The Singing Tree

by Anne Weale

  She opened her eyes to find him standing beside her, holding two glasses, one of which he was offering to her.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘A little of your grandfather’s excellent brandy.’

  On the point of saying she never touched it, she changed her mind.

  ‘You won’t deny now that there’s a special chemistry between us,’ he said drily.

  She sipped a little of the spirit. It was Remy Martin’s Fine Champagne VSOP, her grandfather’s favourite brand. Although a philistine in many ways, he did appreciate fine wines and spirits.

  At length she said, ‘That doesn’t mean I accept that we could have a successful marriage.’

  ‘Unsatisfactory sex is the rock on which a lot of unsuccessful marriages have foundered,’ was Roderick’s matter-of-fact reply.

  ‘I’ve never heard of a good one based on sex and nothing else.’

  ‘Ours won’t be based on that alone.’

  He didn’t say ‘wouldn’t be’, she noticed. He took it for granted that he could bend her to his will.

  ‘Perhaps that demonstration of our physical rapport has made you forget the three other good reasons for marriage. Children... companionship ... and a mutually desirable way of life,’ he reminded her.

  ‘What about my grandfather?’ she asked. ‘Where does he fit into this plan? Is he to continue to live here? I’m certain that wouldn’t work on a permanent basis. You’d be at loggerheads within a month.’

  ‘Undoubtedly.’

  Later she was to remember the satanic gleam of amusement which accompanied the dry comment.

  ‘However, I don’t think he’ll mind finding somewhere else to live, provided that you remain here and your children grow up here,’ Roderick went on. ‘Shall we call him in and put that point to him?’

  ‘If you wish—as long as you realise that I’m not committing myself to anything,’ she added hurriedly.

  ‘Naturally not,’ he agreed smoothly. But his eyes were mocking. He was sure she would agree eventually.

  She watched him walk out of the room with the long graceful stride so different from her grandfather’s self-important strut or Stephen’s slouching gait.

  Roderick moved with the long-jointed elegance of a thoroughbred horse, his back upright, his shoulders held back. Probably, as a small boy, he had had a nanny to inculcate the habits which now were second nature to him.

  No one had told Stephen or Flower not to slump. It was only when she had been transferred to her boarding-school that her faulty posture had been noticed and gradually corrected by remedial exercises and frequent reminders from the mistresses to sit up straight and not drag her feet.

  Thinking about Roderick’s patrician bearing made her realise that all her previous relationships with men had ended because, sooner or later, their habits had become as irksome to her as her poor posture had been to the mistresses at school.

  So far, nothing about Roderick’s appearance or behaviour jarred on her. But how, on the strength of less than twenty-four hours’ acquaintance, could either of them be sure that they were really compatible?

  She felt that she had known him forever, but she knew that that was an illusion because for more than twelve years she had indulged in romantic fantasies about a man who looked like him. The real Roderick Anstruther was a stranger, a fact she must not allow herself to forget.

  The two men came back into the room. Her grandfather gave her a sharp look, but he didn’t say anything.

  It was Roderick who said, ‘Flower can’t be expected to make up her mind immediately. She needs time to think things over. But if, as I hope, she decides to do me the honour of becoming my wife it will mean that most of the house will be given over to the clinic, with the private quarters reduced to a minimum. There will only be room for the two of us and, in due course, our children. I think you have already taken that into account. But she feels you might not have done so.’

  There was a fractional pause in which it was clear that Abel had not considered this aspect of the matter.

  He did not take long to react. ‘So you don’t want me living with you, eh?’ he said, flicking beady glances at each of them in turn.

  Without hesitation, Roderick answered, ‘You know as well as I do, sir, that there can be only one master in a house. For us both to live here would be an impossibility...and, when we disagreed, divided loyalties would put an intolerable strain on Flower.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ the old man said grudgingly.

  It was, as far as she could remember, the first time he had ever agreed with a point of view he had not put forward himself.

  ‘Yes, you are right,’ he added, in a more positive tone. ‘Well, that’s not a problem. I’ll find somewhere else to live.’

  Whereupon, being without his cellphone, he flung his considerable weight into a chair, which creaked under the strain, and made a call to his secretary. Without any preliminary, he said, ‘Get on to those estate agents who found the manor for me and tell them I want details of all the freehold houses for sale within a thirty-mile radius of this place. Freehold, mind.’ He banged the receiver back on the rest.

  Flower often wondered if the day would come when his secretary would tire of seldom being addressed by name and even more rarely receiving the everyday courtesies. But her grandfather paid well, and presumably his secretary found her salary adequate compensation for his rudeness.

  ‘You certainly believe in “action this day”,’ was Roderick’s comment.

  Abel nodded. ‘I learnt that from Sir Winston Churchill. Once he’d made up his mind he wouldn’t stand for delays. I’m the same. I’ll be out of this house in under a month... you can take my word on that.’

  ‘Now hold on, Dodo...I haven’t agreed to marry Roderick yet,’ said Flower. ‘It’s absurd for you to rush out and buy somewhere else when nothing is settled between us.’ Her chin lifting, her eyes sparkling defiance, she looked from one man to the other. ‘I warn you... if either of you tries to coerce me... I’ll dig my heels in. I’m not as malleable as I was when you stamped on my career plans, Dodo. If need be, I could support myself now. I have some qualifications... and I also have some investments.’

  Seeing her grandfather’s surprise, she went on, ‘I don’t spend as much on clothes as you seem to think. Some of my quarterly allowance goes into a contingency fund. The flat is in my name and I have enough money behind me to pay the overheads for at least a year.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be bu—blowed!’ exclaimed Abel, who normally moderated his language only in the presence of parsons, whom he held in respect except when they had trendy tendencies. ‘I thought all you knew about money was how to spend it. Investments, eh? Who’s been advising you?’

  ‘No one. I’ve used my own judgement. I’ve heard you say dozens of times that if financial advisers really knew what they were doing they wouldn’t be managing other people’s money, they’d be multimillionaires themselves.’

  ‘It sounds as if your granddaughter has inherited some of your financial acumen, Mr Dursley,’ said Roderick. ‘Perhaps, instead of discouraging her ambitions, you should have let her have her head.’

  ‘If she’d come to me with a sensible idea I might have done,’ said Abel. ‘But she wanted to go to art school and I weren’t having that. They’re a loose-living lot, art students. I didn’t send her to a posh school and have her made into a lady for her to go mixing with punks and smoking pot and worse.’

  ‘I tried smoking pot at school, Dodo,’ Flower informed him. ‘It was smuggled in by a girl whose father was a peer and who is now a heroin addict, poor thing. But she didn’t influence me to go the same way. I was a lot more likely to make a mess of my life by having nothing to do than by studying design and wearing way-out clothes for a year or two.’

  ‘If I’d known there was someone leading you into bad ways I’d have had her thrown out,’ he said angrily. ‘You’re not smoking that stuff now, are you?’

  Flower made a negat
ive gesture. ‘I only mentioned it to point out that both Emily and I were exposed to as many bad influences in the supposedly protected environment of school as we were likely to meet after school. If, at fifteen or sixteen, all your peers claim to have had sex you’re a lot more likely to follow their example than you are a few years later, by which time you’ve realised that quite a few of them were lying just to be “in the swim”.’

  Any reference to sex always embarrassed her grandfather. In his youth the subject had been taboo in mixed company, and, although she knew that in a group of men with no women within earshot he would guffaw as loudly as the rest at a dirty joke, he also had a curiously prudish streak.

  When the gossip columnists had implied that she was sleeping around he had shirked talking to her about her allegedly wild ways. It was not thanks to Abel’s loving concern and wise counsel that she had avoided the pitfalls of promiscuity.

  Perhaps sensing that the conversation had taken a tack which was not to his host’s liking, Roderick said, ‘I should like to go for a walk... and take Flower with me. We have a lot to learn about each other.’

  Abel approved of this suggestion with a hearty, ‘Good idea!’

  Flower would have preferred some time alone. At the same time there were questions she wanted to ask Roderick. So she agreed to his suggestion that they go for a tramp in the countryside he had known as a boy.

  The ground being dry underfoot now, they both changed into trainers before setting out.

  ‘Why don’t you have any dogs? Don’t you like animals?’ he asked as they left the house.

  ‘I do, but my grandfather doesn’t. He was bitten by a dog as a child and it put him off them. Did you have dogs when you lived here?’

  ‘Always. My father had three gun dogs, old-fashioned curly-coated labradors. Mother had a black pug and a white whippet, and I had a very intelligent black and tan mongrel.’

  ‘What happened to them when your parents went to America?’

  ‘The labradors were given to a gamekeeper and my mother took her dogs with her. My dog Tom got run over. As he was quite badly injured the person who was in charge of him while I was at school—this was after my parents had moved to Arizona—had him put down. It was probably the right decision but I was rather upset by it.’

  For a moment, seeing his expression, Flower felt a pang of pity for the boy who, having lost his home and with his parents far away, had heard the news that his dog was dead. Privileged he might have been, but not immune from pain.

  But, just as she was thinking that, in that respect if no other, they had something in common, he turned to look at her.

  ‘What sort of dog would you like to have when we’re married?’ His eyes held a glint of teasing.

  ‘You talk as if it were fait accompli. It’s not!’ she retorted emphatically. ‘Frankly, I don’t care for that remark you made to Dodo about there only being room for one master in a household. If you’ve got the idea that, because I’ve allowed my grandfather to dominate my life to date, you can easily dominate the rest of it, think again. I shall never marry except on an equal-partnership basis. If you can’t accept that, forget the whole idea.’

  ‘I accept it unreservedly,’ he answered. ‘Husbands and wives should always be equal partners. What puzzles me is why you allowed your grandfather to talk you out of the career you wanted.’

  ‘He didn’t talk me out of it.’ She explained briefly what had happened. ‘At that time I was too young to see that disowning me was a bluff. He loves me as much as I love him. If he threatens to cut me off if I won’t agree to marry you, I’ll do what I should have then... call his bluff.’

  ‘Perhaps instinct told you life had something else lined up...that you weren’t cut out for a career. Not all women are. Some have gifts which are best expressed in making a home and helping their husband and children to fulfil their ambitions,’ he said. ‘It’s a perfectly honourable role... and far more worthwhile than many of the jobs your sex does outside the home. The only thing wrong with being a housewife is that too few women who are feel a sense of accomplishment. They admit to it rather than proclaim it.’

  She stopped short and turned to face him. ‘But you yourself raised an eyebrow when you found out I ran the manor instead of working in London.’

  Roderick checked his stride to look down at her. ‘Only because of your age. I don’t believe women should be brainwashed into working outside the home unless they want to or circumstances oblige it. But I do think that every woman should have some experience of the rat race so that she knows the pressures and problems her children are going to have to grapple with.’

  He paused before adding. ‘It would have done you good to have gone to art school and tried your luck in the job market. But, if you had, you wouldn’t have been so well qualified to help me adapt the house to its new function... to keep it alive and well in the twenty-first century.’

  Flower began walking again. ‘What exactly is its new function? You haven’t explained that fully.’

  ‘The money-making side of the operation will be a healthy heart clinic for senior executives or anyone else at risk...your grandfather, for example. I don’t want to worry you, but what he eats and the way he lives are almost guaranteed to cause trouble before he’s much older. And it sounds as if your brother could have problems in a few years’ time.’

  ‘I’m sure he will... I’m very worried about Stephen,’ she admitted. ‘His wife’s worried too. This morning, before she left here, Sharon burst into tears. Their life is being made a misery because Stephen can’t stand up to Dodo.’

  She had not meant to confide in Roderick, but now that he had touched on the other worry lurking behind her personal dilemma she had been unable to stop herself.

  He said, ‘That problem may be resolved by your grandfather’s being obliged to step down and hand over to Stephen. I would guess that Mr Dursley has seriously high blood-pressure. Maybe he knows it but is disregarding his doctor’s advice. Maybe he doesn’t know it. Hypertension is a condition some people manage to live with for quite a long time before something happens which can’t be ignored. Have you discussed his health with him?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not really. I’ve tried to persuade him to have an annual check-up but he won’t listen. Perhaps you can convince him it would be a sensible thing to do.’

  ‘Doesn’t he have a doctor of his own?’

  ‘He’s never needed one. I’ve never known him to be ill.’

  ‘Isn’t there a doctor at the works? Most large firms have some medical back-up.’

  ‘There are excellent medical facilities for the lower-paid workers, and health insurance schemes for the senior staff. But Dodo, who could afford to go to the top consultants, won’t go near a doctor. As for Stephen’s GP, his advice was to take some tranquillisers. I was furious. They’re the last thing my brother needs,’ she said, frowning.

  ‘In that case I’ll try having a tactful word with your grandfather,’ said Roderick.

  For the second time Flower halted. ‘I would be grateful if you would.’

  At that moment her concern for her grandfather and brother was the only thought in her mind.

  She was unprepared for Roderick to put his hands on her shoulders and say, with a smile, ‘Is my intervention worth a kiss?’

  CHAPTER SIX

  Without waiting for Flower’s reply, Roderick bent to kiss her lightly on the cheek. Then he turned his head, offering his cheek for her kiss.

  This approach was so different from his forceful embrace in the house a little while earlier that it took her by surprise. After a moment’s hesitation she put her lips to the taut brown skin presented to her.

  Roderick straightened, still holding her shoulders but not with the punitive grip which had brought her to a standstill that morning.

  He said, ‘I want to know where I stand before I go back to the States. So you have just under a fortnight to make up your mind.’

  ‘And if I decide to decli
ne your proposal? What then?’

  ‘Then I’m afraid you and your grandfather will have to find somewhere else to live and I shall have to go to the City for my financial backing, which was my intention in the first place.’

  Flower drew back and he did not restrain her.

  ‘I’m not sure that I want to stay here if the whole place is going to be changed... filled with fat-cat businessmen. What I know of their world doesn’t appeal to me. I love the manor as it is.’

  ‘I loved it as it was,’ he said drily. ‘Your grandfather has been a conscientious tenant, but frankly I don’t much care for the personal touches he’s introduced, particularly in the library.’

  She did not admit that she didn’t like them herself. Instead she said, ‘Are you warning me that if I marry you I shan’t be allowed to arrange the house to my liking?’

  ‘I hope we shall be like my parents and discuss any changes we want to make. Your grandfather tells me that when he first came here your parents moved in with him. It must have been pretty traumatic, losing them both when you were only ten.’

  ‘Yes, it was a shock,’ she agreed. ‘But, in a way, a relief. You see, they didn’t get on. They had terrible rows and that worried Stephen and me...made us feel somehow to blame. I didn’t find out what it was like to be part of a happy, loving family until I went to stay with Emily Fairchild, my best friend at boarding-school. It was the first time I’d seen married people smiling at each other and laughing together the way her parents did... as they still do.’

  No sooner had she told him this than she wondered what had possessed her to confide thoughts she had never shared with anyone but Emily.

  To her astonishment he touched her cheek gently with his knuckles. ‘Poor little rich girl.’

  Was he mocking her? Yet there was a note in his voice which brought a curious lump to her throat. She had to turn on her heel and walk briskly on or he would have seen tears in her eyes.

  ‘At least I’ve been miserable in comfort,’ she said, trying to sound flippant. She didn’t want him to guess how vulnerable she was. He had only to show her a little tenderness and she was lost, no defences left. ‘Were your parents able to live in reasonable comfort in America?’ she asked.