Man of the Trees (10 page)

At the top of the cliffs leading down to the beach there was a hotel and a restaurant, a bar and gift shops. They stood and admired some of the many really unique souvenirs made out of the colourful sand—beautiful swans in multi-coloured stripes, vases of every conceivable shape and size, bowls, ashtrays and other domestic articles.

‘Maybe we can buy a memento of our visit on the way back,’ suggested Ross, and Ruth happily agreed.

There were two ways of descending the steep cliffs, by a series of wooden steps or by chair lift. They elected to walk down and perhaps use the chair lift for the upwards return. They began the winding descent, stopping every now and then to look at the wonderful view, and about half way down they could see the Needles, standing out at the tip of the island.

‘Curious, aren’t they?’ murmured Ross. ‘I suppose they
are
rather like needles.’

‘Yes. But there was one particular rock—thinner than the rest. It was called ‘Lot’s Wife’. That one was about a hundred and twenty feet high, and it did look just like a needle, so I’ve read. But now there’s only the stump. The ‘needle’ crashed into the sea way back in about the middle of the eighteenth century.’

‘Interesting. But they look pretty treacherous, too. Wasn’t there a ship which came to grief somewhere around the end of the war?’

‘Yes. My father told me about it. 1947, I think it was.’

They continued down and were soon on the beach with its shimmering, multi-coloured sands. Ross gazed up at the sheer cliffs with their sharp serrations and said he had never seen anything like it in his life.

‘We should have brought some little bags with us to take samples,’ he said.

‘Ruth laughed. ‘Well, if you’re interested, you can buy it “dry-sifted” from up top. Pick where you like in little tubes.’

He looked at her laughing face, and her heart missed a beat. Then suddenly he drew her towards him and kissed her. It was the most devastating experience, and her whole body responded in a way entirely new to her. When he let her go she felt herself trembling visibly.

‘That’s for looking so pretty,’ he said. He took her hand and looked towards the sea where one or two children were playing with buckets and spades. ‘Do you think it’s warm enough for a swim?’

‘We—we can try it,’ she answered breathlessly.

He glanced around for somewhere to change. ‘You go into the crevice,’ he said, pointing to a cleft in the rocks, ‘and I’ll stand with my back to you and keep a look out. Then you can do the same for me.’

Making a tent out of one of the large towels with a safety pin, Ruth turned to face the cliffs and manoeuvred her clothes off and into her bikini. She took out the other towel and the trunks she had brought for Ross, and rolling up her clothes in her slacks, put them in the duffel bag. Still keeping the towel clutched around herself for some reason, she turned.

‘O.K. Now it’s your turn,’ she told him.

He smiled as he saw the way she was holding on to her towel.

‘What’s the matter? Got a fit of modesty?’

‘No, keeping warm,’ she retorted.

Not for anything would she admit to a feeling of shyness which had possessed her.

In a very short space of time he was ready and had put his clothes in the duffel bag along with hers.

‘Come on, away with that towel. A modern young woman like you pretending to be shy!’ He unfastened the pin and removed the protective towel and ran his eyes appreciatively over her figure. ‘Very, very nice. I’ve often wondered what you look like under those jeans and the sloppy sweaters you wear.’

‘Like any other woman,’ she retorted, hoping her cheeks were not as pink as they felt. Why should she feel this way with him? After all, it was not as though she were naked.

He smiled and rolled up her towel, stuffing it in the duffel bag.

‘Can you swim?’ he asked.

‘Of course. Can you?’

He raised his eyebrows as if surprised at the question. Just like a man, she thought to herself. And certainly just Ross Hamilton. Question his ability in any way? How could she? How could anyone?

‘I’ll race you to the water line,’ she said, and set off without waiting to see whether he agreed or not.

At first she thought he had ignored her suggestion, then she heard the soft pad of his footsteps, and his legs being a great deal longer than hers, he caught her up just as she reached the water. He grabbed her around the waist almost before he had stopped running, and the weight of his body caused her to stumble. They fell together into the water, and as the first shock of what seemed like ice-cold water hit her warm body Ruth gasped and let out a tiny squeal. Ross let out a ‘Wow!’, then laughed and began to splash the sea water over her.

‘It’s better this way. G
ets you acclimatised much more quickly.’

‘I’ll say!’ she gasped as her skin tingled all over.

She began to splash him, too, and for a few minutes they laughed and splashed away like a couple of children. His body was firm and smooth and without blemish. Ruth found she had to resist strongly a desire to touch him, to run her fingers up his arms and across the hard width of his shoulders. The tide was coming in, and all at once they were almost engulfed by a sizeable wave. Ross got to his feet and pulled her up with him until they were knee-deep, with another breaker coming towards them. They met it up to their waists, then Ross struck out to meet the third.

For a few minutes Ruth watched him as his powerful shoulders moved rhythmically in the crawl. She might have known he would be good. She struck out a little away from him, thrusting upwards to meet the next wave, and now she was not aware of the coldness of the sea, only of the exhilaration of swimming. But she grew tired long before he did and retreated to the water’s edge to rest, sitting on the wet sand and letting the water flow over her from each wave.

She watched Ross as he continued to swim, and marvelled that they were having this day out together. A few weeks ago she would not have thought it could happen. She reflected on the business of her moving out of the Head Forester’s house and Ross moving in, and almost wished she had taken him up on his suggestion—whether put seriously or not—that they should share the house. But it was wishful thinking, and even the fact that she was even remotely considering the idea came as a surprise to her. She had not had a narrow upbringing, but she had had a moral one, and most of the people in the New Forest area would frown on such an arrangement. She felt reasonably sure he had only been joking when he had suggested marriage. In any case, when she married, she wanted to marry for love. Love. She contemplated on the word. Had she ever really been in love? she asked herself. Had she ever loved a man enough to want to be with him, day in, day out for the rest of her life?

She was on the point of deciding that she had not when she became aware that Ross was approaching.

‘Had enough?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘For the time being, anyway.’

‘Your first swim this year?’

‘Yes.’

‘In that case, I think enough is enough. I also think a cup of tea would be a good idea.’ He put out his hand to her. ‘Come on. It isn’t all that warm.’

She agreed. She was already beginning to feel goose pimples along her arms. Hand in hand once again they walked back to where they had left the duffel bag. Ross extracted her towel, and to her surprise began to rub her down. Starting with her arms and shoulders he rubbed vigorously, but not too roughly. His administrations gave her a strange sensation, a tingling up and down her spine. It was when he bent to wield the towel up and down her legs that she told him tremulously:

‘Thanks—I’ll do the rest.’

He laughed softly. ‘Afraid of something?’

‘No, I just prefer to dry myself, thank you.’

He relinquished the towel and fished out his own. ‘Pity. I was just beginning to enjoy myself.’

‘I’m sure you were, but I’m not accustomed to such intimacy even if you are.’

He rough-dried his hair, then rubbed at his muscular arms. ‘You must admit it has its merits.’

‘I’m admitting nothing of the kind.’

‘You will one of these days—and I hope I’m around when you do.’

She wrung out her long dark hair and rubbed the dripping ends. ‘There’s not much likelihood of that,’ she told him.

He grinned at her. ‘Don’t be so emphatic! You never know.’

She draped the towel around herself and stripped off her diminutive bikini, then pulled on her clothes. When she turned around she saw him striding towards the children playing with their buckets and spades. He borrowed one of their buckets and dipped it in the sea.

‘I’ve brought some water to wash the sand off of our feet,’ he told her when he returned. ‘Sit on the edge of this rock and I’ll do yours first for you.’

She did as he told her, and he poured the water over her feet and then dried them. The act gave her an odd sensation of being cared for and she felt a rush of feeling towards him that she couldn’t explain. She knew an overwhelming desire to run her fingers through his thick dark hair as he bent to his self-appointed task. She took a deep breath and fairly gritted her teeth. He was doing this deliberately, she told herself. She simply would not succumb to his charms. This was the kind of thing which had earned him his reputation for being such a hit with women.

‘Thank you,’ she said politely when he had finished. ‘Now, you must let me do the same for you.’

He shook his head. ‘You pull your socks on and your shoes. I’ll wash my own feet.’

She shrugged, and pulled on her socks and sandals. When he had returned the child’s bucket they took the chair lift back to the top of the cliff. Ruth had done this a number of times before, but it was always something of a thrill of being airborne, of having a magnificent view of the different colours in the rocks and of the surrounding terrain. When they had had tea, Ross asked her to choose a gift made of the coloured sand, and Ruth chose an ornament in the shape of a graceful, long-necked swan. She looked at the ashtrays, thinking she might buy something for him. After all, he had given her a very good lunch. But she suddenly couldn’t remember ever seeing him smoke. So many Foresters didn’t.

Ruth glanced around to see where he was, and to her utter surprise he was standing just outside the shop actually smoking a pipe. Of course, she had not known him very long, and he could hardly fill a pipe and smoke while he was driving. Or when dancing, for that matter. However, the fact that he did decided her. She chose a large one, deep and wide in the same multi-colour as the swan he had bought for her.

Ross came back into the shop just as she was handing it to the assistant to be wrapped.

‘Gift for a friend?’ he queried.

‘You could say that,’ she answered, having it in mind to present him with the gift at the end of the day. It would be a surprise for him. She liked giving people surprises.

‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ she said to him when they were outside.

‘Only a pipe—and on odd occasions a cigar.’

‘But why didn’t you smoke when we were having our coffee?’

‘I thought you might object. And on such occasions—when I’m out to a meal with a lady—I usually have a small cigar, but I’d run out of them. Being in the kind of job I’m in where a fire can be a disaster, I seldom, if ever, smoke on the job, so I’ve trained myself to go long hours without wanting a pipe. You don’t smoke at all, do you?’

She shook her head. ‘But I don’t mind a man smoking a pipe. Father smoked one, so I’m used to it.’

By the time they had made the return journey to the mainland by the ferry it was seven o’clock.

‘You must be getting hungry,’ said Ross. ‘Shall we find somewhere to eat or would you like to come back to my place? I’m sure my landlady could rustle up something for us, if it’s only the remains of the Sunday joint and some apple pie.’

But Ruth thought he had spent enough money in the way of food for one day, and the idea of the remains of the Sunday joint and stodgy apple pie did not appeal to her at all, nor did his landlady, who was something of a gossip. Besides, she felt like some music.

‘What about
you
coming back with me?’ she countered. ‘I could do you the omelette of your choice with asparagus tips and either chip or croquette potatoes with a choice of dessert such as ice cream with strawberry sauce or fresh fruit, or fruit and cream—’

His laugh interrupted her. ‘Say no more, but lead me to it! Sounds great.’

At home, Ross insisted on helping her with the cooking, each cooking one omelette so that they would be able to sit down to eat together. It was fun, and served to remind Ruth how lonely she had been since the death of her father. She would be equally lonely in any other house, but she tried not to think about it.

While they ate they listened to some music Ruth had put on the record player, and she was struck by the look of sheer pleasure on Ross’s face. She found herself thinking how lovely it could be if they
w
ere to share the house. But it was unthinkable. The sooner she found a place for herself the better.

Ross pronounced the meal ‘out of this world’. ‘Much better than cold meat and pie. Ruth, you’re a genius! You’re the sort of woman men dream of coming home to.’