A Friend of the Family (36 page)

He felt her shake her head against his shoulder and was filled with a wild unreasoning joy. He kissed her again then and felt her trembling joining with his own. Suddenly she broke away and went before him, leading him up the stairs and into her bedroom. She shut the door and stood looking at him. He guessed what it must have cost her to bring him here and, catching her to him, he took her to the bed and began to undress her. She stood shivering violently and he rolled her into the quilt, hesitating only to drag off his own clothes. Slowly, sweetly, he began to make love to her, gentling her into relaxation and stroking and kissing her into passion. She cried out when he entered her and her cries grew louder as they moved together until, after one great cry of triumph, release and pleasure, she subsided in a storm of weeping and he continued to hold her in his arms whilst the short winter afternoon faded into evening.

 

Thirty-seven

 

THEA AND THE CHILDREN
remained at the Old Station House when George returned to Brussels for the last six weeks of his appointment. She saw no reason to expose Amelia and Julia to more upheaval and George agreed with her. So it was that Thea took up the reins of her own household once more and Polly was free to go to London. Now that it had come to it she was smitten with terror. It was one thing to plan a career from the safety of the Old Station House with Percy and Jessie at hand and Maggie to be impressed by it and quite another to step out, leaving its protection behind her, to wrestle with the world.

‘But you'll have Marcus,' Thea pointed out when she realised that Polly was panicking.

‘Mmm,' said Polly, to whom Marcus presented as much of a challenge as her new career.

She spent a few days packing or pretending to, played with the two little girls and wandered up and down the track with Jessie, and still she postponed the actual day of going. At last Thea took things into her own hands and telephoned Marcus when Polly was out shopping.

‘She's got cold feet,' she explained. ‘I know that she doesn't need to be there full-time yet and she could always come if you wanted her for something but the longer she stays the harder it will be for her to leave us. Her divorce has come through and I think she's desperately clinging to the shreds of her old life. We're all the family she's got now. Poor Polly. I don't want her to go either but now that I'm back she's at a loose end and it's not good for her.'

‘Say no more,' said Marcus. ‘Everything's ready for her up here. I'll come and get her. Don't warn her, though. She may find some good reason for hanging on.'

So it was that Polly returned one morning from a shopping trip to Tavistock to see Marcus's car parked on the tarmac. Her heart began to bump and hop and she hurried in to find him sitting with Thea in the kitchen, chatting comfortably.

‘We had some business to discuss,' he said, rising to greet her and kissing her lightly on the cheek. ‘So I thought that I'd kill two birds with one stone and fetch you at the same time.'

‘Oh.' Polly was nonplussed. ‘But I'm not ready. I didn't realise . . .' She looked piteously at Thea who, feeling an utter traitor, hardened her heart.

‘I'm sure it won't take you long to finish off,' she said encouragingly. ‘Doesn't matter if you can't get it all in or you forget something. After all, you'll have to come back to pick up your car, won't you? We'll load Marcus's car up this time and yours next time.' She glanced at Marcus.

‘That's an excellent idea,' he agreed promptly. ‘Just chuck it all in. You won't need your car to begin with. You start recording in a few weeks, you know, so there's lots to go through. Might as well make a start. I expect Thea will have you back for the weekend now and then.'

He winked at Polly and smiled and she felt a great surging mixture of love, excitement and terror. Thea got up from the table. ‘If you've finished with me, I'll just go and check on the girls,' she said. ‘It all sounds too quiet for my liking.'

She slipped out and Polly was left with Marcus, who continued to lean against the dresser, ankles crossed, his hands in his pockets.

‘Best get it over with,' he said gently. ‘Partings and new beginnings are always painful and frightening. No point in dragging it out. I know how much you'll miss them all but you'll be very busy and I shan't be far away, if you need me. If that's any comfort.'

He watched her for a moment and presently she smiled and nodded.
‘You're right, of course,' she said but still she stood, rooted to the spot.

‘Naturally,' said Marcus, trying for a lighter note and wishing that he could take her in his arms, ‘I know that I'm no substitute for Percy. Or Jessie, come to that.' He sighed heavily. ‘It's the devil of a job, competing with a parrot.'

‘The Devil, having nothing else to do,' said Percy, who had hitherto remained silent, ‘went off to tempt my Lady Poltagrue. My Lady, tempted by a private whim, to his extreme annoyance, tempted him.'

‘If that damned bird wasn't making all our fortunes,' observed Marcus, while Polly went into fits of laughter, ‘I'd wring his bloody neck. Off with you, wench! Go and get that packing done.'

As they raced up the motorway towards London, Polly watched Marcus out of the sides of her eyes. She looked at the long-fingered hands on the wheel, observed his long legs, the right knee casually relaxed towards his door, and experienced all the sensations that had been missing in her relationships with Freddie and Paul. As she lifted her eyes to his profile, he glanced at her. Their eyes met and instantly she felt as though she had been plunged in scalding water. She felt the scarlet blood suffuse her skin and stared blindly at the road ahead. Marcus was silent but imperceptibly the quality of the silence changed and became charged with emotion.

‘When we get home,' he said at last, ‘you will go upstairs into your flat and you will stay there. We will meet to discuss your contract and work and we'll go to the pub round the corner to eat in the evening, if you feel like it. But for one week you will reflect on the fact that I am eighteen years older than you are, that I have a grownup son and a failed marriage behind me. I'm a workaholic and a slavedriver and I know that business and pleasure don't mix. If, having thought about all those things, you open that interconnecting door and come downstairs for any other reason than the above stated, you might get more than you bargain for.'

Polly slipped a glance sideways at him but he was staring ahead. Aware of her look, a smile touched his lips. ‘Well?' he said.

Polly tucked her hand in under his arm and he involuntarily pressed it against his side.

‘Promise?' she asked.

 

DAVID, RACING DOWN THE
motorway to Broadhayes, passed Polly and Marcus somewhere near Reading. He was thinking about Kate. Ever since their coming together on Christmas Day, communication with her had been difficult. He had been obliged to hurry away, so as to be back to visit Miranda, knowing that Tim would be waiting impatiently, and Kate had been insistent that he should go, horrified lest he be late. When he telephoned her the next day she had been—well, what had she been? David swerved into the middle lane as a BMW hovered menacingly on his tail, lights flashing. It was so difficult to deduce how people were feeling by listening to their voices on the telephone. It was so easy to hide so much. Kate's voice had been, yes, shy. That was it, David decided. Shy and a little nervous, but friendly. He had wanted so badly for her to know how he felt, to put love, gratitude, comfort into his voice, but it was very difficult to do it when the other person was responding in monosyllables.

‘May I see you again?' he'd asked at last. ‘Please? Today? Tomorrow?'

She had hesitated for so long that he thought they'd been cut off and had cried out, ‘Are you still there?' much too anxiously.

‘Yes. Yes, I'm still here.' Kate's voice sounded as if she were smiling. ‘And no. I think perhaps not.'

The relief he had felt at hearing the smile in her voice was swamped by disappointment at her reply.

‘Oh, but why not, Kate?' The disappointment was patent in his voice. ‘Just for a moment.' He suddenly wondered if she thought that he wanted to go simply to make love to her again and horror swept over him. ‘Perhaps we could meet somewhere and I could buy you lunch?' he improvised hastily, trying to show that no such idea had been in his mind.

‘I just feel,' said Kate, after another long pause, ‘that it might be wise to stop now.'

‘But why?' cried David. ‘Didn't you feel that we have so much we could share? It wasn't just . . . well, it wasn't only . . . what we did together. Was it? That was wonderful. And terribly important. But there's so much more than that.'

‘It was wonderful.' Kate's voice was firm. At least there was to be no doubt about that. ‘I suppose that's why, in a way, I feel that we should stop. We don't have a future together. And it would be impossible to simply be friends after that. For me, anyway. I'm sorry, David.'

‘But why can't we have a future?' demanded David. ‘Why not, Kate? Surely not because of Felicity? Honestly, Kate . . . '

‘No, no.' She interrupted him quickly. ‘This has nothing to do with Felicity. You must see that we're simply poles apart. We're like two different species. It would be impossible.'

‘I don't accept that,' said David at once. ‘Listen . . . '

‘David, I must go.' Kate cut in rapidly and decisively. ‘I really should be somewhere else. Thank you for phoning. And for yesterday. It was . . . well, you know what it was. Thank you.'

There was a click and a buzzing and David flung the receiver back on the rest with a muttered imprecation.

At regular intervals during the following weeks he had telephoned her but with no success. She clung to her point and kept the conversations short. He wrote to her but received no reply and finally, in desperation, David decided to take matters into his own hands and go to see her. Ostensibly, the visit to Broadhayes was to see his new grandson but his real object was to talk to Kate. He had spent a great deal of time trying to design a plan that would appeal to her, that would give their friendship time and space to grow. It was difficult. Their ways of living were diametrically opposed and he racked his brain to see how they might be brought together. If she would not come to London then he must go to Devon. He was perfectly happy to weekend, many people did. George and Thea had done it and
would, no doubt, do it again. It was not an ideal way to live but it was a way, a start.

He decided to go direct to Kate at Whitchurch knowing that he would be distracted until he had seen her. When he finally turned in at the gate, the winter afternoon was already darkening and a gentle rain fell persistently. He was relieved to see her car in the drive and hastened to the door and rang the bell.

Kate opened the door and stared at him for a few moments in silence, shock and dismay, battling with pleasure, in her face.

‘Hello,' he said, wondering if she might shut the door on him. ‘May I come in? It's rather cold and wet out here.'

‘I'm sorry.' Kate held the door wider. ‘It was such a surprise. Come in.'

She turned to lead the way down the hall to the kitchen and David followed her filled with terrible misgivings. Now that he saw her face to face again he knew quite surely that she would not be easy to influence. He also knew that he loved her. During that Christmas afternoon he had discovered all the sensations that had been missing in his relationships with his wife and with Felicity. But what were her feelings for him? Had he completely misjudged her and was their coming together to be an isolated event? His whole being rejected the thought and he bent to stroke Felix, who came to greet him. He murmured to the dog, fondling his ears, but with his eyes on Kate, who had automatically gone to put the kettle on.

‘What a very determined man you are,' she said lightly.

‘You've given up,' he said, straightening up. ‘You've forgotten how important it is to fight for things.' His eyes fell on Felicity's painting. ‘You've forgotten how the sand feels.'

‘No.' She had looked taken aback at his opening statement but now she smiled a little. ‘No. You reminded me of that on Christmas Day.'

‘Oh, Kate.' Her reference to the very subject he thought she would avoid disarmed him. He sat down and looked at her. ‘I love you, d'you see? That makes it easy.'

‘No.' She shook her head. ‘That just makes it
seem
easy. It disguises
the pitfalls and deludes you into thinking that they don't matter. But they do.'

‘Does that mean that you won't even try?'

‘You see I've done it twice now. Love is not enough, David. It simply isn't. It doesn't overcome all the obstacles and make up for everything. Twice I thought it would. It's taken me years to learn to live alone. To risk it—me—all again is a luxury I simply can't afford.'

‘You're so certain it won't work? Do you love me at all?' David saw that her eyes pleaded with him to let her off the hook but he gazed back, inexorably waiting for his answer.

‘I don't see how it can.' She avoided the second question. ‘You in London, me here. I hate cities. You'd be bored rigid in the country. I can imagine a sort of friendship . . . '

‘No, no. That won't do,' David interrupted ruthlessly. ‘I agree with you that for us it's all or nothing but not necessarily straight off. Many people I know weekend very happily. Why not us?'

‘It's a half life. I've done it. I don't want that.'

David sighed. ‘I'm only suggesting it as a compromise to begin with. I'm thinking of taking things easier. A sort of semi-retirement . . . '