“This would be a good spot for swimming in summer,” he remarked.
“You can swim?”Solomon said, and then, “Stupid of me.Of course you can.”
“I couldn’t, before.I only learnt in the hope that it would help me escape.And it did.That was a lucky day.”
“A lucky day for me too.”
There was a weighty note in his voice that drew Jed’s eyes to his face.
Solomon was stretched out on his back in the grass, shoulders propped up on his haversack, one foot thrown carelessly over the other knee.His gaze met Jed’s, and something in its depths sent desire prickling down Jed’s spine.
He’d been picturing it for days now: Solomon sprawled beneath him, those long, lean thighs coming up to wrap around him, the tight little smile slackening in bliss…
He’d once thought of showing his colours before they parted—he’d had a feeling Solomon might not be averse to the idea.But these past few days, since they’d run into the press gang, Solomon clearly had other things on his mind.And a friend waiting for him in Barnstaple.
Solomon had dipped his head just a fraction, his eyes no longer visible under the brim of his cap.
Jed got to his feet, turning away from Solomon to take his dry stockings from the bush.“I suppose we’d better get on.”
Solomon didn’t answer.After a moment’s silence, Jed heard the rustle of clothing as Solomon climbed to his feet.Jed picked up his haversack, very aware of the other man’s every movement.
They climbed the slope to rejoin the cart track they’d been following.
It was the right decision.The prudent decision.Solomon wasn’t some stranger in a foreign port, easily forgotten.These past two weeks had been the best Jed had known in five years, and he didn’t want to spoil the memory of those golden days with Solomon’s gentle, apologetic rejection.Or worse.
But now the atmosphere between them felt as strange and awkward as if that imagined rejection had taken form in the air between them.
Another half hour’s walk brought them to the crossroads where they would part.Jed stopped.
“Well, here we are.My village is down yonder”—he indicated the track on the right—“and for Barnstaple, you need only keep straight on ahead.You can sleep at Goodman’s farm by Leworthy Hill.Tell him that Jed Trevithick of Ledcombe sent you.And you’ll be in Barnstaple the following morning.”
Solomon nodded tightly.
Jed rubbed the back of his neck.There was nothing more to be said, but still something held them in place, tied together, unable to turn away.
“Not but what you’re welcome to come down into Ledcombe with me, if you like,” Jed said abruptly.“?‘Twill take you a mite out of your way, but you’ll have a warm fire and a warm bed overnight.”
He didn’t really expect Solomon to accept.But Solomon said, after only a moment’s hesitation, “All right.Why not?”
Jed was so surprised that he let out a laugh.“Good.Well… come on, then.”
Together, they followed the track downhill until the open, windswept moorland gave way to the steep, wooded combe where, as a boy, Jed had gathered firewood to sell for tuppence a bundle.There was the stream where he and the other village boys held twig races; and here grew the sycamore trees with their treasure trove of whirligigs each autumn.
The road wound back and forth, and from time to time, glimpses of the sea shone silvery-blue through the trees.High above the tree tops, a seagull floated on currents of air.
Here, now, was the old oak tree Jed had once fallen from, breaking an arm; there, the clearing where he’d found an enormous deer antler, the envy of every other boy in the village.It seemed impossible now, that he and that boy were one and the same person.
“I’m afraid I’m dreaming and may wake at any moment,” he said aloud.
“I’m very willing to pinch your arm.”
Jed dodged out of reach, laughing.“No call for that, thank ‘ee.”
They came level with the first houses, small and grey-stoned.Smoke rose lazily from the chimneys, promising warm and cozy firesides.A young woman was returning from the well with two buckets of water.She’d only been a little girl when Jed last saw her.She gaped at the two of them with open curiosity, clearly not recognising Jed.
At the cottage where Jed and Carrie had been born and raised, everything was just as it had been: the honeysuckle growing around the door; the rows of hoed earth out front, waiting for spring planting; the wooden post where Jed always tied Bess up.An inviting smell of onion soup wafted from the half-open door.
He knocked on the door, and got a shock when an unfamiliar face appeared.It was a middle-aged woman, giving him an enquiring look.
