’t so unused to the sight of strangers? She had intended to mention it to Antonia as she got back into the car, but the fuss her stepmother kicked up over the cigarettes drove it out of her mind.

      ‘God, what a dump!’ Antonia stormed, putting the car in gear with a hideous screech. ‘It wouldn’t take much for me to turn right round and go back to London!’

      ‘Well, why don’t we?’ Rowan said quickly. ‘This is never going to work, Antonia,