The Silver Sty

by Sara Seale

  She ran across the yard, her red hair flying, leaving him to gaze thoughtfully after her.

  In the days that followed, he sometimes wondered if he had been foolish to let his opportunity go by. He believed that he could teach Sarah to love him, but Clare’s advice was persistently at the back of his mind. It wasn’t fair to the child. She had met so few men of the right sort, and he had the advantage of being constantly with her. He was the first person who had really bothered with her, and it was only natural that she should turn to him. He felt he couldn’t take advantage of his own position, which was daily becoming more difficult, so his only defence was to withdraw more closely into himself.

  Christmas came and went, and with it, briefly, some return to the old footing. Sarah prepared surprise packages for James and watched with childish glee as he solemnly opened them. The Moons came round for Christmas dinner, and Sarah insisted on charades. Pepper brought in a great dish of snapdragon, and they all burnt their fingers picking out the flaming raisins; Colonel Moon kissed Sophie under the mistletoe and told her in front of everyone that she was “a damn fine little woman.”

  Sarah went to bed tired but happy.

  “It’s the first real Christmas I’ve ever had,” she told James when she said good night. “It always seemed silly before, just me and Sophie eating plum-pudding and wishing we hadn’t.”

  “It’s my first real Christmas for a long time, too,” he told her. “We’ll have lots more, Sarah—bigger and better ones still.”

  “One more,” said Sarah soberly.

  “Why only one?”

  “Because then I’ll be eighteen and you won’t be responsible for me any more.”

  ‘There’s plenty of time,” he said. “I shouldn’t think so far ahead if I were you.”

  Early in the New Year Sarah paid her first visit to London for nearly three months. The rest had done her good. There had been no return of the fainting attacks, and Tom Hervey, giving her a final overhaul, had pronounced her fit for parties again if she took things fairly easily.

  James felt it would do her good to have a lively evening or so with David again, and he drove her up to Town himself and left her at Peronel’s flat for a few days.

  But the visit, so much looked forward to by Sarah, was not entirely a success. Peronel’s worldly wisdom seemed a little forced and cynical; David’s attentions appeared slightly overdone; and Sarah, to her own surprise, was missing James.

  “You’ve changed, my sweet,” Peronel told her once. “I almost believe you’re growing up.”

  “Given up your wild ways and become a nice, tame little ward, eh, Sally?” teased Bill Grafton.

  “Have I?” asked Sarah, and wondered what had happened to her.

  And on the second evening of her visit, she ran into Mick Fennick.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SARAH had thought very little about Mick for some time. At first she had regretted her promise to James and rather resented the fact that he had nipped so intriguing a friendship in the bud. ; But she had been in no position to argue the point, and, in the quiet contentment of her new companionship with James, she had very soon forgotten those restless, tiring moments in Mick’s stimulating company. He had acknowledged James’s , cheque at the time, but had sent no word to Sarah either accepting or rejecting his dismissal, so that he took her completely by surprise when he walked into Peronel’s flat about half past six and demanded a drink.

  “Hullo, Sarah!” he greeted her casually. “Peronel told me you were up for a few days. Broken away from authority for a bit? You’ve had a long spell in the country, haven’t you?”

  But if his words were casual, his eyes were not. They flickered over her faintly embarrassed face, noticing everything, and twinkling with secret amusement.

  “I wasn’t allowed to come. I haven’t been well,” she explained a little awkwardly.

  “Her last visit was too much for her,” Peronel said. “She started fainting fits in the best Victorian manner, and they suspected heart trouble. But it wasn’t your heart, after all, was it, my sweet? Just growing pains.”

  Sarah suspected that Peronel was laughing at her, and at the same time became aware that Mick had been expected.

  “It wasn’t anything,” she said a little shortly. “I’m perfectly all right now.”

  “You certainly look all right,” said Mick, and raised his glass to her. “Here’s to our happy reunion! I hope Peronel’s going to spare you for an evening before you go back.”

  Sarah looked uncomfortable. Had he forgotten James’s ultimatum, or was he just choosing to ignore it? It was awkward to remind him in front of Peronel and Bill. She could imagine Peronel’s amused face if she said: “Have you forgotten J.B. has r forbidden me to see you?”

  “I don’t think I’ve got an evening,” she said quickly. “Tonight we’re going to a theatre, tomorrow David’s taking me out, and J.B.’s fetching me in a day or two, anyway.”

  “Oh, I think we’ll manage something,” Mick said with a smile. “I must go into a huddle with your hostess.”

  “Make your own plans, Mick,” Peronel said lazily. “I’m not being responsible for Sarah.”

  “How right you are, my sweet,” he retorted. “No one ever got any thanks for interfering. Am I keeping you from changing? I must run away soon, or you’ll be late for your show.”

  Peronel got up with an odd little smile.

  “I know you won’t mind if I leave you,” she said a little maliciously. “Give yourself another drink before you go. Bill, you might go and see about the wine for dinner, will you?” Sarah was already changed, so there was no excuse for her to leave the guest alone. She sat on the edge of a chair, sipping her drink and feeling very awkward. Peronel’s manoeuvring had been plain, even to her.

  “Well now,” Mick said, regarding her with amusement “When am I going to see you?”

  “You know I can’t come out with you,” she said uncomfortably. “I didn’t see J.B.’s letter to you when he sent you the cheque, but I know what he meant to say. You can’t have forgotten.

  For a moment his light eyes narrowed.

  “I haven’t forgotten a very extraordinary letter I had from your guardian, about three months ago,” he said. “But I don’t take ultimatums from people. You didn’t write and tell me yourself, Sarah, that you didn’t want to see me again.”

  “I promised J.B.,” she said stubbornly.

  “Oh, come now, my dear, you aren’t the sort of person to let other people make your decisions for you.”

  “I wasn’t in a position to do anything else,” she retorted. “J.B. paid my debts on that condition.”

  He continued to regard her still with that experienced amusement.

  “But what a little fool you were to tell him,” he said softly. “That little matter could easily have stood over until your luck changed.”

  “I told you at the time,” she said impatiently, “I meant to give up gambling.”

  He looked reflectively into his glass.

  “You know, you are growing up,” he remarked casually. “There’s a subtle change since I last saw you. Interesting. What’s this fellow been doing to you the last three months?”

  She replied before she could check herself.

  “He’s taught me the value of friendship and the sense of belonging. Fallow’s a home now.”

  Mick’s eyebrows nearly touched his smooth blond hair. “What a prim little sentence,” he drawled. “I believe you’ve fallen for the chap.” The look on his face was rather sardonic. Sarah was furious with herself for making that remark, furious with Mick at his reception of it.

  “At least I owe him something,” she exclaimed. “He’s been decent to me, and I don’t break promises.”

  “Very laudable sentiments, and very young,” he said. “But I’m afraid you owe me something too, Sarah. A little matter of a hundred pounds.”

  Sarah stared at him, then she laughed.

  “Oh, but J.B. settled that for me,
” she said.

  He smiled, and she noticed for the first time that his teeth were rather pointed.

  “Oh, no, my dear, that was only part of your debt to me. I never put all my cards on the table at once,” he said, and watched the faint colour leave her face.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said.

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “I have your IOU. You can see it any time. You should keep account of your debts better than that.”

  “But—but I haven’t got a hundred pounds,” she stammered. “I can’t ask J.B. again. He’s just paid a pretty stiff bill of Peronel’s and he took rather a poor view of that. Mick, are you sure!”

  “Of course I’m sure, you silly child,” he replied. “But there’s no need to get into such a state about it. You could win it back in an evening. Your luck’s probably in again after this long break.”

  “No,” she said quickly, “gambling’s out.”

  “This sudden aversion to gambling interests me,” he said slowly. “It’s by far the most interesting aspect of the whole business. I would have staked a packet on your natural heritage getting the better of your scruples.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Well, isn’t there an old saying that what’s bred in the bone comes out in the blood? You’re your father’s daughter all over, Sarah.”

  She looked bewildered.

  “But did you know my father? John Silver wasn’t really my father, you know.”

  “John Silver? But don’t you know who your father was? Hasn’t Fane ever told you?”

  “Does he know?” asked Sarah, wondering for the first time why she had never been curious before.

  Mick laughed.

  “He has good reason to! Well, well, we seem to have several matters to discuss after all. I think you’d better manage that evening, before you go back, my dear.”

  Sarah felt frightened. All her avid perusals of Sophie’s lurid library books had not prepared her for a real life situation. She owed Mick a hundred pounds and he appeared to know something about her parentage which afforded him much satisfaction.

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to think,” she said.

  “I’ll ring you up tomorrow morning,” he told her, “so you’d better start shifting those dates around. Here’s Bill, and I must be going. Till tomorrow, then, my sweet, and don’t look at me as if you thought I was the ogre in a fairytale. I find you much too delectable to eat you up.”

  Sarah slept badly that night. The thought, of that hundred pounds kept returning to bother her, and by the morning she was no nearer any solution of the problem of finding it. It would take some time to save it up out of her allowance without James suspecting, and Mick, last night, had not given her the impression of a man who was prepared to wait. Yet it was the only way. She would have to give him that evening and persuade him as charmingly as possible to agree to the only proposition she could think of.

  When the following evening came and she stood ready waiting for Mick to call for her, it didn’t seem so very difficult after all. Mick was well off, he could afford to be generous.

  He treated her with the familiar studied attentiveness which she had once found so exciting. He made no mention of her debt to him, and by the time dinner was over and they were ready to dance, she was quite at ease with him. She chattered unceasingly, enjoying a festive occasion after such a long spell of early nights, and he listened with amusement, enjoying the flavour of her remarks and her obvious pleasure in the evening.

  But she was brought unpleasantly down to earth by a familiar voice which said:

  “Why, Sarah! I didn’t know you were in Town, my dear.”

  Sarah looked up and saw Clare Rosenheim standing by their table. She was wearing white and looked very lovely. She greeted Mick a little stiffly and remarked pointedly to Sarah: “Is Jim with you?”

  “No,” said Sarah shortly. “He’s down at Fallow. I’m staying with Peronel for a few days.”

  “I see,” said Clare pleasantly. “Quite recovered again, I hope? You mustn’t overdo things too soon, you know.” She bent over Sarah and added in an exaggerated whisper: “Does Jim approve of this little rendezvous, my dear?”

  “Of course,” said Sarah curtly.

  Clare still looked, faintly disapproving.

  “Then that’s all right,” she said gaily. “I’m lunching with him tomorrow. I suppose he’s taking you back with him. Well, au revoir, I’ll be seeing you some time, I expect.”

  She went back to her own table, and Sarah said: “Damn! Now of course she’ll tell him.”

  Mick was watching her curiously, his eyes on her white frock.

  “Clare should give up wearing white,” he remarked maliciously. “I shouldn’t worry, my sweet. She’ll only tell him if it suits her. Come and dance.”

  “No, let’s talk business,” she said. “After all, that’s really why I came.”

  “Not very flattering, are you?” he laughed. “Business can wait. In fact, if you’re prepared to see things my way, business can be wiped out altogether.”

  “How?”

  He looked amused and a little sceptical.

  “My dear Sarah, be your age!” he said lightly. “You know perfectly well that I find you damned attractive, and there was a time when you found me attractive too.”

  “Do you mean—” she began, and he moved impatiently.

  “Of course I do. What do you suppose all this nonsense is for, anyway? I don’t want your hundred pounds, but I do want you, my dear.”

  “But you’re married,” said Sarah naively, and he laughed. “My sweet, you can’t be as simple as that,” he retorted. “You stay with Peronel, who’s having an affair with Bill under your very nose. David’s been running that Blair girl until quite recently, although he appears to want to marry you. Not that,” he added seriously, “I wouldn’t marry you myself if I were free. I think it quite likely that I would—there’s something rather different about you in spite of. that blatant red hair. But as things are—well, I can promise you a very good time, and I’m told I’m an excellent lover. I’d be your first, wouldn’t I? That would be an enchanting experience.”

  She stared at him with increasing dismay.

  “Don’t look so horrified,” Mick said teasingly. “After all, it is done, you know.”

  “Not by me,” said Sarah quickly. “I don’t want that sort of relationship with any man.”

  “What a pity,” he said. “Marriage can be so very dull, as you’ll find out one of these days. Who is it? Young Summers or the faithful watch-dog?”

  “Nobody,” said Sarah slowly, and had a sudden stabbing memory of James saying: “If you married me, Sarah, you’d stay married.”

  “Oh, well, in that case, perhaps there’s hope for me,” Mick said lightly. “In the meantime, how are you going to explain away this little matter to your guardian?”

  “I’m not,” she said. “The only way I can pay you is by saving it out of my allowance. It will take a long time, but I promise I’ll pay back every penny.”

  The situation was amusing him.

  “That seems a very vague sort of proposition,” he remarked. “How am I to know that the allowance won’t suddenly be docked? And then where’s my security?”

  Her hands went nervously to her throat, and she twisted her fingers in and out of James’s string of pearls.

  “You’ll have to trust me,” she said, to which he replied half mockingly:

  “I’ve learnt not to trust anyone, my sweet, especially your charming sex.”

  Her fingers closed on the pearls.

  “I’ll leave you these,” she said impulsively. “They’ll be my security. They’re worth quite a bit.”

  She undid the clasp and dropped the pearls, a shining little pool of light, into the palm of his hand.

  He weighed them reflectively and examined the unusual jewelled clasp with interest.

  “Yes, fair enough,” he said. “But if you change your
mind, my dear, you can always have them back and something pretty to go with them as well.”

  “You’ll take care of them, won’t you?” she cried, and as she watched him slip the pearls carelessly into his breast pocket, she remembered Sophie saying: “Pearls mean tears.”

  It was snowing slightly as they left the restaurant and Sarah stood on the pavement shivering a little as they waited for a taxi. Once inside the cab, she sat well in a corner, thrusting her cold hands into the sleeves of her fur coat. She became aware of Mick’s fingers on her knee and heard his amused voice say in the darkness:

  “Why not play ball with me, Sarah? You and I could have a lot of fun, and what’s a gambling debt between friends?”

  “I only came out with you tonight because this had to be settled between us,” she said. “If J.B. knew, he’d be furious.” “And does his fury matter very much?”

  “No, but his good faith does.”

  His fingers tightened on her knee.

  “I wouldn’t take Fane’s professional interest too seriously if I were you, my dear,” he said casually. “Clare Rosenheim may be stupid, but she’s a very beautiful woman, and he was once in love with her.”

  ‘That was a long time ago,” Sarah said quickly.

  ‘True,” Mick admitted. “But Clare is a determined creature.”

  “So am I a determined creature,” said Sarah, hugging herself closer. “She’s not going to have him.”

  He laughed softly, and slipped an arm round her shoulders.

  “Funny child, aren’t you?” he observed. “You’re no match for Clare, if she really means business. Kiss me, Sarah, and stop scowling. The mature and sophisticated never attracted me, anyhow.”

  Mick had kissed her before, and she remembered that she had once found his experienced love-making exciting. But tonight she didn’t want him. Tonight, the hundred pounds, the pearls, James and Clare were all mixed up together in alarming confusion. She pushed Mick away and was glad when the taxi turned into Shepherd Market.

  He didn’t offer to come up to the flat with her, for which she was grateful, and she tried to think of a graceful speech. He smiled.