Man of the Trees (16 page)

Oddly enough, she did not see either Gareth or Ross for several days. Each morning when she arrived at the Forester’s house Ross had already left, and she told herself she was glad. Each evening she made herself leave well before he was expected home. Gareth did not call either at the house or at Mrs. Smith’s. Ruth felt in some kind of limbo in which she dreamed constantly of Ross and hovered between misery and a golden haze of being in love.

Gareth called to see her on the Friday evening before the Club dance to which he had asked her to go.

‘Sorry I haven’t been able to get to see you the last few days,’ he told her. ‘We’ve been extra busy. You know what it’s like when the weather’s dry and there are hordes of holidaymakers and trippers in the Forest Hugh has been off work for a day or two as well. He hurt his back—but he’s all right now.’

He sounded odd, over-bright and unconvincing. ‘That’s all right, Gareth,’ she told him. ‘I’ve been busy, too.’

‘That’s all right, then. And how’re you getting on with friend Hamilton? Moved into that house of his yet?’

‘You said to let you know when I was going to move and you’d help me,’ she reminded him.

‘Yeah, yeah, I did, of course,’ he said swiftly. ‘But I thought as I hadn’t seen you for a day or two, and if he was in a hurry to get you out of the Forestry house, he might have helped you.’

‘I would hardly have moved without letting you know,’ she pointed out mildly, wondering what was wrong with him. His general attitude seemed so odd. ‘Actually,’ she went on, ‘I’ve hardly seen Ross for the past few days. I’ve—avoided him rather.’

Gareth’s eyes widened. ‘Good, I’m glad to hear it. I was half afraid he might win you over.’

‘Win me over?’ she reiterated. ‘What on earth do you mean?’

‘Well, you know. You didn’t like him at one time, but I thought you seemed to be getting friendly with him. I notice you call him Ross.’

‘But surely you don’t expect me to go on calling him Mr. That’s ridiculous!’

‘It slips off your tongue so easily, that’s all.’

Ruth closed her eyes momentarily, then opened them again with a sigh. ‘Let’s talk about something else,’ she pleaded. ‘Are we still going to the Club dance tomorrow?’

‘Of course. That’s really what I came to see you about—among other things, such as just to see you. If you’re still in the Forestry house, I insist on calling for you. You remember what happened last time you drove yourself?’

‘Well, yes, but if you’re a car driver, that kind of thing can happen at any time.’

She couldn’t help recalling that night, how Ross had picked her up, made her take off her wet things and made her a hot drink. That was the first time he had taken her in his arms and kissed her too. How badly she had wanted to put her arms about his neck and kiss him passionately. She had been in love with him then, of course, without realising it. But why had he kissed her? Not because he had any fondness for her, she thought, with a painful twist of her heart. Perhaps because he had been angry with her. She had told him—and at the thought of it she told herself ironically that she must have been mad—that she would not marry him if he were the last man on earth. If he were to ask her now—even in jest—she would not say no.

‘Well, I don’t want it happening again.’

Gareth’s voice brought her out of the mist of her private world with a start.

‘What?’ She gave him a blank look. ‘Don’t want what happening again?’ she asked as he repeated what he had said.

He sighed and shook his head at her. ‘I’m not having you break down—or risking it—at that hour of night again. It’s too dangerous.’

At any other time Ruth would have appreciated his concern, but now she didn’t want his caring. All she wanted was Ross.

Ruth had been in the habit of not painting on Saturdays, but using at least the mornings to clean up the house. Should she go along as usual? she wondered the following morning. She decided she had better, even though she was torn two ways about meeting Ross, as Saturday was not a working day for the Forestry personnel normally. But she really ought to start putting her belongings together for the move, in any case, as Ross had said he wanted her to rent the new house.

She went along, and found the house silent and empty. All was clean and tidy in the kitchen and living room, and she couldn’t help wondering who had been doing the housework. She herself had not done a great deal during the week. She never did when she was working. Had Ross done it himself? Or worse still, had Linda been in? Housework was not Linda’s favourite occupation, Ruth felt sure of that, but if she were going to marry Ross and he hadn’t yet found any domestic help—

With a heavy heart she went up to her studio and began to wrap up her finished canvasses and tidy up in general. She wondered whether Ross would be going to the Club dance, but realised that even if he did, he would be with Linda.

Presently, she heard the slam of a car door, then as she paused in her task to listen, she heard his key in the lock and the front door open and close. She half expected him to come up and find her, as her own car was standing outside, but he didn’t. She carried on for a little while, deliberately making a noise at times in the hope that he would come up to find out what she was doing, but it was no use. Then at last she heard his footsteps on the stairs and with bated breath and a longing that was almost a pain she waited for him to climb the steps up to her studio. When he didn’t she concluded he had gone into his room.

Unable to concentrate any longer, Ruth went down to the bedroom level. His door was closed. She hesitated for a moment or two, then knocked.

“Ross, would you like a coffee?’ she called out.

She expected him to open the door, but he didn’t. He called out in a distant voice: ‘Thanks. Be down in a few minutes.’

Ruth went downstairs and made the coffee and put out some biscuits and cheese, but still Ross did not come down. She called upstairs, but there was no reply. Fearing the coffee might become cold, she went upstairs and knocked on his door again. This time he called to her to come in.

He was standing at the window gazing out on to the Forest and did not move even when she entered. Ruth approached him almost timidly.

‘Coffee’s ready, Ross,’ she said.

‘Thanks,’ he answered without looking at her.

Ruth looked at his face. There were tense lines around his mouth and his dark brows were knit in a frown.

‘Is—is there anything wrong?’ she asked.

‘Hm?’ He turned then and looked at her almost as though he did not recognise her. Then he sighed and the lines of tension on his face eased a little. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something wrong somewhere. I’ve just done a round of the most vulnerable places, I’ve been keeping the men busy cutting and trimming the rides, I’ve had brashing done and made sure it’s all collected up. I’ve detailed men to keep a particular eye on the plantations, but still—’

‘It’s the fire risk you’re worried about? But you must be well used to that. It’s a continuous hazard, especially at this time of the year and when the weather is dry.’

He nodded, then suddenly turned to look at her. ‘Of course. Let’s go down and have that coffee.’

They went downstairs and neither spoke until they were seated with their drinks. Ross was still preoccupied, and Ruth was acutely aware of him, reaching out to him with all her mind and heart, wanting to go over to him, to touch him. But she did not even trust herself to sit on the hearthrug, and wished she had taken the drinks out on to the lawn.

‘Haven’t seen anything of you for a few days,’ Ross said suddenly. ‘What’ve you been doing?’

“The usual. Painting.’

‘And what else? Been seeing Gareth?’

‘Well, I—’

‘I suppose he’s taking you to the Club dance tonight?’ he said without looking at her.

‘Er—yes. Are you going?’

‘Possibly. What were you doing up in your attic just now?’

‘Gathering some of my things together.’

‘What for?’

She gave a puzzled frown. ‘Getting ready to move out, of course.’

‘Oh, that. Well, there’s no hurry,’ he said absently. Ruth began to wonder if he and Linda had quarrelled or something. Either that, or he was extremely worried about the things that had been happening in the Forest recently. Remembering how angry he had been the last time she mentioned things that had been going wrong on his Beat, however, she did not feel she dared do so again.

‘Are things—settled about the house you’re buying?’ she ventured, unable to think of anything else to say.

‘My solicitor is attending to the formalities,’ he answered without looking at her.

He was so distant, so aloof, Ruth began to wonder if she had offended him in any way. She would far rather be quarrelling with him than this cold politeness. Having finished her coffee, she rose, and seeing his cup was empty too, she gathered the things together, and without another word took them out. She was passing the telephone when it began to ring. She put the tray down and lifted the receiver.

‘Oh, Ross darling—’ came a feminine voice before Ruth had time to say as much as ‘hello’. Her grip on the receiver tightened.

‘It’s—Ruth Medway here. I’ll get him for you,’ she said in a hollow voice as she realised it was Linda at the other end.

‘Ruth? Oh, you’re still around, are you? I’d have thought you’d be gone by now. Well, get Ross for me, will you?’

Feeling as though she had received a slap in the face, Ruth called Ross, then went through into the kitchen. She rinsed the cups quickly and left them to drain. She just wanted to get back to the privacy of her studio. She rushed past Ross as he listened intently to what Linda was saying, and ran up the stairs. Once in her studio she wept as though her heart would break. Vaguely, she heard a faint tinkle as Ross replaced the telephone receiver, then the slam of the front door followed by his car engine revving up. He had gone without so much as calling up to tell her he was going, and at the realisation afresh that he cared little or nothing for her, a renewed sense of desolation engulfed her.

In a desultory sort of way, Ruth continued with her sorting out and packing, keeping one ear open for sounds of Ross’s return, yet knowing the futility of harbouring any sort of hope of his ever caring for her. Lunchtime came and went, but there was no sign of him. He was having lunch with Linda, of course, she tormented herself. He had dashed out to meet her this morning. Perhaps they had been looking at furniture against the time when she herself moved out and he married Linda.

Reluctantly, as evening drew near and there was still no sign of him, Ruth returned to her lodgings. Gareth was calling for her at seven. First, they were going out to a meal, then on to the Club dance. Once or twice she was tempted to plead a headache or something of that nature, but Gareth would come round just the same and would see through her ruse.

Ruth did not much care what she wore to the dance that night. The first thing she put her hand on was one of her own creation—a patchwork cotton skirt in all shades of blue and white. But she avoided a white top and picked instead one in pale blue which was not really her colour.

It was not easy to hide the feeling that her heart was slowly breaking, but to save Gareth and Jill asking her questions she did not want to answer, Ruth tried.

‘Well, I’m glad you’re cheering up at last,’ Gareth commented as they danced later on. ‘You’ve certainly been somewhat down in the dumps lately.’

She laughed. ‘Well, life’s too short to be miserable for long.’

Ross had not at that point put in an appearance, but half an hour later she saw him, along with Linda.

It was during an interval for refreshments that the air was rent with the sound all forestry people dreaded—the wail of a fire siren.

Immediately there was a concerted rush to the door by a number of the Forest workers. Ruth gave Gareth a startled glance.

‘I’m not on call unless it’s serious,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait for news to come through.’

Her eyes flicked around the room for Ross, but he was not there. She could not see Linda, either.

Gareth said: ‘If it’s Ross Hamilton you’re looking for, he went out with Linda about five minutes ago, so goodness knows where he is.’

Ruth felt she hated Gareth, and almost choked on the sandwich she was eating. The atmosphere was tense as those remaining in the club room waited for news to come through about the fire. When the telephone did ring there was complete silence as the steward answered it.

‘It’s a false alarm,’ he said when he replaced the receiver. ‘There was smoke seen, but there’s no sign of a fire.’

‘Thank the Lord for that,’ said Hugh.

Gareth remained silent, and Ruth thought vaguely that there was something very odd in his manner—as if he was not all that concerned whether there was a fire or not

The atmosphere in the Club began to relax. Then suddenly on the night air came the heart-lurching sound once again of the fire siren.

‘My God!’ came from Hugh.

Her first thoughts for Ross, Ruth felt her whole body become taut and her stomach muscles tightened painfully. Then, almost immediately, the telephone rang again. It was a real fire this time—and on Ross’s Beat. There was a dash for the door from practically everyone in the Club, and when they spilled out on to the car park the whole sky was already aflame.