To My Dear Niece

by Hilda Nickson

  “Yes—if you’re sure you want me.”

  “Of course we do.”

  Vanessa smiled ruefully into her cup. “I’m afraid I was very rude to Ian this morning.”

  Freda laughed. “So was he to you, I gather. You’ll have to forgive Ian. He does tend to give the impression of being ‘in charge’. He doesn’t mean to dictate. It’s just that he’s so accustomed to taking responsibility, and being so fond of your aunt—”

  “I’d—rather he didn’t feel responsible for me, all the same,” Vanessa murmured.

  “He’s only trying to help,” Freda pointed out mildly.

  “I suppose so, and I appreciate his efforts, really I do, but I didn’t want the men to work for me for nothing. Why should they?”

  “Well, as for that, Vanessa, they were already being paid by Ian, you see. And the whole idea was to give you a hand and try to save you a little money. You’ll run out of it all too quickly, you know, if you don’t watch out.”

  “You make me feel ashamed.”

  Freda shook her head. “No need for that. If you feel so strongly about giving the men something, why not just give them a token payment: about a quarter the amount you did originally, which was almost the equivalent of a day’s wages.”

  But Vanessa was not quite convinced. “Are you sure the men didn’t want the extra money?”

  “Quite sure. They brought it to Ian to give back to you.”

  “Oh.”

  Freda looked at her downcast face. “Cheer up, we all make mistakes. I would just forget about this morning’s little scene, if I were you. Ian won’t want to be reminded of it.”

  “You’re a great peacemaker, aren’t you? I’m not usually so pigheaded. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”

  “It’s this house and everything. You’ve taken on a good deal.”

  “Don’t make excuses for me,” Vanessa told her. “I’ve been as stubborn as can be about the business of getting a phone. I wasn’t entirely penniless when I came down here—at least, I had enough money to pay for the installation of a telephone. Of course then, I didn’t want to use up my capital on something that didn’t seem necessary. But there’s been no excuse since finding the money Aunt Maud left me, and I did snap Ian’s head off about it. About a car, too.”

  “Well, I expect he tried to sell you the idea of having a car before your mind was really ready to accept it,” Freda comforted. “Anyway, I’ll tell Ian to keep on the look-out for one for you. You don’t have to have one, if you don’t want to. Ian will understand.”

  Will he? wondered Vanessa privately. He considered her to be difficult. The most difficult person he had ever met in his whole life. The reminder of it depressed her beyond belief, but she smiled and thanked Freda.

  “A telephone is the first step anyway. That will save me going to the booth. Maybe I can get firms to deliver things like sacks of potting soil and pots and so on. Meanwhile, if I want to go into town I can use the public transportation.”

  Freda pulled a face. “With two buses a day? And so far apart you have to hang around wasting time instead of being able to come back when you’re ready? Look, any time you want to pop into town just let me know. I’ll either come in with you, or you can borrow my car.”

  Vanessa had rarely met such generosity. But she knew the misunderstandings which could arise if one took advantage of such an offer too often, or at an inconvenient time. She simply must get a van or small car of some kind before long. She smiled and murmured her thanks, but Freda made a shrewd guess at her thoughts.

  “Look, Vanessa. Neither Ian or I want to force our help on you. We just want you to know you can call on us at any time. We’re your neighbors, and we want to be your friends, too. And what are friends for if not to lend a helping hand? So you will let us know, won’t you, if there’s anything we can do?”

  Vanessa had a sudden inspiration. “You could do one thing for me right away, if you would. Telephone the phone company and ask them to come and see me about getting the phone installed.”

  “I’ll do that with pleasure.”

  But when Freda had gone, Vanessa wondered how far, in actual fact, Freda had been speaking for Ian with regard to their being friends. Freda had done her best to speak peace, but Vanessa couldn’t help feeling that Ian was more angry than Freda would have her believe; that he was still angry, and had meant every word he had said this morning.

  The weather, at any rate, was on Vanessa’s side. By Saturday she and Joe had managed to clear several feet of weed on either side of the drive. She wished she dared spend some money on pot-grown roses, but she would need so many. She comforted herself with the thought that even bare earth looked better than rank weed. She would have almost forgotten about her date with Miles had not Nancy reminded her. Joe had finished work at 12 as he usually did on Saturdays, and Vanessa thought she would have a change from digging.

  “Good heavens, I almost forgot,” she said when Nancy reminded her.

  Nancy eyed her shrewdly. “You can’t be very keen if you nearly forgot,” she said.

  “Oh, I had been looking forward to going to the theater,” Vanessa assured her.

  “I meant you can’t be very keen on Miles Kendal as a person,” pursued Nancy.

  “I like him well enough, but that’s all. What else?” asked Vanessa.

  “What else is there usually, between a man and a woman?” Nancy queried pointedly.

  But Vanessa shook her head swiftly. “I’m not getting any of those kinds of notions about Miles Kendal or anyone,” she said firmly. “And I’m quite sure Miles hasn’t any ideas about me beyond ordinary friendship.”

  Later on, Vanessa was not quite so sure of that. Not only was he extremely charming and attentive, but over supper he began to talk in wistful terms about a real home of his own.

  “I don’t mean just a bachelor apartment like I have at the moment, but a house and a garden and—well, all that goes with it, like a—wife and children.”

  They were sitting side by side at a table. His hand reached out and grasped hers. Just how much significance there was in this, Vanessa dared not think, but she felt the only thing to do was treat him lightly.

  She laughed. “In that order?”

  He turned his head and eyed her seriously. “Let’s just say, at the moment, that until—a few weeks ago, I was quite content with my bachelor apartment and bachelor life.”

  Vanessa thought she had better not ask him why a few weeks ago.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  His shoulders lifted. “Well, you know, taking different girls out, generally living it up. But there comes a time when a fellow starts thinking about growing roots, if you know what I mean.”

  Vanessa tried another tack. “What about your parents. Miles? Wouldn’t you be happier living with them rather than on your own?”

  He shook his head. “Heavens, no, not where they live.”

  “Which is?”

  “Australia. They emigrated about two years ago, but I decided to stay here. They sold their house for capital and wanted me to go with them, naturally, but—well, I was engaged at the time, and—”

  Vanessa knew a swift reawakening of her own only recently healed wounds.

  “Oh. Miles, I’m sorry. What happened?”

  “She married someone else, but not to worry. I’m well over the little episode now. But what about you, Vanessa? How is it that an absolutely marvelous girl like you is still free?”

  “I suppose because I’ve still to meet the right person. Like you I’ve—had my disappointments.”

  “I just can’t believe it—a wonderful girl like you. Attractive, intelligent—”

  She laughed. “Easy on the compliments! You’ll have me getting a swollen head.”

  “Not you.”

  When he drove her back to Puck’s Hill, he seemed in no hurry to say goodnight. But when she asked him in for coffee, he declined.

  “Let’s just sit here and talk for a while
. Somehow that house depresses me.”

  Vanessa admitted that it was not very homey. “But it will be by the time I’ve finished with it.”

  “I’m sure.” His arm slid across her shoulders and his lips brushed her cheek. “I’m sure you’re a wonderful homemaker, but a house like that was meant for a staff of servants.”

  His lips found hers, but Vanessa’s mind was too occupied by what he had just said to respond very much. Sometimes she felt Miles was so right, her courage failed her. She pushed against him.

  “Please, Miles, if you don’t mind. I’d rather go in now.”

  Very slowly, he removed his arm. “I expect you’re tired—and no wonder.”

  “I am rather—but it’s been a lovely evening, Miles. Thank you so much.”

  He walked with her to the door of the house. As she was about to say goodnight to him, he suddenly put his arms around her and pressed his lips hard on hers. But Vanessa had never been one to indulge in this sort of thing lightly. “Please, Miles—”

  “What’s the matter? Don’t you like me?”

  “Of course I like you, but—”

  “But you’re tired. I understand.” He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a long look, a fond smile on his face. “I can’t tell you what this evening has meant to me. When can I see you again? Soon?”

  She gave him a faint smile in return and nodded, but felt vaguely uneasy at the change in him. At the present moment, she did not want anything deeper than ordinary friendship from any man.

  “The phone company is coming to install my telephone on Monday,” she told him evasively. “I’ll give you a call, then you’ll know my number.”

  “You—do want to see me again?” he queried, a note of anxiety in his voice.

  “Of course. But at the moment, with so much to do. I’d rather not make too many arrangements in advance. You’re always welcome to drop in. But now I really must go in.”

  She made her way inside wondering whether Miles always behaved in such a way when he took a girl out for an evening, or whether he was becoming serious about her. She hoped not. She liked him well enough, but that was all.

  She slept late the next morning and was awakened by Nancy with a breakfast tray. Vanessa sat up sleepily as the older woman poured out a cup of tea for her.

  “This is terrible. It’s I who should be doing this for you,” she protested.

  “Nonsense. You’re working hard. You need someone to ‘mother’ you. In any case, I had my breakfast over an hour ago.”

  “Mother me?” Vanessa laughed. “I never had this kind of spoiling from my own mother.”

  “Maybe you didn’t work so hard, either.” Nancy looked down at Vanessa, her face serious. “Are you sure you’re doing the right thing by trying to make this place earn money? Don’t you think you’re taking on too much, doing work which is much too heavy for a woman? You should be thinking of getting married.”

  “Married!” For a split second Vanessa experienced small stabs of something like pain. Then she laughed. “Don’t you start, Nancy. You sound almost like Miles Kendal.”

  Nancy stared at her. “You don’t mean he’s asked you to marry him?”

  “No, not yet—and I’m not saying he intends to, but he was making some very odd noises last night.”

  Nancy shook her head gravely. “I wouldn’t trust that young man any farther than I could throw him. No, Ian’s the one for you, Vanessa.”

  At this, everything within Vanessa seemed to freeze.

  “Now you’re talking nonsense. Ian Hamilton is the very last person I would marry. But there’s no need to worry. He is the one person who will never ask me.”

  “I’ll leave you to eat your breakfast.” Nancy answered and left the room.

  Vanessa gave a long sigh as she tackled her toast and honey. Ian Hamilton did not even like her, nor she him.

  Dressing to go to the Lodge for lunch Vanessa could not help wishing she had bought more clothes. After changing her mind several times she chose a dress she had bought last year and which she had scarcely worn; a simple, easy-to-wear white dress with groups of narrow pleats from neck to hem. She was wondering whether to walk around by the road, or pop over the fence dividing the two properties when Freda drove up.

  “I thought I’d better collect you,” she said. “It’s a long walk by road. Walking through some parts of the woods can be tricky, especially while there’s so much clearance being done.”

  Vanessa was consumed with curiosity to see what the Hamiltons’ home was like. Freda drove in what amounted to a semicircle—left, left through the village and left again through an open gateway which in the Colonel’s time was always closed, along a winding drive flanked with beautiful specimen trees and evergreen shrubs, to the house itself made of red brick and rich cedar, blending together perfectly. Running the entire length of the house was a veranda gay with red geraniums and fuchsia, while the surrounding garden was an absolute picture—smooth green lawns, colorful flower beds, roses and pergolas against a background of trees. Vanessa let out an involuntary exclamation of admiration.

  “Oh, Freda, when I think of my wilderness!”

  “Yours will soon be every bit as nice as this the way you’re progressing,” Freda comforted.

  “Do you sit out here much?” Vanessa asked as they mounted the wooden steps to the veranda.

  “Not really,” Freda told her. “We prefer the back of the house. Come and see.”

  Vanessa had subconsciously geared herself to meet Ian as soon as she arrived. There was still no sign of him as she followed his sister into a wide, carpeted hall and through a pair of very beautiful glass doors to a large sun-lounge, its sliding doors opening onto a paved patio.

  “Oh, how lovely!” cried Vanessa.

  A fountain played in a small pool, cascades of color overflowed from hanging baskets, and spilled out of urns and flower troughs. White-painted garden furniture added a touch of elegance as well as luxury. Inside the sun-lounge were comfortable basket chairs, palms, ferns and other graceful plants.

  “Make yourself at home,” invited Freda. “I’ll just pop into the kitchen to see how lunch is getting along.” Vanessa sank into one of the lounge chairs, and for a moment or two allowed their comfort to take possession of her. Then she rose and went to sit on the edge of the raised pool to watch the goldfish darting like flashes of copper light hither and thither. She trailed her fingers in the clear water, warmed by the sun and became lost in a vague, misty world of dreams; one of happiness and heart’s desire, love and peace. Then, without actually seeing him, she became aware of Ian standing a few yards away. She looked up to find him watching her, an odd expression on his face.

  “Hello, Vanessa,” he said quietly.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Vanessa rose slowly, her gaze riveted to his face. “Hello, Ian.”

  He moved toward her, and the brief moment of something which had been beyond understanding passed.

  “You look very charming this morning,” he said in a faintly mocking tone. “And so relaxed there by the pool.”

  Sensing an underlying sarcasm, she chose not to accept the compliment. “It’s so restful and attractive out here, I’m afraid it emphasizes the state of my place.”

  “You have the satisfaction of creation still to come,” he answered. “This place wasn’t the way I liked it when—Freda and I first came to live here.”

  She noticed the hesitation, as if he had been going to say something and then changed it. She realized how little she knew about Ian Hamilton and his sister.

  “Did you buy the place or—inherit it?” she asked.

  He stared at her for a moment. “What made you think we’d inherited it? The previous owner was no relative of ours.”

  An unexpected relief washed over her. “I—don’t know why I thought that. This house and the woodlands have always been considered to be a sort of hunting ground and—”

  “And you considered me to be a rich playboy,” he finish
ed, as she hesitated, seeking for her next phrase.

  “I hadn’t really thought much about what you were,” she answered coolly.

  “And you’re not interested.”

  His tone was accusing. “I didn’t say that,” she flashed back at him.

  For a moment there was a sharp silence between them, then as if remembering his duty as host, he relaxed.

  “Sit down, won’t you, and let me get you a sherry—or is there some other drink you’d prefer?”

  She sat down on the padded seat of the white wrought-iron sofa. “A sherry would be very nice, thank you.”

  He went inside and reappeared almost immediately with a tray on which was a decanter and glasses. He poured out two glasses and handed one to her, then sat half turned to face her. They sipped in silence for a minute or two, then feeling it was up to her to show some interest in the home of her host and hostess, she asked, “Was this sun-lounge and patio here when you bought the house or have you had them added?”

  “Half and half,” he told her. “There was a veranda of sorts, but it was rather gloomy and depressing with a tiled roof and a wooden rail around in the real hunting lodge style. The patio was just a neglected yard, the paving cracked and uneven, the various outbuildings bare and ugly. But it had a sunny exposure, and I Firmly believe a place in which one can relax is essential. So we had a glass roof and sides put in the veranda, sliding plate glass doors along the entire front, as you can see, and some new floor covering. Then we laid colored paving slabs out here and covered the outbuildings with either trellis work or decorative bricks. A few plants and climbers did the rest.”

  “Not to mention this elegant garden furniture,” Vanessa said wistfully.

  “They were Freda’s idea. In fact, she bought them. I would most likely have made do with canvas chairs and a homemade table of some kind.”

  Vanessa was about to ask him why he and his sister had chosen to live at Bam Hill, and why they lived together rather than with their parents, when Freda joined them, and with her a young man with fair hair, wearing slacks and a white open-necked shirt. Freda made the introduction.