The Tall Girl from Somerset. 2 Anne

ANNE 

Berringford,  Somerset.   October 1964

Rain and a walk.

Anne pushed her hair back from her eyes and looked up.  Yes, it was raining.  Early October rain.  Very early October. Not cold.  That would come, though, in November. Darrington was behind her and ahead were the flat green fields that stretched from her village, Berringford, as far as the coast. Her country.  God’s own country, Uncle Henry had called it one evening just after Easter as he looked across the fields to Weston and the setting sun.  Beyond the line of the shore was the Bristol Channel, a shining streak of white and brown on its way down to Exmoor.  She could hardly see the hills of Wales across the sea.  What did they say here?  ‘If you stand on Tollbury Hill and the mountains of Wales look close, it is going to rain.  If they look a long way off, it has just rained and if you cannot see them at all, it is raining!’   Who had told her that? Was it Uncle Henry? It sounded a bit like him. She looked down again, smiled, concentrated on the stony path in front of her, for it was slippery now, and pulled her hood over her head.  Then she carried on, walking faster as the rain fell harder.

‘Come on, Anne.  Don’t give up.  Never give up.  Just another half an hour’s walk.  You’ve done Dark Down, the backbone of the Mendips.  Now to the top of Tollbury. The rain is pretty bad, but the rain has never mattered!  The weather never matters. What matters is to be able to go on. To face things. To face tomorrow. To face starting something new. To keep going. Pull your hood tighter.  Keep the rain out. One more rise, and I can hardly see it through the rain, and then it’s down the hill, across the A38, careful of the traffic, the cars come down the hill pretty fast there, up the muddy lane, down the wide rocky road they call the batch, through the cottage garden, which seems someone's home and, in fact, is someone's home but the footpath still runs through it, and then down the little path between the high hedges.   Back home.  Back to Erewhon and to tea and the fire, and there will be toast, and then the getting ready for tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow is Monday, but it’ll be OK.’

It was OK, and next day Anne left home and went to Oxford to study law.