Peacock's Walk

by Jane Corrie

  'Just might be a storm in a teacup, as you might say,' said Dodie, 'but according to Rose, she was in a

  - rare taking when she came in earlier. She didn't come down to dinner, so I sent a tray up to her, but she wouldn't even open her door for Kathy to take it in. Kathy says she shouted at her to go away.' She looked at Jenny. 'Anyway, I thought I'd better tell you. Happen her uncle knows. She usually sits with him at dinner, doesn't she? and he's having dinner with Mr Chanter.

  Jenny smiled at her. 'Thanks for telling me, Dodie. I'll pop along to see her in a minute. She's probably got a headache or something. I'll take along -some aspirin, in case she needs them.' She glanced at her wrist watch. 'It's time you went,' she scolded her affectionately.

  'I'm just off,' replied Dodie comfortably. 'Happen she needs someone like you to talk to—you've been through it too, haven't you?' and on this shrewd observation she made her exit.

  So much for her glib explanation of what was wrong with Dilys, thought Jenny wryly. You couldn't pull the wool over Dodie's eyes, she'd as good as told her that by that last comment of hers. It would be the same with the rest of the staff, she thought. They would have had to be blind not to see that Dilys was in love with Mark, or that she

  haunted his every movement with a determination not far short of hounding.

  Although Jenny felt sorry for Dilys, she also felt exasperated. If she had only had just a little pride, she could have been saved a lot of embarrassment—not only her, but her uncle, too—and Mark, of course, for although Jenny suspected that the staff, the older ones anyway, were of the opinion that Mark had probably encouraged her. She knew this was not so, but it would be a waste of breath to actually say so.

  A few minutes later Jenny was knocking on Dilys's door. She couldn't really see what good she could do, but at least she would make an effort. If it were her, she would want to be left alone, and so it was with Dilys. `Dilys? It's Jenny. Can I come in?' she queried.

  `Go away!' answered Dilys in a strangled voice that held the thickness of tears in it. 'Leave me alone! You're the last person I want around. Haven't you done enough damage?' she accused Jenny, her voice rising to a pitch of hysteria.

  Jenny turned away after saying quietly, 'Very well, I'll leave you.' There was no point in staying after that, no point in arguing her case either, not behind a locked door, or against the prejudiced view Dilys held against her. Even if she opened the door to her there would still be an impregnable barrier between them.

  As Jenny made her way back to her quarters, she was not indignant or even hurt by Dilys's accusation, because she could understand Dilys's reason-

  ing. Being unable to accept the cold stark fact that Mark did not love her—and very possibly a few other bald facts, that had had to be aired—she had badly needed a scapegoat, and Jenny had been selected.

  It had been so much easier to blame someone else, she thought sadly, particularly if the truth hurt as much as she surmised it had hurt Dilys. There was but one consolation; Dilys would have to leave now. Even if she hadn't much pride where Mark was concerned, her uncle had, and Jenny was sure he would be arranging for their departure at the earliest possible date, probably the next day.

  CHAPTER SIX

  IN the early hours of the following morning, Jenny was shaken awake by a pair of very strong arms that seemed somehow familiar, and an urgent voice commanding her to snap out of the dream state.

  With a feeling of unreality she obeyed the summons, and as she jerked upright in her bed her wondering eyes blinked in confusion at Mark, now searching in her wardrobe for a wrap for her to wear, and finally finding one, had bundled her out of bed and was wrapping it round her. 'Fire,' he said curtly. 'First floor.'

  Jenny was now wide awake, and bent down to put her slippers on. The first floor was where most of the guests were boarded, and although there was always the risk of fire in such an establishment, she couldn't quite see how it had come about—but that could be looked into later. There were things to be done.

  'Fire Brigade?' she asked quickly as her foot slipped into the slipper she had been groping for.

  Mark nodded brusquely, 'All attended to,' and before she could do anything about it, she found herself picked up in his arms and carried to the door.

  Surprised, she attempted to struggle out of his

  grasp. 'I can walk,' she said indignantly, thinking 'what a fool she would look if the fire turned out to be a small blaze in someone's waste basket, and they appeared on the scene like this with all the guests looking on—not unmindful of Dilys's reaction. Put me down!' she repeated insistently, as Mark had shown no sign of having heard her first request and was now striding along the corridor.

  Only when they reached the foyer did he pause for a moment and look down at her feathery mules. 'In those?' he asked laconically, then nodded towards the stairs that led to the first floor where guests in different stages of array were making their way down the stairs, followed by plumes of smoke issuing from somewhere above.

  There was no panic, Jenny noted with approval, and she could hear Tony's voice giving instructions to a few laggardly guests to get a move on.

  'All personnel are being directed to wait on the front lawn,' said Mark, as he put Jenny down. 'I want you to stay near the reception desk, and make certain they follow instructions and not hang around in here. So far, the stairs are safe to use, but I don't know how much time we've got.'

  This short but concise message told Jenny the fire was a bad one, and although she knew the fire service would shortly be on hand, it was a case of urgency in getting everyone out in the shortest possible time. It was an old house, but the fire couldn't have started in a worse possible area, for the first floor consisted mainly of stout but very old oak

  panelling that would go up like a tinder box once the fire got a hold.

  As the startled and half-asleep guests appeared on the stairway, Jenny ticked their names off on a list she had procured from Rose's records. She would have missed a few, she knew, but at least the majority were still to come.

  The wail of the sirens in the distance was a welcome sound a short while later, and Jenny was able to relax a little. Her list had now been almost completed, but for Dilys and her uncle, and she presumed that Mark would have got Dilys out first, and, needless to say, her uncle too.

  It was odd, though, that when she had slipped out a few minutes ago to ascertain the names of the few that had been first out of the hotel, she had not seen Dilys or her uncle, but she had not been over-worried at the time since it was possible that Silas had been helping Mark and the staff in the evacuation plan. Dilys, in all probability, was still sulking and had not chosen to show herself when Jenny had sought her whereabouts.

  A second later Tony bounded down the stairs. `Have you seen Miss Hawter?' he asked Jenny.

  `No, and I didn't see her come down the stairs,' replied Jenny, now worried. 'I thought she might be outside,' and she dashed out again. This was no time to play games, she thought crossly as she approached the guests now milling around the main entrance from where she could see the staccato lights of the fire engines as they entered the driveway.

  Her second enquiry proved as unsuccessful as her

  first. No one had seen Miss Hawter, but someone remembered seeing Silas who had been, as Jenny suspected, giving a helping hand to Mark in keeping the blaze under control.

  On re-entering the hotel, she smelt the acrid fumes that were now filling the foyer and coughed as they reached her throat. With eyes that smarted she met Tony's smoke grimed ones and shook her head. The next minute Tony was on his way back up the stairs, followed closely by Jenny. Dilys was still up there, there was no other answer.

  Pausing a second to bind a handkerchief round his lower face, Tony became aware of Jenny behind him and about to overtake him. 'Not you,' he said, pulling her back. 'You do as you were told. Go and join the others on the lawn. In any case,' he muttered as he turned to continue up the stairs, 'Chanter was looking after this
side, the fire started somewhere between the bathroom and the end landing. If she's still up there, he must know by now.'

  A ghastly thought went through Jenny's mind just then, for she was suddenly certain that Dilys was still there. Perhaps refusing to move? Waiting perhaps for Mark to rescue her, and not budging until he came? Jenny closed her eyes—she would! She had been an extremely unhappy girl, hadn't she? Dumbly she shook her head—she wouldn't go that far, surely? If she had, it could cost her not only her life, but Mark's too.

  Jenny felt sick as another unpalatable thought hit her. Dilys might even have started the fire! There had been such strict precautions taken against

  the risk of fire, and she just couldn't see how it had got such a hold in such a short time without some assistance.

  With thoughts such as these in her mind, Jenny ignored the orders she had been given and rushed up the stairs, coughing again as the thick swirling smoke penetrated her lungs as she neared the top of the stairs.

  Dilys had been given the third room on the left, she remembered, as she made her way down the corridor, now hardly able to see in front of her for the density of the smoke that got into her eyes and dimmed her sight.

  With her eyes narrowed in an effort to peer through the thick screen in front of her, she saw with horror that the flames were just the other side of the room that she sought. The heat was now intense, and it seemed a matter of minutes before they would be licking at the door in front of Mark and Silas. Tony stood a little way back, but ready to give assistance when needed.

  `Open the door, Dilys ! ' commanded Mark, whose voice was slightly muffled owing to the handkerchief he had placed, as Tony had, over the lower half of his face. Silas added his entreaty in a voice that showed that he had reached desperation point, although he made an effort to control it. 'Come on, now girl, be sensible. Unlock the door ! '

  `For heaven's sake, this is no time to act the fool!' Mark shouted at the still closed door.

  As Jenny edged nearer to them, having some vague notion of adding her pleas to theirs, she heard

  the dull thuds of the actions of the firemen below, as they took charge of the situation, but even so, she doubted if they would be in time to rescue Dilys, a rescue made doubly hard by the refusal of the girl to participate.

  `Answer me; Dilys. Are you all right?' Mark shouted, now sounding as desperate as Silas.

  This time there was an answer, and Jenny plainly heard it. 'Go away ! It's my life, and I can do what I want with it. I don't care any more!' The voice was bordering on hysteria, and Jenny felt a cold feeling play along her spine. Dilys was frightened, that much was evident, it was also evident that she would not give way, not until it was too late to do anything about it. Jenny shivered as a feeling of utter helplessness swept over her. What a stupid, wicked waste, for what? Simply because Dilys had failed to achieve her heart's desire.

  Jenny's feelings were echoed by the desperate lunge the three men now made at the door, but it held firm. It was made of oak and would need a battering ram or a stout fireman's axe to break it down—if there were time for such implements to be brought into use.

  As if in a dream she heard Mark's voice say very distinctly, 'Singed hair will look terrible under a wedding veil.'

  Not only Jenny but the three men, it seemed, held their breath after this almost matter-of-fact statement, and although it could not have been much more than a second before the door was unlocked, it seemed a lifetime to Jenny before Dilys threw her-

  self hysterically at Mark. 'You mean it—don't you? Say you mean it!' She waved the key in the air as she moved back towards the doorway. 'If you don't, I'm going right back in ! ' she warned him hysterically.

  Mark's deep voice came back to Jenny as she stood in the corridor that was now being drenched with water from the firemen's hoses, but she was unheeding of the swirling water that drenched her feet, all her being was centred on Mark's inexorable answer, 'I mean it.'

  The rest of that day had the same nightmarish quality about it as the early hours of the morning had had for Jenny, and for Mark, too, she noticed, as he seemed to cut himself of from all personal contact with either her or Dilys.

  As far as business was concerned, he carried out his duties with the same commanding touch. Other accommodation had to be found for the guests, and having another hotel in the vicinity this was no problem for him. It was just a case of picking up a telephone and making the necessary arrangements.

  When Dilys had made an appearance in the office, ostensibly seeking Mark's approval for a draft of the engagement announcement she had wanted inserted in The Times, she received a cold reception. 'I would prefer not to advertise the event,' he had said bluntly, leaving her in no doubt of his feelings on the matter, and Jenny had wished she could somehow become invisible, it was so embarrassing.

  It was all the more embarrassing because Dilys appeared to have no idea of the enormity of her

  crime—and it was a crime. It was nothing short of blackmail, and it could have cost several lives, but whatever rules of propriety she had acted under they did not come under the heading of Queensberry Rules.

  Love, of course, could excuse many failings, one was lucky if one went through the course of life without making some foolish action that might be excused where matters of the heart were concerned. Even so, Jenny found it hard to exonerate Dilys on those grounds, and where she might otherwise have felt sorry for her at the way Mark treated her, she was in full agreement with his handling of the situation.

  Sooner or later Dilys must get the message of the lesson Mark was giving her, because it was a lesson, Jenny had no doubt of this, or that he intended to stand by his word and marry her, but the marriage would be in name only, until such time as he deemed otherwise.

  Jenny could not have explained why she was so certain of this. She only knew it would be so, quite apart from the fact that Mark was not a man to be coerced into anything contrary to his nature, and forgiving did not come easy to him, as Jenny had good cause to know.

  It would not take long for Dilys to realise that she might have gained a husband, but she had lost a friend. There would be no more teasing comments or smiles of indulgence such as she had received from Mark in all the years she had known him. To suddenly find herself out in the cold after being

  treated as Mark had himself said as, 'one of the family', would be a hurtful experience for her, and having experienced it herself, Jenny could well understand the effect it would eventually have on Dilys, who had been as coddled and watched over as Jenny had all through her life.

  As far as the 'out in the cold' treatment was concerned, Jenny came in for her share too. It wasn't so much as what was said as the way he seemed to delegate all responsibility for what had happened to her account. Which was grossly unfair, she felt, since none of it would-have happened if he hadn't put in a bid for Peacock's Walk—or tried to use her as a cover against Dilys's determined pursuit of a hopeless dream that would give her no happiness even though she had now attained it.

  It was a kind of silent rebuke that lay heavily in the atmosphere between them in the office, and Jenny longed to shout out that it was none of her doing, and would he please stop blaming her, but as nothing was said, she was forced to hold her peace. It was a miserable situation all round. The only consolation, if it could be called a consolation, was that there was so much to do in the clearing-up process. Claims to be made out, and rebuilding on the first floor a priority, although it would not have surprised Jenny if Mark had decided against using the house as a hotel in the future, but to all intents and purposes it seemed he would, since he had given instructions for the work to be carried out at the earliest possible opportunity.

  At least Jenny was saved the embarrassment of

  having to probe into the cause of the fire, particularly as she suspected Dilys had somehow had a hand in it. That was up to Mark now, and she was in no position to satisfy her curiosity, even if she had wanted to. As it was, she felt the least said th
e soonest mended—if anything could be mended now, she thought miserably.

  Mark's silent accusations had awakened her conscience over the letter Malcolm had left her, and try as she did, she couldn't dismiss a feeling of guilt that she had not shown it to Mark. That he proposed again to her had given her much cause for concern. There was just a chance that Silas Hawter had been right in that she had hurt Mark, and that he still loved her. Her breath caught in her throat when she recalled the way he had swept into her room and carried her out to safety on the night of the fire. Even though her rooms were on the ground floor, and she was not in any real danger at that time—but she had been his first thought ... Her eyes were bright with tears as she acknowledged the truth.

  He loved her, and she loved him, and what a time to make such a discovery I Hard on this sombre thought came the realisation of Mark's feelings when he learnt of the contents of Malcolm's letter. She swallowed convulsively; he mustn't ever know of its existence! Of how all the bitterness and loneliness could have been avoided—of the months they had spent apart—of the tears she had shed, and her failure to understand or believe in his love for her—that part would be the most hurtful, she knew.

  She also knew why she had never destroyed the

  letter. She had never been able to admit to herself before that one day she would show it to him. All along she had kept that dream alive deep in the recesses of her mind, but she hadn't fooled Tony or Dodie when she had announced herself heart-free. It seemed they knew her a little better than she had known herself.

  The staff's shocked reaction to the fire, those who lived out, that was, and arrived to find the remains of a charred first floor and all the resultant chaos—even if it was organised chaos—was almost numbed by another shock before the day was out. In spite of Mark's disobliging manner towards making an announcement of the engagement, Dilys refused to be discouraged, and took every opportunity of referring to Mark as 'my fiance'—in his absence, of course, for Jenny doubted whether she would have been quite so bold in his presence, particularly after the cold reception he had afforded her that morning.