The Vital Spark

by Carson, Angela

  `You two look happy.' Vince looked just the reverse. `We've just been talking about Lee's swimsuit. You know, that nifty little white number she wears?'

  Vince patently did not know, and his scowl showed it. `Haydn ! For heaven's sake !'

  `I forgot you were hungry.' He assumed contrition, which did not suit him Lee thought angrily, but there was nothing she could do about it, and she hurried after the head waiter who led them to the table they had occupied before, by the window overlooking the harbour.

  `Something light, I think, today.' Haydn settled back in his chair and confided in the waiter. 'The chef promised he'd do something special with those strawberries we brought in, and we're longing to taste the results. Hmm,' he studied the menu, 'I think two omelettes will do nicely. We won't bother with the melon.' His look condemned the melon, and Lee turned on him in exasperation the moment they were alone again.

  `Do you have to be so aggravating?' she whispered furiously.

  `Why, what have I done?' Haydn's expression managed to convey a mixture of hurt and puzzlement, which might have deceived Lee except for the merry gleam in his eyes.

  `You know very well,' she retorted crossly. 'Each time you meet Vince, you go out of your way to antagonise him.'

  `I only tried to be polite. He might have thought we were laughing about him, otherwise, so I told him about your swimsuit,' Haydn grinned. 'He didn't look as if he'd seen it?'

  `He hasn't—oh, eat your omelette!' She attacked her

  own with an angry prod, which was cavalier treatment that the fluffy concoction did not deserve, and she thought nothing of it when she saw the head waiter give an unobtrusive signal towards the serving hatch when they finished eating, until the chef himself appeared, wheeling the sweet trolley. He made straight for their table.

  `I guessed you'd come,' he greeted them, 'and I wanted you to see what'd I'd made before it's split up into servings. My wife tells me you were in the domestic science field yourself, Miss Ramsay?'

  `I was,' Lee admitted, 'but my work didn't aspire to these heights.' It was a signal honour for the chef to come to them personally like this, and her eyes sparked as she regarded his handiwork.

  `Nevertheless we have a common interest,' he told her courteously. 'You'll see I remembered your trademark.' He stepped aside and revealed the results of his efforts, and Lee gave a gasp of delight.

  `It must have taken you hours !' She gazed incredulously at the shining white daisy spread across the entire top of the trolley, mounted on what must have been the biggest base she had ever seen. Meringue glistened like snow crystals, outlining each petal, which was placed on the base separately so as to represent one serving, and each petal cradled in its heart one of the perfect, ripened strawberries they had brought the day before. A dish of the berries, frosted with sugar, made the centre of the daisy. It was one of the most perfect examples of the culinary art Lee had ever seen—a masterpiece, created by a craftsman.

  `It would be sheer vandalism to eat it!'

  But you must try it,' the chef insisted. 'Your strawberries helped to create it.' He slid a deft scoop under two of the petals, transferred them and some extra strawberries from the centre on to two dishes, and put them in front of Lee and Haydn with a flourish. 'And when you go, I want you to take this,' he produced a flat cake box from the lower tray of the trolley. 'It's something I made specially for you to take home and enjoy. As a thank you, for bringing such fine berries,' he smiled. 'No man likes working with inferior materials....' He broke off as Vince appeared

  behind him, and with a bow withdrew kitchenwards, and Lee hoped Vince had not heard what the man said. He would take it as a personal 'insult, and he was quite capable of venting his spite on the chef as a result, she realised unhappily. She glanced up at his face apprehensively, and knew with a sinking heart that he must have heard every word.

  `This looks delicious,' she stammered, not knowing what to say. 'It would make a wonderful centrepiece for the table at the festival ball.'

  `I've planned something special for that night.' Vince spoke offhandedly, as if the daisy were an everyday offering at the Royal Anchor. 'That's only a foretaste,' he said loftily. 'And that,' he waved to the cake box which the chef had left on a corner of the table, 'that comes with my compliments ' Lee felt sure this was the first Vince knew of it, but he rose to the occasion nobly and took the credit himself

  `Last round goes to Vince,' Haydn murmured wickedly as the other man turned on his heel and went to greet another batch of diners, and Lee looked after him with troubled eyes.

  `I hope he doesn't take it out on the chef,' she murmured worriedly.

  `The chef is more than capable of holding his own,' Haydn reassured her. 'Vince has got a goldmine in that man, and he's a fool if he doesn't realise it. Especially now he's seen what he's capable of achieving in this line. If I were in Vince's shoes, I'd be planning a speciality dinner dance at the hotel once a month throughout the winter season, and the speciality would be the chef's table centre. Folks would come from far and wide, just to see what his next offering would be.'

  Lee looked at him from across the table. Haydn's mind was honed to a keen edge, and so was his enthusiasm. Beside him, Vince seemed like a pale shadow, and a sluggish one at that. She wondered how she had ever thought him attractive—and then wondered, uncomfortably, why she was bothering to contrast the two men, and in Haydn's favour....

  `It's gorgeous !' It tastes as nice as it looks.' She covered her sudden confusion by dipping her fork into the daisy petal, and for a while there was silence as the two gave their offerings the attention they deserved. 'He's made us another daisy—look, a little one. Isn't that kind?' she felt touched by the chef's gesture, and slid the cake box over to Haydn to see.

  `You'll have to use the daisy motif for you trademark now,' he said, and this time his eyes were serious. 'You can't reject a kindness like this.'

  `No.' For once they were in accord, she thought. And once again Haydn had won. But this time it was through no effort of his own, and because of that it did not rankle. I'm mellowing, Lee thought, surprised, and said aloud, 'As soon as we're back from that trip to the Channel Islands, I'll have to buckle down again. There'll be that float to make and decorate....'

  `I'll help you. If we work together, it won't take too long, and Ben can rig up the float for you.'

  `But you won't....' She stopped. Haydn would not be with them, then. Once he had got the Sea Mist back, he would move out of Polrewin and live on his boat again. That was what they agreed, and that was what she wanted. The thought of him leaving brought with it an unexpected sense of loss, and she considered it abstractedly. It would make odd numbers in the house again. Just herself and Jon and Nell. Ben did not count, because he did not live in.

  `Won't know how?' He misunderstood her, and she did not contradict him. 'Indeed I do, it's not the first float I've decorated, and I don't suppose it will be the last. And if the Sea Mist stands up to her trial tomorrow, we'll be able to bring the base materials like wire and stuff back with us. There's plenty at the nursery, it'll save you from having to buy, and I can take it back afterwards,' he offered casually.

  `Mmm.' Lee hardly heard him. She was too busy examing the strange feeling of flatness—that was all it was, she told herself robustly—that being without Haydn at Polrewin would leave behind. Just because he'd kissed her once or twice.... She was unusually silent on the way home. She felt Haydn's glance rest on her, and once he started

  to say something, but he seemed to think better of it, and she managed to avoid him until supper time, although there was no reason why she should want to. They had not quarrelled today, for the first time since he had come to Polrewin.

  `I'm glad your boat's mended.' Jon sat down at the supper table and listened to their news. 'I hope it doesn't mean you're going to desert us, though?' He put Lee's thoughts into words, and she gave a small intake of breath. Haydn looked up, straight at her, as if he might have heard it, though he would have to
have unusually sharp hearing, she thought, and tried to look interested only in the contents of her plate, but all the time she was acutely conscious of his eyes upon her, and wondered what he was thinking. `You promised to stay with us until after the festival, remember,' Jon went on, 'and I intend to keep you to that. It'll be a lot more fun if we can all go together.'

  Lee tensed, waiting for Haydn's answer, but he did not speak. The silence seemed to stretch out of an aeon of time, and at last she raised her eyes to his, drawn by his compelling look that she could feel through the emptiness of no reply. He watched her, as if he waited for her to say something.

  `You promised to help me with the float.' It was the best she could manage. Her mouth and throat felt dry, and her head felt curiously light, which was odd, she thought vaguely, considering the weight of confused thoughts that ran round inside it as she tried to read the strange expression in his eyes, and had to give up because it was unreadable, but not before it threw her mind into even greater confusion than before, making her heart race, and a strange, breathless feeling assail her, as if she had been running. Maybe it was cause and effect, she thought bemusedly. She felt she wanted to run, away from Haydn. And another, contrary part of her wanted to stay. Wanted him to stay at Polrewin. What was the matter with her? She took a mouthful of strawberry shortcake, and it might have been dust and ashes in her mouth.

  `So I did. And I can't help build the float if I'm living on the Sea Mist, can I?'

  She let out her breath, slowly, on a long sigh, and suddenly the strawberry shortcake tasted good again. Life seemed good. She felt like a prisoner under sentence who has just learned of a reprieve.

  `Haydn said Ben could make the float,' she said happily, and was unaware of her brother's startled look, which passed from herself to Haydn and back again.

  `Tell Ben what to do, and he'll do it,' Jon mumbled, and there was a grin on his face that might have been put there by his second helping of strawberry shortcake, and might not.

  `Will the day after tomorrow suit you for the trip to our nurseries?' Haydn asked him. 'We've got to take the Sea Mist out on trial tomorrow, and if she's satisfactory there's no reason why we shouldn't go over to the Islands the day after.' Again he said 'we' and he seemed to take it for granted that Lee would accompany him on the trial the next morning after they had delivered the daily supply of salads to the greengrocer, and the strawberries and large tomatoes to the hotel, and afterwards sampled some more of the chef's superb preparations before returning to Polrewin, jubilant at the successful repair work that had been done on the cruiser.

  `She's better than before—they gave her engine the once-over while they were about it, and generally did a good job. I'll take her in there for her yearly overhaul.' Haydn was pleased and showed it.

  `The day after tomorrow will be fine by me,' Jon agreed easily. 'It'll give me time to warn Ben, and we can run the daily deliveries down on our way.' He settled the chores to his satisfaction. 'All that's needed now is the weather. It'd be a pity to meet up with a storm, and arrive at your nursery feeling seasick instead of interested.'

  `It's got to be fine. The weather can't change now.' Lee felt quite shocked. Haydn had arranged the day out, hadn't he? And he always had his own way. The thought of bad weather had simply not occurred to her.

  `I don't think you need worry,' Haydn smiled at her from across the table. 'The forecast's good, and it seems settled enough.'

  He was right, of course. He always was, and the familiar exasperation at his rightness underrode her excitement as she got ready, but it was not enough to spoil it. She gave herself up to the enjoyment of the day, and determinedly forgot everything else. She surveyed her wardrobe, and thanked her lucky stars that her previous job as a demonstrator had made it both versatile and good. The need to appear before all sorts of people in all kinds of circumstances at a moment's notice had made her choose her clothes with care, and it served her in good stead now.

  A well cut maize-coloured polyester trouser suit, and a white silk sweater, would serve to keep her cosy and neat, and she could peel the jacket off if it got too hot. The fact that Haydn liked her in yellow was just a coincidence, she told herself firmly. It was her own favourite colour, and the soft creamy gold was a shade she was particularly fond of. It also happened to set off her unusually dark hair and eyes, and golden tan to perfection. She rejected jewellery. Her watch would be sufficient for today, and a pair of flat-heeled maize-coloured slip-ons completed her simple outfit, which met both her requirements, being smart as well as warm.

  She tucked a hanky in her pocket, and did not bother with a bag. She would not need money, and her short hairstyle was of the kind that obligingly keeps its appearance without attention unless it got wet. Briefly she remembered Haydn's teasing remark about putting on her swimsuit, and rejected that, too. The trip across to the Islands would take some time, and if they were to make a tour of Scott's nurseries there would not be time in one short day to go swimming as well. And swimming after dark, on the way back, was out so far as she was concerned. Her recent experience in the bay had frightened her more than she cared to admit, and Haydn's warning had not really been necessary. She closed her bedroom door, and felt oddly nervous as she went downstairs to join the men.

  `I thought you were never coming,' Jon grumbled with brotherly candour.

  The wait was worth it.' Haydn took in her outfit, and there was a gleam of appreciation in his eyes which sent a shiver down her spine.

  `Has the van been loaded?' She grasped at practicalities to cover the rising colour she felt in her cheeks, and knew to her chagrin that Haydn had recognised her move for what it was, and not for real interest. The glint in his eyes taunted her.

  `Yes, it's complete with strawberries and everything,' Jon unwittingly saved her face, and turned eagerly towards the van. 'I'll drive. Can you manage in the back, Sis, among the boxes?'

  `Shall I....' Haydn began, and she shook her head.

  `You're much too long,' she said emphatically. 'I can curl up in a smaller ball than you'd be able to.' She suited action to her words, and was soon comfortably ensconced with her knees drawn up to her chin and her arms round them, and trying not to look at the tray of luscious strawberries beside her. They were red, and ripe, and an open invitation, and she succumbed with a guilty look at Haydn in the passenger seat. His eyes gleamed at her through the driving mirror.

  `Caught you!'

  `I'm just sampling them to see if they're in good condition,' she retorted unrepentantly. 'Besides, I deserve payment for travelling in the back.'

  `You could sit on my lap.'

  `There's no room,' she threw back flippantly, and wondered why she suddenly wished the van was twice as big. Her thoughts were getting out of hand, she decided, and to Jon's surprise agreed meekly to wait for them on the quay while they delivered to the greengrocer and the hotel.

  She was glad to quit the van and be by herself for a little while in the cool, early morning air, and attempt to regain some of her poise before the men returned. She sat down on a nearby bollard, and her eyes found the Sea Mist, riding at anchor on the full tide, where they had left her the day before. Her dinghy bobbed gently at the bottom of the harbour steps, waiting to take them to the cruiser. She hoped the speedboat owner would not try any more tricks while they were in the rowboat, and even as the thought struck her she saw the object of her aversion carefully easing his way out between the clutter of boats in

  the harbour, his own fast craft throttled down to a slow speed, and she smiled. Haydn must have made his wrath felt, and for the first time she felt glad of their guest's forcefulness. She suddenly wished, inconsequentially, that she and Haydn were going out together in the rowboat, instead of with Jon in the Sea Mist. Wished they were going somewhere where they could be on their own. Aghast at her own thoughts, she tried to stem them, but as useless to try and stem the tide. She knew, now, how King Canute must have felt, she thought with a wry attempt at humour that did not succeed.
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  Her thoughts rolled on, with the same inevitability that drove the waves with a regular beat against the bottom of the harbour wall. Hiss—boom—recede. Hiss—boomrecede. I—love—Haydn. I—love—Haydn. It had the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. Her own heart? The waves must be wrong. She did not love him; she could not love him. Panic took her and she tried ineffectually to wrestle with this strange, unexpected flood of emotion that could not possibly be real. She did not hear the two men return, did not see them, until Haydn stood over her.

  `Daydreaming again! Those confections the chef made have really got hold of your imagination.' His voice reached her through a fog, probing, teasing, and she looked up at him, her vision clearing. He loomed above her, tawny-haired, tawny-eyed, with the same catlike virility of the mountain lion she first likened him to. He was indeed a lion of a man. His very presence made her heart feel weak inside her. As weak as her legs, whose sudden lack of strength chained her to her seat on top of the bollard.

  `She doesn't like rowboats.' Haydn darted a smiling glance at Jon. 'We were nearly run down by a speedboat the other day, but don't worry,' he turned back to Lee reassuringly, 'he won't do that again.'

  `I know. I've just seen him go out of the harbour—slowly.' Somehow she managed to force her voice to sound normal, though she had to clench her teeth to stem the great trembling that seized her, and threatened to show in her voice. Surely Jon and Haydn. must hear it? With a great effort of self-control she slipped off the bollard, and waited

  for a moment to make .sure her feet would support her. They felt distinctly uncertain.

  `Come down the steps between Jon and me.' Haydn misinterpreted her hesitation, and went first, holding out his hand to guide her down, and when they got to the bottom one against the water he did the same as he had done before, stepped into the dinghy, and held out his arms and took her, then swung her down beside him and held her close to him until the boat stopped rocking. Lee clung to him, wanting the moment to go on for ever, then he put her down on to the middle seat, and the place where his arms had rested felt desolate, and she shut her eyes to blot out the feel of it, telling herself it did not matter, and only the boat tipping again told her Jon had joined them.