The Singing Tree

by Anne Weale

  ‘I prefer them to your sister-in-law’s talons,’ said Roderick. ‘She’s a very pretty girl, but she’d be even more attractive without those red claws.’

  ‘How observant you are. Most men don’t notice those details.’

  ‘Doctors notice—or they should. Sometimes details can be important clues to a diagnosis.’

  ‘This clinic you’ve spoken about—how do you plan to finance it?’ she asked. ‘It sounds an expensive project, and you’ve given me the impression that you have rather limited resources.’

  ‘I have no resources at all, other than my qualifications and the house,’ he agreed casually. ‘My parents only rented the house they had in Arizona. Although they had some medical insurance, it didn’t cover my mother’s treatment in full. My father was in debt when he died. But one can usually find backers for a well-founded project.’

  ‘It’s possible my grandfather might put up some funds—if the clinic was housed somewhere else and you let us remain at the manor until the end of the renewal period.’

  ‘The house is essential to the project, and I want to live here again. As I’ve told you, my parents rented places. Twice they had to move out of properties they liked because their lease wasn’t renewable. They accepted those moves as one of the hazards of tenancy. They knew they would find somewhere else which, after a time, would suit them equally well. I’m sure you’ll find the same thing.’

  They were nearly back at the manor now. She dropped the subject. As they turned the last bend in the drive she saw Abel’s Rolls-Royce disappearing through the archway into the stable-yard.

  She dropped Roderick outside the main door and drove round to garage her car. Then she entered the house by a back way and hovered outside the downstairs cloakroom until her grandfather emerged.

  It was obvious at once that he was in a good humour. Which meant he must have a strong case. Knowing Roderick had gone up to his room to tidy himself before lunch, she said, ‘So you’re going to fight him?’

  ‘Fight him... and beat him,’ he confirmed. ‘But if Anstruther’s got any sense it won’t go to court. Litigation’s an expensive business, which I can afford but he can’t. We’ll settle the matter on my terms.’

  Flower found she couldn’t share his triumph. She didn’t want to move out, yet she knew she could never be comfortable while the rightful occupant of the house was barred from it.

  ‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ said Abel, detecting that her feelings were mixed. ‘I suppose now you’re going to feel sorry for him. You’re too softhearted, that’s your trouble.’

  ‘I—I wish there weren’t a conflict between our interests and his.’

  ‘Maybe there isn’t,’ he answered.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Maybe we can reach a compromise. You’re not having lunch in those boots, are you? It’s time you were changed. I’m hungry.’

  As she ran upstairs she met and passed Roderick coming down. He had brushed his thick springy hair and changed his blue shirt for a pink one.

  She had assumed that Abel would discuss the lease at the lunch table. To her surprise he said nothing about it, but talked of the government’s policies and his own views on how they should handle the country’s economic problems.

  Flower was even more perplexed when, at the end of the meal, he said with unwonted formality, ‘If you’ll excuse us, my dear, we’ll have our coffee in the study and join you in the lounge later.’

  She was left on her own for the better part of half an hour, anxiously awaiting the outcome of their private discussion. Why her grandfather had excluded her from it, she could not imagine.

  At last she heard voices in the corridor. A few moments later the door was opened by Roderick, and Abel marched in, looking even more pleased with himself.

  Roderick’s expression was totally inscrutable. It was impossible to guess what he was thinking.

  ‘I’ve asked him to spend another night here,’ her grandfather announced, ‘I told you we might reach a compromise, and we have. Now it’s up to you, Flower.’

  ‘Up to me?’ she repeated blankly.

  ‘I’ve told him I’ll waive my option—on one condition,’ said Abel.

  ‘The condition being that you should remain here... permanently,’ Roderick continued. ‘Not as the tenant’s granddaughter but as the owner’s wife. Your grandfather thinks it would be a good idea for us to get married, Flower. I admit to being surprised at first; but, now that I’ve thought it over, it seems a very sound suggestion. How does it strike you?’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  After a long pause Flower said, ‘I think you must both be out of your minds. Is this some kind of sick joke? If so, it doesn’t amuse me.’

  ‘I knew you’d flare up at first,’ said her grandfather, ‘but it’s no joke. It’s sound sense, my girl. Just you give yourself time to consider it from every angle, as I have this morning. In the first place—’

  Roderick interrupted him. ‘I think you should leave this to me, Mr Dursley,’ he broke in firmly.

  The old man was not accustomed to being interrupted, or to taking a back seat. For a moment he glowered at the younger man in a way which, had it been his grandson who had spoken out of turn, would have made Stephen mutter an apology.

  Roderick was made of sterner stuff than her brother. He met her grandfather’s glare with a level and unwavering look, which evidently made the old man realise that here was someone who he couldn’t make kowtow to him.

  ‘Oh...oh, very well, if you think so. I’ll leave you alone, then.’

  ‘Wait a minute!’ Flower said angrily. ‘It seems to me that I’m the one whose presence is unnecessary. You two have cooked up this scheme. I’m sure you can handle the details without reference to me. My feelings are really immaterial. I’d be interested to know how much money is involved in the deal. Don’t try to pretend you haven’t discussed the financial side. I shan’t believe you.’

  ‘Yes, we’ve talked about money,’ Roderick agreed. ‘Naturally your grandfather wants to ensure that you continue to enjoy the standard of living to which you’ve been accustomed. Clearly I haven’t the means to keep you in that style, although I expect a dramatic improvement in my income when the clinic is a going concern.’

  ‘I don’t go along with this clinic,’ Abel put in. ‘I’d rather see the house kept up in the old style— privately. On the other hand, I take Rod’s point that he has to have something to occupy him. I’ve offered him a chance to show what he can do in the business world, but he’s turned it down flat. That being so, I’m prepared to make him a substantial interest-free loan, and to give you a generous settlement, Flower. It’s all going to come to you and your brother sooner or later, so it makes no odds in the long run.’

  Her eyes flashed angrily. ‘I see... and my piece of the action is a title, and a husband with whom I have as little in common as Consuelo Vanderbilt and the ninth Duke of Marlborough?’

  ‘Now there’s no call to take that tone, Flower,’ her grandfather said with a frown.

  Roderick said equably, ‘But that match foundered on the fact that he was in love with someone else and she had been bullied into the marriage by her tyrannical mother. Neither factor applies in our case. Now, if you’d leave us alone, Mr Dursley...’

  This time the old man nodded and stumped out of the room.

  As soon as they were on their own, Roderick said, ‘Why don’t we sit down?’

  He indicated a sofa but, deliberately, Flower chose a chair some distance from any others.

  Looking faintly amused by this manoeuvre, he settled himself in a relaxed posture on the sofa.

  ‘My attitude to marriage has been influenced by a controversial book published by an American psychotherapist, Dr Paul Hauck,’ he said. ‘Have you heard of him?’

  ‘No, and in my opinion a lot of psychologists and psychiatrists are too unbalanced themselves to advise other people how to live,’ she answered curtly.

  When Roderick smil
ed, it crinkled the lines round his eyes and formed two oddly appealing creases in his cheeks. Every time they appeared she felt the tug of his attraction, as she did when he made certain gestures with his long hands or when a laugh showed his white teeth.

  ‘There’s something in that,’ he agreed. ‘But if you had read Hauck’s theories on marriage you’d have been as impressed as I was by the good sense of his reasoning.’

  Flower gave a sceptical shrug. ‘What are his theories?’

  ‘He believes that falling in love is a romantic myth. He defines a successful marriage as one based on clear insights as to what the partners want from each other; not what they can give each other. Some people find that a shocking idea. You may be one of them.’

  He had kindled an unwilling interest. She said, ‘What does he mean by “what the partners want from each other”?’

  Roderick eyed her for a moment. ‘Perhaps you’ve never thought out what you need to make you happy. For one person it might be a life of travel and adventure, for another staying in the same place.’

  He suddenly sprang to his feet and began to pace back and forth, his hands in his trouser pockets.

  ‘Some people need parties, others solitude. Some can rub along without much money, others must have certain luxuries. Most very young people don’t understand their own natures, which is why Hauck thinks that, ideally, marriage should be illegal for anyone under, say, twenty-five.’

  He changed direction and came to stand by her chair.

  ‘He would probably think you were too young... although experience is what counts.’

  How much experience did he think she had had? Flower wondered. And by experience did he mean of life in general, or of men? She had an impulse to point out that if he meant the latter she was by no means as experienced as he seemed to suppose.

  Before she could make any comment, Roderick resumed his pacing.

  ‘Hauck’s premise is that marriage is a business; a company of two run to satisfy the healthy self-interests of the partners.’

  He glanced at her. ‘We both want to live in this house, which gives us a strong mutual interest. Also, I’ve arrived at the age when I should prefer what a famous actress called the deep, deep peace of the double bed after the hurly-burly of the chaise-longue.’

  It was a tacit admission that he had had a great deal of experience, she thought. Well, she didn’t mind that. Single men seized their opportunities. They always had and always would, and men with Roderick’s magnetism had more opportunities than most. What she found impossible to judge was whether, having made the most of his chances while he was a bachelor, he would be capable of fidelity to his wife.

  ‘I’d like to have children,’ he went on, ‘so I need to choose a girl who likes them... as you demonstrated that you did this morning.’

  ‘And, above all, you’d like the loan my grandfather has offered you,’ she said with a sting in her voice.

  ‘That too—yes, I don’t deny it. There’s important work to be done here—life-saving work. I’ll take any help I can get, as you would if you felt you had a mission.’

  ‘I wouldn’t describe a luxurious clinic for rich private patients as a mission,’ she retorted. ‘It’s another exercise in that healthy self-interest recommended by your Dr Hauck.’

  ‘You don’t agree with his theories? That’s my fault for putting them over badly. When you read them in full you’ll be more impressed. I’ll see if I can get you a copy of his book. In the meantime try analysing your temperament, working out what you need to make you content and deciding if I can supply it.’

  ‘I already know that you can’t,’ she said shortly. ‘I believe in unselfish love.’

  ‘So did the thousands of people who went through the divorce courts this year,’ he said drily. ‘The last time I saw some statistics, there were over one hundred and fifty thousand divorces a year in this country; and for every couple who broke up their marriage there were others who knew they were living with a bad mistake. Marriage is a great institution. I’m sure it will still be with us a hundred years hence. But that isn’t to say that the reasons why people marry shouldn’t be revised and adapted to produce a higher success rate.’

  Flower said, ‘What does Dr Hauck consider the wrong reasons for marriage?’

  Roderick paused by the table on which stood a Chelsea figure of Apollo playing a lyre.

  He picked it up to study the delicately modelled bocage of flowers and leaves surrounding the god before he answered, ‘One of the wrong reasons is to avoid being unmarried. That can motivate both sexes, apparently; although it’s women who are more likely to marry because they’re afraid of independence, or because they’ve had sex with a man and don’t want to be thought promiscuous.

  ‘To escape an unhappy home is another common reason, and some people actually make what Hauck calls a “therapeutic” marriage, by which he means the need to feel superior to a partner who’s weak and inadequate. It explains why women stick with a man who drinks or gambles.’

  He replaced the porcelain figure on the table. ‘You must have met people who fit those categories,’ he said with a glance over his shoulder.

  ‘Yes, I have. But those aren’t arguments against love. They’re merely examples of its absence.’

  ‘On the contrary, most of the couples who marry for reasons of that sort are under the impression that they are in love. Hauck lists four rational motives for marriage.’

  Tapping his right forefinger against the fingers of his left hand, he listed them. ‘Companionship ... convenient sex... children... a desirable life-style. When they outweigh the neurotic reasons, the marriage or partnership has a good chance. Incidentally, he defines companionship as liking to have someone around for reasons other than sex or the kind of services you can pay to have done for you, such as cooking or household odd jobs.’

  She said, ‘You can’t seriously put forward companionship as a reason for me to marry you. We only met yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘And I’m not suggesting we should marry tomorrow afternoon. There’s a lot to be done before we arrive at that point. It may have to wait for some months. We’ll have plenty of time to make friends. But one thing we have established is that we find each other sexually exciting.’ He began strolling towards her. ‘Haven’t we?’

  When Flower didn’t answer he suddenly quickened his pace to a swift stride. She saw his intention in his eyes and sprang up to try to evade him. But he sidestepped to intercept her. The next moment she was held fast in his arms.

  ‘Please let me go,’ she said coldly.

  ‘Haven’t we?’ Roderick repeated.

  How could she deny it when the feel of his arms and the contact with his tall strong body made her instantly weak at the knees?

  But she wasn’t going to tell him that.

  ‘Do you make a habit of forcing your attentions on women?’

  He looked down at her, laughter in his eyes. ‘Most women like a little gentle coercion.’

  ‘Is that something else you learned from the great Dr Hauck?’

  ‘No, from observation and experience.’

  ‘Of which, I’m sure, you have an extremely wide range. But there are exceptions to every rule, and I don’t like brute strength being used on me. So now will you please let me go?’

  His response was to bend his head and press a firm kiss on her lips. She had no chance to jerk her face aside because his hand was at the back of her head, holding it still while his mouth moved slowly on hers.

  There was nothing brutal about it. That she could have withstood more effectively.

  But to maintain passive resistance while being kissed with great tenderness by a man who not only had every natural advantage but was also an imaginative lover—that was next to impossible.

  Against her will, she found herself yielding and responding.

  Presently he murmured against her cheek, ‘I’ve wanted you from the moment you walked in here yesterday... and you felt the same way. Admit
it.’

  ‘No... no...’

  Her denial was stifled by another long sensuous kiss.

  Sometimes, in other men’s arms, she had felt the first stirrings of pleasure. But never this strange loss of will, this heart-racing, pulsing excitement as his hands moved over her back, pressing her closer to him.

  Somehow, of their own volition, her arms had crept round his neck and her fingers were in his thick hair.

  What happened then was very odd. Suddenly it seemed to her that they were no longer almost strangers, but passionate lovers, saying farewell... Piers and a girl of his time, locked in their final embrace.

  The feeling was so compelling, so real, that she found herself clinging to him and kissing him with a wildness she hadn’t known was in her.

  Her breasts and thighs quivered and throbbed. The evidence of his desire which had put her to flight the night before was no longer alarming. She wanted him to possess her...as he had before, many times. They belonged to each other... heart and mind... body and soul.

  It was he who broke off the embrace, suddenly pushing her from him with a smothered exclamation.

  Dazed and completely disoriented, she gazed in bewilderment as he turned his back and moved away.

  Piers... my love...

  Perhaps she didn’t say the words aloud but only in her mind. He didn’t react. An instant later she knew he wasn’t Piers. It had been an illusion, a waking dream, yet vivid enough to leave her aching with longing, her whole body shaking as she sucked in air like an exhausted runner.

  After a moment or two she sank back into the chair from which she had sprung when she’d seen that Roderick intended to kiss her. She felt even more shaken than she had the night before. Coming on top of his amazing, cold-blooded proposal, the storm of emotion which had just ranged through her like a tornado was too much to take.

  She closed her eyes, striving for composure, trying to come to terms with the fact that what she had refused to admit to him was true. She had wanted him on sight—but only because he was the incarnation of her daydreams.

  ‘Flower.’