Sweet Compulsion

by Woolf, Victoria

  `In her clothes ?' asked Marcy wryly.

  `Anthea won't mind that,' said Chumble, her face softening. 'She's a kind girl. Silly at times, but goodhearted.'

  Marcy looked at her through her lashes. 'Did Randal come in?'

  Chumble looked sour. 'I sent him off with a flea in his ear.'

  `He behaved very badly,' said Marcy. 'He deliberately took a dangerous jump just to show off because I said Perry rode well.'

  Chumble gave her a curious look. 'What did you say to -him ?'

  `I hit him as hard as I could,' Marcy admitted, her face defiant.

  `Ah,' said Chumble, smiling. 'Then you burst into tears and ran away, did you?'

  . Marcy blushed. 'Oh, Chumble, I think I must be in love. I felt so frightened when he took that jump. I thought I would die if anything happened to him, and I was so mad when he rode up, grinning like a fool, that I could have killed him!'

  Chumble smiled lovingly at her. 'Eat your breakfast, Miss Marcy. I'll keep him busy downstairs, don't worry.'

  Marcy ate as much as she could, but her appetite had oddly deserted her, and she sat brooding in her room until she heard the sound of voices in the hall, and guessed Anthea had arrived. Slowly, nervously, she went out and begun to go downstairs.

  Randal was in the hall, kissing a dark girl of her own age, but at the sound of her arrival he turned, his

  face flushed and anxious, to look at her, and the girl beside him stared, too.

  Ignoring Randal, Marcy smiled at her as she joined them. Anthea was slim and elegant in a pale blue linen suit, her dark hair softly curling around a fresh-coloured face. Blue eyes like Randal's looked Marcy up and down, and a puzzled look came into her face as she took stock of the cream dress Marcy was wearing.

  `Yes,' said Marcy frankly, 'It's yours. Randal didn't like my clothes, so he insisted I borrowed some of yours. I'm sorry.'

  Anthea gave a faint giggle. 'I don't mind,' she said. `It looks very good on you. Keep them. I've spent a fortune on new ones in Geneva and I shall have to throw out some of the clothes I had before to make room for them.' She gave Randal a saucy look. 'I overdrew my allowance, brother dear, but as you're radiantly happy you won't mind, will you?'

  Randal wasn't even looking at her. His blue eyes on Marcy's averted face, he was intent on studying her.

  Anthea gave another little giggle. 'I was dreading telling him how much I owe all the way from Switzerland,' she told Marcy. 'What a relief now it's over! I've been reading all about you in the English papers, and Perry tells me you're fun. You're in my room, aren't you? Is Chumble putting me in the airing cupboard ?'

  `No,' said Marcy. 'Come on and I'll show you where you're sleeping. Then I must go and help

  Chumble get lunch. She's overworked with so many of us in the house.'

  Anthea groaned. 'I hope that doesn't mean I have to help with cooking. Perry tells me he's been peeling potatoes. This I must see!'

  `Even worse, you'll have to eat them,' said Marcy. `He leaves lots of peel and eyes on them.'

  The two girls went upstairs talking together while Perry, puffing bitterly, staggered in with Anthea's luggage. He shouted after her, 'Why didn't you bring a whole planeload while you were at it? What have you got in them? Rocks?'

  `I told you to take body-building exercises,' Marcy informed him over her shoulder, saying confidentially to Anthea, 'Poor Perry, he's so out of condition. All he does is drive around in that crazy car of his and spend all his income on piranhas.'

  `Piranhas ?' asked Anthea incredulously.

  `Girls,' Marcy explained. 'They like high life, apparently, and once he's spent his all on them they vanish.'

  Anthea looked back at Perry. 'Silly idiot!'

  `Isn't he?' Marcy grinned. She threw open the door of the room designed for Anthea. 'I made up the bed for you.'

  Anthea bounced on the mattress. 'Oh, lovely, feathers! I'll just sink into them as if I was in a snowdrift.'

  `Did you ski in Switzerland much ?' Marcy asked. `Every day,' Anthea nodded. `Do you ski ?'

  `I don't do anything except help Chumble with the

  lunch,' Marcy laughed. 'And I must do that now, I'm afraid. I'll see you later.'

  Anthea's voice halted her as she reached the door. `Are you really going to marry Randal ?'

  Marcy looked back at her, her green eyes sober. `Would you mind if I did ?'

  `Good lord, no. You seem to fit in beautifully,' said Anthea. Perry's a fathead, but I trust his judgment on some things, and he sings your praises very highly.'

  Marcy smiled. 'I like him, too.' And she vanished without another word

  Perry was sulkily peeling potatoes in the kitchen when she arrived. She gave him a grin and began to help Chumble. Randal wandered into the room and was chased out at once by Chumble's irate voice.

  `Too many people in this room already, Randal. , Go and chase your sister up. Lunch will be ready in ten minutes.'

  It was a cheerful, noisy meal: Perry and Anthea began a long argument about a pop star during the second course, and their loud voices drowned Randal's intent silence, and Marcy's quiet conversation with Lady Anne about Grimshaw.

  Afterwards, Perry volunteered Anthea to help with the washing up, and was counter-volunteered by her, in revenge, to help with the drying up. Chumble swept them both away with her, softly chiding them, as they squabbled.

  Lady Anne put a hand to her head. 'I think I'll walk down to the village-I need some fresh air. Randal, much as I love your sister, if she and Perry are going

  to make that racket all the time I shall be very relieved when she leaves.'

  Left' alone, Marcy got up to escape, but Randal caught her hand. 'I'm sorry I made such a fool of myself over that jump,' he said huskily. 'It was a stupid thing to do, but I've taken it before, darling. I hunt, you know. I wasn't being completely crazy.'

  She wriggled her hand out of his grip and went out into the garden, breathing in the soft summer afternoon, the fragrance of the roses giving that warm scented sweetness to the whole garden.

  Wandering down through the lawns to the round goldfish pond, she sat down on the low whitestone wall, staring at the dark green lily pads with their smooth white flowers.

  On the surface of the water Randal's face was outlined shadowily as he joined her. He sat down, staring at her profile.

  `Are you very angry with me?' he asked humbly. `I was,' she said, sliding one thin finger into the

  water and flicking the cool drops over the pond.

  He bent and kissed her elbow softly. 'Forgive me,'

  he whispered, kissing it again.

  Marcy turned, flicking water at him teasingly. `Make me,' she said breathlessly.

  Randal's face changed, and an incredulous passion came into his blue eyes. He pulled her towards him, and Marcy surrendered, knowing exactly what she was doing, her whole slender body given to him, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks, her heart thudding.

  His kiss sent quivers of wild excitement along her

  veins. She kissed him back, winding her slender arms around his neck. Against her mouth he murmured her name

  `I love you,' he whispered.

  She drew back her mouth, looking up at him through her lashes, seeing the restless, eager look on his tough face.

  `I love you, Randal,' she said softly.

  For a moment he was still, breathing more and more heavily, then his mouth swept `own to her and his arms held her so hard she couldn't breathe.

  Later, he looked down at the lily pond, and a grin came into his face. 'How apt it should be here,' he said to himself.

  She was puzzled `Why?'

  He stroked her cheek with a finger. 'I'll show you one day,' he said. 'When will you marry me, Marcy ?'

  `When you like,' she said, knowing it no longer mattered to her that she had known so little of life before she met him. When he risked his life to jump the holly hedge she had known in a flash that anything else she found in life would have no validity apart fro
m him.

  He laughed huskily. 'My God, you're tempting me! I'd say tomorrow, but I doubt if the family would approve. I suppose it will have to be the full works.'

  She looked alarmed. 'Oh, no, Randal. Can't we just get married ?'

  `That's how I would like it,' he agreed. 'But what about everyone else? Anthea is no doubt already planning her wedding outfit.'

  `I'd like to get married in the church in the village,'

  she said. 'A quiet wedding with just a few people there.'

  Randal gazed at her, his heart in his eyes. 'Sure you wouldn't regret a big London wedding ?'

  `I'd hate it,' she admitted.

  His face set obstinately. 'Then a quiet country wedding it shall be, my love. When ?'

  She leaned her head against his shoulder. 'As soon as possible,' she said.

  His arms held her, his hand possessive on her bright hair. 'Yes,' he said huskily, 'as soon as possible.'

  It did not work out exactly as planned. Marcy's own warm nature made it impossible from the start. When a list of guests was discussed she insisted on inviting Sim and Lisa, Russell, Wesley and his mother, Dost Mohammed and a dozen others. Randal wanted to argue, but he was too intent on getting the wedding over. A busload of Paradise Street was to arrive. Anthea and Perry helped with the family list, which began to grow at an alarming rate, as distant cousins in outer Britain were put down as essential guests. Randal looked more and more grim.

  `Quiet wedding ?' he murmured. 'It's going to be a riot !'

  He had to return to London, leaving Anthea and Marcy staying at Lady Anne's, relieved that at least Perry had gone back to work. Julia Hume winkled out of Perry enough of the picture to be icily restrained when she spoke to Randal, contenting herself with a few smiling asides referring to Marcy's age and

  odd friends. Randal bore these with equanimity, inwardly intent upon the last kiss he had exchanged with Marcy, remembering with sickening hunger the softness of her body in his arms and the look she had given him.

  The Campion Project was well on the way to being finalised as the architect drew up plans which left the site as a central core to the whole of the new development. Andrew McAllister, summoned to see Randal, was crisply warned against the sort of behind-the scenes dealing he had been involved in, and left chastened and sullen. The press, through Russell, pursued Marcy to Somerset, but drew a blank when Grimshaw, growling like a wild bear, chased them off the ground with a pitchfork, threatening to bring out a shotgun if they came back.

  Anthea and Marcy rapidly made friends as the wedding plans progressed. Anthea helped Marcy to choose the design of her wedding dress, watched as she underwent fittings, exclaimed with delight as she saw her in the finished dress and was thrilled about her own bridesmaid's dress. Marcy had decided to have just one bridesmaid. She had no girl friends of her own to choose from among.

  `You could have Perry as a pageboy,' Anthea giggled.

  The two girls fell about, laughing, and Chumble gave them a glance of indulgent despair.

  It was a warm summer morning when Marcy stood in the bedroom at the Somerset house, as slender as a flower, in her white dress of lace and silk, watching as Chumble tenderly pressed the crown of lily of the

  valley and pearls down over her long veil, her gnarled fingers shaking.

  `You're white, child,' she said, gazing into Marcy's small face.

  `I'm petrified,' Marcy gasped, trying to smile.

  Chumble produced a small silver flask. 'You take a small glass of this, Miss Marcy. I remember Miss Natalie shaking like a leaf on her wedding day and it steadied her.'

  Marcy giggled. 'You don't want me to be drunk on my wedding day, Chumble.'

  Chumble pressed the small glass to her lips. The fiery liquid made her choke, then it ran through her veins. 'Brandy,' she said, laughing.

  Marcy was to be given away by Sim. He was waiting in the hall, very distinguished in frock coat and silver-grey hat, as she came down the stairs.

  Her selection of him to give her away had brought out one of Randal's brief moments of jealousy, but she had soothed it away easily enough, and now she smiled at Sim, the wide, radiant, childlike smile which made her small face so beautiful.

  Sim had tears in his eyes as he pressed her hand against his arm in the wedding car. 'Lisa's pregnant,' he whispered. 'She's expecting in the spring.'

  Marcy turned her smile to him, her eyes glowing with pleasure. 'Oh, I'm so glad, Sim!'

  `Mark if it's a boy, Marcy if it's a girl,' he said, as he had told her before.

  `And is your mother happy ?'

  `Happy ?' His eyes danced. 'Her fingers ache from knitting baby shoes and coats! She nags Lisa ragged

  about iron pills and afternoon rests. And Russell's beginning to have a hunted look because every time she sees him she begins to talk about Michelle.'

  Marcy laughed. 'I miss Paradise Street. I was happy there,' she said with a sigh.

  Sim gave her an odd glance. 'Aren't you happy now, Marcy ?' His eyes were worried.

  Her face shone. 'Happy ? Oh, Sim, I'm so happy I'm afraid. It seems so incredible, the way I feel, that I can't help thinking it's a dream.'

  He smiled tenderly. 'He's kept all his promises, your man. The Campion Project is going to make a big difference to Paradise Street. Somewhere for the kids to play, for the adults to meet. He's a lot more human than I ever suspected.'

  Her smile was filled with secrets. 'Yes, Randal's very human,' she agreed.

  `Lucky, too,' Sim added doggedly. 'He already had everything life could offer him. Now he's got you, too.'

  Marcy looked down at the floating bridal lace and silk, the delicacy of her bouquet, and her heart thudded as she thought of the night ahead. The wedding was merely a bridge—the path by which she and Randal could come to the moment of utter happiness when they would belong together. She wished it was over already.

  She walked into the small village church through a throng of smiling, curious faces and a battery of cameras which flashed around her, lighting the summer morning air.

  The organ began to play and she walked down the narrow aisle of the packed congregation towards Randal's dark head, her knees trembling, making each step an effort. Randal turned slightly and he looked at her, his face so white she thought he must be going to faint, but there was a blaze of triumph in the blue eyes which reminded her oddly of the moment when he rode back to her after taking the tall holly hedge.

  The service began and, like a soft-voiced child, she repeated the words and performed the actions she had been taught, feeling Randal's hand shake as he slid the ring on to her thin finger.

  Walking back out of the church some time later she saw faces which smiled at her, and somehow she smiled back, although she was trembling with nerves. Wesley's wide grin she remembered for a long time, his impudent grin and wink, as though he considered her clever to have pulled off such a coup.

  `You ain't going to forget Paradise Street, are you, Marcy ?' asked Luke Green during the noisy, crowded reception. 'You'll come and see us all some time ?'

  She nodded seriously. 'Campion House is my family house, don't forget, Luke. I want to make sure it's used for the people of Paradise Street from now on, especially the children. No more playing around dustbins if I can help it . .

  Chumble sought her out a while later and whispered, 'Time to change, child.'

  Obediently Marcy followed her upstairs. Anthea

  wanted to come, but Chumble said firmly, `Marcy's over-excited as it is, Anthea. Go and tease Perry, but leave her alone.'

  In the quiet bedroom she stood childlike as Chumble helped her to shed the pure white lace and silk wedding dress, watching as Chumble carefully wrapped it in tissue paper and laid it on the bed. `You looked beautiful,' Chumble said with a sigh.

  `Oh, Chumble,' she said excitedly, her face flushed, `I'm so nervous!'

  Chumble slid her into the elegant little green dress and coat she was wearing to go on her honeymoon, her gnarled hands gent
le. 'Randal will look after you,' she said. 'Trust Randal.'

  `I do,' said Marcy, her breath catching.

  She barely noticed the next few moments as they somehow fought their way to the silver-blue limousine through photographers, reporters and guests. She was shivering with fright, tense and nervous, as the car finally drove away, clattering because Perry had fastened a collection of tin cans, kettles and old boots to it with string.

  `Damn him,' said Randal under his breath, but drove on, with the clatter following them. 'We'll have to search the luggage carefully. I've no doubt he's filled the cases with confetti.'

  `I expect Anthea did that,' said Marcy, giggling. `They work as a team.'

  `My sister's nearly as crazy as he is,' said Randal. `If you don't watch out, Perry will marry her,' Marcy murmured.

  Randal swore and she jumped. 'Randal!'

  `You're kidding, of course,' he said, 'The idea turns one's brain to jelly.'

  Marcy wasn't kidding. But she said nothing. She somehow didn't imagine Perry was in any hurry to settle down, and certainly Anthea was eager to launch herself on the joys of London before she even considered the future. Her suspicions might be wildly inaccurate. If they weren't . . . well, time would solve that problem. No point in upsetting Randal at this juncture.

  He drove into a layby and cut the strings Perry had tied to the bumper, throwing the objects into a handy trash can, then he climbed back into the car and glanced at her.

  `Where are we going for our honeymoon ?' she asked him shyly. 'You still haven't told me.'

  He grinned at her. 'A farmhouse which belongs to a friend of mine,' he said. 'Half an hour from here. It's remote and peaceful and not a soul will find us.' Then he started the car again and drove on, whistling between his teeth.

  She eyed him with Chumble's grim air of reproof. `I distinctly heard you tell Russell we were going abroad!'

  `Teach him to ask questions,' said Randal, unabashed.

  `You're quite ruthless, aren't you ?' she murmured, a faint smile on her face.