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Authors: Eleanor Farnes

Tags: #Harlequin Romance 1969

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BOOK: The Red Cliffs
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I have my uses, admit it,

he said.

She admitted it.


I came by last night, but you were out,

he said.


Yes, I went to Mrs. Marport

s. She had a cocktail party.


Oh, they

re roping you in, are they?


It

s a good thing to know a few of one

s neighbours.


And which few did you meet? Who was there?


You weren

t.


No, I

m an outcast.


Why?


I don

t conform. I find them dull and stupid and narrow. I was educated to work with my brain, but I work with my hands. They don

t know what to make of me and so they leave me out. Thank God. Well, who was there?

She named the guests.


Poor Alison. And what had Neil to say to you?


Very little. I talked to other people and I came away early. I wanted to talk to you about Neil, Roger; about Neil and Tom and Evelyn.


At your service,

he said.

She asked questions and he answered them fully, and the picture that emerged was the one that Alison had suspected. It was a picture of two young people humiliated by their failure and by having to return meekly to the shelter of Neil

s wing; of their having no time and no peace to find their new level because of Neil

s continual interference and overbearing; of a slow disharmony that crept into their marriage; of Evelyn

s increasing reliance upon Neil and of the bad effect that this had upon Tom.


I can tell you it was hard to stand by and see it all happen,

said Roger.

I believe Tom would have made a success of this place if he had been left alone: but Neil tried to take over from the beginning. Take the restoration of this place, for instance. Evelyn planned it and Neil

s men moved in to carry it out. Tom was all for moving in and carrying out improvements himself, but the whole thing was taken out of his hands. Same with the farm. Everything planned by Neil, and when Tom tried to stand his ground, he was laughed at for lack of experience and overridden. What followed was a matter of course. He lost interest, as who wouldn

t? Evelyn turned more and more to Neil. I saw her changing. And the more she turned to him, the more Tom was discouraged, and went to pieces.


That

s how I thought it must be,

said Alison.


But why make yourself miserable about it now? Just leave Neil out of your calculations altogether. Let

s talk about something more pleasant. You go into the sitting room and I

ll bring you some coffee.


Let

s do it together,

said Alison.

They ended by washing up together, making the coffee together and carrying it into the living room. Roger lit their cigarettes, and they sat back contentedly, until at last Alison gave an involuntary yawn and excused herself.


I

m going,

said Roger.

And you can get to bed.


I don

t want to drive you away,

she smiled.


Time to go anyway.

She went with him to the door, and he stood and smiled down at her, his dark eyes bold, his white teeth gleaming.


Thanks for an enjoyable evening,

he said.

Thank you for cooking the supper.


Always at your service, Alison.

He leaned down and kissed her cheek and turned at once to the door.

You can call on me at any time for any thing. Goodnight, darling,


Goodnight, Roger,

she said, and closed the door behind him, and leaned against it for a moment to recover her equilibrium. It had been a foregone, conclusion that sooner or later he would kiss her, but she did not yet know if she was glad or sorry that it had happened. It was a beginning, she knew, but the beginning of what? She must be very careful and only let this lead where she wanted it to go. At least Roger had always been honest. He had said that rolling stones should not be cumbered with wives, so that presumably marriage was not in his plans, so that she knew where she stood.

Alison did not want to live without friends, nor did she want to live without love, but recent experience had made her both vulnerable and wary. There were times when she still longed for the happy companionship she had shared with Ralph, and she was under no delusion that Roger could supply the same; but Roger was good company, he was useful, he obviously liked to be with her and she saw no reason to prevent his coming.

It would be interesting to see how he compared with Ralph when the two men were together. For Lucy had long been pledged to spend Easter with Alison, and Ralph had offered to drive her to Combe Russet and been invited to stay too. Alison was, in fact, looking forward with excitement and pleasure to the visit, longing to see Lucy again and hear all her news, finding that living alone had many disadvantages, the chief of which was loneliness.

On the evening of their arrival, Alison walked through the house to see that everything was in readiness, and was pleased with all that she had done.

The house sparkled with cleanliness, the beds were made up, spring flowers were arranged in bo
w
l
s and vases, and a liberal supply of food was laid in. Roger had brought chickens, eggs and cream from Mrs. Simms

farm. Alison thought he was disappointed not to be asked to supper that first evening. She had said:

We shall have such a lot to talk about, Roger, that can

t possibly interest you. All the gossip about people you don

t know. But come over to lunch on Friday.

With that he had to be content.

Alison went to the front door half a dozen times to see if there was any sign of her visitors, but at last she heard the car, heard the horn sounding in the way that had long been a signal between her and Ralph, and went running through the front garden to meet them. She and Lucy kissed, and Alison turned to Ralph, who took both of her hands in his and kissed her too.


This is lovely,

Alison exclaimed,

and you

ve made good time too. Oh, it is good to see you both.


I was lucky to get today off,

said Lucy.

It made the traffic problem easier—though the roads are pretty busy now.

They were now getting suitcases out of the car, and went into the house together, talking eagerly. Alison took them upstairs to show them their rooms, both she and Lucy pointing out things as they went, and indicating the views from the windows to Ralph. Then he insisted on a lightning tour of the house before supper, and it was growing late by the time the three of them were sitting at the dining room table, over the delicious chicken that Mrs. Simms had provided.


Now,

said Ralph,

tell me how it

s really going, this living alone in the remote depths of the country.


Most of the time I just love it,

said Alison.
“It seems to be the place where I was meant to be, and I’m glad I didn’t
waste any more of my life in London.

He overlooked the use of the word waste, and said:


That

s most of the time. What about the rest of the time?


Well, I hate to admit that I

m still rather nervous at night. Ghosties and ghoulies have no fears for me—it

s more the idea of the odd intruder. And sometimes I suffer from loneliness—usually coming back into the empty house. But both of those things could easily be cured by having another person in the house.

Lucy looked at her sharply.


None at all,

said Alison.

I

m not at all sure I should like having somebody permanently here. The idea only recurs when I

m a bit jittery.


Is there any social life? Are there any interesting people about? Or is it as remote as it seems?


Not by a long way. I

m beginning to believe you can have more social life here than in many London circles. All sorts of things are going on all the time, cocktail parties, dinner parties—the wives have coffee parties; besides the many organisations that one can join. Roger is a mine of information about what goes on, and the complicated strata of society here.


You see Roger a good deal?

asked Lucy.


Yes, he

s been marvellously useful, in all sorts of ways. The garage path was his work, he built me an incinerator; he mended a leak in the garage roof, cleaned out my choked-up boiler, helped me clear the workshop. He

s coming to lunch tomorrow. I think he would have liked to be here this evening, but I wanted this evening just for us.


Yes, it

s much nicer,

said Lucy.


Much,

supplemented Ralph.


Now tell me all your news,

said Alison.

Everything about everybody we know in London.

They sat at the table for a long time, absorbed in their intimate and interesting talk, and Alison realised how much she had missed them both and was now glad to see them. Seeing Ralph after a longish absence, she thought him a polished person with a restful, easy manner; a man very much in
control of himself, sure of what he wanted from this life. He could hardly have been in greater contrast with the piratical Roger, who was the opposite of most of these things. 

 

CHAPTER SIX

In spite of Alison

s enjoyment of her new life—her house and the countryside, her woodcarving and her daily job—there were times when she suffered from a lack of companionship, of somebody to whom she could talk and with whom she could discuss her ideas. On the day after the arrival of Lucy and Ralph, she suffered from this no longer. It seemed to her that the day was full of talk.

Lucy and Alison had cooked the lunch. Roger and Ralph insisted on washing dishes afterwards and making coffee. So the two girls sat at rest in the sitting room before the fire of glowing oak logs.


You spoke of having somebody living in the house with you,

said Lucy.

Did you mean it?


Sometimes I think it would be a good idea. I do get a bit jittery at night—after all, I

m a long way from anywhere. And it would be somebody to talk to—and to share expenses with—and chores. It depends on getting the right person.


And you really have nobody in mind?


Nobody. I should think it might be difficult here.


Do you remember Corinne Duval?


Yes, I think so. Wasn

t she the girl who danced with the Royal Ballet?


That

s the one. Fair, very pretty. Well, she was involved in a car crash a few weeks ago. Broken ankle, a complex fracture, a lacerated arm, and bruises and scratches. The poor dear is a friend of Sandra, who took your place in the flat, so she comes to see us sometimes. The bruises are better by now, and the arm almost so, but she is terribly depressed about the ankle. It

s in plaster and she hobbles about on it, but she

s supposed to have a long rest cure. And I naturally thought of you.


Where

s her home? Can

t she go home?


Her parents live in France. She

s half French, and was brought up there. She

s a wonderful cook, she could be useful to you in that—and from, here, she could get back to see her specialist.


But she

s temperamental, isn

t she?


No, not unduly so. Lively, of course, a bit of an extrovert, but
I
think quite practical underneath it: the French coming out of her. I think she would love this place, and she would help with expenses, and if it didn

t work out, well, it

s only until the ankle gets better.


I

ll think about it,

said Alison.


May I mention it? She could come and spend a week, so that you could both give it a trial.

Roger and Ralph came in with the coffee, and joined them at the fireside.


I

ve decided that we

re all going out to dinner tonight,

said Ralph.

You are to be my guests at the Golden Hind.


Good,

said Alison lazily.

No more cooking today.


If you

re going to walk us miles over the headlands, you wouldn

t feel like cooking again anyway.


It

s not a nice day,

said Lucy,

for walking miles.


It will do you good, lazybones,

said Ralph.

I think you

d, better reserve a table,

said Roger,

as it

s Eastertime, and. the Golden Hind is the only decent place.


Rather crimson and gold,

said Alison.

A little over-lush if your tastes are austere, but very cosy.


I

ll give them a ring,

said Ralph.


Not from here,

said Alison.

No telephone.


I

d forgotten that you were so primitive.


It

s coming. I keep jogging up the people, but it hasn

t arrived yet. But there

s a call box a mile or so from here.


I

ll pop along to it when we

ve had coffee.


Have you met Corinne Duval, Ralph?


Yes, several times. As a matter of fact, we went to the Festival Hall together last week.


You and Corinne?


Yes. You left London a desert, Alison. I have to do something to cheer myself up occasionally.


What did you hear?


Yehudi Menuhin. Doing the Beethoven and the Bartok.


How gorgeous. No
w
that is what I miss. But what I wanted to ask is: How do you like Corinne?


A tricky question. Why are you asking?


Lucy says she needs a rest cure and suggests that I shou
l
d take her in.


Oh, well, from that point of view, I should say she is charming and helpful and quite entertaining.


You don

t think we would get in each other

s hair?


No. But I can see you

re determined that London shall be a desert for me.


Do you really not want her to come, Ralph?

He laughed.


I don

t mind in the least. But I do have tickets for Glyndebourne for the two of us.


Take me instead,

said Lucy.

I love Glyndebou
rn
e. What are the tickets for?


Don Giovanni.


Bliss. Let

s send Corinne down here and go to Glyndebourne together.


This is the only thing that makes me jealous,

declared Alison.

No more Festival Hall, no more Glyndebourne, no more galleries.


You don

t have to bury yourself,

said Ralph.

Come to town and I

ll glad
l
y be your escort.


I

m a working woman. I don

t have time to come to town.

Roger listened, and he knew that these three had a common existence, and felt an outsider. He had met Lucy briefly, and had been so immediately interested in Alison at that time, that Lucy had hardly impinged on his consciousness. Now he saw that they had a long, shared experience behind them, were part of each other

s lives. Ralph too was ap
parently on an intimate footing that Roger himself had, as yet, nowhere near attained, and he was put out. Unreasonably, he felt dejected, diminished, neglected, and this was in no way improved
w
hen Ralph said:


Now where is this phone box, Alison? Come and show me the way,

and Alison rose immediately to do as he said.


Roger and I will stay here,

said Lucy comfortably,

and entertain each other until you get back.

Roger

s scowling glance at Lucy did not escape Ralph. He said to Alison in the car:


That

s a curious customer, Alison, that Roger of yours.


He isn

t mine, Ralph.


I should rather think he is, whether you want him or not.


No. He believes in a wife in every port.


Don

t let Combe Russet be a port for him, darling.


I don

t intend to. He was Tom

s great friend, and I think I

m a link, as it were, between today and happier days.


Eyewash, Alison. He isn

t the sentimental type. Watch what you

re doing, for goodness

sake.


I

m glad, you didn

t say
w
atch your step. Everybody else has. No, really, Roger is all right. I know he is a bit unorthodox and a bit piratical, but I can manage him.


Fatal words. All the same, if he is your only friend as yet around here, I hope you

ll have Corinne to stay.


Perhaps Corinne won

t want to leave you.


Seriously, Alison, seriously and honestly, Corinne doesn

t mean a thing to me.


Equally seriously, perhaps she thinks she does.


No, she doesn

t. We both know exactly where we stand. It isn

t in the least between us as it was between you and me, Alison. She knows that I

m not heartwhole.

Alison was silent. Suddenly she did not want Ralph to become personal and intimate. She wanted to be as detached as she had found it possible to be before his arrival. And as if he felt her mood, he fell silent too. They arrived at the call box and Ralph made his telephone call.


That

s settled,

he said as he came back to the car.

The Golden Hind at eight this evening.


I

m sorry, Ralph, if you didn

t want Roger.


That

s all right. I don

t mind the fellow—and he makes a foursome.


Good. Then we

ll get back and have our walk.

It was a grey and lowering day with a rough south-westerly wind blowing, and Lucy protested that it was sadistic of Alison to hound them out on such a day; but when they had started, she enjoyed it as much as the others. They crossed the fields in a group, but Roger saw to it that he was beside Alison when they split into pairs in the narrow

lane, and he lengthened his stride to increase the distance between the pairs.


I thought I was never going to get you to myself for a moment,

he grumbled.


Why should you want me to yourself w
h
en I can see my friends so seldom?

she asked.


I suppose in London you had dozens of friends, Alison?


One knows plenty of people—how many one can really call friends I don

t know.

BOOK: The Red Cliffs
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