Man of the Trees

by Hilary Preston

  Ruth woke up happy the following morning, a barely suppressed joy in her heart that she loved. The world seemed a happier place, the sun shone more brightly, everything seemed new and wonderful. She could hardly wait to see Ross again. Swallowing a hasty breakfast, she arrived at the house half an hour or so before her usual time. She let herself in the front door, and her heart leapt into her throat as she encountered Ross emerging from the kitchen clad only in his trunks.

  His lips curved into an amused smile as he saw her startled expression.

  ‘Good heavens, you’re bright and early this morning. What’s the matter? Couldn’t you sleep?’

  She gave him an uncertain, appealing glance. ‘Ross, must you be so sarcastic all the time?’

  His dark brows wrinkled into a puzzled frown and his disturbing gaze searched her face questioningly. She began to panic. He mustn’t guess how she felt about him, he simply mustn’t. He took a step nearer to her, and the pungent smell of his after-shave invaded her nostrils and took possession of her senses like an incense.

  ‘What’s this?’ he asked in a low, seductive voice which seemed to hypnotise her. ‘You seem different this morning.’

  It was warm and she was wearing a sleeveless dress in a kind of denim material. Ross put his hands on her bare arms, and her heart beat painfully and erratically. Some wild notions were going through her mind, notions which never should be there. If he kisses me or puts his arms around me, I shall be lost, her feverish mind thought. Summoning up every ounce of moral strength she possessed, she pushed him away from her.

  ‘Please, let me go. I—I came early so that I could talk to you about renting that house. I’m—sorry if I’ve arrived too early for you. Perhaps you’d like me to make some tea, or cook you some breakfast while you dress?’

  He dropped his hands, then threw back his head and laughed, obviously enjoying her discomfiture.

  ‘Don’t tell me my semi-nudity is shocking you? After all, my underpants are not nearly as—shall we say—revealing as a pair of swimming trunks. Still, if you’re squeamish, I’ll go up and put some clothes on. As a matter of fact,’ he added, ‘I was, at the very moment of your arrival, in the act of making my morning tea. Yes, perhaps you would oblige—and thank you. And join me, of course. That is, if I may say so without being accused of inviting you in your own house.’

  He was laughing at her again. Formerly, Ruth would have snapped back at him, but now she felt more hurt and confused than angry. His voice had been loaded with a kind of sarcastic politeness, and she wished she could summon up some of her former anger. All she could do was march past him into the kitchen without a word.

  The kettle was almost on the boil. When her limbs had ceased their trembling, she made the tea and set out two cups and saucers on a tray. The smell of his aftershave still lingered and his bare, well-proportioned body swam before her eyes. It wasn’t fair, she said to herself. No man should be so devastatingly attractive. The sooner she was out of his house where she wouldn’t see so much of him the better, though at the same time the thought desolated her. If he were to ask her now to marry him—even in a joke—she would accept, whatever his reason for asking her. But of course he was not likely to do that.

  Ross appeared just as she was carrying in the tray. He wore a cream-coloured silk shirt and a pair of brown, fine-cut slacks, and she had never loved him so much.

  ‘Would you—like me to cook you some breakfast?’ she asked jerkily.

  He shook his head. ‘No, no, I don’t bother much with breakfast.’

  ‘Then you should,’ she answered swiftly.

  His eyebrows raised, he gave her a swift glance. ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes—oh,’ she came back with some of her old spirit ‘I’m surprised at you. You lead an active life, you should eat some breakfast.’

  There was a humorous twist to his mouth which she once hated but now loved.

  ‘Are you trying to lecture me, Ruth?’

  ‘Call it what you like. I’m going to make you some toast and marmalade. It won’t take a minute.’

  Buoyed up at the idea of doing something for him, she went out without waiting for a reply from him. Ridiculously, the small task of preparing some breakfast for him filled her with a satisfaction she would have pooh-poohed only a few days ago. The morning paper arrived just in time for her to put that on the tray, too, and when she went back into the living room with it, he gave her that small, twisted smile of his.

  ‘Well, well, all the luxuries of a first class hotel! And do you know, come to think of it, I am hungry.’

  He tackled the toast and marmalade with gusto, and she poured him another cup of tea.

  She drank one with him, and at his insistence, also ate a piece of toast. When the last slice had been consumed he rubbed his hands together with satisfaction.

  ‘Terrific,’ he announced. ‘You should come and make breakfast for me every morning.’

  She winced inwardly. If he only knew how she longed to do just that—make his breakfast every morning for the rest of her life. She had never realised how domestically-minded she could be. This couldn’t be her. It must be someone else.

  ‘Well, when are you going to move in?’ he asked unexpectedly.

  Her heart leapt. She stared at him blankly. ‘Move in?’ she repeated. ‘Move in where?’

  ‘In the new house, of course. Where did you think I meant?’ he asked giving her with a quizzical half-smile.

  She coloured. For a wild moment she had thought he meant move in here with him. How easy it was going to be to give herself away!

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, assuming a carelessness she did not feel. ‘I was miles away. Anyway, when I asked you yesterday, you only said you’d consider the question.’

  He laughed. ‘All right, so I’ve considered it. If we can agree on the subject of rent, you can move in any time you want.’

  ‘What—what sort of rent were you asking?’ she queried, hoping the sum wouldn’t be too much of a drain on her financial resources.

  ‘Nothing,’ he answered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said nothing.’

  She clicked her tongue impatiently. ‘But that’s ridiculous! I must pay something, otherwise I can’t take it.’

  He shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. It’ll only stand empty if you don’t use it.’

  She couldn’t understand him at all. But he got to his feet and said he must be going as if that was an end of the argument.

  She gave a large sigh. ‘Ross, give me one good reason why you should let me have your house rent-free.’

  ‘One good reason? Well, how will this do? I know you’ll appreciate the house and look after it, so do you want the place or don’t you?’

  She still didn’t understand, but she did not argue any more. He departed, and she cleared away the breakfast dishes and then went upstairs to her studio. With a heavy heart she thought she knew why he was offering her the place. He wanted both her and her furniture out of this house as soon as possible so as to make room for the kind of furniture Linda wanted, that was it. She still couldn’t understand why he didn’t want to charge her any rent, unless it was that he did not want to add to his income and so increase the amount of income tax he would have to pay.

  Throughout the whole day Ruth found it difficult to concentrate on her work. Half expecting that either Gareth or Ross himself might drop in around lunch time for a coffee, she left the back door unlocked. But neither of them did, and she didn’t know whether she was glad or sorry. She was sorely tempted to stay on until Ross arrived home at his usual time, but the thought that he might have Linda with him put her off the idea. It would be better, anyway, she decided, not to see Ross any more than necessary. He upset her too much. The only thing she could do was to try to forget him. It wouldn’t be easy, but she must try.

  Oddly enough, she did not see either Gareth or Ross for several days. Each morning when she arrived at the Forester’s house Ross had already left, and she told herself she was
glad. Each evening she made herself leave well before he was expected home. Gareth did not call either at the house or at Mrs. Smith’s. Ruth felt in some kind of limbo in which she dreamed constantly of Ross and hovered between misery and a golden haze of being in love.

  Gareth called to see her on the Friday evening before the Club dance to which he had asked her to go.

  ‘Sorry I haven’t been able to get to see you the last few days,’ he told her. ‘We’ve been extra busy. You know what it’s like when the weather’s dry and there are hordes of holidaymakers and trippers in the Forest Hugh has been off work for a day or two as well. He hurt his back—but he’s all right now.’

  He sounded odd, over-bright and unconvincing. ‘That’s all right, Gareth,’ she told him. ‘I’ve been busy, too.’

  ‘That’s all right, then. And how’re you getting on with friend Hamilton? Moved into that house of his yet?’

  ‘You said to let you know when I was going to move and you’d help me,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I did, of course,’ he said swiftly. ‘But I thought as I hadn’t seen you for a day or two, and if he was in a hurry to get you out of the Forestry house, he might have helped you.’

  ‘I would hardly have moved without letting you know,’ she pointed out mildly, wondering what was wrong with him. His general attitude seemed so odd. ‘Actually,’ she went on, ‘I’ve hardly seen Ross for the past few days. I’ve—avoided him rather.’

  Gareth’s eyes widened. ‘Good, I’m glad to hear it. I was half afraid he might win you over.’

  ‘Win me over?’ she reiterated. ‘What on earth do you mean?’

  ‘Well, you know. You didn’t like him at one time, but I thought you seemed to be getting friendly with him. I notice you call him Ross.’

  ‘But surely you don’t expect me to go on calling him Mr. That’s ridiculous!’

  ‘It slips off your tongue so easily, that’s all.’

  Ruth closed her eyes momentarily, then opened them again with a sigh. ‘Let’s talk about something else,’ she pleaded. ‘Are we still going to the Club dance tomorrow?’

  ‘Of course. That’s really what I came to see you about—among other things, such as just to see you. If you’re still in the Forestry house, I insist on calling for you. You remember what happened last time you drove yourself?’

  ‘Well, yes, but if you’re a car driver, that kind of thing can happen at any time.’

  She couldn’t help recalling that night, how Ross had picked her up, made her take off her wet things and made her a hot drink. That was the first time he had taken her in his arms and kissed her too. How badly she had wanted to put her arms about his neck and kiss him passionately. She had been in love with him then, of course, without realising it. But why had he kissed her? Not because he had any fondness for her, she thought, with a painful twist of her heart. Perhaps because he had been angry with her. She had told him—and at the thought of it she told herself ironically that she must have been mad—that she would not marry him if he were the last man on earth. If he were to ask her now—even in jest—she would not say no.

  ‘Well, I don’t want it happening again.’

  Gareth’s voice brought her out of the mist of her private world with a start.

  ‘What?’ She gave him a blank look. ‘Don’t want what happening again?’ she asked as he repeated what he had said.

  He sighed and shook his head at her. ‘I’m not having you break down—or risking it—at that hour of night again. It’s too dangerous.’

  At any other time Ruth would have appreciated his concern, but now she didn’t want his caring. All she wanted was Ross.

  Ruth had been in the habit of not painting on Saturdays, but using at least the mornings to clean up the house. Should she go along as usual? she wondered the following morning. She decided she had better, even though she was torn two ways about meeting Ross, as Saturday was not a working day for the Forestry personnel normally. But she really ought to start putting her belongings together for the move, in any case, as Ross had said he wanted her to rent the new house.

  She went along, and found the house silent and empty. All was clean and tidy in the kitchen and living room, and she couldn’t help wondering who had been doing the housework. She herself had not done a great deal during the week. She never did when she was working. Had Ross done it himself? Or worse still, had Linda been in? Housework was not Linda’s favourite occupation, Ruth felt sure of that, but if she were going to marry Ross and he hadn’t yet found any domestic help—

  With a heavy heart she went up to her studio and began to wrap up her finished canvasses and tidy up in general. She wondered whether Ross would be going to the Club dance, but realised that even if he did, he would be with Linda.

  Presently, she heard the slam of a car door, then as she paused in her task to listen, she heard his key in the lock and the front door open and close. She half expected him to come up and find her, as her own car was standing outside, but he didn’t. She carried on for a little while, deliberately making a noise at times in the hope that he would come up to find out what she was doing, but it was no use. Then at last she heard his footsteps on the stairs and with bated breath and a longing that was almost a pain she waited for him to climb the steps up to her studio. When he didn’t she concluded he had gone into his room.

  Unable to concentrate any longer, Ruth went down to the bedroom level. His door was closed. She hesitated for a moment or two, then knocked.

  “Ross, would you like a coffee?’ she called out.

  She expected him to open the door, but he didn’t. He called out in a distant voice: ‘Thanks. Be down in a few minutes.’

  Ruth went downstairs and made the coffee and put out some biscuits and cheese, but still Ross did not come down. She called upstairs, but there was no reply. Fearing the coffee might become cold, she went upstairs and knocked on his door again. This time he called to her to come in.

  He was standing at the window gazing out on to the Forest and did not move even when she entered. Ruth approached him almost timidly.

  ‘Coffee’s ready, Ross,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks,’ he answered without looking at her.

  Ruth looked at his face. There were tense lines around his mouth and his dark brows were knit in a frown.

  ‘Is—is there anything wrong?’ she asked.

  ‘Hm?’ He turned then and looked at her almost as though he did not recognise her. Then he sighed and the lines of tension on his face eased a little. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something wrong somewhere. I’ve just done a round of the most vulnerable places, I’ve been keeping the men busy cutting and trimming the rides, I’ve had brashing done and made sure it’s all collected up. I’ve detailed men to keep a particular eye on the plantations, but still—’

  ‘It’s the fire risk you’re worried about? But you must be well used to that. It’s a continuous hazard, especially at this time of the year and when the weather is dry.’

  He nodded, then suddenly turned to look at her. ‘Of course. Let’s go down and have that coffee.’

  They went downstairs and neither spoke until they were seated with their drinks. Ross was still preoccupied, and Ruth was acutely aware of him, reaching out to him with all her mind and heart, wanting to go over to him, to touch him. But she did not even trust herself to sit on the hearthrug, and wished she had taken the drinks out on to the lawn.

  ‘Haven’t seen anything of you for a few days,’ Ross said suddenly. ‘What’ve you been doing?’

  “The usual. Painting.’

  ‘And what else? Been seeing Gareth?’

  ‘Well, I—’

  ‘I suppose he’s taking you to the Club dance tonight?’ he said without looking at her.

  ‘Er—yes. Are you going?’

  ‘Possibly. What were you doing up in your attic just now?’

  ‘Gathering some of my things together.’

  ‘What for?’
r />   She gave a puzzled frown. ‘Getting ready to move out, of course.’

  ‘Oh, that. Well, there’s no hurry,’ he said absently. Ruth began to wonder if he and Linda had quarrelled or something. Either that, or he was extremely worried about the things that had been happening in the Forest recently. Remembering how angry he had been the last time she mentioned things that had been going wrong on his Beat, however, she did not feel she dared do so again.

  ‘Are things—settled about the house you’re buying?’ she ventured, unable to think of anything else to say.

  ‘My solicitor is attending to the formalities,’ he answered without looking at her.

  He was so distant, so aloof, Ruth began to wonder if she had offended him in any way. She would far rather be quarrelling with him than this cold politeness. Having finished her coffee, she rose, and seeing his cup was empty too, she gathered the things together, and without another word took them out. She was passing the telephone when it began to ring. She put the tray down and lifted the receiver.

  ‘Oh, Ross darling—’ came a feminine voice before Ruth had time to say as much as ‘hello’. Her grip on the receiver tightened.

  ‘It’s—Ruth Medway here. I’ll get him for you,’ she said in a hollow voice as she realised it was Linda at the other end.

  ‘Ruth? Oh, you’re still around, are you? I’d have thought you’d be gone by now. Well, get Ross for me, will you?’

  Feeling as though she had received a slap in the face, Ruth called Ross, then went through into the kitchen. She rinsed the cups quickly and left them to drain. She just wanted to get back to the privacy of her studio. She rushed past Ross as he listened intently to what Linda was saying, and ran up the stairs. Once in her studio she wept as though her heart would break. Vaguely, she heard a faint tinkle as Ross replaced the telephone receiver, then the slam of the front door followed by his car engine revving up. He had gone without so much as calling up to tell her he was going, and at the realisation afresh that he cared little or nothing for her, a renewed sense of desolation engulfed her.