The Sun At Midnight. Sandra Field

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      CHAPTER THREE

      AN HOUR later Jud and Kathrin reached her tent, a brave yellow triangle on the hillside. Neither of them had spoken a word since they had stopped by the stream; while Kathrin had forced herself to an outward composure, her emotions were still in a turmoil. Ignoring Jud, she set up the viewing scope on its tripod and scanned the width of the valley. ‘No sign of them,’ she said finally. ‘That means at least another two hours to get beyond those cliffs. We’ll have to check the river valley as we go.’

      ‘I think we should eat here,’ Jud said.

      ‘Fine by me,’ she answered indifferently, fiddling with the knobs on the tripod.

      ‘Look at me, Kit.’

      ‘I hate it when you call me that name.’

      ‘It’s what I’ve always called you and I plan to continue.’ He went on in a level voice, ‘I had to tell you about Ivor—I didn’t want you meeting him the same way you did me.’

      ‘Oh, sure,’ she said sarcastically, ‘you’re the soul of kindness.’

      He ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. ‘I’m damned if I’m going to spend the next four days trading insults with you! It’s a waste of time and this place asks better of us. Let’s for heaven’s sake call a truce.’

      ‘I don’t trust you,’ she blurted.

      Jud flinched. But his recovery was so quick that Kathrin was left to wonder if she had imagined the pain that had so fleetingly tightened his features. He said irritably, ‘Then let’s bring it down to its lowest level. We’re the only people within ten miles of each other—surely we can at least have a little civilised conversation as we eat.’

      It seemed a sensible request. Not that she felt sensible. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said.

      ‘Good. If you want to take down your tent, I’ll get supper.’

      Anything that kept them busy with separate tasks was fine with Kathrin. She cleaned the dirt from the tent pegs, slid the poles together, and folded everything into a neat bundle, which she stowed on top of her backpack. Then, once again, knowing how easily a lone animal could be missed, she traversed the valley with her scope.

      Supper was Pam’s beef stew with home-made bread, and was eaten largely in silence, for Jud, despite his request for civilised conversation, had withdrawn into himself. Seated on a boulder, Kathrin scrubbed her plate clean with a piece of bread. ‘I wonder why food tastes so good out here?’ she ventured.

      For a moment she thought Jud hadn’t heard her; he was gazing across the valley, and in profile looked more like the boy she had grown up with than the stranger he had become. Then he said, so quietly that she had to strain for the words, ‘Perhaps because there’s room to breathe.’

      In swift compassion she said, ‘How did you ever survive being in prison, Jud? Five days in a classroom used to be more than you could take.’

      ‘I went so deep inside myself that nothing and no one could touch me. I’d have gone mad otherwise.’

      He had spoken without emphasis, in a way that was completely convincing. She remembered the slow seep of blood through his blue shirt all those years ago and the stoicism with which he had borne her awkward ministrations, and wanted to weep. It was on the tip of her tongue to cry, ‘Why did you do it?’, for this was the one question whose answer had always evaded her. But she quelled her words before they could be spoken. He had called for a truce, and she had said she did not trust him. It was not for her to ask that question.

      Her voice credibly calm, she said, ‘Then this is the right place for you to be.’

      He glanced over at her and almost conversationally said, ‘You know, you’ve grown into a very beautiful woman, Kit.’

      Her jaw dropped. ‘Who, me?’

      A rare smile lit up his face. ‘No one else here.’

      Ivor had never told her she was beautiful. Ivor had favoured exquisitely groomed blondes, and if they were rich, all the better. ‘I’ve got freckles.’

      He poured boiling water out of the pot on the little gas stove into two mugs containing instant coffee, and passed her one. ‘Is that a crime?’

      ‘Women in Vogue don’t wear fleece pyjamas and don’t have freckles.’

      ‘But the women in—’ He broke off. ‘Good lord, where’s my camera?’

      As he grabbed for his pack, she looked over her shoulder. A big dark-winged bird was flying straight for them. ‘It’s a jaeger,’ she said with a grin. ‘A parasitic jaeger. Stercorarius parasiticus, to give it its—duck your head!’

      But Jud was standing up to adjust his lens, and as the bird swooped overhead, his shutter clicked busily. For a moment the jaeger hung in the air, perfectly poised, its tail fanned and its streamers gracefully punctuating the sky. Then it dived again, and with a burble of laughter Kathrin watched its passage stir the parting in Jud’s hair.

      The jaeger passed over them twice more before flying off in the direction of the sea. Jud lowered his camera. ‘I’m sure I got at least one good shot there,’ he said, ‘and maybe two. It must have had a four-foot wing span.’

      ‘Forty-two inches,’ Kathrin said obligingly, laughter lingering on her face. ‘It’s a good thing we ate all the stew—they’re not called pirate-birds for nothing.’

      ‘To hell with the stew—I thought it was after my scalp.’

      ‘It did give you a new hairdo,’ she chuckled, and reached up with one hand to smooth his hair back in place. But Jud was taller than she remembered, so that she had to stand on tiptoe; and his hair, for all its thickness, was silky to the touch. She had somehow expected it to be coarse and springy. Taken aback, she realised with a frisson СКАЧАТЬ