'Rocking horse,' Tracy corrected.
'A big rocking horse,' Robin breathed ecstatically. 'Donna and me galloped on it.'
Ross looked at Emma, neither frowning nor smiling, his face oddly blank. 'You have had a busy day, haven't you?' he murmured to the children.
Lunch was a subdued affair. The children were tired, and having eaten, went off to rest upstairs, with books to look at and orders to try to take a nap for an hour if they could. Tracy was a little contemptuous at this—she was too old for such baby treatment, she implied, but Robin and Donna did not argue. They were yawning and pale, ready for a little sleep.
Ross helped Emma with the washing up in silence at first, but she was under no illusions. She could feel the tension under his skin as he moved about. Sooner or later he would say what was in his thoughts.
It came at last, in a quiet question. 'Don't you think you should have been more discreet in what you knew, I imagine, to be a delicate situation?'
'I know nothing,' she said. I've been told nothing. I had to follow my instincts.'
'And what did they tell you?' He was scornful.
'They told me to bring the children home at once, and I would have done so had Donna not run off before I could catch her—it was out of my hands before I could decide how to tactfully get away.' She was suddenly angry. She had been deliberately left in the dark, yet he was blaming her for something she had been unable to avoid. 'It was an impossible situation in which I found myself, anyway. How could I be rude to Mr Daumaury? I didn't know what to do, what to say.'
'Amanda tells me—' he began, and then her temper flared.
'Amanda! She rang to warn you, I presume? She was furious to see the children there, of course. She detests them.'
'Be quiet!' Ross commanded, in a tone so quelling that her own voice froze in her throat and she began to shake slightly.
After a slight pause, he said less formidably, 'I think you're being less than fair to Amanda. Far from detesting the children, she's been working eagerly to re-establish relations between them and their grandfather. Amanda desires nothing more than to see the family together again.'
Emma bit her lip and did not reply. What could she say? Her own experience of Amanda had certainly been less than happy. The other girl had always been cruel-tongued, hostile and malicious towards her, and, so far, she had not shown much more pleasant behaviour towards the three children. Emma remembered that first meeting—the splash of green mould on Amanda's lovely clothes, the other girl's furious reaction, her vicious reaction towards Robin particularly—and she wondered if Ross knew Amanda at all.
She looked at him sideways. He was looking concerned, anxious. Was he wondering how he was to explain this to his sister?
'Of course,' she said, 'I take full responsibility. I'll tell Judith it was my fault.'
He laughed oddly. 'Silly girl! Be quiet, Emma. Be quiet.' Flinging down the tea towel, he walked out of the room. She watched him go with burning indignation beneath which ran pain, love, weariness.
It hurt that he should speak to her in that dismissive voice. A silly girl—that was how he saw her. That's what I am, she thought. Silly…A fool to fall in love with this tough, arrogant man who was too blind to see the traps laid for him by a girl like Amanda. He had boasted that he would not make a mistake about love, that he saw Amanda clearly—yet by his own words just now he was obviously completely fooled by her. Or else Emma had mistaken what she saw and heard.
She frowned out of the window at the afternoon sky, windblown and storm-driven. Rain blew fiercely against the glass, clouding her view. Or was it her own tears blinding her as she wept silently, her hands gripping the kitchen sink, her cheeks as wet as the windowpane?
CHAPTER NINE
Two days later Emma was working in the garden with the children when she heard a car pulling up outside the gate. She straightened, a hand to her aching back, somewhat surprised, but imagining that Ross had finished early and come home for tea. He had said when he went out that he would not be back until later, but in his job he never quite knew when he would be free and when he would be working all the hours God sent. For the last forty-eight hours, in fact, he had been unusually busy, and they had seen little of him. It was possible that Edward had arranged for Ross to have a few hours' much-needed break.
The gate clicked and she gave an astonished gasp. Facing her, shy yet bravely determined, stood Fanny.
They both laughed, then flung themselves at one another, hugging and kissing with almost tearful emotion.
'What on earth are you doing here?' demanded Emma, when she had stood back to survey her friend. 'That's a nice suit. New?'
Fanny looked down at it with contentment. 'Yes, first time of wearing, in fact. I'm glad you like it.' It was a pale blue woollen suit, figure-hugging but warm, in a classical, timeless design. Blue had always suited Fanny. She looked radiant, Emma noted with pleasure. Obviously love was being kind to her.
'How's Guy?' she asked without self-consciousness. Her love for Ross, she found, had freed her even of feeling shy about Guy.
Fanny beamed, 'Here's Guy to answer for himself.' She gestured behind Emma, who turned in surprise, laughing, and found herself face to face with him.
He kissed Emma so warmly on the cheek, his face all smiles, that Emma was astonished to remember that she had ever suspected he loved her. Guy's complete indifference could not be more obvious now that the scales had fallen from her eyes. He was the same cheerful, easy companion he had always been—it had been her mistake to imagine otherwise.
How we fool ourselves! she thought wryly. We imagine so much that's not true and miss the truth which is all around us!
'You both look so well!' It was true. They looked on top of the world.
Smiling, blushing, Fanny said, 'We came down to ask you to come back to London for our wedding.'
'Your wedding?' Emma was delighted. 'When is it? Of course I'll come. I hope you want me to be bridesmaid? Is it to be a formal wedding, or a quiet affair?'
'It's fixed for the last day of October,' Guy said. 'I've got a job in Canada. I have to leave by the fifteenth of November, so this is going to be a pretty tight squeeze, but I couldn't go without Fanny, and she's agreed to do without the usual fuss and trimmings. We're having a quiet little wedding, just family and close friends like you.'
'A white wedding, though,' Fanny said, her chin determined. 'And you most certainly will be my bridesmaid, Em!'
'Yes,' Guy urged. 'Do you think you can manage it? It would ruin everything for Fanny, I think, if you weren't there, Emma.' He smiled at her, his eyes so nice, so full of friendliness, that she was touched. Far from having lost Fanny, she thought, she had gained another friend, even though they were going across to the other side of the world. Distances would not diminish the warmth between them, she was sure of that. It would take more than an air journey to separate her from Fanny.
'I'll manage it somehow,' she promised. 'I'll make my own bridesmaid's dress, something simple. What colour would you like, Fan?'
'Oh, yellow for you, darling,' Fanny said decisively. 'A pretty primrose colour suits you.'
The children were staring, all ears. Emma caught their eyes and laughed. 'I forgot to introduce you…' She drew them into the circle and told them who Fanny and Guy were, told Fanny and Guy the children's names.
Fanny bent to kiss each one. Tracy was rapt, staring with eyes wide with admiration at Fanny's beautiful golden curls, her delicate heart-shaped face and enormous eyes. 'You're just like the fairy on our Christmas tree!' she burst out.
Emma stifled a smile. Fanny looked startled, then rather shy. But Guy said seriously, 'I know what you mean, Tracy. I feel like that, too,' and the way in which he looked at Fanny made Emma feel very much in the way.
It must be wonderful, she thought wistfully, to have a man look at you like that, as if he saw rainbows and heard trumpets at the very sight of you! She knew the feeling…every time she saw Ross unexpectedly her heart fe
lt as if it was going through a giant wringer, being crushed in some ruthless machine.
'Come and see our cottage,' Tracy urged, holding Fanny's hand with eager devotion and dragging her towards the door.
'It looks enchanting,' Fanny breathed, gazing at it.
'Yes, go ahead,' Emma nodded. 'I'll put away our gardening tools and join you in a moment. We can have tea. There are plenty of cakes and scones, all home-made and delicious, I can promise you!'
'Edie spent all morning baking,' Tracy confided as she pulled Fanny away.
'Oh, yes, I heard about Edie,' said Fanny, smiling at Emma over her shoulder as she went.
'How did you?' Tracy demanded.
'Emma wrote to me about you all,' Fanny told her.
'Did she?' Tracy was surprised. 'What did she say about me in her letter? Did she say how good I was at cooking?'
Fanny tactfully assured her that Emma had praised her cooking to the skies. Remembering that she had described with gusto the morning when Tracy made concrete porridge, Emma was grateful for Fanny's tact and warm-heartedness.
Robin and Donna, abandoning their gardening without a backward glance, followed into the cottage. Fanny apparently had the same charms for them as she did for Tracy. A new, enchanting face was a big draw when one spent such a quiet life. The children loved to meet new people, talk to visitors.
Guy watched them, smiling. Emma looked up at him, remembering things she had, astonishingly, forgotten about him—that little bump in his nose which he had acquired during a rugger game; the smile in his blue eyes, his curly fair hair and firm chin. Once these things had made her feel weak at the knees. Now she was puzzled. Why had she ever thought she loved him? He was nice, indeed he was charming, but he lacked Ross's strength, the toughness of mind which made Ross such a force to be reckoned with.
Guy turned and looked down at her. 'You look very well yourself,' he said, surveying her.
She laughed. She was wearing old muddy jeans, Wellington boots and a thick sweater, which she kept especially for gardening since it had shrunk slightly in the washing process and was no longer exactly high fashion. 'I look a mess! If I'd known you were coming…'
'We wanted to surprise you. Fanny had a few days free, so we thought we'd take a quick trip down here, see you and enjoy some country air at the same time.'
'Where are you staying?' she asked, leaning on her fork.
'Dorchester. Attractive little town, isn't it?'
'You must visit Hardy's birthplace,' she told him.
'We did—on the way here,' he smiled. 'Briefly! Fanny isn't one for prolonged sightseeing.'
Emma laughed, 'Don't I know it! Fanny's favourite occupation has always been sitting in front of a television eating toffees. We were always opposites in that respect. I like to get involved. Fanny likes to watch.'
'She comes to watch me playing rugger every Saturday,' Guy told her grinning. 'She looks like a teddy bear, wrapped up in about fifty thick woolly scarves, with a knitted bobble hat on top of her head and big furry boots…' He looked proud. 'The team have adopted her as a mascot. They'll miss her when we leave for Canada. They reckon she brings them luck.'
'You certainly had some luck getting Fanny,' Emma told him, smiling. 'She's a wonderful girl. I love her very dearly, and I hope you'll both be happy for ever.'
Guy took her by the shoulders, his face lit up with joy and certainty. 'Don't you worry about Fanny, I'll always do everything I can to keep her as happy as she is now. I know I'm the luckiest man on earth. My father can't stop telling me so. He thinks Fanny is as close to a fairy princess as I'm likely to get! He can't understand why she's marrying me!' He laughed, bending to kiss Emma's cheek. 'Nor can I!'
Emma hugged him. 'She loves you, that's obvious. And I think you're a perfect match, you complement each other beautifully.'
'What a wonderful girl you are, Emma,' Guy burst out, in gratitude, his voice raised joyfully. He kissed her again, on the lips, briefly. 'How can I ever thank you enough for forgiving me? I came between you, yet you're so wonderfully kind and forgiving…'
'It was only what was to be expected,' she pointed out. 'These things happen. I'm glad, really glad… honestly! It's going to be wonderful.'
'You can say that again,' he breathed emphatically. 'From now on everything is going to be fantastic!'
They both laughed, then to bring them back to normal life Emma said gently, 'Why not go in and let the children show you around? I'll be with you all in a minute, when I've disposed of my tools and cleaned myself up a little!'
'Fine,' he said, and wandered off obediently, while Emma turned to gather up her tools. She knocked the mud off them, counted them carefully. She did not want one out to rust, as had happened before when the children left a trowel out.
Turning to go to the garden shed, she found herself facing Ross. He was leaning over the garden gate, a dark look on his face. What was wrong with him? she wondered.
'Hello! You're back early.' She smiled, hoping to drive away the anger from his face.
'Too early, apparently,' he snapped.
She frowned. 'What's that supposed to mean?'
'How long has Romeo been here?' he demanded, coming into the garden and banging the gate behind him so hard that it flew open again.
'Romeo?' For a moment her mind was blank, then she laughed. 'Do you mean Guy?'
'Guy!' He repeated the name with a stinging sarcasm in his voice. 'Who else?'
'The most marvellous thing has happened,' she said eagerly, hoping to make him smile. 'You'll never guess!'
'Let me try,' he drawled unpleasantly. 'All is suddenly sweetness and light between you! What did he say…you're such a wonderful girl, Emma, so sweet and forgiving…' He imitated Guy's voice, emphasising it to the point of sickening over-enthusiasm. His face expressed disgust. 'My God! I could have been sick on the spot. How any sane, intelligent human being could listen to such drivel, believe such humbug…'
'Guy meant it,' she said angrily. 'Just because all men are not the hard-headed, cold-hearted brutes you are…'
He was very pale now, his eyes tight points of steely light which pierced her, his jaw projecting furiously in rage. 'Go on, say what you've wanted to say for weeks! Do you imagine I don't know your opinion of me?'
Emma stared, shaken, breathless. 'What?'
'I am well aware how you feel about me,' he said icily.
She was now as white as he was, her whole body shaking. He knew? Horror made her wince in disbelief. She couldn't bear it, she could not bear to contemplate the idea that Ross knew she loved him, that it irritated him and made him despise her.
He caught her shoulders and shook her. 'Don't you turn away from me with that face! Look at me!'
She twisted in his grip, struggling to break away, terrified of the probing grey eyes.
'Let me go! You're hurting me…'
'Don't tempt me,' he said nastily. 'You don't know how much I'd like to! A good hard slap might bring you to your senses. I knew you were an idiot, but I didn't realise how big an idiot you were until now.'
'Have you quarrelled with Amanda again?' she demanded, shaken and puzzled by his anger. Surely it could not be directed at her? It must have been aroused by something else, and now he was expending upon her the rage he felt towards someone he dared not attack.
'Amanda!' The snort was almost violent. 'Don't try to sidetrack me.'
'I'm trying to find out what's put you in this nasty mood,' she said patiently.
He looked down at her, brows dark, mouth curling scornfully. 'As if you didn't know!'
Wide-eyed, she shook her head. 'I think you're punishing me because of something Amanda has done, but I tell you now, I will not put up with it. You're not manhandling me every time you feel like it!'
'Aren't I?' His voice was suddenly dangerously soft. His hands closed on her upper arms, pinching the flesh as he bent her slightly backwards. For a flashing second she felt a wave of disbelief, alarm, weakness, as his face came near
er, his eyes narrowed. Then his mouth covered hers, his lips hard and demanding, seeking and seizing an unwilling yet ardent response from her. She couldn't think. She could only feel, and feel a pleasure that was almost entirely pain.
This kiss was not meant for her—it belonged to Amanda. Ross was still punishing her as a substitute for the girl he loved, and the kiss which might, in other happier circumstances, have been a stinging joy was now only humiliation and grief. Yet she could not pretend to herself that she did not enjoy it. Her traitorous body awoke to life under his touch. Her mouth quivered with heat and pleasure.
Taking a stern grip upon herself, she pulled back from the brink of oblivion, and made herself struggle, slapping Ross hard with her open palm as his head drew away.
'Don't ever do that again!' she gasped.
He released her and stepped back, one finger tracing the red mark where she had slapped him. A curious little smile quirked his mouth. 'I wouldn't like to meet you in a dark alley,' he murmured. 'You have muscles I didn't suspect!'
She did not answer. Her heart was still performing a strange somersault.
Ross shoved his hands into his pockets. 'Well,' he said quietly, 'shall we go in and be hospitable towards your friend? Do you want to put him up for the night? He could share my room.'
She smiled politely. 'That's very kind of you, but he and Fanny will be going back to Dorchester.'
Ross stared down at her. 'Fanny?'
'Yes, my flatmate—I told you about her and Guy. Don't you remember? Well, they drove down to tell me that they're getting married and want me to be their bridesmaid.' She smiled again. 'Isn't that marvellous?'
'Marvellous!' he said in a still, quiet voice.
'I shall make my own dress, but even so they haven't given me much time. They're leaving for Canada, you see, as soon as they're married—they only have a few more weeks in this country. Guy's got a job over there.'
'And they've asked you to be bridesmaid?' Ross looked at her sharply. 'You ought to be crying, not babbling enthusiastically. Asking you that is a piece of crass insensitivity!'
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