by Anne Mather
‘Well, Mrs. Falcon told me that Ross was taking Lucy on a picnic, and when Ross appeared she practically forced him to take me with them. She’s a single-minded person, and just now all she can think about is the problem of Lucy!’ This last was said with a little rush, as though she wanted the explanation to give her justification for what had occurred.
Ben drew on his cigarette. ‘I see. And did he?’
‘Did he what?’ For a moment Tamar was lost. ‘Agree!’
‘Oh - oh no! I don’t think he’ll accept my word.’
Ben grimaced. ‘Tamar, you’ve been here quite some time now. Don’t you think you’ve satisfied whatever it was inside you that needed satisfying? You’ve seen this man - Ross Falcon, you’ve found out what happened to everybody you used to know. Can’t you just leave it there? Come back to London? There are so many things we can do once we’re married. So many places I want to take you!’
Tamar looked at him gently. Why couldn’t she love Ben? What was there to prevent her from doing so? He was, as Emma had once said, a good man, a gentle man; why couldn’t their romance assume magical proportions, as she had once imagined love could be?
She sighed, and finished her tea. Replacing her cup in the saucer, she said: ‘If Mrs. Falcon had never spoken to me, I would have had no qualms, Ben. As it is - oh, I don’t know. It’s a kind of crusade, I suppose.’
Ben rose to his feet, and held her chair as she stood up. ‘Do you know what I think?’ he said slowly.
Tamar flushed. ‘No, what?’
‘I think you’re using Lucy as an excuse. I really don’t think you want to go back.’
‘Oh, Ben, we’ve had all this out.’
‘So you say. However, I’m less sure. Tamar, if - if I was willing to take a house here, live here, at least for some part of the year, would that please you?’
The flush died away, leaving her face a little pale in comparison. ‘No, Ben, I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ she said, beginning to walk out of the restaurant.
Ben shrugged, sighed, and followed her.
In the car, driving bade to Falcon’s Wherry, she said: ‘I’ve been thinking, Ben. My original intention was to stay here six weeks. If I amend that to one month, will you give me that time, at least?’
Ben chewed his cheek. ‘You mean - you want me to go back to London and leave you here for another ten days or so?’
‘Yes. That’s all.’
‘I could stay that long.’
Tamar bit her lip. ‘All right, stay. But at least give me that time.’
‘All right. I won’t mention it again,’ Ben nodded, and Tamar felt a little more relaxed. Ten days. So many things could happen in ten days.
Margaret was already at the presbytery when they returned. She was wearing one of Tamar’s evening dresses, a satin gown in a particularly attractive shade of gold, that toned well with her dark hair.
‘I hope you didn’t mind my borrowing this, darling,’ she drawled, when Tamar and Ben entered the parlour where she was sitting with Father Donahue, ‘but I was sure you wouldn’t want us both scrambling around that tiny room together.’
Tamar shook her head. ‘You can keep it, Margaret,’ she said coolly. ‘I seldom wear it.’
Margaret’s lips tightened. ‘Thank you, darling, but I do have sufficient clothes of my own.’
Tamar shrugged, making a mental note to throw the gown out after Margaret was gone.
Father Donahue, who was standing with his back to the fireplace, said: ‘I’ve been invited to join the party at Falcon’s Head tonight. Will you give me a lift up there, Mr. Hastings?’
Ben smiled. ‘Of course, sir. I only hope it’s not to be a dinner jacket affair.’
‘Oh, no,’ returned the priest, shaking his head. ‘Nothing so formal.’
Tamar said: ‘Excuse me,’ and went to get changed herself. In her room a chaotic scene awaited her eyes.
Obviously Margaret had gone through all her clothes in her search for something to wear, and had taken little trouble to return them to their places. It took Tamar some time to create some order, and then she had to wash and change hastily, leaving her little time to choose something to wear.
She decided on a simple combination of a long emerald green velvet skirt, and a black chiffon blouse with long full sleeves and a high ruched neckline. Beside Margaret she felt sure she would look plain and un- decorative, but both Ben and Father Donahue complimented her on her choice of dress, and only Margaret said nothing.
They drove up to the house on the cliff at seven o’clock. Dinner was to be served at seven-thirty, and that would give them time to have drinks beforehand. Tonight the house was a veritable mass of lights, and when Hedges admitted them to the hall they could hear music coming from the lounge. The maid took their coats, then Mrs. Falcon appeared, in her wheelchair, looking more like her old self in a dark red gown, her grey hair dressed becomingly. She was accompanied by Steven and Shelagh, and Tamar wondered, a trifle anxiously, whether Ross would defy his mother and refuse to attend as he had threatened.
Introductions over, Mrs. Falcon led the way into the lounge. Margaret was looking about her with interest, and she said:
‘This must be an old building, Mrs. Falcon,’ in her most interested voice,
‘It is.’ Mrs. Falcon was always willing to discuss the Falcon ancestry, and Margaret’s casually offered remark had given her that opportunity. ‘This house has stood here through fire and famine, wealth and poverty, for over two hundred years. It was built in the eighteenth century, at a time when the protestant, Henry Grattan, was the leader of the Irish Parliament.’
‘I’m sure Miss Hastings isn’t interested in the history of the place, Mother,’ said Steven hastily.
‘Nonsense!’ Mrs. Falcon quelled him with a look. ‘Ross was only telling me earlier this evening that Miss Hastings is very knowledgeable about our Irish history. Did you know that?’
Tamar felt her nerves tense. Of course! Margaret had spent the day with Shelagh. She was bound to have seen Ross again. That would have been her prime objective, no doubt. She glanced at Margaret, caught the other girl’s eyes on her, and quickly looked away again.
‘I didn’t know you were interested in Irish history!’ exclaimed Ben, with brotherly candour. ‘You’ve never expressed such an interest before.’
Margaret grimaced at him. ‘Heavens, Ben, don’t be so boorish! You don’t know everything about me. This afternoon Ross and I discussed his books, and discovered our mutual interest.’ She glanced at Tamar mockingly.
‘Did you not know your sister had been here earlier today?’ questioned Mrs. Falcon, peering at Ben with those intent grey eyes.
Ben nodded. ‘Well, I knew she had invited herself to join your daughter-in-law,’ he remarked dryly. ‘In the events of the day, I had actually forgotten that she might have spent some time with your other son. I do know he is a writer. He’s chosen a fascinating subject. Tamar and I visited some historical buildings only this afternoon, in Limerick.’
‘Oh, indeed, which ones?’ Mrs. Falcon drew Ben to her side, and Tamar was left with Margaret and Shelagh, Father Donahue having joined Steven by the window where they appeared to be discussing matters of the village.
Margaret sighed. ‘Where is Ross, anyway?’ she asked Shelagh. ‘He did say he would be here this evening.’
Shelagh shrugged. In a pink striped blouse and a long black skirt, she looked slim and attractive, and more relaxed than earlier in the day. ‘I’m not sure,’ she replied to Margaret’s question. “He could be putting Lucy to bed. She likes him to do that.’
Margaret looked bored at the mention of the child, and with another amused glance at Tamar she strolled over to where Ben and Mrs. Falcon were deep in conversation. After she had gone, Shelagh heaved a sigh, and Tamar said perceptively:
‘I gather you’ve seen enough of my sister-in-law-to-be for today.’
Shelagh turned so that they would not be overheard, and when Hedges
passed with a tray of drinks she took two and handed one to Tamar.
‘You’re not joking!’ she exclaimed. ‘Actually, I thought she would attract Steven, and when she suggested coming here this morning, I badly wanted to refuse. But - well, Steven didn’t seem at all interested in her, and it was Ross who seemed to be able to talk to her.’
Tamar studied her drink thoughtfully. ‘I would imagine it was Ross Margaret was most interested in,’ she said, taking a sip of sherry. ‘I rather think she’s taken a fancy to him.’
Shelagh shrugged. ‘Well, good luck to her. Ross ought to find himself a wife.’
‘Who? Margaret?’
‘Not necessarily. But after being a widower for so long, I would imagine he needed time to adapt himself to a woman’s needs. I mean - perhaps he should have an affair. Certainly Margaret could accommodate him there!’
‘We’re being catty,’ said Tamar, trying to keep her voice light, when all the time she felt as though she was being torn apart inside.
Was she jealous? She couldn’t be! Not now. Not today. With Ben’s ring newly placed on her finger. Margaret had not even noticed it, and certainly she had made no attempt to attract attention to it. Maybe Ben was disappointed that she had not. She must be the most selfish person there could be. And yet even now she was subconsciously waiting for Ross’s arrival, for until he came there was no excitement in the room.
They had all had sherry, and the air was quite thick with cigarette smoke, when Mrs. Falcon said: ‘It’s almost time. Shelagh, Steven! Where is Ross?’
Steven came forward. ‘I don’t know, Mother. Maybe he’s out at the stables. Sable must be near her time.’
‘At the stables!’ echoed Mrs. Falcon angrily. ‘God help us, don’t we have a groom?’ She gripped the arms of the chair tightly. ‘Are there no vets within a fifty- mile radius!’
‘Now don’t upset yourself, Mother,’ exclaimed Steven, putting a restraining hand on her arm.
‘Upset myself! I’ll upset myself when I feel like it! He said he wouldn’t come — that he wasn’t a social animal! I’ll give him—’
‘What will you give me, Mother?’ drawled a lazy voice, and she swung round her chair to see Ross leaning indolently against the doorpost. Immaculately dressed in a charcoal grey lounge suit, a white shirt complementing the tan of his dark skin, he looked lean and attractive, and totally civilized.
‘Ross!’ cried Margaret, moving to his side. ‘We’ve been waiting for you. Where have you been?’
‘Doing this and that,’ he remarked unrevealingly, and smiled across at Father Donahue. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you here again, Father,’ he said. ‘You don’t come often enough.’
Father Donahue nodded good-naturedly, and Shelagh said: ‘Ross, have you met Ben Hastings, Tamar’s fiancé?’
Ross nodded, bleakly, shaking hands with Ben. The two men seemed to be sizing one another up.
‘I gather you’re a patron of the arts, Mr. Hastings,’ remarked Ross coolly.
Ben shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t say that, Mr. Falcon, I can recognize talent - at least, so I believe.’
‘And you recognized talent in Tamar’s work?’
It was the first time Ross had used her name since her return, and Tamar had to stop herself from staring at him. Margaret was watching her, and Margaret would not care who she hurt if she wanted something badly enough. Just now she wanted Ross Falcon.
And it was in that revealing moment that Tamar realized that she wanted him, too. That was the pain that was tearing her apart
No, no, no! She swallowed the remainder of her drink too hastily and almost choked herself in the process, having the ignominy of coughing and choking until her eyes watered, attracting all eyes to her. She turned away, wiping away the tears from her eyes, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow her.
But it couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be true! She didn’t want Ross Falcon, and if she imagined she did it was a purely physical thing, nothing more. He was an attractive man, he always had been, and she was only human after all.
Turning round, she brought a smile to her face. ‘How silly of me!’ she said, in a voice which even to her ears sounded rather hysterical. ‘Making a fool of myself, today of all days. Has Shelagh told you that this is rather a special night for Ben and me? We only got engaged, officially engaged that is, this afternoon. Have you noticed my ring? Do you like it? I’m a very lucky girl!’
The dinner party was not a great success. Mrs. Falcon and Father Donahue did most of the talking, and although the food was delicious, Tamar hardly touched a thing. Margaret sat by Ross and tried to draw him into the conversation, but he was rather silent and moody, his brooding eyes surveying the table darkly.
Afterwards, they returned to the lounge, where the french doors had been opened on to the terrace. It was quite a warm evening, though the breeze from the Atlantic was cold on that side of the house.
Steven had unearthed an old gramophone, and some records that had been popular about ten years ago, and he and Shelagh invited everyone to dance. But Ross disappeared after dinner, and as Margaret had no partner she joined Ben and Tamar, giving them the rough edge of her tongue
‘This is a ghastly dump,’ she muttered, lighting one cigarette from another. ‘However can they stand living in isolation? No shows, no cinemas, no parties; not even any television!’
‘Shh!’ said Ben warningly ‘Mrs. Falcon might hear you!’
‘Do you think I care?’ Margaret made a face rudely.
‘There’s only one interesting person in Falcon’s Wherry, and even he has disappeared now.’
‘You mean Ross Falcon,’ said Ben heavily.
‘Of course.’ Margaret looked calculatingly at Tamar. ‘You discovered that long ago, didn’t you, Tamar?’
Tamar accepted a cigarette from Ben. ‘How you do like to try to embarrass people, Margaret,’ she said coolly, amazed at the way she could control her voice. ‘Just because Ross Falcon has not fallen over himself to entertain you, don’t try and cause trouble between Ben and me.’
Margaret looked furious. ‘I should imagine you don’t need any help in that direction,’ she replied spitefully. ‘Your little display of excited anticipation of your wedding this evening was wasted on us. You’re not an actress, darling, you never have been. Everyone could tell why you were making such a fool of yourself!’
‘Margaret!’ Ben’s voice was angry now. ‘How dare you speak to Tamar like that?’
Margaret sniffed expressively ‘For goodness’ sake, Ben, don’t tell me you were taken in by it!’
‘There was no question of being taken in by it,’ said Ben shortly. ‘Tamar and I had planned to bring our engagement to everyone’s attention.’
‘Thank you, Ben,’ said Tamar gratefully, but Margaret was not deceived.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake! Spare me any more of this drivel. When are we leaving? Or is that a rude question?’
Shelagh came across to them just then. ‘Tamar,’ she said, in her friendly way, ‘have you a moment?’
Tamar nodded, smiled regretfully at Ben, and getting up, followed Shelagh across the room and out into the hall. Then she smiled in relief. She had wondered what this summons might mean, but now she could see for herself. Lucy, dressed in blue pyjamas, was sitting at the foot of the staircase, refusing Hedges’ persistent attempts to take her back to bed.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Tamar, looking at Shelagh. ‘She knows Sable has had her foal tonight. I suspect Ross revealed it to her in that curious way he has of communicating with her, and she refuses to go back to bed until she’s seen it.’
Tamar frowned. ‘I see. But she couldn’t go to the stables in her pyjamas.’
‘I know that, and you know that, but she doesn’t know that.’ Shelagh sighed. ‘I’ve tried everything I know to get her back to bed. If Ross were here, he would be able to persuade her.’
Tamar bit her lip. ‘Where is Ross?’
‘At the stables, I expect. But
you know where they are - across the other side of the grounds. Much too far to walk in the dark, and besides, Ross wouldn’t welcome any of us going there and disturbing him.’
Tamar’s eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t expect me to go for him?’ she exclaimed.
‘Well, you can drive, I can’t. You could take Steven’s station wagon.’
‘Oh, no!’ Tamar shook her head. ‘Let Steven go.’
‘I’ve told you, if Steven goes, Ross is likely to ignore him.’
‘Rubbish!’ Tamar felt angry. ‘Shelagh, why won’t Steven go?’
Shelagh flushed. ‘Well, you know what he’s like! He has no time for Lucy. Very likely he would refuse to go, and send her up to bed with a good hiding if he knew.’
‘Oh!’ Tamar nodded. Of course, that was what Steven might do. ‘Well, where’s the station wagon, then?’
‘I’ll show you.’ Shelagh looked at Lucy and shook her head. ‘You’re a naughty girl, disturbing everyone like this!’
Lucy merely cupped her chin on her hands and grinned mischievously, and Tamar felt a momentary desire to hug her. She was so small and sweet and lovable.
The station wagon was in the garage to the right of the house, and Shelagh handed Tamar the keys with a grateful: ‘Thanks!’ Tamar nodded, turned on the ignition, and started the engine.
The grounds of the house were illuminated a little by the moon, but as there were clouds in the sky, there were times when her headlights provided the only illumination, and then she felt nervousness assail her. It was all very well agreeing to go in the brightly-lit hall of Falcon’s Head, and quite another to be driving through the darkness to the isolation of the stables to meet a man who had once threatened to kill her.
