by Anne Weale
CHAPTER FOUR
and, now, ladies and gentlemen, let me inrtoduce the popular young film actress who has come all the way from London to open our fete@Miss Andrea Ashley! As the Vicar sat down there was a vigorous burst ot clapping, punctuated by wolf whistles from the local youths.Andrea Ashley waited until the applause had subsided. Standing in the centre of the fern-banked dais, her slim white hands loosely clasped, she looked incredibly beautiful The women in the audience gazed enviously at her dress of pale yellow pleated chiffon and the hat of yellow rose petals set on her lustrous black hair. It was impossible to imagine her bending over a stove, the famous magnolia complexion flushed, the immaculate coiffure dishevelled. Her speech was brief, and when it was over a small boy was pushed forward by his proud mother to present a bouquet of carnations. With a radiant smile the filmstar broke off a flower and tucked it in his buttonhole. There was a second burst, of applause as a photographer from the county newspaper took a picture of this charming gesture, and then the platform party moved off on a tour of the stalls and the crowd dispersed. For me next two hours dare and Jenny were busy at the white elephant stall. Trade was brisk, the most un^ likely pieces of brac-a-brac finding eager purchasers, and it was a relief when Miss Lancaster appeared and told them to run along and enjoy themselves while she took over.Jenny raced off to get Andrea Ashley's signature m her autograph book, and dare was strolling across the 56 lawn to the refreshment tent for a cup of tea when Penelope Conyers intercepted her. "Would you like to wash?" the girl asked. "I expect your hands are sticky after serving all this time." "Yes, I should. I hadn't realised it would be such hard work," dare said, following her into the Vicarage. "Isn't Miss Ashley lovely?" Penny remarked as they went upstairs. "M'm, terribly glamorous. I haven't seen her since the opening. What is she doing now?" "Having tea with Paul." dare smiled. Trust Paul to be in attendance' When she had washed her hands in the bathroom. Penny invited her into her bedroom to do her hair. ' "I must get back to work," she said. "Can you find your way out?" "Of course. Thank you for giving me a chance to tidy up," Clare said gratefully. Penny hesitated as if she were about to say something, then changed her mind and hurried away. As she combed her hair, dare glanced round the room. She noticed that, apart from a faded water-colour landscape above the bed and a blue silk pin-cushion on the chest of drawers, it was bare of any decorations or personal possessions. The narrow iron bedstead with its white honeycomb counterpane and the wooden chair -beside it reminded her of a hospital ward, and she wondered why Penny had none of the oddments that most young girls treasure. There were no cosmetics on the dressing-table, no books on the window-sill, not even a pair of slippers left beneath the fringe of the counterpane. Remembering the girl's acute shyness at their first meeting and her dowdy clothes, dare felt sure that there was something wrong with her way of life. Paul had said that she was always busy helping her father in the parish, but it was not natural for anyone of her age to exclude 57 ^^SSS^.TS^'S. -@S t"^, ^ - @cco-te@l ^ @ @w ""^^SXTeyou going .0 [email protected] ho@ man, ^S^-^^^^^^ hick." . . ..o@"Yes of course. How much is it/"Siroence if TOO please. And how are youffimg?ourwork w^.r<ag.ished botani,.?" fh. P@rple Lady n^d a^ ^^ ^^ ^ @ ^ ^,,i^ wlo SS^r^-^S wr^W^^ 'TSe',,,^^ KSr . ch.^ @., did s-^sss^ som thIntTompeUing'about him that, in.s way, was as S-.-yr.s.'; @?-"=@; 58 of strong sweet tea from the publican's wife, who was presiding over the big copper urn, the thing that had lain just below the surface of her conscious thoughts all afternoon suddenly refused to be ignored any longer. With a clarity which the passage of three hours had in no way lessened, she saw herself standing in the hall at Creek House, looking into David Lancaster's eyes, her heart fluttering like a startled bird. Now, just thinking about it, her hand trembled so violently that her tea was in danger of spilling. I must be losing my mind, she thought wildly. R doesn't make sense. I don't even like the man. And yet the undeniable fact was that, there in the hall for the space of a few seconds she had experienced a flare of emotion never felt before. Without realising that she had not drunk the tea, she put the cup back on the trestle table and thrust her way through the crowd to the door of the tent. "Aren't you coming to see the Knobbly Knees Competition?" Jenny tugged at her sleeve. dare stared at her blankly. "Oh . . . yes, if you like," she said vaguely. "I wanted Uncle David to try," Jenny said. "I'm sure he Would win, but he won't enter. The prize is a bottle of whisky." To the little girl's disgust the whisky was won by a dairyman whose knees were "not a patch on Uncle David's". . "Did you get Miss Ashley's signature?" dare asked. Jenny nodded. "She was talking to Paul. He said she ought to make a film about Helen of Troy. Who was , she, dare?" Clare smiled. "A beautiful Greek queen." Jenny digested this information thoughtfully for a moment. 59 "Then Paul must have meant that Miss Ashley was beautiful," she remarked. "A remarkable deduction, my dear Holmes," David Lancaster said from behind them. Jenny grinned. "Elementary, my dear Watson," she said grandly. He turned to dare. "Have you had any tea?" "Yes, thank you." "There's an ice-cream man by the gate," Jenny suggested hopefully. "Would you care for an ice, Miss Drake?" "I should love one." "Right. Three ices, Jenny-wren. We'll wait for you here." He tossed half a crown to her. For a moment or two they stood in silence. Then Lancaster said, "What do you think of our annual gala?" "I like it immensely. Jenny and I were watching the Knobbly Knees Competition a moment ago. She was very disappointed that you wouldn't enter." He laughed. "I gather that particular event caused some gnashing of teeth among the committee. One or two die-hards thought it was beneath the village dignity." "I'm sure it's not nearly as subversive as the baby show," dare said. "The mothers whose infants don't win always look daggers at the champion. By the way, who is the woman with the jar of beans?" She had just caught sight of the Purple Lady still remorselessly pursuing possible competitors. "Where? Oh, that's Miss Bassett, our worthy schoolmarm. Has she bludgeoned you into guessing numbers. too?" dare nodded. "She seems to be a fan of yours." "God forbid! Here, let's duck behind this stall in case she spots us and tries to unload the rest of her tickets." They took cover behind the Women's Institute tent and he proffered his cigarette-case. 60 "Miss Bassett is a worthy soul, but she can talk the hind leg off a donkey. You want to watch out she doesn't inveigle you into one of her Cultural Evenings. She badgered me into giving a talk on botany once." He made an expressive face. "Oh, there you are! I thought you'd gone." Jenny ran up to them with three vanilla wafers. "I think I should go and see if Miss Lancaster wants any help," Clare said when she had finished the ice. "Right ... I'll come with you," Lancaster said. They were passing the fortune-teller's booth when the awning was drawn aside and Andrea Ashley came out, followed by Paul. "Hallo there," he said gaily. "Miss Ashley, may I introduce M'ss Drake and Mr. Lancaster." The film-star shook hands with them. "We've just had our palms read by Gypsy Lee. She's very good," Paul said. "Don't look so sceptical, Mr. Lancaster." Andrea Ashley smiled up at him. "Why, she told me I would meet a tall, dark stranger in the near future and here you are@right outside her tent." "Astonishing!" he said sarcastically. Clare knew that, had he replied to her in that cutting tone, she would have flushed scarlet. But the film-star merely laughed and said lightly, "Oh, I know it's all nonsense, but rather fun, don't you think?" "Unfortunately some people are foolish enough to take it seriously," Lancaster said repressively. "What if they do? It can't do anyone much harm to believe they are going to marry a millionaire or cross an ocean." She widened her great dark eyes at him provocatively. It was a trick that dare had seen her use on the screen, and the hero of the film always succumbed immediately. But if anything Lancaster's expression grew colder. 61 "Fortunte-telling, horoscopes, football pools ... they re all foolish forms of escapism," he said tersely. "Well I suppose that applies to movies, too," the actress observed dryly. "Don't you approve of films either, Mr. Lancaster?" . , ,He shrugged. "I seldom go to the cinema, but 1 should say that the average film is designed to appeal to a very low level of intelligence." "Quite right, too," Paul put in cheerfully. "I go to the pictures to cheer myself up,
not to wallow in gloomy drama" Although his tone was light, dare saw a glint of anger in his eyes, and knew he was furious with Lancaster for the scathing criticism. ."I think we ought to get along to the stall, she sug^See you^ater then." Paul smiled at her, and shepherded Miss Ashley away. It was impossible to judge whether she had been offended. "How lovely she is," Clare said deliberately, when they were out of earshot. @"If you admire that flamboyant type of looks, .Lancaster replied shortly."Yes, I do. I think she's one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen." "And probably as hard as nails.""Why on earth should she be? I thought she seemed very natural and friendly." His mouth curled contemptuously. "Yes, good looks have a curiously hypnotic effect on most people. Unfor^ tunately they generally mask a less attractive disposition. "That's absurd," dare said bluntly. "I've never agreed with the old maxim about beauty being only skin deep. Why should attractive people be any less likeable than plain ones?" . ."Because they know they are attractive, as you put it, and use their looks for their own ends." 62 "But you can't possibly generalise," dare argued. "It's like saying that people with receding chins are weak or that stout people are good-natured. They are just cliches." He made no reply and, irritated by his sardonic expression, she said, "You don't like women very much whether they are beautiful or not, do you, Mr. Lancaster?" He frowned, and she guessed that the impulsive accusation had hit home. For a moment she thought he was going to ignore the remark, and then he said slowly, "I have found that, as a sex, women are not notably trustworthy." She was about to refute this charge with some vigour when she realised that they had reached his aunt's stall. Miss Lancaster was in the process of selling the last item of stock, a pea-green knitted tea-cosy. "There we are ... completely sold out!" the old lady said with satisfaction as the customer departed. "Now I must check our takings and deposit them with the Vicar. We seem to have done very well indeed, much better than last year. Would you just help me to count the money, my dears; I don't want to miss the baby show at half-past five." * * @ @ * The following afternoon dare set out for a walk. She was about to turn off the highway and explore a field path when there'was a loud hooting behind her and she saw Paul's cream coupe hurtling along the road. "I've just been round to fetch you," he said, pulling up beside her. "They told me you couldn't have gone far. I wondered if you'd care to drive over to Sheringham?" "I'm not really dressed for civilisation," dare said, looking down at her denim skirt and serviceable walking shoes. The day was dull and she had pulled a warm but shabby jersey over her cotton shirt. "You look perfectly civilised to me," Paul said, holding the door open. "Come on. It's not much of a day and that path only leads to an old quarry." It was not until they had reached Sheringham and were ensconced in a quiet corner of a teashop that he mentioned the fete."You looked very charming in that green dress yesterday," he said when a waitress had taken his order for hot buttered scones and cakes. "Thank you. As charming as Miss Ashley? Uare enquired impishly. . . .To her surprise he did not parry the question with the easy gallantry she expected. "She's a very lovely girl," he said seriously. "But I doubt if she has much character." "Do you think character is important?" Clare asked. "That doesn't tally with your remarks on the beach the other day. You said then that women were either beautiful or good.""Perhaps I'm revising my ideas. Why were you so embarrassed when we met outside the gipsy's tent?" "I was afraid Miss Ashley must have been offended by Mr. Lancaster's remarks about films." Paul grinned. "He was a bit forthright. As a matter of fact, she lapped it up. Women often fall for that highhanded manner of his." The waitress brought their tea and Clare poured out. "How does it affect you?" Paul asked. "How does what affect me?" "David's touch-me-not attitude." "Mr. Lancaster's manner is not really my concern," she said evasively. ^ "Oh come, don't pretend to be so detached. He s quite a good-looking chap, or hadn't you noticed?" "Yes, I suppose he is," she admitted^"But it doesn't take your mind off your work?'9 64 "Of course not. How absurd! You seem to be obsessed with people's emotional relationships," she said briskly. He laughed. "Don't be so vehement. I shall suspect you of hiding your true feelings. Tell me, what are you going to do when his book is finished?" "I haven't decided yet. I have a brother in Kenya, I might go out to him. I dare say I could get a post of some sort, and I should like to travel." He raised his eyebrows. "Kenya is rather a hornet's nest at the moment." She nodded, remembering the bad dream she had had the night before. She had dreamt that she and Hal were shut up in a hut in the middle of the jungle. Hal was ill, muttering deliriously, his body racked with fever. She knew that somehow she must get help, but through the flimsy wall of the hut she could hear an animal crashing about in the undergrowth. Then, with a terrifying snarl, it hurled itself against the rickety door. ... She had woken up shivering with fear, her pyjamas drenched with sweat. It was just a nightmare, of course, probably brought on by the excitement of the fete or the cheese pie which Hilda had given them for supper. And yet it had left her with a strange uneasiness, a little niggling feeling that something was wrong, that Hal was in trouble. Realising that Paul was talking to her, she dismissed-' the groundless sense of foreboding and made an effort to be attentive. After tea they strolled along the front and Paul entertained her with amusing descriptions of some of the eccentric characters he had met on his last visit to the Riviera. He was an excellent raconteur, and the unaccountable depression which had prompted her to go for a solitary walk was soon completely dispelled. By the time they returned to the car her eyes were alight with laughter. '027 65 "That's better," he said as they started back. "You seemed a bit blue earlier on." "Yes, I was, but I feel much better now," she said gratefully. It was difficult to be forlorn in Paul's company. Not that she bad any reason for feeling low. Yet lately, quite apart from her upsetting dream, her normally even temperament had given place to variable moods of elation and dejection. "I hear Miss Lancaster is painting you," Paul said. Clare nodded. "I had no idea how difficult it was to stay completely still for any length of time. The trouble is I'm supposed to be a mermaid, and they seem to sit in most odd positions." "I told you you looked like a mermaid. What do you wear? The green bathing-suit?" "No, a garland of seaweed. And Miss Lancaster is going to buy a salmon and copy the scales for my tail." Catching sight of his expression, she said, "I know it sounds mad, but actually it's a serious picture. Mr. Lancaster roared with laughter when he heard about the salmon, and his aunt was quite annoyed. You see, she's planning to submit it to the Royal Academy." "Good for her; I hope I have as much spirit at her age. Is one allowed a preview?" "No. She hates people to see her things before they are finished. Even I am not allowed to look." "What is the pose?" Paul asked. "Are you holding a shell to your ear or combing your hair with a fish-bone?" "I shan't tell you anything if you are going to make fun," Clare said severely. "I'm sorry," he said penitently. "I shouldn't be surprised if it is a great success. As a matter of fact, the old lady is a surprisingly accomplished artist, and I can't imagine a better model for a lorelei than yourself." Seeing the mischievous twinkle in her eyes,' he said, "Will you ever take me serously, I wonder?" 66 "Should I?" she asked teasingly. To her surprise a rather sombre expression crossed his good-looking face. Then he shrugged and grinned. "Maybe not. But even philanderers have their sober moments, you know." Later Clare was to remember that remark. * * * * "Are you feeling off-colour, my dear? You look so pale and you hardly touched your lunch." Clare mustered a wan smile. "I didn't sleep very well," she admitted. "I expect it's this thundery weather." "Yes, it is trying," Miss Lancaster agreed. "However, the forecast says rain, so perhaps it won't be quite so close this evening. One hardly likes to grumble at the fine weather when last year was so appallingly cold, but I must say that this excessive heat is extremely tiring, and so bad for the crops. The -garden is quite parched." ' She went on to compare the recent prolonged heatwave with the dry seasons and torrential monsoons of India, and dare was relieved when there was no further reference to her own pallor and lack of appetite. It was three days now since the cable had arrived from Kenya informing her
that Hal had been seriously injured in a motor accident. Three days of almost unbearable tension and anxiety. Fortunately she had been alone in the house when the telegraph boy had delivered the cable. At first, she had felt nothing but a strange numbness. Then the full impact of the news had hit her like a blow under the heart, and she had gone up to her room and lain face down on the bed, tortured with worry. If Hal died. . . . By the time the family had returned she had forced herself to appear calm, dreading their sympathy and concern if they knew what had happened. 67 The days seemed interminable and the nights even worse. If only Kenya was not so far away! If only she could be there with him! Now, exhausted by lack of sleep, she awaited the second cable . . . "we regret to inform you" ... Oh no! Not Hal! Not the one person she had left in the world! "Miss Drake!" She looked up dazedly^ so immersed in her thoughts that she had not heard Lancaster come into the room. "I'd like to do some revision on that last chapter," he said. She followed him into the study, forcing her weary brain into alertness. They worked steadily for half an hour until Lancaster said, "Would you read back that last paragraph, please." ' The shorthand symbols seemed to dance before her eyes. "Dear Sir, with reference to your consignment of coconuts@@@" She stopped abruptly. This had nothing to do with sand-dune vegetation. "Well?" She bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I wasn't concentrating." Expecting a biting reproof, she was startled when he said quietly, "What's the trouble? Perhaps I can help." "Why, nothing ... that is@@" "Look, I didn't dictate that piece of nonsense just to make you feel a fool. It's obvious you don't feel well or are worrying about something." "I'm just a bit tired," she said dully. The crunch of footsteps on the gravel path distracted them. "Hallo, what's this? A wire for somebody?" Lancaster said, looking out of the window. Clare's heart seemed to stop beating. She felt ice-cold and deadly sick. This was it. This was the moment she had dreaded. Rigid with tension, she heard the doorbell ring and Hilda's heavy footsteps cross the hall. There was a murmur of voices and then the door opened. "A telegraph message for you, Miss Drake." With stark horror she looked at the envelope. I must be calm, she thought frantically. I musn't let them see. . .. "Operation successful. Your brother making good progress. No further cause for anxiety." She had been so sure of hearing the worst that for a moment or two the words were meaningless. Then, with a surge of relief that left her dizzy and trembling, she realised that all was well. Hal was not going to die. "Are you all right?" Lancaster said quickly. She realised suddenly that he was holding her arm and that both he and Hilda were looking as if they expected her to collapse at their feet. "Yes, of course. It's not bad news," she stammered, overwhelmed with relief. "I never did like those telegraph messages," Hilda said. "Give you" a proper shock, they do." She went out, muttering disapproval. "I should sit down," Lancaster advised. "You look a bit winded." "Yes, I think I will. You see I expected to hear@@@"' her voice tailed off and she handed him the cable in mute explanation. "You knew he was ill, then?" Lancaster said when he had read it. "Yes. There was another cable three days ago. They said he was critically ill, that there wasn't much hope." "You poor kid. So that's what the trouble was." The compassion in his voice startled her. "I think a tot of rum would do you good," he said gently. "I expect you feel a bit shaky." She watched him cross to the cabinet and fill a glass. "Here you are." He smiled and patted her shoulder reassuringly. Then, to her intense shame, dare felt her lips begin to quiver. The tears which all through the long days and 69 . nights of waiting she had been unable to shed suddenly welled up and spilled down her cheeks, and she trembled. so violently that the rum splashed over the edge of the glass and on to her hand. "I'm terribly sorry. ..." A gasping sob choked her and she rumbled blindly for a handkerchief. Lancaster removed the glass from her shaking fingers and drew her to her feet. But it was not until the tide of reaction had spent itself that she realised he was holding her in his arms.
