‘You left your pipe behind this morning,’ she told him as he dropped into the chair vacated by Gareth.
He glanced at the ashtray. ‘So I did, but I have another in the office.’
‘Just like that one?’
He nodded. ‘A man I know up in Scotland who’s partly paralysed made them.’
‘Does he make them to sell? If so, he can’t be making much money. They’re so intricate. It must take ages to make just one.’
‘He just makes them for friends. It’s a hobby, not his living. He’s a rich man, actually, but he likes doing things with his hands.’
Ruth was scarcely listening to what he was saying. She was concentrating on the lines of his face, the changed expression as he spoke of his friend. She was beginning to see why he had such a reputation. He could be infuriating, he was arrogant as many men were, but he could also be wonderful.
She jerked herself out of her thoughts and picked up the morning’s paper.
‘Gareth and I were looking at the property market,’ she told him.
‘Oh, really? Is he buying—or are you?’
‘I am, of course. Remember? This is only a short-term temporary arrangement.’
‘I hope it is,’ he agreed aggravatingly. ‘And did you see anything worth following up?’
She picked up a pen and ringed round the one she had mentioned to Gareth. She was not surprised that his reaction was exactly the same with slightly different words.
‘For goodness’ sake, girl, you can’t live in one of those!’ he exploded.
‘And why not? Other people do.’
‘You are not “other people”. There’s no garden, you’re hemmed in by neighbours. It’s unthinkable. You’re not the type to be happy in one of those kind of houses.’
‘No? Then what type do you think I am?’
‘You know perfectly well without being told. You’re the kind who can’t exist happily without a garden, without trees all around you. You need to be free like a bird. You’d feel as cooped up as if you were in a cage in that terrace house.’
‘But it’s within my price range. I don’t want to saddle myself with a heavy mortgage which will worry me to death to keep up. I need to have my mind free for my work.’
‘Which it wouldn’t be if you were to stifle yourself in a house with traffic rumbling by and a backyard you couldn’t swing a cat round in,’ he insisted. He ran his eyes down the column of houses for sale. ‘Now here’s one—overlooking the Knightwood Inclosure—’
‘Oh, very nice, I’m sure,’ Ruth intervened sarcastically. ‘Can’t you get it into your head? I just haven’t got that kind of money.’
It occurred to her in a vague sort of way that they were talking to each other much as old friends might, and marvelled how her attitude towards him had changed.
‘Mm,’ he murmured thoughtfully, and went on as though she had never spoken: ‘I think I might buy it myself.’
She looked at him in astonishment. ‘Buy it yourself? Why on earth should you do that? You know perfectly well the Commission like you to live in their house.’
‘True—and I intend to. In fact, I’m doing that right now, aren’t I? It’s just that I’m toying with the idea of becoming a property owner. It so happens that I could afford it.’
‘But what would you do with it? Let it lie empty?’
He darted her a reproving look. ‘Never heard of rented property? An investment?’
‘Sure, but I wouldn’t have thought this was the best time for investing in houses. In the present economic climate prices are likely to fall rather than rise.’
His eyes widened. ‘The present economic climate? What kind of jargon is that for an artist?’
‘I may be an artist, but I’m not entirely ignorant of what’s going on in the world,’ she retorted.
‘Seemingly not, but I happen to think that owning a house is always a good investment. What about coming with me right now to have a look at it?’
He really was the most incredible man. ‘Why me?’
‘Why not you?’ he countered. ‘You happen to be around, and I’m not one to let grass grow under my feet, once I’ve got an idea.’
‘Obviously not.’
He stood up. ‘Come on, then. We can call at the estate agent’s office on the way.’
‘And what if somebody else has got there before you?’
‘Oh, come on, girl. We’ll deal with that eventuality when we come to it.’
Resignedly, she allowed him to usher her out of the house and into his car. The estate agent’s office was only a short distance, and on the way to the Knightwood Inclosure. And as Ruth fully expected, the house was still available, the key in the office. Not only that, the people selling the house had already moved out.
Ross took the keys and grinned triumphantly at Ruth as if he had waved the magic wand himself.
‘What did I tell you? Come on, let’s go and see.’ He took hold of her hand, and Ruth raised her eyes to heaven as he led her back to the car. It was his business, of course, but she couldn’t for the life of her think why he wanted to buy a house when as long as he worked for the Forestry Commission he could always be assured of one in which to live.
But it was a dream of a house. Ruth could not think why anyone would want to leave it. It had a separate dining room which would just have been right for her piano, Ruth thought wistfully. It had a large lounge, similar to the one in the Head Forester’s house, and leading from a small rear lobby was a delightful conservatory. As to the garden, it was a mass of colour, while the view from the bedroom windows was perfect Trees, and yet more trees.
‘It just isn’t fair!’ Ruth wailed.
‘What isn’t?’ asked Ross.
‘It’s a perfect dream, but I haven’t the money.’
‘You’d be too late, anyway. I’m buying it,’ he said. ‘I’ve made up my mind.’
She could have hit him. ‘And what are you going to do with it?’
‘I’ve told you—let it. Do you know of anyone who’s looking for accommodation?’
She looked at him suspiciously. This must be his idea of a joke. Or was he in a hurry to get her away from the Forester’s house, and as she couldn’t seem to find a suitable place he was offering her this opening? It was true, really, that a house was an asset. All the same, it was something of a mystery as to why he should suddenly decide to buy a house simply as an investment.
‘You’re not thinking of leaving the service, are you?’ she asked him.
‘No. Whatever gave you that idea?’ She didn’t answer. ‘Well, I’ll have to be getting back on the job, and I suppose you’re anxious to get back to your painting. I’ll just have time to drop these keys back to the estate office and tell them I’m buying it, then see them tomorrow.’
Ruth said very little until he dropped her off at the house, then she said quietly: “Would you consider renting your house to me?’
‘Yes, I’d certainly consider it,’ he answered maddeningly. ‘We’ll talk it over later. This evening, if you like. I’ll be home around six. O.K?’
She found herself nodding in agreement, and he had gone before she realised her declared intention to be out of the house each evening before he returned. He was trying to run her life, that’s what he was doing. Well, she wasn’t having it. She just simply wouldn’t be here when he came home. She would show him that he couldn’t order her about. She was not one of his Forest workers.
A small voice inside her told her she might be cutting off her nose to spite her face. Suppose, if she were not here, he let that lovely house to someone else? She did an hour’s painting and decided on a course of action which would be a compromise. She would go into Lyndhurst and buy an evening paper, then take that and the daily back with her to Mrs. Smith’s house, have her meal, study more thoroughly the properties for sale, then come back here somewhere around eight o’clock. That would give Ross sufficient time to realise that she was not at his beck and call, or to have given her up a
ltogether.
The decision gave a definite lift to her spirits. But there were two things she had not reckoned on. One was that Gareth called to see her while she was still at Mrs. Smith’s house going through the papers, and the other was that Ross rang. Gareth had just arrived when Mrs. Smith answered the telephone and brought in the message.
‘Do you want to come and speak to him?’ she asked.
‘No, she doesn’t,’ Gareth answered swiftly.
‘Gareth!’ Ruth admonished. She turned to Mrs. Smith. ‘Would you mind telling him that I can’t come to the phone just now, but that I’ll be over to see him some time during the evening?’
That will teach him, she thought rather gleefully. She heard Mrs. Smith replace the telephone receiver after giving Ross the message, and as Mrs. Smith did not return Ruth concluded that there was no danger of Ross not being at home later on.
‘What do you mean, you’re going back during the evening?’ Gareth asked in an aggrieved tone. ‘What’s going on?’
Briefly, Ruth put him in the picture and, predictably, Gareth blew his top.
‘What on earth does the man think he’s playing at? He’s got some heinous scheme in mind, believe me.’ Gareth was quite beside himself.
Ruth laughed gently. ‘Oh, Gareth, don’t be silly. Maybe he’s buying it for his old age or something.’
‘Well, don’t you get any more involved with him, please, Ruth. Living in his house will give him some kind of hold on you. Maybe that’s what he wants. You’re one of the few women in the area who hasn’t been falling over backwards to get a date with him—though heaven knows why. You’re the exception and he’s trying other means to get you.’
‘Really, Gareth! You dislike him so much, your judgement is all to pot. If I rent the house from him, surely it will be far better than our present arrangement. And don’t worry, he wouldn’t stand an earthly with me, even if he wanted to—which I’m sure he doesn’t,’ she added, her tongue in her cheek. ‘Anyway, we barely tolerate each other. Every time we meet we have a row. If he does let me rent this house he’s buying, it will only be until I can find a suitable one of my own, or accrue a little more money.’
Gareth sighed. ‘Oh, all right, but I tell you, I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.’
Even making a detailed study of the two local newspapers Ruth still did not see either a house or cottage for sale which sounded suitable or was within her price range.
‘I’d better go,’ she told Gareth as the clock on the mantelpiece crept to eight o’clock. ‘I really would like that place of his for a little while. He might even let me buy it from him one day. It hasn’t an attic, but it has a large bedroom with a northerly outlook which will be fine for me to work in.’
Reluctantly, Gareth let her go after getting her to promise to go to the dance at the Foresters’ Club on the coming Saturday.
‘And let me know when you’re likely to move into that house. I can come and help you.’
As she drove back to the house she had called her home for so many years, Ruth became filled with apprehension. Suppose Ross changed his mind about letting her rent the house he was buying? When she had asked him if he would consider renting it to her, he had not sounded sure by any means. She did not really mind their present arrangement, but it was not ideal. Her friends—especially Gareth—were used to coming and going as they pleased, but it was Ross’s home now. In addition to that, it would be much more convenient for her to live where she worked, as quite often she felt like doing some more work during the evening when she had not actually planned to. Or she might get an idea and want to put something down on canvas straight away.
When she arrived at the house there was another car parked outside, and she hesitated about going in. But Ross was expecting her, and she could always wait upstairs in her room if he had a caller, or even go up to her studio.
Ruth let herself in by the front door. Perhaps Ross had a visit from the D.O. The car outside did look rather like his—at least, it was the same colour. She had not particularly noticed the make. She could hear sounds coining from the kitchen, but entering the house from the front door, one had to pass the living room door first Ruth glanced in and received a minor shock.
Sitting in the chair usually occupied by herself—when she was not seated on the hearthrug—was Linda Appleton.
CHAPTER EIGHT
For a moment Ruth stood stockstill in the doorway. She did not know Linda very well personally, only by reputation as Linda did not normally move in the same circle as the employees of the Forestry Commission, but somehow the sight of her sitting there had come as a shock. .
Linda gave a slow smile and said ‘Hello,’ in a faintly patronising voice. ‘Ross is in the kitchen making coffee. Perhaps you’d care to join us,’ she added.
As if she were mistress of the house, thought Ruth. She turned on her heel without answering and went in search of Ross.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘So you’ve condescended to come, after all.’
Ruth’s eyes blazed. She felt she was being attacked from all sides in her own home.
‘And what do you mean by that?’ she demanded.
‘What I say. You promised to be here when I came home from work this evening.’
‘I did nothing of the sort. You made that arrangement and just expected me to agree with it.’
‘Which you did. You didn’t disagree. As I remember rightly, you nodded, which in most people’s book constitutes an answer in the affirmative.’
‘It was not all that decisive,’ she argued defensively. ‘In any case, I had to go into town.’
‘Then why didn’t you come back here? Why go back to Mrs.. Smith’s? You could have had a meal here. In fact—’ He broke off. ‘Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Linda is here now, anyway, as you’ve no doubt seen.’
‘I certainly have, and she had the nerve to invite me to have a coffee with you—in my own home!’
‘Tactless,’ he agreed briefly. ‘Well, will you?’
‘Have a coffee with you?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to be treated as a guest in what still feels like my home, thanks. I think the best thing for me to do is go back to Mrs. Smith’s—and perhaps see you in the morning.’
‘One thing—’ he said, as she moved towards the door. ‘Why didn’t you come to the phone when I rang you earlier? And why did you suddenly have to go into Lyndhurst?’
She sighed. ‘Must you have a minute-by-minute breakdown of my movements? I went into town for an evening paper, then I thought I’d go back to Mrs. Smith’s for a meal—she would have one ready, anyway, which proved correct. And then I had a visitor.’
‘Gareth?’ he asked swiftly.
‘Yes,’ she answered heavily. ‘Do you mind? And may I go now, if you’ve no more questions—sir?’
He took a step towards her, a peculiar look in his eyes as they fixed themselves upon her. ‘I’ve half a mind to take you somewhere and give you a jolly good spanking!’
She glared at him, though she had a feeling he would do just that, given half a chance.
‘I don’t know who you think you are,’ she fired at him.
‘I’ll show you who I am—’
He took another step forward, then Ruth saw his gaze shift, and half turned to see Linda standing there.
‘How much longer is that coffee going to be, darling?’ she asked in a silky, seductive voice.
Ruth darted a swift look from one to the other, then stalked out of the kitchen and out of the house. She might have known this would happen sooner or later, she fumed to herself as she drove back to her temporary lodgings. The truth was, Ross didn’t like her friends any more than she liked his. They couldn’t go on like this. It wasn’t working out. If Ross didn’t rent her that lovely house he was buying or she couldn’t find somewhere else, then she would be forced to sell all her furniture, including her father’s beloved piano, and go to live with Jill and Hugh and Gareth, and hunt around for a studio to rent. But
her situation was becoming more and more difficult. She didn’t want to marry Gareth and she certainly couldn’t give up her painting.
It helped her to rail as she drove along. It was only when she tried to sleep that night, still unable to get Ross and her problems out of her mind that she suddenly sat bolt upright in bed.
Of course, that was it. Linda. It was because of Linda that he was anxious to get her right out of the house. She should have known. She recalled the way Linda had greeted him on the very first night of his arrival when the D.O. had brought him to the Club. He had said then that he was thinking of getting married. And it was Linda Appleton.
An appalling sense of desolation gripped her. If Ross married Linda what, then, would she have to live for? She switched on her bedside lamp as though the artificial light would lend clarity to her thoughts. This was terrible. She clutched at her throat which suddenly felt dry and constricted, as the truth dawned upon her.
She was really in love with Ross. For all their quarrels, for all her anger with him, in spite of everything, she had fallen in love with him. It did not matter any more that she had once vowed and declared that she would never succumb to his ‘charms’ or worship at his feet. Nothing mattered. She loved him—she could deny it no longer.
But what was she going to do? What could she do? Perhaps if she hadn’t defied him so much, had shown that she could be likeable—What a fool she had been crossing swords with him almost every time they met. If you wanted to be loved you had to show that you could be lovable. Oh, Ross, she moaned, Ross! He was infuriating, he was bossy, but he was wonderful. And she loved him.
She switched off the light again and lay in the darkness thinking about him. The wonder was not that she had fallen in love with him, but that she had not done so sooner. And yet hadn’t she been in love with him without realising it, without acknowledging it? She closed her eyes and relived the times he had taken her in his arms, especially that night in her home when she had responded to him. Incredibly, she had not understood why. The fact that he had made love to her without being in love with her did not seem to matter at this moment. She savoured the feel of his lips on hers and the sensation of his hands caressing her body, and in this way was lulled to sleep.
Man of the Trees Page 13