The Promise (11 page)

‘But enough about me,’ he said brightly. ‘What about you?’

I turned to look at him, drowning in the warmth of his
gaze even as the common sense voice at the back of my head was urging me to walk away now, before it was too late. ‘Oh, I lead a very dull life by comparison, one filled with duty, and no freedom at all.’

‘It is different for young ladies, I can see that,’ he sympathised. ‘But you seem to manage very well to make good use of your time. Your work at the Seamen’s Institute, for instance. How long have you been working there? I confess I’ve never noticed you before.’

I couldn’t help but giggle. ‘I’ve never been before. That was my first time.’

‘Ah, and what made you decide to come, might I ask?’

I raised my chin a fraction, knowing he was teasing me and understood full well why I was there. ‘I’d heard they were short-handed and thought I could help,’ I primly remarked.

He cleared his throat, as if choking on a laugh. ‘And I should have better manners than to ask. But you will come again, I hope?’

‘Oh yes!’ The eagerness in my tone quite put an end to my false hauteur, and brought the usual betraying flush to my cheeks. Then he was holding my hands in his, and this time making no attempt to let go.

‘I’m delighted to hear it. I do hope we will see much more of each other in the future, Georgia. I may call you that, mayn’t I? We are friends now?’

‘Of course,’ I whispered. Words seemed to desert us both and a silence washed over us, the sounds of the city fading to nothing as I traced the glorious line of his
aquiline nose with its delightful smattering of freckles, the square strength of his jawline. His face seemed to have drawn nearer somehow, only inches from mine, so close I could see my own reflection in the depth of those blue eyes. It wouldn’t do to allow him to kiss me again, not here in a public place. Not at all, in fact. Mama would not approve. But then my mother wasn’t anywhere near and the blood was pounding in my heart, roaring through my veins, making my fingers and toes tingle. The very touch of his hand, skin against skin, was filling me with a desire I had never before experienced. He drew closer still, his warm breath caressing my face.

‘It’s time to go, miss.’

Maura’s voice shattered the moment and we both sprang apart.

‘You will come again next week,’ he called as I raced away.

‘I’ll be here,’ I shouted back, quite forgetting he would soon sail out of my life and go adventuring again.

‘You can’t stop there,’ Chrissie cried, as Georgia rose stiffly from the garden bench, picked up a garden rake and began to scrape up more leaves. ‘I want to know how things progressed between you. Did he leave or did you see him again?’

She smiled. ‘I think that’s enough talk for one day. Old people should never bore the young with their memories. Run along now and enjoy yourself. Don’t you have a costume to make for the water festival on Saturday?’

Chrissie picked up a long brush to help sweep the
leaves. ‘I intend to leave all of that stuff to the locals, but I’ll certainly attend. Will you?’

Her grandmother shook her head. ‘I shall watch from the sanctity of my eyrie.’

‘Then perhaps you’ll tell me more another day?’

She didn’t glance up from her task, just kept on collecting leaves into a big pile. ‘I’m surprised you’re so interested. People aren’t usually wanting to hear tales from a crabby old woman. Certainly my family doesn’t, which is a relief in a way, I freely admit. Some things that happen in life are best not spoken of, best not even remembered.’

Chrissie’s heart went out to her. If only she could tell her that here was one family member who would listen all day to her stories. But she couldn’t say that, not yet. On impulse Chrissie hugged the old woman, kissed her papery soft cheek. ‘I hope you’ll change your mind, but I’ll leave you in peace, for now.’

Saturday came and Chrissie took some trouble with her appearance, choosing a new cotton skirt in her favourite blue, and a white, silk, peasant blouse. She carefully shampooed and curled her soft brown hair, and added a discreet touch of coral lipstick and mascara, simply for her own self-esteem, she told herself unconvincingly. Taking such trouble made her feel young and attractive again, something that had been sadly missing in recent months. But she had no wish to examine too closely the reason behind the effort she made.

The Water Festival went ahead with great gusto. There were model yacht races, apple bobbing and bursting water-filled balloons for the very young. Every kind of madcap race you could imagine including speedboats, home-made rafts and rowing skiffs, and fishing and diving competitions for the more adventurous. And for those
oldies who preferred to keep their feet on terra firma, they could play quoits or throw balls at coconut shies.

In one race the lads had to run through Bowness, up the hill, collect a bucket of water from behind the picture house, carry it back to the lake then row it across to Belle Isle, spilling as little as possible. Ben managed to win that one, much to Chrissie’s delight, and she rushed to offer him a kiss as a reward, in addition to the red rosette that was pinned to his vest.

‘Never again,’ he laughed, almost scarlet in the face from the exertion. ‘That hill is a killer even without carrying a bucket of water, let alone having to row half across the lake at the end. Look at me, I’m soaked to the skin and the bucket is near-empty.’

‘Wimp,’ she teased. ‘Stop complaining – you won, didn’t you?’

‘And your kiss was the best part of the prize. Any chance of an encore?’

Laughing, she was backing away from his pursuit of her when a rival group of lads from the neighbouring town of Ambleside suddenly rushed at him, and, picking Ben up shoulder high, flung him into the water. There followed the kind of ferocious water fight that made Chrissie thankful she was safely on dry land. She stood on the jetty with the rest of the crowd laughing uproariously at their high jinks.

When Ben finally emerged, fortunately unharmed and still grinning from ear to ear, he begged her to wait for him. ‘You won’t run away while I go and get dry, will you?’

‘I’ll be here,’ she promised, pretending to heave a
resigned sigh but feeling inside that familiar nudge of excitement. With wet shorts and vest clinging to his muscular body, he was a sight to see, so intensely masculine she could feel her cheeks growing pink just looking at him. When Ben returned, looking fresh and even more startlingly handsome in grey slacks, navy jacket and a blue shirt open at the neck, Chrissie caught her breath at the sight of him. His fair hair was slicked back, and there was something about the way he was smiling down at her that made her go all warm and fizzy inside. He bought her an ice cream cone which she licked with great enjoyment, as if she were a child again. The emotions running through her were, however, very far from childish.

The highlight of the occasion was the firework display, which took place as soon as dusk fell, and after that came music and dancing by the marina for those still with the energy to take part.

‘May I?’ Ben was holding out a hand for a dance, but Chrissie shyly demurred.

‘I don’t think I can remember how.’

‘That’s OK because I have two left feet, so we can stagger round together.’

She laughed. Ben made a joke of everything, and she liked that in him.

It turned out to be a fun polka which they danced to ‘I Don’t Want Her –You Can Have Her – She’s Too Fat For Me’, which reduced them both to helpless laughter. But then the music changed to something far more seductive, a Doris Day number: ‘It’s Magic’. The pace slowed till they were barely moving, and Chrissie was all too aware
now of Ben’s arms about her, holding her so close she felt stirred by the press of her breasts against his hard body. Her eyes drifted closed as she swayed to the lilt of the music, and somehow his chin was resting against her forehead, his hand holding hers against his chest and it was all deliciously romantic. She’d forgotten how wonderful it felt to be in a man’s arms, even if it was only in a dance.

‘So this is what you get up to when I’m not around?’

‘Karen!’

The music was still playing but they were no longer dancing. Ben had jerked away and the romance of the moment had quite vanished. He seemed to be staring in open-mouthed dismay at someone over her right shoulder. Chrissie half turned to meet the furious gaze of a young girl. Dressed in red shorts and white top she couldn’t be a day over nine or ten, although standing there, hands on hips, she gave a good imitation of a middle-aged harridan.

She was glaring at Chrissie as if she hated her. ‘Like pinching other people’s fellas, do you?’

‘Karen, don’t start, please,’ Ben began, but Chrissie interrupted.

‘I beg your pardon?’ She was dumbfounded by such rudeness, even as she experienced a prickle of discomfort between her shoulder blades. Was there something – or more accurately some
one
– Ben hadn’t thought to mention? She recalled talk of a pending divorce, but not a word about him having a daughter. She waited for an explanation, an introduction even. He did neither. His arm tightened protectively around her waist as he addressed
his next words to the girl, and they weren’t in any way loving ones.

‘What the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with your mother.’

A shrug and a pout, in that grumpy way young girls have. ‘I got bored, so I came home.’

‘Bored? What do you mean you got
bored
? And
how
did you get home? Does Mum even know you’re here? Don’t tell me you ran away without telling her?’

‘I’m not stupid, Dad. Not like you,’ she added, casting another furious glare in Chrissie’s direction. ‘She put me on the train, OK? Grandad picked me up. I’m perfectly capable of travelling on my own. Looks like I arrived just in time.’

Chrissie quickly disengaged herself, thinking this might be wise judging by the thunderous expression on the girl’s face. ‘Look, I’ll make myself scarce. I can see you two have things to talk about which don’t concern me.’

‘And just you leave my dad alone, right?’ snapped this very angry child, poking Chrissie in the chest with one stabbing finger, so hard that Chrissie staggered back a pace or two.

‘Excuse me, I’ve done nothing. I don’t even know why you would object to my dancing with Ben … er, your father. I understood he was a free agent.’

‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong, see.’ The girl punctuated her next words with further stabs at Chrissie’s chest, each one more vigorous than the last, forcing her to back off, much to the amusement of the other dancers who’d paused to watch the fun. ‘This is my dad, so that
means he belongs to
my mum
! And don’t think there’s going to be a divorce, because there isn’t. Mam’s packing so she can come back home. She’ll be here any day. Got that? They’re getting back together, so you can buzz off and find a chap of your own.’

Chrissie heard Ben’s groan, saw him dart forward as if to stop her, but it was too late. The girl suddenly slammed the flat of both hands into Chrissie’s chest and shoved her backwards into the lake. Chrissie hit the water with an explosion of shock that knocked all the breath from her lungs. In an instant, freezing cold water closed over her head and she found herself floundering once again in the murky depths of Lake Windermere, only this dipping was much less fun than the first. She flapped her arms, kicked her legs, quite certain that at any moment some weeds, or anchor chain, would wrap themselves around a foot and drag her down, or her lungs would explode and she’d drown anyway. Then hands were grasping her wrists and she was being pulled to the surface. Chrissie emerged gasping into the moonlight.

Several people had rushed to her rescue, including Ben, and she was dragged unceremoniously from the water, beached like a stranded fish. Karen stood close by, laughing and giggling with her friends as if this was the funniest sight they’d ever seen. Which in a way it probably was. Chrissie’s beautiful new blue skirt and silk blouse were now a dripping wreck, her carefully curled hair plastered to her scalp. Yet another outfit ruined. This was developing into a habit.

Ben’s face was a picture of horror. ‘God, I’m sorry,
Chrissie. I should have told you about Karen.’

‘Yes, I think perhaps you should. Still, no need to bother now, eh? I think I understand perfectly why you didn’t.’ And she strode briskly away, chin high, gathering whatever dignity she had left at her command.

Ben came chasing after her. ‘Are you OK?’ His handsome face was creased with concern. ‘Let me see you home.’

‘I can manage, thanks.’ She kept on walking.

‘Oh, your lovely blouse, and it looked so beautiful.’

He pulled a string of water weed from her hair but she shook him off. Water streamed down her neck, but as every part of her was soaking wet it hardly seemed to matter. ‘You know how much I relish a ducking, particularly on a chilly evening in a freezing lake.’ Her tone was sharp enough to cut flint, her mind resolutely fixed upon the possibility of a hot bath, assuming the boiler at Rosegill Hall was working. Ben caught at her arm and jerked her to a halt.

‘I want you to know that what Karen said isn’t true. The poor lass has been a bit upset by her mum and me splitting up, but Sal is history, I swear it. It
is
true that she’s coming back home, but not permanently. At least I don’t think so.’

‘You don’t seem too sure.’

‘It’s hard to say with Sal, but I won’t allow that to happen.’

‘Do you have any way of stopping her?’

He had the grace to look a bit sheepish. ‘No, I don’t suppose I do. It probably won’t happen, anyway. I expect
she’s finding that life on her own is not quite so much fun as she’d imagined it would be, or else her latest fella is creating difficulties. But the divorce went through OK. We have the decree nisi and everything. I’d hate you to think I was cheating on you.’

Despite herself, Chrissie was both surprised and elated by this explanation, expressed with every sign of sincerity and compassion. But what exactly was he saying? That he was serious about her, or just no longer in love with his ex-wife? That he couldn’t bear to let her go? That he was prepared to make his own daughter’s life a misery by continuing to see a woman she strongly disapproved of? Not a promising prospect. Or did he just want a bit on the side, to help get his own back on his wife’s infidelity?

Wary of getting involved, she backed away. ‘The state of your marriage is of no concern to me,’ she told him, rather frostily. ‘It’s really none of my business. Although it might have been tactful of you to mention, in passing, that you had a daughter.’

‘I admit I should have told you about Karen, only she is something of a trial at present and—’

‘You didn’t want to put me off?’

‘No, that’s not it – well, partly I suppose. Mainly, it was because I didn’t want to look like a desperate male seeking a replacement mother for her.’ He gave a philosophical little smile.

Chrissie was suddenly angry. ‘Yet that’s exactly how it seems. Did you hope to get me hooked on your charms, then when I’d fallen hopelessly in love with you and could resist you no longer, you’d casually mention her existence?
A sort of, “Oh, by the way, this is my daughter who just happens to be in need of a new mother.”’

‘Are you?’

‘What?’

‘Hopelessly in love with me?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself. You are a
cheat
, and a
liar
.’

A stain of crimson spread up his neck. ‘Is that what you think?’

‘Don’t all men think only of their own needs? Utterly selfish creatures, that’s what they are. Men! I’ve had enough.’ She strode away, so infuriated when he easily kept pace with her that she continued to rail at him. ‘Stupid men want to get married, even when there’s a war on and they might get killed. They pester you for years and take it for granted you’ll marry them, even when you tell them over and over again that no, you never want to marry again, thank you very much. Ever!’

‘I think you’re confusing me with other men in your life.’

‘I am not!’ she cried, skidding to a halt, quite beside herself with cold and anguish, and bitter disappointment. Not because Ben had a daughter, who was probably a perfectly nice girl, if a bit churned up by the storm of events in her life. But because he’d kept quiet about the child, rather as if she were a shameful secret. And because in all these weeks together he’d given every impression that he cared for her,
and yet still hadn’t so much as kissed her
. ‘Your actions were not those of an honourable man. Presumably you simply wanted to lure me into your bed. Well, hard cheese, it didn’t work.’ The lack of logic in
Chrissie’s argument failed to register. She was too cold, too wet, too far gone in her rage.

‘Do men ever think of anyone but themselves?’ She yelled the question at him then answered it herself. ‘No, they do not! Do they ever listen to a word you say to them? No!’ Chrissie wagged a furious finger in his face. ‘If your feelings for me were genuine, you should have spared me,
and
your daughter, the humiliation of meeting like that. It wasn’t fair on either of us.’

‘OK, so I got it wrong. I’m sorry. I accept I should have told you, all right?’

‘No, it is not
all right
. Feelings are involved. You can’t go messing about with people’s emotions like that.’

‘Have I?’ he calmly enquired.

‘Have you
what
?’ She was almost spitting with fury at his obstinate refusal to see any sort of a problem.

‘Messed about with your emotions?’

‘Damn you, Ben Gorran!’ And spinning on her heels she started to march away, except that as she was still dripping wet she slipped in the mud, would have fallen had not Ben caught her. Tears standing proud in her eyes, she slapped him away. ‘Get off me! Leave me alone.’ She was crying, although she hadn’t realised it until now. ‘I don’t ever want you to touch me. Actually, I don’t give a toss about you.’