Moments of Time

by Gloria Cook

  He had stared at her only two minutes ago, when Winifred had asked her how she’d managed to keep her slim figure, while lamenting over the few extra pounds she had put on in all the unflattering places. Emilia had no unflattering places on her body nor was she ever likely to. Everything about her was in perfect proportion. She hadn’t favoured yet the short fashionable hairstyles. How cunning of her to know men usually preferred a wealth of beautiful hair. Cunning and desirable, damn her.

  Hell and damnation! Why did he keep putting her on a pedestal of physical beauty? Why did he still feel attached to her? Why did he still enjoy the relish when he considered he had some riveting secret he thought she would like to know? She had no idea he had been hoping to take another woman in the same bed in Ford House where he had made love to her, their first and only time together.

  Get out of my head, Emilia! I have designs on Selina Bosweld now. She’s more fascinating than you.

  No, she wasn’t. Her feet are big and she moves her hands in a mannish way and she was messing with him. All over him one day, brushing him off the next. A quickly bored sort.

  He was smarting over her treatment of him at the lunch in Ford House. He might as well have been the rector, the distance she had kept from him. If Perry hadn’t kept up a lively conversation, he could easily have fallen asleep from boredom himself.

  Damn you, Emilia! You were perfect for me all that time ago. Only you didn’t love me enough to stay loyal.

  He was still spying on her, and as always when their eyes met, they clashed. She lifted her chin a little and made to stare him out. Damn it, would he never get the better of her? And she was so besotted with Alec she wouldn’t care if he bedded Selina Bosweld and every other woman in Hennaford. Except for Sara. Now that was an interesting thought. No, it wasn’t, he couldn’t be bothered. The girl could stay clinging on to her virginity.

  He needed a smoke. Couldn’t indulge this close to the baby, so he excused himself, taking a fresh bottle of champagne with him. Tottering down the seven stone steps from the terrace, he shunned the paved path in preference for the lawn and headed towards the fence that was set well back from the edge of the fifty-foot cliff.

  ‘Poor Ben doesn’t know what to do with himself.’ Winifred thought it a shame he had not found the right woman for himself yet.

  ‘Stupid young fool,’ Alec shook his head as he watched his youngest brother spill some of the precious drink. ‘Should find himself something worthwhile to do.’ Both he and Ben had a surfeit of workers now, with the downfall of the national economy and with so many unfortunate ex-servicemen desperately seeking employment. It meant they were both true gentlemen farmers and could please themselves when and if they worked on their land. They both pitched in manually nearly every day, both knew every mark on every beast in their herds, but while he spent time nurturing his family and calling on his tenants, Ben wasted too much time on dubious pleasures.

  ‘No rancour on my wedding day, please,’ Tristan chided light-heartedly, coming to sit at Emilia’s side. ‘Tell your husband to relinquish Jenna for once. I haven’t had the chance to hold the baby yet.’

  ‘Might be doing this for yourself next year,’ Alec winked while passing his daughter across to him. Emilia was pleased that Jenna was staying awake and active for an unprecedented length of time today. She made sure Tristan’s grip on her was secure.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ Tristan laughed, glancing at Winifred. ‘More children are hardly on our agenda, are they, my dear?’

  Winifred blushed. She and Tristan had only spoken about their marriage in terms of security for them both and Vera Rose and Jonny. ‘Mind your own business, Alec.’

  ‘You’re looking good, Tris,’ Emilia changed the subject to take the heat out of Winifred’s embarrassment. The bride had confided in her that she was dreading the wedding night. ‘It would feel strange sharing a bed with any man again after seven years of widowhood, but it’s even harder to think of Tris in that way. Emilia, I hope we’ve not made a huge mistake.’

  ‘Winnie, it’s Tris we’re talking about here, remember?’ Emilia had said. ‘He’s the kindest and most sensitive of men. Just give a little time for you and he to get to know each other in a different way, and for him and Jonny to bond again. It will happen. Trust me.’ Looking at Winifred now, she could see her advice was unheeded.

  ‘Now I’ve shaved off the ’tache, you mean?’ Tristan wriggled his top lip. ‘No one liked it, and there was me thinking it gave me a certain something.’ He cooed to Jenna. ‘Oh well, you’ll grow up loving your uncle whatever I look like, won’t you, poppet? She’s gorgeous. There’s something special about little girls, isn’t there? Mmmmm, perhaps a little sister for Jonny and Vera Rose would be nice.’

  ‘Are you sure about that, Tris? You wouldn’t go anywhere near Polly Hetherton’s little adopted girl at Jenna’s party, and Louisa’s a sweet thing.’ Winifred had meant it as a joke, but her husband’s sudden extraordinary dark expression told her she had made a mistake. And both Emilia and Alec were looking away. ‘What have I said?’

  ‘I’ll tell you sometime,’ Tristan replied, hiding his face behind Jenna’s soft body.

  Ben glanced back at his brothers and their wives. He couldn’t stand the sight of so much matrimonial cosiness. They looked middle-aged and smug in companionship already. Alec was preparing to take another round of boring photographs.

  He stabbed a cigar between his lips, lit it and inhaled a deep, lung-clogging puff. When he took the next long draught of champagne, the rim of the bottle clanked against his teeth. He set off to get away from everyone. Trying to make a steady passage to show his self-satisfied eldest brother that he was in fact in control of himself, he ploughed along the length of the fence and carried on until there was a sizeable distance between himself and Roskerne.

  He plunged on over the spongy grass of the clifftop, swingeing through spatterings of short-stemmed primroses, allowing heather and prickly golden gorse to snatch at his trousers. He lobbed the butt of the cigar over the cliff edge. Gulping with care out of the champagne bottle, so as not to lose any of the sweet nectar, he was hoping to finish off the last pockets of soberness.

  When he reached his intended spot, a dip in the clifftop which offered shelter and privacy, he flung himself down, leaning his back against the bank of coarse pale-green and straw-coloured grasses and wild plants. Lots of plants here – a botanist’s dream – none of which were doing his suit any good. This was a place he had relaxed in on school holidays, eaten picnics after playing rowdy games with some local brats whose parents worked a little further downcoast at the Watergate Bay Hotel – there had been no children his age living at Roskerne then. Well, Jonny had taken over the crown of gang leader; he was hero-worshipped. And Alec, damn him, had taken over Emilia. Damn her.

  He may have no longer wanted her for himself after their bitter quarrel over his running away at the news of her brother’s death, but Alec should have allowed time to see if they’d make things up. Alec, the sly, underhanded lover-in-waiting. He had wanted a hard-working, tough-minded, loyal brood mare for his next wife instead of risking another upper-middle-class, tormenting bitch. And Alec had then had the cheek to accuse him of treachery over Tremore! He’d only taken what was rightly his, his inheritance. So what if he’d reworded a couple of documents so he could get his five thousand pounds before he was twenty-one? Alec shouldn’t have been so bloody damned superior in allowing him only five hundred. And what had Alec wanted Tremore for anyway? He’d already had a lot of property in the parish. He wanted to own everything, have everyone.

  He emptied the champagne bottle and let it fall from his hand, then cursed loudly and heartily because he needed another cigar but his pocket was empty.

  He saw the sky, high and free and blamelessly blue. The clouds looked as if God had daubed the celestial canvas with white and swirled it here and there with a blithe fingertip. A sparrowhawk zipped into sight, close overhead. Ben leaned up on his
elbows and watched the bird of prey, a male by its grey colouring and barred breast and underparts, swoop to near ground level, hunting along the long expanse of shrubbery, bramble and gorse that topped the bank. A sudden pounce, a sharp shriek, and it was off and away with its reward of a young rabbit. Ben wished he could do that. Yearn, ensnare and fly away in triumph. So far all he had done with his life was to build up a run-down farm, renovate and extend an old house, raise the yields in a few fields to Ministry satisfaction and buy in healthy stock. Some might find that fulfilling. Not him. Not with his brother always having more.

  He saw the sea, the great and terrible Atlantic Ocean, reaching out in indigo and emerald green, shimmering with white crests, going on and on in an everlasting expedition, leaving the shore to go far, far away, proceeding unendingly with its ambition and purpose. That’s what he should be doing. His horizons ended in 186 acres within the boundaries of an insignificant rural parish.

  But what did he really want? Not Polly Hetherton, his regular bed partner, not any more. She was fair in every way, witty and creative, but although she wasn’t seeking an end of her war-widowhood by marriage to him, she did see him as exclusively hers. She had monopolized him throughout the party held for Jenna, talking as if he was substitute father to Louisa, and not Julian, her brother. Louisa was a lovely, even-tempered child and he adored her, but he didn’t want to feel suffocated by her existence. Trouble was, he and Polly had grown so used to each other they weren’t far removed from the homely pair of couples he had not long forsaken.

  He lay back and shut his eyes, not wanting to witness nature and its glories of promise and freedom any more. Tomorrow he would go home and then what?

  A face of incredible vitality and mystery came into his mind. And a pair of dazzling, piercing violet eyes; so intense was the vision it was almost as if those eyes were looking at him now. Selina Bosweld was the most amazing woman he’d ever known. No, she wasn’t. It was all a façade. She was playing some sort of game with him and he was in no mood for the challenge. He wished he hadn’t invited her to his house. But let her come. Let her play her next hand and discover a surprise. He was not going to let himself be made a fool of.

  He was smiling to himself when he drifted into sleep and did not wake when, as can often happen in April and especially here on the coast, there came a short, sharp burst of rain.

  Chapter Six

  As the skies drew in and the sun sank slowly in a blaze of luminous reds, mauves, lemon and gold, Emilia crept into the summer house. Smiling happily, for she was looking forward to some company, she sat on a cushioned, wrought-iron bench and waited. Something warm touched her leg. She reached down to brush off what she thought was an insect. The warm thing came again. It seemed to be searching her flesh. It was a hand.

  With a cry she jumped up and peered down behind the bench. ‘Ben! So this is where you are.’

  Having returned to Roskerne, but wanting to remain alone and feeling sick and heavy-headed, he had stretched out in here and slept again. Stiff and aching all over, he moaned while struggling to get up. He smoothed at his damp, crumpled suit, looked about for his absent tie. ‘There was a time when you would’ve helped me.’

  ‘There was a time you would’ve been worth it. You’ve missed dinner, it was rude of you. Go in and apologize to Tris and Winnie.’ She spotted the tie, tossed over the waxy dark-green leaves of a pot plant. ‘Here.’

  ‘Here what?’ Lurching on unsteady feet he grabbed the bench for balance.

  ‘This.’ She pushed the tie, made of expensive silk, into his hand.

  ‘Don’t get shirty. I can’t see properly, remember? Put it on for me.’

  ‘There’s no point now. You smell disgusting. Go in and take a bath.’

  ‘Damn it, woman, you just can’t resist giving orders, can you?’ Ben’s blurred vision cleared and he had a good look at her. ‘Mmmm, damned attractive evening dress.’

  Emilia was too late in pulling up her fringed shawl to cover the upper swell of her breasts, which were more fulsome due to her motherhood. ‘Be careful you don’t fall down the steps on your way out.’

  ‘What are you doing here like this? It takes a lot to drag you away from the baby.’ He gave a wicked laugh. ‘Good heavens! An assignation. Let me see, who are you waiting for? There could only be one candidate. Alec. Well, lucky old Alec. Is this a special place for you both?’

  For once he had the upper hand. Emilia turned scarlet, glowing as brightly as the setting sun. ‘Was it in here you and he first got down to a spot of clinch and grapple? And now you slip in here for old times’ sake when you visit Winnie. How romantic. Bit soon after Jenna’s birth though, isn’t it?’

  Emilia was not about to allow her hung-over, pathetic brother-in-law to defile her love life with Alec. ‘We just want to spend a little time together, that’s all. Ben, will you please go.’

  ‘Well, I certainly don’t want to stay and watch!’

  As he moved his foot, he stumbled and fell into her. His weight sent them hurtling down on the bench. She cried out in shock and pain as her back hit the hard wrought iron.

  Ben was suddenly hauled away from her, the next moment doubling over as Alec drove a fist deep into his gut. ‘Stay away from my wife!’

  ‘Alec, it was an accident.’ Emilia leaned forward and grabbed him, fearing he would go after Ben again. ‘He was just leaving, he fell.’

  ‘I heard, I saw, but that doesn’t excuse the way he was speaking to you. It’s time he grew up.’ Alec kept his fists balled. He was steady on his feet, ready for anything Ben might do.

  Ben coughed and groaned. He uttered a stream of foul words. ‘You had no need to thump me, you miserable rotten swine. I’ll pay you back for this.’

  ‘Think you’re up to it, do you? You’re a poor excuse for a man. The way you strut about as if you’re more important than anyone else is sickening. There was no need to get drunk so early and go off alone. You’re not fit to be in this family, you’re a poor excuse for a brother. Tris doesn’t deserve to be concerned about you and your whereabouts on his wedding day. Now sober up and make recompense to him and Winnie. And never, ever, speak to Emilia with such disrespect again.’

  Clutching the arm of the bench, panting, Ben levered himself upright. He glared at Alec. Emilia saw more than bitterness and resentment in him this time. He was emanating pure hatred. ‘I bet it’s you who’s making more fuss about my conduct than Tris. You’re jealous of everything that I do, admit it. You’re the one who’s selfish, Emilia will see that one day.’ He groaned and held his stomach. It felt as if his insides were rearranging themselves. ‘I swear, if something doesn’t make you suffer, and I mean both of you, for this one day soon, then I’ll do it myself.’

  * * *

  From his bedroom window Tristan was gazing out across the ocean, concentrating on its steady advance and retreat. Winnie’s maid had closed the heavy swagged and valanced curtains, but he had swept them open as far as they would go. He’d ask Winnie if she wouldn’t mind sleeping this way every night and, after a suitable time, if the lace curtains could be dispensed with. He always took pleasure in the fresh air, the light and the soothing rhythmic sounds.

  ‘Tris…’

  So at one with the sea was he, he had missed Winifred coming in from her dressing room and getting into bed.

  ‘Sorry, Winnie, I was miles away.’

  ‘I was beginning to think you were going to stand there all night.’

  She was lying with the covers clutched up to her chin, a young-looking figure in the vast stump bed, an ornately carved oak relic from her late husband’s family. He felt nervous and silly. He may have mentioned having a daughter in fun earlier, but the intimate side of married life, this next duty, hadn’t actually occurred to him before this minute. In the last five years he had occasionally visited certain working women, as a soldier might, but regular lovemaking – it was an awesome and a pleasant thought. Poor Winnie though, she was dreading it from her strained e
xpression. ‘Well, I, um, had better get in then.’

  ‘Turn out the lanterns first.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Winifred turned her face away while he slipped off his dressing gown and got in beside her.

  He lay down. Kept himself to his side of the bed. ‘Did you enjoy the day, my dear?’

  ‘Yes,’ she lied. ‘Did you?’

  ‘Yes. Pity Ben and Alec are at loggerheads yet again. Em doesn’t help matters with her stroppy attitude towards Ben.’

  ‘You’re close to Emilia, aren’t you? I’ve noticed how her friends usually call her Em.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I am. It’s good to have her in the family.’

  ‘It’s Jonny I’m worried about. He was rude to Vera Rose just before bedtime. We’re going to have problems with him.’

  ‘Not if I can help it. I’ll talk to him tomorrow after the others have left for home. I’ve been thinking about things from Jonny’s point of view. It’s been a terrible wrench for him to leave the farm, but he could spend time there in the holidays and the occasional weekend. Vera Rose too. Should please everyone. I’ll see about getting him into the Cub Scouts. Take him to watch the fishermen unload their boats. Plenty of activity, that’s what he needs.’ Tristan turned on his side towards his bride.

  Winifred was set on delaying the inevitable, but what she was about to say next was not a tactic in the cause. There was something she was burning to know. It was against Tristan’s tolerant nature to take exception against anyone, particularly a child. ‘Tris, will you tell me why you have a problem with Louisa Hetherton-Andrews?’

  ‘Ah, yes, that’s something you’ve got the right to know about. I’m afraid it’s an unpalatable truth, Winnie. Just a minute.’ He pushed his pillows up against the hard bedhead and leaned against them in the semi-darkness. He took a sip from the glass of water close by on an old military chest.