'Thank you dear. I told Mrs Waters you wouldn't mind popping in to see her. She swears you are the only doctor who understands her constitution.'
'Or the only one who's prepared to tell her she eats too much!' he said with a laugh. 'I'll be back soon.'
'And I'll show Nell the garden while you're gone. I'm very proud of my roses this year,' she went on after Paul had crossed the lawn and passed through a small gate set in the hedge. 'Let's go this way first.'
'They are lovely, and the scent's so strong!' Nell marvelled, bending to sniff at a glorious white cabbage-like bloom.
'My favourite flower. Victoria liked them too.'
'Victoria?' For a wild moment Nell wondered if she was talking about the old Queen, then told herself not to be silly.
'My god-daughter. The only child of a very dear friend. You may have seen her portrait, Paul still has the painting that was done of her on her seventeenth birthday. He keeps it in his study at home. She and Paul were going to be married.' Nell opened her mouth, but found she couldn't speak. Fortunately Mrs Mandeville had moved on. 'He hasn't got over her death yet. She died, you know, a few weeks before their wedding. Her horse took fright at something and bolted with her, and before anyone could reach her they had fallen over a cliff. So tragic, and Paul was there too, he had to try and help her. She died in his arms. It's several years ago now, he wasn't even qualified. They were both so young, but so very much in love. I hope one day he'll get over it.'
She walked on, and clearly didn't expect any comment. She began to talk about the other plants, some of which Nell remembered seeing in her grandparents' garden, and Nell was able to reply with reasonable calm. Poor Paul, she was thinking. What a terrible thing to have happened. It must be devastating to lose the person you loved. As they turned back towards the house Mrs Mandeville smiled brightly at her.
'My dear, don't tell him I told you. I don't expect he'll have mentioned it to you, he hates speaking about Victoria. But he can't mourn her for ever. One day he must look for a wife. I just pray he will find a suitable girl, one who can support him properly, understand his work, be a hostess for him. He needs someone from his own background, someone who understands his kind of life. He has the potential to make a great name for himself, if only he has the right kind of wife.'
***
Chapter 15
Nell was quiet on the drive home, biting back almost every remark she thought of making. She couldn't find anything which wasn't connected with the dreadful loss Paul had suffered, and was terrified of letting drop what Mrs Mandeville had told her, and reviving his misery. Fortunately Paul decided she must do most of the driving, and took her silence to be concentration.
'You are doing really well,' he praised her when she came to a halt outside The Firs. 'Next time you must drive a little way by yourself, knowing you are on your own is an enormous boost to confidence. I'd better go home and change. I'll see you at the party.'
Gwyneth was climbing the stairs when Nell went in, and Nell followed her up to her room.
'Did you have a nice time?' Gwyneth asked.
'Yes, thank you,' Nell replied slowly.
'I saw you come right up to the house. You seem to be doing well.'
'Paul's such a marvellous teacher. Perhaps you should ask him to teach you?'
'No!'
'Gwyneth, are you still frightened?'
Gwyneth shuddered. 'I'll never forget driving home in the dark, knowing that any minute I might tip over into a ditch, or get a puncture and not have the slightest idea how to change the wheel.'
'Paul once said that if you had a fright, you needed to face up to whatever it was that had frightened you as soon as possible. If you didn't, it became more and more frightening.'
'I'm sure he's right, but I won't go crawling to him begging favours!'
'I don't think he'd be offended, Gwyneth, he's so nice.'
'Are you falling for him?'
Nell laughed. 'Of course not! I just like him, he's kind and friendly, he doesn't frighten me like Timothy does. And that's not because of what he tried to do to you, I was a bit frightened of Timothy before, he always seemed so – I don't know – so superior, and he knew it.'
'He likes you.' She couldn't drop the subject, painful though it was. Gwyneth had watched Paul's growing friendship with Nell, and fought to suppress her own longings for him. Yet it was like a scab, unhealed, and she had to pick at it all the time to make the pain sharper.
'Paul? Not like that. Besides, I'm not suitable for him. Did you know he was engaged and his fiancée died just before the wedding?' She had to discuss it with someone. Kitty probably already knew, she'd known Paul for years, but somehow Nell didn't want to talk about Paul to Kitty.
'Paul? Engaged? Did he tell you?'
'No, his mother mentioned it. The girl was thrown from a horse, and she says he's never got over it. I feel so sorry for him. It must be even worse than not knowing what's happened to Amy. At least I can hope she's safe somewhere.'
Gwyneth crossed to the wardrobe. 'I'm sure she will be, Nell. But look at the time, we'd better get changed. Do you want the bathroom first?'
*
Tom was wary. Tonight was going to be tricky. He had to find time to talk to Nell without Kitty becoming suspicious. He'd half planned to miss the party, then persuaded himself he could carry it off. Kitty was the hostess, after all, she must pay some attention to her other guests, and that would give him a chance to talk to Nell. It would look odd if he didn't. Kitty couldn't possibly object.
The sheer dazzlement which had held him in thrall for weeks was beginning to fade. At first he had been bewildered, then astounded, to have an upper class girl like Kitty literally throw herself in his arms. Then for a time he had forgotten Nell completely while Kitty made it plain she wanted nothing more than to be with him. Each Sunday she had driven them to some isolated spot in the countryside, produced a picnic basket and a bottle of wine, and asked for nothing more than a few kisses and to be told the story of his life. He'd begun to feel no end of a swell fellow.
'You don't seem very fond of me, Tom,' she'd pouted the previous week when they'd finished eating and were drinking the last of the wine.
'But of course I am,' he protested.
'Then show it, darling,' she demanded, lounging back on the rug and stretching out her hand to pull him down beside her. 'You're not afraid of me, are you?' she whispered in his ear.
'Of course not.' He tried to sound confident, and since his hand had somehow come to rest in the vicinity of her breast, and she didn't seem to have noticed, he ventured to stroke her gently. Her reaction startled him.
'Ah, Tom! That's nice! Do it again!'
He swallowed hastily, but he did it again. Kitty rolled towards him and he found his hand trapped between their bodies as she pressed hard against him. After a while she moved away and sat up.
'It's no good here. Tom, I know a very discreet little hotel, in Lichfield. We'll be home much earlier in a fortnight, when we're in Birmingham. We could get there late on Saturday night and have two nights together. Wouldn't that be utterly divine? If I give you the telephone number, can you book a room, for Mr and Mrs Simmons?'
Alarm bells had begun to ring. Tom had been out with few girls until he took out Nell, and he'd been rather shocked at the abandoned way Kitty kissed him. Women shouldn't behave in such a forward manner. They should leave it to men to initiate what love-making they considered appropriate. It was exciting, true, but he didn't think it was quite nice, with open mouths and tongues all tangled up. It did odd things to him, evoked sensations he'd always been taught were wicked. And he wasn't at all sure he wanted to spend a weekend in a hotel with Kitty masquerading as his wife.
For one thing, it was inevitable that someone would discover it. That would be disastrous for his career. Equally important, he wasn't at all confident that he could become the sort of lover Kitty clearly expected. The coarse descriptions he had overheard from his male friends, to which he h
ad listened in sneering contempt, somehow didn't sound appropriate for Kitty. One of Tom's inflexible rules since his early teens had been to prepare himself thoroughly for everything he did, but he wasn't at all sure how this principle applied now.
He hadn't booked the room. He'd make some excuse, say he had to go to London on union affairs. And then if only he could get Nell to listen to reason they would both be free of the spell Kitty seemed to have cast over them.
Luckily Kitty was busy introducing some of the dancers she'd invited to the party to a couple of men when he arrived. He recognised them from his visit to the Walsall theatre and the party afterwards. He smiled at Kitty, and slid round the group on his way to find Nell.
She was talking to a tall, bronze-haired man who looked slightly familiar, and her Welsh friend Gwyneth was there too, with a tall, fair, languid man who had 'Eton' written all over him. Tom hovered nearby, hidden by a thriving aspidistra.
'Paul, I'm sure that if you gave Gwyneth just one lesson she'd get over this stupid fear,' Nell was saying.
'I'd be delighted, of course.'
'Nell! You mustn't ask Paul, he doesn't have enough time,' Gwyneth protested, blushing furiously.
'If I go down on my knees and apologise humbly, and vow never to take you near Manor Farm, will you come with me?' the languid fellow drawled. Tom saw Nell turn to look at him in surprise, then swing round to stare at Gwyneth when the latter, after a slight pause, laughed and put her hand on the last speaker's arm.
'If that's a promise, Timothy, I'll accept. Thank you, Paul, but I don't think I could face driving a different car just yet.'
Gwyneth and the man called Timothy moved away, and Tom hastily stepped forward. 'Nell, hello.'
'I'll see you later, Nell,' Paul said, and Tom was left in possession of the field.
'I have to talk to you, Nell. Is there somewhere we can go where we can be private?'
'Ma? Is she worse?' He didn't reply, but turned away and walked towards the dining room. It was too early for the guests to be there there at the moment, and they could be sure of a few minutes alone. 'Tom, what is it?' Nell demanded, following him in. 'Is it Ma?'
'Only indirectly, Nell. As you know, I haven't really approved of your actions, but I can understand how the glamour of the stage has attracted you. However, you've been performing for six months now, and I'm hoping you are ready to consider my proposal more seriously than last time.'
'Your proposal?'
'Yes, of course,' he said impatiently. 'Nell, I once asked you to marry me. I am repeating that offer. I have a better job now, one with more prospects, and I can say without boasting that I hope to rise to a much higher level in the union. I want you to share my life. I know you have been helping your mother with some of the money you have earned, and while I cannot undertake to offer to support your family, you will not find me ungenerous or censorious if you choose to spend some of your pin-money helping them.' There was a prolonged silence. 'Well, what do you have to say? You look surprised, but you need not be. You must know I have cared for you and still do, despite everything.'
Nell took a deep breath. 'Thank you Tom, I am flattered, but no.'
'No? Nell!' For the first time his voice held a shred of emotion. 'Nell, you can't mean that!'
'I'm sorry, Tom, but I do. I – respect you, but I don't want to marry anyone. Now I must go and see whether Kitty needs any help.'
Before he could move she had whisked out of the room. Tom began to follow, and then realised the futility of it. A slow, burning anger swelled up inside him, and he blundered into the hall, out of the house, and began to walk blindly towards his home.
*
They didn't need to leave the house until the evening. Gwyneth, apprehensive, had gone for her promised driving lesson with Timothy.
'If you insist on an unearthly hour in the morning, I doubt he'll have the energy to rape you,' Kitty said in a brittle tone.
Kitty for some reason was in a foul temper and had refused to lend Gwyneth the Austin. Nell took care to keep out of her way. She spent some time down in the stables, which she liked to do when she was disturbed, remembering her first visit there. She stroked the horses and nodded in sympathy as Betts muttered complaints that now Miss Kitty had this pesky motor the horses were growing fat.
'Only get out when Meggy goes ter shops,' he muttered. 'Miss Kitty don't even ride 'em now, and 'er used ter spend all 'er time ridin' when 'er was a nipper.'
Nell wished she could learn to ride, but it was an impossible dream. She could recall being lifted onto the back of a plump pony one day, when Gramps's employer had once been visited by a family with children who had brought their own ponies to ride in the Park. And she had occasionally, when Gramps had been safely out of the way, scrambled onto the back of Monarch, the huge carriage horse who was also, at harvest time, called on to help bring home the hay.
She was returning to the house half an hour later when, with an ominous coughing noise, Timothy's car rolled through the gateway. Nell ran towards the sound and was in time to see Timothy lifting Gwyneth down from the passenger seat. The car looked a wreck, its nearside light smashed, and the running board buckled. Elsewhere the paintwork was heavily scratched, and Timothy had difficulty in closing the door.
'Gwyneth! What on earth's happened? Are you hurt?'
'She's not hurt, just shocked,' Timothy said swiftly. 'Go and get Meggy to put some hot water bottles in her bed, and see if you can get hold of Paul. She needs something to calm her nerves.'
Gwyneth was sobbing convulsively, clutching at Timothy's arm as he carried her into the house. Nell fled to the kitchens, and while Meggy busied herself with filling hot water bottles from the kettle always kept simmering on the stove, tried to telephone Paul. She'd only used the telephone once before, but she knew Paul's number, and was soon asking for him. To her immense relief he replied and said he'd come round at once. She went to help Gwyneth into bed, and before they had settled her Paul was with them.
'No damage, just shock,' he said cheerfully. 'Here, take this, and after a sleep you'll be as right as rain.'
'The performance, tonight!' Gwyneth whispered.
'See how you feel when you wake up,' Paul replied. 'Now be a good girl, drink this, and you'll be better all the sooner.'
'I'll sit with her,' Meggy offered, and Paul smiled his thanks. Gwyneth's eyelids were already drooping, and he gently steered Nell out of the room.
'Let's go and find out what happened. I saw the car as I came in.'
Timothy was pacing to and fro in Kitty's sitting room, and Nell suddenly realised Kitty was absent.
'Where's Kitty?' she asked, but neither of the men knew.
'Probably gone shopping,' Timothy said brusquely. 'How's Gwyneth?'
This sounded quite likely, Kitty always went shopping when she was out of temper, and she'd been unaccountably touchy this morning.
'She's all right, don't worry. After she's slept she'll be quite back to normal,' Paul said reassuringly. 'Sit down, Timothy. What happened?'
'It wasn't her fault! She was doing quite well, but we were coming along Metchley Park Road when a child suddenly ran across in front of us. He came from nowhere, just appeared from behind the hedge. I thought he'd had it.' Timothy took out a large handkerchief and wiped his forehead.
'And?' Paul prompted.
'She reacted so fast I didn't even see! She swung the car over, and we finished up half way through the hedge! The child had vanished, and I had the devil of a job to get the damned motor back on the road. Luckily it was still working, though it began to sound odd as we got closer to The Firs. But I thought she'd fainted, and she was trembling so badly I was terrified! She isn't hurt?'
'Not at all, though she might have nightmares for a while,' Paul said cheerfully. 'I'll make her stay in bed for a day or so. The new act the girls are planning with Andrew should take her mind off it. And Timothy, do your best to get her into a motor as soon as possible. If yours has to be off the road for l
ong borrow mine.'
'When do you think she'll be able to dance?' Nell asked, her mind turning to immediate problems now she was reassured that Gwyneth wasn't hurt.
'Not tonight, she'll be exhausted from the effects of shock. I'll see her again tomorrow.'
'Then I'd better go and tell Mr Bliss, and decide how we reorganise the troupe. Thank goodness we have a rehearsal this afternoon.'
*
'You can do a solo dance,' Edwina said firmly.
'But I've never done one before,' Nell protested.
'Everyone has to start some time. And you are very good, but you've always felt yourself overshadowed by Gwyneth. Change into your practice clothes and we'll run through the one you've been learning. I think that with a slight amount of cutting you could do it tonight. And then we'd better make sure Gwyneth's costume fits you, it's different from the rest.'
There was little choice. The Bliss Beauties were becoming known for the variety of their speciality dances, but these had nearly all been performed by Nell and Gwyneth together, or the older girl alone. Now Nell had an intensive hour of practice, and for the first time had to cope with a huge headdress of ostrich plumes which gave her little time to worry about the scanty nature of the rest of the costume, cut in a deep V to her waist at the back, and with only miniscule straps holding up the front. She just had time to rush home to see how Gwyneth was before going to the theatre for the run-through.
Kitty had not reappeared at The Firs, and Timothy, having made arrangements with a garage on the Hagley Road for his car to be collected and taken away for repair, was still pacing up and down in the small sitting room.
'She'll be all right,' Nell said softly.
'I know, but I want to see her. I'll wait until she wakes up.'
'Tell her Mrs Bliss has reorganised the dancing, so that she won't worry. And give her my love.'
Kitty seemed to be her usual cheerful self when Nell reached the theatre, and full of concern for Gwyneth.
'You're sure she wasn't hurt?'
'Paul said not.'
'And do we cut the solo spot?'
The Glowing Hours Page 20
