One Who Kisses

by Marjorie Lewty

  'Corfe Castle?' Jules piped up. 'That's where the dinosaur's footprints are. It says so in my book. Uncle Piran promised to take me to see them, but he's always too busy.'

  Aubrey laughed. 'Shame! You'll have to come to my house some time, Jules. My father knows all about dinosaurs.'

  Polly said, 'I'll go up to Piran's room and see if he's still working.'

  A minute or two later she was back, shaking her head. 'He must have gone out without my seeing him. Jules and I have been in the garden.'

  'Never mind, I'll wait if I may. I don't suppose he'll be long.'

  An hour passed, and Piran hadn't returned. Aubrey was easy to talk to and after the strained silences in Piran's company it was a relief to Polly to be able to make a remark without wondering, first, if it would give offence. Aubrey talked interestingly, mostly about Dorset, where he had been born and brought up. He seemed quite impressed when Polly showed a knowledge of the history of Corfe Castle, and Jules had to hear all over again about the murder of the young King Edward there and much later the siege of the castle by Cromwell's soldiers.

  At last Aubrey got to his feet. 'My mother has some people coming to dinner tonight and I mustn't linger any longer, much though I'd like to. It's been great talking to a girl who's intelligent as well as charming. I've enjoyed myself immensely.' His nice grey eyes smiled appreciatively.

  They moved to the front door. 'Tell Piran I'm sorry to have missed him. I'll ring him in the morning and we'll fix up to meet. He'll be glad to know that everything seems to be sewn up and it only has to be finalised now.' He glanced over his shoulder to where Jules was playing with Judy, the Labrador, in the garden. 'The letter from the boy's mother, more or less agreeing to anything, carried a lot of weight with the Court. Poor kid, she's not interested in her son, it would seem. And of course it was darned lucky for Jules that Piran met you and that he could offer to provide a real family background for the boy. That probably tipped the scale.'

  Polly said brightly, 'Yes, it was very well timed, wasn't it?' She held out her hand. 'Goodbye, Aubrey, I'll tell Piran you were here and you'll ring him tomorrow.'

  She watched the car disappear down the drive and went thoughtfully back into the house.

  Half an hour later Piran returned. Polly was in the dining room, setting the table for supper, and he went straight over and poured himself a drink. He tossed it off and poured a second one, placed it on the corner of the high oak mantleshelf and regarded Polly in silence. He often did this now—stood silently watching her while she went about her tasks, and it made her want to scream. Now she said, without looking at him, 'Aubrey came when you were out, earlier on.'

  'Ah,' he said. 'You were able to entertain him most pleasurably, I'm sure.' The words were almost a sneer.

  She spun round, a bunch of cutlery in her hand. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

  He picked up his glass and looked into it thoughtfully. 'I've noticed that you and Aubrey get on very well, that's all.'

  'I like Aubrey,' said Polly. 'He's a very agreeable companion.'

  'And I'm not, I take it?'

  She began to place knives carefully on the white tablecloth. 'I wouldn't call you agreeable,' she said. 'But no doubt you don't consider it necessary to make yourself agreeable to me.' She turned round and faced him, taking her courage in both hands. He had made this opportunity for her—now she must grasp it.

  'And while we seem to be on the subject,' she said calmly, 'and while Aubrey is here, I think we should consider how best to—to arrange for our marriage to end. I seem to have fulfilled my purpose, now that the custody of Jules is granted to you. He's a happy little boy now and he doesn't depend on me as he did at first. He'll be starting school after half-term, as you know, and he's already made friends with one or two of the small boys in the village.' She felt the treacherous tears prick behind her eyes and turned her head away as she added, 'I daresay he'll miss me a bit at first, but children soon forget.'

  She didn't see the expression on his face, but his voice was harsh as he said, 'And what if I don't intend that you should leave?'

  The remainder of the silver fell to the table with a clatter. 'But—but it was all arranged! We said that the marriage was only going to last until you could get custody of Jules.'

  'You said so,' Piran said curtly. 'I didn't.'

  Polly felt her knees go weak and she pulled out a chair from under the dining table. This was something she had never for a moment expected. She had thought he would be glad to be rid of her, relieved to break out of the strained difficult atmosphere that prevailed when they were forced into each others' company.

  'I don't understand,' she whispered, gripping the chair-back with both hands. 'Why won't you let me go?'

  He shrugged and took a swig of his drink. 'Let's just say it doesn't suit me at the moment.' His voice was arrogant—contemptuous, she thought.

  Suddenly Polly was blazingly angry. She rounded on him, thumping the table. 'You've got to let me go—you promised! What sort of a life is this for me here?—I don't want to stay with you. When I marry I want a real marriage, with—with love and warmth and consideration. I want a man who can love me—not a cold, arrogant—beast!' Her voice was shaking wildly and the tears were scalding her eyes.

  'Someone like Aubrey Pont, for instance?' he sneered. Polly wondered if she had heard aright. He couldn't be—jealous, could he? No, of course not, he was just being petty. He didn't want her himself, but he didn't want any other man to look at her.

  She raised her head defiantly. 'Yes, someone like Aubrey. Aubrey's a darling.'

  'Aubrey's a darling!' he mimicked nastily. 'Well, at least he's had the good sense to steer clear of marriage so far. But to get back to your request, the answer's no.'

  'But—but why? She had to know—somehow she must make him tell her. She beat her hands on the back of a chair. 'Why, Piran?'

  He leaned towards her and gripped both her shoulders. 'Shall I tell you why?' His eyes were sombre as they gazed into her own and she felt all the old magnetism return at his touch. She wanted, insanely, to cry out, 'No, I don't want to know anything—I just want to be near you, to see you every day, to be part of your life, on whatever terms.'

  'Polly—' he began.

  A movement at the french window behind them made them both spin round and Piran dropped his hands. Esmée Clark stood there, looking incredibly beautiful in a black-and-white striped silk shirt and tight black trousers, her hair gleaming silver in the evening light.

  'Sorry if I'm interrupting something,' she said smoothly. She walked across the room to Piran. 'You left your watch on the shelf in my shower-room, darling.' She held it out. 'I thought you might be wanting it. Hullo, Polly, and how's the little governess getting along?'

  Her smile was silky, sliding across her perfect mouth insincerely. It was a question intended to be insulting, and Polly caught her breath, stiffening at what was patently an attack. She glanced at Piran, letting herself hope for just one moment that he would defend her. She was his wife—she had the right to expect that much. He could destroy Esmée Clark with one word—one look—if he cared.

  But he merely took the watch from Esmée's hand and slipped it into his pocket, saying nothing. Polly lifted her head high and went out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  Up in her bedroom she sat on the bed, shivering. She couldn't take much more, she had to get away soon. For a moment, just now, she had let herself imagine that Piran might be going to suggest that they should give their marriage another chance, but of course she had been mistaken. She couldn't guess what he had been going to tell her, but certainly it wasn't that. Probably he was going to make use of her, and their marriage, in some other way that suited him. Could she turn to Aubrey, tell him the truth and ask him to help her? Was there any way she could divorce Piran, unless he agreed to it? Could she use his relationship with Esmée Clark? Everything inside her revolted against trying such a course.

  She sat there until it was qui
te dark. Jules had gone out to tea with one of the little boys in the village—the son of the local doctor—and Piran was supposed to be calling for him. She wondered if he would remember or if he had gone off again with Esmée. But even as she wondered that she heard his car crunch on the gravel below and Jules's voice raised excitedly in the hall, telling of all he had done that afternoon.

  Her whole body aching with tiredness, Polly pulled herself to her feet. There was her job to be done while she remained here. She went down to give Jules his supper and see him into bed.

  She passed Piran on his way upstairs. As they met he seemed to hesitate and was about to say something, but she went straight on, not looking at him. A moment later she heard the door of his room close with a vicious slam.

  Polly and Jules had supper together and Piran didn't put in an appearance at all. Afterwards she cleared away the dirty dishes, left the salad and cold meat covered on the table and devoted herself to Jules until it was his bedtime. After that she went to her room and stayed there. From this room she couldn't hear Piran's typewriter or his voice speaking into the dictation machine, and she didn't know whether he was in or out. Probably he had gone back to Esmée. She felt cold as a stone inside and her head was hot and aching. She wondered if she were going to be really ill. It seemed unlikely; she was hardly ever ill, and she certainly couldn't afford to be ill now. Tomorrow, come what might, she was going to resolve this agonising situation.

  But again fate seemed to be against her. On going down to prepare breakfast she found a note propped up against the telephone in Piran's black, bold handwriting. 'Gone to London to see publisher,' it said. 'Back tomorrow, probably about midday. Piran.'

  A frustrated sigh escaped Polly. She had lain awake most of the night, working herself up to a final confrontation, and now—this. She thumped the table in her exasperation. Then she thought of Aubrey. Had he gone back to London, or was he still at his home in Corfe? She picked up the telephone and as she dialled his number she thought childishly, If he's there I shall tell him everything and ask him to advise and help me. If he's gone—I don't know what I shall do. Helpless tears pricked at her eyes.

  'Hullo—who's that?' a sleepy voice answered the phone. And then, on her reply, 'Polly! But how splendid!' in a much more wide-awake tone. 'You caught me sleeping in. My parents are away for a couple of days and I'm indulging myself.'

  Not giving herself time to think, Polly said, 'Aubrey, are you free this morning? Could you come over—there's something—' she broke off, biting her lip hard.

  There was a tiny pause. Then, 'Polly, what's up? Are you O.K.?'

  She pulled herself together as Jules came running up to her. 'Oh yes, everything's fine. Piran's gone to London, and I just wondered if—' she improvised wildly, '—if perhaps you could take Jules to see the dinosaur's footprints, as you suggested.'

  'Done! I'll be with you in twenty minutes flat.' There was no mistaking Aubrey's enthusiasm for the idea, and Polly breathed in relief.

  It was the strangest of days for Polly. Aubrey Pont was the most charming of companions, and he set himself out to give both her and Jules a good time. First he took them back to his parents' home—a beautiful house, built of grey Purbeck stone, standing in a spacious wooded garden below the grey, broken pile of Corfe Castle high up on the hill above. The weather had turned warm again—almost an Indian summer—and they made coffee and drank it sitting on the terrace while Aubrey raided his mother's freezer and found ice-cream for Jules, and a bone for Judy. It was all so peaceful and happy and Polly felt the ragged tension of the last weeks seeping away. She lay back in her hammock chair and closed her eyes, while Jules played with Judy on the lawn, and the wood-pigeons, thinking it was still summer, called from the distance. I won't ask Aubrey yet, she thought. Let me have this last, lovely day.

  And, against all the odds, it was a lovely day. Aubrey took it for granted that they would all spend the day together, and he took charge of the proceedings. Later in the morning they visited the tiny cave-like museum in the village street and Jules at last saw the fossils of the dinosaur's footsteps, to his awe and delight. After exploring the village, with its tourist shops not yet all closed for the winter, they went back to the house and put together a picnic lunch, which they ate out of doors again.

  'What next?' Aubrey enquired, when Jules had had his afternoon rest on the sofa indoors. 'I suggest that we might climb up and explore the castle ruins, they're quite spectacular. Or if it's too far for Jules to get to the top we could get as far as the Martyr's Gate, where King Edward was killed. Then we'll come back here for tea, park Judy, and end the day at the Mowlem in Swanage. They're showing The Sound of Music once again there. How about it? Would that be too late for Jules?'

  'Oh no, please, let's go,' Jules pleaded eagerly, and added in his quaint, old-fashioned little voice, 'I can sleep longer tomorrow.'

  And so it came about that it was after ten o'clock as they finally drove in Aubrey's white sports car, with the hood down, and the evening scents drifting on the warm air, back along the narrow country roads towards Piran's home, Jules snuggling comfortably between them and Judy packed into the luggage boot behind. 'The hills are alive with the sound of music,' Polly sang, and Aubrey joined in, and it wasn't until the car finally turned in at the drive that she realised that the whole of this pleasant, friendly day had passed and she hadn't done what she intended to do—ask Aubrey's help.

  Now the dark pile of the house rose up against the lighter velvet of the starlit sky and she knew she couldn't spoil this lovely day.

  'Thank you so much, Aubrey. We've all enjoyed ourselves so much.'

  The car stopped and he switched off the engine. 'Me too,' he said. 'Thank you for making the last day of my holiday so rewarding. It was a brilliant idea.' He glanced up at the house. 'Are you all alone here tonight—Piran's not coming home?'

  'Not until tomorrow,' she said.

  One hand on the door he hesitated, glancing down at Jules's head, drooping sleepily back against the cushioned seat. 'Polly, I have to ask you this—is everything all right—between you and Piran, I mean? I've thought lately that perhaps you weren't too happy. Tell me to shut my mouth if I'm wrong, but if there's any way I could help, then—'

  Now was the moment. Now she could say, 'I do want your help, Aubrey. That's why I rang you up this morning.' And she could ask him to come into the house, while she put Jules to bed, and then she could tell him everything.

  But the words wouldn't come. She heard herself laugh lightly. 'You're a dear, Aubrey, and there has been a bit of misunderstanding, but everything's all right now.'

  Almost before the words were out a light snapped on in the hall and the front door was flung open. Piran stood there for a moment, his tall body black and forbidding against the light flooding out from behind. Then he was across the gravel in a couple of strides, and his rage seemed to vibrate in the still air.

  Polly felt a grip of steel on her arm and she was yanked out of the car. A moment later Jules was beside her, clinging sleepily to her hand, not quite sure, mercifully, about what was going on.

  Piran's voice was low and menacing, close to her ear. 'Get into the house and get Jules to bed. I'll deal with you later.'

  Aubrey had come round from his side of the car. 'Now look here, old chap, there's no need to—'

  Polly heard Piran snarl, 'Go to hell, you—' before she ran for the front door, pulling Jules along with her.

  Somehow she managed to get Jules into bed, with a warm drink. She moved like an automaton, speaking to him quietly when he seemed a little nervous and upset. 'Uncle Piran was angry, wasn't he? Didn't he want us to go and see the dinosaur's footprints?'

  'Yes, of course he did, darling. He was tired, that was all, he's had a long journey. You'll be able to tell him all about it in the morning. Now, you settle down and go off to sleep. It's been a lovely day, hasn't it?'

  'Ooh yes,' he yawned. 'Lovely day. Uncle Piran come up to say goodnight?'

 
; 'I'll go and ask him,' said Polly.

  She had to force her feet to take her down the stairs. She winced away from seeing Piran's cold, furious face, and she felt sick and shaky. But somehow she went into the snug, where she expected to find him.

  'Jules is ready to settle off,' she said tonelessly. 'He would like you to go up and say goodnight to him.'

  She couldn't bring herself to look at him. He said nothing at all, but turned and went out of the room. Polly put out a hand and clung to the carved edge of the mantelshelf. What should she do now? Where should she go? She couldn't stay here another night. She turned this way and that, like a terrified small animal looking for escape.

  Piran came back into the room, closed the door and stood with his back to it. He looked terrible. His face was drawn and haggard, his hair tousled, and there were dark lines under his eyes. She sensed that his anger had worn itself out.

  He glanced at her and away again quickly. Then he poured himself a small drink and tossed it down. Polly waited, her head throbbing.

  At last he said, 'I can't take any more of this. I've been out scouring the cliffs and the heath for you for the last two hours.'

  'I didn't think—' she began, but he cut in violently. 'No, you didn't think, did you? You never would think, you never would understand.' He passed a hand over his brow and rubbed a spot on his temple as if it were hurting.

  And suddenly Polly realised what he had suffered when he came home and found them both gone. He must have thought that history was repeating itself, that he had lost Jules in the same way that he had lost his own son.

  She longed to put her arms round him and tell him she did, indeed, understand, that she would never in this world do anything that would put Jules at risk. But her arms remained tautly by her side. He wouldn't want her sympathy. He didn't love her.

  He sighed deeply. 'It isn't working out, Polly, it had better end. I'd like you to leave tomorrow. You can think of something to tell Jules.' He spoke slowly, with infinite tiredness, and it was so much worse than if he had been angry.