The Vital Spark

by Carson, Angela

  `That was the switchboard operator back at the nursery,' Haydn cheerfully imparted his news as soon as he returned. The foreman left a message for her to ring me by nine and tell me that there would be another few trays of berries and tomatoes coming with the morning consignment, and the van would be here by the time you were ready to set off. They weren't to know you'd be early for once,' he said accusingly.

  `Vince didn't order them.' She felt her anger rise again at his cool command of their marketing arrangements.

  `No, but he'll take them when he sees what his chef has done with the others,' Haydn prophesied. 'That man had every intention of going to town on those berries. It's my guess he's left the lunch today to the underlings, and the sweet trolley will be his own masterpiece,' he predicted. Now's the time to follow up with another supply. Not too big, just four trays this time, enough to whet their appetites for more. Strike while the iron's hot,' he advised her solemnly, and Lee winced. 'I know,' a grin brightened his face, 'but whoever invented that particular cliché had got the right idea, he—that sounds like the van coming, now.'

  He broke off and peered out of the window, and Lee followed him in time to see a gaily tartaned figure of a piper on the side of the delivery van pulling to a halt on the gravel, and the name of Scott scrawled in larger copperplate diagonally across the doors. A smartly uniformed driver slid open the side door, and Lee's eyes widened at the sight of the purpose-fitted racks inside, each containing a carefully paper-capped tray, except for the nearest stack. The tops of those trays were bare.

  `Here you are, Mr Haydn,' the man saluted his recognition as Haydn strode out of the front door to meet him,

  `four of tomatoes and four of berries, like you said. Shall I make it a standing order now, until you tell me otherwise?' he, asked briskly.

  `Please, Tom, it'd be a great help if you would.'

  `Consider it done, sir.' The man nodded to Haydn cheerfully, inclined his head in a friendly fashion to Lee, and was on his way again, leaving the trays as Haydn directed on the gravel beside the Mini van. What a difference in Haydn's handling of his staff ! The thought flashed through Lee's mind. There seemed to be friendly co-operation on both sides, and' no lack of respect on either. That was something Vince would not understand, even if it was pointed out to him.

  `All we've got to do now is to cap these eight trays and load them. Ben said he'd put some paper covers in the van, ready.' Haydn opened the back door of the Mini, and Lee scowled. He had evidently told Ben, but he had not thought fit to tell her. She wondered if he had even condescended to mention it to Jon. He ducked inside the van and picked up a small pile of tray covers, and began to slide them over the newly delivered fruit.

  `I suppose you think those ought to be altered as well,' Lee could not resist the thrust, and he glanced up at her from where he stooped over the trays.

  `No, why should they?' he asked mildly. 'It might be a good idea to have coloured ones, if you're going to have a white daisy with a yellow centre as the Polrewin trademark.' He put his head on one side, considering the matter. `A yellow paper would be distinctive, and show up the white daisy. The same as the yellow van roof shows up the daisy transfer on top,' he pointed out the obvious.

  `I haven't decided whether we'll have a trademark yet.' She set her lips stubbornly. She refused to be hurried into doing anything, by Haydn. The idea of a distinctive trademark was a good one, and she liked the idea of a daisy. Somehow it seemed to fit Polrewin, and its stark simplicity appealed to her. But she would not be chivvied into anything, particularly by Haydn.

  `You'll have to make up your mind before the festival,' he pointed out reasonably. 'If you're going to decorate the

  float with your trademark, it'll be useless having lots of daisies if you decide to do the same as we have, and make a play on the name

  The kilted piper was an excellent idea, neat and noticeable, but, 'How could we make a play on the name of Polrewin?' It did not lend itself very well to anything.

  `You couldn't,' he remarked drily, 'unless you decided to be funny, and use the picture of a parrot clutching a bottle of gin. Not a good idea.' He paused to allow the significance to sink in, then added softly, 'I'd much rather have a daisy. Somehow, it suits you.' The significance of that did not sink in until they were half way to Tarmouth, and then Lee remembered he had said 'suits you', and not 'suits Polrewin'. A simple white daisy. Suited to a naive girl?

  `There you are, Miss Ramsay.' Mr Dunn handed her the tally direct this time, and she put it in her pocket and drove on to the Royal Anchor, where she dropped the tomatoes and strawberries with the delighted chef, then ran the van into a parking slot on the harbour wall.

  `I thought it might be nice to walk across to the harbourmaster's place from here, it'll save you from having to drive round the bollards and so on along the jetty,' Haydn remarked, and Lee hesitated. She did not want to go with him. She felt edgy, and on the point of quarrelling with him if he should try to push her about the trademark, and she did not want to spoil Jon's trip to the Channel Islands. She would rather wander round the shops by herself until lunchtime, then meet him at the Royal Anchor, by which time she might feel in a better humour. She looked up, saw Vince strolling down the hotel steps, and made up her mind on the instant. She did not want Vince's company, either. He might press her to partner him at the dancing....

  `That's a good idea.' She turned along the harbour wall, but not before she had seen Haydn follow her glance towards the hotel steps.

  `Mind that lobster pot.' It was big enough for anyone to see, but Haydn put his arm protectively round her waist and ostentatiously steered her round it. She glanced up at him, puzzled, and met his grin, and remembered that Vince would be looking on.... Her glance turned into a glare, his

  grin widened, and he dropped his arm to let her walk free, but not, she noticed vexedly, until they had rounded some cars parked in the end slots and started to walk along the hard towards the harbourmaster's office, safely out of sight of Vince from the hotel steps.

  `Here you are, Mr Scott, they're all ready for you.' The official saw them coming, and with commendable promptness opened out a sheaf of papers in front of Haydn. 'If you'll just put your signature here, that's all that's necessary, and I needn't bother you again.' He waited while Haydn read the contents of the paper with cautious thoroughness before he signed.

  `We're going over to the boatyard now,' he commented, `just to see how the repairs are progressing.'

  `Pretty well, I imagine.' The harbourmaster sounded encouraging. 'They haven't got much work in at the moment, and I know they were working on it the last time I passed. I suppose you wouldn't like to row across, would you?' he offered obligingly. 'I've got one of their boats here, and I promised to let them have it back.' He looked lovingly at his motor-cycle parked outside his office, and his preference in transport was plain.

  `It'll make a pleasant change,' Haydn said accommodatingly. 'Come on, Lee, I'll drive for once.' He took her arm, not giving her time to object. The stone steps were steep and wet from the slopping tide, and the rowboat looked remark-ably small from where they stood on top of the harbour wall, but encouraged by his hand under her elbow she negotiated them gingerly, and stopped on the last dry step.

  `I'll go first,' he told her. 'Stay where you are until I'm settled.' He stepped into the skiff with catlike grace; she could not but admire his perfect balance, the boat scarcely moved under him, as he stood astride and held out his arms. `Let yourself go,' he said, 'you'll be quite safe.' Safe from a wetting, no doubt. The thought crossed her mind with the memory of their swim to the point. She shut her eyes as she felt his hands grasp her and swing her away from the firm harbour steps, into space. She tensed, expecting the boat to tip, expecting to fall, then dry boards were under her sandals, and she opened her eyes, and Haydn's face laughed

  into her own as he said,

  `Talk about wasted opportunities !' For a moment he held her close to him, as he had held her on the rocks of
the point. 'If only this was as steady as the deck of the Sea Mist,' he mourned, and the devils lit his eyes again as the colour rose through her throat to her face, 'but there, we might both tip into the harbour,' he added regretfully, `and that would be a pity, since you're all dressed up to go to the Royal Anchor.'

  Carefully he let her go, sat her down in the centre of the skiff, and took up the oars, facing her. Lee wished desperately that he did not face her. It would be much better if he turned his back and looked the other way. If that was the way his thoughts were running, she was glad they were not on the Sea Mist.... Or was she? Confused thoughts raced after one another round her head, and she put her hand up to her eyes to try and brush them away, but the boat rocked at her movement and she put it hurriedly back again and held on to the flimsy seat, wishing they were walking back along the safe, steady harbour wall.

  `Good exercise, rowing,' Haydn murmured mischievously, seeing her movement, and she gritted her teeth and tried not to notice the rhythmic smoothness of muscles in perfect trim moving under teak-coloured arms to the steady pull, swing, that drove the small skiff with precision and deceptive speed through the water towards the opposite side of the harbour. She turned her eyes away, uneasily conscious of his closeness, and even more conscious of her own inability to do anything about it.

  `That speedboat—look, it's coming staright for us !' Her voice came out in a gasp of fear, and the noisy boat, with a grinning youth at the wheel, swung away from them at the very last minute and headed out of the harbour. They caught the full sideways wash, as the inconsiderate driver intended they should, and their small craft lurched alarmingly. Lee screwed her eyes tight shut and gripped the sides' of the seat with terrified fingers, and she did not feel Haydn move, but the next second he was on the seat beside her, his arm round her, and his voice in her ear. An angry voice this time, with no amusement in it.

  -

  'That's the last time the young fool will do that in this harbour !' he grated furiously, then his tone changed. `We're not going to tip over, don't worry. There's nothing to be afraid of.'

  She felt the tension leave her. Her fingers eased their grip on the seat, and she leaned against him, trembling. `You know,' he rebuked her lightly, 'someone who can swim as well as you can shouldn't be afraid of a ducking.'

  `I'm not used to swimming in a tight dress.' She felt ashamed of her sudden panic, now. She kept her face turned into his arm, waiting for the trembling to go. Very faintly she could smell the freshness of his aftershave lotion, and she lay limp against him for a moment or two, her breath released in a long sigh. 'I thought he was going to run us down—that he hadn't seen us.'

  `From now on he'll have his activities curtailed,' Haydn promised, and Lee knew he would carry out his threat, although she did not know how. She remembered the small boy he spanked on his arrival at Tarmouth, and momentarily felt sorry for the speedboater, then she told herself resolutely that it was his own fault, and he deserved whatever Haydn intended to mete out.

  `Better now?' He tipped her face up towards him, his finger firm under her chin so that she could not look away.

  `Almost.' The fright was nearly gone, although her heartbeat was not as steady as it should be, which was not entirely the fault of the speedboat owner.

  `Then let's make it quite,' he said calmly. 'Remember my old nanny's prescription?' and he bent down and kissed her firmly on the mouth.

  And only after all her thoughts of the speedboat had been effectively driven out of her head, and his old nurse's prescription had worked its charm, did Lee remember that from their position in the middle of the harbour, they were in full view of Vince from the hotel steps. And Haydn must have known that, too.

  CHAPTER SIX

  FOR the rest of the way across the harbour Lee sat very still.

  It had not been necessary for Haydn to use her to score off Vince. He did not need to score off the other man, there was nothing between herself and Vince, any more than there was between herself and Haydn. Honesty made her admit that Vince's scarcely veiled antagonism when the two men met in the hotel had invited retaliation, but Haydn need not have been quite so blatant about it. She simmered with silent resentment, and resolutely kept her face turned shorewards. It was almost as if Haydn was openly staking his claim on her, and she had given him no cause to think he had the right. Or perhaps it was simply male aggressiveness, the one taking what he knew the other one wanted. That thought was even less palatable than the first one, and she breathed a sigh of relief as they bumped to a halt at the bottom of the stone steps on the other side of the harbour.

  `Sit still for a moment.' Haydn gained the steps with a surefooted leap.

  `Don't loose the rope!' Panic returned as the rope ran through his fingers, and slowly but inexorably the boat started to drift away from the side of the steps. Already a foot of water was showing between it and the harbour wall.

  `Don't panic, I'll pull you back.' And he did, and took his time about doing it, Lee thought with asperity. She rose from the board seat, anticipating his move to help her ashore, and stubbornly determined not to accept it, then the boat bumped on the side of the steps and she sat down again abruptly.

  `I told. you to sit still,' he reminded her mildly—and infuriatingly—and did not wait for her to grasp his outstretched hands. He reached down and grabbed her, and with an effortless pull he swung her on to the steps beside him, then bent down to tie the rope to an iron ring with a dexterous twist.

  `Now for the boatyard, and a look at the Sea Mist.' He straightened up and took hold of her hand again, although he had no need to now, Vince would not be able to see them from this distance.

  `Slow down !' She could not keep up with his long strides, and he obligingly slackened his pace.

  `I'm too keen to see my boat, I suppose,' he excused his haste.

  `She'll be ready for you in another twenty-four hours, Mr Scott.' The owner of the boatyard strolled across to meet them. 'The damage wasn't so bad as it looked once we got down to it. All the real work's already been done. Come and look.' He led the way to where the Sea Mist stood in the boat shed, looking curiously vulnerable out of her natural element, like a bird without its flight feathers. 'A lick of paint is all that's needed now.'

  `You've got quite a big outfit here.' Haydn sounded impressed, and he gazed about him with knowledgeable eyes. `By the way, the harbourmaster asked us to bring your skiff back. It's tied up at the bottom of the steps.'

  `I'll have it fetched up later.' The man nodded his thanks. `As for the yard, here, it's not really big enough now,' he responded to Haydn's obvious interest. 'Our trade's increased by leaps and bounds over the last couple of years.'

  `It's a nice little anchorage.' Haydn looked out appreciatively across the harbour.

  `That's what the boating fraternity is beginning to discover,' the man said in a satisfied tone. 'The bigger anchorages further along the coast get crowded. This one's smaller, and of course so is the town, there's not so much entertainment going on, but the folk who like it a bit quiet keep coming back, and bringing more with them. They find there's more room for their boats and for them, and of course they bring the work with them. We're going to have to expand.'

  Someone else with expansion on the brain, Lee thought irritably, and subsided on to a bollard with bored resignation while the two men talked. The hole had disappeared from the side of the Sea Mist. Apart from the lack of paint, it was impossible to see where it had been. Twenty-four

  hours, the boatyard owner had said it would take before it was finished. That meant the day after tomorrow they would be able to go to the Channel Islands. What should she wear?

  `We'll be moving into a new yard at the end of the season.' Snatches of conversation reached her ears in between wondering what to put on when Haydn took them to his home nursery, and she listened in a desultory fashion, more intent on the respective merits of a smart outfit or a warm one for the journey.

  `What will you do with these premises, afte
r you've moved?' It was Haydn speaking.

  `Sell them to finance the new place,' the boatyard owner said promptly. 'They would be ideal for someone who wants warehouse space with a good anchorage alongside, though we wouldn't want a rival boatbuilder to have them, of course,' the man laughed.

  `The competition would be too close for comfort,' Haydn agreed cheerfully. 'When can I come and collect the Sea Mist?' he returned to the business in hand.

  `About this time tomorrow morning?' the man suggested. 'We can go out on a trial run then, and if you're satisfied we'd anchor her in the harbour ready for you to take off any time you wanted.'

  `We'll be here,' Haydn promised, and Lee wondered if he meant herself or Jon as the other part of the 'we'. No doubt he was relying on her to bring him to Tarmouth with the morning delivery of salads to the greengrocers.

  `You looked miles away.' Haydn disturbed her from her seat on the bollard. 'It's lunch time,' he reminded her unnecessarily. 'What were you dreaming about? The chef's pastries?'

  `No, I was wondering whether to wear something warm or smart when we visit your nurseries,' she told him frankly, and he smiled.

  `Dress in layers that you can peel off, if necessary,' he advised. 'It'll be cool going over on the water, and hot when we get to the Islands, particularly if you stay with Jon and me and go through the glasshouses. Of course, you could make the bottom layer that fetching white swimsuit you

  had on the other day,' he suggested slyly, and she pulled a face at him.

  `Keep your mind on the chef's pastries,' she told him, suddenly lighthearted, and laughed with him as they ran up the steps of the Royal Anchor and bumped straight into Vince, who confronted them just inside the door. Had he seen them coming, and deliberately waited for them? Lee's smile faded, but the one on Haydn's face, if anything, grew broader. He positively exuded bonhomie.