‘Take care, old man. That kind of talk is dangerous. You had best forget it. Have you not had the government circulars? They must be found and destroyed, as must all their kind, for they too may be carriers and only in that way will we be sure we have got rid of it. The boy and the girl must be found and questioned as to all they know. Then they will be cleansed and educated; at least the boy will, for it appears that the girl may have led a normal life until she left her home. Apparently the disease does not affect them though they are the carriers. Now, old man; let’s not hear any more of this foolish talk. Your attitude has been noted. If you see them you will have to walk down to the village and contact the police who will inform the authorities. As you must know, very few phones are still working.’
Then the dogs began barking loudly again as the Urkku moved off down the hill. It was only when the noise had faded into the distance that the door opened and Ivy came in. ‘Well, they’ve gone for now,’ she said, half to herself and half to Nab. ‘Let’s see how your friend is, shall we?’ She knelt down beside Beth and raised her so that the girl was sitting up. She moaned and her eyelids fluttered but still she did not come round.
‘Thank you,’ Nab said and pointed outside to the door to show what he meant. Ivy looked at him and smiled gently.
‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘Here, you hold her up while I go and get some cold water to bathe her face.’ Nab was longing to ask her and Jim what the Urkku had said exactly but his command of human language was not yet such that he could put his questions into words. He would have to wait until Beth was better.
Ivy came back with a white enamel basin full of water and began splashing the girl’s face. Perryfoot and Brock came out from under the bed and watched anxiously while Warrigal surveyed the proceedings curiously from his vantage point on the bed-post. Outside, through the window, he could see dark banks of cloud beginning to gather in the distance beyond the far peaks and he smelt rain in the air. The atmosphere was heavy and close and there was not a breath of wind.
Soon Beth was showing signs of regaining consciousness and Ivy called out, ‘Jim, bring in a cup of tea for the poor girl.’ He fetched the kettle off the range where it always sat and poured hot water from it into their little brown tea pot to warm it. Then he refilled the kettle and put it back on the hot plate to boil. The tea was in a caddy in the sideboard and as he went across to it he looked outside through the open front door and noticed that a sudden wind was getting up. ‘Storm won’t be long now,’ he muttered. ‘About time it broke. Should clear the air a bit.’ He put four spoonfuls in the pot and then called out. ‘I’ll just go and fetch the goats in, Ivy; before it rains. Kettle will have boiled when I get back.’ He went quickly out of the front gate and called the two goats over. They came running across when they heard him and he led them back through the garden to a little stone shed at one end of the house. ‘Keep your eyes off those,’ he said as the goats strayed over to the little flower bed under the wall. ‘Come on, you rascals. Let’s get you in before it rains.’ He had just put some fresh straw down ready for the coming winter and the shed smelt sweet and clean. ‘Stop chewing my trousers. Go on, get in.’ They looked at him quizzically as he began to shut the door and he laughed and gave them a friendly pat.
Great spots of rain were just beginning to fall as he went back in through the door and he heard the distant rumble of thunder. The kettle was boiling fit to burst so he quickly made the tea and took it into the bedroom. Beth was just regaining consciousness and was trying very hard to understand what they were doing in this beautiful little croft with a kindly white-haired old lady who fussed over her and now this lovely old man who had brought in a cup of tea. Tea! How she had longed for a cup of tea. Ivy poured it into a delicate little cup with a pale blue, yellow and red flower pattern on it and handed it to her. She took a sip and closed her eyes. It was like nectar. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, and Jim and Ivy chuckled.
‘How about your friend?’ said Jim.
‘He’s never had it before. I’m sure he’d love to try some though. Nab,’ she changed to the language of the wild, ‘try this drink. It’s a little hot but I think you’ll enjoy it. It’s very common among the Urkku and the Eldron. I used to drink it a lot. And try one of these to eat,’ she said, pointing to a plate of chocolate digestives.
Between mouthfuls of biscuit and sips of tea, Nab explained to her all that had happened since she had passed out, and told her of the way Jim had kept their presence secret to the Urkku whom he had recognized at the door. Beth was amazed. ‘Jeff Stanhope. Here. But he’s miles from his home. As we are.’ Then Warrigal spoke.
‘Remember what Saurélon said about goblins taking Urkku form. This may well be one such case. I remembered his voice as soon as he spoke.’
‘And I did,’ said Brock. ‘He killed Bruin. How could I forget?’
Jim and Ivy listened unbelievingly as the animals and the humans talked away together in this strange language.
‘I’m sure you’ve a lot to tell us,’ said Ivy, whose curiosity was growing by the second. ‘Come into the kitchen and we’ll have a good old chat. What do the animals want to eat?’
‘Well, I’m sure the badger, Brock, would love one of those biscuits if you don’t mind too much.’ Ivy nodded and Beth told Brock to try one. The badger was delighted, and wolfed down two or three, whole, in quick succession. Perryfoot and Warrigal decided to wait until later when they would go out and forage amongst the heather and made do with a bowl of water each, which they drank greedily for they were very thirsty.
In the kitchen Jim pulled up two easy chairs for Nab and Beth; Ivy sat in her high backed chair opposite him on the other side of the range and he sat down in his old wooden rocking chair on a cushion, the cover of which had been crocheted by his mother years ago. He took out his pipe and, cutting a plug of twist, began rubbing it in between his palms. He had pulled the front of the range down and the red glow of the ashes cast shadows on the low beams of the ceiling for it had gone very dark outside now although it was only mid-morning. The rain was coming down in torrents, spattering against the window-panes and running down them, and through the window they could see the wind driving great sheets of rain across the heather-covered moors. The sky was black and occasionally they saw a flash of lightning or heard thunder rolling around high above them in the clouds. Nab felt that same secure feeling of cosiness that he remembered from the times he’d watched the rain while in the shelter of the rhododendron bush in Silver Wood. He looked all around him at the kitchen; the pictures on the walls, the stove, the pots and pans, the great dark oak chest in the comer and the carved oak dresser with plates on it. Everything fascinated him; from the taps over the sink to the brass ornaments on the mantelpiece over the range. Warrigal perched on the back of his chair looking round at everything slowly; his huge round eyes resting first on one object, then another. Perryfoot and Brock were sitting in front of the range on the maroon and black rag rug that Ivy had made three winters ago and the heat of the fire with the exhausted state of their bodies had sent them both to sleep.
Jim lit his pipe and the smoke drifted languidly up and disappeared into the room. ‘Now,’ he said to Beth. ‘Tell us your tale,’ and Beth started, from the beginning; at first telling what Nab had told her and occasionally breaking off to ask him a question and then, with more confidence, talking about the time since she had left home and joined the animals. Nab understood most of what she was saying and sometimes he broke in to add something which she had forgotten or perhaps to correct her. This happened particularly over the part where she was trying to relate what the Lord Wychnor had told them and Nab felt instinctively that it was very important to Jim and Ivy that they properly understand it. They listened intently without once interrupting and the only sounds apart from Beth’s voice were the crackling of the logs in the fire, the rain outside and the quiet popping noise Jim made with his lips as he puffed steadily on his pipe while rocking slowly to and fro in the chair.