A cold frosty moon cast a silver mantle over the sleeping house when they turned into the drive at Meads. A chink of amber at one side of the lounge window told Tessa that either Nicholas or Florence waited up for her. She drew her wrap close and reached for her gloves and purse.
‘Just a moment, Tessa.’
There were shadows under the eyes in the white face she raised as Dennis spoke.
‘Before you go in there’s something I have to tell you.’
She waited, hands resting lightly on the brocade bag lying in her lap.
‘This is the last time I’ll be taking you places, Tessa. Don’t misunderstand, I hope we shall always remain friends, but I’m not sufficiently conceited enough to read anything other into our relationship than what is there. Once I thought, perhaps...’ He twisted round to face her. ‘I’m not putting this very well, I’m afraid,’ he shrugged, ‘but I think we know now what we want. I believe it will save complications if we—well—pursue our own ways in future, and our desires.’
She thought numbly, even Dennis is deserting me, and was surprised at the sense of loss she was experiencing.
‘It’s easy for you,’ she said in a whisper.
‘I know, little Tessa, and I’m going to miss you, even though I know there’s no spark between us.’ She was silent, and he went on slowly, ‘Long ago you told me the truth about my own desires.’
Although she had forgotten this she knew he referred to Christine.
‘Last week she came to the Sapphire Caprice with her father.’ Dennis smiled in the darkness. ‘When a girl like Christine is escorted by her father it means she is prepared to begin anew. We danced a couple of times, and while I’m not fool enough to say I’ll ever understand a woman I felt she was waiting for me to make the first approach. As I now have something concrete in my future to offer’—Dennis drew in a deep breath—‘I’m going to make that approach.’
He fell silent, and Tessa knew with sudden certainty that he would be a perfect foil to Christine, his restless facile gaiety with its underlying current of sensuousness matching the voluptuous quality that smouldered beneath her outward brittle sophistication.
‘And remember, Tessa, if you ever need any advice in managing your love-life, Uncle Dennis will always be pleased to advise.’ He attempted to instil a note of lightness. ‘Oh, and before you go,’ he stopped to rummage in the shelf under the dash, ‘I’d like you to have this—just as a token.’
He laid a small package in her lap, and she looked from it to his face with surprise. ‘I’ll put the roof light on, then you can see.’
Obviously he wanted her to open it, and she removed the outer wrappings with unsteady fingers, revealing a slim, oblong jeweller’s box. She paused for a moment before lifting the lid, while he watched her with a slight smile.
An involuntary sigh escaped her as she saw the shimmer of silver nestling in a bed of white velvet. A delicate tracery of silver filigree in the form of three snowflakes, each with a small moonstone set in its heart, linked by fine chains made the central motifs of the necklace. Gently she touched the milky lustre of the stones with the tip of her forefinger before she turned to Dennis, her expression tender.
‘It’s exquisite, but for me—’There was a question in her eyes.
He gave the curious, mock-cynical tilt of his head which she had come to associate with him and said lightly: ‘I’ve never given you anything, and I felt I wanted to give you some trinket to remember me by. Will you, Tessa? Especially in view of tonight’s news. I’m quite resigned to seeing you depart across the seas.’ The shadows came back to her face, and he cursed silently, regretting his careless choice of words.
She was perilously near to tears as she said softly, ‘Thank you, Dennis, you’ve chosen perfectly. It’s beautiful.’
He stirred restlessly. ‘I suppose I’d better let you go in now, or his lordship will be convinced by now that I’m seducing you. Got your gloves and everything?’
‘Yes, thank you, and thanks again for the necklace.’ She turned towards him, half raising her hand as she added, ‘I hope you’ll find happiness.
He shook his head reproachfully at the proffered hand and took her into his arms. ‘No, my sweet, this is one kiss you can’t refuse me.’
A final pressure of his hand and she got out of the car, clutching her belongings in one hand to turn and give a last wave before he drove away.
Tessa let herself into the silent house and paused to drop her key back into her bag. Then a slight sound from above made her glance up sharply towards the top of the stairs. She glimpsed a brief shadowed movement across the landing and a sudden shaft of light. Then a door closed, leaving darkness above and a lengthening silence.
She called softly, ‘Is that you, Nicholas?’ and stood still, waiting. Puzzled, she glanced into the empty lounge before going along to the study.
The alcove lights still burned, though the guard had been placed in front of the fire. From an armchair Ming and Dara, curled into two soft furry balls, opened filmy blue slits and blinked sleepily at her. Automatically she bent to stroke their silky heads, and saw the coffee percolator on the hearth. She touched it and peeped inside; it was full, and still hot.
Then she saw the tray on one corner of the desk. Under a white cover were biscuits and plump flaky sausage rolls. The tray was set for two.
Tessa stood alone in the silent room. She looked up once, and again at the tray. Then she flung herself into Nicholas’s wing chair, her face white with anguish. The necklace in its box fell unheeded to the floor as she buried her head in her arms and wept as though her heart would break.
CHAPTER XIII
The letter came with the morning post.
Forewarned of its contents, Tessa left it unopened beside her plate and listlessly nibbled at a piece of toast. She shook her head at poached egg and earned an unexpectedly sharp rebuke from Florence.
‘How do you expect to last until lunchtime on one slice of toast?’
‘I’m not hungry.’
Florence observed the troubled face and the shadowed eyes, and her voice softened lightly. ‘Headache? You can’t burn the candle at both ends and expect to get up as fresh as a daisy, you know.’
‘It’s not that,’ Tessa said dully, reluctantly reaching for another piece of toast, if only to keep the peace.
But Florence seemed to be harbouring a grievance.
‘First Nicholas changes his mind without warning and goes off for the day after I’ve planned the meals. You come down like a stricken ghost, and I’ve got to go to a wedding.’ Lugubriously site poured herself a second cup of tea. ‘What a day for a wedding! On top of all that, the coal merchant says he can’t deliver until the eighteenth. Whether we’ll last out till then I wouldn’t like to say.’
It was unlike Florence to be dispirited, Tessa thought, glancing at the streaming window panes and deciding that the dark miserable day exactly matched the low ebb of her own spirits. She picked up the blue envelope; at least she would be spared the shock of string her mother’s announcement in cold print.
Odd phrases seemed more prominent than others as she skimmed through it. ‘Two weeks ago... the entire company came ... I’m so deliriously happy, darling, and wish you could have been with me ... I know you’ll love Martin.’
Then followed Angie’s description of the unknown Martin, whom Tessa felt unable to picture at all. And Angie was giving up her career. This filled Tessa with amazement. That her mother could turn her back on what had been the breath of life to her seemed unbelievable. Then she came to the final paragraph of the letter and her face whitened.
We are returning to England for a flying visit before we start our honeymoon proper. Martin is longing to meet you, darling, and I know we are going to be happy with him. You’ll love his home, it’s not unlike Meads—lovely old furniture and panelling. But most of all, at last we can settle down. You’ll have a settled home life and a new and wonderful world to explore, something we’ve always long
ed for...
Blindly Tessa raised her head and thrust the letter towards Florence.
A home like Meads; but three thousand miles away. The irony of Angie’s comparison rose to mock her. Home without Nicholas. She got up and went to the window, listening to the monotonous beat of the rain on the dark, soaked garden.
Nicholas, oh, Nicholas, she cried silently. How can I leave you? If only he were here, she thought desperately. But if he were, how could she confide in the only confidant her heart longed for?
‘I knew she’d surprise us all.’ Florence sounded fatuous. ‘It’s a wonder it hasn’t happened sooner.’ Apparently a romantic heart lurked beneath the plump bosom. Florence sighed. ‘Just think of him going to see the show every week and sending all those flowers.’
Tessa said in a muffled voice, ‘Yes, she sounds happy.’
‘Which is more than you do.’ Florence’s voice took on a sharp note. ‘I hope you’re not going to be one of those awkward children who resents a new stepparent.’
This attack, coming from the usually placid Florence, so surprised Tessa that it was a little while before she could reply. Jolted out of a mood verging dangerously near self-pity, she said indignantly, ‘But I don’t—resent Martin, I mean. And I most certainly wish Angie happiness. But why?’ Tessa raised her hands wonderingly, then let them drop to her sides. ‘Why didn’t she tell me? Why all the secrecy?’
‘You mean this is the first you’ve heard of it?’ Amazement and concern mingled in the older woman’s expression. ‘She never hinted in her letters that she was planning to marry again?’
‘I was told the news last night. By an acquaintance.’ Tessa strove to keep bitterness out of her voice.
‘I can’t understand it,’ Florence said helplessly. ‘Unless she wanted to surprise you.’ She undid her overall and took it off, revealing the new navy-blue grosgrain dress bought specially for her niece’s wedding. She went on thoughtfully, ‘A new life in a new land. When you’ve got adjusted to the idea it’ll be a tremendous adventure.’
Tessa was silent, watching the course of a big raindrop in its zig-zag trickle down the window pane. Near the sill it stopped, merging with another, then was lost in the pool of moisture on the wood. Suddenly the lines once learned for a school exam took on new meaning, and the garden was misted before her eyes as she quoted softly:
An English home, grey twilight poured
On dewy pasture, dewy trees,
Softer than sleep, all things in order stored
A haven of—
Her mouth quivered and her control broke. ‘It’s no use. I—I don’t want to live in America—I—I—’
‘There, there, lovey, don’t take on so.’ Florence reached out and drew Tessa close. ‘There’s a way out of everything if you leave it to time. Now dry those tears. You’ll only make your head ache, and all for nothing. For you can’t alter what’s to be.’
‘I suppose some day I’ll look back and realize it did get over,’ Tessa said in a muffled voice.
‘Hm, you’re young to have learned that philosophy,’ Florence commented. ‘Now are you all right? It’s almost time for my bus.’
‘Of course.’ Tessa blew her nose and attempted a watery smile. ‘I’m just being silly. Don’t miss your bus because of me.’
‘I’ve left some sole in the fridge—there’s plenty—I expected Nicholas to be home for lunch. And there’s some cold chicken. Mind you make a good meal. And don’t forget to feed the cats.’ She paused for afterthoughts. ‘Why don’t you start on the Christmas cards? There’s nearly a hundred to be done. It’ll keep you occupied, and the list and addresses are in one of the boxes. Now I must dash.’
Tessa watched the gay red umbrella bobbing down the drive. The rain had turned to a fine driving sleet, and she was glad to close the door against the biting wind. The day stretched ahead, bleak and uninviting. She wandered through the quiet house with her memories, feeling Nicholas’s presence everywhere. She picked up his lighter from his desk and flicked it on, watching the tiny flame before taking a cigarette from the silver box and lighting it. The acrid taste was unpleasant; where was the solace which nicotine was reputed to bring? She stubbed it out and shook her head impatiently, as if to shake off the clinging mood of melancholy that had lain like a pall over her since she wakened from her broken sleep.
Determinedly she finished the few chores Florence had left uncompleted, then, seeing the sleet had stopped, she put on a jacket and went outdoors. The sunken garden had died; no, gone to sleep, she decided, stooping to pull away some dead creepers. She went to the switch and started the fountain, remembering the day when Nicholas had the new mechanism installed. Now there was no sun to stream through the jets and turn the water into tumbling cascades of gold. Sighing, she turned it off and went back to the house.
Ming and Dara were only too willing to dispose of the fish she couldn’t eat, and afterwards they curled up contentedly while she sorted out the Christmas cards and settled herself for the afternoon with her transistor playing softly to break the silence.
Some time later she stopped, listening intently and seeing Ming’s head alert. Yes, the telephone was ringing in the study. She hurried to answer it, wondering how long it had rung without her hearing. The faint hope that it might be Nicholas vanished as she heard the clink at the other end which denoted that the call was from a box. Then everything was wiped out of her mind except what she was hearing.
‘Yes, of course I’ll come. Right away, Mary. Oh, poor little Susan! I’ll be as quick as I can.’
Hurriedly she collected her bag, glancing in her purse to make sure she had small change for the bus, and put fuel on the fires and the guards in place. At the door, she turned back. Better leave a note for, Florence. ‘In case I’m late back,’ she said aloud, looking for an obvious place to leave the note.
Susan was missing.
Mary had sounded so frantic that her phone message had not been easy to follow. The bus lurched, and Tessa caught at the seat in front to steady herself; if only it would hurry. Soon it would be dark and their chances of finding Susan halved. She was such a small sweet girl. However would they find her in the sparsely populated area where Mary now lived?
Tessa changed buses at the Marchfield terminus for the second lap of her journey, and it was dusk by the time she walked along the narrow winding lane to Wisteria Cottage.
Perhaps she has turned up, Tessa prayed inwardly as she knocked and waited. But Mary’s white face dispelled the hope when she opened the door, her own mute glimmer of hope fading and giving way to a pitiful attempt at a welcoming smile.
Jackie sat on a stool by the fire, his shoulders sagging forlornly and his chubby cheeks streaked with the traces of recent tears. Tessa’s immediate instinct was to comfort the small unhappy boy, but Mary raised a warning hand.
‘No sympathy for Jackie, please. I haven’t forgiven him yet for his part in this.’
Rather uncomfortably, Tessa took off her coat. She had never been able to resist offering consolation to a weeping child, but it was not for her to interfere with Mary’s disciplining of her children. She could only hope that Mary would not prolong the punishment unjustly.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
Mary dropped wearily into a chair. ‘Susan followed Jackie and some other children earlier today, and didn’t come back. I can’t make head nor tail of Jackie’s story—he says he sent her back home—and I’m sure he’s lying.’
‘But I told you, Mummy,’ Jackie cried despairingly. ‘She came home. Up the lane.’
‘Be quiet, Jackie! Don’t tell me any more lies.’
‘Oh, Mary, please—you’re overwrought,’ Tessa began as Mary got up and paced restlessly to the window. ‘Have you told the police?’
‘Jim’s down in Marchfield now. I was waiting until he got back, and if you came we were going out again to search. Perhaps some of the other children saw her—oh, how I wish there hadn’t been a holiday today—that blasted by-electi
on. If they’d been at school this would never have happened.’
She came back to the fireside. ‘Since we came to live here Jackie’s got in with a gang of older boys, little ruffians, all of them, and he’s turned terribly disobedient. All I can get out of him is that they went to look for wood for a bonfire—’
‘But Guy Fawkes is past—’
‘They’re keeping it going—they nearly set a rick on fire last week. They’re the torment of every farmer in the neighbourhood. I can’t budge Jackie from his story that he left Susan at the end of the lane and she was coming home. Of course he arrived back at three, with no Susan. Jim got in at half-past and blew his top. Some boys had broken into the apple store and then tried to set a tractor going, so he was in a temper without this on top. Anyway, Joanna—my neighbour down the lane—had seen Jackie set Susan back up the lane, and Susan refusing to go, but of course she took no notice with them being so near home.’ Mary paused, her glance straying to the window again.
‘Where did Jackie and the boys go?’ asked Tessa.
‘Right up to Coombe Spinney. It’s nearly two miles away. Here’s Jim now.’ Mary jumped up. ‘Will you stay here and keep an eye on things? I can’t ask Joanna—hers are down with whooping cough and mine have escaped so far.’
Jim entered, his burly figure dwarfing the room, and shook his head at Mary’s wordless glance. ‘No news. At least no child answering to Susan’s description has been admitted to Marchfield hospital today. So that’s one fear ruled out.’
He tossed his cap on a chair and sat down at the table. ‘Anyway, the call’s gone out. If only we had a clue where to start. She could have wandered anywhere.’ With jerky movements he lit a cigarette and flipped the match into the fire. Mary had put on her coat and knotted a scarf over her head.
‘Yes, let’s go.’ Jim stood up and fastened his heavy blue melton jacket. ‘You go down to Briggs’s farm while I go round by Dixon’s and up to that queer old couple who’ve taken the Major’s place. I’ll cut through the spinney and meet you at the filling station. We can ring the police from there to see if there’s any news.’
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