The house of my enemy

by Norrey Ford

  "My conscience troubles me that I didn't do so before. But the days at sea drift by and I didn't want to upset things "

  "Upset?"

  She met his eyes steadily. His face changed, and she knew he had read her answer in her eyes.

  "I guessed as much," he said quietly. "It's somebody else, isn't it?"

  She'd grown to like him so much, these quiet days and warm evenings at sea! She said gently, "I'm sorry. I almost wish it had been you. But I love another man, Tom—I love him with all of me that matters, and he loves me the same way. We haven't had much time together and we quarrel nearly every time we meet. There are moments when I don't even like him."

  "What sort of love is that?"

  Her eyes were on the horizon. "Trouble and tears to come. I can see it all so plainly. One can't have the mountain tops without the valleys. We shall make each other unhappy often, but loving him is the glory of my life."

  To speak of her love transformed her. The lovely mobile face was illumined from within, as if a lamp shone steadily behind her eyes. He knew he had lost her completely. She was as far from him as a woman living in the moon.

  "I think I guessed, from the beginning of this voyage. That's why I didn't ask you for an answer until to-day. I've been drifting, or burying my head in the sand, not wanting to hear the truth."

  "Have I made you terribly unhappy?"

  "I can't say. It hasn't begun to hurt yet. I think I'm numb for the moment. But whatever happens, my dear, don't feel sad about me. I can learn to live with it. But I'm none too happy about this love of yours, and if ever any time you need me—need my help, I'll be around to give it. Is that understood?"

  "I hope you mean it, Tom. I have a nasty feeling I might take you up on the offer."

  Her bare arm hung by her side, almost touching the deck: He lifted her hand and kissed the slim brown wrist. "I mean it. You have only to ask. May I be told who it is, or is it a secret?"

  "Only from Daddy, for a few more weeks. He wanted me to tell at once, but I insisted Daddy should have this holiday first—he needed it so much. It's my cousin Adam."

  He whistled. "You couldn't have chosen worse."

  ,

  "We didn't choose to love each other. Love chose us. It was like an arrow piercing us both to the heart. Cupid isn't a fat lovable little boy. He's a man, hard and strong. He has a diabolical sense of humour, and his arrows hurt, Tom. They hurt beyond telling."

  He said grimly, "I know."

  Adam's letter was enclosed with Sally's. She was acutely conscious of its stiff, crackling outline in her big patch pocket as she sat by Robert, dutifully going through his enormous post with him.

  "Has Laurie told you the big news, Daddy? About the baby?"

  "What's that to me? He'll be a farmer. I want a man to carry on my name and my business."

  "No you don't. You can be a limited company or something. Don't pretend you're not delighted about your grandchild."

  "What's one?" he grumbled pleasantly. "A man ought to have a quiverful of grandchildren. Isn't it about time you and Tom announced an engagement?"

  "You're side-tracking, because you're too obstinate to say you're thrilled about Sally's baby. Shall I read you her letter?"

  "For pity's sake, no. Run away, I've a heap of stuff here from the office."

  She hurried to her cabin, excitement choking her. The first letter Adam had ever written to her, the first real love-letter she'd ever had!

  He began in a storm of jealousy, hurling reproaches on the paper so violently that his writing became a scrawl. How could she go straight from his arms to Tom Cooper? Why had she been so secretive? Why didn't she trust him?

  She quivered with rage. Why, the hypocrite! It was he who didn't trust!

  Abruptly, reproaches ended, as if he had written the jealousy out of his system. He poured out his love, his delight in her, plans for their future.

  She smoothed out the first page she'd crumpled in temper. Oh, Adam, beloved of my heart, must it always be like this? Perhaps it was the penalty of their love that they could rouse each other to a peak of fury almost beyond control.

  She had to get home to Adam soon. This separation was bad for both of them.

  She went to look for Tom. "I need your help," she told him directly. "I must fly home with you. Adam needs me, and I need Adam. Daddy's all right now. His health is better and he's made a lot of friends. I must have an excuse for going. Tom, help me to think."

  "Unscrupulous female! Do you want me to help my rival?"

  She smiled up at him so enchantingly that he knew he'd do anything she asked. To-day she looked lovelier than ever, the peach-bloom skin softly tanned, her wide-set honest eyes, the warm mouth, the slim brown legs below her white shorts.

  "Witch! I'll do it if I swing for it. You'll have to be Miss New Year at the Merchants' Ball. I'll cable the secretary at once."

  `I won't take Rosemary's place, that would be cruel." "I've told you—she won't know. It's a secret until a few days before."

  "Well—if you're absolutely sure . . .?"

  "Leave it to me."

  "Tom, you really are a darling."

  He grinned ruefully. "I wish you thought so, Tawny-top."

  On Christmas Day Robert gave her pearls and grumbled about eating hot turkey in blazing sunshine. "Giving me the go-by, eh? I shall miss you, but I see through it all, young puss. This Miss New Year idea is a put-up job. You can't bear to be away from him, can you?" He chuckled and rubbed his hands together.

  Blankly, she said, "But—but how did you know?"

  "I'm not such an old fool I can't see when a girl is in love. There's an innocent bloom on you, like the sheen on

  a pearl. I remember my Elfrida at the same age. She was a beauty, and as sweet and good as she looked. Just like you."

  "Don't put me on a pedestal, Daddy. I'm not good. I'm selfish, ungrateful, putting my own wishes first, instead of considering you. I won't go with Tom after all."

  "Bosh! Every pair of young lovers wants to be alone. Frankly, I'm delighted with the success of my little plot. When you told me you didn't know Tom well enough to marry him, I knew I could fix it. Now, it seems, you can't bear to be separated. I was certain it would work out."

  "But it isn't . . .! I mean, it hasn't " For a perilous moment she balanced on the edge of confession. Then she remembered the secret was not hers alone. When she and Adam confessed, they'd have to do it simultanously. Besides, Robert would never pay her air passage back to England if he knew she was going to meet Adam.

  "Please, Daddy, don't get any false ideas. This isn't an engagement party or anything." If he started dropping heavy hints that she and Tom were in love, the whole business would get too complicated.

  He patted her cheek and padded away chuckling. She gazed after him suspiciously. Would he or wouldn't he keep his own counsel? Would he go to Eleanor Cooper and boast of his success? He enormously enjoyed pulling off a clever scheme.

  She stamped her foot angrily. Bother you, Adam Bramhall! Why did I have to fall in love with you, when it would have been so much easier and tidier to love Tom?

  She flung back her head to watch an aeroplane, a shining silver speck in an arch of limitless blue. Bother you, my darling—the great trouble to me you are! But I am coming—I'm practically on my way.

  *

  Verity wore the sunset-coloured dress she'd worn for Adam in London; not because she wanted to, but because her cherry velvet and her black both looked wrong with her suntan, and her golden bridesmaid's dress was at this

  moment in the committee-room behind the platform at the Town Hall, with the tinsel crown and wide gold satin sash she'd wear at midnight in the tableau.

  The hours since she and Tom landed in England had been hectic. She had not announced her coming, out of a sort of superstitious fear of tempting Providence. Aunt Fidget had been in a flutter of excitement, and there'd been a quick rehearsal, a flying visit to the hairdresser, a call to Sally and Laurie.

>   Discussing Sally's baby took time. At long last Verity was able to get a word in. "How is Adam?"

  "We haven't seen him for ages. His father has been ill, but I believe he's improving now. He'll have a marvellous surprise when he knows you're here. Come out here first thing in the morning, and somehow Laurie will let Adam know."

  So now she had only to go through with the dance, the tableau, and in the morning she would drive to Springwater and Adam would come.

  She was dancing with Tom. "Scared?" he murmured.

  "A little. So many people. How convincing the book looks from here. No one would guess it's made of laths and painted canvas. It's an awfully tight squeeze to get into it."

  The organizers had built an enormous golden book on the stage. It bore the new year's date in glittering tinsel on the cover, and until midnight it would remain closed. Then Father Time would step on to the stage, with long beard and property scythe, and open the book to reveal Miss New Year inside. A member of the dramatic society would recite a poem, the choir would sing.

  In the powder room, Verity was a centre of excited feminine chatter. "What a gorgeous tan! We thought you were abroad for another month at least."

  Rosemary Brown was at the edge of the little crowd gathered round Verity.

  "You're out of date, girls," she drawled lazily. "Haven't you read your Eariton Echo to-night?"

  Beth Sanders groaned. "That rag! I never bother, and anyway the parents hog it all evening. Is there anything special?"

  "Only this." Rosemary took a cutting from her evening bag, and passed it round.

  Beth read aloud, "Earlton Couple's Romantic Flight! A little bird whispered to me that a certain air-liner flew into Earlton airport on Cupid's wings—honestly, doesn't the style make you sick! So if a certain engagement isn't announced this evening at the Merchants' Ball, and so forth.

  Verity, you dark horse! You and Tom—congratulations!" Verity snatched the scrap of paper. "Where did you get this?"

  Rosemary shrugged. "To-night's paper—the gossip column."

  "But it simply isn't true. Tom and I are not going to announce any engagement. They've no right to print this."

  "Where there's smoke there's fire. Someone must have tipped them off. It's true you and Tom have been cruising together, isn't it? And you flew home together?"

  "Yes, but—"

  "And Tom is Chairman and he's nominated you for Miss New Year?"

  There was an excited flurry of chatter. "Is it you, really, Verity?" "No one's supposed to know."

  That's a secret," Verity said coolly, but with heightened colour. "Not a well kept one, apparently."

  "I have good reason for knowing," said Rosemary with a fixed stare.

  Verity felt a pang of regret for the other girl's disappointment. It was all too obvious that someone had talked indiscreetly. Her real worry, however, was the gossipy paragraph in the .Echo. She was certain her father was responsible for that, one of his ways of forcing her hand. He could never resist crowing over a triumph. She regretted bitterly that she had not told him of his utter mistake before leaving him. But if I had, she remembered, I wouldn't be here now.

  What was Adam going to think when he saw that paragraph? If only he were not so jealous, so apt to fly off the handle!

  When she returned to Tom, he said at once, "What's happened? You're worried."

  "There's a paragraph in to-night's Echo hinting at our engagement. I'm sure Daddy's responsible."

  "Then they'll have to eat their words, won't they?"

  "That isn't everything. I'm certain Rosemary knows I ousted her from the New Year tableau. She minds terribly. I don't know why she should—it isn't really any fun squashed into that little coop up there. Tell her she can do it, Tom. No one knows, so it wouldn't be too late to switch."

  "Not a bit of it. If some fool has opened his mouth too wide he must stand the racket of her disappointment. That will teach him to be more discreet. Knowing Rosemary, I'd say she's jealous of the fur coat."

  "What fur coat?"

  "You don't think we let you do our New Year without thanking you? There's always a handsome gift attached, my innocent lamb. This year it's a fur coat."

  "I can't accept it."

  "Why not? You needn't worry. Being merchants," he grinned impishly, "we get it wholesale. Forgive the sordid commercial outlook, but I assure you it goes down in our income tax returns as advertisement."

  "I mean I can't take it from Rosemary."

  "She never had it."

  She shivered. "I saw her eyes. She hates me like poison, she'd do me an injury if she could. Do you think she knows about Adam and me? We've been very discreet."

  He whistled. "Good lor! I'd overlooked that! If you and Adam are in love, that blows the Adam-Rosemary marriage sky-high!"

  For some reason she could not fathom, the idea pleased him.

  The floor became more and more crowded; as the clock moved towards midnight, the excitement mounted, the dances became more and more of a frolic, everybody

  yelled the choruses of the music. By the time Verity left the dance floor to change into her tableau dress, the vast Town Hall was thronged. She had difficulty in threading her way through the crowds towards the changing rooms behind the stage.

  Tom squeezed her hand. "Good luck, New Year! I'm going to find a place right at the front, where I can see you." He brushed a light kiss across her forehead—brief, meaningless, part of the sentimental minute-to-midnight foolishness of New Year's Eve.

  "Butterflies in the tummy," she whispered. "Goodbye, see you next year." She gave him a friendly wave and turned to leave the hall through plate-glass double doors leading to a corridor.

  Adam was outside, in the corridor. He had a hand on the door-handle, ready to open it.

  Her heart leapt. "Darling! How wonderful! I'd no idea you were here!"

  "Apparently not!" His tone was bitter. "I'd no idea you were in England. I suppose you thought it wasn't worth telling me. When I read about your engagement in the Echo I couldn't believe it. I came to assure myself that it wasn't so, that you weren't here and that the Echo had boobed again. The first thing I see is a very touching kiss between you and your fiancé."

  "I'm not engaged. The Echo is absolutely wrong, they'd no business to publish such a rumour."

  "Not absolutely wrong, Verity. You did fly half across the world with Tom, you did spend several weeks cruising with him and his mother. The whole thing hangs together so beautifully. Tom Cooper is a better match for Miss Verity Bramhall. Her father apporves, she'll have all the pretty clothes she wants."

  "I hate you when you're sarcastic. My only reason for flying home was to be with you."

  "Do you seriously expect me to believe that?"

  Tears of exasperation blinded her. "How can you be so cold and hard? Aren't you a little bit pleased to see me?"

  His face lit, a flash of lightning in a dark sky. "I've dreamed of nothing but you coming home. I didn't dream

  it would be like this. I might have guessed. Your father has had several weeks to work on you, hasn't he? And Tom had all the advantages."

  "Adam, please, please believe I love you and no one else."

  "You say that when you're with me. But when we're apart . . ."

  "Miss Bramhall, please come at once." The producer of the tableau, pale with nerves, grabbed her arm. "We're practically on and you're not changed!"

  He pulled her away. Adam was lost in the crowd.

  Miss New Year wore a broad golden sash from shoulder to hip, with the date in white satin appliqué; the producer adjusted the glittering crown and laid a sheaf of mimosa and daffodils in Verity's arms. He helped her climb into the wood and canvas frame. Father Time gave her a thumbs-up sign before fixing on his long beard.

  "I'll have to fasten you in," the nervous producer whispered, "otherwise the door might swing open too soon. We'll release you at the first possible moment. Comfy?"

  "More or less. What if I sneeze?"

  "My
dear lady, you simply mustn't sneeze, there isn't room."

  The hall lights dimmed. A fanfare of trumpets blared. Father Time opened the canvas book cautiously, the spotlights played on Verity. She stood tall, proud and still, remembering to smile, as the trumpets fell silent and everyone seemed to hold breath, waiting for the passing of the Old Year.

  Faces leapt at her from the darkness beyond the dazzle. Tom smiling; Rosemary Brown, petulant, almost evil in the peculiar light. And Adam's face, staring, white and angry.

  The choir sang. Verity's neck ached with the effort of holding her head so high under the crown; the cramped quarters irked her; her lips ached with smiling when her heart was so dismayed.

  Tom, as chairman, came up the steps and laid a fur coat at her feet. There were other gifts, elegantly gift-wrapped and mysterious, but the coat shimmered richly under the lights.

  Then the sirens started and everybody was singing Auld Lang Syne and throwing paper streamers at the tableau. The coloured streamers looped over the light canvas frame till it was obscured in a gay criss-cross of colour.

  It was almost over. Father Time and the choir melted away somewhere in the background. Verity was alone on the stage waiting for the noise to die down enough for her to wish them a happy new year and throw her bouquet into the crowd, like a bride. The din was deafening.

  A tiny point of light caught her eye, a pinpoint like the flame of a cigarette lighter. Then there was a blinding flash of flame and a pandemonium of shrieks and shouting.

  Fire licked up at the streamers, caught at the inflammable wrappings. Verity was helpless, fastened into her flimsy cage of dry wood and paint-soaked canvas. A sort of moan went up from the dancers who watched as the men fought the fire with feet and coats.

  There were hands tearing her prison apart; a smoke-blackened face close to hers. Then she was lifted in strong arms and swung to safety. She knew it was Adam; knew it by the touch of his hands, the reassuring strength of his voice. She lay against his breast shivering violently, her teeth chattering. His hand gentled her hair.

  "It's over, darling—you're safe. Nothing to worry about."