The Man in Possession

by Hilda Pressley

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Max said crossly. ‘But it just seems all wrong somehow that—I mean, the place ought to be yours.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t, so there’s no point in keeping going on about it. I’m perfectly happy as things are, anyway.’

  ‘Are you? I have my doubts,’ he insisted.

  She sighed and to change the subject, she said: ‘Has your grapevine told you that Celia—Miss Palmer is coming on a visit?’ It was one way of finding out whether the two had had contact.

  Max shook his head, but the fact that he showed no surprise gave her grounds for suspicion. He asked where Celia was staying and for how long.

  ‘She’s coming on Saturday, but I’m not sure for how long,’ Julia told him. Then she asked directly: ‘Have you seen her or heard from her since the time I saw you in Norwich?’

  ‘Er—yes, I have as a matter of fact,’ he said casually. ‘She rang me up.’

  ‘But why? Why should she ring you?’

  ‘Why not?’ countered Max.

  ‘She’s supposed to be engaged to Roger.’

  ‘She’s not engaged to him. At least, not at the moment. And even if she were—’

  She’s not engaged to him. If only it were completely true, Julia thought. But there was the indisputable evidence of the doodle, the photograph and numerous other things which told her that Roger was in love with Celia. Added to that, surely no woman would so blatantly pursue a man if she were not reasonably sure she was wanted. At any rate, no woman of Celia’s class and undoubted attractiveness.

  Roger came out of the house and started towards them, then halted and looked hard at Max before turning and going back again.

  Julia half rose to her feet. ‘I think he was looking for me. I’d better go and see what he wanted.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Max. ‘If he’d wanted you for anything he’d have come to you. Anyhow, you’re off duty now, aren’t you? Or don’t you ever get any time off?’

  ‘It isn’t like that. I’m not paid by the hour,’ she reminded him.

  But the next moment she heard Roger’s car start up and the roar of his engine as he drove off somewhere. ; She sank into her chair again rather uneasily. She felt sure he had wanted to speak to her but had changed his mind on seeing Max. Neither man liked the other and Julia could not really see that they had sufficient reason.

  Celia was due to arrive in Norwich at twelve-thirty on the Saturday morning. Roger, naturally, went to meet her himself.

  ‘I’ll take her somewhere in town for lunch,’ he told Julia, ‘keep her out of your way for a little while. Then maybe you’d both have tea with me at the house. The worst will be over by four-thirty, I imagine,’ he added, referring to the coming and going of the boat hirers.

  She nodded. ‘The boats will all be ready by then, anyhow, even if there are a few late arrivals, and Bob likes to stay around until they’ve all taken over.’

  They stood in the doorway of the office for a few minutes and surveyed the busy scene. Bob Winters was guiding what must surely be the last of the large cruisers into a mooring space, the quayside was dotted with cars, holiday-makers—most of them wearing slacks and sweaters—going to and fro with their luggage, cleaning women with either buckets or clean linen, and, as it was a fine, sunny morning, some early arrivals sitting on the grass waiting to take over their boat without waste of a single minute.

  ‘Nobody would think that they weren’t supposed to take the boats over until four o’clock,’ said Roger.

  Julia smiled. ‘It’s astonishing how quickly they catch on. But it relieves the congestion if some of them do get away before four.’

  Roger screwed up his face against the sun and watched Tony Sheldrake step ashore from a six-berth cruiser.

  ‘The new men all working satisfactorily, would you say?’ he asked.

  Julia hesitated. She had never spoken to Roger about the engineer, and during the last week or so there had been no troubles with the engines of the craft once the hirers had taken them out.

  ‘Yes, I think we can safely say that,’ she answered.

  ‘Good.’

  Another car drew up and a family of holiday-makers spilled out. Julia greeted them smilingly and went into the office to attend to them. She was very glad that Roger was taking Celia to lunch in the town. A sandwich lunch was all she would have time for herself, but she would have wanted to offer Celia something a little better than that, busy as she was. All the same, it was with a twinge of envy that she heard Roger drive off to Thorpe station. Lucky, lucky Celia!

  It was four o’clock before Roger returned with their visitor, and she arrived looking radiant—like a woman in love, Julia thought with a pang.

  ‘Did you have a good journey?’ she asked Celia.

  ‘Any journey would be good which brings me to Roger’s side,’ came the rather naive reply.

  Roger gave an amused—or was it an indulgent—smile.

  ‘Have you nearly finished for the day, Julia?’

  She nodded. ‘There’s only one more party to come, and Bob Winters will look after them.’

  ‘Right, then we’ll have tea. Mrs. Harris has left it all prepared. I’ll carry your bags round later, Celia.’

  Julia asked to be excused while she tidied herself after her busy day, not only in the office but also lending a hand at the quaysides, handing out life-jackets, extra pillows, answering queries, and when everyone else was busy, helping to bring craft in to moor and giving them a push out. It was work she loved and she was in love with Roger, yet her heart was heavy. The wonderful sense of peace and happiness she had experienced when first she had acknowledged her love for Roger had been short-lived. Useless now to wish she had not invited Celia. In any case, she would merely have been putting off ‘the evil day ‘, she told herself. The day when Celia would be here permanently. Julia wondered again what they had quarrelled about. Was it because Roger had given up his secure job for his venture into the boat-hire business? It seemed very likely indeed. Roger was the sort of man who would do his best to make a woman happy, but she was certain he was too much of a man to allow a woman to dictate to him.

  She washed her hands and face and changed her dress, then rather reluctantly went over to the house. The interior decorators—though having departed for the ‘week-end—had finished their work on the lounge/dining room and had started on the bedrooms.

  ‘It will be absolutely lovely when it’s all finished, darling,’ Celia was saying, as Julia entered. ‘But what about the kitchen? That is simply frightful.’

  Roger laughed. ‘It’s not too hot, I admit, but I thought we’d leave that until last. Mrs. Harris is perfectly happy with it and anything too complicated might be too much for her. Later, of course—’ He rose to his feet out of courtesy to Julia and offered her a chair.

  ‘Shall I go and make the tea?’ she asked, only too anxious to get away and wishing she had not come.

  ‘Well, I don’t really see—’ Roger began, but Julia moved swiftly towards the door.

  ‘I don’t mind in the least,’ she said. ‘You stay and talk to Celia. I’ll see to it.’

  She glanced around the kitchen. It was not very modern or labour-saving, but it contained all the essentials. Somehow, Julia could not imagine Celia being very domesticated at all, but of course, one could never tell. For her own part, she would not care for a kitchen to look too computerized with a confusion of dials and switches. A decent cooker, a washer and spin dryer, good cupboards—

  She pulled herself up sharply. She must stop dreaming, seeing herself even in the vaguest of terms as Roger’s wife, mistress of his house.

  The kettle was already full. Julia switched it on and took the covers from the plates of food Mrs. Harris had left prepared and carried them in. Roger and Celia had their heads together over something and did not even notice her entrance.

  This, Julia told herself fiercely, was something she would just have to learn to live with. Or get away from. But she couldn’t. Not now.
She simply could not let Roger down with a busy holiday season before them.

  She made the tea and took that in. Now Celia was telling Roger what kind of kitchen she would like.

  ‘Of course I’m not very domesticated in a general sense, as you know, but I do like to cook now and then.’

  Roger laughed. ‘Does that mean your husband would only eat now and then? For my part, I find I have to eat every day, otherwise I grow kind of weak, if you know what I mean.’

  This made even Julia smile, though she was not enjoying what she could only describe as Roger’s ‘love teasing ‘.

  Celia laughed heartily, ‘Oh, Roger, you are an idiot! You know perfectly well what I mean.’

  Julia put her hand on the handle of the teapot to pour out, but suddenly Celia’s hand shot out to stay her.

  ‘I’ll pour out, Julia, thank you.’ Then she added sweetly: ‘You’ve had such a busy day. You must be quite exhausted, and I do want to pull my weight.’ Julia let go the teapot and sat back, feeling put in her place very decidedly. Obviously Celia wanted her to know who was to be mistress of this house. As she poured the tea she became patronizing.

  ‘Roger tells me what a treasure you are in the office and boatyard,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t know about “treasure”,’ Julia answered. ‘I just like the work, that’s all.’

  Celia smiled. ‘Such an unusual job for a woman—messing about with boats and things.’

  ‘I don’t agree at all,’ Julia came back. ‘As long as one likes the feminine things as well, I can see no reason why a woman can’t enjoy those pleasures so often thought of as the masculine prerogative.’

  ‘But, darling, I was talking about work, not pleasure. I’m hoping Roger will teach me to sail while I’m here. It’s something I’m looking forward to enormously.’

  Julia saw Roger’s eyebrows raise slightly. ‘Since when have you been interested in sailing, Celia?’

  She gave him a provocative smile. ‘Ever since you came to Norfolk, of course.’

  Roger did not answer. He picked up a plate of sandwiches and offered it to Julia.

  ‘Eat,’ he said. ‘You must be starving.’

  Celia reverted to the topic of Julia and her efficiency. ‘I’m so glad Roger has got someone like you to keep an eye on things. It means he’ll be free to take me around—when we’re not sailing, I mean. I suppose there are other things in Norfolk besides the rivers and Broads.’

  ‘There are,’ Roger told her. ‘And it’s a pity you didn’t bring your own car. I’m afraid I shall be busy some of the time.’

  ‘But of course you will, darling.’

  As soon as she reasonably could Julia made her escape, pleading that she was tired. She did not even offer to do the washing up. She decided it would not hurt Celia to do that.

  ‘Come just whenever it suits you to get settled in,’ she told the other girl, giving her as warm a smile as she possibly could.

  It was not going to be easy during Celia’s stay, Julia knew that. Quite apart from the pain of seeing the man she loved with another woman, she sensed that Celia did not like her and resented her having daily contact with Roger. Perhaps, in the way women did know these things, Celia knew instinctively that Julia was in love with him.

  About an hour later Roger brought Celia’s luggage to the houseboat. Julia viewed with dismay the two large suitcases. She had cleared the wardrobe of everything except her pony-skin coat, and had emptied two large drawers under one of the beds, but even so there would not be room for all the clothes Celia had evidently brought.

  ‘Good gracious, I had no idea there would be such a shortage of hanging space,’ Celia exclaimed. ‘Perhaps if you could get rid of this coat—’

  She took Julia’s coat unceremoniously off its hook and thrust it at her.

  Julia looked at the coat and frowned worriedly. ‘I suppose I could hang it in the office for the time being.’

  Celia shrugged and flung back the lid of one of her cases. ‘My dear girl, I don’t care what you do with it.’ Julia bit back a sharp retort. This woman was, after all, Roger’s guest as well as hers.

  ‘There are plenty of drawers,’ she said, indicating the two spacious ones which were a standard fitment, forming the under part of each sleeping berth.

  Celia glanced down at them—those under both berths.

  ‘The four of them? They’ll do, I suppose, though normally I don’t like putting my clothes in drawers.’

  Julia suppressed a sigh. ‘The two under the right-hand berth are yours. My own clothes are in the other two.’

  ‘Oh. Oh dear! This really is too bad. What a woman in love will suffer for the sake of her man! There’s only one thing for it, I shall have to put some of my things in one of the rooms in the house.’

  ‘Don’t forget the workmen will be about the place come Monday,’ Julia warned her. ‘Surely, what there isn’t room for in the wardrobe and drawers—and I think you’ll find the drawers will hold more than you think—you can leave in one of your cases and the cases can be kept on the berth not in use.’

  ‘Leave my clothes in a suitcase?’ Celia echoed. ‘I couldn’t possibly do such a thing!’

  Julia couldn’t see why not and was beginning to wonder whether the other girl was being difficult deliberately.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, but I’ve offered you the best I can. I’ll leave you to it,’ she declared firmly.

  Fortunately she had put her pony-skin coat in a polythene cover. There was nowhere in the saloon to hang it, so she took it across to the office and hung it there on its coat-hanger. She did not go straight back to the houseboat, she lingered on the quayside and gazed down river where at this time of the evening the water was still and the reflections barely distinguishable from the original. It was so beautiful here. She would never, normally, want to leave it. ‘Home is where your heart is,’ her father had quoted. Her heart was here with Roger, but if he belonged to someone else—

  She was wondering whether to take one of the day launches out—there was no wind for sailing—when a car crunched on to the gravel and she turned to see Max. He waved and came towards her.

  ‘Are you all through?’ he asked.

  She nodded. ‘There’s only one more, and Bob is seeing to that. All your people out?’

  He grinned, ‘I’ve finished, anyway. I was wondering if you’d care to run into town and we could have a drink and supper somewhere.’

  Julia agreed, glad of an opportunity to get away for a little while. When Celia had finished unpacking she would undoubtedly pass the rest of the evening with Roger. She came to the door of the houseboat as Julia and Max were passing to the car. They greeted each other with a casual ‘hello’, and Julia could not help feeling that they knew each other far better than they wanted anyone to know.

  ‘Finished your unpacking?’ Julia asked her.

  Celia shrugged. ‘Well, I’ve found room in the cupboard that passes for a wardrobe for the essential things, but it’s fearfully cramped. Are you going out?’ Julia said she was. ‘Oh, well, don’t wait up for me. Roger and I are going out presently and we shall probably be late.’

  Julia would have liked to point out that as Celia would have to pass through her room to get to her own, there would be little use in going to bed, or at any rate trying to sleep. But what was the use? she thought. They had not made a very good start at all, and at this rate Celia’s stay was going to be a very great trial indeed. She went into the houseboat to get a jacket which she had folded very carefully and placed uppermost in one of the drawers. Both bunks were scattered with Celia’s clothes. She had brought enough luggage to last the whole summer. Surely for a holiday in the country a couple of drip-dry frocks, a cocktail dress and some slacks and sweaters would have been sufficient. There would have been plenty of room even for twice that amount, plus the usual warm coat, raincoat and spare shoes. But Celia appeared to have brought her entire wardrobe. Perhaps it had been a mistake to offer her accommodation. She would have
been far better in a hotel.

  When Julia went outside again, Celia and Max were talking together in low voices, and again came the feeling that there was something more between them than casual acquaintanceship.

  During the course of the evening Max asked her how Tony Sheldrake, the maintenance engineer, was doing.

  ‘Had any more troubles with the engines?’ he queried.

  Julia was glad to be able to answer that they hadn’t.

  ‘You haven’t thought any more about swapping the two engineers over, then?’ he pursued.

  She hadn’t thought another word about it. She certainly had not mentioned it to Roger, and she was beginning to wonder why Max should be so interested.

  ‘Roger wanted our three old hands to work on the new craft,’ she told him, and to her relief he changed the subject.

  When they said goodnight he suggested that they should go for a sail the following day.

  How about it? But it will have to be one of yours. Father won’t give houseroom to yachts.’

  ‘Not even one for your own use?’

  ‘Not even for my own use,’ he affirmed with resigned bitterness.

  There was an interval of silence—an embarrassed one for Julia. She could not understand this poor relationship Max evidently had with his father and she sometimes wished he were not quite so outspoken about it.

  ‘Well, there’s no problem,’ she said after a moment or two. ‘We can take out one of our half-deckers.’

  ‘Good. And if it rains we can take a run out to Cambridge or somewhere.’

  It did not rain, and Roger and Celia had the same idea—to go for a sail. As the boats were got ready, Julia could hear Celia talking incessantly, making a great show of wanting to know what everything was used for. Julia let go their moorings for them and watched them go with a pang, wishing it were she herself in the boat with Roger.