‘Shall I have them made up for you?’ he asked quizzically as Ismay raised her head again.
‘Don’t bother.’ Her tone which she hoped would be cold and aloof came out more like a small girl’s when hauled before the headmaster.
‘No wish to be able to regard the entire human race with more tolerant eyes?’ Lewis asked.
Ismay set her teeth. He was not going to let her get off lightly, she could see that now, and she forced her stumbling brain into some sort of coherent thought. ‘Not at the moment,’ she said, and now her voice really was icy and she looked across the desk directly into his eyes. ‘A great many of my fellow humans have given me good reason to regard them with caution. In hospital, I’ve seen old people who never see a visitor. Young children left screaming by mothers who think it the nurses’ business to console their youngsters during visiting hours while they themselves go out and play Bingo. I’ve seen young mums waiting to show off the new baby to husbands who never turn up because they think a football match more important. And the nurses themselves, run off their feet, sometimes for over twelve hours a day when there’s an epidemic or a shortage of staff for some reason. People brought in badly injured after they’ve been knocked down by a hit-and-run driver...’
Ismay’s voice tailed off as Lewis Kynoch held up his hand. ‘I’m convinced you think you have a solid case on which to hinge your prejudices.’ His voice was more than a little censorious and Ismay began to wish she had not answered his needling remarks as she had. Firmly she pushed down all feelings of resentment and bit her bottom lip to prevent more hot words pouring out.
She was amazed at her own reaction. She could not remember when she had last felt such overwhelming anger, and certainly never against any of the males of her acquaintanceship. Had she become intolerant and self-righteous during her association and engagement to Peter? Had she even begun to sit in judgment on others as he had often done, and think that everyone with whom he came in contact ought to come up to his particular standards?
Because she had to face it squarely now—success had not improved Peter McNeil. An only child, spoiled by his parents and clever at school, things had fallen into his lap too easily. He had hardly bothered to write while he was in America and on his return seemed indifferent to her feelings. Yet when Peter finally decided to marry, he had expected her to be delighted over the sudden and unexpected decision. But years of living a self-contained existence had had its own backlash and Ismay had found herself approaching marriage feeling no joy at the thought of living the rest of her life as Mrs. Peter McNeil. It had been an ordeal just to keep her inward unhappiness undetected.
She was glad Lewis Kynoch turned away and continued to put his papers in order. By the time he had gathered his files together, locked the cards which he had been sorting into a small steel cabinet on the other side of the room, and checked that he had everything he required in his briefcase, she had pulled herself together. She even looked up and smiled at him, a faint apology in her eyes as he came across and inquired kindly, ‘All set?’
As she stood up he glanced swiftly round the room before he ushered her out into the street. When they reached the car which she had parked a short distance away Lewis made no effort to get into the driving seat, and rather nervously Ismay took her place, inserted the ignition key, engaged the gears and set the car in motion. They were both silent for most of the journey back, but as they turned off the main road to approach Hepthorpewaite Lewis Kynoch spoke. His apology was curt. ‘I’m sorry for what I said back there in the consulting rooms—it’s really none of my business. Forgive me.’
Ismay did not know what to reply. She took her eyes momentarily off the road and glanced at him, but Lewis was looking away from her through the nearside window and his face was rather stern.
‘Putting me in my place,’ was the uncharitable thought which flickered through her mind as she drove in the direction of Little Grange. But she had no time to dwell on Lewis’s unexpected words, for she was beginning to feel nervous about driving up the approach to the house. She had attempted it once, and then to her own disgust had stalled the engine. It had not mattered at the time because she had only the girls as passengers, but on this occasion she must make no mistake.
As the driveway came into sight Ismay glanced quickly into the driving mirror, revved up the engine, and swinging the car left, took the drive like a runaway horse. They were nearly at the house before she realized that her companion was the victim of a paroxysm of silent laughter. Ismay flashed him an indignant look, noticed his shoulders noiselessly shaking with amusement and saw that tears of mirth stood in his eyes. When she brought the car to a standstill just outside the garage doors Lewis allowed his laughter to bubble over.
‘I’m sorry, but you should have seen your face as you turned into the entrance! I’ve never seen such an expression of concentration on anyone’s face for ages. Were you determined that at all costs you were going to get up that drive no matter what?’
Ismay could not help herself. She had a ready sense of humour and she felt herself responding despite her inclination not to get on terms of familiarity with this man. Somehow she sensed that he could be dangerous to her, but his laughter was so infectious that she found herself giggling uncontrollably beside him. ‘As a matter of fact I was terrified I’d make a mess of it,’ she admitted at last. ‘I’ve only driven into the gateway once, and that was when I had the girls with me a few days ago, and I don’t suppose you’ll be surprised to hear that I stalled the engine and only managed to stop slipping backwards by pulling quickly on the handbrake.’
‘It doesn’t surprise me at all,’ Lewis admitted as he opened the door and swung his long legs on to the drive, ‘but you certainly made no mistake this time, did you?’ and getting out he came round and held the door open for Ismay. ‘It was neck or nothing today.’
She preceded him into the house feeling strangely confused, and that evening she watched discreetly how he and Felicity behaved together. As usual young Mrs. Kynoch was immaculately dressed in a maxi-dress of summer-weight cotton in shades of blue which perfectly enhanced the colour of her eyes. She wore fragile-looking suede sandals on her small feet and one perfect solitaire diamond ring on the third finger of her left hand above the gold wedding ring.
If Ismay had not thought it unlikely she would almost have said that Felicity Kynoch was attempting to flirt with her own husband. Certainly she was being extremely kittenish, for all through supper she had been making arch remarks to Lewis. Old Mrs. Kynoch appeared to notice nothing unusual, although Ismay saw Anne glance once or twice rather curiously across the table towards her mother.
Clare, Ismay noticed, had surreptitiously turned off her hearing aid and was getting on with her meal and taking no part in the general conversation round the supper table. Lewis had addressed several remarks to her before Ismay managed to knock the child’s foot, and Clare looked up and switched on the hearing aid quickly.
Lewis frowned, but he said nothing, merely repeating his past remark. Clare smiled back confidingly and answered him quietly. Nobody else except Lewis and Ismay seemed to have noticed the incident, for which Ismay was secretly glad. Only once had Felicity caught Clare with the hearing aid turned off while Ismay had been nearby and she had been amazed at the torrent of condemnatory words which had poured from the expertly made up rose-tinted mouth. One minute Felicity had been the epitome of a well brought up, normal parent, the next she had been tearing into her daughter like a fishwife.
The child had not answered her mother back, but had stood in silence while Felicity gave vent to her anger. Ismay had been secretly proud of the way in which Clare had behaved, but it had shown her Felicity in a new light, and thereafter Ismay was careful to have as little to do with young Mrs. Kynoch as possible.
But that same evening an incident happened which made Ismay wonder if perhaps Felicity Kynoch had some reason for her apparent discontent with life, for despite the wonderful clothes, her life of leisur
e and the money she obviously spent on entertainment, she did not seem to be a happy woman. The girls had been tucked down for the night and Ismay had retired early to write letters. She was sitting by the open window and could easily recognize the figures of Lewis and Felicity as they came out of the house and started to walk down the garden path.
Suddenly they stopped and an argument appeared to be in progress. Ismay saw Felicity lay a pleading hand on Lewis’s arm and reach up to kiss him on the cheek when suddenly he threw her hand away and striding off, disappeared into the trees which bordered the lawn.
Ismay drew back, afraid she might be seen and wishing she had not witnessed the unhappy incident. She wondered if old Mrs. Kynoch knew of the callous manner in which her son treated his wife or whether she thought it wiser to appear ignorant of their matrimonial problems. Perhaps that was the reason she was usually so occupied with her duties in the home and garden, for Ismay seldom saw the old lady rest until the evening meal had been eaten and cleared away, when she customarily read or watched television.
The following Sunday Mrs. Kynoch, Ismay, Anne and Clare were just leaving for morning church when, to their surprise, Felicity Kynoch walked out of the big front door. ‘Room for me in the back?’ she asked as a sudden surprised silence greeted her appearance, and without comment her two daughters moved over and made room for her to join them. Ismay helped Mrs. Kynoch into the passenger seat and then took her own place behind the wheel, silently wondering why Lewis’s wife had decided to honour them with her company, and on a trip to church, of all places. But during the following days it seemed as if for some unexplained reason Felicity intended to join them on all their expeditions. She accompanied them on a walk after lunch on the Sunday, and Ismay even heard her refusing an invitation from John Ross, a close friend whom she had seen at the house several times. He was a tall erect man, going grey at the temples, a little sombre in character, Ismay judged, and the last person she would have thought that Felicity might favour. But there was no doubt that Major Ross stood high on the list of her intimate friends, and it was therefore mystifying as to why she should refuse an invitation from him in order to walk by the lake with her daughters.
On Thursday of that week Anne was so much better that her grandmother suggested a picnic. Lewis was not expected home for lunch, and they were preparing sandwiches in the kitchen to a running commentary from Mrs. Fletcher peeling potatoes at the sink, when Felicity, daintily dressed in a floral skirt and white high-necked sweater, came in swinging a large bag asking as she crossed the threshold, ‘I hear there’s to be a picnic—mind if I come along?’
Her mother-in-law raised her eyes from the table for a second and looked keenly across the room. Ismay watched the exchange of glances. Felicity Kynoch smiled back at Lewis’s mother, her face completely guileless, and when Mrs. Kynoch returned to her sandwich making with the brief remark, ‘You’re very welcome on any of our expeditions,’ Felicity merely said, ‘Good, I’ll go and collect a coat in case it gets chilly later on,’ and without offering any help with the preparations, she went away again.
But she was waiting in the hall when they finally assembled, ready to depart, and once more Ismay found herself in the driving seat of the runabout. The girls had expressed a desire to show Ismay where Wordsworth and his sister had lived at Dove Cottage in Grasmere, so when she emerged from the driveway, under instruction from Anne sitting in the front passenger seat, Ismay turned the car in the direction of the picturesque road which skirted Thirlmere.
It was a beautiful summer day and a good many other people had had the same thought as themselves; to get out while the weather was fine. Ismay, behind the steering wheel, did not have the same opportunity as the others to look out and enjoy the magnificent countryside through which they were passing. She was kept fully occupied watching the road ahead, and steering clear of some of the glaring faults of other road users.
At last they reached Grasmere and found a convenient spot to park in the shade. Old Mrs. Kynoch elected to stay there while the others walked up to Dove Cottage. ‘I’ve seen it already,’ she said, ‘so I’d prefer to potter around here. I don’t suppose you’ll be more than an hour, by which time we shall all be ready for lunch.’
If Clare and Anne were amazed at their mother’s action in joining the outing they gave no sign, treating her as they usually did with politeness and a hint of wariness. Ismay herself by this time they had adopted as if she were their elder sister. Anne and Clare held her hands, one on either side, as the four of them set out for Dove Cottage. Ismay thought how unnatural a situation it was. Felicity was their mother and yet was the odd man out in the party.
The cottage where Wordsworth had lived was not far from where Ismay had left the car, so that it was not too arduous a walk for Anne, and they were all feeling pleasantly hungry by the time they returned to the car. It did not take long to find a nearby spot to picnic and soon they were tucking into the contents of the large wicker basket which had travelled in the boot. Ismay was not sorry after lunch to hear old Mrs. Kynoch suggest they had a short rest. ‘I don’t want you knocking yourself up, Anne,’ she announced as soon as she had re-packed the lunch basket. ‘Just lie back on the rug and rest your leg for half an hour.’
Felicity Kynoch had already made herself comfortable having had the forethought to bring a cushion with her, and Anne, lying full length on the rug beside her grandmother, obediently closed her eyes. Ismay had been helping Clare to make a daisy chain when she suddenly noticed that if she moved a little to the left she could put her head on a convenient tussock, so she too lay back and looked up at the blue bowl of sky above her. How different this was from the flat Cambridgeshire countryside! There were hills all around them—not the huge overpowering peaks of the Alps which she had often visited with her family, but the kinder, more gentle fells of this particularly beautiful part of England.
It was too early for the heather to be in flower, but she could see darker patches up the hillside to her left where in due course the flowers would open and it would be a haze of purple. Lower down the gorse bushes were a blaze of yellow, and on the other side of the slope almost facing her, she could see dots which she knew to be a flock of sheep moving slowly and contentedly across the green expanse for all the world like little toys on a child’s model.
“We must do this again,’ old Mrs. Kynoch remarked suddenly. ‘It seems ages since we had a picnic.’ Ismay turned her head. She had imagined the old lady to have fallen into a doze. ‘Next time we’ll get Lewis to come with us and go farther afield. Where was that place we used to go and have picnics when Alec was home, Felicity?’
‘Oh, you mean Ravens’ Bay. Yes, it was quite nice there,’ Felicity replied lightly. ‘Lewis and Alec always used to say the bathing was quite good. It was much too cold for me, of course, I’m one of the frailer flowers,’ she explained as Ismay looked across at her. ‘I only venture where it’s warm. Like the Med., for instance.’
Ismay did not think this affected remark deserved a reply and she turned away and gazed towards the hills. ‘Perhaps James and Sally will come as well,’ old Mrs. Kynoch continued. ‘I’ll have a talk with Lewis about it. We might make up a party.’
‘In that case,’ Felicity said, ‘I shall ask John to come along.’
Mrs. Kynoch did not reply to this remark. Perhaps, like Ismay, she did not think Felicity’s comment worthy of a retort. Ismay, who had turned back to look at the speakers, saw the old lady close her eyes and purse her lips for an instant before her whole face relaxed. This time she really was going to have a doze, Ismay thought, secretly amused, and looked to see if Anne also was relaxing properly.
An hour later, refreshed from their siesta the entire party entered the post office. Anne had expressed a desire to buy some postcards to send to one or two of her school friends. As they were walking back to the car, Clare who was holding Ismay’s hand, whispered in her ear, ‘She really wants to send one to her boy-friend, Dick.’ Ismay smiled back and win
ked, making a mental note to ask who Dick was when Felicity was not within earshot.
They were getting into the car after the purchase and dispatch of Anne’s postcards when to her surprise Ismay heard a voice behind her shout, ‘Wait! Ismay!’
She turned as the others looked round in amazement. Hurrying down the street towards them was Ivor Thomas, a broad smile of pleasure lighting his face. He approached to where Ismay was standing by the car and shook her hand as if he were Stanley discovering Livingstone in darkest Africa, she thought secretly to herself. She introduced him to the other members of the party and he insisted on them going back to see his hotel and have afternoon tea.
Old Mrs. Kynoch did not need much persuading, but Felicity, who had received only a cursory glance from Ismay’s admirer, looked a little sulky at such unexpected disinterest and agreed with patent reluctance. It was only a short distance to the guest house which Ivor Thomas and his brother had bought, and really, Ismay thought as they went into the glassed-in entrance hall, it was a good deal nicer than she had imagined.
It was obviously a converted country house and some far-seeing builder had put in large picture windows, so that the general atmosphere was one of space, airiness and light There were one or two guests sitting in the lounge enjoying the sunshine which poured in through the open windows, and when they reached the reception desk, the man whom Ismay recalled seeing at Kendal station came forward and Ivor introduced him as his brother Gareth.
They were taken into the brothers’ private quarters at the rear of the hotel, and before long tea was brought in and even Felicity seemed to have cheered up, mainly, Ismay thought, because Gareth Thomas had shown immediate admiration, eyeing her with every evidence of approval. He more than made up for the apparent indifference of Ivor, who seemed quite unimpressed.
Felicity must be so used to a look of open-mouthed admiration on people’s faces when they first saw her that when it did not appear she felt badly treated. There had been a staff nurse on Ismay’s ward at St. Ninian’s who had precisely the same mentality, Ismay remembered. She usually had first pick of new male members of the medical staff, and although Ismay had never competed for Johnny Cross’s attentions, when he had taken no notice of Nurse Sanderford, she had been really put out that he had turned all his attention on Ismay, and been particularly bitter because Ismay had been so unaware of her triumph.
Healing in the Hills Page 6