‘
My dear, we all of us do hasty things at times. If we were perfect we wouldn
’
t be human. You acted on impulse, that
’
s all. You didn
’
t behave badly deliberately. It wasn
’
t calculated. You had obviously reached the end of your endurance about one thing and another, and the first place you thought of was home, that
’
s all.
’
Tears gathered in her throat. She smiled her thanks through a mist of tears.
‘
But I should have had more character, more—powers of endurance. It was just plain selfish to run away like that.
’
Tom Barclay filled his pipe and lit it.
‘
We could all do with more of those things, so I think you
’
d better stop blaming yourself and tell us a little more about it, especially if it
’
s going to make you sleep any better.
’
Julia leaned back in her chair. ‘The crux of the whole matter is, Father, I
’
m in love with Roger—but he isn
’
t with me.
’
‘Well, you
’
re by no means the first person to run away from a situation like that,
’
commented her father. ‘But what makes you think he isn
’
t in love with you?
’
Julia stared at him.
‘
Wouldn
’
t he have said so, or have found some way of letting me know it? Besides—
’
She told him about Celia, and all the little things which were evidence enough without what Celia had told her in addition.
‘And has he told you his plans himself?
’
queried her father.
‘
Some of them. He
’
s going back to London, just as Celia said. In fact, he offered me a partnership. A sort of working partnership on a profit-sharing basis. But he
’
d be coming down—to the boatyard, I mean—for week-ends and holidays, and bringing Celia—
’
‘As his wife. And that
’
s what you couldn
’
t stand,
’
finished her father for her. ‘And I don
’
t blame you in the least. I suppose Roger hasn
’
t got the least idea how you feel about him
?’
‘Of course not. I couldn
’
t possibly—
’
‘Tom,
’
his wife said in a remonstrative tone, ‘a girl has her pride.
’
‘So has a man,
’
he answered swiftly.
‘
For one thing, what about this Max fellow you
’
ve been seeing? It
’
s possible Roger thinks you
’
re in love with him.
’
Julia shook her head.
‘
He knows I
’
m not. I told him myself I wasn
’
t all that keen on Max.
’
‘You
did? Oh.
’
Tom
Barclay puffed on his pipe. ‘I must say I liked Roger Leighton. I wonder what he
’
ll do about the boatyard now?
’
‘I don
’
t know,
’
Julia answered with a sigh.
‘
Put a manager in charge, I suppose.
’
‘
You don
’
t think he
’
ll sell it?
’
‘I don
’
t know,
’
she said again.
‘
I hope not.
’
She felt sure he wouldn
’
t sell to Max in any case. But Max could still have it one day by buying it from someone else.
‘Why do you hope not
?’
pursued her father.
She frowned. ‘I—suppose because of its associations with David. That
’
s why I wanted to buy it, if you remember. I couldn
’
t bear the idea of anyone else having it. Of course once I got to know Roger—
’
Tom Barclay nodded thoughtfully, but said no more, and a short time after that they all went to bed.
The following day Julia wrote two letters. One to
Mrs.
Harris, asking her to pack her clothes and send them on, and the other to Roger. The one to
Mrs.
Harris was easy to write, but when it came to Roger
’
s, she tore up first one, then the other.
In the end she wrote a brief formal letter apologizing for leaving so abruptly and told him to keep her month
’
s salary, which was due, in lieu of notice. She signed her name, then after a moment
’
s indecision, added the postscript:
I wish you and Celia every happiness
.
She despatched it by first-class mail, and subconsciously waited anxiously for his reply. But the week passed and she did not receive one. A registered letter came from
Mrs.
Harris containing the money which had been in her purse, her cheque book and several letters.
A parcel followed in which was packed her handbag and one or two other small items. The rest was to follow by rail. She stopped asking her mother:
‘
Any post for me?
’
and busied herself in her father
’
s office and helping to keep an eye on the fruit trees. But somehow she could not settle. She felt restless, as though she was not where she should be, yet she shrank from the thought of ever going back to the boatyard, even if Roger wanted her to now.
On Sunday afternoon she was alone in the house. Her mother and father had gone out to keep an engagement they had made prior to Julia coming home.
‘
You won
’
t be going out, will you, darling
?’
asked her mother as Julia saw them to their car.
‘I
wasn
’
t thinking of doing so,
’
she answered.
‘
Why?
’
‘
I
’
m rather expecting someone to call. Someone I couldn
’
t ve
r
y well put off.
’
‘
But who—
’
she began through the open window of the car.
Her father pulled the starter.
‘
If we don
’
t get off we shall be late.
’
Her mother
’
s next words were drowned by the roar of the accelerator, and the car made off down the drive in a cloud of dust.
The house seemed strangely quiet. Julia wandered from room to room and found her thoughts straying to the boatyard, wondering how the work on the new auxiliaries was getting along, wishing she could go for a sail, wondering what Roger was doing. She had been wrong to leave. She knew that now. But it was too late. Feeling miserable and unhappy beyond belief she sat down at the piano, but as she played she was thinking of Roger
’
s house, playing his piano while he was in the kitchen making coffee and listening to her play.
The ringing of the front door bell brought her to her senses with a painful jolt. This would be the caller her
mother was expecting. She opened the door, then her eyes widened and she drew in a swift breath.
‘Roger! What—what on earth are you doing here?
’
He eyed her uncertainly.
‘
I
’
ve brought your things. It seemed—better than sending them by rail.
’
‘Oh, I see. That
’
s very land of you. Thank you ve
r
y much.
’
His lips curved into a slight smile.
‘
There was another reason for my coming. Do you think I could come in and talk to you for a moment?
’
She suddenly realized she was keeping him standing on the doorstep.
‘I
’
m sorry. Do come in, of course. I
’
m afraid Mother and Father aren
’
t in at the moment. If they
’
d known—
’
He stepped inside.
‘
That
’
s all right. Perhaps they
’
ll be back soon, anyway.
’
She led him into the sitting room.
‘
Would you like some tea?
’
she asked.
He sat down.
‘
I think I
’
d rather talk first, if you don
’
t mmd. I should have answered your letter, but I thought it better to—come and see you.
’
‘
Why didn
’
t you let me know you were coming? I might have been out. In fact, if Mother hadn
’
t said she was expecting someone to call—
’
‘
Your letter was so—formal, I thought you must still be angry and might not want to see me,
’
he told her with a speculative glance.
She did not answer. Surely he had not come all this way just for a chat with her? But of course not. He had almost certainly been coming to see Celia and had thought he might as well drop in to have a talk about things. But she did not want any recriminations. They had both apologized, so—
‘
Are
you pleased to see me, Julia
?’
he asked quizzically.
She didn
’
t know how to answer him.
‘I
—just don
’
t see what we
’
ve got to say to each other, Roger.
’
‘You don
’
t? You mean you
’
re quite content to let all these misunderstandings remain between us for ever?
’
‘
I don
’
t know what misunderstandings you mean,
’
she answered without looking at him.
‘
If you really believe that I
’
d plot against you to get rid of you, there
’
s no more to be said.
’
‘
I
don
’
t
believe it,
’
he said with quiet emphasis.
‘But you suspected me,
’
she flashed back at him.
He shook his head.
‘
I didn
’
t, Julia. Not seriously. But if you remember, I
did
ask you if you knew Sheldrake worked for Max Windham and you said yes.
’
‘
You didn
’
t give me a chance to finish,
’
she said angrily. ‘I was going to tell you that I didn
’
t know until
the
previous evening. In any case—
’
‘Did Windham tell you he intended to make me an offer for Wingcraft?
’
he asked.
She gave him a startled look.
‘
No. No, he didn
’
t. You didn
’
t accept his offer?
’
‘
Would it matter to you
?’
She clasped her hands together and lowered her head.
‘
Yes. Yes, it would. I wouldn
’
t want Max to have it.
’
‘I
suspect that you don
’
t want anyone to have it,
’
he told her quietly.
‘
Am I right?
’
‘I
—I don
’
t know.
’
She couldn
’
t quite explain even to herself how she felt about the boatyard. Ownership for David
’
s sake had ceased to matter when she had fallen in love with Roger. Now she could not visualize anyone there but Roger.