To My Dear Niece

by Hilda Nickson

  Miles put his arm across Vanessa’s shoulders. “Your brother looks furious at the drop of a hat. It’s my guess that Vanessa is the one who should be looking furious. Like the sweet girl she is, she’s probably apportioning all the blame for any—misunderstanding to herself. Come along, Vanessa, I’ll take you home.”

  Vanessa looked apologetically at Freda. “Perhaps we can get together and talk one day. I really must get home. Goodnight, Freda.”

  She was glad that Miles did not talk much on the way to Barn Hill. When they arrived at the house, he held out his hand.

  “Give me your key, Vanessa. I’ll unlock the door for you.”

  Without protest she gave it to him. When he had unlocked the door, he followed her inside. She invited him into the library. There were things she must say to him.

  “Would you like some coffee?” she asked, trying to collect her thoughts together.

  He shook his head. “I’ve already had two cups. Come. Sit down and tell me what’s upset you. One of these days I’ll kill Hamilton.”

  He took her hand and made her sit down, dropping onto the sofa beside her. She withdrew her hand from his and took out the ring in its case.

  “You’d better have this, Miles. I’m sorry—it has to be no, after all.”

  He looked from the box to her in astonishment.

  “But—but, darling girl, I don’t understand. Less than a couple of hours ago you said you were reasonably sure, that you were going to tell me by the end of the week. What’s happened to change things? I can’t think that you’ve let Ian Hamilton poison your mind against me. Though it would be just like him to try.”

  “No, no, it’s nothing like that. Please, Miles. I—I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you. I know it now for certain.”

  “But—” he took both her hands in his. “But how can you? It’s not possible! I’m the same person that I was about an hour and a half ago, you’re the same, so—”

  She was not the same. She was different. Something had happened to her. She was a woman in love. “Miles, you’ll have to take my word for it. Please don’t prolong the argument. In fact. I don’t want an argument at all. I told you I wasn’t sure. Now I am. I’m not in love with you. Miles, that’s all.”

  He drew an angry breath “What’s Hamilton been saying to you? It’s got something to do with him, I know.”

  Vanessa sighed and rose. “Please. Miles, there’s no point in discussing it I’m sorry, truly I am, but liking isn’t love. These things often come to one suddenly.” She smiled and held out her hand to him. “Goodnight, Miles, and thanks for seeing me home. Thanks for all you’ve done to help, too.”

  He eyed her keenly and stood up, ignoring her hand. “All right. Vanessa. But I still think there’s more in this than meets the eye. Believe me. Hamilton knows more about your affairs than you think. I wouldn’t trust him an inch, if I were you. If you ever did, you’d live to rue it.”

  He went out, obviously hurt and angry. She could not blame him, but what would have been the use of keeping him in doubt?

  Ian. Oh, Ian!

  She made her way slowly upstairs, loving him with every breath and with every step; yet wanting to weep at the memory of that cold look in his eyes when he handed Miles’s ring back to her. She must see him, make him understand.

  Scarcely aware of what she was doing, she made her preparations for bed, even though it was still quite early. Her mind went over and over again everything they had talked about, everything he had said, the way he had looked, the tone of his voice—everything about him. She had loved him for a very long time, of course. That day at his house when she had been sitting on the edge of the pool; the night of the Foresters’ dance when he had been dancing with Cecile Harland. She had been in love with him then. Why hadn’t she realized it before?

  But now the thought of Ian and Cecile Harland filled her mind. Ian had not told her what she most wanted to hear—that though he had once been in love with Cecile, he was no longer.

  Trying to sleep, Vanessa tossed around to the accompaniment of her thoughts. Questions and speculations bounced from one side of her brain to the other, but the most important queries were hurled back unanswered.

  “You were home early last night,” Nancy commented the next morning, giving her a speculative look.

  Vanessa nodded. “I—wasn’t enjoying the meeting very much, so I had Miles drive me home. I went straight up to bed.”

  “Was Ian at the meeting?” Nancy asked.

  Vanessa sighed. “Yes, he was.”

  Nancy made no further comment about Ian. She observed, “Miles Kendal didn’t stay long, anyway, did he? I heard him drive away again quite soon after you came in.”

  “That’s right—and I don’t suppose I shall be seeing so much of him in the future. I gave him back his ring last night.”

  “I didn’t know you’d ever accepted one from him,” Nancy said in a surprised voice.

  Vanessa explained, “It was silly, really. He dropped it into my purse, and I was to wear it when I decided to be engaged to him.”

  “What made you make up your mind?” Nancy asked curiously. “Something happen at the meeting?”

  “You could say that, I suppose,” Vanessa answered briefly.

  “Well, I can’t say I’m sorry you’ve sent that young man packing,” Nancy said frankly. “I’m sure you’re well rid of him.”

  But Vanessa did not think she was rid of him, as Nancy put it. A few days later he called to see her.

  “I came to apologize for my attitude when you returned my ring,” he said. “I’m afraid I never was a very good loser.”

  “I understand. Miles. I think I would have felt the same in your place. It’s hard to accept defeat sometimes—if defeat is the right word.”

  “It’s the right word sure enough. But I came to ask if we could still be friends.”

  “Why, yes, of course.” she said swiftly, anxious to make amends for having hurt him.

  He smiled and put his arm across her shoulders. “That’s the girl! Well, come and see me off. I can’t stay long this time. I’m meeting someone at the Swan.”

  His arm still across her shoulder, they went outside and stood for a moment beside his car. Vanessa wished he would take his arm away, but it would seem unnecessarily unfriendly to shake it off. He would soon be gone. But as they stood beside his car, another drove up. Vanessa needed only one glance to see that it was Ian. She shrugged her shoulders to remove Miles’s arm, but he gripped them more tightly. Ian got out of the car, looked from one to the other quickly, then stepped back in again and drove off without a word.

  Miles threw back his head and laughed out loud. Vanessa rounded on him furiously.

  “I don’t think it’s the least little bit funny,” she stormed. “You deliberately kept your arm around my shoulder just to make him think the worst!”

  “The worst? What on earth is that supposed to be? You care too much what Hamilton thinks.” He opened the door of his car. “I understand that you and he were in quite a huddle in that corner the other night. I hope he didn’t give you any wrong impressions. He likes to think he’s keeping women on tenterhooks. I know quite a few who’d like to know where they stand with him. But they’re fools. He’s got his eye on the main chance—and that means Cecile.”

  He smiled and with an imperturbable wave, drove off down the drive.

  Her eyes misty with tears, Vanessa felt for a moment as if she hated him. But all he had said about Ian could be the truth. He had talked to her last night as if he were genuinely interested in her as a woman, yet he had carefully evaded telling her what his relationship with Cecile was now. There was no real reason why he should have, of course, except that they had been talking on a personal level.

  Between attending to the wants of customers and giving attention to her seedling plants, Vanessa toyed with the idea of calling Ian to find out why he had come. He must have wanted to see her about something. She hoped he would phone her, but he didn�
�t. At last, one evening a few days later, she picked up the telephone and dialled his number. Again, it was Cecile who answered. Vanessa was beginning to wonder whether she was living there.

  “May I speak to Ian?” she asked determinedly. “This is Vanessa Woodrow here.”

  “Ian?” came the cool voice. “Hang on a moment.” Vanessa hung on, her heart beating swiftly, but it was Freda who answered after a minute or two. She did not say whether Ian was at home or not. Vanessa had to conclude, with despair in her heart, that he simply did not want to speak to her.

  “Oh, Vanessa,” said Freda, “I’m coming along to see you in the morning. Will that be all right?”

  “Yes, perfectly. Come and have coffee with me. I’d like to see you. But I wanted to speak to Ian. Is he—”

  “I’m sorry, Vanessa,” came the answer. “This is a bad line. I’ll see you in the morning around 11. ‘Bye for now.” Vanessa had no option but to hang up. She replaced the receiver slowly, convinced that Ian had been there but did not want to speak to her. He thought her a person who lied. He felt a contempt for her because of her association with Miles. But she hadn’t lied, and what was wrong with Miles anyway? She was rapidly coming to the conclusion afresh that Ian did not really like her and never had.

  “Sorry I haven’t been around before,” Freda said brightly when she arrived the following morning, “but I don’t seem to have had time to breathe. How are things with you? Business flourishing?”

  Vanessa said it was and poured out coffee in her study-cum-library. Freda glanced around at the walls, now painted in creamy white, the dusty books sold to an antiquarian book dealer

  “This is marvelous. I haven’t been in here since you’ve fixed it up,” she exclaimed, determined it seemed to Vanessa, to keep on talking trivialities.

  “Ian called a day or so ago,” she said at last. “Did he want to see me about something?”

  “Er—yes. That’s why I’ve come really. He asked me to. It was to tell you that his offer of a bulldozer to level the land is still good. You’re to say what day you’d like the man to come. He also asked me to give you this.” She took a business card out of her bag and handed it to Vanessa. “It’s a firm of heating engineers—a friend of ours. Give him a call. He’ll come and discuss your greenhouse heating problems. The house too, if you want it. And if I were you, I would let him do the house. You can always regulate the amount you use, can’t you?”

  Vanessa swallowed hard and nodded, but at the moment the heating of either house or greenhouse, and the leveling of the land were of little interest to her. It was Ian she wanted to know about, to talk about.

  “Did—Ian say anything after he’d called to see me that day?”

  From Freda’s expression it was apparent that he had, but she hesitated before answering.

  “Well, he did say that Miles Kendal was with you.”

  “Is that all?”

  “What else should there be?” asked Freda, giving her a steady look.

  Vanessa pressed her hands to her face. “I don’t know—”

  Freda’s hand touched her arm. “Vanessa, what’s the matter? What happened between you and Ian the other evening at the club? He won’t tell me anything, but he’s certainly upset about something.”

  “He—thinks me a liar, I suppose. We—we were getting along quite well. At least, I thought we were until—”

  “I thought you were too. What were you talking about?”

  “Oh, all kinds of things. He—asked me if I was engaged to Miles, but I told him I hadn’t made up my mind. He even asked me if I was in love with Miles, and I told him I wasn’t sure about that either. We talked some more, then I—spilt some coffee onto my dress. I reached in my purse for my handkerchief to mop it up. When I pulled it out, the ring box Miles had given me fell out. The—the top couldn’t have been on properly. The ring fell out and—Ian picked it up. He didn’t wait for me to explain. He just gave it back to me and walked away.”

  Freda gave a puzzled frown. “I don’t quite understand, either. If you’re not engaged to Miles, why did you have his ring in your purse?”

  “He brought it with him when he called for me. I hadn’t said I would marry him. He—he just brought it. But I still didn’t want to accept it. I told him I’d give him a definite answer by the end of the week, so he said—‘Well, put it in your purse. When you’ve made up your mind to say yes, just put it on’. ”

  “I see. So I suppose Ian jumped to the conclusion you were engaged, seeing you were carrying Miles’s ring around. Then he called the other day, and here Miles was again. You can hardly blame him, Vanessa, can you?”

  “I suppose not. But why should he think I would lie? Does he think I’m that sort of person?”

  Freda sighed. “We all get a bit mixed up at times, Vanessa, and jump to wrong conclusions. And with regard to Miles Kendal, you’ve had me foxed at times, too. You didn’t seem to be his type at all, and yet you’ve become so friendly with him. He always seems to be around, he’s stayed the night here, and you’ve accepted his help in preference to ours. Even now we don’t know whether you’re going to marry him or not.”

  “I’m not,” Vanessa told her quietly.

  Freda’s delight at this news showed in her face. “Oh, Vanessa, I’m so glad. So you’ve returned his ring?” Vanessa nodded. “He was a bit annoyed at first. He came the other day to apologize and ask if we could remain friends. I had to say yes, of course. We had no quarrel, and he really has been a good friend. I’m only sorry that Ian happened to call just when he did. I was annoyed with Miles, actually. He stood with his arm around my shoulders and wouldn’t move it when Ian drove up.”

  “Ah, so that was it.”

  “That was what, exactly?” queried Vanessa.

  “Well, it explains why Ian didn’t stay and why he thought you and Miles—”

  “I suppose so,” Vanessa said miserably. “But I called Ian yesterday to try to explain. He wouldn’t even speak to me. He was at home, wasn’t he, Freda? Because Cecile was there.”

  Freda sighed worriedly. “This is all very difficult, Vanessa. I hardly know what to say to you. Would you like me to explain things to Ian?”

  Vanessa nodded, tears not far away. Explaining to Ian, making him believe that she had not lied to him about Miles would not alter the fact that he did not care for her, nor lessen her love for him. Still less would it make Cecile cease to exist.

  Freda eyed her closely. “Why does it matter so much what Ian thinks, Vanessa? What made you decide you didn’t want to marry Miles?’’

  Vanessa’s lips trembled. “I can’t tell you that. Freda.”

  “I think I can guess,” Freda said softly.

  With an effort Vanessa kept back her tears. “If only he didn’t dislike me so!”

  “But, Vanessa, he doesn’t dislike you.” She sighed again and stood up. “Look, I must leave. There are a whole heap of things which need clearing up between you and Ian, but I can’t very well speak for him. I’ll tell him you really aren’t engaged to Miles, anyway. I would think he’ll be very pleased about that—for your sake. And what shall I tell him about the bulldozer?” she added swiftly.

  The bulldozer. As if it mattered! The words which had held her attention were for your sake. If only it had been for his sake, too.

  “The bulldozer can come any time at all,” she answered heavily. “And thank Ian for me, of course.”

  “I will.” Freda looked as though she were about to say something else, but changed her mind and took her leave.

  Vanessa had longed to ask her about Cecile, but what would have been the use? she asked herself. She was sure the answer would have only added to the ache already in her heart.

  She wondered whether Ian would phone or call to see her after Freda had explained to him about the ring. During the following days her ear was continually tuned to the telephone, her heart leaping every time it rang. But there was nothing from him. The bulldozer arrived and did a wonderful job of le
veling the ground where the weed had been dug out. Ian had received her message about that obviously, then surely Freda had given him the other? Vanessa shrank from dialing their number. She did not want to risk Cecile answering it again. Once, in casting a look across the boundary fence she caught a glimpse of both Cecile and Ian through the trees and turned quickly away. On another occasion she saw Ian alone. She hesitated, then waved and would have walked toward the boundary to speak to him, but he turned away. She had no way of knowing whether he had seen her or not. But she had an awful feeling that he had and was deliberately avoiding her. Freda appeared to be avoiding her too. A week passed when Vanessa saw nothing of her. When she did, it was by accident in the village.

  “I thought I might have seen you before, Freda,” Vanessa said. ‘‘Not knowing how I stand with Ian, I didn’t feel I could phone you or call at the house. You—did tell Ian about everything?”

  “Yes. Vanessa. I did.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He—said he was glad to hear it—that you weren’t engaged to Miles.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Well, yes. At least, that’s all I can tell you, Vanessa. I don’t think he had really believed you capable of telling lies. He said he hadn’t known what to think.” Then she asked, in a way which Vanessa was sure was aimed deliberately at changing the subject, “Have you been in touch with the heating engineer yet?”

  Vanessa said she hadn’t. She had had too many other things on her mind.

  “Do you intend to?”

  “Oh yes, I must—even if it’s only for the sake of my plants.”

  Freda seemed once more in a hurry. “I’ll give you a call, Vanessa. You must come and have a meal with us again.”

  But Vanessa felt as though she were being let down lightly, that neither Freda nor Ian were anxious to see her again.

  On the same day that her sod was delivered the heating engineer called. Asked to by Ian, he said. “Only to advise you. You won’t be under any obligation.”