Sun and Candlelight

by Betty Neels

  ‘Of course not.’ She braced herself to utter the lie about Anna; jealousy at that very moment was rocking her so violently that she had to take a calming breath. She let it out with a rush when Sarre said quietly: ‘You’ll have no cause to be jealous of Wienand, Irene, just as Alethea knows that she has no reason to worry about me.’ He smiled at them both. ‘We’ve been listening quite shamelessly to you, you know. I’m glad that Alethea and I have—er—influenced you.’

  They saw their guests to the door presently and stood by it in the cool evening, watching the car disappear down the street. ‘She’s such a nice girl,’ said Alethea chattily, anxious to break the silence. ‘They’ll be very happy.’

  Sarre flung an arm round her shoulders. ‘Oh, yes, and why not? That’s a pretty dress you’re wearing.’

  ‘It’s getting old now,’ she said shyly, ‘but you said you liked it and I wanted everything to be just right for Irene…’

  He seemed to understand this obscure remark. ‘Yes, I know.’ He sighed and took his arm away, so that she felt instantly lonely. ‘I have to be at the clinic early in the morning…’

  She went indoors at once. It was always the same, whenever they were together he had some good reason for leaving her. She said now in a colourless voice: ‘It was a lovely evening. Will you be in to lunch tomorrow?’ She was already walking ahead of him, making for the stairs.

  ‘No—tea, perhaps. Alethea…’

  She cut in ruthlessly, longing to stay with him but determined to get away as quickly as she could. ‘I’ll say goodnight, then.’

  She flew up the staircase without even looking at him.

  She was in her dressing gown, brushing her hair, when she saw the musical box. It was on the drum table and she stared at it unbelievingly.

  When she picked it up she wasn’t certain if it was the same one, miraculously repaired, or another one just like it. It didn’t matter; Sarre had done it for her, he must have known that she had been upset.

  She flew from the room and across the gallery and knocked on his door, the dainty thing held carefully in one hand. Sarre was standing in the middle of his room in his shirtsleeves, taking off his tie. His: ‘Yes, my dear?’ was quite unsurprised.

  ‘Sarre, my little dancing lady—I found her. You did it, didn’t you? You never got her mended?’

  ‘Yes, I did. There’s an old instrument maker who sees to my instruments and is an expert in repairing the irreparable. He spent the day on her.’

  She blinked back tears. ‘Oh, Sarre, how can I ever thank you? You don’t know…after my carelessness…that you should have bothered.’

  He was leaning against a tallboy, his hands in his pockets, staring at her. He said deliberately: ‘You can show it to the children now.’

  She said a little breathlessly: ‘Yes, of course—they’ll love it.’ She edged towards the door. ‘Well, thank you again, Sarre. I really did mind about her being broken.’

  He left the tallboy and came towards her. ‘Yes, I know that.’ He took the musical box from her and set it down. ‘I find it quite encouraging.’ He swept her close and kissed her hard, put the toy back into her hand, and opened the door. ‘Sleep well,’ he said.

  Alethea got ready for bed, wondering what he had meant. Why should he find it encouraging that she had minded? And he had kissed her…he’d kissed her before, of course, but this time it hadn’t been a cool peck on one cheek. Perhaps he had felt sorry for her. She wound the musical box and sat listening to its tinkling tune; she would have to play it for the children in the morning and not betray her feelings for one second, but there was no one to watch her now, no blue van Diederijk eyes staring at her. She played the tune again, snivelling like a small girl.

  But there was no sign of that at breakfast the next morning. She set her treasure on the table and without looking too closely at the children’s surprised faces, wound it up, talking about it all the time, and when it had finished its tune, she enquired after Neptune and Nero, reminded the children that it was their swimming lesson that morning, observed that it looked like rain and somehow contrived not to offer a cheek for Sarre’s duty kiss. After the way he had kissed her last night, she wouldn’t be able to bear it.

  She went about her chores presently, having her daily chat with Mrs McCrea, peering into the linen cupboards, paying a visit to Nanny, who received her with tight-lipped courtesy and stood by while she played with the kitten and collected Nero for his walk with Rough, and that done, she went along to the small room at the back of the house where she had her daily Dutch lessons now. It was a dear little room; rather cluttered, because everyone used it and it had a lovely view of the garden. Alethea spent an hour struggling with the simple sentences which would help her most, at least to begin with, and then thankfully bade her teacher goodbye and wandered into the drawing room. It was then that she realised that she hadn’t seen Al all the morning.

  Mrs McCrea, busy with the making of a Dundee cake, looked at her reproachfully. ‘You only had to pull the bell rope, ma’am,’ she pointed out, ‘there’s no call for you to come all this way. Is it something you want?’

  ‘Only to ask about Al—he doesn’t seem to be here…he’s not ill?’

  There was a little pause. ‘He’s got his day off, ma’am. Is there anything Nel can do in his stead?’

  Alethea picked up a handful of almonds and munched them. ‘Oh, no, thank you.’

  ‘It must have slipped his mind to tell you,’ observed Mrs McCrea comfortably.

  It was at lunchtime that the children told her that they couldn’t find Neptune. They looked at her so accusingly that she guessed at once that they supposed that she had hidden him in revenge for smashing the musical box. She said with deliberate calm: ‘No, I haven’t taken him; he was safe in the playroom when I was there this morning and I haven’t been there since. Of course I know that you smashed the musical box; I expect you had some reason for doing it, but I don’t intend to tell anyone, nor do I intend to take revenge—certainly not at the expense of a kitten.’ She went on bracingly: ‘Now, who saw him last? Was he alone for any length of time? Did anyone leave the door open?’

  ‘Nanny said he was there asleep—she had to go down to the kitchen for something and when she got back she can’t remember if he was there or not.’

  ‘Then probably he’s in a cupboard.’ Alethea glanced at the clock. ‘Look, if we hurry over lunch, we’ll have half an hour before you have to go back to school; we’ll search the house, room by room—perhaps Nanny will help us.’

  They stared at her silently and she added gently: ‘Look, I’m on your side, you know,’ and was rewarded by the speed with which they polished off their meal.

  The search disclosed nothing, at least nothing of Neptune. True, a ball which had been missing for months came to light in a great chest on the landing outside the playroom, and a pair of woollen mitts which Jacomina had been missing since the winter were found in the pillow cupboard in the hall. By the time the children had to go back to school, they had peered and poked into almost all the house; there were still the kitchens, the drawing room and their father’s study, but Alethea said that she would take a look there and then search the garden. She hoped devoutly that she would find Neptune in the house, because it was pouring with rain and the gardens were quite large with potting sheds, wheelbarrows and the like, all of which would have to be searched.

  But there was no sign of him indoors; it had taken a long time to look around the drawing room and even longer in the kitchens, even with the help of Mrs McCrea and Nel. There was nothing for it but to search the garden. But first Alethea decided to go back to the playroom and make sure he hadn’t turned up.

  For once Nanny didn’t scowl at her, but shook her head, and Alethea crossed to the window to look unhappily at the teeming rain outside. It was the faintest possible movement in the big ash tree which towered close to the house wall outside the playroom which made her throw up the window and lean out. She couldn’t see anything
, what with the rain whipping the hair round her face and the wind blowing, but she was almost sure that she heard a faint mew. It was quite possible that Neptune had gone on to the windowsill and jumped the short distance from it into the tree. She wondered if she dared to do the same thing, and decided against it. She hadn’t climbed a tree in years and it wasn’t something she enjoyed doing, but Al wasn’t there, Nel had gone home for the afternoon and Mrs McCrea was hardly the build…

  She managed to convey to Nanny where the kitten was and went downstairs. Slacks first and something to tie up her hair, and gloves in case Neptune took exception to being rescued. She went to the kitchen next to tell Mrs McCrea, but since that good soul was having a doze by the Aga, Alethea hadn’t the heart to wake her, so she scribbled a note on the kitchen pad and went out of the back door.

  For a summer day, the weather was shocking. She bent her head to the wind and the rain, gained one of the sheds, found a short ladder and carried it to the ash tree, where she found that it reached only half way up its great trunk. She would have to stretch upwards and pull herself up to a higher branch. She wasn’t very good at it; it took several attempts before she was actually astride one of the lower branches, and now she could see Neptune, clinging to a much smaller branch above her head, his fur in spikes, his eyes like saucers. She would have to climb higher.

  That took a long time too, or so it seemed and now she was up there, she wasn’t so keen on heights. She forbore from looking down and wondering how she was ever going to reach the ground again, and concentrated on getting hold of Neptune. She managed that too, more by good luck than skill, for the little creature slipped and as he hung she was able to catch hold of him.

  But now how to get down? She took one horrified peep below her and then averted her eyes. She would need both hands for a start, so where was she to put Neptune? She had on a thick sweater over her slacks, but it had no pockets. She would have to stay where she was; Mrs McCrea would wake up and someone would come and look for her; Nanny knew where she was. She looked up hopefully, but the leaves were too thick and she could see nothing, and unless Nanny had the window open, which she strongly doubted, no one would hear her shout. But she did shout all the same, just in case. Nanny might hear.

  Of course Nanny didn’t, but all the same her powerful cries were heard; she nearly fell off her branch when Sarre let out a bellow below her.

  ‘What the hell are you doing up there?’ he wanted to know, and she was so surprised to hear the rage in his voice that she didn’t answer for a few seconds.

  ‘Neptune’s up here—I’ve got him safe, but I’m not sure how to get down.’

  She heard what sounded like a rumbling laugh. ‘Just stay where you are,’ commanded Sarre. ‘I’m coming up.’

  He was obviously better at climbing than she was. He was there, close beside her, within seconds, and while she was still wondering what they would do next he had scooped Neptune up and tucked him inside his jacket. ‘Now come down,’ he told her. ‘You can’t fall, I’m right behind you and you’d have to knock me over first. Let go of that branch, you can’t take it with you. Now catch hold of that stump and let yourself slide.’

  If Alethea hadn’t been so breathless with fright she would have rounded on him; ordering her about in such a callous fashion when she was petrified! She set her teeth and did as she was told. After what seemed aeons of time Sarre said: ‘Here’s the ladder, stretch out your left foot.’

  She slid it cautiously downwards and felt the rung beneath her shoe. Which was all very well, but that foot was stretched to its utmost and the rest of her was sprawled on the tree trunk.

  ‘You can’t fall,’ said Sarre’s patient voice, ‘I’ve both feet on the ladder and my arms are stretched on either side of you.’ He sounded amused. ‘Have you got your eyes closed?’

  ‘No, but I wish I had.’ She lowered herself a few inches and felt Sarre right behind her, he felt a bit like a tree trunk himself and she suddenly didn’t mind any more, and when he said abruptly: ‘Jump now,’ she did so, landing neatly in his arms.

  He didn’t let her go at once, and she stayed squashed up against him, listening to the steady thud of his heart and Neptune’s urgent mewing. She could have stayed there for ever, rain and all, but after a few moments Sarre let her go and hurried her in through the kitchen door to be met by Mrs McCrea and Nanny. He handed the kitten to Nanny with directions to dry and feed him and then turned to look at Alethea.

  ‘All right,’ she said crossly, ‘I know I look quite awful.’

  Sarre laughed, ‘I think you look rather nice,’ and kissed her wet face. ‘Run along and get into a hot bath and then come and have tea in the study. I’ve some work to do, but I can drink my tea at the same time.’

  Normally she would have stayed in the bath for hours, now she was in and out again in minutes, deciding what to wear. Sarre had never asked her to have tea with him before while he worked. It smacked of intimacy, a cosy state of married bliss…she put on a linen dress of pale green, did her face and her hair and skipped downstairs.

  Mrs McCrea was coming out of the study as she went down the hall and she thought the housekeeper looked put out. She called: ‘I’ll be down presently, Mrs McCrea,’ as she tapped on the door and went in.

  Sarre was at his desk. He had changed his wet clothes for slacks and a cotton sweater and he had a pen in his hand and a pile of papers before him. Sitting opposite him was Anna, talking in a low urgent voice.

  Alethea stopped short, disappointment swamping her, so that she found it difficult to speak. ‘So sorry, I didn’t know you were busy.’

  She smiled brightly, looking just above their heads and backed out again, although Sarre had got to his feet and was saying something. Let them have their tea, she told herself savagely, and raced upstairs to the playroom where Neptune, quite himself again, was lying in his basket while Nanny mounted guard over him. She was still there when the children came home and she stayed where she was, on the floor beside the kitten while Nanny talked at length.

  Sarel came over to her at last. ‘Nanny says you rescued Neptune from the tree. Thank you.’ He sounded polite but unfriendly.

  She got to her feet; she wasn’t wanted here either. ‘That’s all right, I’m glad he’s OK. Will you have your teas up here? Your father’s working in his study.’

  It was Jacomina who answered her. ‘Yes, we know, we went to see him. Doctor Anna’s there too.’

  Back in her room Alethea sat down and wondered what she should do. Go downstairs and have tea by herself? Share it with the children? They wouldn’t like that. She got up slowly and fetched her bag and went to find Mrs McCrea.

  ‘I’m going out for a little while,’ she told her. ‘I want to match up some embroidery silks.’

  Mrs McCrea nodded; the shops had been shut half an hour or more, but she wasn’t going to say so. Alethea wandered off and after a little while stopped and had coffee at a café in the city and then wandered on again. She went so far that she had to take a taxi back to be in time for dinner.

  She went to say goodnight to the children first and then went down to the drawing room. Sarre was standing by the window, but he came towards her as she went in. ‘You didn’t come and share my tea,’ he observed mildly.

  ‘No. You had Anna to share it instead.’

  His face took on the bland expression which she recognised covered any feelings he didn’t want to show. ‘So I did. There was tea enough for three, though.’

  ‘Two’s company, three’s none,’ she reminded him flippantly.

  ‘In that case Anna is the third.’

  Alethea had missed her own tea and strong feelings were bubbling over inside her. She said snappily: ‘No, she’s not. I am.’ She added: ‘After all, that’s what I expected.’

  She watched his face change. The blandness was still there, but his eyes glittered with what she felt sure was rage. ‘Are we quarrelling?’ he asked her in a voice so cold she could hear the ice tinkling.


  ‘Why not?’ she asked a little shrilly. ‘At least you might notice me…’ She raced to the door. ‘I’m not hungry, I think I’ll go to bed.’

  By the time she had torn off her clothes and had another bath, she was famished as well as frightened at what she had said. She had been stupid shouting like that; now Sarre wouldn’t be just casually friendly, he’d begin not to like her. She cried herself to sleep worrying about it.

  He had gone when she got down to breakfast in the morning. Only the children were still at the table. They wished her good morning and looked at her wan face with some curiosity. They looked doubtful too, and she couldn’t think why—and really, she thought wearily, it didn’t matter; they had made up their minds not to like her and they showed no signs of changing them. She drank her coffee, saw them off to school and went into the garden. It was beautiful and peaceful there; she felt better after a while and went in search of Mrs McCrea.

  ‘Isn’t Al back?’ she asked when they had settled the meals for the day.

  ‘He’ll be here before lunch,’ declared Mrs McCrea. She volunteered no further information, so presently Alethea took the dogs for their walk while she pondered over the situation between herself and Sarre. Well, it was hardly that. Sarre wasn’t an easy man to quarrel with, he just stood there looking horribly calm; it was like hitting her head against a feather bolster.

  It was still damp from the rain in the park although it was a glorious morning; mindful of muddy paws, she took the dogs round the little steeg which led to the garages and the back garden gate and went into the house through the kitchen, drying the dogs on the way. ‘I’ll bring up the coffee presently,’ Mrs McCrea told her. ‘Nel’s busy upstairs.’

  ‘I’ll come down for it,’ offered Alethea. ‘It’s only me to have it—my teacher doesn’t come this morning.’

  ‘I’ll bring it all the same, ma’am,’ said the housekeeper in much the same sort of voice that Mrs Bustle used when she disapproved of something Alethea wanted to do, so that she took herself out of the kitchen, the dogs running ahead of her. As soon as she opened the service door they began to bark. Sarre was in the hall, sitting on one of the marble-topped wall tables; they rushed at him and he fended them off gently as he got up.