But Percy was whistling ‘Lead kindly light, amidst the encircling gloom’ quietly to himself from the floor of his cage and didn’t seem to hear her.
Seventeen
DAVID STAYED AT BROADHAYES for over a week after he’d left Felicity. Because she thought that he was going straight back to London she had never asked the name of his friend near Moreton-hampstead and he felt that it gave him a breathing space. He was delighted to see Tim and Miranda getting on so well and was interested to see that they both had separate bedrooms. Since Mrs Gilchrist had returned immediately after their return from America, David couldn’t decide whether this arrangement was intended to observe the proprieties or was due to Miranda’s rather stringent views on sex before marriage. Whatever it was, they both seemed very happy about it and by the time Miranda and David returned to London, Tim had asked and received David’s blessing on their union. If David had doubts he kept them to himself. It was possible that their marriage would not be exposed to the strains beneath which his own had bent and buckled and it was no good being pessimistic. He was rather more concerned with his own behaviour towards Felicity and on his last evening, when Miranda had gone up to have a bath, he bared his soul to Tim.
‘I feel as if I really used her,’ he said as he and Tim sat in the library nursing their after-dinner brandies. ‘I simply got carried away, d’you see? It was just one of those moments that come so rarely. Everything was absolutely right.’
‘Perhaps she felt the same.’
‘No.’ David shook his head. ‘I thought so, too, at the beginning. By the time I realised that she was taking it seriously it was much too late. She’s sitting there waiting for me to telephone and I feel an Al swine.’
‘Perhaps you should view it all in the light of her past behaviour,’ ventured Tim.’ She deceived her husband for years and tried to break up Thea’s marriage. Perhaps she deserves a little comeuppance.’
‘Perhaps she does.’ David shrugged. ‘So do we all, I imagine, one way or another. I’d just prefer not to be the person administering it. Mine has not been such a blameless life that I feel qualified to judge. A little dalliance to take her mind off George was one thing. Leading her up the garden path, abusing her hospitality and then walking out on her is quite another.’
‘Oh, dear.’ Tim looked at David anxiously. ‘This has really upset you, hasn’t it? I’m sorry, David. It’s all my fault. I dreamed up the whole thing and then left you to it. I’m really sorry.’
‘It’s never been my way, d’you see? I always like to let the ladies think they’ve cast me out rather than the other way about. That way you keep them as friends.’ He grimaced. ‘Not that I want you to think 1 make a habit of it.’
‘Of course not.’ Tim felt a great surge of affection for David and cast about for some way out of the dilemma. ‘Perhaps you could remain friends with Felicity.’
‘I think not, dear boy. Felicity would want a great deal more than that.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know what to do about it so doubtless I shall take the coward’s way out and do nothing.’
‘Does she know your address in London?’
David frowned a little and then shrugged. ‘I don’t remember giving her the actual address. She knows it’s Chelsea. She’s certainly got the telephone number. I had to give her that. But she was just so sure that I was coming back that she didn’t really press for my address.’ He swallowed his brandv. ‘Christ, I feel a shit!’
Tim reached for the decanter and refilled David’s glass.
‘I don’t know what to say. If it’s any comfort, it certainly took her mind off George. When Thea telephoned to tell us all about her book she said that they were both terribly happy and that they’ve decided to start a family. Although that was in confidence, of course. She sounded over the moon. I only wish my grandmother could have heard her. She was really worried, you know, and she wasn’t at all the sort of person to panic unnecessarily.’
‘Oh, well. That’s something at least.’ David tried to look more cheerful. ‘Let’s hope I’ve got it wrong and Felicity won’t be as upset as I fear. We’ll have to see how it goes. I’d be delighted to think that we could be friends but I just don’t think she sees it like that. Never mind. No good going over and over it. Let’s dwell on more cheerful things. So when’s the wedding going to be?’
THEA, DRIVING OVER TO have lunch with Harriet and Polly, felt that her cup was full to overflowing. Life seemed to be getting better and better. There was no shadow now on her marriage, George was completely her own, so excited about her work, and even Felicity had looked so young and happy when they’d met that Thea didn’t have to feel that she was taking her own happiness at someone else’s expense. Then there was all the excitement about the book, the trip to London to the publishers and the plans for a second book and, as if to gild the lily, there was this latest joy. Thea knew without any doubt at all that she was pregnant. It might be only by a matter of weeks but she knew it absolutely. She felt so happy that it was frightening. Why she should have been chosen to have all these blessings whilst there was so much sorrow and misery and violence was beyond her. She rocketed between bliss and terror. Supposing something happened to George or to herself before all these wonders could be fulfilled? She tried to cast such negative thoughts from her and dwell on her joy. Her one sadness was that Hermione had not lived to see these wonderful events. Her faith, however, assured her that Hermione knew of them and was with her in spirit, encouraging her and supporting her, which to Thea was an infinitely comforting thought.
When she arrived, Harriet was upstairs dealing with Hugh and Polly let Thea in. Ozzy, the puppy, bounded to greet her whilst Max paced slowly behind him looking upon Ozzy’s high spirits with benevolent tolerance. He’d been young once and he didn’t grudge Ozzy his hour in the sun.
‘You’re so much bigger than Jessie,’ Thea told him as she fended him off and held out a hand to Max. ‘You make her look so small.’ She followed them all into the kitchen.
‘You look wonderful,’ said Polly enviously. ‘Positively glowing. So what’s new?’
‘Nothing,’ said Thea, hugging her latest secret to herself. ‘What about you?’
‘I’m so thrilled I can hardly breathe,’ said Polly solemnly. ‘Paul thinks he’s discovered a new species of Siphlonuridae. My dear, imagine how world-shattering. He’s examined its wing veins and its genitalia and he’s certain that it’s a find. I’ve been praying and fasting. Not a morsel of food has passed my lips since the great discovery. My life can never be the same again.’
‘Take no notice of her.’ Harriet arrived in the kitchen and grinned at Thea. ‘It must be very exciting for Paul.’
‘Well, of course, dear Fiona found it,’ said Polly. ‘Naturally. So Paul’s going to name it after her. That’s how it’s done. Well, it’s only right. It looks just like her!’
‘Poor Polly.’ Harriet went to organise the lunch. ‘It must be exhausting, living in the rarefied air of scientific discovery.’
‘Percy the Parrot’s much more my line,’ agreed Polly. ‘Great stuff! You’ll be able to read it to Huge, Harriet, when he’s older.’
‘I wish you wouldn’t call him that,’ said Harriet, piling food on to the table. ‘You are his godmother, after all.’
‘Can’t resist it,’ said Polly, breaking off a corner of cheese. ‘He’s so small. Anyway, I shall buy him Percy the Parrot books when he’s older. At least Thea won’t have to worry about what to read to her children, if she has any.’
There was a silence of such an unusual quality that Harriet turned from her soup-stirring. Both of them looked at Thea.
‘You’re pregnant,’ cried Harriet.
Thea stared back at them, her cheeks turning scarlet and her eyes glowing like stars.
‘You are!’ cried Harriet. ‘Oh, Thea! How wonderful!’
She dropped the soup spoon and fled round the table to hug Thea, who hugged her back, still quite unable to speak for fear that she might cry.
‘Jesus wept!’ said Polly morosely. ‘That’s all I needed. Don’t say I’ve got to fork out for another bloody rattle!’
WHEN DAVID ARRIVED BACK in London there were no fewer than six messages from Felicity on his answering machine. It was Miranda who had persuaded him to use this device, which protected him from time-wasters when he was working, and he soon came to rely on it. He tended to sift through the calls at the end of each day, returning some and not others. Miranda was quite ruthless, helping him to decide on the borderline cases, and he was usually happy to give in to her. He hated using the telephone. On this occasion, however, it was he who got to the machine first, listened to the messages and quickly wiped the tape. He did not want to explain in detail to Miranda just how close he and Felicity had become. He and Tim had tacitly allowed her to believe that he had been nothing more than a guest and David knew she would be horrified to know how very intimate the relationship had become. He felt hot with shame as he listened to Felicity’s voice becoming more and more anxious as the messages proceeded although, even then, his main feeling was one of relief that he was ex-directory and he thought it was unlikely that she would turn up on the doorstep. He decided that he must write to her, without using his address, and explain. His heart sank at the thought.
Miranda telephoned Tim to tell him of their safe arrival and, when she had finished and was preparing some supper, David turned the machine back on. Even as he did so he wondered what on earth he would do if Felicity were to telephone and Miranda should answer. His question was answered the next morning. Miranda had contacted her temping agency to advise them that she was back and prepared to work for a week or so before she returned to Devon. When the telephone rang she answered it, hoping that it was an offer of work. She could hardly believe that David had been stupid enough to give Felicity his number and, being Miranda, decided that the thing should be nipped in the bud immediately. She said stiffly that Mr Porteous was working and on no account could be disturbed. Felicity, imagining her to be a housekeeper or secretary, asked if she would give him a message and grudgingly Miranda agreed. The nature of the message was perfectly discreet but implied a degree of relationship which caused Miranda to furrow her brow. There was something going on here and she intended to find out what it was.
AFTER DAVID’S DEPARTURE, SEVERAL days passed before Felicity began to feel uneasy. To begin with she embarked on an orgy of cleaning. During his stay she had somewhat neglected this aspect of life and now she cleaned the whole house from top to bottom. In some ways it was a psychological cleansing. She felt that all her old life was being swept away and she was preparing for a new beginning. By the end of the second day everything positively gleamed and sparkled and Felicity had the beginning of one of her heads. She longed for a drink but knew that alcohol would make it far worse and contented herself with a cup of coffee. She sat in a large comfortable armchair, listening to a concert and thinking about David. Or rather she continued to think about him but in a more conscious way, for he was never out of her thoughts. Despite her physical exhaustion, she felt relaxed, loose, easy, and a deep contentment filled her. She rolled her head against the cushions, stretching out her legs and laughing a little at herself, glad that no one could see her in this state. Love, the genuine, knocked-sideways, authentic emotion, had come very late. It was as though some dammed-up spring had burst and was watering and nourishing all the parched, dried-up areas of her life. Emotions flowered and happiness blossomed and she felt weak and gentle and vulnerable for the first time in her life. There was no self-interest in her love. All her care was for David, his well-being, his happiness.
After forty-eight hours she began to wonder a little that he hadn’t telephoned but as much because she was concerned for his safety as for any other reason. At last this anxiety began to take hold and Felicity started to worry. She had been trained in a hard school, used to being unable to hear from Mark—or George—for weeks at a time, never having known the luxury of having either of them at the end of a telephone. You didn’t whine and complain, you just got on with it. This, however, was a whole new experience and she didn’t yet know the rules. Added to which there was David’s career and temperament to take into consideration. She had seen him at work, absorbed, forgetful of everything around him, and she wondered if this might have happened. He had told her that he’d been away far longer than he ought to have been and she didn’t want to start off by seeming to be a nagger. Nevertheless, by the end of the third day, she threw caution to the wind and telephoned the London number, unaware that David was still at Broadhayes. Hearing his voice shocked her into stillness for a few seconds before her heart began to bump. She burst into speech and then realised, as David’s voice continued, that she was connected to an answering machine. She stopped speaking abruptly, feeling quite unnecessarily foolish and, at the same time, overwhelmed with disappointment. She slammed the receiver down and then wondered if she should have left a message.
She walked away from the telephone, deliberating. Surely there could be no harm in a friendly message, hoping that he was safely back? Why should she feel so nervous about it? It was perfectly reasonable that she should feel concern for him and it was possible that he might have mislaid the piece of paper on which she had carefully written her telephone number. This sudden anxiety made her decide to try again. Fortifying herself with a strong gin and tonic, she redialled and listened to David’s voice courteously entreating callers to leave names, telephone numbers, messages, after the tone. Felicity waited for the high-pitched buzz and spoke into the emptiness at the other end. She made her voice light and social, stumbled over her telephone number and replaced the receiver feeling a perfect fool. She finished her drink quickly and went to prepare her supper. Perhaps he might call her later.
At the end of a week, she was feeling desperate. Abandoning pride, she had made several calls and left messages and, on other occasions, talked to a self-possessed-sounding female who told her that David was busy, out, unavailable. She promised to give him Felicity’s messages but would not be drawn into conversation. Frustrated, hurt, unhappy, Felicity took to roaming up and down, up and down, gazing out of windows, staring into the darkness at night, remembering the feel of David’s arms around her, his lips on her skin, the comfort of his presence. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks as she huddled beneath the quilt waiting for the dawn, hoping that it would usher in a day during which she would receive an explanation of this terrible muddle. She would not have asked for much: a telephone call, a short note. The Navy had taught her to live alone, contented with the minimum of contact, but she could think of no reason for this unbearable silence.
When Felicity had gone up to bed on the night of David’s departure she had found a sketch on her dressing table. It was of a bridge over the River Dart and a part of the bank with a group of foxgloves glowing against the sun-warmed stone. They had spent some happy hours in this place and Felicity caught it up with a cry of delight. It had been lightly colour-washed and the light danced on the water which seemed to flow and splash even as she looked at it. Across the corner David had written, ‘Bless you for everything. It’s been perfect. With love. D.’ She had wept then but her tears were joyous, grateful, happy tears, confident in his love and in their future together. Now she stared at the sketch with eyes that were swollen with quite different tears. It was the last thing she laid down at night and the first thing she picked up in the morning. It was all that she had left of him.
Eighteen
WHEN KATE SAW HER in Tavistock and invited her to lunch, Felicity accepted. She simply couldn’t bear another day sitting by a telephone which did not ring. Kate, who imagined that Felicity was still missing George, kept the conversation as impersonal as possible and Felicity, clinging to her pride, tried to appear cheerful. It was evident that Kate was living with great economy and Felicity felt a twinge of remorse that she hadn’t thought to bring her some offering towards the meal. She had been too deeply immersed in her own fears
to think about it. She looked about the kitchen and at Kate herself, dressed in rubbed cords and an old guernsey. She looked thin and tired and Felicity felt a stronger twinge.
‘Are you keeping well, Kate?’ she asked, finding a momentary relief in thinking about someone else. ‘How do you cope financially? I suppose you never hear from Mark?’
‘Not since he went to Canada. None of us hear from him. He never even sends the bovs a birthday card or anything at Christmas. Nothing. Can you imagine it? Not that I wanted anything from him. My brother helps out. He uses the house as a base. You’ve met Chris, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, I think so. Even so, it must be difficult to make ends meet.’
‘I don’t,’ said Kate simply. ‘I should have taken a proper job, of course, rather than trying to make money with breeding and my obedience classes and things. But I wanted to be around when the twins were home for their holidays. Anyway, we’ve managed so far. My one terror is that Chris meets someone and decides to get married.’ She set a dish containing a shepherd’s pie on the table. ‘Not very exciting, I’m afraid. I’m not much of a cook, as you probably remember.’
Felicity sat down and stared at the dish. She wasn’t hungry, she was simply tired. She felt exhausted. She looked up and met Kate’s eyes. It seemed at that moment as though Kate knew everything, although that was impossible.
‘Are you OK?’ Kate’s expression was one of absolute understanding and compassion and Felicity felt her misery rising to the surface. She nodded and fiddled with her fork. Kate watched her for a moment and then began to serve the pie. ‘Sorry I couldn’t offer you a drink. A proper one, that is. I’ve got some cheap plonk here if you feel up to it?’
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