Harbinger of Spring (23 page)

‘
Explore while
I
put the kettle
on.
’

‘
May
I?
’

‘
Of
course.
Father and Hugh will be
in
in a moment
and
I
expect they
’
ll
be
only
too glad to conduct you.
’

She went into the kitchen and
a few seconds later she
heard the front
door
close,
then a heavier tread than Rosamond
’
s
overhead.
The kettle was nearly boiling
when she
heard
footsteps behind
her. She turned to see
Hugh.

‘
Had
enough of
looking
into rooms?
’
she asked as casually
as
possible, adding
:
‘
Tea or coffee
?
’

‘
Coffee, please. I
’
m afraid Rosamond
’
s more for tea. Witch
’
s brew, she calls it.
’

‘
That
’
s fine, so is Father. I favour coffee at times like this.
’

He took cups and saucers from the dresser and placed them on the tea trolley.

‘
I notice you
’
re not using the best bedroom. Why is that
?
’

She felt confused for a moment, then answered quickly.
‘
I suppose it
’
s because I can
’
t help regarding myself as a sort of caretaker.
’
Then she went on brightly,
‘
I don
’
t think the caretaker should use the best bedroom, do you?
’

‘
If you were just a caretaker I
’
d give you a very definite no. But you
’
re not, are you?
’

‘
I am in a way. I
’
m going to lease the place. I
’
m afraid I just have to.
’

‘
I
’
m very sorry to hear it. It seemed to me that you were growing into it, becoming a part of it. Isn
’
t there—
’

He broke off as Rosamond came running into the kitchen.

‘
Sara, it
’
s absolutely super,
’
she enthused.
‘
Do you think I could see over the Mill now, too
?
’

With a pang Sara noticed the indulgent way he looked at her eager face. He was certainly very much in love with her and Sara could not help wishing she were not quite so sweet, so charming.

‘
If Hugh will take you,
’
she said.
‘
Make her put my wellingtons on, Hugh, and the anorak off the hallstand. The Mill will be very cold.
’

As they went out of the kitchen her father came in. Sara thought he was looking very tired now. She switched off the kettle and went to him.

‘
We
’
ll go into the sitting room for a few minutes and you can put your feet up.
’

‘
Well, they are aching
a bit,
’
he admitted.
‘
I sup
pose I
’
m not as young as
I thought I was.
’

‘
Nonsense, Father. You
’
ve
been going at it all day
as if you were a schoolboy.
’

He made himself comfortable on
the couch, then said
thoughtfully:
‘H
ugh
’
s a very
nice fellow. Level
headed, too. But I think that girl
’
s
much too young for
him.
Not his type at all,
in
fact.
’

‘
Opposites are often attracted
to each other,
’
she
answered ruefully.

‘
I suppose so. But there
must
be
at least fifteen years
between them. That
’
s a big enough
gap now, but in an
other twenty years it will be worse
He
’
ll be content to
stay at home—she
’
ll want to gad
about. Marriage won
’
t
change them all that much.
’

He yawned and half closed his eyes.
Sara got quietly
to her feet and went into the kitchen
to make some sand
wiches. Perhaps her father was
right, she mused, but if
two people really loved each
other, did age or anything
else matter? She had just about
finished her task when
the back door opened
and Rosamond ran in closely
followed by Hugh.

‘
It
’
s super,
’
she cried.
‘
All those steps and that queer
machinery. If I
had it I
’
d
live
right at the top and
spend hours and
hours looking through those tiny
windows.
’

Sara managed to get the
tea and the coffee made and
carried into the sitting room,
but the next hour was like
living with a whirl-wind.
Rosamond moved about the
room as
if
she was on
springs and asked question after
question without bothering
to wait for the answers, but
finally
Hugh
stopped
her.

‘
Rosa,
it
’
s time
to
go.
We
’
re wearing Sara and Eric
out
and
I
’
ve got to get you
to Norwich.
’

‘
Well,
that
’
s
not very
far.
’

He
smiled, but went into
the hall for her cloak. Eric Seymour also got up, but Sara spoke in a very firm voice,
‘
You
’
re not coming out again. You
’
re more than half asleep.
’

‘
But—
’

‘
No buts, please. I can manage perfectly well.
’

Not much more than ten minutes later, Sara was coming alongside the darkened staithe of the Country Club.

‘
Will you be able to see the way to your car, Hugh?
’
she asked.

‘
Easily. It
’
s a good path, right around to the front of the place.
’

He pushed the canopy back, stepped out and extended a hand to Rosamond on the
stern
seat while he crouched low to keep the launch alongside. Then he said in a quiet voice,

‘
Goodnight, Sara, and thank you for being so sweet to Rosamond—and everything.
’

She turned her head slightly to answer him, but before she realized his intention he leaned forward and kissed her half parted lips. Her heart raced, but he straightened immediately and the next moment the launch was drifting away from the quay.

Sara watched him carrying Rosa along the path to the car park, then as he disappeared around a
corner
she put the lever to ahead and circled around.

CHAPTER VII

For the whole of Sunday, a day of rain and strong winds, Sara was
torn
with a mixture of emotions. She had wakened that morning, not with the thought of threatened bankruptcy hanging over her, but with the knowledge that she was in love with Hugh. Just why it had not been brought home to her before, she was at a loss to understand. As far as he was concerned, it was nothing more
than
a goodnight kiss, of course, a token of thanks for
an
enjoyable evening, for hospitality and her running them back to where Hugh
’
s car was parked, but she
wished with
all her heart that he had not done so. It had awakened in her an emotion which never should have been awakened.

The rousing of her love for him and the certain knowledge of its hopelessness was like having a life sentence pronounced on her, and this was only the first of the
unnumbered
days which would reach into an eternity of misery.
,

But Monday morning came, and with it a telephone call summoning her father back to London. She was sorry to see him depart, she knew she would miss him, but in another sense was glad to see him go before her feelings overwhelmed her. Now she sat in
Mr.
Carrigon
’
s waiting room, prepared to unload on to him the peculiar business of the threatened bankruptcy proceedings.

The lawyer apologized for keeping her waiting and smiled.

‘
You really should have made an appointment, you know.
’

‘
Yes, but it must be all a stupid mistake. I
’
m being threatened with bankruptcy.
’
She opened her handbag and put the letter she had received in front of him.
‘
If
you would just write to this other lawyer and tell him that the bills have been paid—
’

He studied the letter for a few seconds, then looked at her.
‘
You have the receipts, of course?
’

‘
Des will have them. He
’
s my partner. I
’
ve tried to get in touch with him by telephone, but the exchange say it
’
s been disconnected.
’

‘
I think you
’
d better tell me a little more about the business, and the partnership agreement.
’

‘
There isn
’
t very much to tell. I met Des about three years ago and somehow we just decided to open a boutique, a trendy sort of shop for teenagers.
’

‘
I see. Who supplied the capital?
’

‘
Capital!
’
Sara gave a nervous laugh.
‘
I wouldn
’
t have called our few pounds anything as grand as that. I paid the first half year
’
s rent in advance. There were already a few fixtures in the shop which we leased. Really, it was very easy. The wholesalers gave us stock on credit.
’
She paused.
‘
I don
’
t remember that we had any difficulty until now.
’

Mr.
Carrigon kept on asking questions until it seemed to Sara that he had gleaned every possible scrap of information. Then he asked a question which scared her.

‘
Have you sufficient money of your own to pay these accounts?
’

‘
Good heavens, no
!’

‘
And of course you would not wish to go bankrupt?
’

‘
I don
’
t really know what that means, but if Des and I
have
been foolish in business we would certainly not wish anyone to lose by it. I mean, given a little time everyone would be paid.
’
She grew confused.
‘
I don
’
t understand it at all. I can well remember signing cheques for most of those accounts, if not all.
’

‘
But you don
’
t seem sure whether there was sufficient money in the bank to clear them.
’

‘
But there must have been. Des kept the books and
he wouldn
’
t have asked me to sign cheques if there hadn
’
t been enough cash to meet them. Mr. Carrigon—what shall I do?
’

He thought for a moment.
‘
I have not met
Mr.
Desmond Morris, so it would be unwise of me to form an opinion of him, but from what you tell me I certainly wouldn
’
t call him a very good businessman. The notice of proceedings in the bankruptcy court have been served on
you,
so you, or your solicitor must deal with them. I advise that you allow us to meet the claims against you and that you agree to settle with us out of your expectations.
’

‘
Expectations?
’

‘
In non-legal language, we will pay the bills and you will repay us out of the money you will receive when you lease Fenchurch Millhouse.
’
He paused.
‘
There will be small legal fees to pay, interest on the loan, and we will require you to take out a life insurance sufficient to cover the entire amount.
’

Sara
’
s mind was in so much of a turmoil that for some seconds she did not answer. Finally she said in a strained voice,

‘
Thank you,
Mr.
Carrigon. I
’
ll do what you say. Are there any papers for me to sign?
’

‘
I
’
ll have to have them drawn up. Can you be back here at three o
’
clock?
’

‘
Yes, of course. I
’
ll stay in town until then.
’

‘
I
’
m sure you
’
ll find plenty to interest you. Goodbye for the present.
’

Outside in the narrow street, Sara wondered which way to go. By now she knew the traffic-packed streets of Norwich quite well as a motorist, but as a pedestrian she had very little knowledge. Up the hill of the street she could see the traffic and hurrying pedestrians following the curve of the castle mound. Downhill it looked
quieter, and at the moment she desperately needed quiet. She went down the slope and found herself in a shop
-
lined street entirely free of traffic. She had been walking for some seconds before she noticed the whole area was paved and that at various places there were seats and small islands for the planting of shrubs and flowers. A pleasant place for lingering if it had not been for the cutting March wind and the worrying thoughts which beset her.

Two minutes later she was at the
corner
of the market place, but despite the gay background of striped awnings and interesting architecture all around, she found no pleasure in the scene. She felt cold and rather empty, but at this moment had a positive aversion to entering one of the large stores for warmth. Equally she had a dislike of taking coffee in one of the crowded restaurants.

As she hesitated she saw a policeman watching her. Then he moved to approach her and she had a stupid wish to run from him as if she were a criminal.

‘
Can I help you, madam?
’

The question was so unexpected that Sara stammered her reply.

‘
No—not—not exactly. I don
’
t know Norwich very well and—and I was wondering if there was a quiet place for coffee and a snack.
’

‘
Try the Assembly House. It
’
s only a few
min
utes
’
walk. Straight along by the market, turn right, go a little way up the hill and you
’
ll see a courtyard with wrought-iron gates in front of it.
’

Sara thanked him and threaded her way among the other pedestrians. At any other time she would have been intrigued by his description of the outside of the place, but at this moment anywhere would do so long as it was peaceful.

She found the place easily enough and walked the length of the wide courtyard, vaguely noticing that there
was a fountain in the middle of it. Then she passed through double swing doors and thought she must be in the wrong place.

Surely this lofty, elegant Georgian hall with its oil paintings and antique furniture was not the entrance to a coffee bar?

But the warmth of the place was comforting and had an intriguing air of elegance. There were several people moving in and out and three or four grouped near one of the doors. She moved across a red-patterned carpet and had a view of a self-service restaurant which was by no means crowded.

At the service counter Sara bought coffee and some very good-looking sausage rolls, then sat at a small table. In spite of her worries she felt again the unique, dignified atmosphere of the place. It seemed to have a steadfast quality that was beyond her descriptive powers. The massive marble mantelpiece was in perfect proportion with the tall panelling of the walls whose cool colouring set off the many old portraits in heavy gilded frames. Above the door by which she had come in, the musicians
’
gallery was just right. Even the service counter was not out of place if the imagination was stretched just a little, to see the room filled with women in satin gowns and knee
-
breeched men being served a cold collation by bewigged footmen.

Sara drank her coffee and mentally braced herself to review her situation. Until she knew more facts she would make no judgment on Des. Something had gone wrong somewhere, but she had little doubt he would help to set things right. In the meantime, some legality had made her entirely responsible.
Mr.
Ca
rr
igon was taking steps to keep her out of the bankruptcy court and that was very fortunate for her. Being bankrupt, it seemed, was something to be dreaded. Almost everything you possessed was taken from you, and you were
forbidden to use most of the ordinary facilities of business without disclosing the fact of being a bankrupt.

Her father, of course, would help her if she asked for assistance, but she was determined not to do so. At her age she should be able to stand on her own feet. So future prospects might look a little bleak, but it wasn
’
t hopelessly grim. Only the thought of a future without Hugh was hopeless.

If only he had not kissed her and awakened her love for him. In a few months, perhaps, her business worries would be a thing of the past, put down to experience, a lack of business sense, but her love for Hugh would go on until the end of time itself.

Sara got up and walked into the main hall. In a room to the right was an exhibition of
modern
paintings. She looked at them without having any idea what they were about—her thoughts were still on Hugh. On the other side of the hall, glazed doors disclosed a small concert hall and a notice affixed to the door informed her that there would be a recital of poems of truth and beauty that evening.

Leaving the Assembly Rooms, Sara just wandered about, finding her way past the City Hall into an area of very narrow streets, curving and running at all angles. She passed so many ancient churches that had her thoughts been more clear she would have wondered if she was not walking in circles. But one part of her was behaving like a perfect automaton, registering geography and taking care of crossing roads, while the other centred on Hugh. Every small detail of their few meetings was vivid in her mind and would remain so always.

A little before two o
’
clock she had lunch, more to pass away the time than out of a desire to eat, then she returned to her lawyer
’
s office. There were several papers for her to sign, but the business was over within a few seconds and she was just about to leave when a
thought prompted her to ask a question.

‘
Mr.
Carrigon, is it necessary for me to stay at the
Mill
every night to fulfil the conditions?
’

‘
Of course not—if you are in residence most of the time. I hope you haven
’
t been making a prisoner of yourself.
’

‘
Well, almost. I thought I might go to London and perhaps stay overnight.
’

‘
Do so by all means. Just come and go as you please. Have you a telephone number there in case I wish to reach you?
’

Sara gave her home number and left the office. She was on her way to the car park when it occurred to her that there was nothing to prevent her travelling to London today. She glanced at her watch and hurried her pace, turning into Castle Meadow and being fortunate enough to catch a bus to the station.

Five minutes later she took her seat in the train and gazed through the window as it rumbled past the limited port facilities of the city, then past tiny villages and isolated farmhouses with a backdrop of an unbroken horizon and wind-torn clouds. Soon the farmhouses gave way to miles of pine woods with only an occasional glimpse of a distant road, traffic hurtling along it.

As the woods and the flat part of the land were left behind, there was slightly hilly country, very green now that the covering of snow had disappeared, and water was everywhere. In narrow streams, in wide ditches and in disused gravel pits which flooded acres wider than their normal size. Then, with Norwich eighty miles behind them, they entered the tightly packed and mainly unlovely outer suburbs of London.