Too Close to the Sun

by Jess Foley

  ‘Shall we stop here?’ she said. ‘I don’t want to walk too far.’

  A wild flowering cherry grew close beside the stile, its lush pink blossoms just breaking out of bud. Stephen reached out and took one of the flowered branches in his hand and drew it towards him. Holding the branch close to his nose he drew in the scent and gave a little sigh of pleasure.

  ‘It’s so beautiful,’ Grace said.

  ‘Oh, indeed it is.’ He let the branch spring back to its natural position, then, looking directly at Grace, said awkwardly, ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me, Grace.’

  She gave a little shrug and a smile, dismissing his thanks. ‘Please …’

  ‘I so wanted to talk to you. I need to talk to you, Grace. I was afraid you might refuse to see me.’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘No? Perhaps you might think it’s what I deserve.’

  She smiled a little more warmly here. ‘I don’t know what you deserve, Stephen. As far as I know you’re a good man. I’m sure you deserve only what is good and right.’

  ‘I am a good man, Grace,’ he said earnestly. ‘Although like any man I make mistakes.’ He gave an ironic shake of the head. ‘Oh, I make mistakes all right.’

  Grace said nothing. All around them were the sights and sounds of nature: sparrows cheeped, blue tits and blackbirds were busily gathering nest-building material, a butterfly danced by, and the leaves of the yew tree beside the flowering cherry moved gently in the breeze. Stephen remained silent for a moment or two, then went on, ‘You probably heard about me and Miss Shilford, did you?’

  ‘Well,’ Grace looked off into the distance, avoiding seeing whether or not his eyes were upon her, ‘I did hear something. My aunt wrote to me. But who knows if what I heard was true? You know how gossip is.’

  ‘You heard that Miss Shilford and I had – well – had come to a parting of the ways, did you?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Well, it was true enough.’ A little pause. ‘You see – while I was away at sea on this last voyage we both somehow –’

  Grace broke in at this point: ‘Really, Stephen, you don’t have to tell me. If things are painful to you, then –’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I want to. I want to tell you. You have to know.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I want to be completely honest with you, Grace. Miss Shilford ended our – our friendship, our understanding, I must tell you that. But I can also tell you that it came as a relief to me. I don’t know –’ he shook his head as if in bewilderment, ‘I think that when we first met, Victoria and I, I was – well, somewhat bowled over.’ He looked at Grace now, a self-deprecating smile touching his mouth. ‘Does that sound really foolish? I’m sure it does. But I’m trying to be honest. I suppose I’m trying to get at the truth for my own sake also. At times it’s been so bewildering, I don’t mind admitting.’

  Silence fell between them, then Grace said: ‘When did this happen – your separation from Miss Shilford?’

  ‘Very soon after I got back from the West Indies. Just weeks ago. I can’t be sure, but I rather think that perhaps someone else had come into her life. Not that she ever hinted at such a thing, but …’ His words ended in a shrug.

  ‘Oh, Stephen, how sad for you. What a great shame.’

  ‘No, it’s all right, really it is. As I said to you, it was a relief. The news came as a relief. When she told me, trying not to let me down too harshly – well – all I could feel was relief. I was glad. It sounds awful to say it, but it’s the truth.’

  ‘And does Miss Shilford know of your feelings? Does she know how you felt about the parting?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I didn’t tell her, certainly. I merely wished her happiness in whatever she chose to do and with whomever she chose to share her life. Who knows, perhaps she might have gleaned something of my feelings when I didn’t cry and beg her to give it another chance. I have no way of knowing. But I did not. I didn’t ask her to reconsider. Of course I’m also glad that, feeling as I did, I was let off so lightly.’

  ‘I suppose you must be,’ Grace said. ‘What would you have done if she had not done as she did? What if she’d been happy to continue in your relationship, and only wished to go ahead with the marriage?’

  ‘I don’t know. Had I ended it myself, against her wishes, it would have been a dreadful scandal, I have no doubt. And I’ve no doubt either that it would have been very distressing, for both of us. So I don’t know. Perhaps I wouldn’t have had the courage to end it myself. Does that sound like a confession of great weakness? Perhaps it does. But it’s the truth.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t sound like weakness. I do know that sometimes it’s so much easier to take the line of least resistance.’ A moment’s pause, then she said, ‘Do you know why you were happy to have the friendship end?’

  ‘Yes – it’s because I had discovered as time went on that – we were not suited. It’s as simple as that.’

  ‘But you couldn’t see it at the start?’

  ‘No, I couldn’t. But that’s often the way, isn’t it? Sometimes people get off to the wrong start but end up finding they have so much in common. At other times you start off thinking everything is wonderful – and then things just don’t work out. That’s what happened with Victoria and me. At first everything was fine, and it was only as we spent more time together that our differences became apparent. And on my last leave ashore I realized the truth. We were not meant for one another. I won’t go into all the little reasons that made me come to such a conclusion but it’s enough to say that I did. When we met I suppose it was in all the glamour of the situation of being on board ship together. And she was so attractive, so elegant.’ He gave a little nod. ‘But to make a metaphor, I suppose even in the finest of voyages one reaches the time when one has to put one’s feet back on shore again.’ He sighed. ‘And that’s what I did. And what she did. And I suppose I can only be relieved that it turned out the way it did – with neither one of us being hurt.’

  ‘Have you seen Miss Shilford since this happened?’

  ‘No. And we have no plans to meet again. And now –’

  He broke off, and Grace followed the line of his gaze and saw a couple approaching, a young man and a young woman, from the woodland path. Grace and Stephen stood aside as the pair clambered over the stile and stepped down onto the other side. When the two were gone out of earshot, Stephen continued:

  ‘Grace, I was about to say that – that I was sorry for what happened between you and me. It should never have happened as it did. Perhaps I should blame it on the tropic sun. Whatever it was, it was wrong. I’m sorry I made such a mistake, and I’m so sorry if I hurt you.’

  Behind him, on the horizon, Grace could see that dark clouds were gathering, and she was aware of feeling a sharper chill in the air. She registered the facts only with a part of her mind. Stephen had stopped, as if waiting for her to speak, to respond, but she kept silent. After a moment he went on: ‘I know that there were no promises made between us, on either side. And there was no – understanding, either. And perhaps when it all comes down to it you didn’t necessarily expect anything more from our friendship – other than what there was. Perhaps it was simply that to you – a friendship. I know that’s how it started out between us, but …’ With a little shake of his head he let his words trail off, as if the right words eluded him.

  Grace said, ‘You speak of what the relationship was for me – or may have been. What was it to you, Stephen? Perhaps that’s more important.’

  ‘To me. Ah – to me, yes. I was aware that you were a warm, intelligent young woman, a very pretty young woman. And I know now that my feelings for you were strong. But were they love? No, I don’t think that they were love – any more than were your feelings for me. But that’s not to say that that is not what they could become. I do know that my feelings are stronger for you now than they have ever been. And perhaps that’s one thing that time does.’ He paused. ‘It does take time for love to grow, Gr
ace. Do you not agree?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ she murmured.

  ‘And I wrote to you as I did, Grace, to ask if you would consider giving me another chance. Will you?’

  ‘Another chance – for what, Stephen?’

  ‘To be something more to you. Something more to you than a mere – friend. And a chance to let that friendship grow between us. A chance to allow your own feelings to develop – as I think they could. For I know you liked me, Grace. And I hope you like me still.’

  They stood in silence, a silence broken after moments when Stephen, turning, raising his eyes and seeing how the clouds were gathering, said, ‘Oh, dear, I think we’re in for a shower. Perhaps we should start back.’

  They set off back the way they had come, moving side by side, a yard apart, along the footpath that dissected the meadow.

  As they walked, Grace’s mind was in turmoil. This was what she had hoped for, she realized, but never had truly believed could happen. So many times soon after the break with Stephen she had tormented herself with dreaming that he might end his new relationship and come back to her. But in spite of her brave thoughts she had never entertained any real hopes that it could come to be. And yet it had. And not only had it happened, but now he was here beside her, and he had just spoken words of reconciliation that she herself in dreams might have composed.

  As the clouds grew darker overhead they quickened their steps. The rain began to fall as they drew near to the inn, and they made the last few yards in a dash.

  They stood just within the small foyer from which opened the public and saloon bars, and watched as in seconds the rain came teeming down, bouncing off the steps and darkening the earth and stones of the road.

  ‘Well,’ Stephen said, ‘I think we might be here for a few minutes. Would you like a drink of some kind?’

  There was no option: they had to remain for a while, in which case they must take some refreshment. ‘A little tea would be nice,’ she said.

  Moving through the saloon bar, they found another room opening from it, a small private bar, and they went in and sat at a small round table. From the barman Stephen ordered ale for himself and tea for Grace, and while they waited to be served he took off his coat and hat. Grace kept her cape on; she somehow doubted that they would be long in their present surroundings. Avoiding Stephen’s eyes, she looked around her. She had been living on the edge of the village for some months now, but this was the first time she been inside any of the inns in the locality. She was glad of the fact that there was no one else in the room.

  After a minute the barman brought Stephen’s ale and said to Grace that her tea would be only another minute. Grace thanked him and he went away. Through the window that faced onto the stable yard at the rear she could see the rain still falling, but up above the May sky had already begun to clear, the sun shining through the dark clouds.

  ‘Perhaps it’s not going to keep up after all,’ Stephen said.

  ‘No – it looks promising.’

  At any moment, she thought, the conversation would be returned to its former subject, and he would ask for an answer to his question, his request for another chance. And now that the opportunity had come, the chance that she herself had hoped for, she did not know what she would say. She must think it through, and she must be careful in her answer. What was her situation? she asked herself. She must try to be sensible about this. Her situation was such that she was a single woman with a dependent younger brother to care for. She had no doubt that Stephen appreciated her situation, and was well aware that wherever she went Billy would have to go with her.

  How fine it would be, she thought, to be loved by one man, and to love him in return. To have a home of her own – which of course would be a home for Billy too. A home of her own, where she could feel secure and no longer need to be dependent on charity – or any near-charity of the kind that currently came from the Spencers. A home of her own where she would make up her own curtains and embroider the pillowslips and antimacassars, and cook and bake in her own kitchen for her own family; cook and bake not only for her husband and for Billy, but for a child of her own too.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’

  Grace turned at the sound of Stephen’s voice, watched as he raised his glass to his lips and took a sip of his ale.

  ‘All kinds of things,’ she said. ‘You, me, Billy, the future.’

  ‘Ah, the future … Tell me, Grace, after what I said, do you think I have any part in it – your future?’

  When she did not answer he added, ‘I’m hurrying you. I’m sorry; I don’t mean to. You should have time to think about it.’

  ‘I’m not sure, not even now,’ Grace said, ‘what it is you’re offering.’

  ‘My friendship. But you know that already.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And my hope is that we can have a – an understanding.’ He had lowered his voice considerably now. ‘I feel very deeply for you, Grace, I realize that now. And I hope in time that you will come to feel the same for me. And if it should happen – then I hope we can make other plans. Marriage.’

  He had spoken the words.

  ‘Yes, marriage,’ he said. ‘I would look after you, Grace, you could be sure of that. And Billy too, until he’s able to fend for himself. I’d see he was all right. He would have a home with us.’

  She had no chance to reply at that moment, even had she wished to, for the barman came with a tray and placed the tea things before her. As the man turned, Stephen watched his departure then said, his voice still low:

  ‘What do you think, Grace?’ Then with a wretched little smile, ‘Are you going to put me out of my misery? Please tell me what you think.’

  A ray of sunlight cut through the leaves of the rowan tree in the yard and touched her china teacup. She saw that the rain had stopped. Through the window she could see that the dark clouds had almost vanished and in their place the sky was infinitely blue. She knew what her answer must be.

  ‘Stephen,’ she said, ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Back at Asterleigh House Grace wiped her boots and let herself in at the back door of the house.

  As she went through into the rear passage, Mrs Sandiston came to the kitchen door. ‘Ah, you’re back, miss,’ she said. ‘Will you be wanting some dinner? There’s some nice cold ham if you’d like some.’

  Grace thanked her and said she would like just a little, and would come down to eat in half an hour. Going on through, she went up the stairs to her room where she took off her hat and cape. She felt restless, and as if she had not done enough walking it was almost all she could do not to begin pacing the floor. The meeting with Stephen had left her with no peace of mind at all.

  She looked at the clock, it was almost 6.15. Billy would have had his dinner by now. She took off her boots and changed her clothes, washed her face and stood before the glass to put her hair in place again. In a while she would go downstairs to have her own dinner and then later go and join Mrs Spencer for coffee. Jane would come for her when it was time.

  She stood before the glass, but saw herself only with the surface of her consciousness. She kept hearing Stephen’s voice, the echo of his words, and her own words that she had uttered at the end.

  ‘I know what it must have taken for you to come here today and offer these things to me, Stephen,’ she had said. ‘And I’m just so sorry to disappoint you. But I’ve come to the conclusion that it would never work.’

  ‘Oh, Grace –’ he had broken in, but she had stopped him, saying: ‘Please. If I don’t speak now I might never have the courage again, and I have to say what I feel.’ The little teapot and milk jug, all the tea things, had remained before her on the table, untouched, unheeded. ‘I was a little like you, Stephen,’ she went on. ‘But in the opposite way. Whereas I thought I cared for you quite deeply, I realize now that it was not so.’ Here she lifted her hand in a little gesture for understanding, in a little plea for him not to be hurt. ‘That sounds so cold, I know, but it’s not i
ntended to be so. I’m only trying to speak the truth – what I feel. And I like you, Stephen, I like you very much. And I admire you also. But I realize now that my feelings for you didn’t run any deeper than that. I think I was merely in love with the notion of having a – an understanding with a fine person – such as you are. It was not love. And I don’t think it ever could be.’

  And she had got up from her seat a few moments later, there at the small round table in the private bar, her tea still untouched. She had stood up, and then reached down to press his hand. And he had grasped her hand in his and murmured with quiet urgency that she should not be hasty, and asked her if they could not go on together for a while, for in time she might change her mind. But no, she had said, she would not change her mind. And it would not be fair of her to prolong the situation. Her mind was made up.

  And she had left him then – ‘No, please don’t get up,’ and had gone out into the rainwashed air.

  Now, giving a last touch at her hair she stepped away from the glass. A minute later she was outside and making her way down to the kitchen.

  When she had eaten she went back upstairs and moved along the landing to Billy’s room. A tap at the door and he called, ‘Come in,’ and she went inside.

  ‘Did you have your meeting?’ Billy asked. He was sitting at his little table cutting out shapes to make a model house.

  ‘Yes, I had my meeting.’

  ‘Oh.’ He stopped in a movement with the scissors and looked at her a little more directly.

  ‘What is it?’ Grace said. She thought she could see the faintest look of panic in his expression.

  ‘You’ve been to see your Mr Stephen.’

  ‘Mr Stephen Cantrell. Not my Mr Stephen. What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Tell me what it is.’

  ‘I told you, it’s nothing.’

  ‘Billy …’