The Gazebo

by Patricia Wentworth

  He spoke with extraordinary velocity. The words drove, and checked, and found their way again, his voice quite low, his clasp of her unbroken, and through it all the heavy beating of his heart. Something in her that had been slowly freezing to death began to thaw. She felt a warmth and a relaxing. She couldn’t move away, she couldn’t move at all – they were too close. She laid her head against his sleeve and felt the tears run down. It was all that there could ever be between them, tears and parting and pain, but at least they were shared, they hadn’t to endure them alone.

  He let go of her suddenly and stepped back.

  ‘Allie, you’re crying!’

  No use to say she wasn’t with her face wet and the tears still running. She said,

  ‘Yes…’

  ‘You never cry!’

  ‘No…’

  He broke into sudden shaken laughter.

  ‘Well, you’ve made a proper job of it now! Here, have my handkerchief. I don’t suppose you’ve got one – unless you’ve changed a lot.’

  The linen was soft and cool. She held it to her face and said,

  ‘That’s just it, Nicky, I have changed – dreadfully…’

  ‘And how?’

  ‘I’ve got hard and cold – and – and resentful. I don’t like people any more – I don’t have friends. I’m not a bit the same as I used to be. You wouldn’t like me a bit. I don’t like myself.’

  ‘And who is to blame for that? She’s made a slave of you. Even Ella Harrison says so.’

  She said, ‘Yes…’

  The barriers were all down and nothing was there but the truth. Her tears had even washed away the futile pretence of girlish bloom. He could see her as she was, too thin, too pale, too old for her years. He said in a laughing voice,

  ‘Darling, some of the colour has got on to your nose. Here, you’d better let me have the handkerchief.’

  All at once something happened. It was like a fresh wind blowing over her and carrying away all the morbid thoughts that had been crowding in her mind. She felt a thrusting impatience of them, she felt as if she couldn’t do with them any more.

  Nicky was here, and he loved her, and the past was gone.

  He finished drying her face and put the handkerchief back in his pocket.

  ‘Or perhaps you had better keep it.’

  ‘No, I’ve got one – I really have. Nicky, we ought to go back.’

  ‘No – we’re going to talk. You will sit and I will sit, and we’ll get down to brass tacks. But you’re not to cry any more, because it interferes with rational conversation. And just in case anyone comes you’d better powder your nose. I suppose you’ve got something in that bag of yours?’

  She opened it and took out the compact he had given her for Christmas, a month before the crash. When she had finished with it he took it out of her hand.

  ‘I’ve seen that before. Did I give it to you?’

  She nodded, and he dropped it back into the bag with the comment, ‘Quite a long time since I handled one of those. Joyous reunion!’ His tone was light, with a tinge of malice.

  She said quickly,

  ‘Nicky, where have you been?’

  ‘I told you.’

  ‘Nicky…’

  ‘Darling, we’ll keep it for the winter evenings. A serial in umpteen instalments. You will be enthralled, enchanted, intimidated, and at times appalled. There really won’t be a dull moment.’

  ‘Nicky, I saw an article in the Janitor signed “Rolling Stone.” Was that you?’

  He nodded.

  ‘I thought it was. I went on getting the paper, because I thought there might be some more. After the second one I was sure they were yours, but they didn’t come out at all regularly.’

  ‘Darling, the wonder is that they ever came out at all. My very best one never arrived. Of course I can’t prove it, but I believe what happened to it was that my messenger took it to the local medicine man, who boiled it down for the use of some of his more exclusive patients. You see, my reputation was very high in those parts and anything I wrote was considered to be extremely strong magic. But we won’t anticipate the winter evenings. What we’ve got to do now is to talk business. Now listen! When are you going to marry me?’

  ‘Nicky…’

  ‘No, you had better not say anything rash! Besides I’ve heard it all before, and it’s damned nonsense! Five years ago you were an earnest young fool and I was a hotheaded one. And your mother put it across us good and proper! I must say, looking at it dispassionately, that she put up a very talented performance, ably assisted by Barrington, one of the most gullible old women in the medical profession.’

  ‘Nicky…’

  ‘Darling, it’s not the slightest use your saying Nicky to me in that tone of voice. The gloves are off and the sword is out of the scabbard, and any other nice mixed metaphors you can think of. In other words, we’re going to have the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Your mother started trying to separate us seven years ago. She made you believe that she had only a short time to live, and that it was your duty to stay with her. After this had gone on for two years there was a final blow-up. I’d been worn down to the point of saying we would live at Grove Hill and I’d go up and down to my job on the Janitor. Right at the end I lost my head to the extent of suggesting we should take over the top floor of the house. I must have been crazy, but she wouldn’t even have that. She threw a heart attack, and Barrington said she might die if she went on agitating herself about your getting married. Of course what he ought to have done was to tell us to get on with it and confront her with a fait accompli. She was, and is, much too fond of herself to take any serious risks once she knew the game was up.’

  ‘Nicky… Nicky… what is the use…’ She wasn’t crying now, just sitting there, her hands slack in her lap, her eyes imploring him.

  ‘Quite a lot. That is a statement of the situation up to date, just to make sure that we are both thinking on the same lines. Now we’ll get down to what we are going to do about it.’

  ‘There isn’t anything we can do. Everything is just the same as it was five years ago. Mother hasn’t changed, and she won’t.’

  He laughed.

  ‘Don’t be nonsensical! Five years – no, as much as seven years ago – she was supposed to be going to die at any moment. Well, she didn’t, and she hasn’t and she isn’t going to. Ella says she takes a lot of care of herself and keeps you waiting on her hand and foot. She’ll probably live to an ornamental ninety, with everyone running her errands and saying how wonderful she is. I don’t want to say anything I oughtn’t to, but if people can only prolong their lives by being vampires and sucking the last drop of blood out of everyone round them they would be a great deal better dead.’

  ‘Nicky!’

  ‘Well, they would! But you needn’t worry – she’ll live as long as she can! And what we’re going to do is what we ought to have done five years ago – first find her a companion, next walk round the corner and get married. You can have three days to break the companion in, and then we go off on our honeymoon. If your mother behaves well, we’ll find something here. I’m writing a book and going on contributing to the Janitor. If she doesn’t behave well, we’ll go and live on the other side of London, and Barrington and the companion can have her all to themselves. My own feeling is that once she knows it’s no go she’ll be all out to make the best terms she can. You see, it’s really quite easy.’

  She shook her head slowly.

  ‘She wants to sell the house,’ she said.

  ‘And go on a cruise. I know – Ella told me.’

  ‘We’ve had a very good offer. Mother seems to have told Mr Martin that she would like to go on a cruise, and he sent up a Mr and Mrs Blount with an order to view. Mr Blount says his wife has taken a fancy to the house, and every time I say we don’t want to sell he offers more. He has got up to seven thousand.’

  ‘That’s fantastic!’

  ‘I know. It worries me. There are two hou
ses just round the corner in Linden Road, and they are practically the same as ours. Mr Martin says the Blounts won’t even go and look at them. And this morning a man came round with an order from Jones, the other agent. I told him about the Linden Road houses, and he said he wasn’t interested – what he wanted was The Lodge. He said he used to pass it when he was a boy and think he would like to live there.’

  ‘You don’t want to sell?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why?’

  She looked distressed.

  ‘It would be so difficult. You see the house is mine, and that has always been a grievance. But as long as we’re living in it the grievance is more or less in the background and she can pretend that it isn’t there. But if the house was sold and the money was in the bank in my name it would be quite dreadful. She is already talking about using some of it for this cruise and saying of course the only thing to do with capital is to live on it.’

  He said quickly, ‘She can’t do that if it’s yours.’

  She moved her hands as if she was pushing something away.

  ‘If I once said that, it would be the end – it really would. There would be the most terrible scene. She would never forget it, and she would never forgive me. No, I shall just have to tell Mr Martin that I won’t sell, no matter what they offer, and leave it at that. I shall have to remind him that the house is mine, and ask him not to talk to my mother any more.’

  He leaned forward and took her hands.

  ‘When will you marry me?’

  ‘Nicky, I can’t!’

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t talk nonsense! My Uncle Oswald has left me a competence. He is the one who was my guardian. I never liked him – nobody did. He used to quarrel with everyone and make a new will every six months or so. Owing to my being off the map I missed my turn in the quarrels, and the current will left me quite a lot of money. We can buy your mother a companion and be able to live very comfortably on what is left. We shall in fact be affluent, because every thing has been piling up whilst I was away.’

  Just for a moment it all seemed possible. She and Nicky would have their own house. She would have her own life. There would be children. Her mother would be reasonable – she might even go on a cruise with the companion. The prison doors were opening – Nicky was opening them, and she could walk out. And then she woke up and knew that it was a dream. People don’t suddenly turn reasonable and unselfish. She had given way for too long to make a stand now. She said in an exhausted voice,

  ‘She won’t ever let me go.’

  His grasp tightened until it hurt. He said in a vicious undertone,

  ‘She isn’t going to be asked. Five years ago I was a boy and a fool. This time it’s going to be different. She can like it, or she can lump it. If she wants to destroy herself she can. I’m going to get you away if I’ve got to smash her and everything else in sight.’

  He had his back to the door, but Althea was facing it. She saw it opening and she pulled on her hands to get them away, but she was too late. The door swung in and Myra Hutchinson stood there. She was more like a poster than ever – bronze hair, scarlet lipstick, and a dress with a halter-neck in a surprising shade of green. She had been laughing, but the laugh had stopped half way. It had stopped because of what she had just heard Nicholas say. She said ‘Oh!’ and he looked over his shoulder and grinned at her.

  ‘See you later, darling. We’re having a private conversation.’

  She did finish her laugh then, but it wasn’t quite as carefree as usual. She said, ‘So I see,’ and stepped back and shut the door again.

  Nicholas laughed too. He hadn’t let go of Althea. He laughed and he got up, pulling her with him.

  ‘And now I’m going to kiss you,’ he said.

  NINE

  MISS MAUD SILVER did not as a rule accept invitations to cocktail-parties, a modern innovation which in her opinion compared unfavourably with the now practically extinct tea-party or At Home. In pre-war days one sat at one’s ease and conversed with one’s friends. At a cocktail-party you were very lucky indeed if you got a chair, and it was quite impossible to converse, the competition in voices being such as to produce a roar resembling that of a cataract or the passing of a procession of tanks. Yet she had come down by tube to Grove Hill in order to attend one of these disagreeable functions. She would not have done it for just anyone, but Mrs Justice was an old friend and her daughter had once had reason to be grateful for Miss Silver’s professional help. She was now comfortably and happily married in Barbados, and had been more than kind to Miss Silver’s niece by marriage, Dorothy Silver. There had been an emergency – Dorothy’s husband away, Dorothy taken suddenly ill – and nothing could have exceeded Sophy Harding’s kindness. It was now four years ago, but grateful recollection induced Miss Silver to take her way to Grove Hill. As was her wont, she dwelt upon the brighter side of the excursion. It would be pleasant to see Louisa Justice. They had not met for some little time, and she would be able to hear all about the latest addition to Sophy’s family, the twins. There was something very attractive about twins.

  Arriving a little early, she had a very pleasant talk with Louisa Justice before the room filled up. Presently she found herself on a sofa pushed well back into the deep bay-window – quite an agreeable position as not only was the noise considers ably mitigated but it afforded a comfortable corner seat and gave her an excellent view of the room. She had an unflagging interest in people. Detective Inspector Frank Abbott of Scotland Yard was in the habit of remarking that as far as she was concerned the human race was glass-fronted. She looked not so much at them as through them, and whether they liked it or not, she saw whatever there was to see. Be that as it may, she found plenty to interest her and to occupy her thoughts as she watched Louisa’s guests.

  Presently she was aware that the sofa had another occupant, a lady in blue who leaned back in the opposite corner with a languid air. After a moment the lady spoke.

  ‘So hot…’ she said and drew a sighing breath.

  Miss Silver turned a sympathetic gaze upon her. She appeared distressed, but was neither flushed nor pale. Her colour had indeed been augmented, but it was supported by the natural tint. She said,

  ‘The room is certainly very hot.’

  ‘It is the climate,’ said Mrs Graham. ‘Never the same two days together. And I have to be so very careful about changes of temperature – I am so very far from strong.’

  ‘That must be a great trial to you.’

  ‘Oh, it is! I am so sensitive to anything like damp, and of course the English climate is never really dry. I had been thinking of going on one of those Mediterranean cruises so as to escape the worst of the winter, but I am afraid I shall not be able to manage it.’

  ‘Indeed?’

  Mrs Graham shook her head mournfully.

  ‘I think it would be too much for me. And I hear that the company is really very mixed. One has to be so particular when one has a daughter.’

  Miss Silver agreeing, Mrs Graham went on in a sighing voice.

  ‘Girls are so headstrong. They think they know everything, and they resent the attempts we make to guard them. There – that is my daughter Althea over there.’

  Miss Silver saw a tall slender girl in a green dress. She was bareheaded and she had pretty hair and good features. Her eyes were bright and she was looking about her as though there was someone she expected to see.

  Miss Silver smiled indulgently and said,

  ‘She is a pretty girl.’

  Mrs Graham didn’t know whether to be pleased or not. She said peevishly,

  ‘Girls are a great anxiety. And of course they think of nobody but themselves. There was a most undesirable young man who used really to pester her with his attentions. Fortunately it all came to nothing and he went away, but he has come back and it really will be dreadful if it starts all over again. That is one reason why I thought about the cruise – it would get her away from him. But then on the other hand there might be someone even l
ess desirable on the boat.’

  Miss Silver said,

  ‘Or someone desirable…’

  Mrs Graham shook her head.

  ‘I am afraid not. These cruises are so very mixed. Besides, the young man I was talking of came up and spoke to me a little while ago. If I had known that he was to be here I would have persuaded Thea to stay away. Most unpleasant for her, and so disturbing. Because do you know what he said to me, and without the least encouragement? I shook hands with him of course – I had to do that – but when he said he would like to come and see us I said I was afraid we were going to be very busy as we were going off on this cruise, and he had the effrontery to ask when we were sailing, and to say that he felt very much tempted to come too!’

  On the other side of the room Althea was making for the door. She reached it as Nicholas Carey reached it. They went out together and it shut behind them. Mrs Graham had missed the incident. She was looking at Miss Silver and warming to the theme of Nicholas’s effrontery. But Miss Silver had seen the young couple go, and she had not missed the sudden glow on Althea’s face as she turned and saw who it was behind her. She went on listening to Mrs Graham on the subject of ungrateful daughters and undesirable young men.

  About twenty minutes later when she was alone again, Mrs Graham having drifted away, she saw the return of Althea and Nicholas. They came into the room and separated, the young man going off to the left and the girl coming straight across the room. It was perfectly plain to Miss Silver that something had occurred between them. The girl had been crying. Her lashes were still wet, but she had a softly radiant air and she looked as if she was walking in a dream. As to the young man, he looked as if he had just come into his heart’s desire.