The house of my enemy

by Norrey Ford

  "You were too impatient, my good girl. And don't tell me any fishermen's story of the one that got away. Let me re-bait for you. We can't risk a hook in those white female fingers of yours, so slender and all."

  The next time she did better, and laughed to see how small her fish was when it came clear of the magnifying water. But the fish were biting well and soon they had a fair-sized catch flapping in the bucket at their feet. A fever of fishing gripped them, till suddenly Verity glanced behind her into the bucket and declared they'd caught enough.

  "Suddenly I feel a murderer. They were having fun, just like us. I like fishing, but I hate catching fish."

  He wound up the lines and put corks on the bare hooks for safety. "Maybe you're right at that. Are you ready to eat now, or will you change your mind and run for Scarlington?"

  "Now, please. I'm too hungry to wait another minute; and anyway we're too scaly for Scarlington. Produce your food."

  He waved towards the tiny cabin. "Your job, woman of the house. The stuff is on the table and the teacups in the racks above your head."

  Sealoam's cabin was well equipped in seamanlike fashion. Verity was able to wash, powder her nose and tidy her windblown hair before announcing lunch. She was intrigued by the tablet of elegant scented soap, the fine linen towel she found by the washbowl. Did he always provide himself so daintily, or were they put there specially for women guests?

  They ate with a hunger only the sea can give. Verity bit heartily into a beef sandwich and nodded approval. "Good sandwiches, Adam. Lots of mustard, too. Aunt Fidget makes her sandwiches too dainty, no good for out of doors. We have to cut our own if we're liable to get hungry."

  He watched her quizzically. "I still can't believe you're the Verity Bramhall I've been brought up to despise."

  She stopped eating, a sandwich poised in mid-air. "Despise? Why? We've been brought up to believe your lot were crafty, grasping, and lacked decent feelings, but we didn't despise you. Though after the way you got me here against my will, I agree on crafty."

  He passed her another sandwich. "Take your share now, or I might eat the lot by mistake. You and Laurie were said to be rich, proud, spoilt and idle. You lived on peaches and champagne, attended by battalions of servants and never putting your dainty foot to the ground. I wish Dad could see you now, munching Bella's good sandwiches and with a smear of fish-scale across your knee."

  She studied her slim legs anxiously. "I haven't!"

  "You have so. And a nice delicate ankle if one may say so. Here—wipe it off with the towel."

  She did so. "Laurie isn't any of the things you said. I may be some of them. If I'm idle it isn't my fault. I'd like to earn my own living, but Daddy won't hear of it. He likes me to be on hand when he needs me."

  "Wise man! Who wouldn't? Crikey, look at the time. Hurry up with that coffee, we must up anchor and away. We went on fishing longer that I intended. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it."

  They swallowed the scalding coffee quickly. On deck, Adam scanned the sky, eyes screwed up. "H'm, the weather has deteriorated a bit, and we're later than I intended. The wind has freshened considerably."

  "It seems perfectly calm to me."

  "We're sheltered here. Look at that fishing-boat." He pointed. "White horses on the sea now. I could kick myself for not noticing. Your fault, my lady; you're such darned good company."

  "Thank you for the compliment, but no thanks for the blame. Is it. serious, Adam?"

  "A capful of wind only. Seafoam won't be troubled by it—nor will you, or I miss my guess. The only worry I have is in the time limit. I won't take risks with that promise of mine. I'm going to run into Scarlington and put you on the train. We can make Scarlington harbour in twenty minutes, wind and tide in our favour."

  The wind tugged her hair widly. "I'm not deserting the ship," she told him firmly. "When I start a thing I see it ' through."

  "The wind is rising every moment. There's a chance you'll be late. Better take the train."

  She shook her head. "Is there an equal chance we'll be on time?"

  "I believe so. I'm not running any risks, that's all."

  "Very well, I take the chance too. I'm no quitter."

  He studied her, as if taking the measure of her mind. Then he gave her that slow smile which she had learnt to know. "You're no quitter, girl. The sea's a good testing school, and fine you show up in if. All right, we'll go, and God prosper the Seafoam and all who sail in her."

  Returning around the Head, Seafoam needed all Adam's attention and progress was slow. The game little boat crawled up a hill of water, slithered down the other side crabwise before starting another slow upward crawl. It was impossible to note their progress by a sight of the

  shore, but after what seemed a long time the strain eased slightly.

  Adam was anxious for his passenger. The last half-hour in such a small boat had been a severe test for a lands-woman; she was a good sailor, but was she good enough to stand this? He shouted over his shoulder. "You all right?"

  There was no answer. He risked a backward glance, and grinned. He needn't have worried. She hadn't answered because she couldn't hear, with the wind blowing and the south-wester tied firmly under her chin. Her expressive face was vivid with keen delight. She caught his eye and made a triumphant thumbs-up gesture, before his momentary inattention caused Seafoam to drench her from head to foot with spray and green water. Laughing, she shook a fist at him. He mouthed "Sorry!" and gave all his mind to the boat.

  That mustn't happen again to the disdainful, useless Miss Verity Bramhall, who was too fine to soil her fingers or put her dainty foot to the ground. He strained his eyes to see a first sight of the stone bastions marking the entrance to the harbour, and smiled to himself. She was no quitter, his fine girl.

  His? Desire surged through him like the sharp turning of a knife. Odd creatures, women! The infinite trouble they took to be soft and white, perfumed and silken-clad, smiling, soft-spoken! Yet when desire really struck a man deep and hard between wind and water, it was for a laughing tomboy in a yellow sou-wester, her face wet with salt water, her graceful body muffled into a shabby oilskin.

  He kept his eyes on the job, but her expressive face was printed in his mind. That firm smooth skin would be cool to the touch of finger or lips, cool and salt-tasting after her wetting.

  He pulled down the corners of his mouth in a grimace. He'd deserve her wrath if he failed to get her back in time, and instinct told him Verity's just wrath would be no small thing.

  Verity was enjoying herself without a care. She had complete faith in this man's ability to get her into harbour in time. Seafoam rode the water like a cork, but there was purpose and drive behind the motion. Adam was in command, confident, competent. She studied his broad back, the set of his head on those powerful shoulders. He'd promised to be in Bridsea harbour in time, and he'd do it.

  Cautiously she groped along a thwart and came up to stand beside him, twisting her hand into his belt to steady her feet on the heaving deck. "You're having all the fun up here," she grumbled into his ear.

  "You're a girl in a million, Verity. You don't scare and you don't nag. In answer to the question you haven't asked, we'll make harbour in time. Will you come fishing again next Saturday?"

  "I'd love to, but I'm not sure if it can be arranged. May I telephone you somewhere?"

  "At the warehouse."

  "I daren't! Suppose your father answered?"

  "Don't say you've lived with Uncle Robert all these years without learning to tell a convincing fib."

  "Laurie calls it self-preservation—and so it is. But I hate lying annd I'm not awfully good at it. My face gives me away. I could never think of anything so convincing as those Oriental currants. I'll just say wrong number."

  She staggered, caught off her guard by a bigger wave. His free arm went round her, and because it was so much easier to stand like that, she stayed within the hard circle of his grip, her slight figure braced to his, shoulder an
d hip and knee. Presently he turned his head slightly, and kissed her cheek.

  Her heart missed a beat.

  "There are temptations a man shouldn't resist," he murmured. "'I thought your cheek would feel cool and soft like a tulip petal—and it did."

  Her voice was not quite steady. "Suppose you devote your attention to getting us into harbour?"

  "Plenty of time," he assured her. In a few more minutes they rode into the narrow entrance between the stone bastion and the wooden fishing-pier.

  He handed her ashore and passed up a generous basket of fish. "Hide these in the boot. And don't drive too fast, you've ample time."

  "You sound like Daddy!" Her eyes were alive with impishness.

  "Heaven forbid! I'd drive you myself if that would help, but my arrival at Springwater might complicate things for you. Don't forget next Saturday."

  "I'll try," she promised, a warm light in her eye. "Thank you for to-day, Adam. I had the most wonderful time; the boat, the fishing, and those marvellous sandwiches and—and everything." She remembered the kiss, and flushed warmly. "Goodbye—I must run."

  She picked up the fish basket and ran for the wooden steps up to the stone pier. At the top, she turned and waved to him.

  In kissing her, he had added another dimension to their friendship. It wasn't possible, now, to arrange another outing on simple cousinly terms. She would be saying yes or no to the possibility of being kissed again, and he must know that as well as she did. She had an idea Adam Bramhall didn't give his kisses lightly. There had beer[ a strange purity about the touch of his lips on her cheek.

  Speeding towards the farm with the competent skill she brought to anything she undertook, she pushed aside the question of Adam's invitation. All that mattered, for the moment, was getting to Springwater before Laurie and · Robert.

  When she turned into the yard, Sally and Hobo ran out to meet her. Sally was goggling with fright.

  "You've run it close. Laurie is showing his father the pigsties, but he can't keep him interested much longer. Run up the back stairs and tidy yourself. You look suspiciously windswept. Did you have a good time?"

  "The best! It was gorgeously rough and I caught a million fish. They're in the boot!"

  Sally rippled with amusement. "Who's interested in fish? Bless the child, she goes fishing with a good-looking man and comes back babbling o' fish! Tell me the important things. Did he kiss you?"

  Verity thrust a basket of shining fish into Sally's arms, lifted up her light feet and ran for the house. Sally stared after her.

  Springwater farmhouse was two hundred years old. The back stairs were narrow and steep, the oak treads worn thin by generations of maids. The architect hadn't dreamed of bathrooms. The front stairs descended into a windowed space between the dining-room and the drawing-room. Verity was half-way down these stairs when her father and Laurie entered the dining-room.

  "No more pigsties, Laurie. Tell Sally I want my tea." He stared at Verity. "Hello, where have you sprung from?"

  Verity's natural truthfulness was a handicap to her in times of urgent need. She hesitated and gulped, and was saved by Sally, who pushed open a serving-hatch—concession to modernity in the foot-thick walls—and called, "Got the loaf, Verity? Good girl! Oh, hello, you two—tea is nearly ready, I forgot bread so Verity dashed down to the village to fetch some. Towels and soap in the cloakroom, Mr. Bramhall, second on the left."

  "Formerly a butler's pantry," Laurie added, smoothly engineering his father in the direction of the newly-converted cloakroom, "but as we're never likely to have a butler . . ." He returned in time to grab a handful of his beloved's dark hair through the hatchway. "I do believe I'm marrying a thumping liar. I brought bread myself. Come clean, girl, or the wedding is off."

  "I'll tell you," said Verity quickly. "It isn't Sally's fault."

  He looked grave when he heard her story. "Frankly, poppet, is it wise? You're a fair young female, and if Adam fell for you in a big way there'd be ructions, both sides. I don't entirely give my blessing."

  His Sally was indignant. "You're as crusty and prejudiced as your father. You started it—you took us to see

  Adam, didn't you. Honestly, you two make me sick. Why not just tell him? He couldn't bite your heads off."

  Laurie said seriously, "Father isn't a joke, darling. His bite is as bad as his bark, if not worse. When he bites. He's setting me up in this farm lavishly, but don't make any mistake, I'll have to pay back every penny over the years. If you or I seriously offended him, my love, he'd stop supplies here and now. I'd be out on my ear, and so would Verity if she really got on the wrong side of him."

  Sally paled. "He wouldn't do it!"

  "The family feud hasn't gone on all these years for fun. The Bramhalls quarrel deep when they do quarrel, and don't easily make up. Don't underestimate my father's wrath, my girl. Verity and I are not just a couple of scareycats. We know our dear Robert."

  "Bother all Bramhalls! You've scared me out of my five senses."

  "You'll be one yourself in just two weeks."

  Sally's terrified face through the service hatch made Verity giggle so much that Laurie was infected too, and they clung together in a hooting hysteria which made Sally slam the hatch shut with an angry clatter.

  "We've offended her," said Verity, contrite. "Laurie, go and make it up. Father's coming."

  Robert Bramhall was in good spirts. "Well, love?" He pinched Verity's ear affectionately. "Laurie seems to have found himself a good farm. The land is in good heart, the standing crops are coming along nicely, and he's modernizing the buildings to save labour. Apparently the cows have to do all the work in future—sort of help-yourself snack bar."

  "The house is nice too, Daddy. I like the way the rooms open out of each other like a box of tricks. Sally has been haunting auction sales for the right kind of furniture, but to-day we'll have to eat in the kitchen because she hasn't a table anywhere else."

  "Come on, then. Let's be getting our tea, I'm hungry."

  "Wait till she calls us, darling. She's terribly nervous and will probably drop the teacakes in the fire if you appear before she's ready."

  "Well, I hope she won't be long. I'm a hungry man. By the way, we've to be at the Coopers' by eight, so give yourself plenty of time to titivate."

  "The Coopers?"

  He stared at her. "Aye—you heard. The Coopers—or did Sally forget to give you my message?"

  "N-no, she didn't forget. It had just slipped my mind, that's all. Did you say eight o'clock?"

  "What's the matter with you, girl? You're very comeday-go-day, God-send-Sunday, aren't you? Sally said you were up in the attic measuring, and she wouldn't bring you down but take a message. Did she give it to you or didn't she?"

  Verity took the bit between her teeth. Sally had forgotten, or there hadn't been time to deliver a message, but she'd lied valiantly in a good cause and mustn't be let down. "Of course she gave me the message, but I was so busy with one thing and another, the whole thing went clean out of my mind."

  He studied her with narrowed eyes. "It's a queer thing to forget, when a man who wants to marry you invites you to his home for dinner."

  "Well, I've remembered again, so that's all right. I'll go and see if Sally needs any help, and hurry things up in the kitchen." The important thing was to find out when this dinner party was to take place. It sounded suspiciously like to-night—but it might be tomorrow.

  "I'll come too I shall like this room better when there's a decent chair to sit on. I don't fancy packing-cases at my time of life."

  The kitchen was warm and deliciously scented with toasted teacackes and melted butter. This was the one room which had been completely modernized; Sally had wisely avoided pastel colours and kept to a white background with rich tones of butter yellow, leaf green and dark blue with the polished red tiles and proud battery of copper-bottomed pans which were a wedding present and already hung in ranks over the new white stove.

  "Come along, tea's' ready. I'
m sure you'd prefer to sit at the table, Mr. Bramhall."

  Verity said quickly, "Hobo wants to go out, Sally. Come and show me which door."

  Sally's innocent blue eyes widened. "Why, the one you—!" Then she swallowed a small yelp as Verity trod firmly on her foot. "I'll show you. Come on, Hobo."

  The dachshund, whose ideas were of food just now, and not at all of the frightening open spaces of the farmyard, was reluctantly hustled out of the kitchen into a paved scullery.

  "The message?" Verity whispered frantically.

  Sally clapped a hand to her open mouth. "Bless us and save use, I forgot! Verity, you can kick me. Was he furious?"

  "I swore you'd told me, but I'm in the dark. Give, girl."

  "You and your Aunt Fidget and Mr. Bramhall are dining with the Coopers to-night, eight o'clock. Not Laurie because his father wasn't sure of his movements. He telephoned about eleven, and I said you were in the attics."

  "Have you any attics?"

  "Two. I'm awfully sorry, I've made a muck of it."

  "My fault. I should have been back sooner. Can poor Hobo come in again now?"

  Robert Bramhall was displeased. He stood with his back to the stove, hands deep in his pockets, lower lip out-thrust. "If you've looked after the dog, Miss Sally, I'll be glad to have what's left of your attention."

  Sally blushed scarlet. Her hands shook as she lifted the big brown teapot. "Sorry," she whispered as she slid into her place at the table.

  Verity had once been to a Christmas party at Cedar Place, the Cooper home, as a shy, somewhat awkward schoolgirl. She had felt too unimportant even to have a place at table, and hardly dared speak to her partner. Not that it mattered, for he was overcoming his own shyness by talking too much and too loudly. He had, she remembered, had red wrists too big for his shirt cuffs.

  This time it was different. Subtly, she was made to feel she was the important guest.

  "Such short notice," Mrs. Cooper murmured. "I hope you don't mind. Just a simple meal and a game of bridge."

  In a moment when Aunt Fidget was alone with Verity, she winked portentously. "Eleanor Cooper ought to know better than to try and impress me. I was at school with her. She's making it sound like cold mutton on the kitchen table, but to my mind she's spreading herself. The house is all laid out in lamb and salad, as they say. Goodness knows why."