‘Good girl,’ he said and winked before returning to building up the fire.
‘Wash your face,’ she said, winking back.
The floors didn’t look quite so strange by the time they had spent the rest of the evening there, familiarity gradually bringing acceptance. But the stairs sounded odd, creaky and hollow, as they walked up them to bed. She deliberately did not ask him if he had bolted the doors and he didn’t mention it either.
Before they slept, they talked not about the water of the night before, but about Gethyn and the problem of his accommodation.
‘What will the poor guy do?’ Larry asked. ‘I can’t comment, I don’t know the situation here. If the landlord is giving him the runaround, can’t he buy the place and make himself secure?’
‘I’ve no idea how much money his mother left, but I doubt it was enough to buy a house.’
‘You know him well enough, ask him. If he could buy it, then he might be able to make a bit of cash for himself by letting a room or two to students, like Huw and Richard. They’d know someone reasonable to recommend.’
‘I’ll ask, if I can word it so it doesn’t look as if I’m being nosy,’ she said. ‘But if he can’t buy it, what then? I think he’ll curl up and retreat from life altogether if he had to live in one small bed-sitter, and anyway there’s no one around here who rents rooms so far as I know.’
‘Ask Mrs-the-shop,’ he suggested. ‘Or Mrs Priestley. I guess she’ll know what’s available!’
‘I’ll make enquiries at the Citizen’s Advice Bureau tomorrow.’
‘I thought that was Mrs Priestley!’
* * *
The night passed peacefully and although she did not expect to, Rosemary slept for most of it. Larry planned to go into Aberystwyth but promised to be home in time to have the fire burning and a meal cooking as it was a night on which she had to work late.
‘Then,’ she told him, ‘I have two days off.’
‘Make it three and let’s go to London,’ he suggested.
* * *
He took her to an exclusive hotel which advertised itself as ‘The Best Kept Secret In London’. The Montcalm was an impeccably cared for house in a beautiful Georgian crescent only a few minutes’ walk from Marble Arch.
Their twin-bedded room was spacious and attractively decorated. In soft shades of green and cream it was light and airy and everything spoke of a disregard for expense in the search for perfection. Nothing had been spared that might improve their comfort. The food, they learnt at dinner that evening, was a dream.
* * *
Twice, during their brief holiday he left her. Once he said he had to visit St. Catherine’s House for another item of information for his family tree, and again on the way home. They had left the train at Aberystwyth and he asked her to wait while he used the telephone. He didn’t explain his absence and she preferred not to ask, but when he returned from the phone his smile was wide and impossible for him to hide.
* * *
When they returned to the cottage, everything looked ordinary from the outside. The ruined carpet was still draped disconsolately over the grass, and the few spoilt items were cluttered together in a corner near the front door, ashamed of their appearance. When she opened the door Rosemary noticed a completely different smell from the one she had prepared herself to cope with. There was not the smell of dankness, of an abandoned house, only woodsmoke and the unmistakable odour of new carpets.
Sitting in the armchairs beside the blazing fire were Sally, Gethyn, Huw and Richard, and Mrs Priestley. A new carpet had been fitted and a white fluffy rug replaced the old one in front of the fire. A tray had been set with glasses and on the polished table, were plates of cakes and biscuits.
‘Welcome back to your home,’ they chorused.
‘But how did you arrange all this?’ she gasped. ‘Oh, thank you, all of you!’ She hugged them in turn, then squealed with joy as a familiar voice said, ‘Me too? Don’t I get a hug then?’
‘Megan, you’re home at last! Thank goodness!’ Rosemary felt tears of relief spilling as she greeted her friend. Seeing her made the surprise welcome just perfect. ‘Oh, Megan, there’s so much to tell you.’
‘I’m sure, love, but not now. I’ve heard most of it from Huw anyway. And today is a celebration of everything getting back to normal, so no gloom, eh?’
‘No gloom,’ Rosemary promised. ‘Oh what a relief to have you back home!’
‘Duw girl, anyone would think I’d been away for months, and you with so many friends you couldn’t have even missed me!’ Gethyn watched them as they came in, seeing the joy on Rosemary’s face and believing that he was at least partly the cause of it. She had kissed them all to show her appreciation, but her kiss for him had been different.
The new carpet had been Larry’s idea and he had given Huw a key and asked him to open the door for the fitters. Then Mrs Priestley had heard about the surprise and had suggested to Gethyn that they added to it by giving a small welcoming tea-party. Larry had been in full agreement and he arranged to telephone when they reached Aberystwyth so everything could be in readiness for their arrival.
In the first moment of surprise, Rosemary had the unkind thought that Sally had achieved her aim. She’d got her feet over the threshold and was sitting here in her living room, talking to her neighbours. And from what she could see, she and old Mrs Priestley were already firm friends. They sat close together obviously exchanging information about each other and Rosemary guessed that it would be Mrs Priestley who did the most talking. Sally would sop up, like a sponge, all she needed to know.
Then the moment had passed, Megan had appeared in the kitchen doorway and the slight misgivings were forgotten. The relief of having Megan back filled her with a glow.
Gethyn stood back from the rest, glad of the need to replenish plates and tea cups. Larry, of course, had gone straight to the kitchen to make coffee. He hadn’t developed a liking for tea. Well, let him. It was one more small reminder that he didn’t fit, that he was the interloper here.
He offered a plate of sandwiches to Richard but pulled up in surprise, it wasn’t Richard, but Larry. He hadn’t realised before how alike they were. Larry took a sandwich and looked coolly at him. Gethyn lowered his gaze, his intention of making Larry feel the interloper wasn’t working. Larry was making him feel like the hired hand!
But soon he would leave them to return to his own place and then, when all the mischief had stopped, Rosemary would return too – to him, Gethyn, where she truly belonged.
Rosemary came and took the plate from him and insisted he sat near the fire near the others.
‘Come and tell me how you and Huw arranged all this without me knowing,’ she said. She took his hand and smiled at him and he knew that whatever love she felt for the American, theirs was less fraught and more comfortable and would outlive the interloper’s brief sojourn in their midst.
11
A day later, Larry told Rosemary he had made plans to return home. Her face paled visibly. ‘For a week or ten days only,’ he added quickly. ‘I have a few things I must settle if I am to return and stay a while longer with you.’
Larry’s luggage was light. Many of his clothes he left hanging in the wardrobe. This fact alone gave Rosemary a slender hope of seeing him again. That, and his words of love at their parting.
To her surprise and delight, there was a letter when she reached work a few days later. It was an air-mail envelope and even seeing, after a cursory glance, that the writing was not Larry’s, didn’t make her doubt it was from him. But she was disappointed. It was from someone she had met at a party near the end of her visit to New York. The girl, Barbara, whom she only vaguely remembered, explained that she would be coming to England soon and would like them to meet. The reason the letter had gone to the library was that she had lost her address, remembering only the town, and knew that the library where she worked would find her. The final paragraph startled her so that Sally, who was hovering curiously n
earby, asked her if it was bad news.
‘In a way it is,’ Rosemary said, whitefaced. ‘She asks if I kept in touch with Larry Madison, who was so smitten with me and had asked so many questions about me.’
She ran to find Megan, handed the letter to her, then stared at her friend, confused by the revelation and trying to fit it in with Larry’s appearance in her life.
‘He was at that party! I wasn’t a stranger when we met in London! Apparently he asked lots of questions about me, pretended to be ‘smitten’, then,’ she gave an involuntary shiver, ‘then he followed me, all the way to London.’
‘Don’t be an idiot!’ Sally scorned, peering over Megan’s shoulder to read the note. ‘You aren’t that devastatingly gorgeous! She was mistaken, wasn’t she, Megan? She must have been. He couldn’t have got a ticket on a plane and arrived at the same hotel so quickly as all that. She must have muddled him with – She must have—’ She shrugged. Rosemary didn’t believe her attempted explanations and neither did she!
‘So, the falling books and the disobedient map, it was all arranged so he could meet me? But why?’
‘I don’t know, love.’ It was Megan’s turn to shrug. ‘And now he’s gone again and you’ll have to wait for him to come back before you can ask him!’
‘He’ll phone, won’t he? You can ask him then,’ Sally suggested.
‘He said he will, but d’you know, I’ve been so trusting. I don’t even have his home address. Larry Madison-Jones of New York! That’s hardly likely to find him, is it?’
* * *
She found a letter waiting for her when she reached home and this time it was from Larry. In it he explained that he had met Barbara and had heard about her letter.
‘I couldn’t explain this on the phone, darling,’ she read. ‘But I confess I did cheat a little. I saw you at that party and when I heard where you lived I couldn’t believe the coincidence. If I’d told you I had family in the area in which you lived would you have believed me? It would have seemed like the most obvious “come on” of the age! I genuinely had a flight booked for London, and all I did was change it for the day before you were due home, and book myself in at the hotel you conveniently told Barbara you’d be staying in. If you knew how long I sat in that damned foyer watching for you to appear!’
The letter went on about how wonderful it had been to find how much he adored her and how guilty he felt at deceiving her in the way he had. But the original thought, the chance of having a base among the local people in the area, who might then be more willing to assist him, had been simply too good to pass up. To find in her the wonderful friend and partner in love was a touch of heavenly magic.
He ended by telling her that there was still something else he hadn’t told her and he hoped once that was out of the way, there would be nothing between them except open friendship and love.
The letter did not comfort her very much. All he was saying was that he had deceived her to enable him to get a place to stay, in the area where he hoped to discover his family’s history. To get to know the local people and persuade them to talk was the whole reason for him being there.
She had been dull, unattractive, boring and ordinary and he had pretended an interest simply to use her. The love and friendship at the end was like a slap in the face, unexpectedly hurtful. Love and friendship were part of the same thing and a loving relationship between friends was perfection, but the way he had written it was not like that. It was the friendship that he seemed to emphasise, not the love. He loved his dog, whom he referred to as ‘the mutt’, and she felt that his love for her was no greater than that.
* * *
A few days later, having a free day, Megan, Sally and Rosemary went into Aberystwyth to do some shopping. The sea was dark, reflecting the low, grey clouds above and they shivered as they left the car and walked to the bottom of Constitution Hill.
‘Are you sure you want to walk up there today?’ Rosemary asked.
‘Haven’t done it for years. I can’t resist it.’
There were still flowers showing colour as they began the climb. Red and white valerian, scabious and a few late thrift. Dandelions startlingly cheerful among the mounds of bramble bushes, where opportunist children fed on the luscious berries.
They had to bend forward to avoid the worst gusts of wind as they were in danger of being spun off their feet, but they reached the top without mishap and sat looking down over the town. As they watched, the first few rainspots fell. The rain increased to a heavy downpour and they scuttled for shelter.
They waited a while, sheltering against the walls of the cafe, then decided to run for the car.
‘Soaked we are and there’s no sense in standing here. We might as well get wet running for shelter,’ Sally shouted, above the drumming and shushing of the heavy rain.
They hurried down the steep path, laughing at their stupidity at climbing ‘Consti’ when rain was so obviously imminent. Then, as they reached the beach again, the rain ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Around them everything shone as water flowed across the paved surfaces and rushed down the drains until it was gone, apart from a few drops lingering like bright jewels on the edges of leaves and grasses.
They could have been the only people in the world as they walked to the car. There were no people in sight and not even any traffic. Even the ubiquitous seagulls had disappeared, and no birds sang. Everyone and everything had hidden away from the rain-storm and was waiting, to be certain it was finished, before venturing out again.
It was a scene renewed. The silent, parked cars were gleaming and the steps of the hotels were washed clear of the dust and sand that had covered them. Everything was still, even the one yellow shirt that still hung out of the students’ accommodation window was wet, bedraggled and lifeless, sticking to the wall like spilt paint.
A car started up from a row parked near theirs and Rosemary’s heart gave a leap as she recognised the sound of the engine. A Citroen drove past them, the rainsmeared windows giving only partial view of the driver.
‘Rosemary!’ Sally gasped. ‘That was Larry!’
‘I thought so too,’ Megan said more quietly. She repeated the licence number and Rosemary nodded. She had seen him too.
‘He must know we saw him. Why didn’t he stop and explain?’ She stared after the car and then shook her head firmly, pretence aiding her disappointment and dismay. ‘No, it couldn’t have been Larry. He must have lent his car to someone. No, the more I think about it, the more certain I am. It wasn’t him. Not tall enough. Darker. Thicker set. No, definitely not Larry. What a shock though, wasn’t it?’ Gabbling to convince herself, she ignored the doubt that made Sally’s forehead furrow like a newly ploughed field and brought sad understanding to Megan’s kindly face.
* * *
Gethyn was standing outside the door when she returned home later that afternoon. She was wet and uncomfortable after being soaked and then wandering around the shops getting partially dry and she needed to go straight in and run a bath. She hurried towards him, hoping to give the impression she had no time to talk.
‘The American’s back then,’ he startled her by saying.
‘Oh, I – er—’
‘Saw him on the main road not an hour ago,’ Gethyn said. ‘Didn’t stop, mind, just drove through the village and on towards Machynlleth.’
‘Yes, I’ve just met him in Aber,’ she lied. ‘Gethyn, I have to go, I’m soaked and I need to change.’
‘I thought you’d have had enough water without walking about in the rain.’
She looked at him, wondering if it was an attempt to joke about the disaster of the flood, or whether he was serious. His face creased into a smile and she shared it and said, ‘Some people never learn, do they, Gethyn? We walked up Consti and got drenched.’
She added a few details and made light of the small adventure and hoped he wouldn’t mention again about Larry being home. What could she say? Wasn’t she expected to know what his plans were? He lived wit
h her for heaven’s sake! How foolish he was making her feel, coming back home and she not knowing!
She threw down her shopping and went straight upstairs to run a bath. After she had soaked in the warm, scented water for a while she relaxed. It seemed she had two choices. She could either tell him to go away and never come back; that way she would be free of his mysteries forever. But she would be saying goodbye to the one man she could imagine spending the rest of her life with. Or she could tell him she loved him deeply and wanted to share whatever it was he was involved in.
Either way she was taking the risk of losing him, but the second alternative was the one with at least a chance of working things out and staying together. Even knowing he had lied to her didn’t change the fact that she wanted that more than she’d wanted anything in her whole life.
12
Rosemary was uneasy as she doused the fire and went up to bed. The house seemed once more unfriendly, threatening.
Sleep wouldn’t come for a long time. She read for a while, closed her eyes then, after a few minutes of lying there listening for the slightest sound, she took up her book again.
The sound, when it came was so faint she thought, after the initial grip of panic, that she had imagined it. She didn’t move, she knew that if she opened her eyes the room would be quiet, empty, the glow from the lamp showing that all was well. But she couldn’t open them. Her heart was racing, she imagined that the bedclothes were moving in its frantic rhythm. Then she felt something alight on the bed. She sat up and screamed.
Whatever it had been was gone. A dream, she kept telling herself. It was a bad dream. Then the window curtain, that hung to floor length, moved as if someone were shaking it. She picked up the clock, a miserably small weapon but better than nothing at all, and slowly stepped out of bed.
Search for a Shadow Page 15