To Catch A Unicorn

by Sara Seale

  Cleo's day, however, did not turn out quite as she had planned, though later she flattered herself that she had not entirely wasted her opportunities. She waved the other two off with fond wishes for their mutual enjoyment, but Dominic stood watching the car shave the gates with Peregrine's usual careless flourish, a frown between his eyes.

  "Whose idea was this?" he asked. "Perry was supposed to be giving me a hand with some fencing that came down in one of the gales."

  "I don't know—maybe Laura's—she doesn't get out much. Let's have a drink, Dom," Cleo said, and didn't think it necessary to explain about the Easter shopping.

  "It's too early for me, but I'll mix you one if you like," he replied without enthusiasm, and she slipped a hand through his arm, coaxing him back into the house.

  "Don't be a spoilsport, Dom," she said. "Why shouldn't

  Laura have her bit of fun? I've been rather selfish, monopolising all the outings, besides—I'm afraid she's lost her heart a bit to Perry." He frowned again.

  "To Perry? I rather gathered the impression that his crude advances didn't cut much ice."

  "Oh, that's just Laura's little way. Most girls put up a smoke-screen if their emotions are getting involved. Laura's impressionable and not very experienced, and Perry's damned attractive."

  "Yes, I'd rather thought you found him so," he observed a little dryly, and she give him a slow, knowledgeable smile as she arranged herself elegantly in a chair by one of the open windows of the tea-room.

  "Me? But of course I do—all the Trevaynes are hellishly attractive—but I know my way around. I cut my first teeth on Troy, so Perry's no danger to me now, but Laura has yet to learn. Aren't you going to pour me that drink, darling?"

  "Perry's not a very good subject on which to cut one's teeth," he said, walking over to the drink trolley.

  "Why should you care? Laura's not your responsibility," she said, accepting the drink he had poured for her, and raising her glass to him in a small gesture of salute.

  "Don't you consider she's yours?" he asked, balancing himself on the window-ledge and jingling the loose coins in his trouser pocket. "You seem to be the child's sole surviving relative."

  The small, clinking noise irritated her. "I wish you'd have a drink, Dom. It's so cheerless imbibing alone. Laura? Well, yes, in a way I suppose I do feel responsible, for the poor sweet is a bit dumb in some ways, but there's been a long gap, you know, and she's entitled to live her own life, don't you think? Besides, darling, I'm in no position to make a home for her, if that's what you're thinking—I've no home myself."

  "But you're a nomad, I suspect, Cleo," he said, and got up and went back to the trolley as if on second thoughts he had decided to relax. "You enjoyed your racketing life in

  Australia, didn't you?"

  She shot him a quick look, wondering what the right answer was to that, but his back was turned to her while he measured himself a whisky and she said reflectively:

  "Oh yes, it's a great country for the young. But money was tight, and a child can be a handicap if you have to live rough."

  "Did you ever live rough?" he countered with a hint of scepticism, and she looked surprised.

  "Oh yes, if I had to. Don't you believe I can measure up to your roughneck pattern?" she said, and he smiled as he settled himself opposite her with his drink.

  "Yes, on second thoughts, I think you can, and probably outdo the lot of us," he said. "Would you go back?"

  "To Australia?" She lowered her lashes and observed him through them. He was, perhaps, only talking idly to fill in a too-long period before lunch, but Dominic, she knew, seldom asked questions that required no answers.

  "Perhaps, had things been different," she said. "But Troy's dead, Nicky needs security and—I think I do, too."

  He considered her reflectively, those very blue eyes a rather uncomfortable reminder that there was a streak in him which did not conform to the pattern she knew. By mentioning the boy with such a frank invitation for discussion she had given him an opening to suggest those nebulous plans of which Laura had spoken, but he ignored the opening; or possibly the time was not ripe, and merely enquired when Laura was expected back.

  "For heaven's sake, how should I know?" she snapped back exasperated. "Really, Dom, you're behaving like a maiden aunt who expects the worst from an unchaperoned outing! Laura may be a bit dumb, but she's not halfwitted, even if she does fancy herself in love."

  "Isn't it you who's making rather a to-do?" he said coolly. "I merely asked when they were expected back. I was thinking of that fencing I want to get repaired, you see. Have another drink."

  She gave him her glass, annoyed with her own self-betrayal

  and with his stubborn refusal to react.

  "I can quite understand why Laura finds you difficult," she said waspishly.

  "Does she?"

  "Of course. You make her nervous."

  "I know I do. It's an unfortunate effect I have on strangers, I'm afraid."

  "But not on me, darling," she said, sure of her ground again, as he gave her back her replenished glass. "I can stand up to any of you."

  "Oddly enough, so can your cousin," he replied with a reminiscent twinkle, and Cleo got the impression that she had mysteriously lost ground.

  "Oh, Laura was always one for answering back, even if she was scared stiff," she said. "If she's more reserved with you, it's only natural, isn't it? Perry's so much nearer her own age and he has the advantage of being pin-up boy at the moment."

  She had the satisfaction of seeing that shaft go home. She should have remembered earlier that a man coming rather late in life to the imagined attractions of youth was always sensitive about his age.

  Laura and Peregrine got back just as it was growing dusk. Peregrine was making such a racket on the horn that Cleo went out on to the porch, meeting Dominic in his shirtsleeves returning from his solitary wrestling with the broken fencing, and they stood together, watching the car turn into the drive with the familiar squeal of tyres. Laura was perched in the back on the folded hood, her hair streaming in the wind, her skirt above her knees; Peregrine wore a funny hat. Both were singing, and Laura gave a shriek as the car came to a violent halt and only just saved herself from falling off backwards.

  "For heaven's sake!" exclaimed Cleo. "Has Perry got the poor girl tiddly?"

  Dominic waited in an ominous silence for his brother to get out, but Peregrine began collecting a vast number of parcels together and shouted cheerfully to Dominic to come and help.

  Laura continued to sit on the hood, loth, it would seem, to abandon her commanding perch. Her arms were clasped round her knees now, and she smiled beatifically down upon the men and let them do the work.

  "No stops on the way home?" Dominic asked with a thoughtful eye on Laura.

  "Nary a one, but your ewe lamb's drunk all right—drunk with sheer delight. It's an amazing phenomenon."

  "Did you know, Dominic, the fun of those stalls on the waterfront? The winkles and the jellied eels and the funny hats and monkeys on sticks? Look, I've brought one for Nicky, but I think I shall keep it myself," Laura said, diving down to the back seat to retrieve the toy and show him how it worked. Her eyes were brilliant, and her hair in wild disorder, and she had kicked her shoes off into the bottom of the car. She was indeed drunk, thought Dominic, drunk with a bubbling inner happiness that was quite new to him, and he experienced an odd little prick of anger when Peregrine picked her up and swung her over the side with a good-natured injunction to wake up, and she stood for a moment to let her hands linger on his shoulders.

  "Thank you, Perry," she said softly. "Thank you for a wonderful day."

  Some of the day's magic still remained with Laura as she sat down with the others for the evening meal, and she scarcely noticed that the eager recounting of all they had done was rather coolly received by Dominic. He shut himself up in the book-room as soon as the meal was finished, and Laura, aware that Cleo at any rate was finding the presence of a third person d
istinctly irksome, took herself off to an early bed.

  Because Dominic had made her free of the book-room, she paused there to say goodnight and to tell him she had bought Easter presents on his behalf to give to Nicky the next day.

  "Because," she said, standing in the doorway, not as yet unsure of her unwelcome, "I didn't think you'd remember, as it must be a long time since you looked forward to chocolate eggs and hares and chickens and things."

  "You don't need to remind me that I'm too old to remember my childhood," he replied with such unexpected sharpness that she looked bewildered.

  "I'm sorry," she said, uncertain whether to retire hastily or try to explain. "I—I wasn't suggesting you were too old; I only thought you might have forgotten, not being used to children."

  "Quite right," he said, getting to his feet. "If I'd known the main object of the expedition, I'd have come with you. Come in, Laura, if you want to."

  The invitation sounded formal rather than cordial, but she came in, leaving the door open as an indication that she did not mean to stay.

  "Didn't Cleo tell you?" she said. "Perry originally suggested we all should go and make a sort of party of it, but she didn't want to. Shall I tell you what I've bought for you, Dominic?"

  "If you like. But why not lump all the offerings together, and let the boy sort them out for himself? He'll hardly care who's given him what."

  "Oh! Well, if you'd rather ... I just thought it would be nice if you gave him your presents personally. I chose specially nice ones for you."

  "Bribery? I hardly think a few eggs and a couple of plastic chickens or so will win me to the good graces of my nephew," he said with such cool irony that she flushed.

  "They aren't plastic! The chicken is soft and fluffy and has lovely velvet feet and the other's a baby rabbit with real fur —and I think you're hateful!" he said, and his face suddenly softened to the familiar amused tenderness that she had come to associate with him.

  "Now I've hurt your feelings—or is it your commercial instinct that's outraged, my literal-minded Laura?" he said. "I didn't mean to sound ungrateful—or to spoil your day."

  But he had spoilt it. She was aware now that something had upset him since the morning, and remembering that he and Cleo had been alone together for the best part of the day, she thought she knew what it was. He had most likely broached whatever plans he had in mind for Nicky, and Cleo,

  being Cleo, would almost certainly have kept him guessing, just to make sure of him.

  "You haven't spoilt my day," she assured him politely, but there was such a flat note of discouragement in her voice that he looked up quickly.

  "Yes, I have. I've been rather childish and dog-in-the-manger, for reasons you wouldn't understand," he said. "Come here."

  "I understand," she said, not moving.

  "Do you? I wonder."

  "Goodnight, Dominic," she said, and slipped out of the room like a little ghost.

  Sunday was disappointingly wet, which kept them all in the house too long for tempers not to become frayed by the end of the day, for Laura's schemes for Nicky's amusement misfired with depressing flatness. She supposed she should have foreseen that Peregrine, with such material at hand to play the benevolent uncle lavishing presents and exciting surprises and playing tireless games, wouldn't miss an opportunity for putting his less inventive brother in the shade, but it hurt her to see Dominic's presents discarded in favour of others and his efforts to join in the fun rejected. By lunch time the boy was over-excited and cross, and everyone was thankful when he was put to bed in the nursery for his afternoon rest, but it was Peregrine, of course, who obliged with a piggyback up the stairs in answer to the demand to play unicorns.

  "Why don't you go up for a bit and tell him a story like you did that night?" Laura suggested to Dominic, but was rewarded with a distinctly chilly look.

  "You're mistaken if you think I'm prepared to bribe my way into a child's affections—or anyone else's for the matter of that. The boy's had too much attention as it is," he said, and took himself off, despite the rain, for a long tramp with the dogs.

  Cleo and Peregrine were ensconced on a sofa in the tearoom with a very definite air of intimacy, and Laura, feeling unwanted by any of them, went out to the kitchen to help

  Bella wash up.

  "It hasn't been a success, has it?" she said ruefully, drying while Bella washed. "We overdid it, of course, but I do wish Perry would sometimes take a back seat. I don't think he cares a hoot about Nicky, and Dominic does."

  "It's only history repeating itself, dear child," said Bella dispassionately. "With this family it's always been the ones who didn't care who won the prizes. Perhaps you will break the chain."

  "Me? I don't make an impression on any of them. How could I break the chain? I don't think I really understand what you're talking about, Bella."

  "Very probably not. Still, dear child, remember the unicorn, won't you?"

  "The unicorn?" For a moment Laura thought this must be one of Bella's more random remarks. She had not thought about the legend for some time, but now, remembering, she felt herself grow pink.

  "You make things sound very mysterious," she said, and Bella absently started re-washing a plate that had already been dried.

  "The best things in life are mysterious," she said. "Death is mysterious—and love—and birth. Do you care for Perry?"

  Her quite ordinary queries were so often a tailpiece to more cryptic utterances that they invariably took you by surprise, Laura thought, not knowing quite what answer to make.

  "I care for his company when he isn't showing off," she replied, "but I would find the Trevaynes too violent and unpredictable to live up to for very long."

  They finished their chores in silence, Bella because abstraction had become a habit when there was nothing more to be said, Laura because her spirits seemed suddenly to drop to zero. Bella, she supposed, had been scattering hints in her odd, roundabout fashion, and Laura knew now that Dominic must have mentioned their discussion on Nicky's future and most likely been rather more explicit as to his intentions.

  Her thoughts went to Peregrine and Cleo, most probably at that moment making lazy love in the tea-room to while away

  a wet afternoon. Only that morning, going very early to the nursery with her Easter parcels, she had met Peregrine coming out of her cousin's room in dressing-gown and pyjamas. He had, of course, been quite unabashed and volunteered the information that he had taken Cleo an early cup of tea, but Laura knew that all the trays were still unused and waiting for Bella to make the tea at eight o'clock. She had no right or, indeed, any wish to censure her cousin's private life, but she found Cleo's willingness to accept marriage from one man while she took what she wanted from another difficult to stomach.

  "I must be be a prig I suppose," said aloud, forgetting she was not alone as she spread out the teacloths to dry, and jumped when Bella answered:

  "Not a prig, dear child—so smug and prim and without humour, don't you agree? And a prig is one thing and a virgin quite another." She made the pronouncement in exactly the same manner in which she had rebuked Peregrine for levity on the morning of Good Friday, and Laura hugged her, suddenly near to tears.

  "Oh, dear Bella, you are so absurd, and I do love you," she said, and bolted from the kitchen to cry in private.

  Dominic returned long after they had all finished tea and going upstairs to change out of his wet clothes met Laura coming down.

  "We mustn't pass on the stairs, it's unlucky," she said with that solemn air she had when voicing superstitions, and he stretched out both hands to the banisters, barring her way.

  "Then one of us will have to go back, won't we?" he said. "Which shall it be?"

  "It's usual," she said, still in that serious voice, "for a man to give way to a lady."

  "But I'm nearly at the top, and I'm soaking wet. You wouldn't like me to catch a chill, I'm sure," he said equally gravely, and she looked down on the black wet head, saw unsuspected grey thr
eads in the disordered hair which was beginning to curl, and the smile in his very blue eyes, and felt her bones turn suddenly to water.

  "You have some white hairs, did you know?" she said rather absurdly, unable to resist touching his hair with a quick involuntary movement.

  "Oh, yes, I know. My shaving mirror points the horrid truth each morning," he replied with mock dismay, but although his voice was teasing, his face changed as he observed the traces of tears on hers, and he said quickly: "Has something upset you, Laura?"

  "No—no, of course not," she answered, wondering if he would ever guess how he himself could upset her.

  "Is it Perry?" he asked, and because in a sense it was Perry combined with Cleo who had caused her distress, she answered: "Perhaps," and saw his face harden.

  "Perry's a charmer, but he's also a philanderer and—unreliable. Remember that, Laura," he said curtly, and saw her eyes widen in surprise. Did he think it necessary to warn her of the obvious at this late stage? she wondered, but she said nothing, and almost at once he dropped his hands from the banisters and stood aside.

  "I think we'll risk passing on the stairs. This house is accustomed to the flouting of superstitions and possibly bad luck," he said with an unexpected touch of bitterness, and she slipped past him and ran down the stairs.

  The weather had cleared by nightfall and the next day was fine and dry as the most pessimistic Bank Holidaymaker could wish for.

  "So nice for the workers," said Bella, who was in one of her rather county moods. "What are you going to do?"

  "I shall take Nicky for his short walk along the headland," Laura said, and was surprised when Cleo said she would come too. She had never offered to accompany them before, and Laura, as they set out, hoped this was not an excuse for embarrassing confidences.

  "You enjoyed your little spree with Perry, didn't you?" Cleo said as they made leisurely progress along the headland. "My day was productive, too. Things are progressing, darling."