“That’s very good of you. It’s my greenhouse I’m most concerned about, and the barn.”
“And what about the house? I understand you haven’t any form of central heating there.”
“That’s true, but I have a financial problem, Mr.—”
“Hunt. Geoffrey Hunt. A good many people have financial problems, Miss Woodrow, but I think you’ll find that what I have to suggest will be well within your means. But let me take a look around.”
She showed him the barn and greenhouse, then took him into the house. As soon as he saw that there was a fireplace in the hall he was delighted.
“Ah, Ian said he thought there was a fireplace. That solves the problem.”
“How?”
He explained that he could fix an oil heater there which would heat the entire house.
“No pipes or ducts are needed. Only one small pipe—and that would be to feed in the oil from a tank outside.”
“But how can one oil heater keep the whole house warm. Why must it be in the fireplace?”
“It works by ordinary convection currents,” he told her. “And it must have a 16-foot-long flue pipe to carry away fumes. That’s where the chimney comes in useful. The heat is sent out from the unit with such force that it permeates the whole house, especially if the room doors are left open. Those rooms you don’t use—and there must be quite a few in a house of this size with only two of you living in it—can be kept closed. That will help to direct the warm currents to where you need them. Bedrooms, bathroom, staircase, hall—everywhere. Besides. I’m sure you’ll agree, if the hall is warm the whole house is.”
He showed Nancy and herself photographs of the unit. It looked a most pleasing piece of equipment.
“It’s the most economical form of heating I know,” Geoffrey Hunt told her. “It can be regulated, left on safely all night or when you go out for an evening, and it’s absolutely trouble-free.”
Both Vanessa and Nancy were won over. As the kitchen was farthest away from the hall, and also had a fireplace, he suggested a small unit in there in addition to the larger one in the hall would make for even greater comfort.
“Don’t make up your mind right away. Think it over and give me a call,” he told Vanessa. “But don’t leave it too long, otherwise we shall get too busy and there might be a long delay.”
He said credit could be arranged. It all sounded too good to be true. He advised the same kind of unit for the barn, even though this had no chimney. The pipe in that case could be taken through a hole in the wall and up outside. If Vanessa did not like the appearance, an outside chimney could be built on some time. He suggested electric heating for the greenhouse and promised to send an estimate for the whole operation.
The estimate arrived within a few days. Both Nancy and Vanessa were amazed at the low price. Nancy had insisted that she should pay half the cost, which meant the project would be well within Vanessa’s resources.
“It’s so cheap, I’m beginning to doubt whether it can be really efficient,” she said to Nancy.
“I’m sure it will be. In any case most forms of central heating only give a sort of background warmth. And that’s really all that’s necessary. The kitchen will be well taken care of. We can still have open fires or additional electric fires in the rooms we use in the evenings—and your study in very cold weather. But if you’re in doubt, why not ask Ian Hamilton’s advice?”
“Yes, perhaps I will—though he’s awfully elusive these days. Every time I call either Cecile Harland answers the phone or Ian isn’t in.”
“How many times, in actual fact?” Nancy quizzed. “And it could be just a coincidence that Miss Harland happens to have been paying them a visit.”
“It isn’t a coincidence that he takes her out to dinner,” Vanessa answered without thinking.
Nancy eyed her keenly. “And how many times has he taken her out to dinner, to your certain knowledge?” Vanessa had to admit that it was only once. “But I daresay there have been plenty of other occasions.”
“You’re only guessing,” Nancy told her. “And it’s my belief that you’re exaggerating, too.”
“Maybe.”
Several times that day Vanessa reached for the telephone to call Ian, then changed her mind. Perhaps she had exaggerated about the number of occasions Ian had taken Cecile out and was jumping to conclusions altogether about his relationship with her. But there was no doubt about his silence. It was weeks since she had either heard from him or seen him. Not since, in fact, the day he had called and found Miles standing with his arm around her shoulders. Freda’s explanation of the engagement ring had made not the slightest difference.
But on a sudden decision the following morning when she went into her study after breakfast, she dialed his number. Cecile surely couldn’t be there at this hour unless she had stayed the night, or was indeed living there.
Her heart seemed to leap into her throat as Ian himself answered the phone.
“Oh, Ian, this is Vanessa.”
There was a second of silence. Then his voice came cool and impersonal. “Yes, Vanessa? What can I do for you?” Her courage almost failed her. Apart from his mention of her name, she might have been a complete stranger to him.
“I—wanted to thank you for sending the heating engineer,” she said, sure that her trembling voice would give her away.
“That’s all right,” he answered in the same detached voice. “Did you find his estimate satisfactory?”
“That’s what I called you about. It’s so cheap I’m not sure it will be any good.”
“That’s one of the surest attitudes I know of helping to keep prices high,” he said in an exasperated tone. “What kind of heating did he suggest?”
Slightly taken aback by his remark, she gave him more details.
“It all sounds very satisfactory to my mind,” he said when she had finished. “You can take it from me. Geoff Hunt is an upright and honest business man. That’s why I sent him to you. And it so happens that Puck’s Hill is the right sort of house for that form of heating. I think you’ll find it cheap to run and very efficient. The reason it’s so cheap is that installation is so simple. It doesn’t entail the whole house being torn apart.”
“So you’d advise me to go ahead with it?”
“I certainly would. The only tricky part might be in the lighting of that kind of unit. You mustn’t let too much oil get into the bowl at first. Turn it up gradually, otherwise pressure builds up in the flue and you get a terrific noise. It’s not dangerous, just alarming. But Geoff Hunt will show you.”
“Thanks. Thanks very much, Ian.”
“That’s all right. Any time.” he answered casually. There was a pause. Vanessa hoped he would say something else, something of a more personal or friendly nature, even if only to ask how the garden business was doing, but he didn’t. There was little else she could do except say goodbye and hang up. Calling him had given her no personal satisfaction whatever. She had run away from one hopeless love affair only to become involved in another. But this time she was not going to recover quite so easily—if ever.
Day after day Vanessa opened up her store for customers, worked in the garden and tended her plants. The heating was installed, and noticeably the hours of daylight grew shorter with the approach of fall. Now and then when the people of the village came to buy some item for their gardens, they stayed to chat and marvel at the progress Vanessa had made in so short a time. Miraculously, it seemed, the giant hogweed, the Heracleum mantegazzianum, had gone. In its place, were stretches of green lawn which Joe kept rough-cut with the aid of a rotary mower. Occasionally, Freda breezed in, or Vanessa met her in town for lunch, but Ian continued to hold himself aloof. Occasionally, too, Miles called to see her. Once or twice he asked her out, but she always declined. Whenever he tried to put his arm around her, as he sometimes did, she was invariably firm with him.
One evening when there was a sharp drop in temperature, she and Nancy decided to test out th
eir heating. Very carefully, Vanessa followed the instructions the heating engineer had given her. Soon the whole house was pleasantly warm. Miles called that evening and displayed a great interest in the unit.
“Marvelous idea,” he said. “Who told you about it?”
“Ian sent a man called Hunt,” she told him.
“Ah, clever Ian,” he said sarcastically. “Do you see much of him nowadays?”
“I’ve been busy—and so has he, I imagine,” she answered.
Miles very obviously suppressed a smile. “Well, I’m pleased to know he doesn’t always get his way.”
Vanessa turned on him. “Miles, if you’re going to be unpleasant, I’d rather you leave.”
“But, darling girl. I only—”
“And don’t call me ‘darling girl’!”
He shrugged. “All right, all right.” He started to go, then turned, his face serious. “Vanessa, you’re not very happy, are you? And I guess it’s something to do with Hamilton. I hate to say this, but he’s hooked on Cecile, and I think you know that. Why don’t you get out of here, sell the place and have yourself enough money to travel or something? Either that or marry me. You could do a lot worse, you know. You might not think you love me enough at the moment, but I’m told by some of my married pals that love often comes after marriage.” Vanessa took a deep breath. What a simple solution it sounded! But she shook her head slowly.
“No, Miles, I can’t, but thanks all the same. I know how you feel about me keeping my promise to Aunt Maud, but I feel I must. And I can’t marry you feeling as I do about—someone else.”
“People are falling in and out of love all the time. It doesn’t last for ever, especially when it’s one-sided. One of these days you’ll fall out of love with him. It might happen sooner than you think. But if you don’t want to marry me, how about selling Puck’s Hill to me? You’d be better away from here.”
“Please don’t say any more, Miles. Even if I did leave Puck’s Hill I’d never sell it.”
He left then, but what he had said had unsettled her. For weeks she had tried not to think about Ian, to keep herself busy, to be so tired night after night that she was falling asleep as she mounted the stairs to bed. But now she was suddenly defenseless. Was it true? Was Ian really “hooked on” Cecile? Vanessa almost groaned aloud. What was she to do? She couldn’t go on like this indefinitely. She could not sell Puck’s Hill, she thought suddenly, but she had not made any promises about not giving it away. She could give it to Nancy. Surely Aunt Maud would not have minded that? Vanessa didn’t think that would be compromising. In fact, she need not actually give it to Nancy. She could simply let her live here, have whomsoever she wished to live with her. Nancy might even be able to find a man to manage the garden business, and so keep that on. It was beginning to pay now and would be even more profitable when her pot plants were coming into flower and ready for sale—which would be fairly soon. Many of them were already potted up. Some people liked to buy them for some weeks before Christmas, and bring them into actual flower themselves.
Yet somehow she knew she did not want to go away. Wherever she went, she would never stop loving Ian. She began to think about him properly; recalling the Sunday she had lunched at the Lodge, the evening at the Foresters’ Club before the incident of the ring. Surely he didn’t dislike her as much as she imagined? Hadn’t he said she was worth wooing and pursuing? It was true that she had been antagonistic toward him at first. This had caused her to be rude often and resent him, so she herself was a fault, if indeed he did dislike her. But Freda had said emphatically that he didn’t. He had certainly gone out of his way to help her.
She decided she would not give up without a fight. Freda herself had said there were a whole heap of things which needed clearing up between Ian and Vanessa. The first thing to do was really find out whether there was anything between Ian and Cecile. If there wasn’t, she would do all she could to make Ian like her. In any event she simply had to find out the truth.
In the morning she called the Lodge. This time it was Freda who answered.
“Freda, may I come along to see you and Ian this evening?”
“Yes, of course,” Freda answered swiftly. “Although Ian has to go out. Would you like to come and have a meal with us or—”
But perhaps it would be better to talk to Freda First, so Vanessa said she would not go for dinner but be there about eight o’clock.
“Nice to see you.” Freda greeted her. “Sorry if we appear to have been neglecting you. Is there something special, or did you just want to get out for an hour or so?”
“No, it’s a little more than that. I felt I had to come. You see. I’m thinking of going away—probably back home.”
The announcement startled Freda. “But why? Just as you’re doing so well with your garden center and everything?”
Freda led her into the sitting room where she had some coffee waiting.
“I think. Freda, you must know why,” Vanessa said quietly. “But there are one or two things I simply must find out before I make up my mind finally.”
“Anything I can tell you, Vanessa. I will,” Freda told her. “But you must understand I can’t tell you anything I know Ian wouldn’t want me to.”
“Just answer me two questions, Freda, if you can. First, does Cecile Harland really mean anything to Ian? Is he going to marry her? Or would he like to?”
“I don’t think so. Ian has been advising her father about his trees—they have quite an estate. We knew the family before we came here to live.”
“Miles says he followed her here; that he’s—in love with her.”
Freda’s eyes widened. “How could Miles Kendal possibly know, in any case? He’s a thoroughly bad lot, that man. I’m glad you’ve given him the heave-ho. Anyhow, it simply isn’t true that Ian followed her here. It was sheer coincidence. He’s only taken her out once—and that was the time you saw them. She’s been here once or twice. It’s probable that she’d like to see more of Ian, but—”
Vanessa felt she was likely to burst with a sudden feeling of joy and excitement, but she took herself firmly in hand.
“The other thing, Freda, is—what does Ian really think of me?”
Freda passed her a cup of coffee and the sugar. “Now that is a difficult question, Vanessa. I don’t think I can answer it.”
“Does he hate me?”
“Good heavens, no. What a question!”
“Dislike me, then?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then—then why is he avoiding me? Why doesn’t he drop in at Puck’s Hill like he used to?”
“Vanessa, I can’t tell you. How can I? I doubt even if Ian himself would—” She broke off, clearly ill at ease. “Look, Vanessa, I know how you feel, and what a difficult time you must be going through. And believe me, I only wish I could do something about it. But this is something you and Ian will have to work out for yourselves.”
“Work out for ourselves?’ repeated Vanessa in a puzzled voice. “Why do you say that?”
Freda sighed and put her hand to her head. “Vanessa, don’t ask me any more questions, please. I told Ian how the engagement ring happened to be in your purse; that you weren’t engaged to Miles. He believes that. Now, I’ve set your mind at rest about Cecile. More than that I can’t do. But you must understand, it’s very difficult for Ian.” Vanessa could scarcely grasp the significance of what Freda was saying and implying. She felt too utterly bewildered.
“What’s—difficult for Ian?” she asked breathlessly, her voice barely above a whisper. Then, as she received an admonishing look from Freda, “I’m sorry, you said no more questions. But. Freda, I must know—please!”
But Freda shook her head. “My dear, you’ll just have to be patient. I only fear one thing—that whatever Ian’s feelings are, he might never ask you to marry him.”
Vanessa would not have been able to describe her feelings at that moment. Fear, elation and despair screwed themselves into a tight,
painful knot inside her.
“But—but why? Why not? What makes you say such a thing?”
But a very determined look settled on Freda’s face. “Sorry. I mustn’t say any more. I’ve said more than enough already.”
“You—don’t think I’ve been silly or lacking in pride to come and talk to you like this?”
“Good heavens, no. I only hope things will work out—for both of you I certainly wouldn’t be in too much of a hurry to leave, if I were you. How long is it now since you came, by the way? Or rather, since your aunt died?”
Vanessa sighed. She felt drained and could not even think straight. How long it had been since she had left home, or since she had been the owner of Puck’s Hill seemed entirely irrelevant and unimportant.
“It must be nearly six months. I suppose.”
“I think it is. In which case you might have soon come into the other money your aunt left for you. Have you ever wondered what the conditions might be?”
Vanessa shook her head. “I’ve no idea. Aunt Maud was a little unpredictable at times.”
“Maybe she wanted to see how you’d make out—what you’d do with Puck’s Hill. The lawyer did say it was a great deal of money, didn’t he? And if the condition was anything to do with Puck’s Hill—well, there’d be no doubt that you’d qualify. You’ve done absolute wonders there.”
“Ian suggested that it might be a condition that I shouldn’t marry.”
“Did he? And what did you say to that?”
“What would any girl in her right mind say? Love means a good deal more than money.”
Freda’s look softened. “Well, I think you have plenty to think over during the next week or so, anyway. Once you can see Ian’s point of view, it might be up to you to take the initiative. And don’t ask me to explain that,” she added quickly. “Just think about it all.”
“Think about it all? My mind boggles. I only hope I come up with the right answers.”
They had talked longer than either of them realized, so that when they heard Ian’s key in the lock they were both startled.
To My Dear Niece Page 16