Man of the Trees (13 page)

She gave a large sigh and jumped out of bed, impatient with herself. She had work to do. By the time she had dressed and had some breakfast Ross would have left the house either for his office or to do his rounds of the Beat.

Ruth realised as she left the house that she had rushed away the previous night without bringing her handbag in which she always kept the front door key. Would she find herself locked out? She hoped Ross would have left the back door unlocked for her. The last thing she wanted to do was go to his office or have to go in search of him on the Beat.

What she did not expect was that he would be waiting for her when she arrived at the house she still thought of as home. He was sitting in his—by now—usual armchair, smoking his pipe and looking through some papers. She felt an odd contraction of her stomach muscles and wanted to go to him and—She pulled herself up sharply.

Ross took his pipe from his mouth. ‘Hello. I thought I’d better hang on until you got here. I discovered your handbag on the kitchen table, and guessed that your key would be inside.’

‘You—needn’t have waited. You could have left the back door unlocked for me.’

He put his pipe in the ashtray on the table and slid his papers into his briefcase.

‘Oh, no,’ he said decisively. ‘Unlike you, I don’t think a house should be left with a door unlocked. I think you should lock the back door when you’re tucked away in your studio, too. Anyone could just walk in here—’

‘As you do.’

‘Exactly.’ He heaved his length out of the armchair. ‘I knock, I call out, but you never hear. As I was about to say, anyone could just walk in—and walk right out again having helped themselves to anything.’

‘I’ve told you, I’ve nothing worth stealing,’ she said defensively.

‘That’s what they all say—people who go out and leave doors unlocked and downstairs windows open. Then one day, someone breaks in or walks in and—bingo!—they’re minus their television set or their stereo. Or even their carpets and furniture.’

She felt he was lecturing her, and could have hit him.

‘Mr. Hamilton—’ she began.

‘Oh, let’s not be so formal,’ he said mockingly. ‘The name is Ross—remember?’

She chose to ignore his remark. ‘Mr. Hamilton,’ she reiterated, ‘I have lived here since I was fifteen, and never in all that time has anyone at anytime walked in here and taken anything—in spite of doors and windows being left opened and unlocked. I have friends who drop in to see me from time to time when I’m working. If they knock on the door or ring the bell and call out and I don’t answer they know where to find me. It’s always been that way and while I’m here alone in the house it’s going to stay that way. If
you
have any valuables you think will be in danger of being stolen, I suggest you lock them away somewhere. And now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go up and get on with my work.’

She turned to go out of the room, feeling that she had definitely scored. But she was not going to be allowed to get away with it, it seemed. In a couple of long, easy strides, he reached her side and pulled her round to face him.

‘You’ll keep these doors locked while you’re up aloft if I have to lock you in myself. Then my valuables
will
be safe, won’t they?’ He grabbed her by the shoulders and his dark eyes seemed to bore into hers. Ruth met his gaze wide-eyed, and with all her heart she wanted him to kiss her, but she gritted her teeth against the thought. She was not going to let him do this to her, make her want his kisses and to feel his arms about her. ‘I don’t want to come home and find my property has even been touched, do you hear?’

She glared at him and wrenched herself out of his grasp. ‘You’ve got no property here,’ she flung at him. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, the television, the stereo, the carpets and the furniture are mine.’ She ran to the foot of the stairs, but he was after her in a flash.

‘You little firebrand! I’ll tame you yet. In fact, if I had the time I’d chase you right up there and make you beg for mercy.’

She ran up the stairs. ‘If you dare lay another finger on me I’ll send for the police and have you arrested!’ she almost shouted.

He laughed. ‘Believe me, by the time you got around to that it would be too late for what I’d like to do with you.’

Ruth fled to the bathroom, the only door in the house which could be locked. For good measure, she put her back to the door listening for sounds of any activity. She heard the back door slam and a few moments later the engine of his car roared as he drove off.

Ruth let out a long sigh. What an incredible man, what an aggravating, fascinating—

She shrugged off her thoughts impatiently and unlocked the bathroom door. Perhaps now she could go and get on with some work. Lock the back door indeed! She never had, and she was not going to start now. What valuables, what property had he here, for goodness’ sake? She went out on to the landing and hesitated outside his bedroom door. It would be interesting to find out. Gingerly, she turned the knob and the door opened. He couldn’t have locked it, anyway. So far as she knew there was no key. She stepped inside cautiously, as though she quite expected him to be there. Anyway, she told herself, perhaps his bed needed making. Presumably she would still have his room to clean and dust along with the rest of the house—though she had no cleaning routine.

But his bed was neatly made and the room tidy—certainly more than could be said for her own room. Despising herself, yet compelled by an overwhelming curiosity, she opened the door of the large built-in wardrobe. There were several suits, a number of pairs of slacks and tweed jackets, all of good fine material. She ran her fingers down the material of one of the suits, then withdrew her hand sharply, not trusting the ridiculous feelings of warm tenderness which rose from somewhere in the depths of her heart. She shut the door quickly. Perhaps his clothes were what he called his property.

Coming to her senses, she went out of the room swiftly. She had no right to be there without his permission. No right at all.

She climbed up into her studio, still thinking about the man whom she had declared she would never think twice about, at whose feet she would never worship.

The whole of the morning she grappled with her thoughts as she tried to complete one of her pictures. Drat the man! Why couldn’t she get him out of her mind? The sooner she found another place the better. At lunch time she would have a good look at the local paper and try once again. Perhaps she could take a second look at some of the places she had turned down.

She was just becoming aware that she was hungry when she heard a tremendous banging coming from the kitchen door. Wondering who in the world it could be, she went downstairs to find the back door locked—and the key missing.

‘Who is it?’ she called out.

‘It’s me—Gareth. What on earth have you got the door locked for?’

Ross, she thought angrily. He had had the nerve to lock the door and take the key with him. And he had the spare front door key.

‘Go round to the front, Gareth’! she called. ‘I’ll let you in from there.’

When she opened the door, which had a yale lock, Gareth eyed her in astonishment. ‘What the deuce is going on?’

Ruth sighed and shook her head. ‘I had a lecture this morning from his lordship—’

‘From Hamilton?’

She nodded. ‘Telling me I should lock the back door when I’m working.’

‘And you let him dictate to you—just like that?’

She stamped into the kitchen. ‘No, not just like that.’

‘But you’ve never yet locked the door. Why start now?’

‘I didn’t know it
was
locked,’ she told him with emphasis. ‘Not until I heard you hammering. He must have locked it, and taken the key with him while I was upstairs.’

‘But—but it’s preposterous! He thinks he can order everybody around. Really, if he doesn’t go soon, then I’ll have to. The New Forest isn’t big enough to hold both of us.’

‘Oh, really, Gareth, aren’t you exaggerating? And have you eaten?’ she added swiftly.

He sighed heavily. ‘Yes, I’ve eaten. I just dropped in for a coffee, if that’s all right.’

‘You know it is.’ She made a cheese sandwich for herself and two mugs of instant coffee. ‘Here,’ she said, pushing one over to him. ‘Come into the living room and calm down. I’m afraid Ross Hamilton is something we’ll have to learn to live with.’

‘What?’ he almost yelled.

‘Don’t be silly. You know what I mean.’

He glowered and sat down in the chair used now by Ross. ‘I know what you mean all right, but I’ve no intention of putting up with him a moment longer than I have to.’

Ruth frowned. ‘But, Gareth, you don’t seriously mean you’d leave—just because you don’t like him?’

‘I’ve told you,’ he said doggedly, ‘I can’t stand the man. Either he goes or I do.’

‘But he won’t leave, you know that. He’s only just arrived. It’s silly to talk like that.’

‘Is it?’

She couldn’t understand his reasoning. ‘Gareth, has something else happened on the Beat to make you talk like this?’

He shrugged. ‘Things are happening all the time. I think even the D.O. is suspicious. I’ve never seen him on the Pinewood Beat so often.’

‘But what else has happened?’

‘Oh, damage to saplings, increasing number of rabbits, and increasing damage by deer—that sort of thing.’ He put down his mug of coffee and noticed Ross’s pipe in the deep ashtray. ‘So he’s a pipe smoker, is he?’

‘Didn’t you know?’

Gareth picked up the pipe and looked at the rough-hewn bowl. ‘I’ve never seen him smoking it in the Forest, at any rate. But whether he does when he’s on his own I wouldn’t know. Or how many pipes he has, seeing that he’s left this behind.’ He examined the scroll design on the bowl. ‘Unusual. Looks almost a hand-made affair.’

Unusual. Like its owner, Ruth thought, but picked up the morning’s paper impatiently. Talk about not worshiping at his feet! That was precisely what she was in danger of doing.

‘Looking down the property market columns?’ enquired Gareth, putting the pipe down again.

Ruth nodded. ‘Maybe I’ve been too choosy. I know some of the places I saw seemed too small, but I must find somewhere even if I have to sell half the furniture. All I really need is a room where I can work, one big enough to hold a single bed and another that will take the piano if nothing else. I can always eat my meals off it,’ she finished with an attempt at some kind of humour, although underlying this was a strong determination to find a place of her own in which she could live and work, heartbreaking though it was to leave this house where she had been so happy.

But Gareth did not appreciate her wry humour. He frowned. ‘Oh, Ruth, why don’t you—’

She shook her head swiftly. ‘Don’t say it, Gareth. I’ve quite made up my mind. I don’t want to marry anyone—at least not for a long while yet. All I want is to be left alone to get on with my work,’ she ended somewhat fiercely.

‘And you think marriage would interfere with that?’ Gareth queried.

‘It might.’

‘Not if you married me.’

Ruth gripped the newspaper tightly. She knew a sudden desire to cry, and couldn’t understand either that or the pain and hurt feeling somewhere deep inside her. She ran her eyes down the properties for sale without answering him, and hoped he would let the subject drop.

‘Ah, here’s one,’ she said suddenly. ‘It’s a two up and two down terrace house, the price well within my range.’

‘Let me see.’

Gareth left his chair and came to look over her shoulder. Ruth pointed it out, and Gareth gave an exclamation.

‘You can’t go there. For goodness’ sake, Ruth, I know those houses. They front right on to the street and there’s no garden. You want a house where you can see the Forest.’

‘But they’re all so expensive.’

Gareth put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Ruthie, put that paper down and listen to me—’

She looked at him, her eyes pleading with him not to mention marriage again. She didn’t know why, but the subject was somehow painful to her. She didn’t want to keep hurting Gareth, but she was not in love with him.

There must have been something in her look which reached out to Gareth. His lips sought hers at the same time as a dark shape appeared at the patio window. It was Ross.

Gareth saw him, too, just as Ross turned away. ‘Damn!’ he muttered. ‘This is what it will always be like now while this situation lasts.’

Feeling extremely discomfited, Ruth opened the patio window and called out to Ross as he was walking away.

‘It’s all right, you can come in if you want to.’

He turned, a scornful expression around his mouth. ‘Far be it for me to interrupt anything. I only dropped in for a coffee.’

‘I’ll make you one.’

‘Ruth, for Pete’s sake—’ came Gareth’s voice from inside.

Ross appeared not to have heard. ‘All right,’ he said, and retraced his steps.

Ruth watched him as he walked, loosed-limbed and casual. The pain she had felt when Gareth had been talking had gone, and in its place was a strange lightness. When they entered the living room Gareth had disappeared and the next moment she heard the front door slam.