“I think we all deserve a little extra rest tonight,” he remarked. “Don’t stay up too long, Geoff, and see to the lights before you come up, won’t you?”
He waited for Trudie to precede him up the wide, curving stairs, and although she had never felt less like sleep in her life Trudie obediently went ahead, saying good night outside her own bedroom door.
Across the narrow corridor the door of the guest room was tightly shut and no sound came from within. Crossing her own room, without switching on the light but going to sit on the wide window seat to gaze out over the moonlit yard, Trudie wondered about the woman across the corridor. How real had been the tears she had waited for Philip to dry? How much of this supposed loneliness and feeling of being forlorn and bereft was really her own doing?
“I suppose I’d feel the same, in her shoes.” Trudie tried to be fair, but even in her wildest dreams she could not see herself exchanging the sort of glances she had seen Veronica exchanging with Philip, with any other man in the world. “Especially if I’d been married to him and lost him,” she thought, feeling desolate herself.
“I must try to be kinder,” she resolved. “Everything over here must be strange to her; our way of life, our conversation—no show-business talk—everything. I must try to see things through her eyes; maybe that will help me to understand.”
She broke off her thoughts as she heard a tap on her bedroom door. At first she thought she must have been mistaken, so light was the sound, but it was repeated softly and insistently. Without pausing to wonder Trudie felt she knew instinctively who was there. She slid off the seat and stood up, facing the door.
“Come in, Veronica,” she called softly. “Switch on the light by the door, please.”
A moment later the room was flooded with light. Veronica, in a clinging dressing gown of some filmy scarlet material edged with white fur, stood looking at her, blinking a little in the light. She leaned back on the door as if she found its support really necessary.
“Come right in, won’t you?” Trudie invited, her newly made resolve to be kind urging her on. “Couldn’t you sleep either?”
“I’ve been lying there in the dark,” she said suddenly and with concentrated passion in her voice, “imagining you lying here worrying about Philip’s kissing me.” She brought out the words deliberately, watching Trudie’s face closely. With a tremendous effort that she hoped was invisible, Trudie gave a little laugh, surprising herself.
“That?” she asked airily. “But you explained all that at the time. Philip doesn’t think any more about it.” She hoped she was speaking the truth, but whether she was or not Veronica had to be convinced that she was! “Neither do I. We both know it was of no importance, an impulsive gesture of comfort. You’re not to worry about it at all,” she ended kindly.
Veronica stared at her as though she could not believe her ears. Inhaling deeply, she spoke slowly, as if still trying to convince herself she had heard aright.
“I think you’re wonderful,” came her husky tones. “Most girls would have had me pack my bags and leave. It’s very rarely one finds someone with such understanding.” There was the faintest hesitation before the last word. “You’d never believe,” she went on in a confidential tone, “just how much trouble this sort of thing has caused in my life during the past few years. Men have always been drawn to me, attracted to me,” she paused a moment and added hastily, “I don’t mean they love me,” her tone implying regret, Trudie thought cynically, “but there’s nothing I can do about it.”
With an effort Trudie refrained from pointing out there was a great deal she could do about it by controlling glances, her veiled invitations and suggestions, but she held her tongue. Dimly she could sense an appeal behind the other girl’s words, but what it was she could not fathom. How was she to know that Veronica’s cross was the inability to really love, to give love from herself; her curse to find she was attractive inspiring only desire that, once assuaged, was of no more interest.
By then Trudie was too tired to worry and wonder any more; all she wanted now was for Veronica to go back to her own room and leave her in peace with both her thoughts and her dreams. She rose and stretched luxuriously, simulating a yawn.
“Well,” she remarked brightly, “now that’s cleared up and you know we’re not going to ask you to leave or anything foolish like that, let’s both get some sleep or we’ll both look like wrecks in the morning, and I, at any rate, haven’t really got over last night as yet.”
Reluctantly, but with no alternative offered, Veronica gathered the filmy folds of her gown about her and opened the door. With her hand still on the knob she said soulfully. “Thank you, Trudie. I won’t forget this. I’m sorry if it did worry you at the time. Good night.”
“Good night,” Trudie said. “Happy dreams!” But when the door had closed she returned to her seat by the window. She sat for a long time, staring out into the yard where she and her twin had played in childhood and where, growing up, they had shared so many hopes, dreams and fears. She wondered, with a new ache in her heart, what sort of a life he had led in his months of marriage to a woman like Veronica.
Any lingering doubts that Trudie might have had regarding her interview with Veronica the night after the celebration party were dispelled, gradually but surely, in the ensuing days and weeks. Whether or not anyone else noticed she could not tell, but Philip was making a heroic stand against whatever fascination he had so far found in Veronica. It seemed to Trudie that he turned more and more to her as though for support, certain she would do all she could to help.
“I wasn’t wrong,” she told herself some days later, watching Veronica’s face as she turned away from Philip out in the yard. “Whatever it was she wanted him to do for her, he has obviously refused, pleasantly but firmly,” Trudie thought. “I wonder what she’s thinking?”
Veronica’s thoughts were always a mystery. Although she had now been with them almost three weeks they knew as little about her life in the States and with Garth, as they had known before she came to them. If they attempted to talk of things they hoped might interest her: current shows, films, newspaper gossip, she would immediately withdraw even further into herself, answering only in monosyllables. Very quickly she would make some excuse to leave the room, not returning until she was certain they were all absorbed in some different topic.
“Malcolm must be right,” Trudie admitted to herself with reluctance because she did not wish to believe the evidence of her own senses. “She must have something to hide ... but what can it be? If it’s anything about Garth, surely we should be the first people she would turn to...”
She broke off her musings as Veronica approached her while she was putting supports behind some heavy-headed late double tulips.
“I wanted Philip to give me a driving lesson,” she began, half-pouting like a child denied of its toy, “but he refused. I’ve had a little money come to me this morning.” Trudie knew Veronica had received a letter from America that morning, but beyond saying it was from a girl with whom she had shared a room for a time just before she contacted them, she had vouchsafed no information. “I thought I’d buy myself a little car from that garage at the end of the village. I did offer it to your father—the money, I mean—for my being here, but he won’t take any of it,” she added almost defensively. “So I thought I’d find some way of getting around on my own for a bit. I don’t know how you all stick it out here, just the same old routine, same old faces, day after day and never a change.”
“You get used to it, after a few years,” Philip remarked conversationally, strolling across the lawn to join them but seating himself carefully at Trudie’s side. “You need an occupation, Veronica. Not just chasing around in a second-hand car on roads you don’t know and without any driving experience either. As for lessons, Charley Marshall is as good a teacher as anybody. He runs the driving school over at Fellfield and he’s a first-class instructor, not my sort of job at all. I’d never have the patience for one th
ing, and for another I’d be afraid to risk my own neck while other people were learning how to avoid breaking their own. Not my cup of tea at all.” He grinned at Trudie. “I don’t think I’d do it, even for you,” he ended, as though, she thought, they were engaged and that sort of chaffering could be expected between them.
“You don’t need to,” she answered him lightly and in the same vein. “I’ve had a license three and a half years now ... clean as a new pin!”
“Malcolm’s just coming in.” Philip had turned as Malcolm’s neat gray compact swung between the gates of The Cedars. “Get him to run you over to Charley’s now. I would if I were you. Malcolm knows Charley well, I think. He’d put in a good word for you, maybe even help you choose the right kind of car. Charley often knows where you can find a bargain.”
“You don’t have to make it so plain that you’d like to be rid of me!” Veronica said in a snappish tone quite unlike her usual slow, husky way of speaking. “Malcolm,” she prophesied, “will say he’s too busy... but I’ll ask him, all the same.”
Both Philip and Trudie watched in silence as Veronica went to the side of Malcolm’s car. They were rewarded a few minutes later by the sight of her climbing into the seat beside him as he swung open the door in invitation.
“Maybe we ought to have sent her to your father,” Philip said a little uneasily. “I only hope,” he ended as he caught her faint, rewarding smile, “I’m not pushing Malcolm into anything likely to cause him distress.
“Malcolm is a very different person from anyone else I’ve ever known,” Trudie told him. “He’ll never let his emotions rule his head. He’ll give them so much rein and then ... check! You’ll see when he comes back,” she prophesied. “He’ll be exactly as he always is: cool, self-controlled and complete master of himself and whatever situation Veronica has contrived to arrange.”
But when Malcolm returned he left the triumphant Veronica to hold the floor in the lounge with her story of the “fabulous little car at a truly bargain price” that Charley had found for her, and to elaborate the story of the arrangement for her lessons.
Dr. Hislop, who had popped in to snatch a cup of tea, looked up startled as the lounge door banged after his eldest son, and when a second or so later the sound of Malcolm’s bedroom door slamming followed it, he put down his cup and saucer carefully, made his excuses and went out. Trudie looked after him anxiously. There was no doubt in her mind that the old gentleman had sensed that his boy was disturbed in some way and was anxious to help if he could.
He tapped on Malcolm’s door and was immediately rewarded by the usual distant tones bidding him enter. Malcolm was standing by the window, staring out moodily, but he swung around as his father entered the room, giving the slow smile that automatically came when greeting any of his family.
“Sorry I stormed out like that, Dad,” he apologized, “but I didn’t want to have to tell Veronica just what I thought of her in front of you. Though,” he added ruefully, “she must have a pretty good idea of my feelings on the matter. I’m afraid I made them pretty plain on the way home.”
“Just what,” asked Dr. Hislop, methodically packing his pipe and with a twinkle in his eye he deliberately adopted Malcolm’s more customary precise tones and legalized phraseology, “is she alleged to have done?”
“Only what is obviously so natural to her that it comes as easy as breathing to the rest of us.” Malcolm seemed resigned. “If I thought it was deliberate—” he began and stopped.
“If you thought what was deliberate?” queried the doctor, placidly puffing out clouds of blue, fragrant smoke, “then what would you do?”
“If I thought her way of ... I don’t like the expression, but it’s the only one I can use ... making up to every man she meets until she gets what she wants from him was deliberate, I’d go to any lengths to expose her as a fraud and deceiver. But”—Malcolm sounded genuinely puzzled—“I don’t think it is deliberate. I don’t know whether or not it’s part of her training as an actress, to be able to put it on and off as an act, or whether it’s just something that comes naturally to her. I’ve never met anyone like her. She intrigues me ... and infuriates me ... at one and the same time.” Dr. Hislop gave a little chuckle. This was something he felt he could understand, but the smile and chuckle were gone in an instant as he reflected on certain things about this unknown daughter-in-law of his that puzzled and infuriated him, tolerant though he was.
“She is different,” he admitted slowly, “and I don’t know in quite what way, either. There’s one point about her that does puzzle me. Several times I’ve tried to talk to her, draw her out, about Garth. About what sort of life they led over there together, their friends, his work up to the time they went on that fateful vacation. And always she puts me off, or goes out of the room, or threatens to dissolve into tears ... anything but talk about it as to whose place they were at or anything. She closes up like a clam. Do you think,” he shot a glance at his son from under his bushy eyebrows, “you could find out anything more ... in a professional capacity, I mean? Anything that didn’t come out at the inquest. I presume there was one, to have a coroner’s verdict, but Veronica won’t discuss it.”
“There’s nothing more I can do than I have already done, Dad.” Malcolm’s reply surprised Dr. Hislop. “Like you,” Malcolm went on, “I’ve never been satisfied with the little we were told, and I’ve done my best to find out something—anything—more, but it’s hopeless. I think we shall have to resign ourselves to the fact that unless Veronica volunteers information we shall never know any more than we do at present. I’ve exhausted every possible source I can think of, professionally or otherwise.”
“In that case,” Dr. Hislop rose heavily from the low chair in which he had seated himself, “there’s no more to be said.”
“But there is something I want to discuss with you,” Malcolm put in, halting his father on the way to the door. “One of the partners has found himself an apartment in Fellfield. The junior chap I told you about, who has just become a partner. He’d like someone to share it with him for a time. I told him I might be interested.”
“You mean ... live there?” The sheer incredulity in his father’s voice caused Malcolm to give an involuntary wince, but he stuck out his chin doggedly and reiterated, “Just for a time ... it might be a good idea. There are lots of reasons for being in town for a while. I miss most of the meetings, lots of things I ought to attend...”
“You have a car,” Dr. Hislop pointed out, but without much conviction. Suddenly he was certain there was more behind this than he was aware of. Of all his children this was the one who never acted in any way without good reason.
“You must do as you think best, of course,” he said heavily, moving to the door and opening it, “but remember, son, this is your home ... whenever you want to use it as such, either now, as you are, single and unattached, or ... later ... for as long as I live.” He did not wait for a reply but went out abruptly, closing the door quietly behind him. Malcolm was alone, still staring through the window and reflecting on all the changes that had come about since Veronica had entered their ordered lives.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Trudie was anxiously awaiting her father’s return to the lounge. He had barely left the room before Dora Stacey had driven up, asking anxiously if they were all ready. Philip was the first to recover his scattered wits and realize that Dora was referring to the opening of the new extension, which they were all to attend that afternoon.
“I’d forgotten that’s why I’m off duty!” he exclaimed. Although he laughed and made light of his absent-mindedness, Trudie noticed that his glance had sped in Veronica’s direction as though confirming that there sat the cause of his forgetfulness.
“I’m ready, anyway,” he announced, “and you are, too, aren’t you, Trudie? Dr. Hislop said he’d dropped in for ‘a quick cup of tea,’ but I expect he meant he wanted one before we went on to the official opening.”
“I have to change my dress
,” Trudie had said then, but she made no move until her father re-entered the lounge. One glance at his face told her there was something very wrong, and, oblivious of the others, she moved quickly to his side.
“What’s the matter,” she asked quietly. “You don’t look well.”
“It’s nothing.” Dr. Hislop looked around the room and as his glance met Dora’s they all saw that he suddenly remembered he had a previous engagement. “Bless my soul”—he made an enormous effort to pull himself together—“I’d completely forgotten the opening was this afternoon, after I’ve raced through morning rounds and as many calls as I could to be sure and get there on time. It’s a very good thing you like to be well ahead of schedule, Dora, and that you arranged to call here first.”
“Is there anything I can do,” Trudie was insisting, “before I run up and change? You look as though you’ve had a shock.”
“In a way I have, darling.” Dr. Hislop had never kept secrets in his family and, because, an old and valued friend and a hitherto unknown daughter-in-law were present, saw no reason for making a secret of what troubled him now. “Malcolm has just informed me that he’s thinking of sharing an apartment in Fellfield with the new partner in his firm. I’d never dreamed of such a thing. I thought he was happy at home ... that we all were. He has no girlfriend, no particular reason for leaving...”
“He may have a girlfriend you don’t know about, father-in-law,” Veronica put in quietly, using the pet name she had adopted for Dr. Hislop and Trudie was certain her father, perhaps subconsciously, resented it.
“No, no, no!” he said now, so vehemently that Trudie and Dora looked at him in sharp amazement, but he recovered himself quickly, passing off the whole incident. “I suppose he just wants a change,” he remarked briskly. “I remember I was much the same around that age. Well,” he glanced at his watch, “he can always come back here when he’s tired, as I’ve already told him. I think we have about half an hour before we need set off,” he announced. “Trudie, would you slip into the kitchen on your way up to change, please, and ask Mrs. Emma to make some fresh-coffee as quickly as she can?”
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