Peacock's Walk (15 page)

Jenny said nothing, but nodded dumbly. It was as good as anywhere else, and it would please Tony

and Dodie. It was also far enough away from Brighton to ensure her a certain amount of peace, company-wise, anyway, for she could expect very little inner peace.

BELLE VUE, in Branksome, Dorset, was a large Victorian-looking house that stood at the end of a tree-lined avenue and was one of several residences of the same proportions. All, as far as Jenny could see from the inside of the taxi that took her to her destination, catered for the tourist trade, judging by the signboards placed by the drives that led to the houses.

Branksome was two miles from Bournemouth, and as Tony had intimated, was considered to be one of the more select areas outside the busy popular resort.

The board outside Belle Vue stated that it possessed a licensed restaurant, and was open to nonresidents for evening meals, and as Jenny pressed the bell just inside the glass-panelled hallway, she tried to recall all that Tony had told her about his sister.

To her past recollection, Jenny did not think that she had ever met her, and until Tony had mentioned that she ran a boarding house, she had even forgotten that. It was not really surprising, since Tony hardly ever spoke about his private life. Peacock's

Walk had been home for him for so many years that the outside world had taken second place.

Hotel life, Jenny mused, as she saw someone approaching behind the glass door in front of her, was akin to living on board a ship. It was a world within a world, and once one became enmeshed in the life, no other occupation seemed acceptable. There was laughter, sorrow, and the inevitable drama, all enacted in front of you as if on a life-sized screen, only they didn't have to queue up to watch it, it was part and parcel of their job.

As the door opened, her questing eyes met two merry brown ones of a plump, matronly-looking woman, who was so like Tony that she couldn't be anyone else but Mrs Seaton, his sister.

'You're Jenny!' she exclaimed, as she held out a welcoming hand to her. 'You won't remember me, but I did meet you when you were about five years old! ' Her twinkling eyes sobered a little as she went on, 'I haven't seen Tony for almost as long. That's the worst of both being in the same business. He keeps in touch by letter, of course, so at least I know he's all right. He rang and told me to expect you. I've strict instructions to see that you get a good rest,' she added, as she picked up Jenny's case and swept her into the house.

When Jenny unpacked a short while later, she wondered what else Tony had told his sister, for there had been a certain amount of sympathy in Mrs Seaton's eyes as she had chatted to Jenny while showing her round the house. Before leaving her, Mrs Seaton instructed her to ask for anything she

required, in a way that suggested that whatever she needed would be supplied, and Jenny gratefully acknowledged the fact that Tony's sister intended to give her the best possible service during her stay.

This was underlined the following morning when she ventured down to breakfast and found that a table had been reserved for her in a small alcove in the dining room, and as it was a single table, it ensured her privacy against intrusion during her stay.

There were, of course, other guests, and as Jenny had seen on her tour, the boarding house comprised six bedrooms, two of which had been taken, and the rest, Mary Seaton had told her, were booked for the season. Many of her visitors returned year after year, and friendships started by her guests during their stay were renewed annually.

The smiling waitress who served her breakfast also brought her a small pamphlet that gave Jenny an insight into just where Branksome was on the local map, and the places worthy of a visit. Branksome Chine appeared to be the local beauty spot, and Jenny resolved to take a walk there after breakfast, and took careful note of the route shown on the map.

Her decision to visit the Chine was heartily endorsed by Mary, who popped in to see her as she was finishing her breakfast.

'Look out for the squirrels as you go through the wood,' she told Jenny. 'I know they're considered pests, but the place wouldn't be the same without them.'

It turned out that Jenny hadn't really needed to
memorize
the route to the Chine, as a signpost at the end of the avenue indicated the way, and all she had to do was take a slight upward track off the main road that led directly to the Chine.

As it was reasonably early in the morning, there were as yet not many people about, and she was able to savour the peace around her. The morning was a bright sunny one, and promised to be a warm day, even though summer had not yet made its appearance felt. Spring, though, had a charm of its own, Jenny thought as her eyes alighted upon the new bright green shoots of the trees awakening once again to the call of spring.

It was a time of new beginnings, and her throat constricted at the thought. A new beginning for her, too; she had got over heartbreak once, and she would again. But this time she would face it squarely, not push it to the back of her mind and pretend that she had never cared much for Mark anyway. As he had not forgiven her, so she had not forgiven him. It was the real reason why she had not shown him Malcolm's letter—no matter what else she had tried to tell herself.

At the end of the track in front of her, she could see the glint of the water as it ran down the steep cleft of the hills that overlooked the sea. The rivulets of water passed down the hillside and were flanked on either side by woods that gave the Chine a shaded, almost magical atmosphere, and for a few minutes Jenny stood entranced, watching the sunlight playing on the water, and darting in and out

of the evergreens surrounding the Chine.

A sudden movement in one of the trees to her left drew her attention from the Chine, and to her delight she watched the squirrel that had broken its cover swing from tree to tree in effortless ease. Soon it was joined by other squirrels and the silent wood became alive with its furry inhabitants, all busy in their search for food.

With a sigh of partial envy at their carefree existence, Jenny continued her walk through the wood, now following a track that ran up the hillside, until she came to the top, from where she could see the sea stretched out to the horizon before her.

In a way it reminded her of Devil's Dyke, for there had been the same climb up to the view, and the same framing of trees through which one caught the first glimpse of the sea. The difference lay in the actual view at the top of the hill. Here, one could only see the sea, but at Devil's Dyke there had been the added panorama of the Sussex coast.

Not, she reminded herself hastily, that the difference detracted any of the beauty away from the scene before her eyes, and she wished miserably that she hadn't thought of Devil's Dyke, because it brought her thoughts back to Mark and Dilys.

Mark would marry Dilys, of that she was now certain. The smile he had given her proved that they had come to an understanding, and it could only be marriage. Dilys was not likely to settle for anything less, not when she was willing to withstand his fury rather than release him.

Jenny stared out to sea, hardly feeling the stiff

breeze that played on her face and ruffled her fair hair. With misty eyes she went back to the time that Mark had proposed again to her. What would he have done if she had accepted his proposal? He would have married her—of that she had no doubt whatever. There would have been no reprieve for either of them: The pressure of his fingers on her arm had told her this.

She blinked to clear the mist that had formed over her eyes. She would have then been in the same situation as Dilys was in now. On the surface it would have looked as though he had forgiven her, but he would never forget what had gone before. As far as Jenny was concerned, he wasn't the only one who couldn't forget. Of the two of them, she was the more to blame, because she had had the opportunity to put things right again, and if she had married him, the knowledge would have hung like a cloud over her until she had told him about the letter. There would have been slim chance of a 'happy ever after' ending after that.

As unhappy as she was, Jenny had to admit she had got off lightly. She might have lost her heart, but her pride was still intact—the pride that had taken such a hammering two years ago, when she was made to feel a wanton by Mark's insinuations after the reading of Malcolm's will. Her small firm chin lifted slightly at the memory; she had since picked up the pieces, and she would do so again, no matter how long it took. The future was something she simply would not think about—not then, anyway; later perhaps when she was able to think more

clearly without the intrusion of memories she wanted to forget.

Her attempts to put a strong rein on her thoughts were undermined each morning when her eye caught a copy of The Times that was usually to be found on a small side table in the dining room. Invariably, as if of its own volition, her hand would reach out and pick it up from the table as she passed on the way to her table for breakfast.

After a swift glance at the headlines, she would then turn to the engagements column, dreading, yet half hopeful of finding the announcement of Mark and Dilys's engagement, and just in case it was under the 'Forthcoming Marriages' section, she studied that too.

It was a ritual she carried out each day, and when she was satisfied that as yet no announcement had been made, she was able to settle to her breakfast and plan her day with a feeling of strange relief that was at variance with her inner argument that once she saw the announcement she could relax and get on with her life again. In actual fact, however, she found herself relaxing only when no such announcement was found.

From then on, the Chine was Jenny's favourite haunt. There were enough different walks around it for her to explore, and she never tired of the views that were enhanced by the glimpses of the sparkling sea through the bright green foliage of the woods around the Chine.

She had been at Belle Vue for three days when she received a letter from Tony, and she had ex-

perienced an uneasy feeling in her stomach when she first saw the letter propped up against the condiment set on her table, only relaxing when she recognised Tony's spidery handwriting.

After enquiring after her health and hoping she was enjoying the good sea air and getting plenty of rest, he went on to give her the latest news of Peacock's Walk. The decorators were now in and making life tedious all round with their comings and goings. Mr Chanter had decided to make use of their presence and have the whole place done while they were at it. It was as well, he wrote, that she was away, as they were starting the office section the following Monday.

Dodie, he told her, sent her love, and hoped to hear from her soon. The young madam had left for the States with the declared intention of buying her trousseau—at least, Tony had added sceptically, that was what she had said, but going by a certain person's temperament these days, he suspected there had been another reason for her abrupt departure from the scene.

He concluded with the message that they were all missing her, underlining the word all, leaving Jenny with a distinct feeling that he was trying to tell her something!

When Jenny started out that morning on her usual ramble through the Chine, she was not to know that within an hour or so she would be catapulted back into the very situation she had fled from, and this time there would be no running away.

ALTHOUGH the morning had started off with a few clouds in the sky, by the time Jenny had walked past the Chine and up towards the cliffs overlooking the sea, the sun had peeped out giving a promise of a warm day to come, and she felt at peace with life.

Tony's letter had done much to relieve her inner tension and somehow she felt things would work out—how, she couldn't have said—but the thought that Dilys had gone back home made her suspect that she had come to her senses at last. It would be just a matter of time before the whole embarrassing incident was forgotten:

In all probability, it was Silas Hawter who had forced the issue, she mused, for Dilys was extremely fond of her uncle, and losing not only Mark's goodwill but his, too, must have been more than she could take. It was obvious from Tony's letter that the understanding that Jenny had thought Mark and. Dilys had come to had been very
short lived
. Perhaps Mark had tried a new approach and found that it hadn't worked, so had reverted back to the polar regions of their friendship.

When she reached the top of the hill, Jenny slipped off her light coat and folded it into a soft cushion shape to sit on. The ground was slightly damp from the previous evening's dew, but would soon be dried out by the sun now shining down in warm rays, and Jenny held her head back to feel the warmth on her face.

'Shame on you, running off like that and leaving your man in the lurch! ' said a voice close by.

Jenny's startled eyes met Silas's sober brown ones as she turned towards him, and with a kind of amazed dumbness she watched as he mopped his brow with a handkerchief he took from his breast pocket before settling himself down beside her.

'I'm getting too old for this kind of
caper ! ' he said drily, as he h
ad himself comfortable.