by Betty Neels
‘He thinks you’re lovely, all of you—he said so.’ Victoria frowned a little, remembering. ‘He wanted to know why I was quite different.’
‘Yes, well, it is funny, isn’t it? You’re so much smaller and there’s your hair and you’re almost thin. And look at us, great creatures, all curves and lamppost high—no wonder when we’re talked about you’re always called the other one.’
Victoria smiled. Being the other one was a long-standing joke in the family. ‘Stay there, I’m going down to the kitchen.’
She padded through the still silent house and into the comfortable, cluttered kitchen. Mrs Dupres, the daily help, would be in later on to restore order and tidy up. Victoria put the kettle on, washed up the cups and saucers from the evening before and fetched an enormous teapot from the dresser. It was nice to be home again; she had enjoyed the previous evening, sitting around with the family, talking about hospital and making them laugh about poor old Sister Crow and telling them, rather cautiously, a little about Alexander. Not that she was able to tell them much, for she didn’t know much herself, but at least she had been able to satisfy her mother’s curiosity about where he lived and what he did and who his father was and how old he was.
Her mother had said: ‘He looks a very nice man—rather quiet, but I fancy if he were roused he could display a fine temper.’ And Victoria, remembering that time when he had knocked Jeremy Blake down with hardly a word and almost goodhumouredly, said she didn’t know about that but probably her mother was right, and got up to let in Mabel and George, the family cats, whose advent obligingly provided another topic of conversation.
Her father, a quiet man by nature and more so by virtue of the women milling around the house, had said almost nothing at all, only on their way to bed he had paused on the stairs so that she could catch up with him and had said: ‘I like your young man, or whatever the modern equivalent is these days, Vicky. He’s got a straight eye.’
The kettle boiled and she made the tea, loaded a tray with cups and saucers, laid a smaller tray ready for her father to fetch later, and went back upstairs. As she had expected, all three sisters were now in her room. Louise was sharing the eiderdown with Amabel, but Stephanie had got right into bed. She moved over as Victoria went in and patted the space beside her. ‘Here you are, Vicky—now come and tell us all about him.’
Victoria poured tea for everyone, opened the tin of biscuits she had found in a kitchen cupboard and asked with composure: ‘Who?’
Louise sipped tea. ‘Don’t tease, we’re all dying to hear about him. I think he’s the handsomest man I’ve ever seen. Father says he’ll have him in for dinner and I shall wear that new dress I bought last week, the one with the embroidery round the hem.’
Stephanie gave her sister a little push. ‘Oh, don’t be so silly, Louise, he wouldn’t notice you if you were in cloth of gold. He’s only got eyes for Vicky.’
‘Nonsense,’ said her eldest sister briskly, ‘and anyway, as far as I’m concerned he can look his fill at the lot of you.’ Which wasn’t in the least true.
She had breakfast almost ready by the time her mother, dressed for the day and not a hair out of place, came downstairs. They had the meal all of them together, laughing and talking and occasionally quarrelling a little until their mother begged for a little peace while she puzzled over the meals for the day. ‘Chicken,’ she ruminated, ‘no—a nice piece of beef—and then there’s lunch.’ She looked across the table at her eldest daughter. ‘Will you be in, darling, or is your young man taking you out all day?’
‘Mother,’ Victoria was laughing and protesting too, ‘he’s not my young man, and I don’t know.’
‘I shall ask him,’ her mother decided, and was howled down by all four girls. ‘Mother, you can’t—it’s like telling him he’s got to take her out to lunch! Why don’t you ask him here? or give them a picnic?’
Their mother brightened. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. Vicky…?’
But Vicky, who had heard the bell peal just once, was already on her way to the front door. She had meant to take her time in answering it and greet him with a cool friendliness which would give away nothing of her real feelings; instead she flung the door wide and said joyously: ‘Hullo, come in—we’re a bit late, but I shan’t be a minute.’
He was wearing slacks and a sweater too and anyone less like the elegant successful doctor he was would have been hard to find. He came inside and shut the door behind him and said: ‘Hullo, Vicky,’ and kissed her so quickly and lightly that she wasn’t quite sure if he had. ‘That’s better,’ he said composedly, ‘it seems a long time since yesterday.’
She had no answer to this; only a secret, fervent agreement she had no intention of voicing out loud, but led him into the dining room where the family still sat. They were grouped around the table, her three beautiful sisters and her equally striking mother and father; she wished with all her heart that she could have been tall and fair like the rest of them, so that no man could fail to be stunned by her good looks.
But apparently Alexander could. He wished them a good morning politely, but showed no signs of being stunned, nor of being bowled over by the battery of blue eyes focused upon him. He declined coffee with firm politeness and when Mr Parsons observed: ‘I expect you two want to get off, the island’s lovely at this time of year,’ he replied with courteous brevity, ‘Yes, we should.’
Victoria’s father glanced at her. ‘Take a wind-cheater, Victoria,’ he advised, ‘even if you intend to walk. It’s chilly still and the forecast is for rain.’
‘Yes, Father,’ said Victoria, grateful to him for speeding them on their way, ‘I’ll get one.’
She flew upstairs and because she couldn’t find hers, took Amabel’s instead. It was much too large, but she didn’t care. She got downstairs in time to hear Alexander say: ‘About half past six, then, Mrs Parsons. I’ve got a picnic in the car, but if it’s too cold or wet we can get lunch out.’
She caught her mother’s eye and received a faint shake of the head. So her mother hadn’t asked—thank heaven for that! She gave her parents each a grateful kiss for different reasons, waved to her sisters and went outside with Alexander to where the Mini he had borrowed waited.
They seemed very close to each other in the little car, but then he was such a large man. He sent it down Havelet with the speed of a terrier after a rat and at the bottom turned away from the town, along Fort Road towards St Martins, turning once more presently to dawdle along a narrower road nearer the coast.
‘Pleinmont, I thought,’ he gave her a sideways smile. ‘Do you feel like a walk?’
Victoria nodded. ‘We went there when I was home a few weeks ago. I love it—it’ll be windy.’
She was right. The wind caught at them as they got out of the car and started along the cliff path, so that her hair streamed like a fiery banner around her head. The path was narrow and Alexander went in front, turning to give her a hand where he thought it needful, and she accepted it meekly, not telling him that she had walked the selfsame path since she could toddle and knew every inch of it. They paused presently, to gaze out to sea and watch the waves breaking on the rocks below.
‘Nice.’ Alexander’s voice was contented; he took her arm and went on: ‘If the wind lessens how about taking the boat over to Alderney tomorrow?’
‘Lovely—your friends won’t mind? Or will they come too?’
‘Not tomorrow. Do you know Alderney well?’
‘Yes, though I haven’t been for a year or so.’ She put an impatient hand up to her hair and then let it fall at his quiet: ‘No, let it be, I like it like that.’
She darted a look at him. ‘Just us?’
‘Just us,’ he smiled, and her heart beat faster; she voiced, idiotically, the thought which was uppermost in her mind. ‘We haven’t known each other long.’
He seemed to know what she meant. ‘No. I am an impatient man, Victoria, but for the first time in my life I am prepared to be patient.’
He pulled her close and kissed her cheek; the kiss was somehow reassuring and gentle, just as his touch had been, and yet it somehow gave promise of other kisses to come. Victoria stared up at him, her eyes alight with happiness, longing to put that happiness into words and unable to do so, aware too that there was no need to do so. He laughed a little, caught her by the arm and they went on together; presently he began to tell her about his home and the busy life he led in Holland.
They stopped for coffee at Portelet and walked again, this time along the sandy shore among the rocks, and only turned back unwillingly when the rain which had been threatening began to fall in earnest. Victoria was surprised to find that Alexander knew the island almost as well as she did herself; he tooled the car along the narrow lanes, weaving his way round the coastline until finally he turned towards St Peter Port once more.
‘We can’t picnic,’ he stated decisively. ‘We’ll go to La Fregate and have lunch and see what the weather’s like afterwards.’
Because of the bad weather and the earliness of the season, the restaurant wasn’t full; they had a table by the window and ate grilled lobster tails, followed by spring chicken and salad and lastly Crêpes Soufflés au Citron. They drank a white burgundy and Victoria talked a great deal—and it wasn’t only because of the wine; her companion had some quality which invited confidences; she found herself telling him things which she had never told before, not even to her sisters, and he listened gravely and when she demanded an answer or an explanation or criticism, gave them with a mild undemanding wisdom.
They were drinking their coffee when she stopped suddenly. ‘I talk too much—I must have bored you.’
He answered her seriously. ‘No, that would not be possible, dear girl. I want to know everything there is to know about you.’
‘Oh, do you? I—I want to know about you too.’ She blushed a little as she said it, but met his searching eyes with her own honest ones, and he leaned forward across the table and took one of her hands in his.
‘And so you shall, my darling. Some of it may shock you, no doubt, but I don’t believe in a marriage which isn’t honest.’
Victoria was unable to take her eyes away from his. Her thoughts raced round inside her head like mad things; he had called her his darling which could mean nothing at all—it was after all, a form of address used every hour of the day by people who had no feeling at all for each other—on the other hand, it could mean all the world. And marriage—what had he said about that? She felt bewildered and probably looked it too, for he said, ‘I’m going too fast, aren’t I?’ and let go of her hand, giving her a warm smile as he did so. His voice was gay when he asked:
‘How about going over to Herm—the rain’s stopped.’
It began to rain again on their way across the short stretch of water between the two islands, but they sat uncaring with the helmsman while he and Alexander discussed winds and tides and the pleasures of sailing. Herm seemed deserted when they landed; they told the boatman they would catch the last afternoon boat back and strolled off in the direction of the small group of shops close to the landing stage, to find them unexpectedly crowded with people anxious to come in out of the rain, so they followed the path instead, past the row of cottages and the pub, to the end of the tiny island, and then cut across the springy turf towards Shell Beach, very wet by now, but quite unheeding of it, they walked arm-in-arm while Alexander told Victoria about life in Holland.
When they reached the shore again they pottered about, looking for shells, until, battered by the great wind, Alexander suggested tea at the hotel. They went back across the centre of the island, past the fortified farmhouse with its tiny chapel, and went inside, although they both knew it well from past visits; outside once more, in the little garden before its door, Victoria murmured, thinking out loud: ‘It’s so peaceful, isn’t it?’ and smiled up at her companion, who didn’t answer her but took her in his arms and kissed her hard on her mouth, an action which gave her a thrill of delight and pleasure and left her bewildered by its violence. She uttered a weak ‘Oh’, and he smiled, still without saying anything, and after a moment she smiled too because there was really no need for words between them.
Tea was rather hurried, for they had been dilatory on their way to the hotel and there was no other boat if they should miss the one they had planned to catch. It was the same man at the helm; they sat, one each side of him, not minding the continuing rain at all, discussing their chances of a fine day on the morrow.
Alexander had parked the Mini on the Esplanade. As they got in Victoria said: ‘Mother will want you to come in for a drink.’
He flipped the car into gear and sent it along the road and round the corner and up the hill towards her home. ‘I should like that,’ he sounded very relaxed, ‘if your mother won’t object to my sodden appearance.’
‘I’m wet too—look at me,’ invited Victoria.
‘A tempting invitation, but not on this hill, my girl.’ He swung the car through the gates leading to her home and drew up before the door, which was flung open with such promptitude that she was forced to the conclusion that someone had been on the look out for them. It was Stephanie who welcomed them and Mrs Parsons’ voice, very clear and compelling from the sitting room, bade them go straight in and never mind what they looked like. Everyone was home—the room, lighted by a bright fire and a couple of table lamps, looked homelike and welcoming and Mr Parsons was already on his feet, pouring sherry. He received Victoria’s kiss with fatherly fondness and said over his shoulder:
‘Perhaps you would prefer whisky, Alexander? I may call you that?’
‘Please do, sir, and yes, whisky, I think.’ He went to sit with Mrs Parsons and Victoria settled by her father, while her sisters sat together on the sofa, making a breathtakingly beautiful trio, engrossed in their visitor. Only Louise found time to say in a loud whisper:
‘Vicky, you look like a half-drowned witch,’ and it was unfortunate that she chose to speak at a moment when there was a momentary lull in the talk so that everybody heard it and Alexander looked across the room at Victoria, his eyes dancing. ‘Yes—it’s rather becoming, isn’t it? We seem to have a habit of being out in the rain together.’ He smiled at her, including her in his world with an air of her already being a part of it, anyway, so that her heart sang. ‘We thought we might go to Alderney tomorrow, though they don’t seem to think much of the weather—we can decide in the morning.’ He hadn’t taken his eyes off Victoria’s face; now he lifted enquiring eyebrows and she nodded happily. ‘Shall we use the Sea King?’ she wanted to know. ‘Isn’t it a bit big for two of us to handle?’
He shook his head. ‘No, not a bit of it, she’s a marvellous boat and easy…!’ His remark started off a lively discussion about sailing and he didn’t get up to go for half an hour or more, and then reluctantly.
Stephanie got up with him. ‘I’ll see you out,’ she declared, and Victoria who had been on the point of doing just that, was forced to wish him a cool goodbye from her chair, annoyed to see that he didn’t seem in the least put out because it was Stephanie and not herself who was to see him off the premises. He turned back at the door for a final look and she scowled at him.
Stephanie came dancing back within a minute. She was, thought Victoria, eyeing her little sister smoulderingly, becoming a very pretty girl indeed. By the time she was twenty she would put the rest of them in the shade.
Stephanie met her gaze with a disarming one of her own. ‘You didn’t mind, did you, Vicky? You said this morning that he wasn’t yours…’
‘That will do, Stephanie,’ remarked her mother repressively, ‘and another time remember it’s for Victoria to take Alexander to the door—he was her guest.’
Stephanie made a face. ‘Oh, well—I just wanted to see what he was like, really like, without everyone else there.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘He wasn’t any different.’
From behind his paper her father’s voice came dryly. ‘Naturally not, my dear. When
you’re a little older you will discover that men are only different with—er—certain people.’
‘Girl-friends?’ enquired his daughter.
‘Possibly—supposing you wait and find out for yourself?’
Stephanie went and sat down by the fire. ‘Well, anyway, he’s the nicest man I’ve ever met and terribly good-looking. He sends me!’
Her father snorted. ‘The appalling language which I am forced to listen to from you young women! Now go and tell Mrs Dupres that we’re ready for dinner, or I shall send you myself.’ A remark which caused all four of his daughters to burst into laughter and declare him to be a dear old-fashioned creature.
Victoria woke during the night and lay listening to the wind sighing around the trees in the garden and the rain lashing the window. There would be no Alderney in the morning, she thought sleepily; they would have to think of something else. She was almost asleep again when she decided to take Alexander to visit Uncle Gardener.
The weather was, if anything, a little worse when she got up. Perhaps Alexander wouldn’t come that morning because of it. She went down and got the tea again because no one else seemed to be about, but when she got back to her room, it was to find her sisters crowded on her bed. She wished them good morning a little tartly and pointed out that it hadn’t been her turn to get the tea, but she was interrupted before she had half finished.
‘Now do tell us, Vicky, we want to know,’ demanded Louise, ‘does he fancy you? Are you going to get married?’
Victoria drank tea with maddening slowness. ‘If you mean Alexander, I have no idea to both questions. He—I told you, he just happened to be coming here for the weekend and it happened to be the one I had asked for…’
‘Liar,’ said Stephanie succinctly. ‘I saw the way you looked yesterday when I went with him to the door…you’re crazy about him.’ She added, unusually gentle. ‘If I’d known, Vicky, I wouldn’t have teased you.’