The Vital Spark

by Carson, Angela

  `I thought you wanted to dance?' Bewilderment and sudden disappointment took hold of Lee. They were at one, when they danced.

  `So I do, but later. At the ball, tonight.'

  So why bring her back to the float? Perhaps he wanted to go home?

  `Not yet.' He sensed her question even before she asked it. 'You should have a flower for your hair.' He reached out lazily and plucked a daisy from the side of the float. He held

  it for a second or two, shook it to make sure it was quite dry, then carefully tucked it among the waves of her hair.

  `You should always wear a daisy,' he told her solemnly. `They become you.'

  They would become anyone as naïve as she was.... `About the daisies,' she spoke haltingly. 'I'm sorry—I thought ' she stammered to a confused halt.

  Ben meant well.' His voice was amused, uncritical. 'Let's forgive him, shall we?'

  `I feel I owe you....' She meant to say 'an apology', but she could not speak the words with Haydn's lips exploring her own.

  `Owe me for the daisy?' He removed them for a moment. `Now I come to think of it, you did say you'd pay for the daisies.' He looked down at her reflectively, and the glow in his eyes brought the warm, shy colour rushing to her cheeks.

  `You took....' she whispered. He had taken a kiss beside the field of daisies, while they were still growing.

  `So I did.' The glow deepened, and he bent his head above her, and his low laugh told her he remembered, too. But that was only on account,' he told her softly.

  CHAPTER TEN

  `I'LL put it in water.' Lee took the daisy out of her hair and stood in the middle of her bedroom floor, looking at it undecidedly. 'No, I won't, I'll press it.' Along with the piece of honeysuckle Haydn had plucked from the hedge for her, and ,one of the miniature red rosebuds she had brought from his nursery.

  She felt in a curious state of suspension. Her mood on the way back from Tarmouth yoyoed wildly between bliss and misery. Haydn's kisses had held the same seeking demand as the ones on the day they had swum to the point; it seemed a lifetime ago now. They were not angry, like the one he took while they were on the island, or the one on the sea wall after the procession was over. Was his ardour the result of the festival spirit, in which kisses might be given and returned with no real meaning beyond a shared joy of the day, and no regrets afterwards on either side? She did not know, any more than she knew whether her own response had betrayed to Haydn the true state of her feelings. The uncertainty left her feeling confused and vulnerable, and she sought refuge in work as soon as they returned to Polrewin.

  `There's no need for you to bother, Sis, now we've got Ben full time,' Jon refused her offer of help. 'By the way, Ben, about those stretchers....' He hurried over to the older man, and Lee returned disconsolately to the house and sought out Nell.

  `I can manage well enough on my own,' the housekeeper told her forthrightly. 'There's not enough to do in a place this size to keep one body occupied, let alone two.'

  Lee wandered back to her own room, feeling in the way. She did not want to take the two dogs swimming again today. The calf of her leg ached at the mere thought of going in the water, and she shivered, and turned to her wardrobe. She had not decided yet what to wear for the ball tonight.

  He thoughts wandered as she riffled through the dresses. It really did look as if Jon would not need her help now Ben was working full time. By pressing her brother into making a decision on the marketing arrangements, Haydn had virtually made her redundant. Strangely, she no longer resented his action. It did not seem to matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was that she loved Haydn, and he did not love her.

  She surveyed the possible dresses listlessly. The black one suited her mood, but it was too sophisticated to wear tonight. It had been bought for a formal occasion, and served her well several times since. But not for the festival dance. Perhaps, after all, Haydn did not care all that much for sophisticates? What did he care for? She did not know that, either, and the lack of knowledge only increased her confusion and uncertainty. She hesitated over a white dress, and her hand strayed on. That did not suit her mood, either. Her fingers paused on one she had not worn before. She bought it on impulse two years ago, because she loved the vivid, eye-catching colours, and so far she had not had an occasion to wear it. It would be just right for a festival ball.

  She fingered the stiff, rustling silk, and her mood lightened a little. From a tight, sleeveless bodice, the skirt cascaded over her arm in a fan of pleats, jewel-bright with a forked lightning pattern slashed across them in a multicoloured rainbow display. She took it off its hanger and held it against her, then twirled round experimentally. The skirt billowed away from her slender waist. It breathed the snap of castanets, and the throb of guitars under warm, Southern nights. All the verve of the dance passed on to her from her Spanish ancestors tapped her feet in response, and she spread it lovingly across her bed. There was an ankle-length waist slip to go with it, somewhere.

  Lee rummaged, with scant regard for the chaos inflicted on the orderly piles of everyday undies in her chest of drawers, until her fingers encountered stiff lace, and she drew it out triumphantly and laid it beside the dress. She did not question that either would fit, and when she showered and changed, and slipped into first the petticoat

  and then the dress, she found her confidence was fully justified.

  Sheer stockings and slender strapped dancing slippers added a touch of luxury, and her mirror gave her morale all the support it needed when she surveyed the result. Her hair lay close against her head in deep waves, and her dark eyes glowed with -a soft, inward light. She would need all the confidence she could muster at the ball tonight; to dance in Haydn's arms was like being torn apart. To smile and talk and respond to the bright, laughing banter that made the atmosphere of the yearly festival ball would require all her determination. The dress gave her courage. She clipped a pair of gold rings to her ears, completing the exotic flavour of her costume, and had the satisfaction of knowing she looked her best. She could not know how closely she resembled that earlier, Spanish beauty whose looks had been renowned. She only knew she had done her best for Haydn—and he probably would not notice, or care if he did.

  A fit of shyness took her as she was about to go downstairs, and she turned back and reached for a silk coat to cover her dress. She would need some form of wrap when they returned; although the evening was still hot now, it would be early morning before the ball was finished, and cool by the water. The high mandarin collar and loose folds of the heavy silk cloak shimmered green and gold as she moved, and enveloped her from throat to ankles, giving her a feeling of cosy security that bolstered her confidence as she joined Haydn downstairs. She felt his eyes upon her, but he did not say anything, and he was unusually silent on the journey back to the Royal Anchor.

  `I wonder what the chef's masterpiece will be for the buffet table?'

  She spoke nervously, unable to bear the silence any longer. Haydn, clad in casual slacks and shirt, however impeccably cut, she could stand up to, and even quarrel with. But this silent, aloof man beside her in the Mini, devastatingly handsome in the magpie colouring of evening dress, was a stranger, and a daunting one at that. He must have brought his evening clothes back with him the day

  they visited the Channel Islands.

  She pleated the green-gold silk of her cloak in tiny folds, with restless fingers. She thought it would have been easier than this. Put on a bright smile and a brave face, and talk lightly about nothing. But you could not talk to someone who would not answer, someone who just looked at you when you spoke, so that you knew he must have heard what you said, but then looked away again.... They joined the line of other drivers heading in the same direction, and Lee gave up her effort at conversation and left Haydn to concentrate on driving.

  Her fingers stopped pleating her cloak, and she smoothed out the material with a sigh. Tiny, sharp creases showed along the edge, betraying her nervousness to observant eyes. She felt Hayd
n glance at them, once, briefly, encompassing the fact, but not, she hoped, the reason, then he looked away again and the silence tensed her nerves until they felt at screaming pitch by the time they parked once more beside the daisy-covered float and joined the jostling, cheerful crowd in the foyer. The ballroom at the Royal Anchor was capable of holding three hundred dancers, and it looked as if it would be full tonight.

  `I love your dress, Lee.'

  A girl of about Lee's own age called across the powder room as she handed in her cloak and shook out the folds of her dress, and another joined her with frank envy.

  `That should pin Vince down, if nothing else does !'

  Lee smiled, the smile she had vowed she would wear whatever happened during the evening, and it must have worked, because the two girls smiled back, cheerfully friendly. She did not want to pin Vince down, whatever that meant. She did not even want to meet Vince, and the same reluctance to rejoin Haydn kept her paying unnecessary attention to her hair until the two girls swept her out of the door along with them.

  `There's Vince.'

  `I'm not with Vince.' She had to quieten them, in case Vince heard, and came up. In case....

  `She's with me.'

  Haydn came across to claim her. He was easily the most

  handsome man in the room. Lee felt, rather than saw, the two girls stare, heard the one breathe, 'I say!' in a way reminiscent of Betty, the greengrocer's daughter, as Haydn towered above her, his hand on her arm, guiding her towards the ballroom, and she should have felt glad and proud; but instead she felt miserable, and uncertain. But somehow she managed to keep the smile on her face, and respond to the greetings from her many acquaintances. She had not had time yet to make any real friends in Tarmouth.

  Curious glances slanted in their direction as they passed through the crowd, but Haydn seemed impervious to them, although Lee's heightened sensitivity made her acutely aware. Just as she was aware of Haydn looking down at her, although she kept her eyes lowered, she felt the power of his. Felt his hand leave her arm and slip to her waist, the better to ease her passage through the dancers, and those standing on the edge of the ballroom just watching.

  `Let's go and see how the flowers are faring.'

  Instead of walking her round the edge of the room to where the flowers were, he drew her into his arms and danced her there. It was a quickstep, and he swung her so that her dress billowed and flowed about her feet like a moving rainbow, and she did not even notice when they passed the massed flowers they had worked on together only that morning. Haydn's dancing was exhibition standard, and her own not far behind, and she surrendered to the rare pleasure of performing with a partner who equalled and surpassed her own prowess.

  She wanted to dance like this for ever, floating on a cloud of illusion that she knew would shatter when the music stopped. The tempo changed, and a tango took the place of the quickstep, and all except one other couple deserted the floor, but Haydn and Lee danced on, oblivious to their surroundings, conscious only of the dance, and of the joy of moving in perfect harmony, until the music drew to a crescendo and stopped, and a burst of spontaneous applause broke from the circle of people lining the walls of the room. She looked up at him, then, the heady excitement of the dance still in her eyes and her flushed cheeks, which

  deepened into a rosier hue at the expression on his face. The chef asked if you'd like to view the buffet table, sir, before it's opened to the guests.'

  A waiter made his way towards them, and drew them to a door at the end of the ballroom.

  `He wants us to see his masterpiece,' Haydn guessed with a smile, and Lee descended from her rosy cloud and managed to answer him.

  `It must be something very special.'

  It was. In all her demonstrating experience, Lee had never seen anything like it before. A large swan, fashioned from icing sugar, sailed majestically across a sheet of mirror glass, and in the hollow of its back, between arched wings, reposed a dish of the best strawberries delivered from Polrewin that morning. A flotilla of miniature paired wings surrounded the large swan, making individual strawberry-filled dishes for the delectation of the guests. Cunningly placed gladioli served as coloured rushes, reflecting in the mirror surface like a pool. The chef had created a fairyland, and Lee stood entranced.

  `You miss it, don't you?' Haydn asked, his eyes on her face.

  `Yes.' She did not try to deny it. 'But Polrewin comes first.'

  `And after Polrewin,' Haydn asked softly, 'what then?'

  `I can return to my old career, I suppose.' Her voice was flat. Her old job would be gone. It would be difficult to pick up the threads again. As if she was with them in the room, Lee could hear Moira Scott's voice speaking with wisdom learned from experience.

  `Don't give everything to the nursery. Keep something of yourself alive, for afterwards.'

  `I don't want to go back inland,' she admitted slowly, `I should miss the sea.' The sea, rather than Polrewin, she thought with a flash of honesty. Her particular niche there was filled more ably by Ben and Nell. She had given twelve months to the nursery, and she could leave her investment in it to give Jon the backing he needed. Her practical help was no longer necessary. She expected it to hurt, but it gave her a strange sense of release.

  `I, too, should miss the sea now.' The chef took up her remark, and Lee grasped at the diversion. She did not want to answer Haydn's question, not even to herself. Not tonight....

  `Your art is wasted here.'

  `I thought so too, once, but now—I wonder?' The chef looked thoughtful, and Haydn's glance keened interestedly.

  `You've got something in mind,' he guessed shrewdly.

  `Your strawberries put it there,' the man smiled at Lee. `With supplies of top quality material, an independent caterer could supply not one hotel, but many The big resorts along the coast would get to 'hear. They have conferences, and balls. Their own staff could do the standard meals, and I would provide the specialities. Like this,' he nodded towards the buffet table. 'It would be an all-the year-round trade. Mr Merrick—I mean Mr Vince's father —is delighted with what I've done tonight, and he's brought some of the more important guests to see it, the same as yourselves. I've already had a number of enquiries.'

  `If you set up in business on your own, you'll need help,' Lee realised with sudden hope.

  `Occasional help, at first,' the chef agreed. 'I did hope you might be able to join me now and then, if you have any time to spare away from your nursery?'

  `We'll think about it.' Haydn answered before Lee could speak, and the chef nodded, and hurried away.

  `It doesn't need any thinking about.' Lee's temper erupted, and she spun to face Haydn. 'It's just the opportunity I've been looking for. And what do you mean, we'll think about it? Since when did you include this kind of thing in your repertoire?' She waved an angry hand towards the swans.

  `It's a bit outside my scope,' Haydn admitted, and she interrupted him impatiently.

  `Well, it's not outside mine,' she fumed, 'and I don't need you to answer for me. I've put up with your interference at Polrewin because that partly belongs to Jon, but this is my affair. It's got nothing to do with you.'

  `I wouldn't dream of interfering,' Haydn assured her, and Lee bit her lip. If anything, he was more infuriating when

  he agreed with her than when he didn't. 'Vince might try to, though,' he added mildly.

  `It's got even less to do with Vince than it has with you,' she retorted sharply.

  `He'll lose his chef,' Haydn pointed out.

  `It'll serve him right,' Lee snapped. 'He should treat his staff properly.' She broke off hurriedly as the buffet room doors were flung open and the guests began to stream in, preceded by Vince himself He gave Lee and Haydn a surly look; evidently he had not forgiven them for telling him to go away that afternoon.

  `I suppose the chef let you in here?'

  His frown showed that he knew of the chef's plans, too.

  `It's a superb arrangement. Congratulate your chef
,' Haydn said wickedly, and drew Lee unresisting towards the door under cover of the admiring exclamations from the other guests who hurried forward to see the table.

  `Would you like some refreshments?' Haydn paused, as if about to turn back.

  `No. Thank you.' Belatedly, Lee remembered her manners. 'For goodness' sake let's get out of here, the crush is awful.' She wanted to get away from Vince, not the crush.

  `Not even strawberries?' Haydn persisted.

  `I hate strawberries,' she retorted vehemently.

  `You'll have to make an effort and eat some,' he told her blandly as they gained the ballroom again. 'It looks as if the chef might have sent some out specially for us.' A discreetly beckoning waiter caught his eye, and he steered her in the direction of a small table by the bandstand, on which reposed a tray bearing a selection of dainties. Lee's heart sank; she felt she could not swallow anything more solid than lemonade.

  `You two are honoured. How did you manage it?' The owner of the boatyard strolled across and greeted them cheerfully.

  `By knowing people in high places,' Haydn grinned. `Vince, I suppose?' The man slanted a glance at Lee. `No, the chef.' Haydn put his priorities right, and the

  man laughed.

  `If he lays on spreads like this, he'll get the Royal Anchor

  quite a name. But I'm glad he's sent your share out here,' he addressed Haydn. 'I wanted to see you, and there's too much of a crowd in the buffet room to talk comfortably.'

  `Have you given our discussion some thought, then?' Haydn looked up, suddenly alert.

  `Quite a lot,' the owner of the boatyard replied. 'So far as we're concerned you'll make an ideal neighbour. I told you I didn't want to sell the yard to another boatbuilder.'