The Wings of Love

by Sally Wentworth

  The Wings of Love

  Sally Wentworth

  CHAPTER ONE

  'BUT I don't want to go. Why should I?' Tressy Sinclair slammed her coffee mug on the kitchen table and stood up, her anger too strong to be contained.

  Her mother looked at her unhappily and, with a sigh, began to plead. 'It's only for three months or so. Most girls would jump at the chance of spending the summer on the French Riviera; I know I would.'

  'Then you go,' Tressy answered rudely, then shook her head, impatient with herself for having made such a silly remark. 'All right, you don't have to say it; I know they want me and not you. Although why they couldn't have asked you as well I don't know-they can certainly afford it.'

  'Your uncle says in his letter,' Mrs Sinclair pointed out patiently, 'that they want you to go along as a sort of companion for Leonora. It'll be like a holiday. And you could do with one, love. You've worked hard enough these last few years.'

  'Rubbish!' Tressy answered scornfully. 'They weren't interested in me before I got my qualification as a beautician and hairdresser. They just want me along as some kind of glorified lady's maid to Aunt Grace and Nora.'

  'Leonora,' her mother corrected tiredly.

  'It was always Nora before they got ambitions to climb the social ladder.'

  'But you can't say they ignored you, Tressy. You spent lots of holidays with them when you were a child.'

  'Yes-always as the poor relation, always pointed out to their friends as the object of their munificence. Until I refused to show abject gratitude all the time; they soon stopped asking me then.' Putting her hands on the back of a chair, she leaned forward earnestly. 'And it would be just the same this time, Mum. I'd hate every minute of it. And I'm sure they just want to use me.'

  'But your uncle did help pay for you to go to college, Tressy. You owe him for that.'

  'But I swore I'd pay him back every penny, and I intend to. Every time I get a commission I put a percentage into the Post Office. But I've hardly got started yet-you know that.'

  'Yes, of course I do.' Mrs Sinclair looked at her daughter with sympathy, knowing just how hard she'd worked, first at college, then at trying to establish her own freelance business, visiting clients in their homes to give them a complete beauty treatment, usually before they attended some special function, in the meantime supplementing her income by taking whatever temporary jobs she could get, mostly modeling or demonstrating.

  'And I'm just starting to get known,' Tressy added urgently. 'People I've worked for are recommending me to their friends. If I go away for three months now that will be lost and I'll have to start all over again when I get back. You can't ask me to do it, Mum. It just isn't fair!'

  'I'm not asking you to do it. It's your Uncle Jack.

  And you've got to admit that he's been good to us. He didn't have to help when your father left us.'

  'No, but it was the way he did it-telling you to ask him when you needed anything, so that every time you had to go to him you felt as if you were begging. He could easily have made you an allowance, so that you were at least left with some pride, for God's sake!

  Her voice sharp, her mother said, 'You don't have to speak like that about him, Tressy. I was very ill after your father left. If it hadn't been for Uncle Jack you might have been put into a home, and I might have lost you, too.' Abruptly she stood up, and picking up the coffee mugs, stepped to the sink and began to wash them.

  Tressy looked at her mother's back, at her hair, prematurely greying because of the years of worry and work. She had no real choice, she knew that. She either had to do what her uncle wanted or else make the complete break and leave home altogether. And although she often didn't see eye to eye with her mother and there were rows, Tressy wasn't prepared to desert her, even though she knew she would probably be happier if she did. Living with a woman whose husband had walked out on her wasn't easy; her mother clung too much. So there was anger and rebellion mixed up with the pity that Tressy felt for her. 'Oh God,' she burst out, 'how I hate being poor!'

  Mrs Sinclair turned angrily to face her. 'I've done my best for you, heaven knows.'

  'I know, you've told me often enough. But it doesn't stop me from wishing we had some’ money, does it?'

  With an angry glare, her mother said, 'Are you going to accept your uncle's offer or not?' Adding quickly, 'You could look on it as helping to pay him back for what he's done for you.'

  'But I didn't want it this way. I wanted to pay him with money, real money that I could have shoved into his fat hands.'

  'Yes, well, beggars can't be choosers,' her mother pointed out tartly, her North Country upbringing showing in her speech.

  'And so long as you have that attitude you'll never get anywhere,' Tressy retorted. Then, with a resentful sigh, 'Yes, all right, I'll go. You give me no choice. And for heaven's sake don't start telling me that I'm sure to have a good time,' she added as her mother smiled and opened her mouth. 'I can think of nothing worse than being stuck with Nora and her parents for three months!'

  For a moment they stood and faced each other angrily, and then Mrs Sinclair turned and went into the hall where she picked up the phone. Tressy watched her for a moment and then went up to her room. As she climbed the stairs she heard her mother saying, 'Yes, of course, Jack, Tressy would love to come. It's very kind of you to invite her ... '

  'You can help Leonora to pack,' Aunt Grace instructed her soon after she'd arrived. 'I'm sure we're not going to have enough cases,' she added with an anxious frown. 'Have you got any room in yours?'

  'No,' Tressy replied firmly. 'Where's Uncle Jack?' 'He's still at the yard. And I expect he'll stay there until he's good and sure that all the packing's done,' she said bitterly. 'He's left me to see to everything. Just like a man!' She bustled off; she was a very big woman, the complete opposite to her name, and Tressy marvelled at the optimism her parents had shown in giving it to her. But then you never could tell how tiny babies in their cradles were going to turn out.

  Tressy went up with Nora to her room and looked with some misgivings at the three large half-filled suitcases that were on the bed. Most of the drawers and wardrobes were open and there were odd piles of clothes on chairs and the floor.

  Nora sighed. 'I don't know where to start. Mummy said I've got to get everything packed today, but I can't decide which things to take.' There were fitted wardrobes all along one wall, and going to one, she opened the door and ran her hand along the things inside indecisively, pulling out a couple of dresses. 'I think I'd better take these. Although if I pack them now they'll get awfully creased.' She brightened. 'But that doesn't matter, because Mummy said you could iron them for me when we get there.'

  'Oh, did she?' Any willingness Tressy had to help her cousin died stillborn. Picking up a pile of underclothes from a chair, she put them on the floor and sat down, crossing her long legs. 'Are you going to take any pairs of trousers with you? You should really put those at the bottom of the cases.' Sitting back in her chair, she began to tell the other girl what to do.

  Unlike his younger brother, Tressy's father, Jack Sinclair had always done well, inheriting a small building business and turning it into a thriving concern with an annual turnover well into seven figures, as he never tired of telling everyone. He lived, still, in the same town where he had been born, Oldham in Lancashire, an industrial county in the north of England, but now he lived in a very large Edwardian house on the edge of the town instead of in the old cottage next door to the builder's yard. He had sent down some money to pay for Tressy's journey and there was just enough for the train fare and for a taxi to the house. The driver's tip Tressy had to find herself, presumably her uncle either hadn't taken it into account or didn't give them. She supposed, cynical
ly, that she ought to think herself lucky he hadn't expected her to take the bus.

  Her aunt and Nora greeted her perfunctorily, too engrossed in packing for the holiday and closing up the house for the summer to take much notice of her. They were to spend one more night in England and then catch a plane from Manchester Airport to Nice early tomorrow morning.

  Tressy was well experienced in handling Nora, all you had to do was to give her frequent and uncomplicated instructions and she would happily carry them out. It came from having had a convent schooling, although Nora wasn't a Catholic, it had simply been the fashionable school for all the rich men of the area to send their daughters to. There Nora had got used to being told what to do every minute of the day and she still responded to it.

  Tressy watched her cousin while she packed, trying to define what was different about her since the last time she and her aunt had stayed with them in London, using her mother's house as a free hotel while they went on a shopping spree. The most noticeable thing was that Nora was much thinner; a true offspring of her mother, Nora was meant to be a big girl, she was tall, about five feet nine inches, the same as Tressy, but where Tressy was slender with a delicate bone structure, Nora was big-boned and usually on the plump side. But now she must have lost quite a lot of weight, but it didn't suit her, she just looked gaunt.

  'Have you been ill?' Tressy asked her.

  'No. Oh, you've noticed that I'm slimmer,' said Nora with satisfaction. 'I've been on a crash diet, at a health farm.'

  Personally Tressy thought she looked far from healthy, but there had been a trace of smugness in Nora's voice, as if she was keeping something to herself. Looking at her cousin more carefully, Tressy noticed, too, that she'd had her hair done in a far more sophisticated style and, if Tressy was any judge, she'd' also had the colour lightened to make it fairer. They were both twenty-one, Tressy being the elder by six months, but their different environments had made them develop at different rates so that Tressy had always felt light years older than Nora, but now she wondered if her cousin was starting to catch up at last and assert her own personality. And there was an intriguing hint of excitement in her manner, too. Tressy decided to find out the reason for it.

  Getting up, she went and knelt by one of the many large boxes on the floor with a very famous name on the lid and opened it. 'What have you got in here?' She began to unwrap the layers of tissue paper, but Nora rushed over and snatched the box from her. 'Don't touch that-it's my new underwear.'

  'Really? Why can't I look at it? Do show me, Nora.' 'No, they're private.'

  But it didn't take more than a few minutes of mixed persuasion and bullying for Nora to eventually join her on the floor and take the things out of the box one by one. Tressy caught her breath, entranced by the delicate silk garments in palest pink, edged by the finest lace, real lace. Nora had the whole set: full slip, bra, suspender belt, French knickers, tiny bikini pants, camisole and nightdress; the whole works.

  'My God, Nora, they're beautiful!' Tressy put out a reverent fingertip to gently touch the lace. 'They must have cost a small fortune. Were they a present or something?'

  'Well, sort of,' Nora owned smugly, carefully putting each garment back into the box. 'Mummy bought them for me, and loads of other things too. I need them, you see, for-for France.'

  Tressy glanced at her sharply, noticing the hesitation. 'But you've been to France for holidays before, haven't you?' she asked casually.

  'Yes, but this is-well, different.'

  'In what way?' Tressy demanded, wondering why she'd been specifically asked along on this year's trip. 'Well,' Nora tried to look coy, but it just didn't work on her, she just looked silly, 'actually, we'll be seeing someone there that I know.'

  'A man?' Tressy hardly needed to guess. 'Why, Nora, you old slyboots! Don't tell me you've fallen in love? Who's the lucky man?' she asked with smiling mockery.

  Nora looked at her uncertainly for a moment, but she had never been able to tell when Tressy was taking the mickey out of her and, reassured by her smile, she happily launched into the whole story. 'Oh, he's wonderful, really fabulous! Daddy met him through business and brought him back here for a meal one evening. I fell for him straight away. He's so masterful, Tressy, you wouldn't believe. And terribly good-looking. And Mummy and Daddy like him, too.' Her cheeks flushed with excitement as she went on eagerly. 'The next time he came up north Daddy invited him to stay here with us and I really got to know him then.'

  'He isn't local, then?'

  'No, he lives in London. He's the managing director of a big finance company in London, and terribly well off, Daddy says. He bought Mummy a beautiful crystal vase as a present for having him to stay. And he was only here for two days. Of course he was going to stay longer, but something cropped up and he had to go back early. He was really sorry he had to go; he said so. And he sent Mummy a charming note with the vase. He has perfect manners. And you really feel feminine when you're with him. Do you know what I mean? He makes you feel like a lady. Always standing up when you come into the room and opening the car door for you and all that.'

  Tressy looked at her cousin in fascination as she came to a breathless stop; she didn't think she'd ever heard Nora talk so enthusiastically about anything before, certainly not about a boy, although she'd had the usual schoolgirl crushes in the past. 'He sounds fantastic. But you haven't told me his name or how old he is.'

  'His name is Crispin, Crispin Fox. And he's thirty-two.'

  'Crispin? What kind of a name is that?' Tressy laughed derisively.

  'It's an old family name,' Nora said defensively, adding, 'And anyway, you shouldn't laugh at other people's, with a name like Tressilian.'

  Mentally, Tressy once again cursed her parents for bestowing that name on her. 'No, you're right,' she admitted. 'Perhaps he hates his name, too. Do you call him Cris?'

  Nora shook her head. 'He isn't the type who has a nickname.'

  Tressy looked at her speculatively; even allowing for Nora's natural over-enthusiasm, the man sounded quite a catch. 'You're not engaged to him?'

  Nora flushed. 'No, not yet.'

  'But you must know him quite well if you've arranged to go on holiday together.'

  Again Nora blushed. 'Well, we're not actually going together. He has a motor yacht that he keeps at Monte Carlo, but we're taking a villa at Cap Martin, just outside Monte Carlo.'

  'But you've arranged to meet him there?' Tressy persisted when the other girl seemed reluctant to go on.

  'Wel1-er-the fact is ... Mummy did say that we would be there at the same time as him, and he said he'd look us up and take us all for a trip on his boat,' Nora finished lamely.

  Tressy stared at her. 'Just how many times have you met him?'

  'I told you: he came to dinner and then he came to stay.' 'And how many times has he taken you out exactly?' 'He took me out to dinner the second night he was staying here,' Nora said defensively. 'To the best restaurant in Manchester.'

  'Just you-or did your parents go, too?' Tressy asked shrewdly, her eyes on her cousin's face.

  'Well, as a matter of fact ... '

  'It was all of you, wasn't it? And on the basis of that you're following him to the south of France? You and Aunt Grace, and probably Uncle Jack as well, are deliberately setting out to chase him! My God, Nora! That's what all these new clothes are for, isn't it? Well? Isn't it?'

  Nora got huffily to her feet. 'So what if it is?

  Mummy told me I wasn't to tell you about him, but I thought you'd understand. It isn't my fault I haven't seen much of him; he works and lives down in London. I did phone and invite him up when it was my birthday party, but he couldn't make it because he had to go to America on business. So how else am I to see him again unless we take him up on his offer to meet him in France?'

  'No way, I suppose,' Tressy admitted, looking up at her. 'You've really fallen for this man, haven't you?' 'So what?'

  'So don't look at me like that. I'm on your side. If you've really fallen
for this Crispin Fox, and marriage is what you want, then I'll help you all I can.' And Tressy meant it; in some ways she felt sorry for Nora, it couldn't always be fun being the only child of rich and socially ambitious parents. They were always pushing her on to be everything they weren't; to speak without a Lancashire accent, to join all the up market clubs and societies, to mix with the right people and never put a foot wrong. The sort of life that would make Tressy rebel within a month. But to Nora's credit, she always tried her best to please her parents and seemed contented enough, but until now, she had always lacked any spark of vitality and had been plain dull. Today, though, she seemed more alive than Tressy had ever known her, and if meeting this Crispin Fox did that for her, then Tressy was all for fostering the romance. And it also gave her a lever in dealing with Uncle Jack.

  As his wife had prophesied, he didn't come home until just in time for dinner, when all the packing was more or less done. He, too, was a big man-he'd have to be to dwarf Aunt Grace-and he liked to think that he was the master in his own home, which his wife and daughter let him believe until they wanted something. After dinner he announced that he had a few last minute letters to catch up on and retired to his study. Aunt Grace frowned at him impatiently but didn't try to stop him; everything was done anyway. Ten minutes later, Tressy followed him there, giving a peremptory rap on the door and then walking straight in. She caught him with his feet up on his desk, a pipe of tobacco just beginning to draw in his mouth and not a letter in sight.