She had a lightness and rhythm all her own, and soon they were moving in motion together and she smiled up at him, pleased that this was so. Two or three times they were bumped into, and occasionally he had to excuse himself for bumping into someone else; the small floor was packed even before the company from the cocktail bar came onto it again.
It was when they were almost knocked off their balance by a stumbling, laughing couple that Angus said somewhat angrily, ‘Here, steady on,’ and, balancing Vanessa, he glared at the back of the man who had bumped into them, and who was evidently far from sober for he had his head on his partner’s neck as he shook with laughter. But Angus’s tone piercing his mirth brought him round and he stared from one to the other. Then, his mouth widening, he said, ‘Ah, good Lord! Cotton…And you!’ His eyebrows moved upwards as he continued to stare at Vanessa. Then on a hic of a laugh, he said, ‘Why; would you believe it? Vanessa Ratcliffe!’ He poked his head towards her. ‘You know me. You remember at Susan’s do? Brian Cornell. Fancy seeing you here.’
‘Yes, fancy,’ said Angus flatly, putting his arm round Vanessa once more and moving away into the dance.
Within a minute Cornell was at their shoulder again, shouting above the music and the noise, ‘We’ll have to get together, eh?’
Angus made no reply, and a few minutes later he walked Vanessa back to the lounge.
‘You know him?’
She screwed up her face as if trying to remember. ‘Yes, yes, I’ve seen him before. He came to a party of Susan’s. And you…you know him, too?’
‘He was in the rugby team. Still is for all I know.’ He didn’t add that Cornell was one of those individuals who would speak to you if he must in the dressing room, or when he was drunk, as now, but would ignore you flat in the street when he was with his womenfolk. And they said there was no class distinction these days. God! That was funny. He remembered thinking along the same lines the day he met Colin Brett in the station. ‘Have another coffee?’ he asked her.
‘Yes, I think I will.’
He leaned towards her. ‘What about a liqueur? Would you like a liqueur?’
‘No.’ It was a firm no. ‘And stop throwing your money about.’ She was smiling gently at him. ‘You’ll need all you can get from now on.’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I know. But this is a night apart.’
They were looking at each other; then her head drooped and she moved the spoon around in her cup as she said, ‘I’m glad I’ve got a job, Angus; it’ll help, won’t it?’
He didn’t answer her for a moment; and then he said, ‘I don’t want you to go to work, Van. You know that, don’t you?’
‘But I can’t stay at home all day, Angus; there’s nothing to do.’
‘There will be once you get into the bungalow. There’ll be more than you can tackle.’
Once more their gaze held until he exclaimed, ‘Aw, don’t let’s talk about that now. Drink your coffee and then I’ll let you stand on me toes again.’
She had just put her cup down when there loomed over them the tall, heavy figure of Brian Cornell. ‘Ha-ha!’ He put a hand on each of their shoulders. ‘I’ve caught you.’
There was the thing about getting to your feet, Angus knew, when another man came to a table when a woman was present, but he remained seated, his head to one side, staring up into the grinning countenance.
‘Spare her a minute?’ Cornell’s voice was thick and fuddled, and his glance merely touched on Angus as he made his request. But it rested heavily on Vanessa as he said briefly, ‘Dance?’
‘She’s not dancing any more.’
‘What!’ Cornell straightened himself. ‘Now, now. Come on, Cotton; don’t play the heavy husband. You should have got over that by now. What is it? Four months? Six months? Anyway, I knew her before you did.’ He laughed as he punched Angus not too gently on the back.
‘You do remember me, don’t you?’ He was leaning over Vanessa, his face close to hers. ‘Susan’s party. You know something? I remember thinking then that you’d beat Susan to a frazzle. Come on, give me this dance?’ He caught hold of her arm, but she remained seated.
‘Leave go of her!’ Angus was now on his feet.
‘What! Aw, Cotton, be your age.’ Cornell thrust his arm backwards across Angus’s chest. ‘Don’t come the heavy husband, man. You’re out of your depths; they don’t act like that where she comes from.’
His raised voice had attracted the other occupants of the lounge. There was a man sitting to the right of them who had turned completely round and was listening intently to all that was going on.
‘I—I don’t want to dance, thank you,’ Vanessa said; then looking from Cornell to Angus she added quickly, ‘It’s about time we were going.’
The look she bent on Angus said plainly, ‘Please, please don’t make a scene,’ and he obeyed it. His jaw stiff, his fists clenched tight, he waited for Cornell to leave them. But Cornell had no intention of leaving them. Sidling down onto the wall seat to the left of Vanessa, he mumbled thickly, ‘S’prised to see you; didn’t think they would let you up out of the ghetto.’
The next second Brian Cornell was up on his feet again, brought there by Angus’s hands gripping the lapels of his coat.
‘Come on outside.’
‘Go to the devil!’ Cornell tugged himself from Angus’s hold; then surveyed him with disdain.
‘Are you coming outside?’
‘You’d better go.’ The words came from the man who had taken an interest in the proceedings. He was a youngish forty, dapper looking, small.
‘Oh, you, Fowler.’ Cornell turned towards the man. ‘Well, you keep out of this.’
‘Are you coming outside or have I to give it to you here?’
‘Have it anyway you like, chum, only don’t forget you asked for it.’ Cornell’s mouth curled upwards.
As they went through the lounge, Cornell shouted, ‘Arthur! Tony!’ but when Arthur and Tony came from the cocktail bar counter they were stayed by the man Cornell had called Fowler. ‘Hold your hand!’ he said. ‘They’ll have it out on their own.’
‘What the hell is it all about?’
‘You can ask Cornell when it’s over.’
It was quickly all over. Out in the open near the car park they squared up to each other.
If Cornell had been sober he would have been a match for Angus, but in his present condition his blows were aimed wildly; not so Angus’s. A blow with the right hand to the stomach was immediately followed by a quick left-right to the face. When Cornell stumbled against the wall, his body bent over double, Angus stood back gasping.
There was a small crowd around them now, all men, with the exception of Vanessa, and as she moved to Angus’s side he pushed her roughly away muttering, ‘Go and get your things on.’
After a moment’s pause she turned to obey him, and it was then she saw one of Cornell’s friends, with his fist at shoulder level, making for Angus from behind, but he never reached him, for experiencing a feeling of anger that was quite new to her she sprang forward crying, ‘Stop it, you drunken beast you.’ Whether it was the push she gave the man, or the surprise of being attacked by a girl, he stumbled backwards, and those around sniggered. But the sound died swiftly away as Brian Cornell raised himself up and leant against the wall for support. There was blood running from the corner of his mouth and one eye was already swelling.
Another man, going to Cornell’s aid, turned and confronted Angus, crying, ‘You should be damned well ashamed of yourself. If there was a policeman about I’d hand you over. They’re never here when they’re wanted.’
The quiet voice interrupted again, saying, ‘You’re talking to the wrong fellow; he didn’t start it.’
‘I saw what he started; I was in the lounge. He attacked him first.’
‘Under provocation.’
‘Come on.’ Angus pushed Vanessa past the men and into the hotel again, where the manager was waiting in the foyer, his face no longer smiling. His voice
stiff, he said, ‘This is a very unfortunate incident, sir.’
‘You should be more particular who you let in then, shouldn’t you? And you shouldn’t keep on serving drink to drunks.’
‘Angus!’ There was deep appeal in Vanessa’s voice and he turned to her and, biting on his lip, said harshly, ‘All right, all right. Get your things.’
She wasn’t a minute collecting her coat and hat, and when she returned to the hall Angus was talking to the dapper man; at least, the dapper man was talking to Angus. He turned to Vanessa and said, ‘Now don’t let this little incident worry you. I was just telling your husband that should anything come of it he can call on me to say my piece.’
‘Thank you.’ She inclined her head towards him, and, looking intently at her, he smiled and said, ‘You don’t know me but I know of you. I happen to be Brian Braintree’s half-cousin.’ Perhaps it was because he felt that both of them stiffened that he added quickly, ‘But on the poor side. Brian’s father and mine are full cousins but they’re not on speaking terms; we weren’t invited to the wedding.’ He brought his head forward as he pulled a face. ‘I recognised you right away. You were at the Taylors’ house about three years ago when I was there. You haven’t changed much. My name’s Fowler, Andrew Fowler.’
All she could say was, ‘Oh.’ Her face was flushed. She knew he was trying to be nice, smooth things over, but she wished he wouldn’t. She felt sure that the very mention of him being connected in any way with her family, or the one into which Susan had married, would make Angus angry. But Angus showed no actual resentment towards the man; in fact, he bade him goodnight quite civilly, and when he turned towards the door the man turned with them, saying, ‘I’m off too.’ And on the steps of the hotel he left them, adding, ‘Goodbye. And don’t let it worry you. Cornell’s been asking for that for a long time.’
They walked across the drive and round by the car park and to the bus stop almost in silence. It was as they were standing there that Andrew Fowler passed them in the car. Drawing up sharply and backing towards them, he asked, ‘Can I give you a lift?’
Angus hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘Thanks,’ and opened the door and helped Vanessa in.
‘Where can I drop you?’
‘Oh, anywhere near Caxton Bridge,’ said Angus in an off-hand manner.
They had gone a little way when Fowler dropped his head backwards as he said, ‘You’re in the contracting business, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. How did you know?’
‘Oh, I’m an architect. I remember seeing you down at Ralstons, in the office or somewhere, and somebody happened to remark that you had started up.’
Yes, thought Angus to himself; I bet they did. And I bet they added, ‘That’s him that got old Ratcliffe’s daughter into trouble.’ Only the term wouldn’t have been as polite as that.
‘How’s business going?’
‘Oh, not too bad. Could be better though.’
‘How many are you running…lorries?’
‘Just the two at the moment.’ He was talking as if the concern was his own.
‘Hmm!’ There was a silence after this for a while until Andrew Fowler remarked, ‘You really need more than two unless you’re always going to be dependent on the big firms.’
As if he didn’t know that.
When they reached the bridge, and the car stopped, Andrew Fowler turned to Angus and, handing him his card, said, ‘You may want to get in touch with me if they stir anything up about tonight. As I said, I’ll vouch for you being provoked. Cornell’s a nasty piece of work; I think you’d better know that.’
‘I already know it; I’ve met him afore. We were in the rugby team together.’
‘Oh.’
‘But thanks. Thanks all the same. And thanks for the lift. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight,’ said Vanessa. ‘And thank you.’
He nodded to them both and said, ‘Goodnight,’ and drove off.
They walked down the main road and over the traffic lights, past the railway bridge and up the street, and just before they reached the door he pulled her to a stop and, peering at her in the dimness, said, ‘I’m sorry. It…it was such a grand night, but…it wasn’t really my fault.’
‘Oh, I know, Angus, I know. He was a horrible beast, and I’m glad that you hit him.’ There was a vehemence in her voice that he hadn’t heard before, and he smiled slightly and said with some surprise, ‘You are?’
‘Yes. I wanted to hit him myself.’ She, too, was smiling weakly now. ‘I pushed that other man.’ She put her hand up to her face as she added, ‘I’ve never done that before in my life; but…but I wished I’d had a stick or something.’
He put his hand out swiftly and grasped her round the shoulders and pressed her to him for a moment; then they went into the house.
Emily was in; so too were Rosie and Stan; and Emily turned and looked at them in surprise, saying, ‘Well! You’re back early.’
‘No good?’ asked Rosie.
‘Very good,’ said Vanessa. ‘Very good indeed.’ She looked from one to the other; then slowly she started to laugh. Leaning against the table she laughed and laughed.
They had never heard her laugh like this; they had never seen her mouth stretch in real laughter. They watched her put her arm around her waist as her laughter grew. It was almost touching on hysteria and they became infected by it. Angus sat heavily down on a chair, and threw his head back. Emily was laughing, as were Rosie and Stan, although they didn’t know what they were laughing about.
‘What is it? Tell us the joke,’ Rosie spluttered, and when Vanessa, gasping and holding her chin tightly, said, ‘He…Angus had a fight,’ Emily’s laughter suddenly ceased and she cried, ‘MY God! You didn’t. Not at Donovan’s?’
Vanessa was nodding her head when Rosie, who had also stopped laughing, said, ‘Oh, our Angus. You had a fight in Donovan’s? Trust you to show yourself up.’
Vanessa was still gasping, and the tears were running down her face, and she tried to check her mirth as she said to Rosie, ‘But he didn’t, he didn’t. There was a man and he was bothering me and he wouldn’t stop and,’ she glanced at Angus, and the laughter bubbled in her again, ‘he—he made him go outside and blacked his eyes.’ Her long thin body drooped and she collapsed into a chair.
‘Oh, my God!’ Emily was no longer amused. Staring at Angus now, she asked, ‘Who was he? Anybody important?’
‘Oh, Mam!’ He too had stopped laughing. ‘Important? Who’s important? Yes, I suppose you could say he was important. It was Brian Cornell.’
‘Cornell? You mean the shop Cornell; him who’s got the chain stores?’
‘Yes, him who’s got the chain stores.’
‘Well, mind, you picked on somebody to hit, didn’t you?’
‘Aye, I picked on somebody to hit, Mam; and I’ll hit him again if I meet up with him.’
‘Good for you,’ said Stan. ‘I know a bit about Cornell. Beer and bawd Cornell, they call him, and it isn’t spelt b-o-a-r-d. He’s no good.’
‘We agree on that, Stan,’ said Angus, nodding across the table.
‘Aw dear, dear me,’ said Emily, getting to her feet. ‘Trust you to get into trouble. I don’t know when you have gone out of this house that something hasn’t happened to you.’
‘We had a lovely dinner,’ said Vanessa now.
‘Aye, what did you have?’ asked Stan, aiming to change the subject.
And Vanessa told them, and in detail, and she ended, ‘We had Liebfraumilch with it.’ They hadn’t, but it sounded better than Graves Supérieur.
‘Lieb—what? What in the name of goodness is that when you’re out?’ asked Rosie.
‘It’s a wine. Angus chose it.’
Both Rosie and Emily were looking at Angus as if they had never seen him before. They didn’t ask what he knew about this lieb-frau or whatever it was, they just looked at him, and he laughed openly at them. He was suddenly happy again, very happy. She was with him; she had said he had picked t
hat wine. He bent forward now and, pointing his finger at his mother, said, ‘And there’s something more you won’t believe. She hit a fellow.’ He thumbed in the direction of Vanessa; and now they were all looking at Vanessa, and Emily said in a shocked tone, ‘You didn’t, did you?’
‘Yes.’ She nodded her head in small jerks, smiling widely.
‘You must be spiffy,’ said Rosie.
‘No, no; I only had a sherry and two glasses of’—she paused—‘Liebfraumilch.’ She brought her head into deep obeisance as she said it again, and Emily said, ‘Well, I’ve heard everything. Was it this fellow, this Cornell fellow?’
‘No. I don’t know who it was, but after Angus had finished with Brian Cornell this man was going to hit him on the back of the head. I could see it coming, and so I pushed him as hard as I could.’
After a few seconds of silence the kitchen was suddenly filled with gales and gales of laughter. It mounted and mounted. Rosie leant her head helplessly against her mother’s flabby breast and they rocked together. Stan shook, and Angus shook, and Vanessa laid her head on her arms, so helpless had she become with laughing.
Never before in her life had Vanessa experienced this exhilarating feeling of laughter. They had never laughed at home, not really. Smiled; oh yes, all the time. But they had never really laughed. She couldn’t remember hearing her father laugh out loud. She had seen him chuckle. Even Susan never laughed outright. It wouldn’t be the done thing for Susan. And Ray? Ray made noises of glee but he didn’t laugh. Nobody laughed like these people, the people to whom she had linked herself, and in this moment she loved them. And it was in this moment that her love for Angus was born.
It was almost an hour later when they went into their room and there, doubling his fist, he said, ‘I didn’t realise it before but my knuckles are hurting.’
‘I bet his face is hurting more.’
They were standing looking at each other on the hearthrug in front of the dead fire, and after a moment he put out his hand and touched her cheek and said under his breath, ‘You’ve been grand the night, grand.’
The Round Tower Page 25
