Nobody Asked Me

by Mary Burchell

  Simon was absolutely his charming, easy-going self once more; the perfect host, the amusing companion. But Alison knew that, after that scene at the dance, she could never look at him with quite the same eyes again, and she thought now:

  ‘When he is quiet, it’s like the quiet of the sea-dark and still and, somehow, a little menacing.’

  She scolded herself for a fanciful little fool because she was vaguely alarmed to find that Julian’s room was the full length of the passage from hers. She never remembered being nervous like this before, and it made her feel annoyed and ashamed.

  ‘You’ve changed the rooms round a bit, haven’t you?’ Julian said, looking round. ‘I don’t remember ever having seen this one before.’

  ‘Yes. This is Simon’s room, really,’ Jennifer explained. ‘But for some reason or other he changed only this week.’

  ‘I like change.’ Simon said carelessly ‘You get into one mood and one groove of thought if you always stay in one place.’

  ‘Really, Simon’-Jennifer looked surprised-’I’ve never heard you talk like that about moods before.’

  ‘No?’ her brother smiled. ‘But the idea is a sound one.’

  ‘And which is your room now?’ Alison asked, rather as though she couldn’t help it.

  Simon didn’t answer at once, but he looked at her a little strangely, she thought Or was that her fancy too?

  ‘He has the room at the other end of the passage now,’ Jennifer answered for him. ‘The one opposite the rose room-your room, you know.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Alison said. And for one ridiculous, incredible moment she wanted to cling to Julian and say, ‘Take me home. Please take me home.’

  The utterly illogical access of nerves passed, of course, and, later that evening, she wondered what on earth could have possessed her to make her feel like that.

  An admirably cooked meal was served by the woman who-with her husband-did all the work of the house. And then they all four sat round the fire.

  Alison sat quite still staring into the flickering fire, with a growing feeling of half-superstitious dread, while the others went on talking.

  She didn’t like the cottage, she told herself. She didn’t like the owner Above all, she didn’t want to sleep alone- not in that beautiful rose-filled room, just across the narrow passage from Simon’s room.

  It was ridiculous, of course. There was actually nothing concrete at all that could happen The whole thing was completely illogical But then fear never was logical. That was the worst of it-you couldn’t argue with it.

  ‘Alison’s half asleep,’ declared Jennifer. ‘And no wonder. Look at the time.’

  She began to murmur a protest but Julian got up at once, and she had no choice, but to follow suit He kissed her good night quite calmly under the eyes of the other two. Jennifer scarcely appeared to notice but even without looking at him, Alison knew that Simon’s dark eyes were smouldering with that strange inner fire that was frightening.

  How dare he! she thought angrily as she went upstairs with Jennifer. What business was it of his how Julian kissed her-or indeed; if he kissed her at all?

  Alone in her room she undressed quickly, but she didn’t get into bed. She crouched down on the rug by the fire, and listened to the rising wind moaning round the house.

  Presently she heard the two men come upstairs, and there was the sound of Julian’s door closing. She couldn’t hear that Simon shut his door but then. of course perhaps it closed quietly. Or perhaps he preferred to sleep with his door open. It was an ordinary enough thing to do. But somehow she hated the thought of Simon’s door half open- just opposite hers.

  The wind came again, shaking the windows and lifting the little chintz curtains. so that the roses seemed to be swaying to and fro. A few drops of rain found their way down the wide cottage chimney and fell hissing into the flames. Alison drew her wrap more tightly round her and shivered a little.

  By now she scarcely knew what she feared-the night, or Simon, of the wind, or just being alone, The strange, inexplicable sounds which disturb the night in any old house began to force themselves on her strained attention, and the loud beating of her own heart sounded like a drum.

  She began to think of the passage outside her door. It was not so long, really. She could reach Julian’s room in a few seconds-if she ran. And her slippers would make no sound on the thick carpet.

  Slowly and a little stiffly Alison got to her feet. She put out the light, and stood there for a minute in the glow from the fire, before she went over and softly, softly began to open her door.

  The firelight from her room showed her that Simon’s door was half open. It appeared to her to yawn darkly, and for a moment she thought she could not pass it.

  Then she was out in the passage.

  She took one step, and a board creaked ominously. She held her breath. It seemed to her that there was another sound from somewhere-she could not have said where. And in sudden, unreasoning panic she fled along the passage, silently, breathlessly, not even pausing to think.

  Julian’s door was before her, clear in the moonlight from the landing window. Scarcely bothering about silence now, she opened the door, slipped in, and closed it behind her.

  And then, for the first time, as she stood there in the darkness, she felt utterly and absolutely safe.

  ‘Julian,’ she said. ‘Julian.’ She was surprised to hear how her voice shook.

  She heard him give a smothered, sleepy exclamation, ‘Is that you, Alison? What’s the matter, child?’ And then the shaded light by his bed was switched on.

  Alison came over slowly and stood there a little awkwardly in the circle of light, watching him as he mechanically smoothed his hand over his hair.

  ‘What is it, Alison?’ he said again, and she didn’t think he sounded overwhelmingly pleased.

  ‘I-I’m frightened,’ she stammered ridiculously.

  ‘Frightened?’ he repeated in astonishment. And then something in her white face and big scared eyes seemed to reach him. He leaned out of bed without a word, and calmly lifted her in beside him.

  ‘Is that better?’ He drew her close, and she gave a great sigh of relief, which somehow became a sob instead.

  ‘Hush, you poor baby.’ He pressed his cheek against her hair. ‘Why didn’t you come to me before? How your poor little heart is beating.’ His hand was against her heart, and she thought it must surely stop beating with the sweetness of his touch.

  ‘I’m all right now,’ she whispered.

  ‘Sure? Shall I put out the light, or do you want it?’

  ‘Oh, no, I don’t want it now, thank you.’

  He stretched out his hand and put out the light.

  She lay close against him, warm and safe and utterly content. Somewhere she could hear a door swinging in the wind. Simon’s door, no doubt, but it held no terrors for her now.

  Presently she heard someone go and close it quietly. And that was the last thing she heard.

  When she woke next morning, she was in her own bed in her own room, very carefully and securely tucked up like a baby. Julian must have brought her along and tucked her in like this. It made her laugh a little, but it made her feel very happy too. He had such funny, dear, careful ways with her, even if he didn’t-

  Then she stopped abruptly. She wouldn’t follow out that line of thought. It didn’t lead anywhere and only made her miserable.

  It was still fairly early, but the sun was shining so brightly that she decided to get up. She bathed and dressed quickly; then, slipping on a thick coat; she ran quietly downstairs and let herself out of the front door.

  When they had arrived the previous afternoon it had been too dark to take in much. But now she saw that a big garden stretched on either side of the house, and at the back it sloped away downhill to a chattering stream.

  The whole place looked a little sad and neglected after the winter rains, but even on this December morning there was a certain wild sweetness about it.

  Alison
wandered along the uneven paths, stopping to look at things here and there; and she thought she understood what Simon had meant when he had declared the place was as beautiful in December as in June.

  Poor Simon! She had been really silly about him last night. Her vague fears seemed utterly ridiculous in the morning light. Only, she would not have wished them away, she thought, because that would have cancelled those heavenly hours with Julian.

  As she turned back to the house, she saw that Simon was coming towards her. She thought he looked a little pale, but he greeted her with a smile, and strolled along beside her, pointing out one or two things, and drawing her attention to the view beyond the garden.

  She stood for a minute, looking away to the distant hills, her hands in her pockets and her hair blowing in the wind. Then, suddenly becoming aware of the terrible intensity of his gaze, she glanced at him.

  He dropped his eyes immediately with an odd hint of sullenness. Then he said unexpectedly, ‘I hope I didn’t disturb you when I closed your door last night, but the wind was making it swing rather noisily.’

  ‘‘My door!’ She looked astonished. ‘Was that my door I heard?’

  ‘Yes. Didn’t you know?’ He was looking at her again now.

  ‘No. At least- Why, of course, I must have left it open when I went along-’ She stopped abruptly, perhaps at his expression.

  ‘God in heaven,’ he said in a fierce whisper. ‘You’re not going to finish that sentence to me, are you?’

  She drew back sharply.

  ‘I think you must have gone crazy,’ she said coldly.

  He passed his hand over his eyes.

  ‘I think perhaps I have. I didn’t know there was anything -like that between you two. Not until I heard you go along to him last night-and him carry you back-this morning.’

  ‘Simon! Will you stop saying these unpardonable things!’ The stormy anger in Alison’s eyes matched his own for a moment.

  He made an impatient gesture.

  ‘Very well. I’m sorry-if that’s what you want to drag out of me. And here comes your Julian,’ he added with concentrated bitterness. ‘For God’s sake go and speak to him, for I can’t.’ And, turning on his heel, he left her.

  Shaking all over, Alison went to meet her husband.

  ‘Julian-’ She took his arm quickly. ‘Julian, could we please go back to Town this afternoon, and not stay here until to-morrow morning?’

  ‘Why, my dear?’ He didn’t look quite so surprised as she had expected, but, with her nerves so strung up, she felt she could bear no arguments.

  ‘Oh, do you always demand an explanation before you will do anything?’ she cried with uncontrollable impatience.

  ‘No, of course not. We will go back this afternoon,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Oh, thank you.’ She bit her lips to keep them from trembling.

  ‘Alison.’

  ‘Yes.’ She looked faintly startled at his tone.

  He turned her gently but relentlessly towards him.

  ‘Has Simon anything to do with this decision of yours?’

  CHAPTER IX

  ALISON had the odd sensation that her mind went completely blank for a second. Then incoherent thoughts seemed to rush in from every side at once. Explanations… prevarication… the truth… which was the right thing to do? What would simplify the miserable situation instead of complicating it?

  She looked up desperately into her husband’s face. And at the quiet reasonableness of those grey eyes she suddenly found courage again.

  With only a hint of nervousness, she stroked the sleeve of his coat appealingly.

  ‘Julian, don’t think me deceitful or-or anything, but please may I leave that question unanswered?’

  He raised his eyebrows slightly.

  ‘My dear, I’ve no wish to force your confidence now or at any other time,’ he said. ‘But you realise that your silence is almost an answer in itself?’

  ‘Please, Julian-if you’d just say no more about it-’

  He could not ignore the earnestness of her appeal. ‘Very well,’ he said slowly. ‘But I will arrange that we leave this afternoon. There will be no necessity for you to make explanations to anyone, you understand-not to anyone.’

  ‘Thank you, Julian,’ she said. And without another word they went into the house together.

  It was impossible to say whether Julian was deliberately responsible for the fact, but Alison was not left alone again with Simon, and for that she was profoundly thankful.

  Only right at the end, when they were actually going out to the car, Simon drew her back slightly, so that Julian and Jennifer went on ahead.

  ‘I hope there were some things about the week-end which you enjoyed, Alison,’ he said, ‘and that I haven’t entirely spoilt it for you.’

  In the relief of going away it was easier to forgive him, and Alison impulsively held out her hand.

  ‘It’s all right, Simon. Don’t think any more about it, and I won’t either.’

  He made rather a wry face for a moment.

  ‘You’re asking a good deal of my memory, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘But if your forgiveness depends on that-I’ll do my best.’

  And then they came up with the others once more, and good-byes were said.

  ‘You must bring her again, in the spring. It’s beautiful then,’ Jennifer told Julian.

  ‘Yes, come again, in the spring,’ Simon said. But it was at Alison that he looked, and not at Julian at all.

  On the drive back to Town they talked very little, but something in the contented quality of their silence reminded Alison of that time months ago when Julian had described her as ‘a restful little presence,’ and it made her very happy.

  It was pleasant to be home again-for the luxurious flat was rapidly becoming ‘home’ to Alison, after all-and to add to her pleasure there was a letter from Audrey which had arrived the previous evening.

  ‘Dear Alison’ [she wrote, with touching confidence], ‘You will be pleased to hear we shall be home for the Christmas holidays in just over a week Do you and Julian like pantomime’s? Because we thought it would be more fun going with you than with Mother. If Julian doesn’t like them we could go with just you one afternoon, and then go home to your new flat for tea. We’d like to see the flat.

  ‘Theo thinks you may not want anybody but yourselves, but I should think you’ve nearly got over that by now. Anyway it will be very nice to see you.

  ‘Lots of love.-Audrey.

  ‘P.S. Could you tell Daddy very tactfully that I do want a bicycle for Christmas? I’m afraid Mother means it to be a silver manicure set, and it does seem such a waste, as I should have much more use for a bicycle.’

  Alison laughed a good deal as she handed the letter over to Julian.

  ‘I must see what I can do with Uncle Theodore,’ she said.

  Julian read the squarely written lines.

  ‘We could make perfectly sure, of course, by giving her the bicycle ourselves,’ he suggested.

  ‘Why, of course we could! I keep on forgetting. It’s such fun being-’ She stopped and looked a little embarrassed.

  He smiled. ‘What is fun, Alison?’

  Alison flushed. ‘Being rich,’ she said after a moment.

  Julian laughed outright at that.

  ‘I begin to think it is, now that I have you to point it out,’ he agreed amusedly. ‘Shall I see about these pantomime tickets?’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Julian. You don’t want to come too, I suppose?’

  ‘Why not?’ He was still smiling thoughtfully, although he was not looking at her.

  ‘Well, I-I hadn’t thought that taking children to a pantomime was quite in your line, somehow,’ Alison said.

  He gave her that amused, winning look that he could sometimes wear. ‘Stop talking like a superior mother of a family,’ he told her. ‘I’m just as well qualified as you to take children to a pantomime. We’ll take them together.’

  ‘Very well. That would be nicest of all,
of course,’ Alison agreed.

  She too smiled a little as she turned away. When Julian was boyishly light-hearted like this, it made up for nearly everything.

  A week later, Alison went to the station to meet the twins on their arrival.

  They were both quite obviously delighted to see her, and Audrey kissed her with unembarrassed fervour.

  ‘How nice you look, Alison,’ she said. ‘You’re nearly as pretty as Rosalie sometimes, and much nicer, of course. I’m going to enjoy these holidays!’

  The next afternoon was an unqualified success. The twins possessed a certain rather artless capacity for enjoying themselves which made them excellent company. And both Julian and Alison went to a good deal of trouble to see that they had plenty to enjoy.

  It amused and touched her to see Julian so much at home as the host of a couple of schoolchildren. There was nothing surprising in his being an admirable escort when he took her out, but it was something of a revelation to find that he seemed to know by instinct-or perhaps forethought-what would best please Theo and Audrey.

  During the interval, she looked round interestedly. She hadn’t been to a pantomime since the days of her own early school holidays, when she used to come with her parents. Then, the grown-ups had seemed immeasurably older than oneself, and really rather unimportant people. It was funny how ten years could change one’s point of view.

  Afterwards, they took the twins home with them to the flat for tea, since that seemed to be what they most wanted.

  ‘I say, what a lovely flat,’ exclaimed Audrey.

  ‘And tea,’ supplemented Theo, with his usual economy of words.

  ‘It was nice of you to ask us here,’ Audrey said, turning to Julian.

  ‘Not at all,’ Julian assured her. ‘I was under the impression that you asked yourself.’

  ‘Did I?’ Audrey paused for a moment in the act of selecting a cake, and looked enquiringly across at Alison.

  Her cousin only smiled, while Julian said gravely, ‘I seem to remember a letter which outlined a very happy Christmas holiday for us all.’

  ‘Oh, that.’ Audrey went on with her tea. ‘Well, I thought it would be best to get plenty into these holidays before Alison starts having a baby or anything like that.’