The Courtyard

by Marcia Willett

  ‘But these are bedrooms, Gussie,’ said Nell anxiously. ‘Won’t Henry want to use them? Not that I mind if he uses our furniture but even so …’

  ‘Henry wants to feel that you can come and stay with all your things round you,’ said Gussie. ‘Now please don’t worry,’ she added quickly, seeing a variety of emotions struggling on Nell’s face. ‘Good heavens! There are so many empty rooms that it won’t make any difference at all. We thought this bedroom for you and John, you see, because it’s got a dressing room off it which could be used as a little sitting room. And there’s another room next door for Jack.’

  ‘Wait a minute, Gussie.’ Nell shook her head. ‘What do you mean? You make it sound as if we’re about to move in with you.’

  ‘No, no, dear. Of course not. I explained to you when we spoke on the telephone. Henry hopes very much that you’ll spend your holidays here now that you can’t go to the cottage. And he wants you to be comfortable and feel at home. He thought having your own things would help.’ She peered at Nell, praying that she wouldn’t be too proud to accept the offer. ‘We’d be so happy, Nell,’ she pleaded, ‘if you thought you could come. I’ve missed you so much and Henry was so taken with Jack. It’s a wonderful place for a child.’

  ‘Oh, Gussie.’ Nell looked quite desperate. ‘It’s amazingly kind of him, of all of you, but honestly, I can’t just use Nethercombe as a hotel. It’s terribly good of Henry to store my furniture. I would have hated to sell it. But I wasn’t angling for a private suite …’ She swallowed and walked over to the window.

  Gussie watched her. She guessed very accurately at the loss of pride as well as the pain that Nell must be suffering and made no attempt to insult her by attempting to belittle it or gloss over it.

  ‘It was selfish of us,’ she said quietly to Nell’s back. ‘I realise that. We were so delighted at the thought of seeing more of you that we didn’t really think about how you might see it. I hope you’ll forgive us. You must do whatever is right for you.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Nell turned back. She looked exhausted. ‘I’m being quite unreasonable and very ungrateful. It’s been rather dreadful, packing everything up and leaving the cottage.’ Gussie nodded understandingly, privately shocked that John had allowed her to make this particular trip alone, but she said nothing and Nell attempted a smile. ‘I should love to think that we could come to Nethercombe and I know Jack would be quite beside himself. It’s so generous of you all.’

  ‘No more generous,’ said Gussie, ‘than you were to me in Bristol. Oh yes,’ she said firmly, as Nell made as though to speak, ‘I know that I couldn’t have managed without you. So please, my dear, shall we just look upon it as a kind of quid pro quo? Could you do that? Just until things improve again for you? It would give me so much happiness.’

  ‘Put like that, how can I possibly refuse? Thank you. It will be wonderful to think that we can come and see you all.’

  ‘Then that’s settled.’ Gussie’s relief was palpable. ‘Now you’re going to have something to eat and when the van arrives I’ll see to it. There’s to be a little party tomorrow beside the pool so Gillian’s busy getting things ready and Henry’s off somewhere but you’ll see them both later.’

  Nell, following Gussie downstairs, was too tired to make any more objections. The thought of a party was too horrific for words but she felt that it would be churlish to make any more protests. Perhaps tomorrow she would feel more up to it.

  In fact, she almost enjoyed it. Although it was now September the weather was very warm and several guests swam while Bill Beresford instructed Henry in the art of barbecuing. Nell sat in the dim interior of the summerhouse, her mind pleasantly dulled by fatigue and wine, and made no attempt to be anything but an onlooker. She met people whose names she almost immediately forgot and wished she could spend the rest of her life sitting in this comfortable chair, watching the twilight gather in the rosy sky, whilst the murmuring of voices and clinking of glasses surged and ebbed around her. Bats darted among the shadowy branches of the trees and presently a slender silver arc of moon appeared above the roofs of the Courtyard cottages. The fairy lights twinkled like multicoloured stars, casting their reflection in the water below, and people moved to and fro like actors in a play.

  The strain of the last two years, culminating in the shock of having to sell the cottage and finding herself pregnant, had left Nell feeling quite light-headed in this magic setting. Reality had drawn off from her and she wondered if she might wake tomorrow and find that none of these dreadful things had happened. She was aware that someone had come into the summerhouse and she saw now that it was the young man to whom Gillian had been speaking earlier beside the pool. He was tall and dark with an unsmiling countenance and cool grey eyes. Nell was almost too relaxed to acknowledge his presence but she roused herself enough to smile and he took the chair that stood next to hers.

  ‘I don’t think we’ve been introduced,’ he said and his voice was warmer and more flexible than she had expected. ‘I’m Guy Webster. I live down in the Courtyard.’

  ‘I’m Nell Woodward.’ Even as she spoke, she felt again the sense of unreality and gave a little chuckle. Guy looked more closely at her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, still chuckling a little, ‘I feel as if I’ve stumbled on an enchanted scene. You know. Like Bottom and Titania.’

  ‘Well, I’ve certainly been called an ass often enough …’ began Guy cautiously and Nell burst out laughing.

  ‘No, no,’ she protested. ‘It’s nothing personal. Don’t take any notice of me.’ She made an attempt to be social. ‘Are you happy in the Courtyard?’

  ‘Oh, I think so.’ She was aware of his eyes studying her in the shadows. ‘Have you bought one of the cottages, by any chance?’

  ‘Good heavens, no.’ Nell shook her head. ‘In fact, I’ve just been selling my cottage. I moved out yesterday.’

  She fell silent, unwilling to be drawn back into the present. Guy simply couldn’t stop looking at her. He was mesmerised by her unearthly beauty and they sat without movement or speech for some time. Presently Nell stirred and, as if a spell had been broken, Guy leaned towards her.

  ‘Another drink?’

  ‘I’m not sure that I should have any more,’ said Nell reflectively. ‘It seems to be having a very strange effect on me. I feel most peculiar.’

  ‘Maybe you’re tired,’ suggested Guy. ‘If you moved house yesterday you must be feeling the effect today. Do you live round here?’

  ‘I live in Bristol,’ answered Nell reluctantly. The magic was beginning to fade and the familiar sensations of weariness and fear were hovering close at hand. ‘Perhaps I will have another drink after all.’

  Guy stood up and took her glass. He hesitated for a moment but, before he could speak, Gillian appeared in the doorway. She was dressed in a long black sinuous garment that clung to her slender figure and accentuated her fair hair.

  ‘It looks as if we’re going to be able to eat at last,’ she said, her glance flitting between the two of them. ‘Burnt offerings all round! Coming, Guy?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Right.’ Guy paused and looked at Nell. ‘Are you … ?’

  ‘I’ll be there in a minute. You carry on.’ Nell nodded, encouraging him to go, feeling an almost desperate longing to be alone again, to recapture that glorious feeling of light-headed peace. ‘Honestly. I’m not terribly hungry. And don’t bother with that drink. Like you said, I’m very tired.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ said Gillian easily. ‘Plenty of time.’

  Guy followed her with a backward glance at Nell who tried to relax back into her former state of mind. It eluded her. All she could think of now was the cottage: empty, abandoned, no longer her refuge; of John: sullen, silent, wary and unapproachable; of Jack: in Tuscany somewhere with friends, not knowing that he was to have a sibling. Finally she thought of herself, the child she was carrying and how she would deal with all these separate problems.

  There was a burst of laughter and a black, feathery cl
oud, silver edged, hid the moon from sight. Nell stood up and slipped away, passing through the little wrought-iron gate on to the path which led up to the house. In the hall, she paused for a moment. Mrs Ridley, who was putting out coffee cups in the drawing room, saw her and came out to her.

  ‘I’m going up to bed, Mrs Ridley. I feel very tired all of a sudden. Goodnight.’

  ‘Yew’ll want a bottle.’ It was a statement. ‘An’ a nice ’ot drink, p’raps.’

  ‘Oh, no, no. It’s really kind but I’m perfectly OK.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Mrs Ridley gave a disbelieving snort. ‘’Tisn’t no trouble to do a bottle. An’ there’s a pan o’ milk on the stove, ready for the coffee. They’ll all be in, wantin’ somethin’ to warm ’em up. Seems daft to me, sittin’ out there in the dark, bein’ bit to death by midges. Go on up. I’ll be there direckly.’

  Nell had no energy to protest. She climbed the stairs, visited the bathroom and went into her bedroom. How odd it looked, this high, large room with her cottagey furniture in it! Nevertheless she was glad to see her old friends placed around the room and her heart lifted a fraction. She was standing at the window, gazing out at the fields and woods, shadowy and mysterious, when Mrs Ridley arrived, a hot-water bottle under one stout arm and a mug of hot milk in her hand.

  ‘There d’be nuthin’ like a bit o’ warmth when yew’m breedin’,’ she said comfortably, putting the bottle into the bed. She brought the mug to where Nell stood. ‘Drink it ‘ot, now.’

  ‘Breeding?’ Nell faltered a little over the word as she took the milk obediently.

  Mrs Ridley gave her a quick glance up and down. ‘Three months?’ she hazarded. ‘Not more ’n four.’

  ‘Three. But nobody knows yet, Mrs Ridley. Please don’t say anything. I can’t imagine how you guessed. I don’t want anyone to know just yet.’

  Mrs Ridley’s mouth relaxed into what, for her, passed as a smile.

  ‘I shan’t say nuthin’. Yew get to bed now an’ rest. ‘Tis a tricky ol’ time, the third month. Movin’ ’ouse ’n I don’t know what all!’

  Clicking her tongue disapprovingly, Mrs Ridley passed from the room and Nell undressed quickly and climbed between the warm sheets. She lay propped against the pillows, sipping the slightly oddtasting milk and listening to an owl in the woods. It was only after she’d set down the mug and was almost asleep that it occurred to her that Mrs Ridley had laced the milk with brandy.

  HENRY SAW NELL GO and caught Gussie’s eye questioningly. Gussie shook her head. She guessed that Nell needed to be alone and she intended to see that her privacy was respected. Gussie was enjoying herself enormously. The guests treated her as though she were almost part owner of Nethercombe with Henry and she revelled in this wonderful feeling of belonging. She’d needed her mantra less and less since she’d been here, although her gratitude to the Almighty had increased more and more as her blessings pressed in upon her. Truly her cup was running over. She moved among their friends and her heart was full of happiness. Only Nell was a cause for concern. Even Gillian seemed quieter just lately, less provocative, readier to adapt. Perhaps her first instinct had been wrong and all Gillian needed was time. She shivered a little in the cool night air and wondered if the moment had come to shepherd everyone indoors.

  The same idea had already occurred to Gillian, whose dress was not designed for warmth, and she was already encouraging people up towards the house. The party had been a great success and Gillian was puzzled that her enjoyment of it had been rather muted. She was not even particularly disappointed at her singular lack of success with Guy or annoyed at his obvious interest in Nell. She had felt this strange listlessness ever since her lunch with Sam Whittaker; she simply couldn’t get him out of her mind. She was beginning to realise that her first sensations of nervousness should have warned her that this relationship was going to be unlike anything she’d known before. She imagined that it would take the usual course but Sam seemed to be in no hurry to get her into bed and she was confused. They’d met several times now but Sam seemed much more interested in their project than in seriously pursuing her and Gillian began to wonder if she were mistaken in his intentions. She found him immensely attractive and this tendency to hold her at arm’s length only fascinated and excited her more. During their discussions, she would catch an expression in his eye or he would run his finger across the back of her hand and she would know, without doubt, that he felt exactly as she did. But as the days passed and he made no move, doubt would creep back and she felt uncertain and off balance. Her ambition to find an investor for his scheme grew strong and she was determined to achieve it, and not just because of the handsome commission he’d promised her.

  Up in the drawing room she took Henry his coffee, pausing to kiss him lightly on the cheek. Hitherto, she’d been careless of his feelings and suspicions. It was different now. This was far too important to jeopardise. She knew instinctively that Sam was not the sort of man who would want a messy relationship. He would be up and away at the least sign of an angry husband or a badly conducted liaison. Gillian smiled at the surprised Henry but bit her lip as she turned away. If only she could find someone with some money to spare, someone who could recognise a good deal. Sam was prepared to be very generous to whoever helped to get his scheme off the ground. Suddenly she thought of Elizabeth. After all, this was quite different from borrowing money. Elizabeth might welcome the opportunity of such an investment. Gillian took a deep breath and turned a blinding smile upon Joan Beresford who was congratulating her on such a lovely party. Tomorrow she would speak to Elizabeth. Her thoughts flew ahead, imagining herself telling Sam that she had found his investor, accepting his praise and her rewards, and her heart beat hard and fast.

  Henry looked about for Nell and guessed that she’d slipped away to bed. He’d been concerned to see her looking so pale and drawn and thinner, too. In some ways it suited her particular sort of beauty but he was anxious for her as he might be for some mistreated rare and lovely work of art. Like Gussie, he was shocked that John had left her to make the last painful journey to the cottage alone and his chivalrous nature longed to cherish and protect her as much as he was able, but his feelings for her were all emotional. No physical desire stirred to distress him. He smiled at Gillian’s kiss and beamed at Gussie’s evident happiness and felt content. He accepted the limitations of his marriage philosophically and immersed himself, as he had always done, in the continuation and preservation of Nethercombe.

  Upstairs, Nell slept fitfully as nightmares and strange presentiments disturbed her rest and she tossed and muttered until, finally towards dawn, she fell into a heavy dreamless slumber.

  Twelve

  TO NELL’S OVERWHELMING RELIEF, Jack’s sorrow at the news of the cottage being sold was quite overshadowed by his delight when he heard about the new baby. Along with the relief, Nell felt surprise at his excitement. Far from suspecting that he had longed for a brother or sister, she feared that he might be horrified by the news. She imagined that he would find the whole thing embarrassing and, knowing eleven-year-old boys, wondered how he would deal with it at school. As usual, Jack’s confidence was quite equal to it and he was hardly out of the car on the first day back before he was telling the glad tidings to his friends. There were no sniggerings or pitying glances and Nell felt, such was Jack’s charisma, that his friends’ mothers would soon be besieged with requests for babies. She felt quite weak with gratitude and drove back to Bristol with a lighter heart. The proceeds from the sale of the cottage had eased the burden a little, lightening John’s spirits and, encouraged by Jack’s love and optimism, Nell was determined that she and John must face any new troubles together rather than allow problems to drive them apart.

  For a few weeks Nell held to the belief that this could be achieved but the financial situation was already beginning to deteriorate again when John’s mother died. The half-term trip to Nethercombe had to be postponed because of her funeral and John felt a new guilt. He should have spent more ti
me with her, visited her more often but, even as he thought it, he knew he was glad that he need never again suffer the humiliation of being weighed in the balance and found wanting or judged and criticised when things went wrong. He remembered a similar reaction when Rupert died and he made haste to justify it by reminding himself of all his old grievances against his mother and brother. Also, of course, there was the house. His mother had very little to leave in the way of money or valuables, she didn’t even run a car, but she owned outright the large family house and this she left to John.

  Nell’s first idea was that they should move into it, close the business and manage on John’s pension until he could find a job. It was wonderful to know that, once again, they could have their own home and she began to dare to believe that things were really beginning to take a turn for the better. She was shocked at herself that this relief was a more strongly felt emotion than grief at her mother-in-law’s death but Nell was beginning to understand the meaning of the word ‘survival’ and the security of her own family must come first. She’d never had a particularly close relationship with John’s mother, nevertheless she knew she was being specious when she told herself that, since Rupert’s death, John’s mother had lost all her zest for life – after all, surely no one would prefer death to life – but it made her feel less ashamed of her relief.

  Jack was the most affected by his grandmother’s death. He genuinely mourned the kind old lady who had seen in him a reincarnation of Rupert and had always shown him great affection and never failed to exhibit pride in all his achievements. He insisted on going to the funeral in his Sunday suit and felt quite comfortable about the fact that she was now with his grandfather and Uncle Rupert in some celestial mansion, which was a great deal better for her, in his opinion, than living on her own in Bournemouth. Since she’d always evinced such pleasure in his company he felt regretful that she hadn’t been allowed to see more of him but he was prepared to be philosophical about it. Nor was it his fault, since the rarity of his trips to see her was mainly due to the fact that her obvious adoration of Jack exacerbated all John’s resentments and insecurities and visits took place mostly when Jack was at school.