The Man in Possession (12 page)

She rose and went through. It was some weeks since she had either seen or heard anything from Max. Not since the night he had asked her out to dinner and she had gone with Roger. She lifted the receiver and heard Roger replace his.

‘
Hello, Max.
’

‘Ah, Julia. Thought I
’
d better make contact again—find out how things are going. Long time, no see.
’

She winced at the
cliché
.
‘
Well, I daresay we
’
ve both been busy. How are you?
’

‘
Been missing you. But I—er—got the idea you were giving me the brush-off, seeing
you
with Leighton in town after you
’
d said you were having an early night.
’

‘
I
’
m so
rr
y about that,
’
she told him. ‘He asked me, and I didn
’
t feel I could refuse.
’

‘
He gave a noncommittal grunt.
‘
I take it we
’
re still friends, then?
’

‘
Of course.
’
She could scarcely say otherwise.

‘
Well, look—it
’
s the boat sale tomorrow and I
’
ll be tied up. The same Friday and over the week-end.
’

‘The girl I saw you with at the hotel that night?
’
she quizzed.

‘
No. Actually, I
’
m off to London on some business of my father
’
s. But what about next Monday? We could catch up on what news there is over a bite to eat.
’

After a momentary hesitation, she agreed. After all, she had nothing against Max, and an evening out now and then was something she enjoyed. Max said he would call for her, then they said goodbye and rang off. A few minutes later Roger came through.

‘
I thought you
’
d finished with that young man,
’
he remarked.

She looked at
him
in astonishment, then found annoyance and amusement fighting for supremacy. She dealt swiftly with all three and answered coolly:

‘
Now, why should you think that?
’

‘I
’
ve told you. He isn
’
t your type. You
’
re just wasting your time,
’
he flung out as he walked to the door.

Julia gave up.
‘
By the way, it
’
s the spring boat sale at Wroxham tomorrow. You might find it interesting. They
’
re held twice a year, spring and autumn.
’

He turned. ‘Now you mention it, I did see it advertised. Have we anything in ourselves?
’

She shook her head. ‘Not this year. Occasionally we put a boat in. At least, according to the records.
’

‘
Would you like to go?
’
he asked.

‘Er—yes, I wouldn
’
t mind.
’

‘Right, then we
’
ll both go and have some lunch down there together—unless you
’
ve already made a date with your friend Windham.
’

These references to Max were not really funny. What had he against him? she wondered. She looked at Roger squarely.

‘I try to keep my private life separate from my working life
,’
she told him. ‘I would certainly not have arranged to be out on a working day without consulting you first
.’

His face darkened. ‘I don
’
t want you to account for every move
,’
he answered.
‘
And I didn
’
t mean to interfere with your private life.
’

He went out and Julia stared after him. He was a puzzle to her at times, and she was never quite sure how to take him. She supposed if she were one of his secretaries, the kind he had been used to in the oil business, she would know the exact relationship required and attitude to adopt. She would simply have to try a little harder.

The weather the following day was typical for April and fairly typical for the Wroxham boat sale—showery, and warm when the sun came out. There had also been plenty of rain during the night, and knowing from experience what conditions would be like underfoot Julia donned Wellington boots, tucking in the legs of her navy slacks. Under her suede jacket she wore a white
polo necked
sweater and tied a waterproof scarf over her hair.

‘I see you
’
re prepared for the worst,
’
Roger remarked as she took her seat beside him in his car.

It was the nearest to a compliment she was likely to get, Julia thought, though she knew the white sweater looked well and suited her. She made some bantering reply and felt suddenly stimulated as she often did in his company.

The stretch of ground which was littered with lots under the ‘miscellaneous
’
heading was a series of yellow pools, but as usual the variety of bits and pieces awaiting the auctioneer
’
s hammer was fascinating. Items ranged from the
weirdest
of home-made fend-of
f
s to boat trailers, and in between, everything one could think of which might possibly be of some use in, on, or around a boat. Weights and round anchors of all sizes, disconsolate lengths of mooring rope, new and second-hand, port and starboard lights, old cooking stoves, several pairs of oars, one or two bunk mattresses, and absurdly, things like a drunken, bursting leather armchair, and an old desk, and some objects which were simply unidentifiable, being parts of some whole, for which someone might find a remote use.

Roger stared at some of the things.
‘
Does anyone really buy this junk?
’
he asked in astonishment.

‘
Somebody will find a use for it, I daresay
,’
she answered. ‘And it isn
’
t
all
junk
.’

They stopped now and then to listen to the auctioneer as he rattled off his patter from the top of a step-ladder, and here and there saw a man bear off some item in triumph which he had managed to wrestle from an opponent in the bidding.

They squelched through the mud, skirting still larger yellow pools, to look at the small craft waiting to be auctioned. There were racing dinghies, rowing boats, motor launches, canoes, and the occasional catamaran, their owners keeping guard while prospective buyers peered and prodded and assessed the possible price.

Last of all to be auctioned were usually the bigger craft jostling each other for mooring space at an allocated quayside.

‘
I
’
d
like to know how much some of these fetch
,’
murmured Roger.

Julia glanced at her catalogue.
‘
To be auctioned at half past two. We
’
ve got time to have lunch first.
’

They had lunch at a restaurant overlooking the river, and Julia was reminded of the last time she and David had been here.

‘Penny for them,
’
offered Roger.

She shook her head, smiling.
‘
They
’
re worth a little more than that,
’
she answered. But the memory of David no longer hurt her or made her feel lonely.

All around them were people talking about boats. Wroxham had a special atmosphere on days such as this. The sun came out, and they sat outside after lunch to drink their coffee, then joined the crowds of people as the various craft were auctioned—always something of a gamble. There were several half-deckers, some exBroads hire-craft—auxiliary yachts as well as cruisers, a number of houseboats, speedboats, and various kinds of launches. There was also a luxury six-berth cruiser beautifully
‘
furnished.
’

‘
Would you like one like that?
’
asked Roger.

‘
To own, you mean—for my private use
?
’

‘
Yes
.’

Julia laughed.
‘
Chance would be a fine thing! I suppose a little bit of luxury is nice now and then, and I don
’
t see why one should necessarily be uncomfortable on a boat. But seriously I
’
d much prefer to own either a half-decker or an auxiliary. Yes, I think that would be the height of my ambition. To own a two-berth auxiliary with all the mod. cons, like you
’
re planning, plus a few additions of my own.
’

‘
Such as? That
’
s something we haven
’
t gone into, isn
’
t
it?
’

‘Better weather protection for one thing so that you can cruise in all conditions without getting either wet or frozen to death, and for another, real cabin comfort such as upholstered backrests on the settee-berths, plenty of shelf-space, handy hooks for jackets as well as cupboard space.
’

‘A Wingcraft Special,
’
commented Roger.

Occasionally Julia searched the crowds for a sight of Max, but did not see him even among those clustered around the auctioneer during the sale of the larger craft in which he usually displayed great keenness.

‘Quite an interesting day,
’
Roger said when there remained only a few houseboats to auction. ‘But it
’
s getting chilly now. How about something more to eat?
’

And so they finished the day in one of the locals which served cold meats and salads and cheese and biscuits, and they became part of a group of people who had also been to the sale, discussing sales past and present, comparing prices and generally yarning about boats. Julia thought that, contrary to Max
’
s prophecy, Roger was settling down to life on Broadland very well indeed.

On Saturday afternoon Julia had occasion to go into town. She did some shopping and finished her various errands, then dropped into a hotel for a cup of tea. She was passing the door of the lounge when she suddenly halted at the sight of two people sitting at the farthest end. For a moment she just stood and stared, scarcely able to believe her eyes.

It was Max, and with him was Celia Palmer.

CHAPTER FIVE

Julia was telling herself that it couldn
’
t be Max, he was in London, but suddenly he looked up and saw her. She turned away swiftly and, changing her mind about having tea there, crossed the foyer to the outer doors. But she had no sooner stepped on to the pavement when he caught up with her.

‘Julia, wait a minute
!’

She looked at him coldly. ‘So you changed your mind about going to London?
’
She had a strong suspicion that he had never had any intention of going. She knew him well enough to know that he had no conscience about lying to get himself out of a difficulty.

‘It was Father who changed
his
mind,
’
he told her quickly. ‘He decided to go himself. I was going to ring you. Then I came in here and met Celia—
’

Celia.
Julia
’
s eyes widened.
‘
And how long have you known Miss Palmer?
’

He took a deep breath. ‘Look,
J
ulia, I
’
ll explain everything to you when I see you on Monday. Right now I want to ask you not to mention to Leighton that you
’
ve seen Celia. She doesn
’
t want him to know she
’
s here. What I mean is, she wants to surprise him, to—to tell him herself. I understand he has rather a jealous disposition too, so if you don
’
t mind—
’

‘Don
’
t worry, Max. I wouldn
’
t dream of telling him that I saw you together.
’

Relief showed in his face.
‘
Good. See you on Monday, then, as arranged?
’

‘Yes, all right.
’

She left him and he went back into the hotel. She wasn
’
t at all anxious to see him on Monday, but at least she would hear his explanation about Celia. She was reasonably sure that Roger had no idea the two knew each other at all, and she was happy that he was being
deceived. She could well imagine that Roger could be a jealous man. Was that why Celia and he had quarrelled?

Julia was no uneasy about the situation she did not bother about having tea after all. She drove straight back to the boatyard. She saw no sign of Roger, and his car was not standing outside the house as it so often was during the day. It was usually only last thing at night when he had finally finished with it that he ran it into the garage. The boatyard was deserted, the workmen having gone home and the few cruisers on hire had left their moorings for the week. It was too early in the year and too chilly for day boats to be hired, and Julia let herself into the houseboat feeling incredibly lonely.

But about eight o
’
clock, just as it was growing dark, there came a knock on the door and she opened it to see Roger there. For a moment she felt guilty and wondered whether Celia had let him know yet that she was in the area. She really hated not being able to tell him and felt most disloyal.

‘
I was wondering whether you
’
d like to come and play the piano for a while and have a drink with me,
’
he said.
‘
That is, if you
’
re not going out.
’

She experienced a small thrill of pleasure which was short-lived as she realized that Celia could not have contacted him.

‘
No, I
’
m not going out,
’
she told him.
‘
Shall I come now, or—
’
She glanced down at her dress, thinking she would like to change into something a little better.

But he said:
‘
Yes, come now. You don
’
t need to change on my a
c
count. You look very well as you are—and the place is hardly the height of luxury yet.
’

She slipped a coat across her shoulders and they walked across to the house together.

‘I
thought if it
’
s a fine day tomorrow we might take one of the half-deckers out,
’
he said. ‘Always with the proviso that you
’
re not otherwise engaged.
’

‘
The same goes for you
,’
she answered.
‘
And on that understanding, it
’
s a date
.’

‘
There
’
s not much chance of my being
“
otherwise engaged
”,’
he said.
‘
But—Max Windham apart—I can
’
t understand why you should be alone on a Saturday evening. Or any other evening. You ought to get out more—make some new friends.
’

His tone was almost accusing. She could not understand quite what he was driving at, and neither did she know exactly how to answer him. But she thought she ought to make some effort.

‘
The boatyard keeps me pretty busy—and I
’
ve never been in the habit of going out
on
Saturday evenings in particular.
’

‘Maybe not. I haven
’
t myself, but you
’
re practically married to this boatyard, and it isn
’
t right.
’

She looked at him in surprise.
‘
If I
’
m happy, I don
’
t see why anyone else should worry.
’

He had nothing to say to that. They reached the house and he ushered her inside. By now, work on the structural alterations had been completed. Part of the wall separating lounge and dining room was gone and a most pleasing arch had been fashioned at each side where the division had been, giving rather a
‘
classic ‘appearance to the room.

‘
The heating engineers are coming in on Monday,
’
he told her. ‘And when they
’
ve finished, the decorators will start.
’

‘Will you just have this part done?
’
she asked.

He shook his head.
‘
The whole house. Perhaps you
’
d take a look around before you go and give me your opinion about colour schemes.
’

‘Yes, of course, but you mentioned the possibility of getting married. Oughtn
’
t your .future wife to be consulted?
’

He nodded.
‘
She will be. Will you have a glass of sherry?
’

The evening passed very pleasantly. While they were having a drink he brought out some auxiliary yacht designs to show her, and she told him her ideas for either a forward drive or a well cover with a window so positioned that the user could be under cover when the yacht was being used as a cruiser. They had a most lively discussion, but at the end of it he approved her idea.

‘I
’
ll have a consultation with Frank Willis, then get a design drawn
.’

After this they went upstairs where there were three moderately sized double bedrooms and a fourth which would be equally suitable either as a single room or a boxroom.

‘
What would
you
do with it?
’
he asked her.

‘It
’
s hard to say. It depends on how much entertaining you intend doing. You
’
ll probably be a fair target for those relatives who want a holiday in this area.
’

‘
Never mind about me. Suppose it were your house—how would you use it?
’
he insisted.

‘
Well, as you
’
ve got the other three rooms, I
’
d just redecorate this small one and leave it empty, see what the need turns out to be later. I
’
m no great believer in storing junk anyway. It could be used as a sewing room, a hobbies room, a—
’

‘
A nursery?
’
he prompted, his lips curving into a smile.

She nodded and smiled back at him. ‘Exactly.
’

They went from room to room. One bedroom was bigger than the other two. Julia suggested that there was enough space for a private bathroom and twin washbasins.

‘A sort of
“
his and hers
”
? Good idea.

Julia had a sudden vision of him sharing this room with Celia and her mind boggled at the idea somehow. She suggested a colour scheme and was glad to move on to the other rooms.

When they went downstairs again he insisted on Julia playing the piano while he went into the kitchen and made coffee. He had had the piano tuned, and it sounded good. She couldn
’
t help envying Celia—if it really was she whom he was going to marry. The houseboat was very nice and comfortable enough in its way, but it would be lovely to live in a house again, to have a piano one could just sit down and play at any time. There was one at home, of course. She began to realize how much she had missed music.

‘You play well,
’
Roger remarked when he brought in a tray laden with coffee, sandwiches, cheese and biscuits.

She swung round on the stool.
‘
Not as well as I
’
d like to. I
’
m out of practice.
’

‘You must remedy that when the men have finished the work.
’

But she felt sure he was only being polite.
‘
Does Celia play?
’
she asked, without
thinkin
g.

‘
Celia?
’
he repeated in a puzzled voice.
‘
I don
’
t really know. I don
’
t think so.
’

The query didn
’
t seem to have pleased him, and she wished she had not made it.

She eyed the tray and said, to cover up:
‘
You
’
ve been busy. I wouldn
’
t have thought you were so domesticated.
’

He smiled. ‘Nothing to it. Ready sliced bread and ham—cheese and biscuits cook themselves, and
Mrs.
Harris does the shopping.
’

Picture of a bachelor. It didn
’
t seem right at all. ‘Anything I can do, any time,
’
she offered.

But he shook his head swiftly. ‘
Mrs.
Harris does it as part of her job. It
isn
’
t
a part of yours. Now—black or white?
’
he added before she could answer him.

She felt a little hurt and snubbed at his turning down her offer so unequivocally. He was a man whom it was difficult to understand at times. .

She thought so even more the following day. It was fine and sunny with enough breeze to make the anticipation of some sailing—and with Roger—very, very pleasant indeed. No time had been mentioned, so as it
was Sunday, Julia lingered over her morning tea, had a leisurely bath and a prolonged breakfast of bacon and egg and toast. She had a feeling that Roger Leighton would be the kind of man who liked a leisurely Sunday morning too, though for her part these would be curtailed as summer drew near and people wanted to take out boats for the day. When she had washed up and tidied the houseboat, she wandered outside hoping Roger would be somewhere around. But he was nowhere to be seen. Should she take the cover off the boat and get her ready for pushing off or would he prefer to do that himself? There were two half-deckers, Winglet I and
2
. Twin craft. Julia chose the one in the best position for getting out and began to unhook the awning. He couldn
’
t possibly object to her doing that. And after that, surely there would be no harm in going to knock on his door.

She took her time in removing the boat cover and folded it up neatly, then went round to the house. She raised her hand to knock, then halted. She could hear voices within. She listened for a moment, then unmistakably came a woman
’
s voice. Celia
’
s.

Slowly, Julia turned away. She might have known! There would be no sailing with Roger today. She went back to the boat, picturing Celia looking over the rooms, discussing colour schemes. How different would Celia
’
s choice be from her own
?
It was ridiculous of Roger to ask her opinion last night. It was too late even to change that of the living/dining room.

Julia unfastened the ties of the sail thinking to herself that as soon as the man arrived who was on Sunday duty she would cast off. Though it was sunny, it was unlikely that they would have any customers for day boat hire. The cool wind would put most people off.

She was hoisting sail when Roger and Celia appeared. Celia looked distinctly uncomfortable, screwing up her face against the wind and holding a protective hand on her hair. Roger walked up to Julia and eyed the sail.

‘
I see you
’
re ready for the off,
’
he said.

‘
Yes. It would be a pity to waste the day,
’
she answered without looking at him.

‘I have to run Celia back to town—
’

‘That
’
s all right. We made the proviso last night, remember?
’

Celia had wandered across to an eight-berth cruiser, one of their luxury craft. She called out to Roger. Julia saw him hesitate, and pride came to her aid.

‘
Don
’
t feel under any obligation to me,
’
she told him.
‘
I can handle this boat perfectly well on my own, and in one minute from now I shall be pushing off.
’

‘
Roger, do come and show me how to get inside this lovely-looking boat—
!
’
came Celia
’
s voice.

Julia winced at the phrase as Roger strode over to the large cruiser. The next minute she had cast off, navigating carefully past the other moored craft. She felt more ragged and disappointed than she ought to be or had any right to be, and how she longed once again for David. She turned into the open river with the wind right behind her. She would have to tack most of the way back, but she didn
’
t care.

Before ve
r
y long, however, owing to the keen air and physical exercise, hunger overtook her. This was a quiet part of the river and she knew there was nowhere for miles where one could get a meal—and she had come out without money in any case. There was nothing for it but to turn the yacht into the wind and begin the zig-zag course from one side to the other to fill out the sail, though she would have liked to stay out for much longer.

Fortun
a
tely, the wind stayed brisk and veered a little so that at times she was able to take longish tacks and gain a boat or so
’
s length on the turn. All the same, she was so hungry by the time she reached the boatyard, she called out to Charlie, the workman, to moor her and ease off the sail. Tea and sandwiches were the quickest thing, she decided, and was chewing away standing up when a knock came at the door. Thinking it would be Charlie, she went to answer it, a sandwich in her hand. It was Roger. She swallowed hastily and gestured to come in.