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GUY FELT A TREMOR of anxiety as he picked up Nell's note and saw her distinctive handwriting. Surely she wasn't crying off! Luckily it was simply to confirm the time. She'd been in such a rush, she wrote, that she wanted to be certain that she'd got it right. Guy sighed with relief. Mary had cheered and encouraged him at lunch
time, as he had guessed she might, and he felt as ready as he would ever be to take the plunge and tell Nell how he felt about her. He was practically ill with terror at the prospect but he was determined to risk it. After all, she could only turn him down. Only! He groaned with frustrated impatience and Bertie looked at him anxiously. Guy caught the look and attempted a smile.
âDon't worry,' he said, somewhat bitterly. âI'm not so far gone that I'm about to forget your dinner.'
Bertie wagged a tentative tail and looked more hopeful at the mention of this magic word. Guy took out the tin-opener and reached for the can of food, feeling glad that he'd stayed later at the office so that he might be able to go out again almost immediately to meet Nell. He knew that if he'd had to sit waiting he might well lose his nerve. It was raining again so Guy shut Bertie in the back of the car and drove along the lane to the Lodge. He tooted loudly and got out but Nell was already letting herself through the little wicket gate. He caught his breath as he glimpsed her face, radiant and glowing, and opened the door for her. As they drove the short distance he was aware of her buoyant air of happiness and his own spirits rose accordingly.
âSo how's it going?' he asked when they'd got their drinks and ordered some supper. âIs it as good as you hoped?'
Not for worlds would he have let her see the disappointment he'd felt when she told him about her opportunity with Elizabeth. There was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't afford to pay her a decent salary and the new job sounded absolutely right for her. He couldn't stand in her way just because he liked to have her around.
âIt's wonderful! I'm really loving it! There's so much to learn â¦'
He watched her glowing eyes, her lips, the shining hair and suddenly took her hand. âNell!'
She stopped mid-sentence and looked at him in surprise. âWhat's the matter?'
âNothing's the matter.' In the face of her beauty and detachment, he
felt his confidence slipping away and made a desperate grab at it. âIt's just â¦' He looked at her despairingly and she looked back puzzled.
âJust ⦠?' she prompted and squeezed his hand encouragingly. âJust what?'
âI think I love you,' he said flatly. âI can't stop thinking about you. It gets between me and everything else. I think I'd like to marry you.'
Nell couldn't prevent a smile, despite her shock.
âYou don't sound terribly sure,' she suggested.
Guy released her hand and glanced round as if surprised to find himself still in the pub. âYou've completely wrong-footed me,' he explained. âI had decided that I would never marry. I haven't got the temperament for it. I'm like my old man and he wasn't made for it either. We're too selfish. But when I met you ⦠Well, all that went out of the window.'
Nell watched him with anxious sympathy. This was the last complication she needed now, when everything seemed to be levelling out. She wondered what she could say that was not unkind. He'd been so good to her and very generous, despite his claims to selfishness. She decided to cheat.
âOh, Guy,' she said. âI feel very touched. I'm terribly fond of you, too, you know that. But the thing is ⦠it's very soon after â¦' She let the words trail away, praying that the inference would be enough. It was.
âI know that' Guy flushed and she felt ashamed. âI didn't mean to be insensitiveâ'
âYou're not,' she said quickly, taking his hand. She couldn't let him take that to himself. âAbsolutely not. I'm probably being morbidly oversensitive but there were so many things.' She shook her head. âI need much more time.'
âOf course.' He shrank instinctively from the thought of confidences or explanations. âI understand that. It's just that things had reached a point where I felt that it was only right to explain how I feel.'
âYou were quite right. Is it terribly selfish of me to want things to go on as they are for a bit longer? I've got so much to deal with at the moment that I'm simply not up to becoming more involved.' This, at least, was certainly true. The thought appalled her but she didn't want to hurt him.
âIt's not a bit selfish. At least I've got it off my chest.' He felt strangely relieved and lighthearted and able to smile at her without embarrassment. âLet's have another drink.'
Nell watched him go up to the bar and felt a strange desire to burst into hysterical laughter. How blind she must have been! She watched his tall lean shape as he waited to be served and smiled at him as he turned to give her a quick grin. Her happiness had deserted her and she suddenly felt tired. Life was so complicated, so exhausting. She didn't want to laugh any more, she wanted to burst into tears and push all her burdens on to someone else. But whom? There was no one else; not without complications of the sort that she had just witnessed. Nell felt utterly and entirely alone. The penalty of freedom is loneliness. Who'd said that? She sat up straight and arranged a bright look on her face as Guy turned back to her, bringing the drinks. She mustn't let him suspect her thoughts.
âSo,' she said, as he gave her the glass and slid into his seat. âHow many boats did you sell today?'
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LYDIA, STANDING SIDEWAYS AND breathing in, stared at herself disconsolately in the long looking glass. No matter what she did, those few â rather more than a few â extra pounds simply refused to be disguised. She sighed, undressed and added another garment to the discarded pile on the bed, wondering whether more exercise or a strict diet would be the answer. She ignored the tiny voice of truth which advised that neither would prove helpful since she was far too self-indulgent to pursue either course for the length of time necessary to achieve the desired results. For Lydia, life was a series of tests each of which might, this time, prove a triumph of hope over experience. It had come as rather a shock to see the needle swinging up when, for the first time for months, she'd climbed in the scales that morning. The telephone call from Nethercombe had been the cause of the experiment.
âWe're having a Christmas party,' Gillian told her. âIt's going to be great fun. No, no. Not the family one. We're having that on Boxing Day. This is for all our friends. You'll come, won't you, Mum? And Henry says, is there anyone you'd like to invite? A friend you'd like to bring? Anyway, think about it. I'll be in later this week and we'll have lunch.'
After they'd finished their little chat, Lydia hurried into the bedroom and looked through her smarter outfits. When nothing seemed to fit she went into the bathroom and stood on the scales. She peered
shortsightedly at the needle. Surely the scales must be wrong! She stepped off, twiddled the little knob so as to adjust them correctly, and tried again. Presently, after a restorative cup of coffee â in which she'd felt obliged to use a sweetener instead of sugar although she hated the taste â she tried the clothes on again, this time over a rather more disciplining undergarment.
She was struggling out of this quite agonising concoction of rubber and satin when the doorbell pealed. With a gasp Lydia plunged about trying to find whatever gloriously comfortable clothes she'd put on first thing that morning and finally got to the door at the third peal. She flung it open and looked out, hair on end, eyes wild with effort, cheeks red with exertion. It was Elizabeth. Spotless as ever she looked at her old friend with what â to Lydia at least â could only be described as insufferable condescension.
âWhatever have you been doing?' she asked, going in and turning an amused stare on the dishevelled and annoyed Lydia.
âI was trying things on,' said Lydia, looking as dignified as she was able with her buttons done up wrong and her skirt on back to front. âAnd I do wish that you'd phone, Elizabeth. Surely it's not too much to ask! I know I'm not a busy working woman â¦'
Elizabeth smiled at the exhumation of this very old bone of contention and gave her a rare â and very brief â hug.
âI know I'm tiresome,' she admitted, âbut when I come to Exeter I do like to see you if I can. The trouble is that I never know quite how long appointments will take.'
Lydia, disarmed at once by the hug and the apology, shrugged further explanations aside. âIt's always lovely to see you,' she said. âLet's have some coffee. The thing is that Gillian phoned to invite me to this party at Nethercombe and I was wondering what to wear. You caught me experimenting.'
Elizabeth leaned against the door jamb and looked at Lydia affectionately.
âShe seems very settled now, doesn't she?'
âOh, she does! I'm so relieved I can't tell you. There seems to have been a complete change. It was good of you to take her on, Elizabeth.'
âNot really.' Elizabeth strolled back into the sitting room so as to avoid any effusive thanks. âI need help. Gillian's only doing it until she starts a family as I expect you know.'
âYes, she told me that.' Lydia raised her voice above the noise of the kettle. âI was enormously relieved to know that she was even considering having a baby, to tell you the truth. She seems so altered that I can't help thinking that running away was quite a good thing. She came in last week with her friend. Nell something. She's working for you too, I gather.'
âThat's right.' Elizabeth sat down as Lydia appeared with the tray. âShe wants a full-time job. I think she'll train up quite well.'
âWhat an attractive girl. She reminded me of those old paintings. You know? Burne-Jones, is it?'
âShe's very striking,' agreed Elizabeth, accepting a cup of coffee, âwhich will go down well with the clients. I was delighted with Gillian for introducing her to me. She lives in one of Henry's cottages, apparently. '
âThat's right.' Lydia picked up the sugar bowl, put it back, shrugged and picked it up again. âShe lost her husband, so Gillian told me. And she's got a small boy, so she must be glad to have a job.'
âShe is,' said Elizabeth, who now knew how much Gillian had told her mother about Nell. âSo are you going to the party?'
âOh, yes!' Lydia stirred vigorously and sipped gratefully. Much nicer than those horrid sweeteners! âHave you been invited?'
âI have.' Elizabeth took a mouthful of unsweetened coffee, a cynical eye on Lydia's antics with the sugar bowl. âGillian has kindly suggested that I invite a friend.'
âOh?' Lydia's eyes were bright with interest. âShall you invite Richard?'
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. âI do have other friends,' she murmured. âAnd who are you going to invite?'
âWell.' Lydia hesitated. It was extraordinarily irritating how
Elizabeth never seemed to divulge information whilst at the same time managing to winkle other people's secrets out in moments. She bridled a little and Elizabeth hid a smile.
âDid you want to borrow Richard?'
âCertainly not!' cried Lydia indignantly, rising to the bait immediately. âAs it happens, I've met someone.'
She didn't exactly add, âSo there!' but it was implicit in her tone and Elizabeth opened her eyes at her.
âGoodness! Are you going to tell me about him? Or have I got to wait for the party?'
Lydia set down her cup and prepared to be indiscreet. âI met him in the Refectory a few weeks ago. Oh, I know you despise it but it's very pleasant there and very good value for money. Anyway. I was looking about for somewhere to sit and trying to manage my tray and my umbrella â you know how it's just rained and rained? Well â¦' Lydia lost the thread for a moment and then started off again. âI was wondering where to sit and this gentleman stood up, so politely, and took my tray from me and put it down on his table. “Allow me,” he said. I could see at once that he'd had some sort of military training. So upright. And the hair so short! And I was quite right. He's a major. Well, retired now. In the Devon and Dorsets. They're based here in Exeter, you know. He was so charming â¦' Lydia paused for breath.
âAnd you've invited him to the party?' suggested Elizabeth, hoping to stem the flow.
âNot yet.' Lydia looked rather shocked. âAfter all, Gillian only told me about it this morning. But I might. We met for tea last week and he's invited me to a concert at the Cathedral. He's a widower. Been on his own for five years. We have much in common,' said Lydia, looking long-suffering and brave, and Elizabeth nodded.
âHe sounds like one of the old school,' she said. âMust be a nice old-fashioned sort of chap if he was having coffee in the Refectory. I think you should invite him.'
âMmm.' Lydia thought pleasurably about how impressed he'd be
with Nethercombe and how nice it would be to go with a man of her own. âI think I might.'
âExcellent.' Elizabeth stood up. âMust dash, I'm afraid. Lovely to see you and thanks for the coffee. Let's lunch soon.'
Lydia, suffering from a sensation of anticlimax, followed her into the hall and received a quick peck at the door.
âSee you at the party then,' she said, rather wistfully.
âAbsolutely. Oh, and Lydia?'
âWhat?'
âTry turning your skirt round the right way. That's the trouble with elastic-waisted skirts. You have to be so careful! âBye!'
âOh, really!'
Lydia didn't quite slam the door but she would have liked to vent her frustration on some inanimate object. She hadn't nearly finished telling Elizabeth about the Major and she still didn't know whether Elizabeth intended to invite Richard to the party. She wandered into the bedroom and stared at the mound of clothes. As she hauled her skirt into place, the telephone rang and she went to answer it.
âOh, Charles. How nice â¦' Her cheeks flushed a little and unconsciously she straightened her shoulders and pulled in her stomach muscles. âI should love to. Thank you ⦠It sounds lovely ⦠I will indeed ⦠Six thirty, then.'
She replaced the receiver, patted her hair and looked at the pile of clothes. It was quite obvious now she came to think of it; in fact she couldn't imagine why she hadn't thought of it at once instead of bothering with all that nonsense about sweeteners. She simply needed some new clothes. Lydia smiled and glanced at her watch. Plenty of time for a trip to the shops and her hairdresser. Charles was the sort of man who liked to see a lady looking her best and she felt it only right to make every effort to comply.
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âAND AM I TO be invited to the party?' asked Richard, having listened with amusement to Elizabeth's version of her earlier meeting
with Lydia. âI feel it only fair now that I should be allowed to meet the Major.'
Elizabeth smiled but shook her head. âYou know the rules,' she said.
âYes,' sighed Richard. âI know the rules.' He pushed his plate aside and nodded to the waiter. âI just don't know any other man who would have been stupid enough to stick to them as long as I have. Coffee?'
Elizabeth was silent as he ordered coffee and brandy. She hoped that he wasn't about to become difficult; it would be such a pity after all the years they'd shared.
âWe did agree,' she said gently, after the waiter had gone, âthat it was best for all concerned.'
âSo we did.' He looked at her with his direct thoughtful gaze. âAnd now, twenty-five years on, do you still think it is?'
âDo I gather that you don't?'
âOh, Elizabeth.' He shook his head. âNo answering a question with another question. I'm too old a hand for that.'
âWell.' She sat considering the question, aware that her answer might precipitate the emotional showdown that had been hitherto avoided. Presently she straightened and looked at him. âYes. Yes, I have to say I do. Considering all the facts and your particular situation. Yes, I do.'
âHow cool you are,' he marvelled. âDid you ever love me, I wonder? '
They both sat back in their chairs as the waiter deposited coffee and glasses of brandy but, when he'd gone, this new atmosphere â tense, painful, brittle â closed round them once again.
âI think that's a little unfair. It wasn't me who was married.' Elizabeth poured their coffee with a steady hand, determined to keep the situation under control. âAnd you couldn't leave Anne. Or so you said at the time, as I remember.' This reminder, intended to put the responsibility where it belonged, was the only evidence of the pain she
felt at his bitterly unjustified question and she let it hang for a second in the air before she added, âand I agreed that you couldn't. I still do.'
Richard took the cup and saucer.
âIf only I knew that I was right!' His voice held an impatient note. âWould it have made so much difference after all?'
âOh yes, it would,' said Elizabeth at once. âI'm sure it would! Can you imagine how she would have felt? Rejected and abandoned, crippled and unwanted? And how would we have felt? Grabbing at our happiness at her expense. No, Richard. I'm sure we were right.'
âI wish I had your confidence,' he muttered. âI think that we were too honourable. We could have had some happiness. Surely we were entitled to something.'
âHaven't we known happiness?' countered Elizabeth. âAren't you actually talking about sex? We've had an amazing friendship, Richard. Don't deny it simply because we haven't sweated and gasped and writhed about in bed together.'
âWhat a charming picture you paint.' A smile touched his lips but not his eyes. âI don't think that I can see it quite as you do. You keep me so firmly on the edges of your life.'
âFor your sake as much as mine. Be fair,' she pleaded. âWe agreed that no breath of gossip should touch Anne. We meet as business friends and often more than that. You know several of my oldest friends, although I admit that even they don't know the real situation. Don't get distorted vision now, Richard. It's a danger as one gets older to muddle the past. To feel cheated and hard done by. We must try to remember how things really were.'