A Will to Love

by Rosina Lesley

  How long she sat there she didn’t know, but at last it penetrated her paralysed brain that somehow, she was going to have to go back. Turning the car would be impossible, so she was going to have to reverse all the way to the drive of Tallon House, where she could turn, hopefully, and try going in the other direction to the village.

  By the time she had made it to the gateposts, she was damp with exertion and anger had overlaid any other emotions that had been trying to surface. With a lot of slithering and sliding across the icy surface, she managed to turn the car in the opposite direction and drove off towards Fearnside. The road this way was clearer, and Annie remembered that Nat Brown’s tractor would have come from this direction, but when she reached the village, it appeared almost deserted and still snowbound.

  However, there were lights showing in The Bull and Buckle and after a short wait, W Trent opened the door.

  ‘Hello, again. Manage to find Tallon House, did you?’ He smiled cheerfully.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ Annie was shivering. ‘But I’ve left now, and I can’t get out of the village the way I came in. Do you know if the road’s blocked in the other direction?’

  ‘Yes, love, I’m afraid so. Always get snowed in, every winter. Not usually as early as this, though,’ he mused, nodding thoughtfully out at the village green.

  ‘Well, in that case, could I have that room for tonight, at least? And have you got a public telephone?’

  ‘Yes, love, you come in.’ W Trent stood aside, watching her curiously as she went into the bar and made for the log fire that was already lit in the wide fireplace. ‘Phone’s over there, look, just beside the bar. I’ll go and get the wife to make sure the room’s ready.’

  Annie warmed her hands at the friendly blaze and waited until she heard a door bang somewhere else in the building. Then she fished in her shoulder bag for her purse and opened it with difficulty, extracting all the coins she had and went across to the telephone.

  ‘Vicki? Hi, it’s me. No, I’m not there now, I’m at a pub. I was trying to get home, but the roads are all blocked and I can’t get any further. Are you all right? Can you cope?’

  She listened to Vicki’s report on how well the shop had been doing for the last three days, and how much she was enjoying being out all day and away from the children and put in another coin.

  ‘Good, OK then, Vicki, if you’re sure you can cope. If it gets difficult, just close, it can’t be helped. I’ll try and let you know when I can get home, but obviously it won’t be today. If my mother calls – fob her off, don’t tell her where I am, she’ll only worry. Say I’ll call her back. Yes, I’m fine. No, it’s all sorted out. Tell you when I see you. ‘Bye – yes, all right, bye.’

  Annie let out a sigh of relief and went back to the fire, waiting for the landlord to return. She had done all she could, now she just had to wait and contain her soul in patience.

  ‘There. Room’s all ready. Made your phone call?’ W Trent came back into the room. ‘Got a bag in the car? Give me the keys and I’ll go and get it in. Might as well leave the car where it is, there won’t be any other traffic.’

  Gratefully, Annie handed over the keys and in a few minutes, he was back with her canvas bag and gave the keys back.

  ‘Come on, I’ll take you up, then you can come down and have a drink to warm you up before the regulars get in. They’ll all be here today, with the snow. Can’t get to work, you see. Treat it like a holiday, they do.’

  The room was small, with a sloping ceiling and matching sprigged wallpaper and curtains, and best of all, its own tiny shower cubicle fitted into a cupboard.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ Annie said, surprised and delighted.

  Gratified, W Trent nodded and smiled. ‘Best room,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you very much,’ said Annie seriously. ‘And thank your wife. I’ll be down in a little while for that drink.’

  Left alone, Annie stripped off her clothes and had a quick, hot shower, before rummaging through the canvas bag for clean underwear, thankful that she had packed plenty, even though she was still alternating her skirt and jeans. Her head still felt tender, but the dressing was still attached – mostly to her hair – so she rearranged her plait to cover it and stood back to view the result in the long mirror beside the shower.

  This was a mistake, she decided, for it showed a haunted face, dark smudges under the eyes and bloodless lips, downright crumpled sweater and lacklustre hair. As she stood gazing miserably at this apparition, all the anguish and desolation of the morning rushed in on her and she sank down on to the bed covering her face with her hands, as the hot salt tears began to flow.

  Crying didn’t make you feel any better, despite what people said, she reflected some 20 minutes later, as she sat up and scrubbed at her face with a towel. It just left you looking even worse and with a blinding headache. She got up and went to the little washbasin to splash cold water on her flushed face and, with a trembling sigh, began to repair the damage.

  When she reappeared in the bar, there were several other customers already there and she paused in the doorway, feeling embarrassed and exposed.

  ‘Hello, there.’ W Trent greeted her, wandering along behind the bar polishing a glass. ‘Thought you’d decided not to bother. What can I get you?’

  ‘Er – lager, please. Half.’ Annie stood awkwardly at the end of the bar until she’d been served and paid for her drink, then slid behind a small table in the corner and tried to look invisible.

  ‘Hello, my dear. You the young lady who’s taken the room?’

  Annie looked up to see a comfortable middle aged woman in a large thick sweater standing next to her holding a menu.

  ‘Yes, I am. Annalise King.’ Annie held out her hand and the woman shook it, then handing her the menu.

  ‘I’m Clare Trent, that’s my Bill behind the bar. I wondered if you’d like a bite of lunch? Just snacks at lunchtime, but I do a full dinner menu.’

  ‘Oh, thank you.’ Annie looked down the list of sandwiches and jacket potatoes trying to summon up some enthusiasm. ‘I’ll have a ploughman’s please.’

  ‘Stilton, cheddar or brie?’ asked Clare.

  ‘Oh …’ Annie was surprised at the choice. ‘Brie, please.’

  Clare was back with her food within minutes, and Annie turned her attention to it thankfully, feeling a little more relaxed now she had something to do.

  After lunch, she went in search of Clare Trent to ask if there was anywhere she could get a newspaper, but due to the snow, no papers had been delivered for the last two days, so Clare offered her the contents of a well stacked bookcase.

  ‘You need something to do out in the back of beyond,’ she laughed ruefully. ‘I read so many books Bill says he wonders I can remember how to talk out loud.’

  Annie chose a recent bestseller and retired to her room where she spent the next few hours trying to read it, until she could legitimately go downstairs and ask for the tea Clare had promised her. But the words lay inert on the page, unable to make the leap into her mind, like so much Sanskrit. Round and round went the events of the past 48 hours and the gradual and unwelcome realisation that her own attitude was quite as inexplicable as those of Murray and his mother. Marion, it seemed, resented Annie’s very existence, not simply that she had been left Tallon House, so that even her offer to give it up was not enough. Murray patently didn’t trust her, yet appeared to be as physically attracted to her as she was to him. Except that in her case, it was more than just physical attraction, she reflected gloomily, much, much more. And this brought her back to the consideration of her own attitude. How could she, a normal, well adjusted young woman with her own home and business, have allowed her brain to turn into mush and leave her such a spineless milksop? It made no sense whatsoever, she decided. In fact, if she had read it in a book, she would have scoffed at such an unlikely scenario.

  It was dark by the time she made her way downstairs and tapped on the door marked private to ask for some tea, and when Clare p
ointed out the small bar on the other side of the front door, went to wait for it curled up in the window seat. When the door opened, she looked up with a fixed smile, which faded immediately Murray walked into the room.

  ‘I thought I’d find you here.’ He stood looking down at her, a forbidding expression on his face.

  ‘Well, you did.’ Annie didn’t really know how to reply, she was having enough trouble with the surge of adrenalin his appearance had produced. ‘But I don’t know why you bothered.’

  ‘Neither do I.’ He strode over to the small Victorian fireplace and gazed down into the flames. ‘No, that’s not true. I do know.’ He turned to face her, looking determined.

  ‘After you left, my mother became hysterical.’

  Annie raised her eyebrows in disbelief, trying to quieten the galloping beat of her heart.

  ‘Not at the thought of losing you – although somehow, that did come into it.’ Murray frowned, obviously puzzled. ‘Anyway, I managed to get hold of Dr Graham, and while we waited for him I learnt quite a lot that I hadn’t known before.’ He gazed at a spot somewhere over the top of her head. ‘It seems I owe you another apology.’

  Blood was singing in Annie’s ears and she strove to sound calm.

  ‘What for this time?’ she croaked.

  ‘My mother told me you had been in touch with Henry for some time before his death.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yes, it astounded me, too. She told me this just after she got the news about Henry’s will. She said she had proof, letters, paintings, all sorts of things. She also said that you weren’t Henry’s daughter at all, that Christine had admitted she lied. Annie, are you all right?’ He moved quickly to crouch in front of her, taking her icy hands in his. She nodded with difficulty.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, now you know why I was so angry with you. I thought, quite genuinely, that you really had done my mother out of her inheritance, and worse, that Christine had broken up their marriage deliberately.’ He let go of her hands and stood up. ‘My mother can be very convincing when she tries.’

  ‘Didn’t you ask to see her proof?’

  ‘I trusted her. I’d seen some of your paintings. That seemed to confirm what she’d said.’

  Clever Marion, thought Annie.

  ‘I can only say I’m sorry, on her behalf and mine.’ He was watching her face carefully.

  ‘I brought two cups as you had a visitor.’ Clare Trent followed her perfunctory knock into the room and set a tea tray on the table in front of Annie, leaving immediately with a bright smile at both of them.

  ‘Tea?’ Annie picked up the pot in a shaking hand.

  ‘Thank you.’ Murray came over and pulled a chair up to the table.

  ‘You haven’t told me how you found out that …’ Annie wrinkled her forehead, ‘well, that I was telling the truth.’

  ‘She more or less admitted it.’ Murray took his cup and stirred thoughtfully. ‘She was completely thrown by the fact that you’d gone, and kept saying it wasn’t her fault. She seemed to think I would approve of everything she’d done.’

  Annie was silent, staring at her tea.

  ‘Annie?’

  She looked up. ‘You said you’d seen some of my paintings. Where are they?’

  ‘I don’t know. They used to hang in the study and the small drawing room. I haven’t seen them since I came back up here.’

  ‘He said he’d bought some of my paintings in his letter.’

  ‘I’ll look for them when I go back later. Marion’s asleep at the moment, so I can’t ask her. She had a sedative and Tracy managed to get in at lunch time. She’s staying over tonight.’

  ‘Do you think she destroyed my paintings?’

  Murray looked shocked, then resigned. ‘I hope not. It’s possible, I suppose.’

  A small silence fell while they both allowed their tea to grow cold, unnoticed.

  ‘Did she say why she did all this?’ Annie broke the silence.

  ‘No. She seemed to think I would know. I assume it was jealousy, of your mother in the first place and you for the legacy.’

  ‘Then why was she so … so … upset when you told her I’d gone?’

  Murray shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea.’

  Annie contemplated her inner picture of the window swinging out to hit her and a cold finger of fear crept up her spine. Marion had wanted her out of the way, that was clear, so why ..?

  ‘Have you been listening to the weather forecasts?’ Murray cut across her thoughts.

  ‘No. There’s no radio in my room.’

  ‘Apparently the thaw is continuing and the temperature isn’t going to fall to freezing tonight. So, if we’re spared any flooding, you should be able to go tomorrow.’

  ‘Why were you trying to stop me from going before?’

  ‘Because I was trying to find out the truth. Half the time I believed you, but I couldn’t be sure. My mother had been very plausible.’

  ‘You believe her, now? That she made it all up?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I believe her. And I believe you. I can see, too, why you want to get rid of Tallon House. Under the circumstances, I think I would, but I really don’t think you ought to. Marion shouldn’t have it.’

  ‘If she doesn’t, will she have to stay with you?’

  ‘I suppose so. I had hoped to sell Fallowfield and move down south, but I can’t take her with me.’ He stood up, jingling coins in his pockets. Annie thought he wasn’t used to facing a situation he couldn’t handle and her heart went out to him.

  ‘Why can’t you? I thought she preferred being near London.’

  ‘She used to. Since the accident ... well, I don’t know.’

  ‘Then why not let her have Tallon House? You could employ someone to look after her. She has enough money to pay for that herself, hasn’t she? I understand my father left her that much, at least.’

  ‘She doesn’t deserve it!’ Murray rounded on her, looking so fierce that she recoiled and his expression changed immediately. ‘Annie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …’ he broke off in confusion.

  ‘Frighten me?’ Annie smiled grimly. ‘I know.’

  He stood looking down at her, his dark, winged brows drawn down over steely blue eyes. ‘I do frighten you, though, don’t I?’

  ‘No.’ Annie knew this was true. It wasn’t Murray who frightened her.

  ‘Then why are you always running from me? Why won’t you let me get close?’

  She gave a bitter laugh. ‘You can ask why? After all you’ve told me this afternoon? You didn’t believe me, you thought my mother and I were conniving gold diggers – and it showed. Why should I let you get close to me? All it meant to me was that you were trying to soften me up – to manipulate me. No – don’t touch me!’ She stood up, knocking the table and spilling the tea.

  Murray pushed a hand through his hair in the gesture that was becoming so familiar to her.

  ‘I don’t know what to say. How can you think I’d behave like that? I told you this morning ...’

  ‘You told me this morning that you wouldn’t use mutual attraction to get your own way. But that was before your mother had confessed. You still thought I was a liar and a cheat at that point, didn’t you? If you were so attracted to me, why didn’t you give me the benefit of the doubt? Why didn’t you ask me straight out instead of waiting for me to trip myself up?’

  He was watching her, his astounded expression gradually becoming shuttered.

  ‘There’s no point in talking any longer, is there? I’m sorry I came.’ He jammed his hands in his pockets and went towards the door. ‘Except you know now that neither my mother nor I will obstruct your plans – whatever you want to do.’

  ‘Murray.’

  He stopped with his hand on the door handle. ‘Yes.’

  ‘There are two things I’d like to know.’ Annie took a deep breath and sat down, realising her legs were trembling.

  ‘Well?’ He remained where he was, his whole stance reflecting i
mpatience.

  ‘One is why you don’t want to take your mother south with you and the second is why did you refer to your family when you first came to see me? Is there someone else I don’t know about? Have you a brother or sister?’

  Murray’s hand dropped to his side as he pushed the other through his hair once more.

  ‘The answer’s the same to both questions. My father’s still living in Hertfordshire.’

  ‘Your father?’

  ‘Why so surprised?’

  ‘I … I … don’t know,’ Annie stuttered. ‘I suppose I assumed he was dead!’

  ‘Why? Just because I hadn’t mentioned him?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Annie shook her head tiredly. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘What for? I’m the one who’s sorry – remember?’

  ‘I remember.’ Annie was sick of the whole sorry mess of cross purposes and misunderstandings. ‘Look, Murray. Has Tracy cooked for you tonight?’

  ‘If she has, it’s nothing special.’ He looked curious.

  ‘Then why don’t you stay and have dinner with me here.’ She smiled tremulously. ‘Try and patch up our differences. We have to talk about Tallon House, anyway.’

  He had difficulty concealing his surprise.

  ‘Here?’ he asked slowly. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure.’ Annie looked at her watch. ‘It’s nearly six now, so if I go up and freshen up, we can have a drink down here first.’

  ‘All right.’ His expression gave nothing away. ‘I’ll go and let Clare know while you’re upstairs.’

  ‘Fine.’ Annie moved out from behind the table and slid past him to the door, letting out her breath as she turned to smile uncertainly. ‘I won’t be long. You will still be here, won’t you?’

  ‘You’re the one that runs away, Annie.’ His eyes were steady on hers.

  ‘Yes.’ She gulped. ‘Well. I’ll see you in a minute then.’ She whisked out of the door and ran up the stairs to her room, where she sank down on the bed and tried to control her breathing. What had she let herself in for now?