by Ursula Bloom
‘Have you now?’ and he went on kissing her, so that within her a thousand emotions rose, too big for her, too compelling, and she became frightened by them. She got up at last, not entirely mistress of herself, and she stood there trembling, and hoping that he wouldn’t notice it. It was all because she was so inexperienced; new to this, new, but she’d learn.
‘I must go back now,’ she said.
‘In Frinton most people like ourselves stay to see the dawn rise up out of the sea.’
‘I’m not most people, and I can’t possibly do that tonight. What would Miss Everington say?’
‘Another night then.’ He had come close to her, so close that she could smell the faint tang of saltiness which clung to his hair. ‘Funny little girl, aren’t you? Most cats like the night time. What’s the matter with you, or is it that you’re just scared?’
‘Just scared,’ she confessed, and turned on impulse, running along the low wall to where the path rose between the gorse, and she began to climb it. Her satin shoes reached the top, and the green sward before he did, for he had to stay behind to lock the hut after him.
‘Not so fast,’ he gasped, when he caught up with her.
‘I rather think that is what I should be saying to you.’
‘Tomorrow at two of the clock, then?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t decide anything tonight, and you must give me a little time.’
He had hold of her arm. ‘You’ll come, I bet. I shall make you come. If you aren’t waiting for me at two, then I shall march in, and even if you’re in your bath, I shall pick you up and cart you out to my car.’
She laughed because it was all quite silly, she told herself, yet at the same time she knew that she had got to pull herself together. When she got into bed she was tingling with a delicious apprehension. She had the feeling that this man counted in her life. He was outstanding, and even if she had demurred, of course she would go to Flatford.
Flatford was delightful.
Rural Essex itself and its edge dipping in and out of silly Suffolk. There was Manningtree in the low tide, and the sea pinks and the lavenders along the marshes, and Constable’s country with its quiet fields, and the avenue approach to Flatford itself with Willy Lott’s cottage at the end of the lane.
Lesley had now discovered a little about Richard North.
He was twenty-five, and gay. His mother had left him a fortune for she had been the only daughter of a firm which made sewing-machines. ‘I don’t use the things myself,’ he said, ‘but thousands do, and all that has been very useful to me, if you know what I mean.’ He had always had far too much to spend.
According to his father’s lights he had been well educated, but his education had been haunted by the continuous agony that he would be found out and expelled, and he had only survived that major disaster by the skin of his teeth. He loved adventure, and was the gay product of an age which loved dangerous living.
His gaiety and bantering were utterly attractive to the girl who had had neither in her life, and never before had merged with the reckless youth of the opposite sex. He was wicked. Lesley knew that from the beginning, but as she had to tell herself, of course there is nothing quite so fascinating as the bad man! Richard could make outrageous remarks looking exactly like some saintly little choirboy, and it amused her vastly.
Coming back from Flatford they had tea in Colchester, then went on quietly. Usually Richard did not drive his car quietly, for he loved speed, but now he wanted to eke out the hours when he was with Lesley.
‘It’s those green eyes of yours,’ he said.
‘My father’s coming down to Frinton for the week-end.’
‘Christmas! That’s a bit of a blow, isn’t it?’
‘Of course it isn’t. He’s a pet, and I know that you will adore him,’ but secretly she dared not confess to the fact that she wasn’t at all sure how her father would feel about Richard. He had always seen eye to eye with her before, (naturally he did not know about Owen) but Richard was not the sort of young man who appealed to the older. She was perplexed.
‘It would be nice if we stopped and went and sat in that wood,’ he suggested, ‘then we could talk?’
‘No, thank you,’ she said.
‘You’ve got my number?’
‘Perhaps I have.’
He shrugged his shoulders and drove on regretfully. ‘Oh well, that’s just too bad! Woods can be so calm and peaceful.’
He made her flush because she was naive enough not to be able to stay blushing, but even that was attractive. He had done much to change her by the time that she met her father’s train on the Saturday morning, and she knew in no uncertain way that already she was in love with Richard! I can’t be ‒ I mustn’t be ‒ she argued with herself, but unfortunately youth has no sure argument against love. Already all the physical symptoms were with her; she could not eat; somehow she did not need food any more, or sleep either! The mere sound of his car set her heart banging; his voice could make her thrill, the touch of his hand was Heaven.
All she wanted from life now was Richard.
‘You’re seeing an awful lot of that young man,’ said Miss Everington, ‘and I think he is fast, and entirely unreliable.’ She was wise with years, but oh, how maddening!
‘Well, who else is there staying here? Why shouldn’t I see him?’
There were others, of course, lots of them, but to Lesley there was nobody else. That was the answer which as yet she could not give.
The train came in with her father, and as he got out of the carriage suddenly Lesley knew that he looked considerably older than he had done before. Perhaps it was because Richard was so very young, that the contrast was emphasized. They got into the hired car and drove along Connaught Avenue.
‘You look radiant,’ he told her. ‘I should have said that you were happy here. Are you having a good time?’
‘Oh Daddy, it’s a wonderful place! I’ve never stayed anywhere that I liked so much. It’s the air, I suppose. The air’s grand.’
‘It seems pretty, and the gardens are nice. Is there anything to do here?’
‘Lots.’ So there was ‒ for her!
‘Yes, but I mean for me.’
‘I’m sure you’ll find lots to do, Daddy.’
She was careful not to leave him alone with Miss Everington, who was a chatterbox, and Lesley was slightly afraid of what might be revealed. Later on they sat on the sea front, and she had a vague feeling that her father disapproved.
Frinton was not like Ramsgate, which he had known as a child, and he had always associated seaside places with large crowds; this small countrified town had little to recommend it to him. Save that it was classy! He rather liked to think of it as that.
During tea Richard called for Lesley in his car. He had been at a loose end without her, and finally he had decided that he could stand it no longer, and had come to beard the lion of a father! He strode across the verandah into the room where tea was going. He made straight for the party in the corner.
Daniel was one of those men who like or dislike on sight, and instantly he knew that he stiffened, for instinctively he realised what was happening and was jealous. Lesley warmed too sweetly, and she looked radiant as though lit by a brilliance from within. She smiled and Daniel knew only too well the smile said, ‘Don’t-be-frightened-it-is-only-my-father’. Her sympathy and anxiety were for the younger man, not for the older one, and Richard was the type that Daniel disliked most. He hated that carefreeness, his lack of deference to age, his belief that the world was created only for his own generation, and ‒ even worse ‒ the sickening truth behind the fact that is WAS a young man’s world!
‘It’s Richard,’ said Lesley, whilst Daniel tried to conceal the fact that already he had chilled.
‘My daughter has spoken of you,’ he remarked, and Lesley cast a look at him from under her darkened lashes; her eyes were now vividly green, slotted like a cat’s when it sees its prey. Her father suddenly associated her wit
h a cat, he did not know why.
‘I wondered if you had finished tea, and perhaps you would like to come out for a run?’ Richard asked her.
She’d love to go with him because that would represent escape, and already Daniel was boring her but it would also mean leaving him alone with Miss Everington, and if she did leave them together, she could make a pretty good guess as to what might be revealed!
‘Don’t mind me,’ said Daniel, ‘for I’ll be all right. I’ve got some shopping to do.’
I oughtn’t to go, she thought, yet she was limp where Richard was concerned.
‘I oughtn’t to leave you on your first evening, Daddy, though I wouldn’t be long.’
‘Only up to the Naze?’ he said.
‘I’d go if I were you, Lesley,’ said Daniel, realising how much she desired it.
‘All right, I won’t be long.’
Yet she wanted it to be a long time. She went through the french windows, and out with Richard to the waiting car. It was as though she had crossed a rubicon, she had tensed, and now she relaxed again. Emotionally she was in heaven.
‘Does your old man always wear those rum collars made in the year one?’ asked Richard.
‘What’s wrong with his collars?’
‘Just everything, dear.’
‘I don’t see why he shouldn’t wear the sort of collars that he likes.’
‘All right. Keep your hair on!’
‘Don’t be silly, I’m not angry.’
‘Aren’t you, by Jove!’
They got into the car and turned out of the gate, scaring a horse and cart which came up short, and the driver stared after them with glowering disapproval.
The car went over the level crossing and down Walton Lane. On the left lay the Backwater with its soft haze over Dovercourt, and the smudged outline of the little dots of islands. There were the white sails of boats on the water gleaming like ghosts, and they dropped down the hill into Walton itself. A knot of people were grouped round the Portobello, and although they went through the town and on towards the Naze, that was crowded too. There were crying children with their buckets, mongrel dogs and ice cream vendors jostling one another. But over the low mud-coloured wall was the view across meadows to the islands, and ahead of them was the amiable oasis which was the Naze, after the tattered desert which was Walton.
They climbed up to the spacious convalescent homes standing in their own grounds, and the open fields beyond. Now they could look down on the little town, or across the amethyst water to Dovercourt, or out to sea to the Gunfleet.
It was countrified.
Richard brought the car to the standstill on the rough grass of the cliff. ‘Still angry?’ he asked her.
‘I wasn’t angry.’
‘But of course you were.’
‘You’re being absurd.’ Her voice sounded quite unlike her real self, but at this particular moment she was torn two ways, between two men, the father whom she loved quite passionately, and the young man whom she had only known for a week. She felt that she was hopelessly lost. She could see no way out, for already she had gathered that her father had disliked Richard on sight, and of course Richard had merely laughed at him.
She sat in silence, staring across the straggle of dead dried grass to the cliff edge, and seeing below it the loveliness of low tide. There were fan-like impressions of the gull’s feet on the moist sand, the vivid almost audacious green of wet weed in a wide streak, and the blue of the water which was pale and summery.
He said, ‘Aren’t we being a couple of fools?’ and then ‘Darling, idiotic little goose, I love you so much.’
He put an arm round her and drew her closer. She shut her eyes and when he kissed her, she loved every second, for she was one with him. Part of him. Merged. As he released her he knew that she was crying.
‘Oh my sweet! Whatever has happened to us. Do you know that I have never loved anybody like this before? Nobody has. I adore you.’
‘Yes, but what do we DO about it?’
‘We get married.’ Richard had all the male dislike of the bond, but at this moment he felt that he wanted it. He knew that Lesley expected this of him, and he could see no other way to make her his.
‘Oh Richard, I’m so terribly happy.’
‘I’m crazy about you.’
‘I’m mad about you.’
‘Kiss me again.’
We belong, she thought as she kissed him, lingeringly, adoringly, and when he released her she said, ‘Let’s go back to Frinton and tell Daddy about it, before we get cold feet.’
‘Half a tick, darling. He doesn’t know too much about me, and may not like the idea.’
‘But of course he’ll like the idea.’ Lesley had to say it very fast and very firmly because privately she was dubious about what Daniel’s reactions might be, but she had the youthful feeling that if she skipped over it quickly, then it would make it easier.
‘Now look here, my sweet,’ said Richard, ‘whatever we do we cannot foozle this one. We ought not to do anything tonight for this is the time to let your old man get used to me. Sell me to him in a big way! Let this be our secret for tonight. We’ll go back. We’ll dance later, and bathe later, still without anyone else knowing how much we mean to one another.’
Privately Lesley was glad of escape. Glad to put off the evil hour, and she said, ‘Yes, how wise you are! Maybe that would be quite the better thing to do,’ and she turned and kissed him.
Nobody should take him from her. Whatever happened she was his! Nobody should come between them, not even her father!
They sat there kissing one another. At last Richard glanced at his watch.
‘By Jove, darling, we’re going to be damned late if we don’t get a move on,’ he said.
‘Pray Heaven Miss Everington hasn’t gathered what we are doing, and has told Dad something. That would be the end. I must say she never split about Owen.’
‘Hello there, who was Owen?’
‘Oh just a farm boy in Wales. There wasn’t anything in it.’
‘Owing more than he could pay! I ought to warn you to be careful, my little pet, because I am the world’s most jealous lover.’
‘How could you be jealous when there wasn’t a thing in it?’
‘Because it seems a bit odd to me that you never mentioned Owen before.’
‘But we haven’t known one another for a week!’
He had turned the car and they came down into the little town again. Back to reality! He made speed along the lane, and she laughed exultingly as they shot round the corners, but she realised that already she had seen another side of his nature. It was absurd to be jealous of Owen for Owen hadn’t meant a thing! Perhaps Richard was a bit nervous about telling her father what was happening, and she should be sympathetic. The world was changing. Everything was changing, herself, also!
She rushed up to put on another frock, and came downstairs to dine, a trifle late. Her father was waiting for her, drinking a sherry and he called her over to him.
‘About this young man of yours, Lesley.’
Miss Everington HAS split, she thought, what a mean old cat! Oh, how could she have done such a thing, knowing how much depended on it! But the girl stayed calm, determined not to give herself away. ‘Yes, well what about him?’
‘Where did you pick him up?’
‘Richard? Oh, Richard just happened.’ She had got to be leisurely and evasive. She must never admit the truth. It was more difficult than she had anticipated, because her voice didn’t sound normal, but had a catch in it as though the edges were frayed.
‘Do you care for this young fellow, Lesley?’
‘In a way, I suppose I do.’
Daniel was looking deep down into the brown amber of the sherry, his face puckering as it always did when he was perplexed. He would not have believed that he could feel so alarmed for his daughter. ‘You know, I don’t think he is worthy of you, I wouldn’t take him too seriously, if I were you. Really I wouldn’t.’
>
Anger filled Lesley, and the bitter resentment that he, who scarcely knew Richard, in point of fact they had only met this very afternoon, dare voice so definite an opinion. Of course Richard was worthy of her! He was the most attractive man she had ever met, and she was the luckiest girl. He meant something by it, if that was what her father inferred he did not. She wanted to cry, ‘Well, you’re dead wrong, because we got engaged this afternoon,’ but saner common sense held her back.
This evening the secret must remain each other’s. Tomorrow they’d face the row, if they had got to have row, and she was still praying to avert it.
‘I like him,’ she said over calmly.
‘I’ve got great plans for you, my little Duchess!’
‘I daresay, but all the same I prefer to live my own life in my own way, thank you.’
‘Youth always wants that, and then mucks things up. You’re all I’ve got Lesley, everything, and very precious to me. I wouldn’t have you make a mistake and get your heart broken for all the world.’
He knew that Richard was shoddy; he had recognized the young man as being just what he himself had been when he was in the twenties, plucking the bloom from the fruit of life, yet finding the fruit itself too acid for his taste.
Lesley did not know what to say, so in desperation she parried it. ‘You’ve got hold of the wrong idea.’
Had Miss Everington been talking? Somehow she now did not think so. She was almost sure that there had been something about Richard which her father had noticed, and disliked; probably she and Richard had been nervous and had betrayed themselves. She hoped that her casualness would deceive Daniel now, but he was ill at ease, and had always been a difficult man to cheat.
‘Like a stroll on the greensward?’ she asked.
‘We’re late already.’
They went in to dinner in the room which was crowded. From the dance room beyond a band was playing nice music, she knew, and later there’d be dancing. Richard would wait till the dance already began, she knew, for then he could stroll into the ballroom through the open french windows, as though he had been in and out several times. This did away with the nasty necessity for an entrance fee. It wasn’t that Richard was mean or poor. He had plenty of money and would never miss the fee, but he thought that it was greater fun doing it this way. It amused him.
