Danger Signs

Danger Signs

Lois Edmonds

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Lois Edmonds

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

Sarah stepped out on to the stone top step and paused.

She looked around her with quick glances, listened carefully, then with a nervous expel of breath turned and locked the front door.

After twelve months this procedure was second nature to her now, but it never got any easier – or less nerve-wracking. She had taken the precaution long ago to keep the hedges at waist height, and to clear the edge of the front path of figure-concealing shrubs. From the elevation of the step of her handsome stone house, she could see a fair distance down the steep cobbled street and from its position at the top of the dead-end road the property could not be reached by vehicle any other way.

A determined person on foot could still approach from the rugged terrain behind the rambling house. She couldn't do anything about that. She just prayed the wild brambles that grew thick and high on the back boundary were enough to deter intruders.

It was the best she could hope for.

She set off down the road at a fast pace, her heart lifting as she took in the sights and sounds of the charming little Cornish fishing village that stretched out below her. The raucous cries of the seagulls overhead, and the low chugging of a single fishing boat leaving the harbour were the only sounds to break the tranquillity of this soft, late spring morning.

In the heart of the village, whitewashed cottages crowded in the natural bowl above a small cove on the North Cornish coast, with a scattering of dwellings perched higher on the steep hillsides. From the Middle Ages to the 19th century, the tiny port had been active with cargoes of stone, ores, salt and pottery, but now the only comings and goings in the sheltered harbour were the few boats still trawling the local waters for crab, lobster and fish, and the occasional pleasure craft.

Sarah loved Porthen – she had been born here 27 years ago and her Cornish roots went deep. When her whole world had crashed and burned last year, it had been the only place for her to go.

The only place that could offer her safe haven and restore her soul.

But just how long it would be safe for her here, she had no idea.

She just prayed that her coming back here didn't endanger the inhabitants of this peaceful corner of Cornwall – or the people she loved.

Shrugging off the melancholy, she turned her mind to happier things. This was going to be a good day – a red letter day for her tiny, fledgling private school. A new pupil was enrolling, bringing the total number of students to eleven.

The small red brick Victorian schoolhouse in the centre of the village had been closed for many years, until she re-opened it last September. She has used most of her insurance money to restore and furnish the two classrooms and one playroom, and in the beginning it had been a struggle to attract enough pupils to make her project viable. Still, the numbers were growing slowly as her reputation spread amongst the locals. Four local families so far had entrusted her with teaching their children, and the Rand family would make five.

She had been looking forward to this day ever since she received the letter from Dominic Rand two weeks ago. He was moving to Porthen with his six-year old deaf son, and wished to enrol him at her school. She would now have the chance to use her skills to help a hearing impaired child in her own classroom, and she was looking forward to the challenge.

Helping children with hearing impairment was a speciality of Sarah's. She had been seven years old when her brother Roddy was born deaf. Old enough to understand why he couldn't speak, Sarah had learned to sign and she quickly became the channel of communication between Roddy and their parents. She continued her interest in hearing impairment into her teaching years. As an experienced user and tutor of Sign Language, she often travelled throughout Cornwall and Devon, using her signing and teaching skills to help hearing families with deaf children to communicate.

It was her experience with deaf children that had taken her to Nepal during her year out after graduation. Where her path had crossed with that of Aurek.

Sarah arrived earlier at school than usual. She wanted to make sure she was there to greet the new student, and to make sure the little school made a good first impression on the parents. Her eyes flicked around the bright busy classroom, with its walls covered in colourful paintings and posters, the neat rows of desks and low shelves crammed with all manner of books, games and educational toys. Each desk was equipped with a computer, and a large interactive whiteboard filled the centre of the front wall. She was proud of the fact her students had access to the latest teaching aids available. It had put a huge dent in her savings, but it was well worth it to give her young charges every advantage.

She turned from her inspection of the room to find she wasn't alone.

Her mouth went dry and her head filled with one totally senseless thought.

What is Heathcliff doing in Porthen?

The doorway was filled by a tall, dark, brooding figure of a man. A mass of long curling black hair framed a strong face with deep set blue eyes under straight brows, long straight nose and…oh, a wide sensuous mouth. Well…she thought it would be - except it was now set in a straight, unforgiving line.

Faded denim shirt stretched across a broad chest, equally faded denim stretched across narrow hips and – yes, well - we won't go there.

Her eyes dropped and her heart skipped a beat.

His hands were resting on the narrow shoulders of a small carbon-copy of himself. Long black hair fell over a small sombre face dominated by big blue eyes that were full of such apprehension, she forgot the man.

She smiled at the little boy, crouched down and signed slowly.

Hello, Danny. My name is Sarah.

His eyes flew up to look at his father's face and then turned back to Sarah. He gently squeezed his son’s little shoulders in a heart-rending gesture of reassurance. Big, strong, smooth hands with long elegant fingers were communicating love and encouragement with their soft pressure.

Sarah swallowed. They were the most handsome hands she had ever seen. Hands made to touch…

She focused on the boy and waited got him to respond. She was rewarded by a brief nod and she took this as his greeting. It was a start.

She smiled and signed again.

Welcome. I hope you will be happy here.

This time, she was rewarded by another nod, and some of the fear had faded from his steady gaze. They were not the eyes of a child looking back at her, she realised. They looked out at the world with too much sadness and not enough innocence for a six-year-old.

She put out a hand and touched his head, and stood up to face the father.

Good morning. You must be Mr Rand.

She put out her hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, he took it in his. His grasp was firm and warm, and very brief. He dropped her hand as if her touch had burned him.

He didn't smile. His shadowy eyes reflected the same sadness as his small son's. Sarah was intrigued. Something had touched the lives of this man and his son and left its mark.

She knew what that was like. She had enough personal knowledge of hurtful pasts and dark secrets to recognise it in others.

Yes. I'm Dominic Rand and this is my son Danny. His mouth twitched briefly. But you already know that… His voice was deep with a slight huskiness that tugged at the nerve ends. A rich voice. How sad, Sarah thought fleetingly, that his son will never hear it.

He seemed ill at ease and Sarah struggled to make conversation. Yes, I got your letter. My name is Sarah... Sarah Cooper.

Yes. I know…

Oh, Lord, this is difficult…

Sarah crouched down again, and signed to Danny.

Let me show you around your new school.

She waited. He nodded, a bit quicker this time.

She stood up and reached out to him, and with a squeeze of encouragement from his father, he put out a small hand. She took it gently and led him to the fish tank in the corner. She signed, waited until he nodded, then moved to the shelves and signed some more. In this fashion, they circumvented the room taking in all there was to see.

Sarah was very conscious of the tall dark figure following them quietly around the room. He didn't speak, but when she caught his eye she thought his look was a touch warmer, less forbidding. As their tour was finishing, other pupils were arriving, and the room filled with laughter and chatter.

Mr Rand…

Call me Dom, please.

The twitch was more pronounced this time. Compared to before, he was positively beaming now.

Okay…Dom. You can leave Danny with me now. I'm sure he will be fine. Do you wasn’t to explain this to him and say goodbye?

His lips pursed, but he crouched down and faced his son.

His signing was pretty good, Sarah realised. He had clearly taken the trouble to learn it well. But before he could complete the phrase, Danny threw himself into his father's arms and clung to him desperately.

Dom looked over his son's head at Sarah. His eyes were so full of pain she had to swallow down the lump in her throat. She moved to take one little hand, and Dom carefully extricated himself from Danny's grasp. He stood up and inhaled sharply.

Please, if you need me – please call. You have my mobile number…

She nodded. I will. We can do the paperwork later. I will look after him, I promise…

Thank you, Sarah.

He placed a comforting hand on his son's head, and turned and strode quickly away. Danny stood tall and still and grasped Sarah's hand very hard. Her heart went out to him. He was a lost little boy, in a strange place, trying very hard to be brave as his father walked away.

Just like his Dad, Sarah thought. It seemed they had both locked their emotions away where no-one and nothing could reach them.

Sarah's other ten pupils were from four village families. They ranged in age from five to eleven, giving Sarah four levels of teaching to plan and present in a day. With only two or three students at each level, it made the working day varied and interesting. Sarah would make each group her focus of attention at set times of the day, while the others got on with computer exercises or special projects. With only one other pupil at Danny's level, giving him undivided attention was easy to manage.

Sarah had practised the sign for 'welcome' with the class the week before, and one by one they introduced themselves to their new classmate. He watched them all with solemn eyes and he didn't smile, but the stiffness in his back eased a little. Sarah opened up an interactive game on his screen, and left him to settle in quietly. By the time she had set the day's work for the rest of the class, he was so engrossed in his game she let him be. It was his first day, after all.

At lunchtime, the other children tried to include Danny in kicking a ball around the courtyard, but he moved to sit alone on the bench by the door. Ten-year-old Abby popped into the classroom, and took two books from the library. Giving one to Danny, she sat next to him and read her book quietly. Sarah was touched by the little girl's thoughtfulness. They were a friendly bunch of kids, and it wouldn't be long, she was sure, before he joined in their games. All he needed was a little time and lots of encouragement.

Sarah found herself looking frequently at the doorway as the end of the school day grew near. Would Dom, or Danny's mother come for him? She wondered what Mrs Rand was like.

But it was his father who was standing outside the door when lessons finished. Danny saw him first. His eyes lit up and he ran into the outstretched arms that were waiting. Dom held the little boy tightly until all of the other children had scooted past them and the room was quiet.

He looked across at Sarah, his eyes full of questions.

She smiled reassuringly. We have had a good day. Let Danny show you.

She motioned Danny to sit at his desk. His father hunkered down to his level beside him.

Sarah signed to Danny

Show your father the game you were playing.

He immediately touched the keyboard, and proceeded to play the interactive numbers game with impressive speed and accuracy. Dom cast Sarah a surprised glance.

I had no idea! This is amazing…

He is a very bright boy, Dom. These games are designed to entertain as well as help kids to teach themselves. He picked it up in just a few minutes!

Danny was so absorbed in the game, he hardly noticed the adults move away to Sarah's desk.

I just need some details, for my records. Sarah opened the form in front of her. I have your name, address and telephone number. Now… what about Mrs Rand?

There was no response from the man sitting across from her. She looked up, into icy blue eyes that bored into her soul.

His jaw muscle clenched and the eyes shuttered. There is no Mrs Rand.

Oh! I'm sorry. Do you mind me asking…where she is? I need to know, in case it comes up in conversation with Danny…

The jaw twitched a few more times. His tone was clipped and harsh. She isn't dead. She just isn't around.

Sarah could sense his anger. Time to move on. What has brought you to Porthen?

You.

Sarah's grey eyes widened in surprise. Me? What do you mean?

When I decided to move to Cornwall, I contacted the Hearing Support Service for the county to see where I could get the best help for Danny. They recommended you. When I learned you also had your own school…well, it seemed the ideal thing for him.

Sarah smiled, and Dom's