The Impossible Dream

by Hilary Wilde

  ‘But Miss Wilmot said . . .’ she began.

  ‘Ignore what Miss Wilmot said. She has always, unfortunately, been jealous and possessive, and this is the last straw. I find it hard to understand how she could be so foolish—she’s stuck one stamp from another envelope. This letter was written here.’ He frowned. ‘There are going to be big changes. I’ve decided to make them at once. Miss Tucker must go. I’m arranging for her to retire a year earlier than normal, but I shall make this financially better for her. Quite a few of the staff will go, including Petronella Weston, who has extremely annoyed me with her behaviour.’

  ‘Miss Wilmot said she was to be headmistress.’

  ‘Miss Wilmot?’ Craig threw back his head as he laughed. ‘That really is absurd! She hasn’t a clue about children. No, I’m offering the job to Frank Parr.’

  ‘Frank?’ Megan was startled. ‘Headmaster of a girls’ school?’

  Yes. It happened at Roedean, didn’t it? I can trust Frank, he has a good sense of humour, tolerance, he gets on well with both staff and the girls and he isn’t handsome enough for them to have crushes about him.’

  ‘Frank is . . .’ Megan began quickly.

  Craig chuckled. ‘Standing up for someone, as usual, Megan? I know Frank has something . . . that’s why I’m offering him the job. I hope he’ll take it. Think he will?’

  Megan leant back in her chair, half-closing her eyes, remembering the long talks she had had with Frank, how often he had told her he was against too much discipline. ‘It should be self-discipline,’ he had said. ‘I trust children and then they are to be trusted. It’s laying down ridiculous rules that causes rebellion and friction.’

  Megan nodded slowly as she looked at Craig. ‘I should think so. He’d be a wonderful headmaster.’

  ‘Are you in love with him?’

  The unexpected question was a shock. ‘No . . . I’m very fond of him, but I definitely don’t love him.’ She realised with dismay that she had emphasized the last word. She could only hope Craig hadn’t noticed.

  ‘Good. Perhaps I should say, not so good for Frank. He loves you. You know that, of course?’

  Megan nodded. ‘I’m sorry, but . . .’

  ‘Don’t get a guilt complex about that, Megan. It’s not your fault. Where was I? Oh, yes, there’ll be a real re-shuffle of the staff. I’ll be consulting with the new headmaster and then . . .’

  ‘And then?’ Megan almost whispered the words.

  ‘I’m off to South America.’

  ‘South America?’ she repeated. That was thousands of miles away, she thought, dismayed. He would go right out of her life for ever . . . but perhaps that was better. It might be less painful than seeing him every day and knowing he saw her as a young nuisance!

  Suddenly she thought of something and her hand flew to her mouth. ‘What about Patrick?’ she asked nervously. ‘I think he has . . . well, I think it was the meanest . . .’

  Craig looked amused. ‘Your brother is weak and easily influenced. Gaston Duval has a smooth tongue and built up a wonderful future with the minimum of work. I think Patrick realises life is not as simple as that. He’s been made a good offer for the dancing school, one I think will tempt him so that he’ll sell it.’

  ‘And go back to England?’

  ‘I doubt it very much. Actually I’m buying the Studio of Dancing myself and shall offer him the post of manager. I’m also going to arrange for the classes of older girls to go to his school for lessons. I shall arrange, or have arranged,’ he added with a smile, ‘for them to meet more people, lead a more normal life. Patrick could be of assistance in this way.’

  ‘You’re very good . . . ‘Megan said slowly. ‘Not many men would be so kind.’ It seemed as if everybody’s life was being wonderfully arranged except her own! she thought sadly.

  ‘South America is a wonderful continent,’ Craig went on, his face thoughtful. ‘I told you I was an archaeologist by preference? Well, it seems something interesting has turned up in Brazil, so I’m taking a six-months’ holiday. That’ll give Frank time to find his feet before I come back. I want him to be able to manage on his own, but this . . .’ he waved his hand round expressively, ‘will always be my home.’

  Megan nodded. She couldn’t tell him, but she would give anything for it to be her home, too, she was thinking, when Craig startled her, by leaning forward over the desk and saying:

  ‘Brazil is an ideal place for a honeymoon, you know.’

  The words sank into her mind slowly. For a moment she could only stare at him, but then, somehow, she forced herself to speak.

  ‘So you’re getting married?’

  ‘I hope so. If the girl will have me,’ said Craig.

  ‘The girl?’ Megan whispered, for what girl would keep him waiting for an answer?

  He picked up something from the desk, walked round and bent over her.

  ‘This is the girl. Do you think she’ll say yes?’ he asked, showing her a photograph.

  Megan caught her breath. It was a photograph of herself!

  ‘But . . . but . . .’ She looked up and found he was bending so close to her that his mouth was very near. ‘You love me?’ She sounded startled.

  He nodded. ‘Ever since my man in England sent me this. I think he took it when you were shopping in the supermarket. He sent photos of the three of you—you, your father and your Aunt Lily. I like to know everything about people I’m going to have to trust. I took one look at this photo of you and the strangest thing happened.’ He was smiling as he spoke. ‘Frankly, I’ve always been rather sceptical about love, Megan, particularly love at first sight. Yet, as I said, I looked at your photograph and knew you were the girl I wanted to marry.’

  ‘But . . .’ Megan felt confused, for this was so unlike the Craig Lambert she had known. ‘You mean you fell in love with my photograph?’

  He laughed. ‘I did. I don’t mind telling you it was a bit of a shock. However, I knew I had to meet you and get you to know me—for I felt I knew you already.’

  ‘Then it was because of me that poor Miss Pointer was sacked?’ Megan asked.

  ‘Yes and no. Miss Pointer would have been sacked much earlier but for you. She was always a bit of a rebel; grumbling about the school, making the girls discontented because of our stringent rules. I had, for some time, been thinking of firing her, and then you turned up and when I learned you were a dance teacher, it seemed the answer. So I went and met your Mrs Arbuthnot and told her I needed a teacher. I managed it so that we talked about you. I asked if I could see some of her teachers at work and she was only too willing to show me. I said I thought your youth and originality was what we needed . . .’

  ‘It wasn’t really?’

  He smiled. ‘Actually, it was really, but at the same time I wanted to get you out here so that you could get to know me. I could hardly ask you to marry me when you hadn’t even seen me, could I? Anyhow, your Mrs Arbuthnot agreed you were a good teacher and she said frankly that she wished you could have the job as she was very concerned about you. However, she told me it was unlikely that you would ever have a chance of accepting such a good job because of your loyalty to your father. That seemed to block off all my efforts. Still, I refused to give up hope. Your father wasn’t all that old, maybe he’d marry again. You were young and I would have to wait. So I let Miss Pointer stay on. Then I heard your father was selling the house and that you were looking for a job.’

  ‘Craig . . .’ Megan stopped him, her eyes narrowed as she thought. ‘You didn’t deliberately make Patrick . . .’

  He looked startled. ‘You don’t really think I’d . . . ?’

  ‘I don’t think so, but they said . . .’

  ‘If you’d rather believe what they said.’ Craig sounded hurt and turned away.

  ‘Craig, please,’ Megan said quickly, ‘I didn’t think that, only it seems such a coincidence that Patrick should ask Dad for money and Dad sell the house so I was free and . . .’

  Craig turned round ag
ain, smiling. ‘Not a coincidence but fate, Megan.’ He pulled her gently to her feet and clasped his arms round her loosely. ‘I jumped at the chance I was offered and got you here. Tell me,’ his arms tightened slightly, ‘tell me the truth—do you love me, Megan?’

  It was difficult to think properly when she was so close to him. She shook her head slowly. ‘I can’t believe you love me, Craig. It was just one of my dreams that I knew could never come true.’ Somehow her arms found their way round his neck as she looked at him. ‘Surely you can see!’ she said with a smile.

  ‘I still want you to tell me,’ he insisted.

  ‘I can’t realise it, Craig. I just can’t believe it. You . . . well, I had no idea you felt like that about me,’ she almost whispered.

  ‘I couldn’t let you know in term time, could I? I was waiting for the holidays. But like Anarita, I refuse to wait any longer.’ His arms tightened. ‘Megan, will you be my wedded wife?’

  ‘Oh, Craig, of course I will!’

  ‘You still haven’t told me.’

  She laughed happily. ‘It’s like a fairy tale. My dream of an island with palm trees and blue lagoons, and a house with a thatched roof, and the darlingest man in the world . . .’

  ‘Megan . . .’

  Megan stroked his face gently. ‘Of course I love you, Craig. I love you very much indeed.’

  ‘That’s all I wanted to know,’ Craig said as he tightened his arms so that she could hardly breathe.

  At that moment, the phone bell shrilled impatiently.

  Craig laughed. ‘Let it ring. I’ve more important business to do,’ he said, and then he kissed her.