Pastorale

The following morning dawned bright and sunny. Amanda arrived mid-morning in a shiny, yellow sports car, but after some discussion with Penny the girls decided to hitch up the pony trap instead and loaded a picnic basket in the back. To Virgil's surprise, Penny declined to come. "Sorry, Virgil," she had said, "but I've got loads to organise for this gymkhana. I'm sure Amanda will look after you."

They set off down the drive, Virgil turning to wave at Penny. Amanda looked at him. "Penny isn't your girlfriend, then?"

"Oh, no," said Virgil, shaking his head "she's just a friend of the family. Though at one time I did used to think that she fancied my brother Scott, but nothing ever came of it, and he got married last year"

Amanda kept the pony moving at a brisk pace as they drove across the countryside, pointing out features of interest along the way. After about an hour's drive, Amanda brought the cart to a halt at the top of a small hill that gave a good view of the landscape. As they settled themselves on the grass with the view spread out in front of them, Virgil had to appreciate it was certainly a beautiful spot, a contrast to both his island home and the Kansas plains of his childhood.

Amanda was interested to hear about his life, and he tried to describe what days were like on Tracy island (the public version of events at least) – how he and his brothers spent their time evaluating and testing new designs for his father's company. He pulled out his wallet. "I've got a photo of my brothers here, if you want to see them," he said, passing across a picture. "I should mention, though, we don't normally look that smart – this was taken at Scott's wedding.". Virgil thought about that day. Scott had insisted, for reasons he had never made clear, that both John and Alan should be at the wedding, so his father had put the space station on automatic for the day. He had also taken the chance of bringing a minister over from the mainland for the ceremony, and the family had kept their fingers crossed. However, their luck had held and no emergency calls had come in. Scott and Elizabeth had dropped the minister back home after the reception on the way to their honeymoon destination.

Amanda looked at the photo with interest. In the centre a tall, dark haired young man who bore a family resemblance to Virgil, stood holding the hand of a stunningly beautiful, dark-skinned girl. 'Poised' and 'elegant' were the words that came to mind to describe her, and the way she was looking at Scott made their love for each other plain. On either side of the bridal couple were Virgil and three other handsome young men. "You've all got quite a range of colouring between you," she observed.

"Yes," he answered, "Scott and I take after my father."

"And I suppose this one" She indicated the one with auburn hair, "takes after your mother?"

"That's right," said Virgil, surprised. "Her hair was almost the same colour as yours. How did you know?"

She laughed. "Us blue-bloods tend to know a bit about genetics. If you take after your father, then the blond ones have to have a recessive gene from each parent, and your other brother has to get his colouring from your mother." She was just about to add 'It's that, or the milkman', when she hesitated, suddenly realising something he had said. "Is your mother not around any more, then?"

"No," said Virgil, "she died when I was seven – in a plane crash."

"Oh, I'm sorry – and what a terrible age for it to happen."

He looked at her 'You mean there's a good age?"

She shook her head, "No, I don't suppose there is." She held out the photo again, "So tell me more about your family."

Over lunch (the picnic box contained cold chicken, fresh bread and a small bottle of chilled white wine)  they chatted about their families. Amanda told him how her father had died some years before, and her mother had remarried and now lived in Scotland. Amanda went on the describe how she had taken up writing soon after leaving university, when her first novel had become an overnight best-seller - much to her families' disgust.

After lunch was over, Amanda looked over to where Virgil was resting in the warm sunshine. He seemed to be finding it hard to keep his eyes open. "You look a little tired." she observed, "Why don't you have a nap?"

Virgil tried to smother a yawn. "If you don't think it rude of me – I think I'm probably still a bit jet-lagged."

"No problem," she replied "I can always get on with some notes for my new novel."

A while later Amanda looked over to where Virgil lay, half propped up on one of the cushions from the cart. He seemed to be having some sort of bad dream, his head was shaking from side to side and his limbs moving restlessly.

Suddenly he sat up. "RUN, Scott!" he yelled. Amanda moved over to him and took hold of his arms. He looked round wildly. "My brother! Where is he? Is he alright? Was he hurt? Please, tell me!" His eyes were wide open with fear, and he was looking around, but some instinct told Amanda that he was still in the middle of his nightmare. Shaking him seemed to get no response, except to make his calls even more frantic. In a moment of inspiration, she leaned forward and kissed him hard, on the lips. As she drew back, he blinked, his eyes seeming to focus on her for the first time. "You – you kissed me!" he exclaimed.

"Yes," she said, gently releasing him back onto the cushions. "You were having a nightmare and it was the only way I could get your attention."

"Well, it worked." He seemed to hesitate. "What was I saying?" he asked, warily.

"You were trying to find out if your brother was injured. Is this to do with your accident?" she asked, touching the cast on his leg.

"Yes" he said in a small voice, "I can't stop dreaming about it."

"You know, maybe you should get some counselling."

"No way!" he answered sharply, then added, "Sorry, but it's not really an option."

"OK, I know some people don't like the idea of counselling, but you need to do something. The memories are there – you don't like to think about them, but they are always there, aren't they? When you close your eyes at night they come back to you. You try not to sleep because when you do, they're in your dreams, and they will keep on haunting you until you deal with them."

By now Virgil was gazing at her in amazement. "How do you know all this?"

"You think you're the only one ever to have had a traumatic accident? When I was 18 I was in a car coming back from a party. We'd all had a bit to drink, including the driver. I was in the back seat with a couple of my friends. I don't know exactly what happened but the car tipped over. The girl in the front passenger seat was killed. For months after that I would dream of the car rolling over, and the screams in my ears. It took months of therapy for me to be able to come to terms with it." She looked at him, "If you like I can tell you some of the techniques that the therapist taught me."

"Yes, please, if you think it will help."

She settled herself down comfortably. "Well, I was told that the images come in your dreams only because you don't let yourself think of them consciously. So you pick yourself a time and place where you can relax, or you imagine yourself in a place where you feel comfortable, and then you think of the images that are scaring you. You then try to distance yourself form the images – think of yourself watching them on a tv screen, as if you are watching a movie; put it in black and white, like an old film, play music in the background. All this is known as 'desensitising'. Do it often enough and the images won't hold any fear for you any more."

"Thanks," he said, looking at her thoughtfully "I'll might just give that a try."

Amanda looked around, "Shall we pack up here? I can take you back a different route so you can see more of the countryside."

Once they were back at Creighton-Ward Mansion they made their way to the drawing room where they found Penny. Virgil limped in on his crutches and sank into an armchair. "That's better," he said. "You may get good views from that cart, but it's not the most comfortable vehicle I've been in!"

Both girls laughed, then Penny noticed Amanda touch the corner of her mouth and draw her finger across to her ear. "Amanda," she said, "could you be a dear and help me put the dog-cart away? It's Parker's afternoon off and there's rain forecast, so I'd like to get it under cover."

"Of course, Penny," said Amanda and followed her out of the room. "We'll be back in a minute, Virgil."

On their way through the kitchen, Penny turned to her friend. "Right, you said you wanted 'a word in my ear'. I haven't seen that signal since we were at school. What's up?"

 "I just thought you should know. Virgil fell asleep after lunch today. He woke up screaming." Amanda looked at Penny. "You don't seem surprised."

Penny shook her head. "I'm not. To tell you the truth, his father is far more worried about his mental state than he is about his physical injuries – that's why he was sent here." She looked at Amanda for a long minute. "I shouldn't really be telling you this, but you're an old friend, and I know I can trust you. There are more to that young man's injuries than he, or I, can tell you about, but I can tell you that that is one very brave young man, and one you would be proud to know."

"Why, Penny!" exclaimed Amanda, "how mysterious! Don't worry, my lips are sealed."

            ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------