Chapter 8

Joseph sat at his desk looking out of the window at the snow. The wind had eased somewhat, but the snow was still falling heavily but at a slant rather than blowing horizontally as before. It seemed relentless. The clouds were scudding across the sky and were uniformly dark grey; there was no sign of brightness. There would snow for some hours yet.

He knew why he was there in his study. Ostensibly he had come to write more of his novel, but in reality it was to get away from 'Trevor' as he knew the man. Joseph knew he had done all the right things for Trevor, but the man was far from safe. While he had been actively involved with saving Trevor's life he did not have to think. Now it was different.

He tried to analyse his feelings. He did not like Trevor, but then that was not surprising. He knew he did not have to like him, merely care for him as another human being. He felt uncomfortable having the man under his roof. Trevor's arrival had brought back all his feelings for Susan and Sonia: that dead, depressed loneliness and sense of betrayal he thought he had left behind for ever. There was also the knowledge which now forced him to face the fact that Trevor was not only still alive but was still as arrogant as ever. The man did not seem to learn from the events of his life, or at least they did not seem to change him in any way.

He fleetingly wondered at the coincidence that Angela had been with Trevor of all people, and even more why Trevor and Angela would be passing his way, after all he was on an out of the way place a long, long way from Manchester.

Was he angry with Trevor? Joseph asked himself. No, it was not anger. Resentment? Hmm, perhaps. Exasperated that the feelings he had been so confident he had conquered through his meditations over the years had merely lain dormant and had now come back to torment him anew. Would he ever be free of them?

Everything in him wanted the man out of his house and out of his life, but the weather was conspiring against him. He looked out; the snow was still falling, though lighter now than before. Usually he did not mind how long it snowed, but this time he longed for it to stop.

Even then, there would be no way out in the near future. If Trevor deteriorated and the snowstorm stopped, the Air Ambulance would be able to land. If the snow did not stop ... He shivered with foreboding.

He looked out of the window in despair. Why me? He asked himself and there was unsurprisingly no answer.

He relaxed in his chair, went into his breathing exercise and recited his mantra, hoping for some peace. It did not come. He knew better than to give up, and sat for half an hour concentrating on his breath. It did calm him, but his mind would not quieten. It reminded him of the early days. He sighed and left the chair and the study and went to check on the animals.

As he passed the bedroom he could hear two voices in conversation. He expected to hear sounds of dispute and angry exchanges, but the voices were quiet and seemed to be sharing ideas. He could not hear that was said and was not the sort of person to listen at doorways. He passed on his way.

He was surprised on leaving the house that the wind had dropped further, and it seemed the snow was falling more gently. He decided to clear what snow had fallen and drifted since his last clearing. Then to clear a path to his second field. It was hard work and kept his mind empty, which was what he wanted. It took an hour to clear everything to his satisfaction, and then he tended to the animals.

He returned to the house and sat in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil for tea. He was tired and cold, but the kitchen was warm and he felt comfortable and peaceful. It was getting towards evening and it felt like a long day already. He made the tea, set out two mugs and waited for it to brew.

He sat at the table. This was where he had sat for eight years. Eight peaceful years. There had been some emergencies: casualties brought from the hills to his cottage since he had more or less level fields for the helicopter to land, or the odd lost walker he set on the right way, but by and large he had led a solitary existence and had never felt lonely. He had his faithful Bob, whom he had as a puppy since his second year there. He had thought he was over all the traumata of the early years. He had been happy, he thought.

Then Angela happened. He realised he had felt more strongly attracted to her than he had wanted to admit from the moment she entered the house and he had tended to her ankle. The attraction had grown even stronger with her re-appearance this weekend. He began to see she was also attracted to him; she had made it clear enough – holding his hand, kissing him, the way she looked at him, her unabashed stripping in front of him before she got into bed with Trevor, though she did not want to do the getting into bed part. It seemed she now despised Trevor, her Gerard.

Did he believe in coincidences? Again he wondered what were the chances of it being Trevor, Angela's boyfriend who left her so near his cottage? How could that happen? The Peak District is huge, what were the chances they ended up here? Ten years on!

Trevor! Who could have foreseen or even imagined that Angela's live-in lover would turn out to be Joseph's nemesis? Who could have conceived of a snowstorm that kept the wife stealer in his house? It was all too far fetched!

Now, even with two visitors in his house he felt lonely. He missed his wife anew. He missed little Sonia. He felt depression creeping over him; that feeling had returned after he thought he had banished it, or at least had left it behind.

The thought of Angela returned, and he knew he had been entertaining thoughts that he and she might develop a deeper relationship, that something might come of it, but she was a city girl and he now thought she would find life with him difficult.

As it happened the same ideas were being mooted by someone else.

Angela came into the kitchen. She smiled at him, and then looked worried.

"Something the matter?" she asked, all concern.

"This co-incidence of your Graham being my Trevor. It worries me. How did you and he end up here of all places? It's very pretty round here, but there are places far more exciting and popular."

Her smile disappeared, and her brow furrowed. Then she looked at him.

"This was the first time we'd come this way," she said, then looked horrified. "Oh, hell! He said it was a favourite walk of an old girlfriend of his that they often did together, and he wanted to do it for old time's sake."

"Could have been Susan, I suppose," Joseph said. "She loved this area."

"You said you passed the cottage with her, you wanted to have it as a holiday home. She loved the area but hated the cottage."

He did not reply to that.

"I've just made some tea. It should be ready now," he said.

"He had two bowls of soup but no bread," she told him, "He could not manage the bread. He's still very tired after his ordeal." Joseph did not enlighten her about his worries for Trevor's uncertain future.

"Watch him carefully," he told her. "Any change at all, come and get me."

She poured tea into the two mugs and took hers with her, back to Trevor. She did not come back.

As Joseph had closed the study door and had shut himself in earlier, Angela had opened the booklet and found the place. As she read she became uneasy. Gerard was clearly in stage two, and this was dangerous and really needed hospital treatment. She understood why Joseph had been worried about Gerard's heart. They were trapped by the snow and there was nothing they could do.

It seemed a shame to wake Gerard, but she knew he needed to feed to build his temperature.

She closed the booklet and went to get some soup and bread. She placed it by the bed and sat for a moment. Then she gently shook him. He stirred then seemed to be more aware than before.

"Wha'? " he stuttered, trying to sit up, "Where?"

"You're at Joseph's and getting better after getting too cold outside."

"Ugh!" he lay back.

"Gerry, you must eat something. You still need warming up. You need your strength."

She helped him to sit up, putting the pillows behind him. "Can you hold the bowl?"

He looked tired already, so she didn't wait for an answer, and began to feed him. She was surprised he allowed it, and it worried her. She did offer him some bread, but he closed his eyes. When he had finished she went and refilled the bowl and he finished that as well.

He lay back and she rearranged his pillows. He lay still, very pale. She sat by him, wondering if he would go back to sleep. Then he opened his eyes.

"How?" he asked, and faltered.

"We came after you and found you. You were under a tree and very cold."

"Oh," he said closing his eyes. "Don't remember."

"Gerard you are not well. You have hypothermia."

At this he became animated. "You as well," he groaned.

She was annoyed.

"Stop it, Gerry, I've been reading the manual the mountain rescue people train with. You are not at all well, and you must rest."

"He's not for you, Angie," he said.

"I'll decide that," she said, trying to keep her temper.

There was a long pause. She wondered if he was trying to summon up some strength. She waited.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Eh?"

"Sorry, Angie. Been a pig."

"Yes, you have."