Cry of the Hunter - Jack Higgins [56]
Fallon gazed out over the mountainside and nodded. It was beautiful but not in the way that she was. He stood slightly behind her and watched her wistfully. The wind folded her skirt about her legs outlining the long clean sweep of her limbs and her golden hair sparkled in the sun. She fitted perfectly into the scene. A golden girl in a golden day and a terrible sadness swept over him because he knew that this day was a special gift from fate. A short breathing space before the darkness closed in finally.
He pulled himself together and let the wind blow his black thoughts away. Today was theirs and he was going to damn well enjoy every minute of it. He reached out and took her hand in his and cried, ‘Come on!’ and plunged down the mountainside.
Anne Murray was shrieking with delight as they rushed downwards, stumbling over the tussocks, never stopping until they were once more in the small glen by the stream. She collapsed against Fallon breathless and laughing. He held her lightly in his arms for a moment and then she looked over his shoulder and her eyes widened. He turned quickly. Standing knee-deep in the heather on the opposite side of the stream was a youth. He was tall and thin with long hair and bowed shoulders and there was a vacant expression on his face. He smiled and leapt across the stream with one agile bound and came towards them. He carried a canvas sleeping-bag under one arm and a dead rabbit swung from his other hand. Anne stepped back in alarm and Fallon tightened his arm about her shoulders. ‘Don’t be alarmed. This will be Hannah’s son – Charlie.’
The boy stood a few paces away from them and held up the dead rabbit. ‘I found it,’ he said. ‘A stoat had him but I chased him away.’ He looked at the rabbit and said sorrowfully, ‘He’s dead.’
Fallon smiled. ‘What are you going to do with him. Have him for dinner?’
An expression of indignation flashed across Charlie’s face. ‘I’m going to bury him. I always bury them.’
Anne moved nervously and Fallon whispered, ‘Don’t worry. He’s absolutely harmless.’ He raised his voice and said, ‘Did you have a good night?’
Charlie smiled and nodded. ‘I slept in the old shooting hut on the other side of the mountain and when the rain stopped I went outside. The stars were lovely – like diamonds sparkling in the sky – thousands of them.’ There was an expression of ecstasy on his face.
Fallon squeezed Anne’s hand reassuringly and said, ‘We’re going down to the farm now. Are you going to come with us?’
Charlie smiled eagerly. ‘I’d like that. I like it when we have people staying. We haven’t had anybody staying for a long time now.’
As they went down the glen towards the farm he walked beside them, sometimes running a little distance away to look at something, like a child. He talked constantly about the birds and the animals that lived on the hillside as if they were personal friends. ‘What happened to him?’ Anne whispered to Fallon at one point. He explained about the boy’s illness and compassion appeared on her face. ‘How terrible. I’ve come across one or two cases like it during my hospital work. It’s one of the most depressing things a doctor can handle. There’s so very little that can be done.’
Fallon nodded. ‘He looks happy enough,’ he said and then sighed. ‘Life can be inexpressibly cruel when it wants to be.’
They crossed the farmyard and entered the kitchen to find the table laid and Hannah fuming at the stove. ‘You nearly missed your dinner,’ she said. ‘We were just going to start.’
Murphy was sitting at the table and he winked across at Fallon and Anne and said, ‘I hope your walk has sharpened your appetites.’
Anne blushed and sat down quickly and Hannah turned to her son and said, ‘Now then, Charlie. Leave that rabbit outside and wash your hands. You can’t have your dinner until you do.’
It was a gay meal and Johnny Murphy kept up a constant barrage of conversation, chiefly directed towards Hannah. Gradually the old woman unbent and once or twice a smile flashed across her seamed, weatherbeaten face. When the