Four Roads to Windrush

by Susan Barrie

  The next morning early Dane's cream car carried him away from the Windrush Hotel, and a week later Aunt Grace departed also.

  When she had gone, Lindsay walked through the rooms of the flat and thought they seemed strangely empty. All the furniture was there, wisps of tissue-paper lay on the floor and a faint echo of Aunt Grace's own particular perfume still hung in the air. But in her bedroom the wardrobe and the dressing-table stood empty, seeming to ask forlornly why they were all at once bereft.

  Lindsay had said good-bye to her aunt without feeling greatly upset, but now that she was gone she knew that she was going to miss her. Aunt Grace was the last little link with a home that would never again be theirs, and something told her that she would not come hurrying home from Spain.- When her stay came to an end she would probably go on somewhere else. Whatever happened Aunt Grace would not return to Windrush.

  Lindsay was stooping to gather up the tissue-paper, when someone pushed open the door behind her. She turned, the sound of footsteps in the empty flat startling her a little, and saw that it was Philip Summers who was standing there. He was watching her with an expression on his face she found it difficult to place, for it had never been there before.

  "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I—I wondered who it was!" She apologised swiftly for the mess. "I'm afraid everything is very untidy…"

  "That doesn't matter," he said. "It can soon be cleared up." He glanced round. "Are you going to make this room your own?"

  "Of course not." She looked at him in surprise. "Now that Aunt Grace has gone we shall be giving up the flat. I have arranged to sleep in one of the staff rooms from tonight."

  One of his eyebrows lifted, and she was quite sure he was genuinely surprised.

  "But the staff rooms hardly stand comparison with the one you have been occupying here, and in any case the only one that is vacant at the present time is not much better than an attic."

  "Well, I propose to sleep there tonight in any case." She sounded a little weary. "Elise is next door, and we shall be company for one another."

  "Elise's room was redecorated recently." His voice was sharp. "The room you suggest occupying has been untouched for years. You can't sleep there, and you will remain here!"

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Summers"—and as she looked directly at him her blue eyes struck him as heavy and lack-lustre—" but that is my plan, and as soon as I've got the flat here tidied up and my own personal things removed I'll hand you over the key. I don't know whether you'll consider it a good idea to turn the flat into an additional suite for guests, or whether you think of occupying it yourself? I think you'd find it comfortable. You once pointed out to me that while it was let to my aunt and myself it was more or less a dead loss to you, but that won't be so any longer. You can make money out of it, or you can keep it for yourself."

  He advanced into the room and leaned against the side of the wardrobe.

  "You don't mean to let me forget that, do you?" he asked.

  "Forget what?"

  "My observation about the low rent I received from your aunt. And it was a low rent, but I'll admit I might have been a little more tactful about the way I brought up the matter to you. I don't suppose you had anything to do with the initial arrangement."

  "I didn't," she admitted, and then she turned away. He couldn't know that she was saying to herself wearily, Why doesn't he go away and leave me alone? I don't want to talk about unimportant things just now. She had had one telephone call from Dane since he left, but he had not written.

  Her common sense told her that he was probably busy—caught up in the stream of his affairs once more, but her heart whispered that he could have found time to write if he had really wanted to…

  "Well, if you won't stay here you'll have to have one of the guest rooms," Philip Summers informed her, sensing an odd lethargy about her. "But even that won't solve the problem of a sitting-room for you, and after living as you have lived I don't think you'll enjoy spending your leisure time in the staff room. So if you're sensible, and you want to do something to oblige me, you'll stay here."

  "I don't want to oblige you!" She turned on him swiftly, unsure of the reason why a sudden, downright feeling of anger against him surged through her. "And I won't stay here. Why should I? Why should I be perpetually bullied by you?"

  "Do I bully you?"

  "You think other people, especially when they work for you, haven't any feelings. You think I'm useless because I don't know very much about making money and am soft-hearted about people like Miss Farley. You think I ought to think it wonderful that my home has been turned into an hotel, and because you were a lonely little boy who felt himself badly defrauded, and as a result of that became tough and hard and bitter, you think I ought to be tough and hard, too…"

  "But weren't you a lonely little girl?" He was still leaning negligently against the wardrobe and watching her with interest "From all the accounts I've heard of you, you were very lonely."

  "That's nothing to do with you. Nothing connected with me is anything to do with you." She caught hold of the end of the bed to steady herself, because she was actually trembling with rage. "I think I'd like to leave here—I really do want to leave here."

  "And where," he asked leisurely, "will you go?"

  "To London."

  "And rejoin your boyfriend? By the way, when are you going to marry him?"

  She looked at him, her eyes wide and startled like a fawn's.

  "Hasn't he asked you to marry him?" His voice was suddenly deceptively gentle. "I imagined he was pretty badly smitten with you… But, then it's not really my business, is it?"

  "No, it isn't!" Lindsay's teeth were clenched.

  "But what is my business is the problem of where you're going to take up your abode now that your aunt has left. And I'd like you to stay here."

  "I have no intention of staying here."

  "Well, if you're going to be obstinate about it I'll give way. But it's only temporary. The question can be shelved for the next few days because I've other things to occupy me. And those other things concern you, too."

  "Oh?" and she looked at him.

  "I have to attend a conference of hoteliers in London, and I shall want you, as my secretary, with me. We shall be away a few days, that's all, but you might look upon them as a break; and as my secretary you're the obvious one to come with me."

  "To—London?"

  "Yes, London."

  She could tell by his smile that he knew what she was thinking-she knew that he knew her thoughts had leapt to Dane, and try as she would she couldn't prevent a delicate flush from rising up in her cheeks.

  "And you'll really need me to accompany you?"

  "I've said so, haven't I? It'll be a business trip—from my point of view a purely business trip—but I've no doubt I'll be able to allow you a little time off to yourself," he answered, a mocking look in his eyes.

  Lindsay felt as if she had been lifted right up out of her slough of despond, and the sudden brightening of her eyes made the fact quite clear to him. He turned away abruptly.

  "Well, I'll leave you to get on with your clearing-up here," he said curtly. "And once you've done so, you can hang the key in the office. I shan't touch this place for a while yet."

  When he was gone, Lindsay sank down on to the bed, clasping her hands together in her lap. Her eyes began to shine. She hadn't asked when they would be leaving for London, but presumably it would be quite soon. Ought she to let Dane know? Surely he would make time to see her once she was actually in London? He had given her his telephone number for emergency reasons. She wasn't certain what he had meant by that, but surely this new development justified her ringing? He might already begin to make plans…

  Then she decided to wait until the afternoon post. There might be a letter from Dane. There was a letter and her fingers shook a little as she tore it open. The paper was thick and expensive and his handwriting beautifully neat. The letter was short, but as she read the first sentence her lethargy and her
uncertainty vanished as though they had never been.

  I don't know how I've managed to survive without you, my adorable Lindsay, but somehow I find myself doing the things I did before ever I knew you. However, I feel only half alive, with you so far away, and if we can't see each other soon I'm going to get pretty desperate. Write to me, sweetheart and let's hope a merciful providence will allow us to meet again before long.

  Dane.

  Lindsay, who had carried the letter up to the privacy of her room held it against her cheek for a moment while her heart thudded with happiness. He was missing her, and he loved her, there was no doubt of that! And now was the time for her to write back and let him know she would soon be in London. But before she wrote she managed to get a few minutes alone with her employer and ask him when he planned to leave for London. A satirical expression appeared in Philip Summer's eyes as he realised why she wanted the information. "Anxious to let the boyfriend know?" he said. Lindsay bit her lip, thinking there were moments when he was even more detestable than usual. "We'll be leaving on Thursday and probably back here by the beginning of next week. I should say you can count upon having dinner with him on Friday night, and possibly also Saturday—if his engagements permit. You must make allowance for eventualities of that sort, you know." And the amusement grew in his eyes, although his voice all at once bad the chill of ice in it.

  "Thank you, I—I only wanted to know," she said, and turned away.

  "A word of warning, Miss Carteret." He came up behind her!

  "You're young and I shouldn't think you've ever been in love before. First love doesn't always last, you know. It has a habit of fizzling out suddenly—especially if it doesn't get quite enough to feed upon."

  Philip Summers drove his big, black car skilfully through the heavy London traffic. In half an hour or so, Lindsay thought they would be at their hotel. She had enjoyed the long journey southwards, but now she would be glad when it was over. She leaned back against the dark leather upholstery, and stretched her arms.

  "Tired?" asked Alison Larne, turning to look at her. She was sitting in the front seat beside Philip Summers.

  Lindsay shook her head.

  "Not a bit. It's been a most comfortable run."

  Philip released his footbrake and smiled sideways at Mrs. Lame.

  "You mustn't make suggestions like that," he said. "Miss Carteret has the whole evening before her, and if you think she isn't looking forward to it with an infinite zest, you're making a grave mistake."

  Alison smiled her charming smile and, again turned her head to look at Lindsay.

  "Is that really true, Miss Carteret? Won't you need a rest before you start sampling the delights of London? "

  Lindsay coloured, and feeling annoyed with her employer, answered stiffly:

  "As a matter of fact I plan to have a very quiet evening—that is, of course, if Mr. Summers won't require me in my professional capacity."

  Alison Larne's dark eyes opened wide. "Surely you wouldn't be so hard-hearted as to make the girl do any work tonight, would you, Philip? And, in any case, I insist upon being taken out somewhere to dinner, so you can put all thoughts of work out of your head."

  "Is that a command laid upon me?" he asked, rather lazily, without removing his eyes from the traffic.

  "It is."

  "Then perhaps Miss Carteret would like to come along with us?"

  "Yes, why not, Miss Carteret?" Alison echoed.

  But Lindsay instantly declined—possibly as Alison had known she would. .

  "No, thank you very much. I mean to have an early night."

  But when they arrived at the elegant hotel where she and her employer were to stay while they were in London, she felt all at once a trifle forlorn. Philip had taken Alison on to her flat, but in any case she would not be seeing him again that night, and as she had never been alone in London before, this was an experience new to her. Just for a few minutes she wished she had accepted the invitation to have dinner with them after all.

  Then she caught sight of the telephone beside her bed, and instantly thought of Dane. In her letter she had said that she would telephone as soon as she got to London, so she wasted no time in dialling his number, only to find there was no reply. She glanced at her watch; it was a quarter to seven. Even if he had had an engagement for the evening which he could not cancel, he should not have been out yet, unless it was some professional engagement which was keeping him. She decided to ring again later, and in the meantime to try to be patient. But it was not easy…

  She rang again about nine o'clock, but there was still no reply. She decided to give it up and try again in the morning, when he was almost certain to be at home, 'but she felt much worse than forlorn when she crept into bed at last, and only the fact that she really was very tired sent her off to sleep almost at once.

  In the morning her call to Dane was answered immediately, and by himself. As soon as he heard her voice she heard him give an exclamation of pleasure, but when she told him that she had tried to get in touch with him twice the night before he seemed vague and merely said he must have been out.

  "Darling, where are you?" he asked. "Will you be free tonight?"

  "Of course." Excitement made her voice shake a little. "Will you?"

  "You bet I will, my pet! I'll come along to your hotel at about half-past seven. Then we can go and have dinner somewhere."

  She assured him, rather breathlessly, that that would be lovely, and as she made her way down to the conference room she felt that everything was right with her world.

  Business concluded about five o'clock, and then Philip told Lindsay that she could consider the rest of the day her own.

  "But don't hit the high-spots too hard," he cautioned her, a strange little smile on his- lips, as they parted outside the door of the conference room. His hazel eyes seemed to dwell upon her for a minute, and then he turned away and left her almost abruptly. No sooner had she entered her room than a knock came on the door and a cellophane carton was handed over to her, and inside it was one perfect red rose and Dane's card. On the card was written:

  This will tell you what I want you to be sure of.

  Dane.

  Her heart beat almost painfully with gratitude and happiness as she let her fingers caress its velvety petals.

  Lindsay was ready a full half-hour before the time Dane had arranged to call for her and when, at last, the telephone rang to tell her he was waiting in the foyer, she went downstairs with slightly trembling limbs.

  Dane, superlatively handsome in evening dress, came forward to meet her, taking both her hands in his. "Darling!"

  That was all he said. Then he guided her outside to his car and with thousands of faintly seen stars twinkling in the London night-sky above their heads, they moved out into the stream of traffic gliding past the hotel.

  At last he observed quietly:

  "I see you're wearing my rose."

  "Yes." Her fingers touched it, and at the same time the breath caught in her throat. "Of course I'm wearing it."

  "Darling," he said again.

  Soon they were out on a straight, quiet stretch of road and heading for the river. A young moon, like a sickle above the placid ribbon of water, just lighted the trees on the opposite bank.

  Dane said: "I'm taking you to a little riverside inn I know of. I think you'll like it."

  Then he stopped the car and took her into his arms, holding her close.

  "Lindsay!" His voice was unsteady. "Oh, Lindsay!"

  Lindsay put back her head and looked up at him, and he ran his fingers caressingly over her cheek. Her mouth tempted him…

  When they arrived outside the black and white half-timbered inn there were already a few cars drawn up and light poured from the diamond-shaped lattices.

  Dane with Lindsay's hand in his led the way into the quiet lounge.

  "We'll have a drink here first, shall we, before we go in to dinner? "

  And she was more than content to do as he suggeste
d.

  Dane did not speak much as they waited for their order but his gaze never left Lindsay's face. Her blue eyes met his and the glow in them was unmistakable…

  "Well, how's your boss using you now you're in London?" Dane asked as the waiter set their drinks before them. "Has he worked you very hard today?"

  "No," she assured him. "But, even if he had, I wouldn't have minded a scrap, knowing I was going to see you tonight."

  "Sweetheart," he murmured, reaching for her hand. "I've been longing for the day to pass so that I could see you, too. I wish I'd been in when you telephoned last night."

  "Never mind," she said. "I expect you were busy."

  He looked down thoughtfully at his glass.

  "Yes," he admitted, "I was."

  "Dane," she whispered, as a party of people entered, "we're staying until the beginning of next week, so will I be able to see you again before I go back?" There was a touch of wistfulness in her voice. "I'm almost certain to be free in the evenings, and tomorrow being Saturday, I don't think—"

  "Why, Dane!" exclaimed a high, light, feminine voice at Dane's elbow. "What on earth are you doing here? I thought you were going to be terribly occupied tonight?"

  The voice broke off as its owner, a small, rather elflike young woman with dark curly hair, stared at Lindsay. Her eyes grew wide as they took in the soft gold, hair the flower-like complexion and the beautiful blue eyes. Then her glance travelled over the simple black dress that did so much for Lindsay's slim figure, and noted the red rose pinned on the shoulder.

  "I'm terribly sorry," the young woman began again, "if I'm interrupting—"

  "Don't be silly, Mary!" Dane exclaimed, and if she had taken him aback for a few moments, those moments were passed, and he was speaking with a lazy, amused note in his voice. "Of course you're not! Now let me introduce Miss Carteret. Lindsay, this is Mary Benedict, and I'd forgotten this is a favourite haunt of hers when I asked you out here for a drink. Mary, Miss Carteret is the receptionist in the hotel where I stayed in the North, and as it happens she's come down to London with her boss on business for a few days. She was extremely kind to me while I was on holiday, and I was glad to run into her today."