Loveknot

by Catherine George

  "In a way."

  "Hm. Well, all I can say, love, is that Alexander was not exactly a ray of sunshine this afternoon."

  "This afternoon?" she said sharply.

  "I thought he was going home to bed."

  "No, darling. He insisted on going back to Ilex Cottage with me to see the damage for himself. Then he bullied a glazier to replace the window at once, and organised a decorator to see to the plastering and paintwork in your bedroom. I rather fancy Alexander thinks the cottage means more to you than anything. Including him." Perry bent to kiss her colour less cheek.

  "Mrs. Rogers has produced a niece who can fill in for you at the office for a few days. So don't think about coming back until you're well. Right?"

  Sophie thanked Perry gratefully, then lay lost in thought once he was gone.

  So Alexander had checked over her cottage in person, after all; rather like heaping coals of fire on her ungrateful head.

  "Cecily's been on the phone," said Kate, coming in with a tea-tray.

  "I said you. were knee-deep in visitors, and suggested she came over for lunch tomorrow."

  Sophie thanked Kate affectionately, drank her tea then went back to bed.

  Rest, she decided, was essential one way and another, if she were to get back to work as quickly as possible, or even muster up sufficient stamina to hold her own against Alexander when he resumed the battle over their future relationship. If he renewed it.

  Alexander made no move to do any such thing, Sophie found, feeling distinctly anticlimactic when his manner towards her was cheerfully friendly during his subsequent visits. These were brief, and no one would have suspected from his demeanour that his feelings towards his sibling-by-marriage were anything more than affectionate concern _about her health. The latter improved daily.

  Sophie's temper did not.

  Her dressings gradually diminished in size, the stitches were removed from her scalp, the soreness and pain died away, and her appetite returned, nurtured lovingly by Kate. Still Alexander spent no more than a few minutes with Sophie at any one time. Some days he was unable to put in an appearance at all, and even when he did he somehow contrived never to be alone with her.

  Sophie began to wonder if the talk of marriage had been a hallucination, born of trauma and concussion. The Alexander who came with books and records as presents for the invalid was more fraternal towards her than her brothers themselves, since the twins' concern was limited to a phone call or two and an extremely vulgar get-well card. Sophie looked forward to her return to work, since it seemed likely she'd see more of Alexander at the office than she did at home "with her father and Kate. But during the first few days back at her post she saw nothing of him at all, since he was away, and she was obliged to make do with secondhand accounts of his movements from Perry.

  Alexander, she concluded, had taken her at her word and decided to drop the subject of marriage. Or any other kind of relationship.

  The prospect was so depressing that Sophie called in the Unicorn on the

  Friday lunch time to volunteer her services over the weekend, and the

  Mitchells, once satisfied Sophie was fully recovered, were gratifyingly eager to take advantage of the offer for Saturday evening. In spite of opposition from her father and Kate, _Sophie insisted on spending the night afterwards at Ilex Cottage on her sitting-room couch, since the bedroom was still recovering from the night of the storm. For the time being Kate was driving her to and from Deansbury each day, but Sophie had no intention of involving either Kate or her father in any social extras.

  Dr Gordon took himself off for a rare round of golf at the weekend and Sophie spent Saturday morning shopping with Kate, then volunteered to make lunch, so that it was Kate who went off to answer the telephone when it rang.

  "Alexander," Kate mouthed silently, and whisked herself upstairs out of earshot.

  "Sophie? How are you after your week at the office?"

  Annoyed to find the mere sound of Alexander's voice affected her knees so badly, Sophie was extra cool with her assurances about her well-being.

  "Then will you have dinner with me tonight, Sophie?"

  She breathed in deeply.

  "Sorry. I can't."

  Can't? Or won't? "

  "I already have an engagement," she-snapped, stung by the sarcasm in his voice.

  "Not surprising, really, Alexander. It is the weekend."

  "I've been away for a couple of days. As you well know," he added curtly.

  "Yes, I do. Successful?"

  "Never mind that." Alexander sounded brusque and impatient.

  "Can't you put off whoever you're tied up with tonight? I want to talk to you."

  "Sorry," she cooed.

  "Can't be done. Some other time, perhaps." She heard a loud click in her ear, then smiled, cat-like, as she put the phone down.

  "You look very pleased with yourself," observed Kate over lunch.

  Sophie grinned.

  "I am, rather. Alexander asked me out to dinner."

  Kate eyed her narrowly.

  "I assume he wasn't overjoyed to learn you're working at the Unicorn."

  "I didn't tell him. He thinks I'm going out with someone else."

  Kate shook her head.

  "I wish you two would sort yourselves out, you know. It's wearing to be in the same room with the pair of you these days."

  "You haven't been lately," said Sophie tartly. "Alexander's been conspicuous by his absence."

  "Ah! I see."

  Sophie scowled at her new stepmother blackly, then began to laugh.

  "You think I'm behaving like a spoilt child." . ‘“No." Kate smiled.

  "Like a girl in love, Sophie."

  Saturday night was, not surprisingly, very busy at the Unicorn.

  Sophie was welcomed with open arms by the new girl who'd taken over behind the bar. Linda was tall and blonde and very good-natured, but, as she said to Sophie, she had only one pair of hands and feet, and even with mine host and his wife working at full stretch, extra help was a godsend.

  For most of the evening Sophie coped very well, dealing pleasantly with the customers and doing her share of the chores. Then, towards nine, a lull enabled Frank Mitchell to go down to the cellar for _more soft drinks, and

  Sophie to round up the empty glasses. The lounge bar was the haunt of smart young couples, except for one large table crammed with noisy young men celebrating the home win of the local rugby team. As Sophie collected a handful of tankards, the most presentable of the group caught her round the waist, grinning familiarly into her startled face.

  "You're new, love. Haven't I seen you somewhere before?"

  Loud brays of laughter from his companions greeted the hoary approach, and

  Sophie did her best to smile pleasantly as she removed herself smartly from the young man's grasp.

  "Trouble?" asked Anna Mitchell, as Sophie returned to the bar.

  "No. Harmless enough, I think." But she was glad to take the landlady's advice and remain behind the bar, leaving Frank Mitchell to collect glasses from then on.

  Her Lothario, however, was undeterred. On his way back from the men's cloakroom he elbowed himself a place at the bar and remained there, watching

  Sophie's every move during the time he took to dispose of three pints of beer.

  "Creepy," said Linda in an undertone.

  "One of the Dawsons from Mile End House. Fancies his chance with the girls."

  "Not with this one!" Sophie tried to ignore the unswerving stare, but it was difficult, busy though she was. Then she tried moving to the other end of the bar, but her admirer promptly followed, thrusting to a point of vantage as near to her as he could _get, waving a twenty-pound note under her nose.

  "Give me a whisky this time, darling," he said, smiling at Sophie with the confidence of someone who believed himself irresistible.

  "Certainly, sir." Sophie supplied the drink, took the note and gave him his change, counting it into his outstretched hand. Sud
denly he caught her wrist.

  "Can I drive you home later?"

  Sophie shook her head, smiling pleasantly. "Sorry."

  "Oh, come on, don't be shy." He smiled cajolingly, his fingers tightening.

  "Pretty girl like you shouldn't be shy."

  "Please excuse me--I have other customers to see to," said Sophie, feeling her temper rise.

  " It's all right with Frank. He knows me." The man laughed.

  "Everyone knows me. I'm Phil Dawson, from Mile End Housed It was an announcement expected to impress.

  How do you do? “Sophie pulled her hand away sharply, conscious of amused faces watching the little interplay, then hurried off, irritated. Her undismayed admirer stayed where he was, never taking his eyes off her, and refused to let anyone else serve him a drink.

  "Humour him if you can," said Frank Mitchell quietly.

  "Don't worry.

  I'll see he doesn't get out of hand. "

  Reluctantly Sophie supplied the persistent young man with a second whisky, and once more he captured her hand.

  "You're cute," he informed her.

  _And you're beginning to bore me," she retorted. “Let go. "

  "Now, now, don't be unfriendly, sweetheart." He was very flushed by this time, with a dangerously belligerent look about him.

  "Girls like me," he bragged loudly.

  "Not this one!" Sophie tugged angrily, but he hung on to her hand, his face turning ugly as he realised she meant what she said.

  Suddenly a familiar hand shot from behind to close in a grip of iron on the unfortunate Mr. Dawson's wrist, and Sophie stared up in dismay at the formidable sight of Alexander in a towering rage.

  "Who the hell are you?" blustered her unwanted admirer.

  "The lady's fiance. Take your hands off her. Now!"

  Any protest the importunate Phil Dawson had in mind died a very quick death as he saw the look in the eyes of Sophie's rescuer.

  "Just a bit of fun," he muttered, and retreated hastily, leaving Sophie to the full force of Alexander's icy displeasure.

  "I've had a word with Frank Mitchell. You're coming with me. Now. Get your coat," said Alexander very quietly.

  Sophie opened her mouth to protest.

  "If you don't," he said, forestalling her,

  "I shall come round there and carry you out bodily."

  It was patently clear Alexander meant what he said. Sophie took leave of the

  Mitchells and Linda, then collected her coat and followed Alexander to the car park at the back of the Unicorn. In fraught silence she slid into the car as he held the door open for her.

  "You had no business to do that," she said coldly, deciding to carry the war into the enemy's camp as he started the car.

  "I disagree. Unless, of course, you enjoy being pawed by all and sundry."

  Sophie decided to ignore this.

  "How did you know where I was?"

  "I went to see Kate and your father." Alexander gave her a cold, sidelong look.

  "I learnt that this isn't the first time you've worked at the Unicorn. And that David is no happier about it than I am."

  "But he, of course, being a man of reason, realises I'm adult and able to do what I like with my life, whether it's working in a pub or living on my own."

  Sophie stared stonily through the windscreen.

  Alexander made no reply. He drove in taut silence, swiftly and skilfully, as always, until they reached Brading and the high hedges of Willow Reach.

  Sophie kept up her silence stubbornly as she slid out of the car, disdaining his helping hand as she stalked ahead of him.

  "I thought you'd like to see the place now it's finished," said Alexander neutrally, as he unlocked the door.

  Sophie's anger began to recede almost as soon as she put foot inside the house. There was something in the atmosphere of Willow Reach which made her anger and resentment seem unnecessary, and almost against her will she felt her defiance _dissolve. The peace and tranquillity of the house was a tangible thing, something she could almost reach out and touch as she walked with Alexander through the graceful, uncluttered rooms, gazing at the harmony their mutual blend of taste had achieved. She was shaken badly by a fierce pang of possessiveness and subsided on one of the sofas in the drawing-room, a prey to emotions she shied from analysing.

  "It's beautiful, Alexander. Perfect." He sat beside her, turning sardonic eyes on her pensive face.

  "Beautiful, yes. Perfect, no."

  "Oh, I know it's not fully furnished yet " I meant it's not a house for a man to live in alone. No, hear me," he said, as Sophie would have spoken.

  "It's strange," he went on.

  "I altered the Chantry for Delphine, because she thought it was so smart to turn an old house into the kind of showplace you see in magazines. Yet afterwards there was no mark of her personality there. Nor oddly enough, of me, although I'd lived there all my life and designed the alterations myself.

  In fact, when I visit Kate and David there now, it's their house already.

  So much so I might never have been there at all."

  "But this house is yours," said Sophie. She twisted the gold signet ring on her little finger, not looking at him.

  "This is your creation, isn't it? Your brain-child. The other occupants were almost like caretakers, in a way. Just keeping it ready for you to take over one day."

  Alexander nodded.

  "Exactly. And the fact that you understand so well only underlines what I'm

  about to say."

  Sophie stiffened.

  "Alexander she began, but he reached out and put a finger on her lips.

  Let me finish, Sophie. Please. “She subsided, her pulse racing at his touch. “Don’t look so tense, Sophie," he said gently.

  "I just thought you'd like to know the house is haunted."

  "By the mistress of your Restoration courtier?"

  "No. One can be haunted by events from the future, not just the past."

  Alexander moved until he was near enough to take her hand.

  "In this house I'm haunted by you, Sophie, by a vision of how it would be if we were here together, sharing our lives." He took her by the shoulders, turning her towards him.

  "We happen to have arrived at this juncture in the opposite direction from most people, Sophie. We've known each other so well all our lives, we never saw what was under our noses all the time."

  "How can I believe that when you almost married Delphine?" said Sophie urgently.

  "And the “almost" bit is due to her not you. If Terry Foyle hadn't arrived that day to tempt Delphine to the States, you'd be a much married man by now."

  "And regretting it." A look of distaste shadowed Alexander's face, then he smiled.

  "Funny, really. Terry Foyle, unknown to himself, will always have my undying gratitude."

  "If we we did get married," said Sophie with care, 'how do you know you might not repent in haste over me, too? "

  Alexander drew her very gently into his arms.

  "Because we've done all the other part, Sophie. We know each other better than some couples learn to do all their lives. You've worked with me, known me at my worst. God knows, and hopefully at my best, too." He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face up to his.

  "All that's left is to become lovers. Would that be so difficult?"

  "You know only too well how easy it would be." Sophie looked up into his intent face.

  "Which leads me to ask for my own say, Alexander.

  Before you go any further I'd like to put forward a proposition of my own. "

  Alexander looked rather as though she'd thrown a bucket of water in his face.

  "What is it?" he asked warily.

  Sophie took in a deep breath.

  "You know how I feel about domesticity.

  I'm no career woman, I grant you that, but I enjoy my job and if I have to carry on with it all my working life I'll be perfectly happy. You see, now, for the first time ever, I've got a place of
my own, a life of my own, with no one to consider but me. And I love it, He jerked away, jumping to his feet.

  "Then there's no more to be said."

  "No, wait! You hear me out this time." Sophie hesitated, then blurted,