by Anne Weale
CHAPTER FIVE
FLUSHING crimson, Clare drew away. What must he think of her! "Now, blow your nose and drink up the rum," Lancaster said calmly. On the surface he seemed unperturbed by her outburst, but she felt sure that inwardly he must be disgusted by such an exhibition. Yet it was his sympathy@ the compassionate tone in which he had said, "You poor kid"@that had snapped her control. Obediently she drank the rum, gasping at its fiery taste. "I'm sorry to make such a fool of myself, Mr. Lancaster, she apologised, a quaver in her voice. "That's all right. You can't bottle things up for ever." He lit a cigarette and handed it to her. "You know, I think it's time you called me David." "Oh . . . yes, if you wish," she stammered. "You should have told us when the first cable came. It's not a good thing to keep serious worries to yourself. I don't suppose you've had much sleep lately. It might be a good idea to go to bed after supper and catch up with some rest." "I don't feel at all tired now," she said, smiling for the first time for several days. "Besides, there's the sanddune section to finish." "That can wait," he said firmly. Aware that her tears must have streaked her make-up, Clare said, "May I go up and tidy myself?" "Of course. I could do with a change of shirt." "For the first time she noticed that there was a moist patch on the shoulder of his shirt. "I'm very sorry," she said, blushing again. 71 "Not at all," he said politely, opening the door for her. @ * * * At tea-time Jenny announced that she had made friends with two American children who were spending a caravan holiday just outside the village. "Their names are Annabel and Tod, short for Todhouse," she said. "And their mother wears a Bikini and their father has his hair cut like a toothbrush." "So I suppose we may expect to find blobs of chewing gum all over the house if transatlantic relations ripen," David said dryly. "Yes, they gave me two packets," Jenny said. "Can I go over there again after tea?" "If you're sure -they don't mind having you around." "Oh no. Mrs. Harker said I could go whenever I liked." "And I must be off to the Women's Institute meeting," Miss Lancaster said. "Would you care to come with me, Clare? We're having a lecture on pewter by a schoolmaster from Collingford." Before Clare could rely, David said, "I'm taking her for a sailing lesson. Aunt Leo." "Do keep your eye on the weather, dear," Miss Lancaster urged him. "I'm sure there will be a storm before long." "We will." He glanced at Clare's dress. "I should change into slacks and bring a sweater with you, just m case we get caught in an unexpected downpour." Clare found that, far from being annoyed at his highhanded method of inviting her to sail, she felt a definite flutter of anticipatory excitement at the prospect. After her immediate confusion at having sobbed all over his chest, she had realised that the situation had its funny side. 72 Normally he was the last person one would imagine comforting a weeping woman (such a situation was more in Paul's line), yet he had coped with her outburst with surprising tact and kindliness. What an enigma the man was, she reflected. She had not forgotten his disparaging remarks on the night of her arrival; and then there had been the incident at the fete when he had been so abominably boorish to Andrea Ashley. Yet, when he chose, he could be very likeable. It was most confusing. @ * * @ Js An hour later they moored the dinghy in a shallow IT inlet and walked round the point to the beach. I. Once they had passed through the tricky channel be~y tween the marsh beds, David had allowed her to take I: the tiller, explaining how to harness the wind so that the ; Curlew skimmed steadily over the water. He was a .patient instructor, and'although there seemed to be a confusing number of technical terms, with each tack her confidence and pleasure grew. "Were you a Girl Guide?" he asked, as they sat down on the shingle. "No, I wasn't, Why?" He took two lengths of rope out of his trouser pocket. "I'd better teach you some basic knots. It's not much use being able to sail if you can't tie your craft securely when you land. Now, this is the clove hitch." He thrust a piece of driftwood 'into the sand and proceeded to demonstrate a clove hitch and round turn. While she was practising the knots he said, "Would you rather have-gone to the W.I. lecture?" "No, I'm not especially interested in pewter." She paused and added, "I didn't have much choice, did I?" He shot a quick glance at her. 73 "I thought it would do you good to come out here for an hour or so." She smiled at him. "Yes, it has. There's something very calming about the sound of the sea. Like organ music. I remember reading a poem about it once. I think it was by Byron. . . ." She wrinkled her forehead, trying to recall the words. " 'There is a pleasure in the pathless woods' . . ." he said quietly. "Yes, that's it. How does it go on?" @ " 'There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar'." She was silent for a while, unexpectedly moved by the words of the poem and the way he had said them. "How sad it sounds," she said presently. "Like a renunciation." "I imagine that is .what most of us would like to do," he said. "Renounce the world and find a lonely shore well away from the chaos of modern life. Unfortunately even isolation costs money these days." "Would you really like to do that?" dare asked curiously."Certainly. The difficulty is finding a suitable retreat. Fifty years ago one could have sailed off to the South Seas, but now there are very few places where living conditions are favourable which have escaped our so-called civilisation." "You could build yourself a hut on these dunes and become the hermit of Clint.", "Whereupon I should be besieged by newspaper reporters and sight-seers, followed by the sanitary inspector and a deputation from the local council." Clare laughed. "Yes, I suppose so. Besides, now that the rabbits have been exterminated you'd have a rather limited diet." ^ She watched a handful of sand trickle between her I. fingers. I-;, "I suppose most people have secret dreams of an ideal gfc/life. That's what I came to hate in London@the feeling jjrof being trapped in an enormous treadmill. I used to ||'@watch people in the tube, and you could tell from their prfaces that most of them were waging an endless struggle J against grocery bills and school fees and mortgages. I suppose that is why so many people fill in football pools, (''"fbecause it's their one faint chance of escaping from the < daily grind." He nodded. "Yes, poor devils. And when one of them g; does win a fortune they are so conditioned to a humdrum g existence that they have no idea how to cope with the | 'sudden change." I" He tossed a pebble at'a clump of sea-rocket. "What | would you do if you could choose how to live?" j' Clare gazed thoughtfully out to sea, her arms claspedI'round her updrawn knees. "My ideal life doesn't depend ; ,pn a windfall or a desert island. I should like to marry ;. and have a house m the country and three children." i "That shouldn't be difficult to achieve." | "No . . . except that marriage seems to be even more ; of a gamble than football pools." "Marriage is like any other partnership, I imagine. Providing you undertake the contract with a clear idea of the commitments and liabilities involved. Of course, if the practical issues are confused with a lot of emotional nonsense ..." He shrugged expressively. "You mean love?" she said levelly. He shrugged again. "You can call it that, I suppose." "I don't think I should care for a marriage on tile lines of a business contract," she replied crisply, chilled by his sarcastic tone. "It works satisfactorily in other countries." "Possibly, where women are content to be glorified housekeepers. You can hardly expect such a system to 75 apply to England where most girls earn their living from the age of eighteen or even younger, and are used to being treated as intelligent and responsible in a wider sphere than the kitchen and nursery.""Surely from a woman's point of view the object of marriage is to gain financial security@luxury is she is lucky@in return for which she undertakes to run a home and produce children.""That may have been true of our grandmothers, but certainly isn't today. I've known several women whose standard of living went down with a jolt when they married.""That must have made life pretty hellish for their husbands," he observed sardonically."Not at all," dare countered indignantly. "We aren't all greedy materialists, you know." She broke off abruptly. "Sony, I was beginning to sound like counsel for the defence. Are there any more knots I should know?" "Two are enough for one lesson. We'd better get back. The tide will be turning in half an hour." dare stood up and dusted the sand from her slacks. the setting sun the sea
was flecked with crimson and gold. She wished their conversation had not verged on disagreement. Now, no doubt, he would resume his previous formality and the comfortable atmosphere in which the evening had begun would be lost. She followed him round the point, watching his long rhythmic strides. It occurred to her that the way a man walked gave a good indication of his character. Paul moved leisurely, with an indolent grace that reflected his lazy, easy-going attitude to life. David strode along with a purposeful swing, head erect, so that one had to quicken one's pace to keep abreast of him. The very set of his broad shoulders gave the impression that here was man who would not be deflected from his chosen course by extraneous circumstances. Arrogance and independence were implicit in every line of his body. . At the water's edge he turned and waited for her to catch up. "Do you think you can handle her as far as the channel?" "I'll try." She scrambled into the stem. "The treatment has worked. You've got some colour in your cheeks again." He smiled, and all at once the earlier mood was recaptured. A gusty wind had risen suddenly, and as they neared the channel and David took the helm the first slow drops of rain pricked her face. By the time they reached the moorings and had lowered the sail, it was beginning to pour down. "Come on. We'll have to run for it." He grabbed her hand and pulled her up the muddy bank on to the towpath. They had barely reached the house when there was a deafening clap of thunder and the heavens opened. "Just as well we turned back when we did,"" David said. "I noticed those storm clouds piling up in the east, but I didn't think they would be over us so quickly." "I hope Jenny isn't out m this downpour," Clare said anxiously, as a streak of forked lightning splintered the dark sky. -"Hilda, is Jenny back?" David called, Hilda came out of the kitchen, looking worried. "No, she isn't, Mr. David." He looked at his watch. "Quarter to nine. I should think she would have left her American friends by now. Can you drive?" he asked dare. She nodded. "Would you mind taking the car up the main-road? I'll go over the fields in case she's taken the short-cut. I don't like the idea of her being out alone in this storm." "Yes, of course I will," Clare said swiftly. "Here's the ignition-key and you'd better take this old mac." She took the key from him and was obediently buttoning the mackintosh when there was a scuffle outside the front door and Jenny and Paul Mallinson burst in. "Whew, what a night!" Paul gasped, slamming the door behind them. "Mercy on us, you're soaked through, child!" Hilda exclaimed at the sight of Jenny's sodden dress and dripping pigtails. "We were just coming to look for you," David said. "You'd better get those wet things off." "Can I have some rum?" Jenny asked hopefully. "Rum, indeed! It's a hot bath and bread and milk for you, young lady," Hilda admonished her. "Upstairs with you this minute or my good floor will be ruined." She hustled the child away. "I picked her up on the main road," Paul said, mopping his face with a handkerchief. "I gather she had been visiting the family who've parked their caravan in old Harrison's meadow." "Yes, they're Americans with a couple of kids about Jenny's age," David said. "I suppose it was fine when she started out or they wouldn't have jet her go. This squall blew up in a matter of minutes," Paul said, raising his voice against a roll of thunder. "Come into the sitting-room. We've just got back from a sail. Aunt Leo is at a W.I. meeting." "Shall I make a pot of coffee as Hilda is busy looking after Jenny?" dare suggested. "If you wouldn't mind." "Can we give you a hand?" Paul asked. "No, thanks. It won't take a minute." When she carried the coffee tray into the sitting-room the two men were sitting by the window watching the 78 storm. They both rose-to their feet at her arrival, and Paul took the tray and set it on a low table. "M'm, smells excellent. You seem to have all the accomplishments," he said, smiling. dare poured out and then settled back in an armchair. "I thought women were nervous of thunder," Paul said, a moment after a particularly loud roll had rever" berated overhead. "I enjoy storms@as long as I am not out in them," Clare said. "Don't tell me you're also fond of mice!" "Why, yes, I am. My brother and I kept a 'mousery"" for years when we were children. I certainly don't scream and jump on the nearest chair at the sight of one, if that's what you mean." Paul made a droll face. "What are women coming to?" he protested with mock gravity. "Well, I suppose that in theory feminine timidity is very touching, but I should think that in practice it could be quite infuriating," dare said seriously. "I agree. Nothing is more maddening than a woman who has hysterics in an emergency," David put in. Paul gave him a rather mocking glance. "Oh, agreed, in the case of a genuine emergency," he said lightly. "But, in general, I deplore this tendency for women to be practical and independent. It leaves one so little scope," he added wickedly. "All right. Next time there's a storm or I see a mouse,J'll remember to fling myself into your arms and swoon away," Clare answered, laughing. She was so accustomed to this light exchange of badinage with Paul that when she noticed a repressive frown on David's face she flushed, feeling as if she had been guilty of a remark in bad taste. To make. matters worse Paul said, "Unfortunately 79 David is more likely to be in the happy position of reviving you than I am." "It seems to be passing over. The sky is getting bright again," Clare said hastily. "More coffee?" "Not for me," David said. "I think I must have dropped my jack-knife on the towpath. If you'll excuse me I'll go and look for it." When he had gone, Paul said, "You know, I'd hoped that you would have an enlivening influence on the old fellow, but I'm afraid he's past reclaim." "We can't all be frivolous," Clare said with a touch of asperity. "Is that a nasty dig at me?" he asked gaily. "No . . . but you talk as if he were in his dotage. He's not much older than you are." "Not in years, perhaps." "Well, perhaps his life hasn't been conducive to a slaphappy outlook. He didn't get all those decorations for taking part in pleasure cruises," dare pointed out. "Don't tell me he's confided his naval exploits into your eager little ear." "No, of course not," dare said quickly. "He isn't the type to glory in his war record. As a matter of fact, Jenny told me that he'd lost his ship and received several medals." "Yes, he's a hero all right. Now, I didn't mean that nastily"@in reply to her expression of censure@"but the fact that he had a tough time out East doesn't make it necessary to go on behaving as if he's in the middle of a naval battle," "Perhaps he saw things which it isn't easy to forget," dare suggested. "Don't you believe it," Paul said, offering his cigarettecase to her. "David's type don't moon about haunted by the horrors of the past. Not that sort of horror, anyway. I dare say he quite enjoyed ploughing about in the China Seas with enemy bombers overhead." Inwardly Clare conceded that this was probably true. When other men were overtaxed by the stress and strain of warfare, Lancaster was very likely in his element, shrugging off the discomforts in his concentration on the essential issues at stake. "Enough of David," Paul said impatiently. "I was coming over to see you when I picked up Jenny. I wondered if you would like to dine and dance at a rather good club I know one evening next week. It isn't good for you to cut yourself off from the gay life for too long." "I should like to come," Clare said. "Thank you, Paul." "How about next Wednesday?" "That would be fine." "Right. Well, I'd better be ,off. I suspect that David thinks I'm an unsuitable influence on you." "What nonsense!" She rose to see him out. "Perhaps if I were in his place I should feel the same way," he said. "Even if you aren't afraid of thunderstorms or mice, you have a knack of bringing out the strong protective instinct, my poppet." When he had gone, dare returned to the sitting-room and opened the windows. The sky was dusky now, but as clear as if the storm had never been. She saw David coming up the garden and called, "Did you find your knife?" "Yes. By a stroke of luck it had fallen on a patch of shingle and not in the mud," he answered. "Paul has gone home. The coffee is still warm, if you would like another cup." "Thanks." He disappeared round the side of the house and a moment later she heard him wiping his feet on the mat. "I expect Miss Lancaster will be home soon," dare said when he came into the room. They were silent for some minutes, and then David said suddenly, "You said just now that you were not 81 afraid of storms as long as you were not out in them Yet you agreed to take the car and look for Jenny." "That isn't exactly being out in a storm. I meant Aat 1 shouldn't
care to be out in the fields if the lightning was bad. I don't suppose anyone would." "And if we had got caught while we were coming up , the creek?" @ "You would have known what to do." He glanced at her and she added, "It's the feeling of i)euig alone with the elements that is rather frightening What would have happened if we had been caught?" "Nothing much. We'd have been tossed about a bit and got drenched through." "I should think a real storm in the middle of the ocean must be a terrifying experience. Of course I've only seen them m films, but even quite large ships look like pieces of matchwood." "Yes, it is terrifying," he said. "It makes you realise how puny we really are. I remember once___" He stopped short. ' ' "Yes?" Clare said encouragingly. "Oh, nothing. I was just about to bore you with some sea-going reminiscences." "They wouldn't bore me." "Nevertheless I won't risk it. Few things are more wearisome than other people's experiences in retrospect " dare studied him thoughtfully. He was looking out of the window, so she knew that she would have time to look away if he turned. Why was he so prickly? So unwilling to respond to overtures of friendship? Once or twice he had relaxed and talked easily and naturally, but these moods never lasted. One could never be sure that one's next remark would not be received with chilly silence or a veiled rebuff. His temperament seemed to be like, the weather this evening. One moment the sky was glowing with 82 opalescent sunset colours, the next it was dark and lowering. Why? Her consideration of the problem was interrupted by Miss Lancaster's return. "I'll go up and say good night to Jenny," David said ' when his aunt had recounted the more interesting parts of the lecture on pewter to them. "Did you enjoy your sailing lesson?" she asked dare when he had gone out. "Yes. You were right about the weather. We were almost caught by the storm, and Jenny came home absolutely soaked. Fortunately Paul met her on the road and drove her the rest of the way." "I was afraid you might be out in it, Miss Lancaster said. "You would have been quite safe with David, but it would have been unpleasant on the water." Later, as Clare undressed in her room, the phrase "quite safe with David" rose -to the surface of her thoughts. She remembered what she had said jokingly to Paul about flinging herself into his arms. Yet if anything did happen to cause her genuine alarm while she was with both men, she knew that it would be David to whom she would instinctively turn for protection and comfort. In spite of his thorny manner and curt speech, he contrived to inspire confidence. She could not imagine him losing his nerve however desperate the situation, and while she did not doubt that in any given circumstances Paul would do his best to cope, she knew somehow that Paul's best would be far behind David's best. She found herself imagining a crisis in which she would turn to David for reassurance, and find his arms encircling her, his long lithe body shielding her from danger. For Pete's sake, she thought crossly, why do I delude myself? He'd doubtless expect me to fend for myself and curse me roundly if I got in his way. And with this self-admonitory thought she fell asleep. 83
