The house of my enemy

by Norrey Ford

  "All right. Don't bite my head off. I'm disappointed.

  Adam was my favourite for the Verity Bramhall Stakes and I thought I was on to a certain winner. I suppose now you'll go and marry that wretched Tom Cooper?"

  "What's the matter with Tom?"

  She moved her shoulders uneasily. "The whole match is too convenient. He's fallen in love in exactly the right place."

  "You mean his parents? He's terribly conscious of that and asked me to overlook it." She plucked a stalk and chewed it thoughtfully. "I do like him very much, Sally. I can't think of a single thing against him as a husband."

  "Then why on earth don't you have him, at once? Everyone would be delighted."

  "Except you? What would you be, Sally?"

  "Disgusted."

  Then the storm broke. Thunder and lightning cracked almost simultaneously. Sally grabbed Verity's hand and pulled her from under the tree. "Safer in the open," she gasped. "There'll be a downpour. Run!"

  The lightning cracked again. Laurie shouted and waved to them to run, but before they reached the shelter of the house, the rain started. They were drenched to the skin within seconds.

  "My dress is drip-dry," Sally giggled, with a note of hysteria. She looked down at the pool spreading about them on the kitchen floor.

  "You mean drip-wet." Verity kicked off her sodden shoes. "Jenny, what are you doing?"

  Jenny poked her head out of the deep broom-cupboard. "I can't stand storms. Hobo can't, neither. He let out a howl and streaked upstairs. I think he's under your bed, Mrs. Bramhall."

  "We'll go up and comfort him. I'll lend you a dress, Verity, and look out dry shirts for the men."

  *

  "I guess this finishes the dry spell," Laurie said over tea. "It doesn't matter as far as Springwater is concerned. Next year I'll mechanize as far as I can afford to, but I'll always be glad we did just one harvest the traditional way, by muscle and sweat. I doubt if a combine harvester will ever give such a sense of achievement as those yellow stacks."

  Sally said, "Dear Laurie!" in an adoring voice, and kissed his forehead by leaning over the back of his chair.

  Verity was at the window, drawn by the splendour of the storm. "It can't last much longer. It's slackening already."

  She followed the track of a raindrop on the window, with her finger, and felt a sad sweet nostalgia for the timeless days which, after a single hour, already seemed far away in the past. She felt like the Sleeping Beauty waking from her spell, from her happy dreams. Life, with its burdens and decisions, had to be taken up again.

  She shivered. Summer had gone on too long. Now they

  were all awake and the finger of autumn had touched them. "You're cold," said Sally. "Let me lend you a cardigan." Verity left the window. "The rain has stopped. It's time

  I went back to Nutmeg House."

  *

  When she arrived home, she was startled to see the doctor's car at the door. Aunt Fidget met her.

  "Don't worry, love. Your father had a funny turn, but he's all right now. I asked Dr. Foggin to have a look at him, but I daresay I'll get into trouble for it when he's gone."

  "What sort of turn? You're not hiding anything, are you?"

  Just then Dr. Foggin came downstairs smiling gently to himself. "Seventy-five per cent temper. Mrs. Fidget, the rest heart. Hello, Verity—he's not going to die yet awhile, child, so stop looking so tragic. His heart'll do fine for many a year yet, if he'll be content to run in a lower gear. The strike been troubling him?"

  "And how!" said Aunt Fidget succinctly.

  He nodded. "Gets worked up over the evening paper, eh? I do it myself. It all adds up. This business has been a gentle reminder to him that men and ships wear out eventually. I suggested a long lazy holiday."

  "What did he say to that?" Verity wanted to know.

  "Nothing fit for a young lady's ears. I've lectured him, but it's my experience that we all kill ourselves in our own way. I don't forbid anything to patients like Robert. It only challenges them to try and prove me wrong."

  Verity followed him to his car. "Is there any danger, Doctor?"

  "With care, none. The settlement of the strike will help." "Goodness, is it over? I left Springwater before the news."

  Aunt Fidget handed her the Echo. "It's in the stop press. Back to work in the morning. The men have got what they wanted—that's what made Robert so cross."

  Below the paragraph announcing the end of the strike was another. Earton man injured in dock café riot, it said.

  With a sick feeling at the pit of her stomach, she carried the newspaper away from Aunt Fidget's observant eyes. Spreading it flatly on the writing-table in her own room, she read and re-read the brief paragraph.

  A gang of youths had started to smash up Bert's Coffee Bar, after having been refused admission because of rowdyism. Bert's friends had come to the rescue, the gang had

  been beaten off. Mr. Adam Bramhall had been admitted to hospital.

  Adam was hurt. How badly hurt? Which hospital? Not to know was intolerable. She remembered all the unpleasant details she'd ever read about flick knives, bicycle chains, broken bottles, ugly weapons against which a clean fighter had no chance.

  Aunt Fidget poked her head in at the door. "Shall we telephone Laurie, dear? Not to alarm him, just to tell him the doctor's been?" Seeing Verity's agitated state, she came in and put her kind plump arms round the girl. "You mustn't worry so much, lovey. He's going to be all right."

  Sympathy was too much. Over wrought, Verity hid her face in her hands. Tears welled through the fingers.

  "Nay, love!" Her voice was deep and rich with sympathy. "Tell Auntie! It's not your father, is it?"

  Verity shook her head, without removing her hands from her face. "No. Perhaps a bit, but mostly it's because—oh, Auntie, I'm in love and I'm so unhappy."

  "That's an upside-down state of affairs. I knew you were in love, of course. I've watched you every day this last fortnight, off to Springwater with the light in your eye and your feet dancing. 'That girl's in love,' I said to myself, and she's meeting him at Springwater, whoever he is.' "

  Astonishment stopped Verity's tears. "You couldn't have known. I didn't know myself until a minute ago."

  "A girl in love is often the last to know. It fair shines out of you. Why are you upset? He's not married or anything?"

  `Not yet. But he's going to marry someone."

  Aunt Fidget considered that shrewdly, head on one side, her dark bright eyes alert. "Officially engaged?"

  "N-no. I don't think so."

  "Then all's fair in love and war, ,if you're not taking another girl's boy from her. You've a chance as long as there's nothing official. It evidently isn't Tom. Do I know him?"

  "Isn't love queer, Aunt? I've honestly tried to love Tom, and we're so well suited in every way. There are a thousand reasons why I should love Tom, and a thousand reasons

  why I shouldn't love—this other man. Yet in an emergency, in a moment of, perhaps, life and death, all that one builds up can be stripped away, and one sees bare truth."

  Emily Fidget's eyes were suddenly soft and luminous, the ageing face tender as a girl's. "That's true. In a moment of life and death you see clearly. Perhaps it's the only time in our lives we do see straight through all the paraphernalia to the shining heart of life. At that moment you can grasp what's important to you, and all the rest falls away."

  The girl whispered, "Do you know this, Auntie?"

  "I did my loving and losing before you were born. But if you've seen through to the bare bones of truth, and seen the man you want, I'm with you all the way. That's the vision you must stick to, no matter what happens."

  "I hope you mean that, because he's the last man in the world I ought to love. It's Adam Bramhall."

  Aunt Fidget paled till a little patch of rouge stood out on each cheek. "John Willie's youngest? Your father'll want to kill you for this."

  "Are you going to tell him?"

  "What do you think I
am, girl? I shan't go back on my wore. Besides, in your father's present state it might kill him. I warn you seriously; if you marry Adam it'll be the end between you and Robert Bramhall."

  'I shan't marry him. I told you—he's marrying Rosemary Brown."

  "Old Sam Brown's granddaughter? I knew her mother, never liked her. Spice importers they were—oh, I see! A business deal, eh? Is the boy's heart in it?"

  "It's not a thing one discusses."

  "It's rather important, though. I can't understand why you've only just discovered you love him. This heart trouble of Robert's isn't serious—yet. Not if he takes care—and he will. He'll grumble, but he'll take notice of Dr. Foggin."

  -Verity pushed the newspaper forward and pointed. Aunt Fidget read it. "It doesnt' say seriously hurt."

  "Those gangs use flick knives and, oh, horrible weapons. I can't ring his home and it doesn't say which hospital. Could I telephone the Echo offices? I must know."

  "Laurie will find out for you."

  "Why didn't I think of that? Oh—but I'll have to tell him about loving Adam."

  "That won't be necessary, my lamb." If there was a tremor of tender amusement in Aunt Fidget's voice, Verity did not notice. "Just say you want to know."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ROBERT was a difficult invalid. He stayed in bed three days, keeping Verity and his sister-in-law trotting up and down stairs all the time. His chauffeur ran a shuttle service between house and office. Miss Latimer, his secretary, established herself cosily in the library and maintained office routine imperturbably.

  "He's not relaxing at all, Miss Latimer," Aunt Fidget lamented. "Can't you do anything to stop him?"

  Miss Latimer was hatchet-thin and long-legged. She found the stairs no hardship, and her spiky heels clicked across the parquet all day.

  "So much is happening all at once, Mrs. Fidget, now that the strike is over. The pace will soon slow down."

  "Ah—but will he? So long as he's at the office at all, he'll go on like this. Holiday! Dr. Foggin ought to see his bed this minute. It's swamped in papers."

  Miss Latimer removed her up curved red spectacles and looked less catlike and more human. "Did the doctor recommend a holiday? In that case .. .!" She tapped her teeth with the folded spectacle frames, said H'mph! once or twice, then twinkled away upstairs with purpose in every line of her charcoal-suited back.

  Verity joined her aunt. "If she thinks she can make Daddy take a holiday, she's deceiving herself and the truth is not in her."

  "Anyone but Robert would be afraid not to, if she ordered it. All that high-powered efficiency! I'm glad you're not a career girl. What was Laurie's news?"

  "Adam had bruises and lacerations, which isn't very helpful. No bones broken anyway, and he wasn't detained in hospital, though two of the opposing side were. He's at home, which makes it more difficult for Laurie. He'd get a dusty answer if he enquired of Uncle John William direct."

  Her aunt chuckled. "So your young man put two of his opponents in hospital, eh? I like that."

  Miss Latimer tripped down again, gave them a distant smile as she whisked into the library.

  "Smug. That's the word I was trying to remember," said Aunt Fidget.

  Laurie telephoned the next morning. "Sally says you're to come out after lunch. Father mustn't keep you tied to his bedside."

  "He's at the office. Auntie's cross about it, but thankful to get rid of Miss Latimer. She was beginning to feel cowed. Is there any news of Adam?"

  He said cagily, "There may be, later in the day. I have my scouts out. Shall I tell Sally you're coming?"

  "I'll be there."

  * *

  Jenny met her at the door. "Mrs. Bramhall will be down in a minute, Miss Verity, and will you please go into the drawing-room." The girl's eyes were shining and Verity had a feeling she was barely suppressing a giggle. Is Jenny grown-up enough to have a boy-friend in the kitchen? she wondered. She seems remarkably anxious to steer me into the drawing-room.

  Adam was there.

  He rose as she entered, and for a moment that seemed endless they stared at each other, and everything about them was still and quiet as if the world had stopped.

  Verity said, "Adam!" in a breathless whisper.

  Then, though neither was aware of moving, they were together, and she was held closely to him, her bright tawny head on his shoulder. She was vividly conscious of the physical contact, the solid bone and flesh beneath the rough tweed coat, the iron hold of his arm, the warmth of his hand.

  He said in a voice which shook slightly, "I guess that just about tears it. You'd better kiss me, because I've waited too long already and can't wait another minute."

  His lips came down on hers and he kissed her till she was breathless and fighting to free herself. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed herself away.

  Angrily, she rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand. "How dare you kiss me like that?"

  "It seemed to be the only way of getting over the ridiculous barrier you've been so busily building up between us. Every time I thought I'd knocked a bit off the blasted thing, you built it up again. This time I thought I'd smashed it completely." His voice changed from anger to gentleness. "Don't you see, darling, that there mustn't be barriers? Especially not barriers in our minds. I love you—I've loved you since the minute you popped out from behind those bales, blinking like an adorable owl."

  "But—but there's Rosemary."

  "Why drag Rosemary into it? You've mentioned her before."

  `I'm told you're going to marry her."

  He scowled. "You shouldn't listen to gossip."

  "I don't. Rosemary told me herself."

  Dark, angry colour flared in his face. "You believed her?"

  "Why shouldn't I? Her grandfather is your chief business rival, I'm told. When he retires, you marry Rosemary and scoop the pool. It's an excellent match, and all so neat and tidy."

  He snorted indignantly, a perfect replica of his Uncle Robert.

  "Much the same as your own effort with Tom Cooper. He was mooning after you at the races in a way that sickened me."

  Verity couldn't imagine what was making her so cross when she was so happy to see Adam safe and sound, with no bones broken and not dreadfully scarred for life as she'd imagined him. Surely they could have discussed Rosemary quite coldly and sensibly without yelling at each other like a pair of fighting cats?

  `Tom doesn't moon," she shouted furiously. "I'm probably going to marry him."

  "One doesn't probably marry anyone."

  "He's asked me to, but I haven't decided yet. When I do, the answer will probably be yes. Does that satisfy you?"

  "It won't satisfy you. You don't love him "

  "How do you know?"

  "Because when one loves one is sure—wham!—like that."

  Speechless, she turned away from him. She gave a quick little nod.

  His hands big and gentle on her shoulders, he turned her towards him, tilted her chin till her eyes met his. "You mind about Rosemary? What you heard hurt you horribly, didn't it?"

  She swallowed a lump in her throat. "Yes." It was a mere thread of sound.

  "I mind about Tom. At the races I could have split him in two with the enormity of my jealousy. When I passed you, pretending not to know you, my fists were clenched in my pockets till the nails cut the flesh. I wanted to bash his face in."

  "Poor Tom. He'd done nothing."

  "He was walking with you; something I couldn't do. Don't you understand, honey-gold? If we both mind so dreadfully, it shows how much we love each other. If we didn't love, we simply wouldn't care. You could rampage around with Cooper, and I could—" Her jaw dropped, he stared at her blankly, as the implication of what he had said sank in. "Verity! You love me!" It was a yell of triumph.

  Furious, she grabbed his coat and shook him with all her strength. which was not inconsiderable. "You prize idiot, Adam Bramhall. Of course I love you."

  They clung together. She hid her face on his s
houlder. "You made me so cross."

  He dropped a kiss on her hair. "Is it true, or be there witches and wizards about?"

  "I've been so happy and miserable both at once. I didn't know what was the matter with me. Are you not killed? I nearly died when I couldn't find out what happened to you."

  "A scratch or two. I was taken to hospital only because I'd knocked myself silly on the edge of the counter and got

  swept up into the ambulance with the other rubbish. A few inches of sticking plaster put me right."

  She was certain that was not the whole story, but with the Bramhalls one had to wait. Some day, when he was in the mood, he'd tell her more. She sighed gustily. "Oh, Adam, what is going to happen to us?"

  "You're going to marry me. I don't promise to make you happy always, because that's a pipe dream. I may even make you miserable at times. I've a fiendish temper. I'm stubborn as an ox. But I'll have a darned good try at making you as happy as I can."

  "It's a very elegant proposal."

  "Proposal nothing! It's a simple statement of fact."

  Her face was vivid. "I'm no angel myself. I shall probably nag, and at times I sulk, but not for long. I'd rather be miserable with you than happy with anyone else. When we're together I feel—" she groped for the right word,—"complete. As if I'd found a missing bit of myself."

  He folded her into his arms again. "My adorable love!"

  After a satisfying few moments, she stirred. "But what about Rosemary?"

  "You're right. You do nag. Sit down and I'll explain. My father is ambitious for the business. He'd go to any lengths, I believe, to expand it. He's not as clever as his brother Robert, but his devouring ambition is the same. It goes beyond reason, in some ways, especially since my brothers were killed. It's his child, his life. So naturally he's cast covetous eyes on Brown's these many years. There aren't any sons, only Rosemary."

  "Is Mr. Brown equally ambitious?"

  "He's old and tired now. He knows Rosemary alone couldn't carry the thing on, so the two old devils hatched up a scheme by which their children marry and bring the two businesses into one. The idea has kept the old boys amused for years."