by Jane Arbor
‘I’d like you to,’ said Verity, meaning it, and happily not able then to foresee that the next time she walked the shore at night she would be alone.
CHAPTER IV
The next day Verity waylaid Lance on his way to a class and told him about Daniel’s offer. Lance listened, staring, then echoed her own surprise.
‘A Leica—just like that? You’re joking! People don’t lend that kind of gear around!’
‘Well, evidently Daniel does—’
‘Daniel?’
Verity snapped, ‘Oh, don’t be tiresome. You know Mother always calls him Daniel at home, so naturally I do too—off the job. And he calls me Verity all the time, just as he calls you Lance, except in school.’
‘Well, tell him, will you, that I’d rather settle for Lytton?’ retorted Lance rudely. Hitching the books he was carrying, he added, ‘And while you’re at it, you could say that if he’s hoping to suck up with the loan of a camera I can’t afford, he’d better think again.’ But as he turned away Verity caught at his arm.
‘Listen,’ she said. ‘The thing is on my desk now, waiting for you. I’ve accepted it in your name and I’m not handing it back. What’s more, when the High needs to suck up to a mere fifth-former, that’ll be the day! So you’re going to borrow that camera—and use it, do you hear?’
‘Oh, I am? And who’s going to make me, huh?’ defied Lance.
‘As if you didn’t know! I am,’ even if I have to stand over you in the hide. So I’ll expect you to collect it after school.’
‘You’ll be waiting a long time.’
‘Then I’ll bring it over to West myself. And if I’m forced to do that, don’t be surprised if I tell Old Nick that you’ve turned down a chance to put on a complete show of your own films for the House,’ warned Verity.
‘What do you mean—a show?’
‘Just that. I think Daniel had in mind a programme of your best results with your commentary added on tape, perhaps. He seemed to think you might be glad to have the chance.’
Lance hesitated. ‘But I haven’t any stuff good enough—’
‘Nonsense. You know you’ve got some wonderful shots. What about all those you put on for us last Christmas? And the ones you’ve just got on the Broads? But remember, if you’re giving a show Daniel will expect you to have got some results with the Leica.’ Verity paused. ‘You’ll come along and look at it when you’re free, then?’ she added.
Lance hunched a shoulder. ‘Maybe I’ll come in break,’ he grudged. At which Verity astutely hid her relief. Once he handled the camera, he would be tempted, she was sure, and the rest should be easy.
A week later Nash gave one small yelp as he loped down from his bed to give Verity his morning greeting. He had done the same before the onset of his spinal trouble in the summer, and her heart plunged with dismay.
‘Oh, Nash, no!’ she begged, and ran for the tablets which the vet had left with her against such a recurrence. Before ringing him she saw other danger signals she recognized—the drawn-in stern, the little dog’s sharp wariness to her touch, and when the vet came his verdict was even more guarded than before.
Rest, drugs, loving attention—all these Nash should have in good measure. But his earlier attack had weakened his heart, and though Mr. Cody counselled hope, his diagnosis had little else to offer.
This Verity sensed. Though the worst remained unspoken at that first visit, she feared its inevitability from the way in which Mr. Cody, unaware that she was listening, addressed Nash as he left. A hand under the sensitive muzzle—‘Well, feller, you’ve had a baker’s dozen of good years, haven’t you?’ said Mr. Cody, and Verity’s throat constricted with dread.
She left Nash in her mother’s care when she went to her office, and Daniel enquired about him when he called her to take letters. She slipped back to see Nash during break. He was sleeping under the sedative effect of the tablets, but she did not leave him until after the next school period had begun.
She heard her telephone ringing from down the hall and when she snatched up the receiver a woman’s voice said, ‘Is that Clere? Yes? Then I should like to speak to the High Master. Miss Cusack—Ira Cusack of Viking Vision here.’
‘Oh yes. Good morning, Miss Cusack.’ Verity’s pleasant tone masked her faint recoil from the associations which the name recalled. ‘Mr. Wyatt asked you to ring about now, didn’t he? But I’m afraid—just a moment, please’—Verity referred to the class timetable above her desk—‘yes, I’m afraid I can’t call him to the phone at the moment as he has just gone to take a History period with the Sixth. Perhaps I could?’
She wasn’t allowed to finish. Ira Cusack’s urbane voice cut in, ‘He’s gone where?’ and to Verity’s reply, ‘But that doesn’t put him at the ends of the earth, surely? So tell him, please, that I’m on the line and that I’ll hold on to speak to him—in person.’
Verity said patiently, ‘I’m sorry, but you can’t just now. If you must, I suggest you call again—say, at half-past twelve, when he should be free. This is Verity Lytton speaking—his secretary, you know—and I’m under orders not to call him from a class after it has begun, except for the greatest urgency.’
‘And who decides what is urgent and what isn’t?’
‘Almost invariably, I can,’ said Verity evenly.
‘Dear me! The complete watchdog, aren’t you?’ Ira’s short laugh was unamused. ‘But as you say you know Mr. Wyatt asked me to ring him, why are you being quite so obstructive, I wonder?’
‘If you remember, he suggested you should ring me to make an appointment for you,’ Verity corrected. ‘And I can do that now if you like, as I keep his engagement book.’
Silence from the other end of the line. Then Ira asked, ‘Well, if you’re all that au fait, do you know whether he’s prepared to co-operate on the Stately Schools project?’
‘I know he’s ready to discuss it with you. He asked me to tell you so when you rang up.’
‘Very well—Cerberus! Or is that too bad of me?’ Ira’s voice was mocking. ‘I mean, if he’s the kind of chief who gives you the works if you don’t obey orders to the letter, one must forgive you the three-headed custodian act! Some bosses come that way, I know, and you’ve simply got to train them. Use your sex appeal like crazy. Flutter your eyelashes. Or throw a small tantrum every other week. However, to business. I have my own great man’s little book here, so what about—let’s see—the twenty-fourth at, say, three o’clock?’
‘The time would do, but I’m afraid not the date, as Mr. Wyatt will be in London,’ said Verity.
‘The twenty-fifth instead?’ As she waited for Ira to agree, Bob Wales knocked and looked round the door. In dumb show she told him she would be off the phone in a moment and he came to perch on the edge of her desk as she confirmed the appointment aloud, ‘Friday the twenty-fifth at three. Mr. Wyatt will expect you,’ and wrote it into the engagement book.
Bob swung a leg. ‘ “And gentlemen in England, now abed, shall think themselves accursed they were not here,” ’ he remarked dreamily, and grinned at her glance of perplexity.
‘Don’t you know your Shakespeare better than that?’ he accused. ‘Henry the Fifth—the speech before Agincourt?’
‘Of course. But what’s the connexion?’
‘The twenty-fifth of October, of course. St Crispin’s Day. Agincourt. El Alamein too. And by the oddest coincidence, also my birthday, as by now you should well know. And what are you going to do about it?’
Verity smiled. ‘I dare say I’ll run to a birthday card. I usually do, don’t I?’
‘But I shall have a birthday card. Or two. Or perhaps even three. No, I really looked in to see if we couldn’t make a date for a meal together that night? And before you go all upstage about playing proxy for my lovely but capricious Rosemary, may I remind you that it wouldn’t be the first time, nor the second, that you’ve saved my face and I’ve saved yours at some delicate or crucial point in our affairs of the heart?’
‘I
know. Do you remember that Clere Old Boy you rescued me from by telling him we were only waiting for our people’s consent to get engaged? That faded him out, and was I grateful to you! But what is it this time? Do you want rescuing from Rosemary or simply to teach her a lesson?’ asked Verity.
‘Rescue? Heaven forbid!’ said Bob, alarmed. ‘No, but she’s playing hard-to-get rather cunningly just now and I thought that one or two “other good fish in the sea” ploys might bring her back to heel. Such as taking you out and subtly letting her know that I had. What do you think?’
‘It depends. If she’s a girl of any spirit it might send her whinneying off in quite other directions, and then where would you be?’
‘Much where I am now—at Square One,’ said Bob gloomily. ‘I dare say I can’t risk it after all. But as she’s going to London for the weekend and wouldn’t be available for the twenty-fifth in any case, could we still make it a date, you and I?’
But in the shadow of Nash’s illness, Verity had no heart for making plans. ‘I’d rather not, Bob,’ she told him. ‘Promise you, I mean, and then have to back out. I’ve got Nash paralysed again and I’m afraid he’s very ill indeed this time. Of course he could be better by your birthday, but if he were worse or—Well, you do see?’ she broke off.
Bob reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘Of course, old girl. Forget it. Poor old Noble and Sagacious! But you mustn’t lose hope yet, you know. He got better last time and could again. I suppose you’ve had Cody to him? What does he say?’
Verity told him and he nodded. ‘One thing you can be sure of—if anyone can save him, Cody will,’ he said. ‘May I take a peep at him on my way out?’
‘I wish you would. You’ll find Mother with him, I think. But I won’t come with you. I was late back from break, and I’ve got a stack of work to get through before lunch.’
That morning she was only too thankful to be busy, and during the days which followed only work served to lighten for a time the leaden weight to which she woke each morning, sometimes alert to its cause, sometimes needing minutes to realize ... and remember. Every night in the small hours she slipped into dressing-gown and slippers and went down to Nash, to sit with him, hoping against hope that the small life might not be slipping towards its end.
Now her coming evoked no ecstatic thumping of the stem, the silken coat was drab and only the liquid velvet eyes loved her in an unswerving faith which questioned nothing, doubted nothing, trusted implicitly still.
He would still be believing in her up to and beyond the moment of the final coup-de-grace, if it had to come to that. She could only suppose she must be thankful that if the hour came, he would not see her decision as betrayal, and that the aftermath of heartbreak would be hers alone, not his.
The day and the hour came. One morning, after examining Nash, Mr. Cody did not unpack his treatment bag. He drew Verity aside.
‘I’m afraid we’ve lost this battle, my dear. The little chap is going downhill fast. But I suppose I needn’t tell you that? You’ll have realized it for yourself?’
Verity nodded dumbly.
Mr. Cody went on, ‘He’s in no pain, only discomfort. But his pulse is fading, and though I could go on stuffing medication into him, it would only distress him unduly without much hope of result. He has no recuperative strength in reserve, I’m afraid. So?’ He left the question in the air, her haunted eyes telling him she understood.
She said, ‘Yes. Yes,’ then pleaded, ‘But not today, please. If he’s not in pain—tomorrow? Just to give me a little more time to get used to—’
Unable to finish, she stopped and busied herself with Nash’s blanket. Mr. Cody said compassionately,
‘That’s all right. If there’s no change for the better—tomorrow. Don’t trouble about me. I’ll see myself out,’ and went.
That was the twenty-fourth of October. Daniel Wyatt, in London since the previous day, would not be returning until the evening, which allowed Verity to accept a thoughtful gesture of her mother’s.
Mrs. Lytton said, ‘Dear, I’m sure Daniel wouldn’t mind your not going to your office today. If you could bring any work you have on hand and do it here beside Nash, couldn’t I man the telephone for you, in case anyone rings?’
‘You could, dear, if you would,’ Verity told her, grateful for both the thought and that on Nash’s possible last day she could escape the kindly sympathy of school and staff to which she dreaded finding cheerful answers.
All morning Nash slept, oblivious to the sound of her typewriter at work. But there was infinite comfort for her in not leaving him, and when Mrs. Lytton returned for lunch, she brought an envelope with her.
‘No calls I couldn’t deal with. I left the details on your desk,’ she said. ‘But Lance looked in during break, expecting to find you, and said he thought you’d like to have this—’ passing the envelope over.
‘This’ emerged from it—a snapshot of Nash, sitting up in his basket, absurd under a draping of blanket about his shoulders and wearing the dreamy, bemused expression which had always been known in the family as his ‘Do Not Disturb’. It had been enlarged from the original and Lance had written on the back,
‘This is from a roll of film I’ve only just processed. Thought I’d find you, but Mother will give it to you. I’m so sorry, V. girl. Keep hoping. Tomorrow I’ve got leavers (the Clere word for a half-holiday), and I may be trying out the Leica. My love to Nash. L.’ At that moment no thought, no gift, could have touched Verity more.
She stayed where she was for the afternoon and suspected nothing amiss when her mother came back from the office a few minutes after three o’clock.
‘Verity darling, could you come? Those people from Viking Vision have just arrived. You know, Jane Dysart’s sister and her chief. They say they have an appointment with Daniel. I told them he would be away until this evening, but they say you made the appointment by phone. So?’
Verity stood, frowning. ‘Well, so I did. But it was for tomorrow, not today.’
‘They’re quite sure it was for this afternoon, dear.’
‘It wasn’t, I’m quite sure. It’s in his engagement book—Friday the twenty-fifth. But all right, Mother. I’ll see to it,’ Verity hurried out.
In Daniel’s room Ira Cusack introduced her languid-looking companion as Guy Tabor, her chief, then said, ‘Look, this is pretty inept of you, you know. Guy is a busy man on a tight schedule, and when I make an appointment for him, he surely has a right to expect it to be kept?’
Verity apologized, ‘I’m sorry—that you’ve both made the journey for nothing. But you’ve mistaken the date we arranged. It was tomorrow, the twenty-fifth. You’ll remember I told you Mr. Wyatt would be away today?’
‘That was yesterday, the twenty-third,’ claimed Ira. ‘You said—’
‘That the High Master would be in London on the first date you suggested, and then I offered you the twenty-fifth, which I confirmed aloud over the phone when you accepted it.’
Ira’s lips thinned. ‘It was the twenty-fourth,’ she insisted.
‘It couldn’t have been. I had it in black and white in front of me that for both yesterday and today appointments simply weren’t “on” for Mr. Wyatt. I can also prove tomorrow’s entry from his engagement book if you like,’ Verity insisted in her turn.
‘And if I had it here, I could prove the reverse from ours,’ snapped Ira. As Guy Tabor concealed a yawn behind his fingers she turned to him. ‘I assure you, Guy, this was no muddle of mine. But do we come back again tomorrow, or hang on and wait for the man until he does come back?’
Guy Tabor shot gold-linked cuffs and looked at his watch. ‘Darling,’ he drawled, ‘you should know I’m due at the producers’ meeting at six. No, we’ll have to see this chap tomorrow, bore though the whole thing is.’ Apart from his ‘How d’you do’ to Verity it was his only contribution to the exchange, and as they left together Verity had the impression that ‘great man’ though he might be in his sphere, it was Ira who was the r
eal power behind his throne.
Verity went back to her vigil with Nash, reassuring her mother that the mistake hadn’t been her own. Of this she was certain. But any such doubt of her efficiency rankled with her and her anxiety to explain matters to Daniel did something for her that evening by overlying her deeper worry for Nash. She knew Daniel had a dinner engagement, which meant she must waylay him between his return from London and changing to go out. But before he came in a small miracle happened. Nash stood up!
Painfully he lumbered over the lip of his basket, took one step ... two ... three, to lay his muzzle on her lap as she sat on the floor, scarcely daring to breathe ... only hoping and marvelling that she saw what she saw ... praying that it would happen again.
It did not. She waited a long time, then lifted him back into his basket, agreeing with Mrs. Lytton that they wouldn’t trouble Mr. Cody again that night. In the meanwhile Daniel had returned and gone to his suite and afterwards to his study, where she found him about to leave again.
‘Hullo,’ he greeted her. ‘No “shop”, please, for I’m rather late. Oh, but I forgot—how is Nash?’
Full of Nash’s small rally, Verity described it to him, then said, ‘I’m afraid this is “shop”, but I thought you should hear it tonight. You remember the Stately Schools thing? Well, Miss Cusack and Mr. Tabor turned up for their appointment this afternoon.’
Daniel stared, frowning. ‘But you knew I was to be away! Why had you made it for this afternoon?’
‘Of course I knew. And I hadn’t. I’d made it for tomorrow, the twenty-fifth.’
‘In other words the mistake was on their side. How sure are you of that?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘All the same, it’s annoying to both parties, this kind of thing. As you made the appointment by phone, why didn’t you confirm it by letter?’