Tessa stiffened under Nicholas’s am.
‘However, I had little choice,’ Angie continued sadly, ‘so I married him for your sake, Tessa. And while I grew to love him and we were very happy, it doesn’t alter the fact that I almost ruined my life through sheer youthful hot-headedness. Now do you understand?’
Tessa did not hear. The heartbreaking implication of Angie’s stark revelation hammered into her entire being. Blindly she struggled from Nicholas’s grasp, her only conscious thought to escape. To escape from the hands and eyes that were closing in on her.
Suddenly aghast, Angie buried her face in her hands. For a long moment Tessa stared down at the bowed golden head with something akin to hatred in her eyes. Then heedless of Nicholas’s cry and Martin’s restraining hand she stumbled towards the door. The staircase was a dark endless well up which she could hide. Her father ... She couldn’t believe it. It was a nightmare...
The shaft of light from the opening door fell across her bed. She turned away and huddled into the pillow.
‘Honey.’ It was Martin’s voice. ‘I’m going to try to help you.’ He did not touch her, but seated himself quietly on the dressing table stool. When she gave no sign of having heard him, he said, ‘Let those tears come first, then we’ll try to deal with these more unpleasant things.’
She moved a little in the darkness, and he went on:
‘One thing is beyond my power of help. The damage has been done—needlessly. But the big problem can be solved, I’m sure. If you’ll listen to me, Tessa.’
This raised the white anguished face and brought the broken words tumbling. ‘He wasn’t my father—I can never forgive her for that.’
‘No, little one.’ Martin’s voice was low. ‘For destroying your illusions.’ He reached for her as the healing tears came at last, and held her firmly until she stilled under his hands. He brought her a glass ‘of water and two tablets, and instructed, ‘Now take these, and listen to me. You are going to marry Nicholas.’
‘But Angie won’t...’ The despair came back into her face.
‘Angie will.’ Somehow Martin instilled confidence, and hope flickered in Tessa’s heart.
‘There are more ways than one of making a mistake,’ he said strangely. ‘I had a daughter rather like you in my first marriage.’ His gaze passed into the distance and suddenly Tessa knew that this man had known sorrow. He went on, ‘I don’t intend to tell you her story now. Some day I will. But for the moment I want you to trust me. I believe I can persuade your mother to change her mind, but you must promise me that you’ll do nothing crazy like running away or—or going on a bender.’
She nodded mutely, and he said, ‘Now put your feet up.’ He plumped up the pillow behind her head. ‘Let those tablets do their job and try to get some sleep. I shall talk to Nicholas tonight, and tomorrow I shall take Angie away very early. It will be better all round if you don’t see her for a while.’
Tessa stared sleepily at him. Whatever the white tablets were they had certainly acted quickly. A peaceful drowsiness was soothing away the aching heaviness and the throbbing behind her eyeballs.
Martin stood up. ‘I’ll send Nicholas up to say goodnight. I think he’s on the point of throwing us out—not that I blame him.’ Martin’s smile flashed briefly. ‘Now remember, nothing drastic until you hear from me. Promise?’
‘I promise.’ She watched him go, and waited longingly for Nicholas to come to her, bringing the reassurance she so desperately needed.
But long after his goodnight kiss had cooled on her lips, and Meads had enfolded its troubled occupants in slumber, Tessa wakened and lay staring into the darkness. Could Martin keep his confident promise and persuade Angie to relent? And if he didn’t ... Tessa tried to thrust away her fears. Would Nicholas still love her and wait for her? Whatever happened?
The dark December days dragged past, each one seeming suspended in a limbo of mounting tension. How long before they heard from Martin? As the third week began the strain showed in Tessa’s eyes and the withdrawn silences into which Nicholas retreated.
Each longed for, but dared not seek, the comfort of the other’s arms. As Nicholas said one evening, on one of the now rare occasions when they were alone together, they had reached the point of no return. They could only wait and hope.
Dennis breezed in one night and offered his congratulations, asking if he were going to be invited to a wake or a wedding when he saw Tessa’s expression as she explained what had happened. He commiserated cheerfully, and after issuing an invitation to the Christmas frivolities at the Sapphire Caprice departed to meet Christine.
How long ago it all seemed, Tessa thought, stoning raisins for the puddings. Despite the lack of festivity in the air at Meads, Florence doggedly prepared mincemeat and a large cake. There were presents to wrap and post, and Tessa found a small relief in pouring out the whole story in her Christmas letter to Jane.
On the morning of Christmas Eve Nicholas brought home a tree.
‘I’ve invited the Thomases’ youngsters and some of their playmates over this afternoon,’ he announced as he unpacked a box of decorations. ‘Perhaps for a little while the house will feel less like a morgue,’ he added roughly.
Her eyes smarted at the unguarded bitterness in his tone, and she said in a choked voice: ‘I’ll make up a lucky dip for them, and find some small things for prizes for the games.’
He turned suddenly. ‘I’m sorry, my darling, to be such a brute. It’s just as hard for you.’
‘It’s not that—oh, Nicholas, it’s the post,’ she wailed. ‘Bundles and bundles of cards. But the one thing we want isn’t among them.’
‘Come on,’ he urged, ‘help me with the tree’—knowing if he offered comfort Tessa would break down completely.
Nicholas tried to keep a light banter going while they decorated the tree and hung the coloured lamps along the wide beam over the hall. After lunch Tessa put on a gay dress and joined Nicholas and Florence in the lounge to wait the arrival of the children. Ming investigated the Christmas tree and retired grumbling from lie sharp spikes which prickled his nose.
A soft light burned in one corner of the room, illuminating the miniature crib that Nicholas had set up. Tessa looked down at the small painted figures portraying again the loveliest happening of all time and gradually a sense of peace stole into her heart. She was still standing there when Nicholas called from the window:
‘They’ve arrived. And just look at their transport!’ Tessa joined him and saw the red post office van standing outside disgorging a laughing, excited bunch of children. She saw Susan stop and turn back with an air of tremendous importance to take something from the driver. He appeared to be giving the little girl careful instructions, for the small head nodded seriously before she walked to the house.
Suddenly the hall seethed with unwinding scarves, coats, pushed off overshoes, and scuffling infants. Above the babble Susan’s voice shrilled.
‘Brenda’s daddy’s the postman and he brought us all here, but we haven’t to tell the postmaster ‘cos he’s not supposed to.’ She thrust a handful of mail at Tessa and added:
‘He said that this one was special and I had to give it to you first.’ She was holding it carefully and fumbling with the clasp of her small attaché case. ‘And this is my Christmas present to you—Jackie’s got his himself.’
A much handled, grubby little parcel was offered, and Tessa took it automatically, filled with a wild throbbing excitement. Her trembling fingers held the envelope bearing the magic word ‘Cablegram’ in what seemed to her eyes letters of fire.
Scarcely heeding the child, she called to Nicholas. Over her shoulder he watched her open it. In a whisper he read the words aloud.
Santa Cruz. Teneriffe. A merry Xmas. Start ringing those bells. Writing. Love. Martin.
Tessa and Nicholas were brought back to earth by a small, disappointed voice.
‘Don’t you like my present? And why are you laughing and crying at the same time,
Auntie Tessa?’ Tessa turned from Nicholas’s arms and dropped to her knees to gather Susan close.
‘You’ve given me the most wonderful Christmas present I’ve ever had, darling.’
‘But you haven’t opened it yet!’
‘I’m going to—now.’ Tessa unwrapped the parcel and gazed with starry eyes at the handkerchief and the tablet of rose-scented soap. ‘I shall keep this for ever and ever, Susan,’ she said, and meant it.
After the riotous afternoon was over and the stuffed and feted children were dispatched in the care of H.M. Mail, an exhausted Tessa collapsed on to Nicholas’s knee in the big armchair and said wonderingly:
‘How did he succeed?’
Holding her close, Nicholas could not tell her, and it was not until two months later, as the bridal car carried Tessa in her radiance to the church, that her question was finally answered.
Sitting at her side, Martin said suddenly:
‘Tell me, honey, if you wanted to engineer a wedding between two folks how would you set about it?
Behind her veil Tessa’s eyes sparkled. ‘Get them together, of course.’
‘Exactly the answer your mother gave me when I asked her the same question.’ Martin snapped his fingers triumphantly. ‘Only I guess she went one better and put them under the same roof for six months. She couldn’t hold out any longer once that was forced home to her.’
‘Oh, Martin, you’re the most wonderful stepfather a girl could wish for!’ Impulsively she hugged him.
‘Uh-uh! Mind that dress. My name will be mud if I don’t give you away without a hair out of place.’ There was a hush as she entered the church. Then the organ pealed forth. The glorious soaring cadenzas seemed to bear her aloft as she walked down the aisle on Martin’s arm.
Towards the bright future filled with promise awaiting her. And Nicholas.
The Dutch Uncle Page 20