Dear Deceiver

by Doris E. Smith

  ‘It’s not. How could it be?’ Once more abhorrence swept past discretion. She looked, bright with anger, into the steely eyes. And those had changed again. How had she thought them old a minute ago? They glittered challengingly.

  ‘You ask me that? All right, Suzanne, I’ll tell you. Ten years ago you walked out on me and Toby and went with Paul Freeman, God knows where. I never knew, I never found out. Today you walked back—with a cock-and-bull story about wanting to help Jennie. Do you think I don’t know Freeman’s in Dublin too? Your mother’s going to die, girl, presumably, you’re one of her heirs. It’s time you reappeared. Any fool can work that out.’

  He left speaking to peer at her. ‘You don’t like the sound of it. I’m not surprised. But like it or not, Suzanne Hart, this is your life.’

  Suzanne Hart! It couldn't ... he couldn’t ... Haidee felt nothing now, not even the pain of her fingernails digging into her flesh. Her head had reduced to a spinning top. Had she gone mad or had he said it? If so, it made ‘ten years ago you walked out on me and Toby’ into an exploding bomb. The boy-and-girl love affair must have been fifteen years ago. Five years later—her thoughts sprang wildly from terror to terror—a marriage, a child and—a desertion ...

  You fool, Haidee Brown, you fool. A mother and sister weren’t enough for you, you had to acquire a husband and a son.

  The enormity of it came up against her like a blank wall. What could she say? What could she do? A shiver ran through her and was followed by another.

  ‘For Pete’s sake,’ she was commanded, ‘stop that. I’m not going to touch you.’ He looked not unkindly at her stricken face. ‘I’ll go. Then, no doubt, the cat will return.’

  So he’d spotted Brand, had he? Somehow that made it worse. Now that she knew the background it was most unlikely Suzanne would have clung to a pet when she had turned her back on her man and her son.

  ‘I think I’m the one should go,’ she said painfully. ‘I mean—away from here. Tomorrow. I shouldn’t have come. Forgive me.’

  Heaven knows she had need of it for the misery she’d resurrected and the old passions awakened and left unsatisfied. But, strangely, the eyes regarding her did not seem to condemn. ‘All right, get some rest. Tomorrow will look after itself.’

  One other thing. She asked it with further shame and the certainty that her suspicions were correct. ‘This bed—is it yours? Did you...’

  He laughed shortly but with tolerance. ‘What of it? I once endowed you with all my worldly goods. We won’t fall out over a bed. And you can share it with the feather duster. I think it’s a waste, but I won’t haunt you, I promise.’

  A man of surprises, but that was sheer understatement. Five minutes ago he had hated her and shown it. Now he had laid hold on the bedclothes and was actually tucking them round her still trembling form.

  ‘Lie down, girl,’ he said gently. ‘You’ll catch cold.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Next morning Haidee and Brand were the first to leave their bedroom and both looked agitated. Brand because he had told her repeatedly that he needed to go out, Haidee because she had heard him and was thinking of the badger traps. When she slipped the bolts on the front door and he stepped into the unknown, it was a temptation to snatch him back. She conquered it, watched his mil end go jauntily towards the undergrowth and went herself not so jauntily towards the kitchen.

  Minutes later, Toby’s excited voice penetrated the sizzle of the frying pan. ‘Is that for us? All of us? Me as well?’

  In nothing more than a pair of patterned briefs, it was a sturdy young body that he showed to the world, hard, and still with its summer tan. Nature had certainly provided her with a good thing in readymade sons.

  He seemed quite ready to breakfast in his underwear and when she chased him off to finish dressing he returned to do so by the stove.

  ‘Would I be right in thinking you don’t trust me?’ Haidee remarked.

  ‘No,’ he disclaimed. ‘I just thought we could talk.’

  ‘All right, we will.’ She had been watching the shirt-buttoning. ‘Do you not wear a vest?’

  ‘Not till Christmas. Where’s Brand?’

  ‘I wish I knew. I let him out and he went into the wood.’ Toby at least did not mention the traps. He flung the window open, wriggled half of himself outside and reported cheerfully that Brand was sitting on top of the car. ‘If we’d a hoist we could pull him up. I bet I could fix it. Shall I try?’ She was about to explain that the problem did not arise since she and Brand would be leaving Glenglass that day when the moment she had been dreading for most of the night caught up with her. A second figure, this time a fully clothed one, appeared in the open doorway, and Toby’s small bottom, cocked up like a football as its owner leaned farther out from the window, received a rousing wallop. Toby shot back and put quite a fair right hook into his father’s rib cage. It was returned at speed.

  Haidee watched, astonished. Was there no end to the surprises of this household? No end to the instances of Rory Hart’s Jekyll and Hyde make-up? It was still Dr. Jekyll as she found herself included in the range of the blue eyes. ‘Hi, Johnny!’ the forester said lightly. ‘Sleep well?’

  She thought his gaze narrowed as Toby launched excitedly into his scheme of a cable car exclusively Brand-for-the-use-of, but when she tried to speak no chance was given her. ‘All right, go and fetch him in,’ Rory Hart bade sharply, and Toby hurried off.

  It was suddenly Mr. Hyde whom Haidee had to face. ‘I didn’t know he was in here. What have you been saying to him?’

  ‘About being his mother?’ she stumbled. ‘Nothing, of course.’

  ‘All right. See it stays that way.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m leaving today.’

  ‘Now wait a minute. No need to rush.’ He stopped as Jennie came hurrying in.

  ‘Oh, Suzanne, I’m sorry. I meant to get the breakfast.’

  Had she been crying? Her eyes looked swollen, her long hair had been brushed straight back off her forehead. Altogether it was a plain, blotchy little face that met Haidee’s distressed one. For the nth time she reminded herself that this was the person she’d come to help. But was she doing so? Rebellion could have been expected, but Jennie had not rebelled. She had been anxiously docile and she was breaking her heart.

  At least, however, breakfast seemed to be appreciated and not least by Brand who enjoyed his snatches at Toby’s hand. Sometimes it contained tidbits of rasher, but even when it did not it was a new and friendly little hand and Brand was all for a bit of fun. The dallying, however, did not escape parental comment. ‘Watch your time, never mind the clutterbug!’ Toby was bade.

  Answer was swift. ‘Can I have another piece of toast? It’s not burnt like it usually is.’

  ‘As,’ Rory corrected. ‘It’s not burnt as it usually is.’

  ‘Okay. It’s not burnt as it usually is,’ Toby repeated chirpily.

  A chair grated. Jennie’s napkin went on the table. Her voice rose tremblingly: ‘That’s the third time you’ve said the toast was burnt. It was only once, and I didn’t see you leaving any of it. You never do. Greedy little beast!’ A catch seemed to rise in her throat and she dashed from the room.

  ‘Now look what you’ve done!’ Rory rounded on Toby. ‘What he’s done! I like that.’ Haidee could not contain herself. ‘You were just as tactless. Couldn’t you spot she’d been crying? Pour your own tea if you want more,’ she added heatedly. ‘I’m going after her.’

  ‘You’re doing nothing of the kind.’ Rory was also on his feet. ‘Go and wash your face,’ he commanded the munching Toby, who rose reluctantly. ‘You say you’ve only come here to help Jennie.’ The stony look turned back once more to Haidee. ‘And I believe that after last night.’ His meaning was not in doubt and it set her cheeks aflame. ‘But you were always a bungler. Suzanne, always a bad receiver, always a fool rushing in. You have no idea how Jennie ticks and until you have you can’t hope to help her. Be humble enough to work from that angle even
if you don’t like the answer. Have you still got a driving licence?’ Startled, she murmured assent and was flung the car keys. ‘Run Toby to school, then. And don’t let him hang round that cat.’

  Easier said than done. Toby, fastening unfortunately on the last uncomplimentary epithet, was crooning an affectionate good-bye to ‘good old Buggy’ which Brand was accepting with his aristocratic eyes closed. Haidee shrugged on her camel-hair jacket and hoped the new golden brown car handled easily. It did, and in any case her passenger, a dedicated instructor, was taking no chances with their lives. Thank heaven, he was also a dedicated navigator.

  ‘Switch on,’ he said blithely, scrambling in. ‘Okay. Now left. Now right. Put out your indicator in case someone’s coming.’ One piece of advice she marked with favour. ‘You have to be careful round here because of the hedgehogs. They’re so slow.’

  ‘Do you like living here?’ Haidee asked.

  ‘Oh yes. I wouldn’t live anywhere else in the world. I know what other places are like.’

  ‘Do you? What other places?’ she questioned amusedly.

  ‘Well, when my mother died, ages ago, I don’t remember her, I was a baby, he couldn’t look after me so I had to go and live with the Crabtrees. There were a lot of us there and they were all right, I think, but I was always afraid...’ He stopped.

  ‘Yes?’ Haidee prompted gently.

  ‘I don’t know exactly. ’Spose that he mightn’t mean it about taking me back. He used to have me sometimes to the flat for a weekend, but it wasn’t much fun. I always got sick before he came and then—I don’t know—I don’t think he liked me much. I used to want it to be Sunday afternoon, that’s when he took me back to the Crabtrees, but when he did and it was over...’ he paused again.

  ‘You felt sorry?’

  ‘I used to bawl my head off. Would you believe it? Of course I was terribly small.’ He looked at Haidee quite fiercely. ‘Only about four or five. So anyway, in the end, he took me for good. He said okay, it was sink or swim, but I’d have to toe the line. He had a sort of research job then in Surrey. That’s in England. It was a bit grotty, but when we came here, I think it was three years ago, it was smashing.’

  Hardly a tender saga. And how crude the ultimatum: ‘Sink or swim, but you’ll have to toe the line.’ It posed the inevitable question: Whose fault had the break-up been? Had Suzanne been goaded beyond endurance?

  The village of Glenglass was small with a pub called The Winding Horn and a row of coloured cottages.

  ‘Do you see that shop?’ Toby pointed it out. ‘That used to be my grandfather’s. They lived over it. They had a bicycle with a basket on the front and their name under the crossbar. I don’t think you can get them now.’

  The school was up a lane. ‘He won’t let us take the car up,’ was the next confidence. Toby never used proper names, but his pronouns needed no identification. ‘It’s bad for the springs.’

  On the pavement he halted as though struck by a thought.

  ‘What about dinner tonight?’

  ‘Are you asking me? That’s kind,’ Haidee replied solemnly.

  She repented when she saw a slight flicker of puzzlement, but Toby was not his father’s son for nothing.

  ‘Yes, I am asking you!’ he shouted back. ‘To cook it! She’s rotten.’

  The road back from the village gave a clear view. Glenglass had been formed in the Glacial period by a torrent of melting ice which had gouged out a channel in the hills. Above it now, at its southern mouth, the broad arrowhead of the forest pushed up to quartzite cap and brilliant blue sky. Whether, in years to come, even more of the scree and scrubland would be reclaimed and have its bristle of little conifers was something to be battled out with nature and the conservationists. Rory had said last night that Wicklow’s afforestation rate was sixth in the top ten counties.

  Haidee had always had a good bump of direction and she thanked her stars for it. The village was now secure in her mind and the surrounding terrain was falling in as well. Glenglass seemed to lie somewhere between the back end of Powerscourt and the village of Roundwood.

  This time the gateless entrance did not take her by surprise and once in State Forest precincts she drove slowly marking the stands of birch brooms which would be used as beaters in a fire. The house towered abruptly among the trees and on the forecourt Rory’s stolid form, its dark trousers tucked into rolled-down boots, was apparently waiting for someone. Thoughts that it might have been herself were dispelled when another form appeared at the top of the steps. Green trousers this time and a black leather jacket trimmed with light-coloured fur. So Jennie had emerged again. Haidee braked, shut off the engine and let down the window. She could hardly believe her eyes when she saw the black jacket lean poetically across the iron handrail and still less could she believe them when Rory went over, doffed his hat, and stood gazing upwards.

  Ears, too, could only be playing her false, for what was he saying?

  ‘Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear

  That tops with silver all these fruit-tree tops.’

  Jennie had dropped her hand and he was actually fondling it. And now, gushing like a gay little stream, her voice came, taking its cue:

  ‘O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,

  That monthly changes in her circled orb,

  Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.’

  Here male eloquence seemed to have expired. Rory laughed and tugged the hand so that its owner must needs go the rest of the way. They were both laughing as they approached the car; Jennie’s eyes were bright almonds and Rory still had her hand. He dropped it to lay possessive hold on the handle of the car door.

  ‘I hope you didn’t go up the lane. I forgot to warn you about the surface.’

  Enough to incense a saint, and Haidee, slipping her trousered leg on to the tarmac, was not that. Resentment made her daring.

  ‘You seem to think I’m a stranger.’

  ‘The school—’ he began in his lordly way.

  It pushed her into further assertion. ‘I know the school.’ For a moment there seemed to be something peculiar about the silence. She could even have fancied that the dark eyes went in supplication to the sky. It passed. ‘Of course,’ Rory said smoothly. ‘Mea culpa. You’ll have read it in the papers. We raised four thousand for that school. It was only opened this year.’

  The morning’s programme had been planned. ‘We thought you might fancy a walk, with Jennie that is. I’m on my way to work.’

  ‘Work’, it seemed, had to do with supervising the construction of a new fire line on the far side of the wood, and Jennie’s suggestion that they should walk along with him to that point was put to Haidee with her usual exemplary manners. ‘Unless you have a preference, that is. When you lived here which was your favourite walk?’

  ‘Yes, Johnny.’ It was surely no imagination that Rory’s eyes had a sudden gloating look. ‘Which was it? I forget.’

  ‘It didn’t exist,’ Haidee said shortly. ‘I loved all Glenglass. Before you blotted it out with telegraph poles!’

  It was a strange thing, but she could have sworn that a certain approbation flashed through the eyes regarding her. ‘You remember your lines very well,’ the forester said. ‘But you’re not word-perfect. The softwoods are our friends. Your stepfather knew that. If he’d had his way in the beginning things could have been very different for your family.’ Conifers, he went on to explain, were a valuable cash crop. They thrived on poor land, they made far less demand on the soil than the favoured oak and beech, and they grew so quickly that in twelve or fifteen years they were saleable either as wood pulp or for posts and rails. The Forest Service, he continued, as Suzanne did not ‘need to be told’, had acquired its first two hundred and fifty acres of Glenglass fifteen years ago. The remainder had come gradually. In those years had been written a tale of progress, planning research, experimenting—and preservation. ‘This, for instance. Virtually untouched. Even you can’t deny that.’ They were wal
king on a floor of wood rush, past oaks which he stated were a hundred and fifty years old. Growing with them were holly, rowan and hazel.

  If he only knew, Haidee thought sheepishly, how much she did need to be told and how enthralling she found the telling. The herring gull and the Norway geese on the North Bull had not been her refuge by chance. They’d answered an innate longing, a longing for the things Suzanne had been born to and had thrown away. Meantime, for a brief spell, a freakish fate had made them hers to enjoy. She would do so greedily. If she had to leave Glenglass that afternoon she would take with her every moment of this walk.

  There was lichen looking like a green stain on the rock outcrop. There was the red of the birch bark in shade. There was Jennie diving to pick something from the carpet of needle fall, and casting her head back to gaze. Haidee saw thin trunks, their crowns swaying in the breeze.

  ‘We’ve still got the red squirrels,’ Rory filled in. ‘As I suppose you’ve noticed.’

  Jennie showed the cone in her hand. Sharp teeth had scaled it smooth.

  ‘Witness what can happen to my trees when they get to pole stage,’ Rory observed ominously. ‘And it’s no use looking like that,’ he added. ‘We conserve what we can, but we’re not in it for the good of our health.’

  It was dangerous ground. ‘Nor for the good of the squirrels’ health!’ Haidee thrust passionately.

  ‘The squirrels do all right,’ he countered. ‘The Glenglass ones do anyway. And so far they’ve done no serious damage, so we’ll cross that bridge when it comes. Okay?’

  ‘But you will cross it?’

  ‘Assuredly.’

  ‘It’s horrible.’ Scots pine thickly grown helped to contribute to the dank shade of the path. The rest of the coldness came from inside her.

  Rory, by contrast, was beginning to lose his cool. ‘Horrible my foot! It’s life, not Disneyland as you appear to think.’