by Lucy Gillen
‘Louise—’
‘Look, Stephen,’ she interrupted him without pause, ‘Jonathan Darrell is here as a guest, as you are. I don’t profess to like him, but he is a guest and I have certain obligations in the circumstances.’ That, she thought wryly, would definitely have raised that maddening laugh. ‘I don’t see why you should have a monopoly on my time, although you seem to think you should.’
‘Not a monopoly,’ he denied, ‘but I’d like to spend more time with you, you know that.’
She was not being quite fair to him, she supposed, and sighed as she sat down in one of the armchairs. ‘I know, Stephen, but it just isn’t possible during the upheaval we’ve had lately, you must realise that. Most of them will have gone tomorrow and then I’ll have more time to breathe.’
‘Them’ included him, she realised too late when she saw his face. ‘I suppose you will be glad to get the house to yourselves again,’ he admitted. ‘You’ve worked very hard, Louise, and we’ve all had a marvellous time.’
‘I hope so,’ she smiled. ‘No one’s been too miserable, have they?’
‘No one at all,’ he assured her, and lifted her fingers to his lips. ‘I’ll have to go back tomorrow too,’ he reminded her, ‘and I’d love it if you’d come back with me for a while, Louise. Stay with us in Broadarren, it would do you good to get away from here for a time.’
It would also get her away from Jonathan Darrell, she thought, and that was probably his main consideration, although the controversial visitor was not behind her own refusal, only the lack of courage to face life in a town again before she was ready for it. And in such close proximity with Stephen, he would expect it to have only one outcome and that in his favour, something else she was just as uncertain of.
‘I—I can’t, Stephen.’ It sounded lame, as she knew it would, and she saw his frown with a sinking heart.
‘You can’t?’ He looked at her for a moment, then shrugged angrily. ‘I needn’t ask why,’ he added, and released her hands suddenly as if he could no longer bear contact with her.
‘Oh, why will you always make such a mountain out of a molehill?’ she asked despairingly. ‘I’m just not ready for long stays in town yet, Stephen, that’s all. I can’t face it. I know I’m a coward, but I’ve been here for four and a half years now and it will be quite a wrench to leave. Give me time, please.’
If she expected understanding, she was to be disappointed. He wore a sulky look that detracted from his boyishness and made him appear almost ugly.
‘Oh yes, of course,’ he said, heavily sarcastic, ‘Darrell’s staying on, isn’t he? And he has the advantage of being popular with your son, something I’ve not yet managed to achieve, although heaven knows I’ve tried hard enough.’
‘Stephen—’
‘It’s true,’ he stormed, cutting her short. ‘If I got on with Robert there’d be no problem at all, but Robert refuses to like me and there’s nothing I can do to change his mind, but I can scarcely be blamed for that, can I?’
‘Yes, you can!’ she said, her voice half choked in her throat with the eternal futility of the argument over Robert. For the first time she really could see the reason for the barrier between her son and Stephen, and it was not Robert’s doing only, it was plain now as it had never been before.
‘It’s because you resent him,’ she told him, certainty lending an edge to her voice. ‘That’s why he doesn’t take to you. I know he’s more difficult than most children to make friends with, but children sense that sort of resentment; he knows how you feel and he shows it. You resent him because he’s not only my son but Simon’s too—you always have, only I never realised it until now.’
She could no longer see him clearly for the tears that could partly be blamed on over-tiredness, but she could see quite clearly at long last that Stephen resented Robert for his father’s sake, as much now as he had nearly five years ago.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT was just after he had given Robert his now customary pick-a-back upstairs to bed that Jonathan raised the question of his staying on, and it was the first time the subject had been mentioned between them since his initial, rather sarcastic, request for her approval of the idea.
Depositing his giggling jockey, he turned to Louise, his expression suddenly more sober, although he sounded light enough. ‘Won’t you be glad to get back to your normal, quiet routine?’ he asked, as Robert disappeared into his room, and Louise nodded, uncertain what lay behind the question.
‘I shall,’ she admitted, ‘but we shan’t be back to normal routine for a while yet, shall we?’
He smiled admission. ‘Not until you’ve got rid of me,’ he agreed. ‘You’re not having second thoughts, are you?’
‘No, no, of course not. You’re Great-gran’s guest anyway, it’s not my place to have second thoughts. Robert will miss you terribly when you do go,’ she added hastily to forestall a protest.
‘Robert?’ He arched a dark brow into the thick hair that fell across his forehead from his rough-and-tumble with Robert. ‘Not you?’
She refused to be drawn into making the admission personal as he sought to do. ‘One feels strange when there’s been such a houseful,’ she admitted evasively. ‘I was only thinking that Robert will have to get used to coming up to bed on his own two feet again when—when you’re gone.’
‘But you don’t mind our rather rowdy antics every night until I do?’
‘No, of course not.’ She looked in at the bright rosy face of her son as he bounced experimentally on his bed. It would, she had to admit, make Robert’s bedtime much more of an ordeal when she had to cope with him alone again. He had become so used to romping every night that the quiet, docile little boy she had reared seemed to have gone for ever. ‘I’m grateful to you for giving so much time to him,’ she added.
‘You’ll have to train Stephen,’ he suggested, quietly so that Robert would not hear, and Louise flushed, the familiar resentment rearing its head again.
‘You have—’
‘I know,’ he interrupted, impatiently she thought, ‘I have no right to interfere in matters that don’t concern me.’
‘Well, you haven’t,’ she retorted, her eyes sparkling angrily. ‘It’s nothing to do with you whether Stephen and I—well, whatever we do isn’t your affair.’
‘All right, all right!’ He held up both hands, defensively. ‘Don’t bite my head off, I surrender. Put it down to professional training, I just can’t help poking my nose into other people’s business, but you don’t have to flay me alive every time I forget myself.’
She was, she supposed, rather inclined to be oversensitive about his manner, but she told herself she was entitled to be; after all, he was a reporter of sorts, and she had no reason to like them over-much even after all this time.
She sighed and shook her head. ‘I’m—I’m sorry if I do, I didn’t realise I was that bad, but if I am I can only apologise.’ It was scarcely a fully-fledged apology, but she reasoned he would not expect her to be too humble about it.
‘You’re forgiven,’ he told her, rather too magnanimously, but with a warmth in his eyes that made her hastily lower her own. ‘I’ll try not to be too much of a burden while I’m here,’ he added, and she glanced at Robert.
‘I hope you can stand the pace,’ she told him, trying to sound more friendly, since she had been reproached for her lack of it. ‘You’ll probably need another holiday to recover when Robert’s finished with you.’
‘Oh, I’ll survive,’ he told her blandly, ‘but will you?’
Before it was time for the boat to leave next morning, Stephen suggested a walk down the hill and back, a suggestion to which Louise consented rather dubiously, suspecting his reasons. He had made no secret of the fact that he resented the idea of Jonathan staying on when he must go back, and she had no doubt that he extended the invitation partly with the intention of annoying the other man. Which was ridiculous, Louise thought, and rather childish.
The wind was bitterl
y north-east as they walked down the incline from Gray, and Louise shivered despite the thick coat she wore. Stephen looked even colder than she did and hunched his shoulders as he walked, head down, silent at first so that she was uncertain whether his attitude was due to his mood or to the cold.
‘You know why I asked you to come?’ he asked, at last, and she hesitated before answering.
‘I’m not sure I do,’ she said, ‘unless you just wanted to get out of the house for a while.’
‘Away from Darrell for a while,’ he corrected her, and she sighed inwardly at the inevitability of it.
‘Oh, Stephen, please! You let his being here bother you too much.’ She looked at the strong face, oddly like Jonathan’s except for the blue eyes and the surly expression.
‘I don’t trust him,’ he said shortly. ‘I just don’t like him, Louise. Why should he stay on here anyway? You said yourself he referred to the island as a wilderness right at the start, so it isn’t a liking for solitude that’s keeping him here.’
‘He’s staying because Great-gran asked him to stay,’ Louise explained as patiently as she was able. ‘You know she likes having him here and you know why. Surely you don’t grudge her this one small flight of fancy at her age, do you? She sees her Robert in him and she hates to think of him going away—it’s natural enough in the circumstances, she’s a very old lady.’
‘She’s also a very rich one,’ Stephen reminded her tartly, ‘and those looks are heaven-sent for a—an opportunist like Darrell.’
Louise shook her head, hating to hear it out in the open at last. ‘That’s a pretty serious thing to say,’ she told him, stopping to face him, ‘and he’s rich enough in his own right, Stephen, he doesn’t have to—to do what you’re implying. I wish you hadn’t said that, it’s unworthy of you.’
His eyes had a hard blue gleam that betrayed his anger and surprise at her lack of support. ‘You’d know, of course,’ he allowed, heavily sarcastic.
‘Essie told me,’ she told him quietly, ‘and she would know, I think.’
‘Oh—I see.’ He was obviously disappointed that his suspicions were groundless.
‘You should really be more sure of your facts before you start making accusations like that,’ she reproached him, making matters worse, she realised too late.
‘If I’m wrong I’m sorry,’ he said grudgingly, and she shook her head.
‘You don’t have to apologise to me,’ she told him, ‘it’s not me you’ve been slandering.’
She looked for a moment at the dark, stubborn expression he wore, then turned and continued on down the hill, the wind cold and stinging on her hot cheeks. He stood for a moment or two looking after her, before hurrying to catch her up, taking her arm.
‘Louise, I’m sorry, please don’t let’s spoil my last day here.’
She did not answer for a moment, then she turned her head and smiled. ‘All right, Stephen, I’m sorry. I didn’t intend spoiling it, you’re the one who was so grouchy.’
He sighed and leaned his face closer to hers as they ‘walked. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I wish I could have spent more time with you alone. I haven’t had an opportunity to say half the things I wanted to.’
She sought to evade the subject she least wanted raised at the moment, but supposed it was inevitable. ‘Considering we’ve quarrelled each time we have been alone,’ she said wryly, ‘it’s just as well we haven’t had many opportunities.’
‘Louise.’ He halted her again and turned her to him, his hands on her shoulders, his eyes searching her face a little anxiously, but still determined not to be blamed. ‘If we’ve quarrelled it hasn’t always been my fault, you know how I feel about you. I know you have Robert to consider, but you also have a right to a life of your own. Will you marry me? The whole family want it, you know, but most especially me, will you?’
She shook her head, reluctant to hurt him, but finding the right words so difficult to come by. ‘I—I can’t, Stephen, I honestly can’t.’
‘Because of Robert!’ He dropped his hands and his face was as black as thunder as he stood looking at her in exasperation. ‘Why, Louise? It isn’t as if I’m a monster, I’m fond enough of the boy, but he just doesn’t like me and while he’s—he’s buried on this island he never has the chance to see much of me, does he? All right, I know,’ he added, ‘you say I resent him because of his father—well, I won’t deny it, perhaps I do, but if I do it’s quite unconscious. I’ve always been more than half in love with you, you know, and I lost you once to Dupont, I’d hate to lose you again.’
‘Stephen!’ She sought for words desperately. ‘I’m sorry, I really am sorry, but so much has been happening lately, I can’t think straight, please don’t judge me too harshly. You haven’t really lost me to anyone and I’m not teasing you or leading you on, as they say, it’s just that—’
‘All right, darling.’ He hugged her suddenly, holding her tight. ‘I’ll be patient a bit longer. You’ve had rather a lot on your plate recently with one thing and another, I realise that, but don’t be surprised to find me on your doorstep any time of the day. I intend to keep up a barrage no one can resist.’ He raised her face to him with one hand and kissed her. Not the light, only half-serious salute he had given her until now, but a long, hard and slightly impatient kiss that left her breathless and rather surprised. ‘Just so that you don’t forget me,’ he told her in a whisper against her ear.
She saw him off later that morning, with the rest of the family visitors, and breathed a sigh of genuine relief as she watched the little steamer out of sight behind the green-hilled isolation of the islands. It was a pity, she thought, that Stephen lived so inconveniently near, and a moment later she shook her head over the disloyalty of it as she walked slowly back to Gray.
By midday it was snowing again, though not very heavily, and only Louise viewed the prospect unfavourably it seemed, wondering how long it would last.
‘We’ll very likely be stranded again,’ Emma Kincaid told Jonathan at lunch, and she sounded as if the idea pleased her immensely.
He looked across the table at Louise, brows raised seeking her reaction. ‘Not for too long, I hope, or Louise will find me too much of a nuisance, under her feet all day.’
The old lady laughed the idea to scorn. ‘Of course she won’t,’ she denied before Louise could answer for herself. ‘She can cope, don’t you worry.’
As it happened the snow lasted only a short time and then there was nothing for it but to comply with Robert’s demands that they should go out for a walk. It was at Robert’s instigation too that Jonathan accompanied them, although Louise showed no great enthusiasm for the idea.
He never wore anything on his head, and the white collar of his sweater made his face look even darker than usual and gave him a look of almost primitive ruggedness that Louise found rather disturbing.
She pulled a white fur hat on over her red hair and absently noted the fact that it suited her, her eyes taking in the slight frown that creased her forehead and which she determinedly banished.
Perhaps both Stephen and Jonathan had been right about her needing a change of environment, although the idea of them being in agreement about anything made her smile ironically.
The short winter afternoon was already closing in, although there was still a couple of hours yet until it would be dark and it was good to escape the confines of the house for a while. A feeling which, she realised with a start, was new to her; she had never before been anxious to get away from the old house or its occupants.
Robert appeared to have boundless energy and shrilled his delight against the icy wind, seeking her company far less than he would once have done, but content to enjoy more boisterous exchanges with Jonathan.
He pouted disappointment when Louise decreed a return to the house, startling her with his likeness to his father in his reproach. He pulled off the woolly hat he had been wearing and flung it into the air as he ran back up the incline, obviously intending to lose it if he could.
‘No, you don’t, my lad!’ Jonathan told him with a laugh, and rescued the hat from a drift, shaking it dry before clamping it firmly back on Robert’s head. ‘You’ve been looking for an excuse to lose that hat ever since we came out.’
‘But you—’ Robert started to protest, and was silenced by a raised eyebrow.
‘I’m old enough to please myself,’ he was told. ‘You still do as your mother tells you to, O.K.?’
For a moment it looked as if Robert might argue, but the prospect obviously looked daunting, so he merely shouted an amiable, ‘O.K.’ over one shoulder and ran off again, while Louise gazed after him, silently wondering at the authority exercised over her son. Surprised too at her own quiet acceptance of it.
‘He’s getting to an age when he needs a man’s hand,’ Jonathan told her quietly, almost as if he read her thoughts. ‘You’ll have to put Stephen out of his misery and marry him.’
The colour that flushed her cheeks was purely anger and she thanked heaven that Robert was running ahead. ‘I wish you’d mind your own business,’ she told him with what she hoped was crushing dignity, ‘and stop trying to organise my life for me.’
‘Nothing was further from my mind,’ he vowed, and she knew without looking at him that he was laughing at her.
‘You have no right to—to say anything about what I should do or not do,’ she went on, determined to ruffle that infuriating calm if she could. ‘I know you make the excuse that your profession automatically makes you inquisitive, but you have no right to keep telling me what to do.’
‘No right at all,’ he agreed blandly.
‘Then don’t!’ She heard his laugh with both annoyance and frustration and glared at him angrily.