Read The Red Cliffs Online

Authors: Eleanor Farnes

Tags: #Harlequin Romance 1969

The Red Cliffs (12 page)

BOOK: The Red Cliffs
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Would you call this Ralph a friend?


Certainly.


Or a good deal more than friend?

She hesitated on the point of telling him to mind his own business, and then relented.


No, I don

t think so,

she said.

We have known each other well for quite a time.


And went about together in London?


Yes.


And I daresay there are plenty more like him.


My friends, and what I do with my life, are entirely my affair, Roger.


Well, I was hoping that they were my affair as well,

he said.


Let

s wait for the others,

she said suddenly.


I suppose that

s a snub?

he asked.


No. I just want you to be sensible, Roger.


I don

t feel sensible where you

re concerned, Alison.


Then you

d better try,

she said sharply, suddenly wondering why she should allow herself to be pestered by these moody, intractable men. She waited resolutely until the others came up, and soon they came on to the headland where the four of them could walk abreast.


Ralph and I have been talking about your Young Miner, Alison,

said Lucy.

We both think it

s remarkably good. What are you going to do with it?


Send it to London.

She named the big store to which it would go.

I know they will take it.


It

s too good,

said Lucy,

to be used, as a kind of interior decoration.


When it comes down to facts,

said Alison,

isn

t all art a form of decoration?


It should be much more than that,

protested Ralph.


It can be,

said Alison.

So can my young miner. It depends what

s in the eye of the beholder. It says different things to different people.


You

re coming on tremendously, Alison, in your work.


I can breathe out here. I don

t feel frustrated. I

ve got several new ideas I

m longing to tackle, when I get the time. Time is my most precious commodity.

They talked for some time about Alison

s new ideas, and Roger did more listening than talking, for this was a side of Alison that he did not know at all. H
e had looked upon her woodcarvin
g as a harmless hobby, which, if it made money, was an asset. Lucy and. Ralph obviously looked upon it as an art, taking it seriously. Roger adjusted his ideas accordingly. The arts, whether painting, sculpture, or wood
-
carving, literature or the music they all seemed to love, bored him, but he gave no indication of the fact.

They came back to the house refreshed but pleasantly weary, and Roger said:


I think what we need is a drink. Shall I get them, Alison?


Yes, do, Roger. Though what I

d like is a cup of tea.


Me, too,

said Lucy.


I

ll join Roger in a drink,

said Ralph, resenting the fact that Roger had taken upon himself the duty of host.


I enjoyed my walk,

announced Lucy,

in spite of the day.


I hoped you would all see the place as I so often see if. Blue sea and red cliffs and green headlands; immense distances and a wonderful fresh air.


We got the fresh air,

laughed Lucy, as she went into the kitchen with Alison to make some tea.

Fresh from thousands of miles of Atlantic.

She arranged cups and saucers on a tray, and said thoughtfully:

Roger is awfully bossy about you, Alison.


Is he?

asked Alison, surprised.

I hadn

t noticed.


The way he hands out the drinks. The way he obviously manoeuvred to get you to himself on our walk. The way he scowls at Ralph and at me, as if we had no right to be here.

Alison laughed.


He isn

t usually bossy. If he is at the moment, it

s because his nose is out of joint.

Lucy said no more, but was determined that Corinne should soon be on the scene, if for no other reason than to spike Roger

s guns. She saw that Roger had worked himself into Alison

s life fairly unobtrusively, on the excuse of doing for her all the jobs that it was easier for a man to do than a woman, and on the strength of his past friendship with Tom. She did not dislike Roger, but she considered him unsuitable for Alison; and by the end of that day, she had more than enough of Roger and considered him even more unsuitable.

They had reached the Golden Hind a little before eight o

clock, and had gone into an attractive bar for an aperitif. Lucy had already noticed that Roger had helped himself to several drinks at the house, and at the hotel bar he added to that number. He drank more wine than anybody else at dinner, though, in the general laughter and conversation, she thought she was probably the only person who noticed it; and he had two brandies with coffee afterwards when everybody else had one. If he was not the worse for drink in the accepted sense, his manner had certainly worsened. He became almost rude to Ralph. When they got into the car to return to Combe Russet, he said roughly:

Alison is going to sit by me,

and nobody cared to contradict him. And at the house, to which he had returned with them to pick up his bicycle, he went in with them uninvited.


It

s so late, Roger,

protested Alison, dismayed to find him like this.

I think we

re all tired and will go straight to bed.


Then come and say goodnight to me,

he said, and it sounded like an order. Ralph stepped forward, looking so alarmingly annoyed and unlike himself that Alison made a sign to him to desist and went to the front door with Roger.


Roger,

she said with annoyance,

pull yourself together. I don

t like you at all like this; and I hoped you were going to get on well with my friends.


I

m sorry, Alison,

he said, realising that she was angry with him.

I can

t bear to see him treating you as his property.


Don

t be silly. He doesn

t. I

m nobody

s property. And now goodnight.


You

ve been treating me like an outsider all day,

he said resentfully.


That

s rubbish. Here are my friends who haven

t seen me for a long time—we have plenty to talk about—you should think yourself lucky we asked you to join us today.


Shall I see you tomorrow?


No. We have other plans.


There you are, you see. You don

t want me when you have them.


How childish can you get?

she said.

I don

t see you every day when they aren

t here. Now goodnight.

He put out an arm for her, but she stepped back decidedly. He turned and went out of the door, and she waited until the light of his cycle had wavered along the drive. Then she went back to the others. Ralph looked at her questioningly and saw the angry look on her face.


There is a man who gets truculent in his cups,

he said.


Isn

t it annoying?

said Alison.

He always behaves perfectly. Yes, really, Ralph. Impeccably. I

ve never known him to be like this—and now you

ll both worry about it. The poor thing is suffering from jealousy.


Don

t get too tied up with him, Alison,

said Lucy.


I don

t intend to get tied up with anybody at all,

said Alison.

And now he

s gone, let

s relax. Can we resuscitate that fire, Ralph?


I

ll try,

said Ralph,

but I thought you were tired.


Oh, that was just to get rid of Roger,

said Alison, and suddenly Ralph felt much more cheerful.

When at last Alison got to bed, after they had talked idly and comfortably by the fire, she had a sore throat from talking so much. She seemed to have been talking all day; in a convivial group, and separately with Lucy, who wanted her to have Corinne, with Ralph who warned her against Roger, and with Roger who was
j
ealous of Ralph. There had been no lack of companionship today.

The following day was again overcast, the sea and the sky grey, the wind fresh from the south-west. After breakfast, Alison and Ralph sat by the fire reading, but Lucy decided to go out for a walk.


Yesterday you thought I was sadistic to hound you out,

said Alison.

Nobody is driving you out today.


I feel more energetic this morning,

said Lucy placidly.

Besides, I

m curious to see Combe Russet House, so I

m going to walk along the drive and take a look.


Mind the ogre doesn

t get you,

said Alison, returning to her papers.


I

d encourage that particular ogre,

laughed Lucy, and went upstairs for her coat before letting herself out into the brisk morning. She set off along the drive, surprised by its length, admiring the fine old trees which bordered it and the countryside revealed between them; and had just rounded a bend which gave her a sight of the house and terrace and a wide sweep of gravel, when a grey car pulled up at sight of her.

BOOK: The Red Cliffs
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