The Man in Possession

by Hilda Pressley

  ‘Would you like one like that?’ asked Roger.

  ‘To own, you mean—for my private use?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Julia laughed. ‘Chance would be a fine thing! I suppose a little bit of luxury is nice now and then, and I don’t see why one should necessarily be uncomfortable on a boat. But seriously I’d much prefer to own either a half-decker or an auxiliary. Yes, I think that would be the height of my ambition. To own a two-berth auxiliary with all the mod. cons, like you’re planning, plus a few additions of my own.’

  ‘Such as? That’s something we haven’t gone into, isn’t it?’

  ‘Better weather protection for one thing so that you can cruise in all conditions without getting either wet or frozen to death, and for another, real cabin comfort such as upholstered backrests on the settee-berths, plenty of shelf-space, handy hooks for jackets as well as cupboard space.’

  ‘A Wingcraft Special,’ commented Roger.

  Occasionally Julia searched the crowds for a sight of Max, but did not see him even among those clustered around the auctioneer during the sale of the larger craft in which he usually displayed great keenness.

  ‘Quite an interesting day,’ Roger said when there remained only a few houseboats to auction. ‘But it’s getting chilly now. How about something more to eat?’

  And so they finished the day in one of the locals which served cold meats and salads and cheese and biscuits, and they became part of a group of people who had also been to the sale, discussing sales past and present, comparing prices and generally yarning about boats. Julia thought that, contrary to Max’s prophecy, Roger was settling down to life on Broadland very well indeed.

  On Saturday afternoon Julia had occasion to go into town. She did some shopping and finished her various errands, then dropped into a hotel for a cup of tea. She was passing the door of the lounge when she suddenly halted at the sight of two people sitting at the farthest end. For a moment she just stood and stared, scarcely able to believe her eyes.

  It was Max, and with him was Celia Palmer.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Julia was telling herself that it couldn’t be Max, he was in London, but suddenly he looked up and saw her. She turned away swiftly and, changing her mind about having tea there, crossed the foyer to the outer doors. But she had no sooner stepped on to the pavement when he caught up with her.

  ‘Julia, wait a minute!’

  She looked at him coldly. ‘So you changed your mind about going to London?’ She had a strong suspicion that he had never had any intention of going. She knew him well enough to know that he had no conscience about lying to get himself out of a difficulty.

  ‘It was Father who changed his mind,’ he told her quickly. ‘He decided to go himself. I was going to ring you. Then I came in here and met Celia—’

  Celia. Julia’s eyes widened. ‘And how long have you known Miss Palmer?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Look, Julia, I’ll explain everything to you when I see you on Monday. Right now I want to ask you not to mention to Leighton that you’ve seen Celia. She doesn’t want him to know she’s here. What I mean is, she wants to surprise him, to—to tell him herself. I understand he has rather a jealous disposition too, so if you don’t mind—’

  ‘Don’t worry, Max. I wouldn’t dream of telling him that I saw you together.’

  Relief showed in his face. ‘Good. See you on Monday, then, as arranged?’

  ‘Yes, all right.’

  She left him and he went back into the hotel. She wasn’t at all anxious to see him on Monday, but at least she would hear his explanation about Celia. She was reasonably sure that Roger had no idea the two knew each other at all, and she was happy that he was being deceived. She could well imagine that Roger could be a jealous man. Was that why Celia and he had quarrelled?

  Julia was no uneasy about the situation she did not bother about having tea after all. She drove straight back to the boatyard. She saw no sign of Roger, and his car was not standing outside the house as it so often was during the day. It was usually only last thing at night when he had finally finished with it that he ran it into the garage. The boatyard was deserted, the workmen having gone home and the few cruisers on hire had left their moorings for the week. It was too early in the year and too chilly for day boats to be hired, and Julia let herself into the houseboat feeling incredibly lonely.

  But about eight o’clock, just as it was growing dark, there came a knock on the door and she opened it to see Roger there. For a moment she felt guilty and wondered whether Celia had let him know yet that she was in the area. She really hated not being able to tell him and felt most disloyal.

  ‘I was wondering whether you’d like to come and play the piano for a while and have a drink with me,’ he said. ‘That is, if you’re not going out.’

  She experienced a small thrill of pleasure which was short-lived as she realized that Celia could not have contacted him.

  ‘No, I’m not going out,’ she told him. ‘Shall I come now, or—’ She glanced down at her dress, thinking she would like to change into something a little better.

  But he said: ‘Yes, come now. You don’t need to change on my account. You look very well as you are—and the place is hardly the height of luxury yet.’

  She slipped a coat across her shoulders and they walked across to the house together.

  ‘I thought if it’s a fine day tomorrow we might take one of the half-deckers out,’ he said. ‘Always with the proviso that you’re not otherwise engaged.’

  ‘The same goes for you,’ she answered. ‘And on that understanding, it’s a date.’

  ‘There’s not much chance of my being “otherwise engaged”,’ he said. ‘But—Max Windham apart—I can’t understand why you should be alone on a Saturday evening. Or any other evening. You ought to get out more—make some new friends.’

  His tone was almost accusing. She could not understand quite what he was driving at, and neither did she know exactly how to answer him. But she thought she ought to make some effort.

  ‘The boatyard keeps me pretty busy—and I’ve never been in the habit of going out on Saturday evenings in particular.’

  ‘Maybe not. I haven’t myself, but you’re practically married to this boatyard, and it isn’t right.’

  She looked at him in surprise. ‘If I’m happy, I don’t see why anyone else should worry.’

  He had nothing to say to that. They reached the house and he ushered her inside. By now, work on the structural alterations had been completed. Part of the wall separating lounge and dining room was gone and a most pleasing arch had been fashioned at each side where the division had been, giving rather a ‘classic ‘appearance to the room.

  ‘The heating engineers are coming in on Monday,’ he told her. ‘And when they’ve finished, the decorators will start.’

  ‘Will you just have this part done?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. ‘The whole house. Perhaps you’d take a look around before you go and give me your opinion about colour schemes.’

  ‘Yes, of course, but you mentioned the possibility of getting married. Oughtn’t your .future wife to be consulted?’

  He nodded. ‘She will be. Will you have a glass of sherry?’

  The evening passed very pleasantly. While they were having a drink he brought out some auxiliary yacht designs to show her, and she told him her ideas for either a forward drive or a well cover with a window so positioned that the user could be under cover when the yacht was being used as a cruiser. They had a most lively discussion, but at the end of it he approved her idea.

  ‘I’ll have a consultation with Frank Willis, then get a design drawn.’

  After this they went upstairs where there were three moderately sized double bedrooms and a fourth which would be equally suitable either as a single room or a boxroom.

  ‘What would you do with it?’ he asked her.

  ‘It’s hard to say. It depends on how much entertaining you intend doing. You’l
l probably be a fair target for those relatives who want a holiday in this area.’

  ‘Never mind about me. Suppose it were your house—how would you use it?’ he insisted.

  ‘Well, as you’ve got the other three rooms, I’d just redecorate this small one and leave it empty, see what the need turns out to be later. I’m no great believer in storing junk anyway. It could be used as a sewing room, a hobbies room, a—’

  ‘A nursery?’ he prompted, his lips curving into a smile.

  She nodded and smiled back at him. ‘Exactly.’

  They went from room to room. One bedroom was bigger than the other two. Julia suggested that there was enough space for a private bathroom and twin washbasins.

  ‘A sort of “his and hers”? Good idea.

  Julia had a sudden vision of him sharing this room with Celia and her mind boggled at the idea somehow. She suggested a colour scheme and was glad to move on to the other rooms.

  When they went downstairs again he insisted on Julia playing the piano while he went into the kitchen and made coffee. He had had the piano tuned, and it sounded good. She couldn’t help envying Celia—if it really was she whom he was going to marry. The houseboat was very nice and comfortable enough in its way, but it would be lovely to live in a house again, to have a piano one could just sit down and play at any time. There was one at home, of course. She began to realize how much she had missed music.

  ‘You play well,’ Roger remarked when he brought in a tray laden with coffee, sandwiches, cheese and biscuits.

  She swung round on the stool. ‘Not as well as I’d like to. I’m out of practice.’

  ‘You must remedy that when the men have finished the work.’

  But she felt sure he was only being polite. ‘Does Celia play?’ she asked, without thinking.

  ‘Celia?’ he repeated in a puzzled voice. ‘I don’t really know. I don’t think so.’

  The query didn’t seem to have pleased him, and she wished she had not made it.

  She eyed the tray and said, to cover up: ‘You’ve been busy. I wouldn’t have thought you were so domesticated.’

  He smiled. ‘Nothing to it. Ready sliced bread and ham—cheese and biscuits cook themselves, and Mrs. Harris does the shopping.’

  Picture of a bachelor. It didn’t seem right at all. ‘Anything I can do, any time,’ she offered.

  But he shook his head swiftly. ‘Mrs. Harris does it as part of her job. It isn’t a part of yours. Now—black or white?’ he added before she could answer him.

  She felt a little hurt and snubbed at his turning down her offer so unequivocally. He was a man whom it was difficult to understand at times. .

  She thought so even more the following day. It was fine and sunny with enough breeze to make the anticipation of some sailing—and with Roger—very, very pleasant indeed. No time had been mentioned, so as it was Sunday, Julia lingered over her morning tea, had a leisurely bath and a prolonged breakfast of bacon and egg and toast. She had a feeling that Roger Leighton would be the kind of man who liked a leisurely Sunday morning too, though for her part these would be curtailed as summer drew near and people wanted to take out boats for the day. When she had washed up and tidied the houseboat, she wandered outside hoping Roger would be somewhere around. But he was nowhere to be seen. Should she take the cover off the boat and get her ready for pushing off or would he prefer to do that himself? There were two half-deckers, Winglet I and 2. Twin craft. Julia chose the one in the best position for getting out and began to unhook the awning. He couldn’t possibly object to her doing that. And after that, surely there would be no harm in going to knock on his door.

  She took her time in removing the boat cover and folded it up neatly, then went round to the house. She raised her hand to knock, then halted. She could hear voices within. She listened for a moment, then unmistakably came a woman’s voice. Celia’s.

  Slowly, Julia turned away. She might have known! There would be no sailing with Roger today. She went back to the boat, picturing Celia looking over the rooms, discussing colour schemes. How different would Celia’s choice be from her own? It was ridiculous of Roger to ask her opinion last night. It was too late even to change that of the living/dining room.

  Julia unfastened the ties of the sail thinking to herself that as soon as the man arrived who was on Sunday duty she would cast off. Though it was sunny, it was unlikely that they would have any customers for day boat hire. The cool wind would put most people off.

  She was hoisting sail when Roger and Celia appeared. Celia looked distinctly uncomfortable, screwing up her face against the wind and holding a protective hand on her hair. Roger walked up to Julia and eyed the sail.

  ‘I see you’re ready for the off,’ he said.

  ‘Yes. It would be a pity to waste the day,’ she answered without looking at him.

  ‘I have to run Celia back to town—’

  ‘That’s all right. We made the proviso last night, remember?’

  Celia had wandered across to an eight-berth cruiser, one of their luxury craft. She called out to Roger. Julia saw him hesitate, and pride came to her aid.

  ‘Don’t feel under any obligation to me,’ she told him. ‘I can handle this boat perfectly well on my own, and in one minute from now I shall be pushing off.’

  ‘Roger, do come and show me how to get inside this lovely-looking boat—!’ came Celia’s voice.

  Julia winced at the phrase as Roger strode over to the large cruiser. The next minute she had cast off, navigating carefully past the other moored craft. She felt more ragged and disappointed than she ought to be or had any right to be, and how she longed once again for David. She turned into the open river with the wind right behind her. She would have to tack most of the way back, but she didn’t care.

  Before very long, however, owing to the keen air and physical exercise, hunger overtook her. This was a quiet part of the river and she knew there was nowhere for miles where one could get a meal—and she had come out without money in any case. There was nothing for it but to turn the yacht into the wind and begin the zig-zag course from one side to the other to fill out the sail, though she would have liked to stay out for much longer.

  Fortunately, the wind stayed brisk and veered a little so that at times she was able to take longish tacks and gain a boat or so’s length on the turn. All the same, she was so hungry by the time she reached the boatyard, she called out to Charlie, the workman, to moor her and ease off the sail. Tea and sandwiches were the quickest thing, she decided, and was chewing away standing up when a knock came at the door. Thinking it would be Charlie, she went to answer it, a sandwich in her hand. It was Roger. She swallowed hastily and gestured to come in.

  ‘Is this your Sunday lunch?’ he enquired, as he eyed the bread and butter and cold meat on the table.

  She nodded. ‘I was so hungry I couldn’t wait to prepare anything else.’

  ‘Sorry this morning misfired,’ he said. ‘I had planned to sail up to Sutton and take you to lunch there.’

  ‘I’m sorry, too.’ Perhaps if she had waited for a little while instead of being in such a hurry—‘What happened to Celia?’ she asked.

  ‘She had to go back to London. I gave her lunch first, then saw her on to the train.’

  ‘When did she come down?’ Julia couldn’t resist the question.

  ‘Late last night, I gather.’

  Late last night. Why bother to lie? Was Roger really as jealous as all that? Celia couldn’t even have mentioned Max.

  ‘You know, you shouldn’t be having a snack lunch I like this,’ Roger told her. ‘You need proper meals.’

  She assured him she would have a sort of high tea later, wondering whether he was genuinely concerned or extending his role as managing director. As he made no effort to leave, she asked him if he’d like a cup of tea with her, but he shook his head.

  ‘Seeing that you had come back, I came to ask if it was too late for our sail. Perhaps you’d rather not go out again. The wind is rath
er cold.’

  She laughed, feeling light-hearted again. ‘It’s nothing to a hardened yachtsman like me. I’d love another run. I came back because I was hungry.’

  He left her to finish her sandwiches in peace, and a quarter of an hour later they pushed off. Julia guessed that really he was anxious to test her sailing prowess.

  For her part, she was certainly curious about this, and later was secretly surprised at his skill both when running before the wind and tacking. He had some words of praise for her skill, too.

  ‘You can certainly handle a boat,’ he said. ‘Do you do dinghy sailing—racing and all that?’

  But she shook her head. ‘I like this kind best. Oddly enough I’m not in love with just sailing on one of the Broads, I prefer this kind—getting from A to B, as it were.’

  He nodded in agreement. ‘There’s more to sailing these rivers than many people imagine. There are so many twists and turns. You need a different set of the sail around every bend. I find it a challenge.’

  Julia smiled. ‘Pitting your wits against the elements is always a challenge.’ She wondered if Celia cared for sailing, or had even set foot inside a boat.

  ‘By the way, what did Celia think of Wing of the Morning?’ she asked when a stretch of river made running free possible.

  He glanced up at the burgee fluttering in the wind.

  ‘She thought it very smart, of course. And I’m afraid something like that is more in her line than a yacht. She wants to come down for a holiday, but we’re fully booked from about next week-end onward, aren’t we?’

  Julia received this news with anything but delight, somehow. ‘Just about. I’d have to look at the books.