'You know I'll always love your wife, Max. Tell me, Rosa, weren't your family dismayed at your travelling so far from home?'
'My parents are dead, and my sister is married. She's an actress. My brother came with us. He – ' she hesitated. How much would Max's mother understand?
'Jack's ill, Uncle Barnabus is treating him in his hospital,' Max said, coming to her rescue.
'In that – I mean his hospital? Max, what's wrong with him? Does it run in the family?'
'It's a form of shell shock,' Max reassured her. 'Jack was in the trenches in France. Don't worry, your grandchildren won't inherit it.'
Mrs Higham flushed faintly. 'Max! I never for a moment thought – '
'Yes you did. You're not a good liar, Ma,' he added fondly. 'You know Uncle Barnabus has treated lots of men with similar problems, and he says Jack isn't by any means a bad case, so he hopes to have him cured very soon. Then he can start a business and Rosa will have some family here apart from mine.'
Mrs Higham set herself out to be hospitable, and Max's father was equally kind when he returned later in the afternoon.
'You must take Rosa riding tomorrow, visit some of the neighbours, show off your lovely bride,' he said that night when they were sitting on the verandah watching the stars.
'How is everyone?'
'Jenny is engaged to that silly young boy,' his mother said, and Rosa, wondering if she was being unduly sensitive, thought she detected a note of regret in her voice. 'Her parents were not happy, of course. He's so young,' she added hurriedly. 'They won't agree to a wedding for some time yet. You'll go and see them tomorrow?'
'Of course.'
They met Jenny on the following day. Max and Rosa had ridden over early in the morning, and she was in the garden, cutting roses. As she heard the horses she looked up, and dropping her basket came running towards them, hesitating when she saw that Max's companion was a stranger. Max dismounted and turned to help Rosa down, then caught Jenny in his arms and swung her round.
'Jenny, how are you? All well?'
She was delicately pretty, fair-haired and with a heart-shaped face. There were shadows under her eyes, though, and in repose a discontented droop to her lips. At Max's question her smile faltered and she shrugged petulantly. Rosa was reminded of Celia in one of her fretful moods.
'I suppose so. I didn't know you were coming home.'
'I came to bring my wife. Jenny, this is Rosa.'
She smiled and shyly held out her hand, but she looked pale. Rosa wondered if the news had surprised her, but Jenny seemed composed, and suggested they had some lemonade on the verandah. 'My parents went out. They won't be back until this afternoon, I'm afraid, but they'll be disappointed to miss you,' she said, smiling at Rosa.
'How's Dale?' Max asked when they were seated with glasses of cool lemonade.
Jenny sighed. 'He's fine, but they won't let us get married yet. His parents as well as mine say he's too young. They keep sending him away on silly excuses. I think they're hoping I'll forget him. At least they can't go on hoping I'll marry Max now, thank goodness,' she added, grinning at Rosa and then looking abashed as she realised what she'd said.
She didn't appear in any way jealous or resentful, and Rosa breathed an inward sigh of relief. She had, despite Max's reassurances, felt a little guilty about his broken engagement. Now she saw them together she accepted the truth. To Jenny Max was more of a big brother or young uncle than a potential husband. They were easy together, friendly, but showed no warmer feelings. Fleetingly Rosa wondered how Jenny would have responded to Max's lovemaking. and blushed in confusion. Fortunately Max was busy asking after his friends, and neither of them noticed her discomfort. Soon Max pulled out his watch and declared they must leave if they were to pay the other visits his mother had decreed essential for that morning.
'She's concealing her chagrin at not being able to organise our wedding, but she's determined to direct us while we're here,' he said with a wry grin and Jenny, looking happier than when they'd arrived, gave a peal of laughter.
'Poor Mrs Higham. Give her my love, Max, and say I'll come and visit in a few days. While Dale's away I've nothing else to do. We don't even have any rehearsals yet, though we are planning a Shakespeare play to raise money for the Theatre Rebuilding Fund. Even then I'll be bored, they're doing Timon of Athens just because it was this year's Birthday play, and the only part for me is a gentlewoman. I'd like to do Much Ado About Nothing, Beatrice is a lovely part.'
Max laughed. 'Poor Jenny, no starring part. Perhaps you'll be busy planning your wedding,' he suggested, and Jenny's shoulders drooped. He picked up her hand and held it comfortingly. 'Even if it seems a long way away, you can still make plans,' he said softly, and Jenny forced herself to smile.
'I suppose so. But I'm very happy for you, Max. And for you, Rosa. Do come and visit again while you're here.'
*
The solicitor leaned over his desk. 'You are offering a derisory price, Mr Watson.'
'I'm offering what the market value is,' the burly, red-faced man opposite him said brusquely.
Mr Brinkley sighed. He much preferred dealing with gentlemen who shaved properly and clipped the unsightly hair which might unfortunately grow out of their ears and nostrils. 'It has been valued at almost twice the figure you are offering.'
'Who by? Not someone what knows the business, that's for sure. There ain't room for too many carriers, and less still fer 'oss carts. Besides, since old man Greenwood died the business 'as gone ter ruin. Rack and ruin.'
'Miss Rosa was improving the situation, once she took charge.'
'And where is she now? Run off wi' 'er daft brother, so I 'eard. An' t'other gal's flauntin' 'er legs on stage. You ain't 'ad no more offers fer nigh on three months, 'ave yer?'
'I have had enquiries, some of which have been very keen ones,' Mr Brinkley said stiffly.
'Well, I don't like ter seem mean,' Mr Watson declared mendaciously. 'I'll up me offer by two 'undred. But yer'll 'ave ter decide be end o' week, or it's off. I've got me eye on another tidy little business. That'd be more sense, that would, bigger profits, but I feels sorry fer old Greenwood, wouldn't like ter think I was profiting by 'is misfortune.'
The solicitor blinked. 'I'll let you know by the end of the week,' he promised. 'And now, Mr Watson, if you'll excuse me – '
'You're a busy man,' his visitor interrupted, struggling to his feet. 'No time ter chat wi' likes o' me.'
'Not at all, it's simply that I have another appointment.'
'Well, let me know be Friday.'
'I will,' Mr Brinkley replied, sighing inwardly. He knew he would accept the offer, though low, for it was the only one he'd received, and with no one to run the business the prospects of bettering it were bleak. He glanced down at Mrs Meadows' latest letter, the third in a fortnight, demanding to know why he had made no progress and threatening to go elsewhere if he did not sell the business soon. The hussy, he thought bitterly. He'd known there was something fishy about her marriage. Her father would be turning in his grave if he knew what his children had come to. It was the best he could do, and if she was in such a hurry she would have to accept it. He'd be glad to be rid of the whole affair.
*
Rosa was relieved to be going back to New York, hot and humid though it was in August. Max's parents had made her welcome, but she thought she detected an air of reserve, almost disappointment, with her. Of course, she tried to tell herself, it was natural they should want him to marry one of their own, an American, a girl whose family they knew. Any parents had a right to be wary of someone coming from thousands of miles away, especially when the wedding had been conducted in haste and secrecy. They would blame her, not Max. Even Max's ardour had seemed muted, but she decided that was probably because they could not make quite such uninhibited love in his parents' house as they did elsewhere.
When they broke their journey at Washington, where they planned to visit Jack on the following day, Rosa's theory seemed justifie
d. They had scarcely shut the door of their hotel room before Max gave a huge sigh of relief and crushed her to him.
'Thank goodness! Now I can have you to myself again. I didn't feel you were mine in Woodstock.' He began to unbutton her dress. 'There were too many other people around.'
'There's a hotel full of guests here,' Rosa pointed out, wriggling to assist him remove the confining garments.
'There's only you, my darling, precious wife.'
An hour later they descended decorously to the restaurant to have dinner, and Rosa giggled as she looked round at the other diners.
'I wonder how many of them were doing the same as we were?' she pondered.
Max grinned, and under cover of the tablecloth began to stroke her thigh. 'These ancient senators and congressmen?' he scoffed. 'I can't see it. Most of them wouldn't be capable of the sort of gymnastics we enjoy.'
'Max, will we grow too old one day?' Rosa teased, her cheeks flushed as his wandering hand sent waves of desire through her.
'I'll never stop loving you. But just in case my physical capacity does diminish, let's make the most of our youth. Do you really want dinner?'
Rosa chuckled and firmly removed his hand. 'Yes. I need to keep up my strength. We've all night for other things.'
'And morning. We don't have to be at the hospital until lunchtime.'
Jack was waiting for them on the porch. He smiled and ran down to meet them, clasping Rosa to him in a strong hug and shaking Max's hand vigorously.
'Jack, you look so much better,' Rosa exclaimed. 'You have a tan, and you've put on weight.'
'I feel better than I've done for years. And it's you I have to thank, Max. You and your uncle. He's the first person who's seemed to understand how I've been feeling. You know, I still can't recall some of the things you say I did, back home, but he says that's natural. I'm bound to push them to the back of my mind, because they weren't the real me. But come in, we're having lunch in a private room, just us and Dr Higham.'
Chattering eagerly he led the way in, and Rosa, overcome with relief, clutched hard at Max's hand.
'He's better!' she breathed softly as they followed Jack. 'Oh, Max, he's so much better.'
'It's encouraging, but it can be a long time yet,' Max warned. 'He may have relapses.'
'I don't care. He'll get well in the end.'
When Jack said goodbye two hours later Rosa was convinced he was totally cured. 'He hasn't been as cheerful or lively since before he went into the army,' she insisted when Dr Higham ushered them into a small room, saying he had to speak privately with them.
'He's much better, but far from cured. However, if he shows no signs of any relapse we can soon let him come to visit you for a short while, a weekend first, and then if there are no ill effects, for slightly longer. You would have to keep a close but unobtrusive watch on him. Could you manage this?'
'Of course,' Rosa assured him. 'You've done marvels, and I'm so grateful.'
'It may take several months more, but I'm confident we shall succeed in the end. It's important not to be too impatient, though, young lady. Slow but sure. You must tell your brother that too, for while at the moment he's happy he may become impatient, the life here will become restrictive when he feels normal again. You understand?'
Rosa nodded, too happy to worry about future problems. It was enough to know that Jack was on the way to recovering from the devils which had tormented him since his ordeal in the Flanders mud.
*
'I thought you could do all this without me,' Celia said fretfully. 'It was very inconvenient having to come to Stratford. I had to take a day off, and in the theatre that's very difficult.'
The solicitor sighed. 'You have to sign these final papers before the sale can be completed.'
'Could you really not have obtained a better price?'
'I have explained, Mrs Meadows, this was the only offer and you were in a hurry to complete the sale.'
'Isn't Mr Watson the carrier from Henley?'
'He does have a carrier business which he runs from there, yes. Now, the money, how do you want it transferred? What am I to do about the shares due to your sister and brother?'
Celia fished in her handbag for a slip of paper. 'Rosa sent me the details of a New York bank. Can you arrange to transfer both shares there, into this account? Jack's in hospital,' she explained.
'This is an account for a Mrs Higham.'
'Yes. Rosa is married. She went to America with that architect who's been here so much.'
'I remember him. So that's how she was able to leave so swiftly when the last trouble occurred.'
Celia nodded. 'If that's all, I must go. Since I have to be here I wish to visit a few of my old friends.'
Outside she made her way along the High Street and towards the tearooms in Bridge Street where she had arranged to meet Agnes. She looked about her, wondering if she might see any other of her friends, and smiled suddenly. Adam Thorn was walking towards her. She waved to attract his attention.
'Adam. How nice to see you. Why don't you join us, Agnes and me, that is, for a cup of tea? I was just on my way there and I'm late, so I can't stop to chat with you.'
Adam smiled and fell into step beside her. 'You look as pretty as ever. What are you doing now? And is Gilbert with you?'
'I have a part in a new play, it's in Manchester this week. Gilbert stayed in the other one when it toured Scotland.'
'So you have to be separated? What a shame.'
Celia shrugged. 'One of the hazards of my profession,' she said airily. 'We can't always expect to be cast in the same play, and this was a marvellous opportunity. I'll be in London again soon. Here we are. Oh good, Agnes has a table by the window.'
When they were seated and the tea had been served, Celia glanced at Adam from under lowered eyelashes.
'Jack's in hospital, in America,' she said suddenly. 'Have you given up trying to sue him for damaging your stables?'
'America! So that's where he vanished to. Hospital?'
'For treatment. Max Higham's uncle is a doctor who specialises in that sort of illness, shell shock, you know.'
Adam looked startled and Celia smiled inwardly. 'What has Higham got to do with it?' he asked abruptly.
'Max and Rosa are married,' she said sweetly. 'They married in America, a few months ago. I'm surprised you didn't know.'
Agnes excitedly demanded details, and Celia laughingly denied having any but the barest facts. 'Though it was perfectly obvious they were smitten, wasn't it Adam?'
Adam looked at her. 'Was it? I think she was dazzled by the glamour of America. We see so much of it in the movies, and Rosa was too deeply involved in all sorts of make-believe to know what was real. Excuse me, ladies, I have to go, I've an appointment.'
Celia watched him go, and then turned to Agnes with lifted eyebrows. 'Well?'
'Well what? What do you mean, Celia?'
'Now Rosa is out of reach, you have a chance with Adam. Catch him on the rebound.'
Agnes shook her head. 'He'd never look at me. He always wanted Rosa.'
'Don't be defeatist. There are ways.' She drew her chair closer to Agnes. 'Listen, he may think he's still in love with Rosa, but he's a man, Agnes. He won't be able to stay faithful to her. It's up to you to be in the right place when that happens. Do you understand?'
'How can I? I hardly ever see him, and I don't understand what you mean. And why can't he stay faithful to her? Romeo did to Juliet.'
Celia laughed. 'Romeo was a boy, he hadn't discovered a man's physical needs, which are there even when his favourite woman isn't. Let's make plans. I have some ideas already. If you do this properly, Agnes, you could be Mrs Thorn before Christmas.'
***
Chapter 13
In early November Max was asked to go to the west coast to draw up plans for cinemas there. 'The movie industry is getting so big with the new sound pictures, every small town, every suburb, wants a cinema. We'll be going in January, getting away from the cold in
New York. Meanwhile Ma wants us to go to Woodstock for a family Thanksgiving celebration.'
'I'd like that, a real American Thanksgiving,' Rosa said cheerfully. She wasn't sure she wished to face Max's family again so soon, but she wouldn't for worlds let him know she felt slightly uncomfortable with them. His mother had been polite, welcoming, but in an odd way rather reserved, and Rosa had the distinct impression it was more than just disappointment they'd not invited his family to their wedding.
That impression was reinforced when they arrived in Woodstock on the day before Thanksgiving. It was the excessive politeness, Rosa decided. She wasn't made to feel part of the family as Max's sister-in-law Emily, the wife of his next brother, was. Instead of being directed to do this or fetch that she was pressed to remain seated beside the big open log-burning fire, listening to Max and his father and brothers talking about the election of President Hoover, and whether, now someone was producing commercial television receivers, this new invention would ever be as popular as the wireless. Then, as if recalling Rosa's presence, Max's father asked her if she would try to see any of her old friends while the Shakespeare Company was touring America.
She tried to persuade herself it was because they didn't know her so well, they might be wary of her because she was English, not that Mrs Higham resented her supplanting Jenny.
The Thanksgiving dinner was a huge family occasion, with turkey and cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie. That night she and Max made love especially tenderly, and Rosa tried to forget Emily's questions about whether she was going to provide them with another niece or nephew soon. She was secretly astonished, given the frequency of their lovemaking, that she wasn't yet pregnant, but rather selfishly pleased to have Max to herself for a while longer.
On the following day his father said he needed to consult Max on some family business, and Rosa, feeling lethargic after the heavy meal the previous day, said she'd like to walk in the nearby woods and get some exercise.
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