by Betty Neels
She let out the breath she had been holding and said very crossly: ‘Why did you have to tell me that now—and here, too?’
‘It seemed a good place.’ His voice was mild. ‘If we’d been on our own you would probably have burst into tears and flung yourself on my shoulder. You can’t very well do that here.’
She had to admit that there was sense in this remark, although she took exception to his dislike of having her head on his shoulder; he need not have said that. She said, still crossly: ‘You need have no fear of that; I’m not in the habit of flinging myself at you or…’ She bit her lip, remembering Leo; she hadn’t flung herself at him, but she must have done something very like it, because he had felt so sure of her, hadn’t he? She swallowed and looked at Ross, who was looking at her with no expression at all. She heard a voice calling her flight and was thankful for it, for she had no idea what to talk about any more. Now she was able to exclaim in a bright voice: ‘Oh, I have to go, don’t I?’ She tried to sound pleased and eager.
She put out a hand and he took it. He took the other one too and pulled her to him and kissed her hard and long. Cor and the girl must be watching, Gemma thought confusedly, and kissed him back.
She joined the queue without looking back at him, and her muttered goodbye was so low that he could scarcely have heard it.
CHAPTER NINE
THE journey went smoothly, which gave Gemma no reason for the feeling of gloom which slowly enveloped her, and it wasn’t Leo who filled her thoughts; it was the memory of Ross’s hand crushing hers in a gentle grip—and his kiss. She had been an embarrassment and a nuisance to him, and her heart warmed at the remembrance of his help when she had needed it most, and the time and trouble he had spent on taking her out during those last few days, especially after what he had told her. She hadn’t thought about it much, but if he was about to be married, he must be relieved to see the back of her. She felt so forlorn at the idea that she picked up the magazine on her lap and made herself read it until the plane touched down at Heath-row. She went through the Customs and boarded the bus to London without really noticing what she was doing, for nothing seemed quite real any more; it was like having a bad dream, only she didn’t seem able to wake up from it.
It was when she was standing in the queue waiting for a bus to Waterloo station that the explanation of her gloom struck her with all the force of a thunderbolt. It was Ross, not Leo, whom she couldn’t bear to leave, and it was he, and not Leo, whom she loved—had loved all the time; she knew that now with all the clarity of hindsight.
She stood there, unable to think of anything else, while the more unscrupulous of those behind her edged past to take her place in the swelling queue. She didn’t notice—indeed two buses came and went before she roused herself to board the third. She had to queue again at the station for a train which wouldn’t leave for the best part of an hour, but she didn’t notice that either. Anyway, what did it matter if she missed a train—nothing mattered now; she was never going to see Ross again, and she didn’t know how she was going to bear it.
She arrived home at last, her head an aching jumble of regrets and far-fetched ideas about meeting Ross again, although none of them really held water, and what would be the use if he was about to get married?
She went through the open gate and up the path and in through the door standing ajar. There were voices coming from the sitting room; she opened the door and went in.
Everyone was there—the entire family—and with them, standing with his back to the empty fireplace and looking very much at home, was Ross.
Gemma dropped the bag she was carrying from suddenly nerveless fingers and gulped back the heart which had somehow got into her throat. ‘Ross?’ she said in a funny, dry little voice.
There was movement around her. She was aware of the family trooping out, grinning delightedly but saying nothing. When they had all gone: ‘You silly darling girl,’ said Ross, ‘I was beginning to think that you would never know, and then at the very last moment when I kissed you goodbye…but you didn’t quite know then, did you?’
‘No,’ whispered Gemma, ‘it wasn’t until I was in the bus queue. How did you get here?’
‘I chartered a plane.’
Her eyes flew wide open. ‘Ross—a whole plane!’ She looked down at her feet and mumbled: ‘I didn’t know, it’s so silly, but I didn’t…’
‘Know that you loved me and that I loved you?’ he finished for her. ‘I know you didn’t, dear love, that’s why it seemed a good idea to get here first, just in case you didn’t discover it on your way here.’ He added: ‘My dear muddle-headed darling.’ His arms, wrapped around her, felt hard and strong but tender too.
She muttered into his jacket: ‘But you heard what they said—I’m plain and—and I don’t excite…’
She felt him shake with laughter, but she wasn’t allowed to say any more, for he kissed her breathless and then put a hand under her chin to look into her eyes. ‘You are my own beautiful girl,’ he told her with satisfying conviction, ‘and you excite me very much.’
‘Oh, Ross,’ she said again, then remembered something and pushed him away a little so that she could see his face. ‘You said you’d taken your great-aunt’s advice and that you were going to marry.’
‘You, my dearest, who else? It’s been you, ever since I first saw you, all tangled up in the washing. And why do you suppose Mama gave a lunch party for the entire family? So that everyone could meet you, of course.’
‘There were so many of them, too.’
‘You have quite a family yourself, my darling—we’ll marry and have them all to see us wed.’ He kissed her again and paused, his eyes narrowed in thought. ‘Let me see, I could manage next week—a special licence could be arranged. Which day would you prefer, my darling?’
‘Next week?’ Gemma’s voice rose to a squeak. ‘But how could I possibly—besides, a special licence…and where?’
‘Here, of course—with you in white silk and roses and the church crammed with our families—is there any reason why we shouldn’t?’
‘None at all,’ declared Gemma happily, dismissing at least a dozen good reasons why it couldn’t be managed—but if Ross said so…
The door opened and George’s head appeared. ‘Cousin Maud said we weren’t to interrupt, but it’s only me,’ he excused himself with a beguiling smile. ‘I just wondered if you’re going to be married.’
‘That is the idea,’ agreed the professor gravely.
George eyed him thoughtfully. ‘Has Gemma said she will?’
His future brother-in-law assured him that she had. ‘Oh, good,’ said George. ‘I can come and stay with you in Holland, then?’
‘Certainly. We shall be delighted to have you.’
George nodded his untidy head; of course they would be delighted. ‘I suppose you’ll have some babies?’ and when Ross said ‘Oh, yes,’ in a bland voice and grinned at him, he offered: ‘I’ll play with them if you like—one at a time.’
‘A generous offer, George. I believe that Gemma has a present for you in her case—take it with you and have a look.’
When the door had been firmly shut once more, Ross tightened his hold and pulled Gemma a little closer. ‘These interruptions!’ he murmured. ‘How far had I got?’
‘Let’s play safe,’ suggested Gemma, ‘and start again from the beginning.’
ISBN: 978-1-4592-3921-0
A GEM OF A GIRL
Copyright © 1976 by Betty Neels.
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