Love in Spring BoxSet

by Jenny Lane

  Tamara wrote her letter to Cassie before dinner. Although she felt that she could breathe again for a while now that Richard had shown no sign of recognition, she knew she couldn’t relax properly until she had heard from her sister. She wondered how Cassie would react when she learnt of her brother-in-law’s arrival on the scene!

  Dinner was pleasant but uneventful. Richard was an interesting conversationalist, as Tamara had already discovered, and she could have listened to him for hours as he regaled them with amusing anecdotes about his experiences in Africa. Always he included Tamara in the conversation, and yet she felt that there was some kind of barrier between them since he had entered the house. Was it because he thought she was Oliver’s wife and anyone connected with Oliver was a thorn in the flesh, she wondered, or, worse still, was it because he knew she wasn’t Cassie, but if so why didn’t he challenge her? It was still early when he rose to his feet.

  ‘If you don’t mind I’m off for some shut-eye. I’ve got rather a heavy itinerary tomorrow.’

  Tamara felt rather disappointed. The colonel and Miriam seemed to know all about Richard’s plans and she felt left out in the cold. Miriam gathered up the coffee-cups when he had gone.

  ‘Richard’s been away so long that he has to get his affairs sorted out and find somewhere to live nearer Falmouth. He doesn’t want to be resident at the hospital – he’s had enough of that – but at the same time, he’s got to be nearby for when he’s on call. He wants to get a car too... Well, goodnight, dear.’

  ‘Goodnight, Miriam.’

  Tamara went to her room and tried to read, but she just couldn’t concentrate. She thought of the day’s events. What a low opinion Richard would have of her if he discovered the truth about her identity. Perhaps he knew already and was waiting for a chance to expose her... And then there was this trouble between Oliver and Richard, like a kind of shadow because she didn’t know what it was. Maybe Cassie didn’t know either.

  Tamara wondered if it really would be best to make some excuse and return to London before things became more complicated here, but did she really want that? she asked herself. London held nothing but bitter memories, while here – in spite of one or two problems – she could at least forget those in her new surroundings. She thought of the quiet beauty of the sunlit cove, and of the kindness Dick Cassell-Boyd had shown her during the train journey. She turned off the light. No, she wouldn’t be driven away just because of some misunderstanding between the two brothers, one of whom she’d never met. She would stay here and see this thing through for Cassie’s sake.

  *

  There was no sign of Richard at breakfast the following morning, and Miriam informed Tamara that he and the colonel had gone out together car-hunting. Tamara decided to go and explore the village at a more leisurely pace.

  Her first impression of Tregarth did not alter one jot when she saw it again. It wasn’t attractive, but it undoubtedly had a certain amount of character. Most of the houses were built of granite and, towering over them all, was a colossal church which she discovered to be quite impressive on the inside.

  As she stepped out into the sunlight again, she was joined by a small mongrel, who followed her from the churchyard, looking at her with beseeching brown eyes. She was unable to shake him off.

  ‘Go home, boy – shoo!’ She walked a few paces down the road, but he bounded along by her side. She tried turning sharply but he trotted up behind her, until in the end she gave up and, laughing at his frantically wagging tail, succumbed to his wet tongue on her hand.

  She decided at last that the only sensible thing to do would be to look at his collar and take him home. The metal disc read, ‘Barney, Studio Cottage, Tregarth.’ She had noticed a sign pointing to the Studio and taking a side-turning, came suddenly upon a delightful row of cottages with picturesque little gardens consisting chiefly of large tubs of fuchsias. There was a large white shed-like building at the side of the end cottage with the sign, ‘Tom Courtney, Artist – Visitors Welcome.’ A fair-haired man was leaning on the gate. Relief spread across his face as he caught sight of Barney.

  ‘So you’ve found him – thank goodness for that! He’s such a sociable creature and he’s always getting out. My daughter would be heartbroken if anything happened to him... Look, won’t you come in for some coffee? – Anne will want to thank you herself.’

  The man spoke with the musical Cornish lilt that Tamara was beginning to like so much. He seemed very pleasant, and looked a typical artist in his faded denims and fisherman’s pullover.

  ‘Oh, no, really – it was no trouble... So you’re an artist?’

  ‘Of a kind, yes – I’ll show you round the studio if you like, but do come in for a drink first. It must be about elevenses time and I’m parched... Barney! Where has that hound got to now?’

  Barney reappeared from apparently nowhere and came lolloping towards them. Tamara followed Tom Courtney into the whitewashed cottage. She had never met an artist before and was keen to see his work.

  A young girl sprang up from the window seat. She looked like a Dresden china figure with her pale cheeks and long fair hair. Barney rushed to her side and she patted him, glancing from Tamara to Tom questioningly.

  ‘Anne, I’ve brought a visitor for coffee. Barney’s been off on his travels again and she’s fetched him back.’ He smiled at Tamara. ‘I’m Tom Courtney by the way, as you’ve no doubt gathered, and this is my daughter Anne.’ The girl extended her hand shyly.

  ‘I’m Cassie,’ Tamara said. ‘Cassie Cassell-Boyd.’

  There was an electric silence and then Tom said, ‘Great Scott, d’you mean to tell me you’re Oliver’s wife?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’ Anne had pulled her hand away as if she had been stung, but suddenly remembered her manners and said quaintly, ‘Any friend of Barney’s is a friend of mine – thank you for bringing him home. I’ll go and make the coffee now.’ And she beat a hasty retreat with Barney in her wake.

  Tamara was astounded by the strong reaction at the mention of Oliver’s name and wondered what had caused it.

  ‘Anne’s inclined to be a bit old-fashioned,’ Tom said to cover an awkward pause. ‘I’m afraid we don’t mix much nowadays – keep ourselves to ourselves – but she’s a good girl. Do sit down.’

  ‘How old is Anne?’

  ‘Practically fourteen – at the self-conscious age. She’s been a bit delicate – had glandular fever, a wretched thing for kids – but she’s much better now, fortunately. She’s showing quite a talent for art and she can’t wait to leave school so that she can join me in the studio.’ The discussed art until Anne returned with the coffee. ‘That looks good, Annie, and scones too! She’s quite a cook, Cassie.’

  Anne coloured with pleasure. ‘Grannie taught me. She lives next door but one.’ She handed Tamara a brimming mug. ‘Did – did Uncle Oliver come with you?’

  ‘No,’ Tamara explained again about the Amazon expedition.

  ‘Well, how about that, Annie?’ said Tom.

  Tamara saw the look of undisguised relief on Anne’s face and wondered why. She decided there was rather a lot she didn’t understand about her brother-in-law and resolved to find out at the earliest opportunity. She warmed to Anne and they were soon chatting away like magpies.

  Anne made wild flower pictures and brought the one she was working on to show Tamara. It was exquisite. The girl obviously had great patience as well as talent.

  ‘Aunty Mel says she’ll take them to sell in her shop when I’ve done a dozen.’

  ‘She means Melissa Blenkinsop from the craft shop,’ Tom explained. ‘I expect you’ll be seeing her before too long if Richard’s around.’

  ‘We met briefly yesterday.’ Tamara thought of the lovely girl that all the men were obviously wild about. ‘Do you sell your pictures there too, or straight from the studio?’

  ‘Mel takes care of some of the smaller stuff for me and, in exchange, I advertise the craft shop in the studio. We tend to work it between us.’ />
  Tamara got reluctantly to her feet. Tom looked disappointed.

  ‘Going already? Can’t I persuade you to look round the studio first?’

  ‘I’d love to, Tom, but it’ll have to be another time, I’m afraid, because lunch is at 12.45 and it’s quite a walk back, as you know.’

  ‘You’ll be welcome at any time – as Anne says – any friend of Barney’s…’

  ‘You will come again, won’t you?’ asked Anne. ‘If Daddy’s out I’ll show you the studio myself.’

  ‘I’d very much like to call again, Anne, if your father doesn’t mind.’

  ‘Mind – I’d be delighted! We have few enough visitors.’

  ‘Do you think Uncle Richard will come to see us?’

  Anne asked looking at Tamara earnestly with her blue eyes.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he will. Would you like me to give him any message?’

  Before Anne could reply, however, Tom interrupted, a slight frown creasing his brow. ‘Oh, no thanks. He knows where we are if he wants to see us, but I expect he’s busy at the moment... You’ll just have to be patient, Annie, for a bit longer.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll still remember me after two years?’

  ‘Of course – once seen never forgotten! Now we mustn’t detain Cassie any longer.’

  ‘You know you’re not the least bit how I would have imagined Uncle Oliver’s wife to be,’ Anne remarked suddenly.

  Tamara was amused. ‘Oh, why?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t have imagined that Uncle Oliver’s wife would visit us here at the cottage, for a start. I thought you’d have been far too stuck up.’

  ‘Really, Anne! I must apologise for my outspoken daughter, Cassie. She’s a typical Courtney!’

  Tamara laughed with him. Anne was right of course, Cassie probably wouldn’t have considered this to be her scene. ‘I shall take that as a compliment. Thank you for the coffee and the delicious scones, Anne, and for showing me your pictures. Perhaps I can buy one for a present.’

  They stood at the gate and waved, and Tamara felt she had made friends. She went back along the lane towards Rosemullion House, whistling a little tune to herself and feeling quite light-hearted for the first time in months.

  *

  ‘Richard phoned while you were out to say he’s having lunch with Melissa and then they’re going flat-hunting – and Arnold’s playing golf so it’s just the two of us.’ Miriam informed Tamara on her return. Tamara wondered what sort of relationship Melissa had with Richard. They had obviously kept in touch while he was in Africa.

  Miriam had settled for a quiet afternoon in the garden, alternately sewing and napping. Tamara kept her company, reading her book, but, after a while Miriam went inside to lay down, saying that the sun was too hot for her. Tamara told her that she would go down to the beach, and set off armed with sketch pad, suntan lotion, etc.

  Tregarth Cove was peaceful and undisturbed that afternoon. The sand was silver, the sea a shimmering aquamarine. This was more like it, Tamara thought, heaving a great sigh of contentment. She sat staring into the green depths of the sea and, for a time, let her thoughts become suspended and then, kicking off her sandals, she went for a paddle.

  This was the first summer she had been completely alone. Her parents had wanted her to join them in Canada; her father had even offered to pay the fare, but she had refused. Time was the great healer, they had said when Ian had jilted her just before the wedding. This time last summer she had been looking forward to marriage. They had got the flat and for weeks beforehand had been doing it up, getting everything just right. She had obviously been so absorbed in the work they had been doing that she had not really noticed Ian’s cooling attitude towards her, or if she had, had put it down to tiredness. Then one day he had shattered her dream world. He had had second thoughts, he’d said. There was this new girl at the office that he felt attracted to and – well, he just wasn’t sure about getting married any more. He was sorry, but there it was. He had gone away up north somewhere, leaving Tamara shocked and hurt.

  Slowly she had picked up the pieces, but it had taken time. She thought she would never care about anyone else again. She had moved into the flat and taken up her new teaching post and that in itself had been good for her. She had forced herself to adapt to a new life, locking her grief deep inside her for her parents’ sake. For the past year she had buried herself in her work, and had taken evening classes in shorthand typing, filling every available moment and leaving precious little time to think. Her holidays until now had all been spent with her parents. They had only gone to Canada when they were absolutely sure that she was all right to be left alone and she had half promised to join them in the summer, but when she heard that Cassie was coming to England she had decided to stay in London.

  Tamara got out of the water and stretched full length on the sand. Presently she reached into her beach-bag for her sketchbook and became so engrossed in her drawing that she did not notice the time.

  ‘Not bad, Mrs Cassell-Boyd – not bad at all!’

  Tamara nearly jumped out of her skin. ‘Richard! I thought you were spending the afternoon in Falmouth!’ she exclaimed closing the book with a snap.

  ‘So I did – I’ve just got back. It’s 5.30, you know. Mother said you were here and so I decided to come and find you.’ He squatted down beside her, his eyes taking in at a glance the sandy jeans and faded T-shirt, the untidy but pretty chestnut hair caught back in an elastic band. She suddenly felt rather self-conscious, aware that she looked very different from the previous day. ‘Were you successful?’

  ‘About the flat, you mean?’ She nodded. ‘No – I tried three places, but they weren’t up to much. If the worst comes to the worst I’ll just have to live in at the hospital until something suitable crops up. I got myself a car though – three years old and in pretty good shape... Have you been swimming?’

  ‘No, I thought Cornish beaches were supposed to be notoriously unsafe.’

  ‘Some are – a number of lives are lost every year but mainly through people’s own stupidity – they disregard the warnings – but this cove is as safe as houses. Just don’t swim in the bay near the village, though.’

  ‘I didn’t even realise there was one,’ she said in surprise. ‘I’m not very confident in the water, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Well, how about an early swim before breakfast tomorrow, then? I’ll drive you down so that you can see what you think of the car,’ he said suddenly.

  ‘Thank you, Richard, I’d enjoy that, but you mustn’t feel you’ve got to take me out just because I’m your sister-in-law.’

  He grinned. ‘I don’t, but it just so happens I’d like your company. Now Mother says it’s an early meal tonight because she’s arranged for some people to come over for bridge this evening.’

  Tamara panicked suddenly. ‘Richard, I really can’t play bridge. I did say I wasn’t very good, but I don’t think your parents believed me.’

  He laughed. ‘Don’t worry, you can partner me against John Penfold and his mother. We’ll beat them hollow – you’ll see. I’m afraid it’ll be a rather boring evening, but it will please Mother because she wants to show you off to her friends.’

  ‘Will Melissa be there and Tom Courtney?’

  A frown crossed his face. ‘Nothing will induce Melissa to play bridge, and who’s been talking to you about Tom Courtney?’

  ‘Oh, I met him in the village this morning.’ She explained the incident.

  ‘Good gracious – I don’t believe it! You’re telling me you actually had coffee with him?’

  Tamara’s eyes widened. She sensed that Richard was annoyed for some reason. ‘Yes – why? Shouldn’t I have done? It was all perfectly innocent. His daughter was there...’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous! I’m not implying a lack of propriety. It’s just that... Oh, what on earth’s the use of my saying anything when it’s obvious Oliver’s never put you in the picture... Come on, we’d better be getting back.’ He charged
on ahead and she could tell from the set of his shoulders that something had made him very angry indeed. She felt utterly bewildered.

  ‘Richard, wait – I don’t understand... Why shouldn’t I visit them? After all, they did invite me.’

  He stopped and waited for her to catch him up, his face stern.

  ‘Yes, perhaps it’s time we all buried the hatchet, and if Tom’s going to make the first move who am I to stop him...? It’s all right, Cassie – I’m sorry. It’s just an awkward situation Oliver’s placed you in, that’s all, something that happened concerning him and Tom some years ago. Perhaps he’ll tell you about it some time.’

  ‘But it doesn’t concern me – how can it?’

  His blue-grey eyes softened and he took both her hands in his.

  ‘No, you’re quite right, my dear, of course it doesn’t. You just took me by surprise, that’s all. Please forget what I said.’ The contact of his hands with hers was electric. She was amazed that he could have this effect on her. She snatched her hands away and bent to fasten her sandal to hide her confusion. In spite of what she might pretend to the contrary about being hardened, she was still very vulnerable indeed. She caught sight of Cassie’s rings and smiled. All the while she was wearing those there would be little chance of her becoming involved with anyone. Good old Cassie!

  When Tamara returned to Rosemullion House she looked at the list that Cassie had given her of possible people she might meet.

  Richard’s friend, John Penfold, was mentioned ‘Friend of Oliver’s – they still correspond although they haven’t seen each other for several years. We have never met.’ Tamara wondered why Tom Courtney’s name wasn’t on the list. Was Cassie holding something back from her that might prove an embarrassment?