The Impossible Dream

by Hilary Wilde

  ‘Are you sure you’re not in love with him yourself?’

  In love—with Craig Lambert?

  It was ridiculous, she told herself. Of course she wasn’t. Yet she had noticed how different a room felt when Craig walked in. He had started a habit of looking in at the dancing classes, asking questions, and watching the girls, and the whole atmosphere of the room seemed to change immediately. Was that love?

  It couldn’t possibly be, she decided. She liked him, indeed she liked him very much, for he had stood on her side, trusting her, and although there was this old family feud with the Duvals, in which Patrick seemed involved in some way, Craig had not allowed it to influence his opinion of her.

  That was all it was, she decided, and when later that day, dancing with the girls on their social evening, Anarita said:

  ‘Is it true everyone is in love with Mr Lambert?’

  ‘How would I know?’ Megan could answer with an innocent smile.

  Anarita tucked her hand through Megan’s arm. ‘Are you?’

  Megan laughed. ‘Of course I’m not. I admire him, that’s all.’

  ‘But you must be in love with someone,’ Anarita persisted. ‘I mean no girl can really live unless she loves someone.’

  ‘Well, I seem to be living very well. So do you, Anarita,’ Megan teased.

  The lovely Italian-English girl looked thoughtful.

  ‘Do I? Yet I feel unfinished. I don’t feel a real me, if you know what I mean. I just can’t wait to be married. It will be so . . . such a happening. Have you ever been in love?’

  Megan thought. ‘No, actually I haven’t. I never had a real boy-friend because of my father, and . . .’

  ‘Do you mind? I mean never having had a boy-friend? Don’t you feel sort of . . . well, as if you’re not a real woman yet?’

  Megan laughed. ‘Look, Anarita, there are millions of perfectly happy women who have never had nor ever want to have a boy-friend. That doesn’t mean they’re not real women. Some of us love and some of us don’t.’

  ‘Well,’ Anarita sighed, ‘I don’t think you’re the kind who don’t . . . I know I’m not.’

  ‘Good grief!’ exclaimed Frank Parr, slightly limping as he joined them. ‘I’ve just broken my glasses. I’ll have to go in tomorrow to get new ones. Want a lift in, Meg?’

  ‘Thanks,’ Megan smiled.

  ‘Can I come, too, Mr Parr?’ Anarita asked quickly.

  He looked enquiringly at Megan. Megan had been rather worried recently because every time she and Anarita went into town, Anarita got lost. Or rather, she lost Anarita, and when she found her, Anarita always accused Megan of being the one who got lost. This had been going on for some time, but lately, Anarita had been ‘lost’ for longer intervals.

  ‘Look, Anarita,’ Megan said slowly, ‘I know you may think it’s a great joke, but you are my responsibility and I don’t like the way you vanish.’

  Anarita pouted, ‘I don’t mean to.’

  ‘Don’t you? I sometimes wonder if you do. I don’t find it funny at all.’

  ‘So if we take you, Anarita,’ Frank chimed in, ‘it’s understood you don’t get lost. Right?’

  She looked at him. ‘Is it my fault if Miss Crane gets lost? I have to look for her, don’t I?’

  ‘Let’s cut out that blarney stuff. You promise not to get lost?’ Frank Parr demanded.

  Anarita shrugged. ‘I promise to try and not let Miss Crane get lost.’

  ‘All right. One more chance,’ said Frank. Later he talked to Megan about it.

  ‘That girl has changed a lot in the last weeks,’ he said.

  Megan smiled, thinking what a beautiful warm night it was with stars sparkling in the dark sky as she and Frank stood just outside on the terrace.

  ‘Has she?’

  ‘Is it your influence, Meg?’ he asked, looking down at her.

  ‘I can’t see what I’ve done to help,’ Megan began.

  ‘You’ve made her feel that someone cares,’ a deep voice interrupted.

  Both Megan and Frank were startled as Craig came through the open French doors.

  ‘I apologise for overhearing what you were talking about,’ Craig Lambert said, ‘but your voices came in clear. I think it’s Miss Crane who has helped Anarita, Parr. She was a difficult child from the day she came here. Do you think she’s mixing better with fellow students? She’s not depending on Miss Crane too much?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Frank said quickly. ‘She rarely has a tantrum these days—remember how she went on hunger-strike, once, because she failed her exams?’ he chuckled. ‘She was a real handful. I must say I notice a big difference in her. The deliberate cheekiness that was a form of rebellion has also vanished.’

  ‘Yes,’ Craig agreed. ‘I think we can thank Miss Crane for that,’ he said, and went back into the school.

  Frank whistled softly. ‘You are in favour, Meg,’ he said quietly. ‘He’s right, too. You’ve done Anarita a world of good.’

  ‘I’m glad if I have helped. I’m very fond of her and yet at times she puzzles me. It’s as if she’s laughing at me, as if . . . well, as if she’s triumphant about something or other, somewhere she has got the better of me.’

  ‘It all sounds very complicated,’ Frank laughed. ‘We’d better go in or Miss Tucker’s tongue will begin to quiver. Has she said anything more to you about our night out?’

  ‘No. She hardly ever talks to me except to do with some extracurricular work.’

  They went inside the school. The dance hall was empty, but the record was still playing. Frank turned to Megan.

  ‘Meg, if you don’t want to then say so, but I’d like to try to dance. I’ve . . . well, maybe it was cowardice on my part or pride, but I used to love dancing. I wonder if my foot would be the handicap I thought it.’

  ‘Of course I’ll dance with you, Frank. Let’s start the tune again.’ Megan ran across to the record player. ‘What would you like? Modern or an old-fashioned waltz?’ She laughed. ‘The choice is yours.’

  ‘What about a nice romantic tango?’

  ‘Okay,’ Megan called, putting on the record.

  As the music began, Frank limped across the room, holding out his arms.

  ‘Oh, my love . . .’ he chanted. ‘My dear and sweet love, come into my arms, my dear one . . .’

  He put his arm round her and took her hand . . . and they danced. Frank’s first steps were clumsy, but that, Megan knew, was from nervousness. As the music went on, his self-confidence returned and his lameness was hardly noticeable.

  As the music came to an end, Frank stopped, his arm still round Megan. He leant forward and kissed her gently.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It was . . .’ Megan began, but the words died in her mouth, for she saw over Frank’s shoulder that in the doorway stood Miss Tucker, her cheeks bright red, her eyes flashing, her hand on Craig Lambert’s arm. He was looking at them gravely, his eyebrows drawn together.

  ‘You see, I told you! That’s why I fetched you. When I saw how they were behaving!’ Miss Tucker began. ‘You wouldn’t believe me . . .’

  Frank swung round, releasing Megan. He held out his hands expressively. ‘Just think what a fool I’ve been all these years, Miss Tucker. I thought I couldn’t dance, but Megan has shown me I can. I feel I’m reborn.’ He laughed. ‘If you knew what it means to me, to be able to dance! Well, Miss Tucker,’ he went on cheerfully, ‘at least now your girls will have another male partner to show them how it goes.’

  * * *

  As Frank drove them into the small town next day, Anarita chattered away happily while Megan found herself thinking of the day before and Miss Tucker’s startled, almost disappointed voice as she heard what Frank had said, and Craig Lambert had walked across the floor, smiling approvingly. Poor Miss Tucker—she had looked so squashed as she almost hastened away.

  ‘Miss Crane seems to be quite useful round here,’ Craig had observed with a friendly smile, and Frank had nodded.

 
; ‘We needed some young blood, I think,’ he had said.

  It was then that Craig had surprised them both as he looked grave. ‘I think you’re right. That’s been my opinion for some time, but . . .’ He had laughed. ‘Well, I’m glad about the dancing, Parr. Why not practise a bit while you’ve got the chance?’ and he had walked out, leaving them alone.

  Frank had whistled softly. ‘He is in a good mood, Meg, my dear! Looks like you’re working a miracle.’

  Which was absurd, of course, Megan was thinking as she sat in the back of the car because, for a treat, Frank had let Anarita sit in front. Despite the girl’s seventeen years, Megan was thinking, Anarita was very young in some respects, and now as she sat sideways, looking at Frank, her legs curled up under her, she seemed unable to stop talking.

  As the town came in sight, Frank arranged where to meet them.

  ‘We could have a cup of coffee or something cold before we go back.’

  ‘I promise I won’t let her out of my sight,’ Anarita said with a laugh, tucking her hand through Megan’s arm. ‘So don’t try to run away, Miss Meg.’

  They all laughed as they stood near the market, which was their usual meeting-place. It was bright and noisy, with all the gay colours and women chattering; huge baskets of fruit and food and small children running round and playing.

  Frank walked off to see about his glasses and Megan led the way down the crowded street. It was certainly much slower with the two of them walking arm in arm, but she decided to say nothing, as Anarita must not go off on her own. Not that any harm could come to her, Megan was certain of that, but she felt responsible to Craig; he trusted her and surely that meant she should be loyal to him?

  On the other side of the street, she suddenly saw Tracy Thompson. He waved his hand and Anarita was pushed back a little, so Megan didn’t see if she waved to the hippie-artist, as they called Tracy, but Megan, who quite liked him and couldn’t understand Anarita’s contempt for him, lifted her hand and smiled.

  Strolling past the shops, discussing clothes and what the next fashion would be, Megan caught her breath with dismay as she saw walking towards them, a familiar figure. Gaston Duval!

  Oh no! she thought. Craig would never forgive her if Gaston stopped to speak to them and she had to introduce Anarita. Craig, like Miss Tucker, had a poor opinion of Gaston for some unknown reason, and it would be a wonderful weapon for Miss Tucker to use if she could say that Megan Crane was introducing the pupils to undesirable characters. Megan could almost hear Miss Tucker speaking.

  Hastily she looked around. They were close to a bazaar.

  ‘Let’s go in here,’ she said quickly, turning to the girl by her side. ‘I want to look at some bracelets. I’ve got to get one for a present.’

  Anarita followed her into the shop. It was crowded and Megan went to the far end, pretending to be interested in the bracelets on display. She hated telling lies, but anything was permissible if she was to do what Craig expected of her.

  ‘Do look at this, Anarita,’ she said, and wondered why her voice was so shrill.

  Was she nervous? Frightened of Craig’s anger? she asked herself. It wasn’t that, she knew very well. But she appreciated the fact that he trusted her, that he relied on her to keep her side of it. And introducing an attractive man like Gaston to a romantic-minded teenager was surely not a good idea?

  The shop began to empty a little and Megan, glancing down the narrow aisle that divided the two counters, could plainly see the doorway. And Gaston Duval stood there! Waiting?

  She looked round and saw that Anarita was staring at a long black and white beaded necklet.

  ‘That’s pretty. Are you going to buy it?’ she asked, fumbling in her handbag for her purse and hastily looking for the cheapest bracelet she could see. ‘It’s awfully hot in here, Anarita, makes me feel I can’t breathe. Would you buy that bracelet for me? I’ll wait outside.’

  If Anarita was surprised she didn’t show it. She took the money and waited patiently for the two assistants to get through their many customers and get to her.

  Meanwhile, Megan had hurried outside to speak to Gaston.

  ‘Look,’ she began, ‘I’m sorry about this, Mr Duval, but the school is very strict about allowing the girls to come into town, and . . .’

  He smiled. ‘And they mustn’t meet undesirables? It is so? Ah,’ he laughed, ‘it is old-fashioned, that school, is it not? You wish me to take no notice of you? But that would be rude.’

  ‘Hullo, Gaston . . nice to see you again.’ Anarita’s loud voice seemed to pierce Megan’s head as she turned and saw the girl, so lovely, so young and so vulnerable in her white sheaf dress, smiling at Gaston.

  Gaston bowed. ‘Ah, it is Anarita Marco! But you have grown, my child. You were so young . . .’

  Anarita laughed. ‘The years have gone.’ She turned to Megan. ‘Why didn’t you tell me Gaston Duval was visiting the island?’

  ‘I didn’t know you knew him,’ Megan said weakly.

  ‘Of course I know him.’ Anarita laughed with some contempt. ‘Everyone in Europe knows Gaston Duval. Isn’t that true?’ she asked, tilting her head, her long black hair swinging.

  He smiled at her, his eyes narrowed. ‘I am flattered by your remark, Anarita.’ He bowed. ‘Time has worked a miracle. You were a fat child with untidy hair, and now . . .’ He gave another little bow, his face crinkling into a smile. ‘Words could not describe your beauty.’

  Anarita laughed. ‘I am flattered by your remark, Gaston. I got the bracelet you wanted, Miss Crane.’

  Gaston lifted his hand. ‘Ah, but I am not right in the head. I was looking for Miss Crane as I have a message. He turned to Megan. ‘It is from your brother. His wife is ill . . .’

  ‘Oh no! I am sorry.’

  ‘It is not serious, so do not feel disturbed, but they would like to see you. I think Patrick needs your help. Georgina is being—how do you call it?—difficult? She will not listen to him, she says she is very ill, but of course, that is nonsense. She is just being . . .’ Gaston smiled at them both, a quick intimate smile that seemed to imply that he thought the girl he looked at was the most beautiful in the world, Megan was thinking, crossing her fingers and hoping Anarita would not fall for Gaston’s French charm. ‘Perhaps if you had a talk with her? We could go now?’

  ‘Oh no, we couldn’t,’ Megan said quickly. That would be the last straw in Miss Tucker’s eyes, she knew. ‘I’ve got to go back to School now, but I’ll come in later. I can always get a lift.’

  ‘That is good, yes? I can drive you back,’ Gaston promised.

  ‘Thank you.’ Megan took hold of Anarita’s arm. ‘We must go. We can’t keep Mr Parr waiting.’

  ‘Why not?’ Anarita asked. ‘He often keeps us waiting.’

  Gaston laughed. ‘Ah, but I can see, Anarita chérie, you have not changed much.’ He bowed to them both and walked down the street, immediately merging into the crowd.

  ‘Anarita, where did you meet Mr Duval?’ Megan asked as they made their way down towards the market.

  ‘Four years ago in Rome,’ Anarita gave a little skip. ‘I was thirteen then and longing to fall in love. I was staying with my father’s aunt. She is the Contessa Marco and a real socialite. Of course I adored Gaston, he was so romantic. He hardly noticed me, but I didn’t mind that. I knew that one day he would.’ She laughed happily. ‘Isn’t he absolutely gorgeous?’

  ‘He’s very attractive,’ Megan agreed reluctantly, thinking that these visits to the small town might have to stop, for whatever happened, Anarita must not be encouraged to fall in love with the handsome Gaston Duval. Not even Craig would be able to forgive Megan for that, Megan was thinking as they hurried to meet Frank.

  ‘We met Gaston Duval!’ Anarita said triumphantly as Frank came, slightly limping, towards them.

  ‘You did what?’ The shocked horror on Frank’s face merely intensified Megan’s dismay. ‘Let’s have a coffee.’

  Sitting down under the gay red and yello
w sunshade, they drank their coffee and Anarita told Frank excitedly how she had met Gaston four years ago.

  ‘He didn’t even see me, but today he did, didn’t he, Miss Crane?’ Anarita turned eagerly to the silent Megan. ‘You could see that from his eyes. He thought me terrific. . .’

  ‘I imagine he makes every female think that,’ Frank said drily.

  Anarita laughed. ‘You’re just jealous, Mr Parr. I bet you’d like to be as handsome as that.’

  Megan remembered something and hastily interrupted Anarita’s teasing. ‘Georgina, my sister-in-law, is ill, and Patrick wants me to go and see her. I wondered if you’d bring me back after we’ve taken Anarita back to the school.’

  Frank frowned. ‘Look, we’ll drop you off after this, then I’ll take Anarita back and I’ll come and fetch you in, say, three hours’ time. Right?’

  ‘Frank, that would be wonderful,’ Megan began, but Anarita was laughing.

  ‘You’re afraid of Gaston Duval, Miss Crane? He offered to drive you back. Wouldn’t you rather have him than Mr Parr?’

  Megan felt a tremor of anger go through her. ‘There’s no need to be cheeky, Anarita. You’re old enough to know better. Mr Parr is my friend and naturally I’d prefer to come back with him.’

  Anarita chuckled. ‘I just don’t believe you. I bet Gaston’s got a white sports car and never drives at less than a hundred miles an hour . . .’

  ‘In that case,’ Megan said, finishing her coffee, ‘I’m very glad Mr Parr is fetching me.’

  Frank promised to explain why Megan would not be at the school for dinner. ‘I’ll see Miss Tucker,’ he said, looking significantly at Megan, and she smiled back gratefully, knowing he would tell Miss Tucker that Anarita had met Gaston Duval at her great-aunt’s castle near Rome and that it had nothing to do with Miss Crane!

  But would Miss Tucker believe him? Megan worried silently. She could just hear Anarita’s gay triumphant voice as she told her friends about the handsome Frenchman who had told her she was too beautiful for words to describe!

  Anarita was certainly in a happy mood, Megan thought miserably, for she herself was not. Now Anarita was teasing Frank again.