The Dutch Uncle Page 7

  ‘Stick to tomato juice,’ Miranda advised sagely. ‘This lot are well seasoned. And if you’re not used to it...’ She rolled her eyes ominously and gave an exaggerated shudder.

  Tessa studied the chattering groups dispersed round the big room. The faces were hard, eyes restless with the search for pleasure and a new kick; the mouths cynical, ready to shape to a brittle gaiety. Suddenly Tessa wished she had not accepted Dennis’s invitation so readily. She watched him, and felt unease return.

  He rejoined them, a plate in his hand.

  ‘I don’t know what they are, but they taste okay.’ He insinuated himself between the two girls and put his arms round their shoulders. ‘Comfy?’ He nuzzled the ear of each girl in turn.

  ‘Like hell we are!’ Miranda scoffed. ‘What a party! No music and two mouldy sausage rolls.’ She reached across Dennis and grabbed Tessa’s hand. ‘Come on, kid, we’ll starve if we wait for lover-boy here to feed us.’

  ‘I guess we’re a couple of stranded birds,’ she said mournfully when they had armed themselves with refreshments and found a secluded corner. She looked at her drink with distaste, all her former buoyancy deflated, and said sadly;

  ‘I’ve been jilted, God help me—and you are going to be taken for a ride you don’t want—unless you watch out.’

  This sobering thought had already occurred to Tessa.

  She said slowly, ‘I guess I could walk instead,’ and secretly wished she possessed some of Miranda’s tough bravado. And yet Miranda was vulnerable beneath it, she reflected, adding aloud, ‘I’m sorry you’ve been hurt,’ hoping to convey sympathy without appearing inquisitive.

  ‘I thought I was getting over it.’ Miranda sniffed. ‘But this is the first time I’ve come here since ... Oh, it’s the same old story. He met somebody else. Boring, isn’t it?’ Miranda shrugged. ‘I suppose I will get over it—where’s Dennis?’

  People were drifting out; some into the garden with their drinks, others into an adjoining room where a record player had begun to blare. Dennis loomed up, grinning and waving a bottle.

  Tessa smiled and shook her head, then her eyes widened. Behind Dennis the outer door had opened, wafting a cool freshness into the overheated atmosphere. A girl stood there, poise and assurance in her every line. At Tessa’s side, Miranda made a soft vulgar sound suggesting imminent nausea.

  Christine walked towards them.

  ‘Really, Dennis, I didn’t expect to find you here with Nick’s little protégée.’ Her smile was cool. ‘I’m sorry to be so late, but I got held up in Manchester. I’d never have made it if Nick hadn’t given me a lift back.’

  She was now the focal point. Tessa drew back, a wave of forlornness washing over her. Christine’s rather malicious commentary on the provincial dress show, which was drawing appreciative laughter, passed unheard over her head. Her own name spoken made her glance up sharply.

  Christine, her arm linked casually within Dennis’s, was saying sweetly: ‘I don’t think I ever told you about the first time I met Tessa. It was at Meads. She was trying to rescue my silly kitten...’

  Tessa stiffened. She was fully aware that Christine would colour the story with her own subtle tints of venom, but somehow she must pass it off lightly.

  The incident came back vividly; three years had not dulled the memory of Ming’s thin kitten wails as he scrabbled in the tree, the ridiculous jewelled collar and silver kid lead threatening to strangle him. Shinning a tree did not worry Tessa then, but she had not bargained for the needle-sharp claws digging into her shoulder as she tried to disentangle the lead and maintain her own balance. Even so, she would have completed the descent safely had not her full skirt caught on a broken branch jutting out several feet above safety.

  With the sound Christine was so aptly describing, Tessa had landed below in a spread-eagled, ungraceful heap, minus half her skirt, which now fluttered gaily ten feet overhead, but triumphantly clutching a badly frightened Siamese kitten. His wails had faded in the distance while Tessa faced three differing expressions: her mother’s horror and annoyance at a ruined frock, Nicholas’s fury born of concern, and—worst of all—the open amusement on Christine’s face. Regrettably, Tessa had lost her temper, and the ensuing hasty removal of her by Angie had finalized the complete loss of hard-won fifteen-year-old dignity. And there’d been the letters of apology she’d been forced to write afterwards. It was too painful to remember...

  Miranda darted a furious glance at Christine. ‘Cats have such a distorted sense of humour,’ she said venomously.

  A glint came into Dennis’s eyes. ‘You asked for that, my sweet,’ he said, interposing himself between Christine and Miranda.

  ‘But I’m not your sweet now.’ The silver-shaded lids half closed. ‘I don’t think I ever was.’

  ‘Oh, damn it all!’ He drained his glass. ‘That wasn’t necessary. I don’t know why you’ve got your knife into the kid.’

  ‘Really, Dennis!’ Christine’s smile was provocative. ‘Well, if you’re so worried about her, hadn’t you better rescue her? She seems to have disappeared.’

  He turned sharply. Tessa’s white stole lay over the back of a chair, but of Tessa herself there was no sign. He went to the terrace door. The long corridor was empty, then he saw her pale dress glowing faintly in the darkness of the garden. He hurried out to her and put an arm round her shoulders.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  She nodded mutely, and he pulled her towards him.

  ‘I’m sorry that happened. I never imagined she would—’

  ‘Oh, Dennis, take me home, please,’ Tessa pleaded. ‘It wasn’t your fault, but I can’t stay after—’ She stopped, and swallowed painfully.

  ‘It isn’t very late,’ he protested. ‘Stay a little while,’ he urged. ‘Don’t give her the satisfaction of knowing that she’s upset you.’ He tightened his hold, folding her against him, and looked down into her flushed face.

  His breath was warm on her cheek, and instinctively she recoiled from the smell of spirits. Mistaking her agitation, he urged, ‘Don’t you turn from me, Tessa.’ Then his mouth found hers and his hand touched her with the kind of caress she had never experienced.

  With a sob she tore herself free and stumbled away.

  ‘Tessa!’ he cried. ‘Wait!’

  She plunged into a small shrubbery and found her way barred by a gate. Her trembling fingers sought the catch and she passed through into a narrow lane which, to her thankfulness, led to the road a short distance away from the main entrance.

  Her one coherent thought was to phone for a taxi. She hurried along, trying to recall passing a kiosk on the earlier journey. A freshening breeze tugged at her hair and chilled her bare arms. Then she saw the latticed box in the distance, its light beckoning like a beacon.

  As she opened the door she thought she heard the sound of a car. It faded, however, and she stepped into the box, thankful for the sudden feeling of warmth. Then she realized that in her flight she had left behind not only her wrap but also her purse.

  I can’t go back, she thought anguishedly. Not to face ... Biting her lip, she stared at the tantalizing instrument. Slowly she pushed open the door and began to retrace her steps, a small, lonely figure in the heart of the sleeping countryside. She looked up at the vast indigo bowl of the sky, and felt the road ring hard and hollow under the soles of her thin shoes. Subconsciously she lightened her step to a noiseless tread, imagining she saw a shadow move on the road ahead.

  Suddenly she froze. The shadow was moving, and a hurried footfall came crisply through the still air. Was it Dennis? She shrank back, then a voice she had never dreamed of hearing at that time and place spoke sharply.

  ‘Is that you, Tessa?’

  With a great indrawn breath she cried, ‘Nicholas!’ and sped towards him to fling herself into his arms.

  He held her quietly until her body ceased to quiver and she looked tremulously into his set features. ‘No,’ he said grimly, ‘we’ll save the explanations. This is ne
ither the time nor the place.’

  His car stood in the drive. She hesitated, then said, ‘My purse and my stole...’

  He indicated the car. ‘Someone called Miranda gave them to me. She seemed rather concerned about you.’ He started the car and gave her a sidelong glance. ‘I suppose that was your lipstick all over Gerard’s face?’

  ‘No, I—I—yes, it was,’ she said confusedly. ‘But I didn’t want him to make love to me—I had to get away because Christine—she—’

  ‘Well,’ he said coldly, ‘and how did Christine come to be responsible for this unpleasant episode?’

  ‘She dragged up that awful tree business with Ming. I thought everybody had forgotten it. And Dennis and some others were there. It was horrible.’

  He drove on a little way before he said, ‘At any other time it would seem an amusing memory. You’re too sensitive, Tessa,’ he told her flatly. ‘And I find it difficult to believe that Christine would deliberately try to make you look foolish, or embarrass you.’

  ‘Was she with you in Manchester?’ she asked after a long pause.

  ‘If it’s of any interest to you, she was. Her car’s in dock just now and I gave her a lift home. She’s been staying with friends of mine.’ He paused, his expression hardening. ‘When she asked me to drop her at the Silver Birch I never dreamed you were inside. It wasn’t till I got back to Meads ... Whatever possessed you to allow Gerard to take you there? It hasn’t the best of reputations.’

  Bit by bit the story came out. Mary’s worries, the offer Dennis had made to help, and the invitation.

  ‘So you see,’ Tessa concluded, ‘I felt I couldn’t refuse after he’d been so kind. And he’s seemed a bit down in the dumps lately. Oh’—a worried frown creased her brow—‘do you think he’ll still let them have the cottage?’

  Nicholas slowed the car to a standstill and twisted round to face her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me all this? Why Gerard?’ His mouth tightened grimly. ‘You’re so incredibly naïve, Tessa, with your sense of obligations. I feel very much inclined to let the Thomas family get out of their own muddles.’

  He reached up to the driving mirror, tilting it towards her. ‘You’d better take a look at yourself before Mrs. Reyne sees you.’ He handed her a clean handkerchief.

  She viewed her reflection with repugnance, then dabbed at the smeared lipstick and in vain at the dark smudges under her eyes. When she had combed her hair he readjusted the mirror and drove on.

  Florence came forward rather anxiously when they got in.

  ‘I thought I’d wait up,’ she said. ‘Did you enjoy the party?’

  ‘It was an experience,’ said Tessa truthfully.

  ‘You needn’t stay up any longer,’ Nicholas put in hastily. ‘I’ll lock up as soon as I’ve put the car away.’

  Tessa avoided Florence’s eyes. ‘I’ll open the garage doors,’ she offered quickly, following him outside before he could reply. Indoors again a few minutes later, she faced Nicholas rather awkwardly.

  ‘Thank you for—for coming to meet me.’

  For a long moment he looked down at her, his face shadowed. At last he said, ‘What would you have done if I hadn’t come to meet you?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Her glance shifted. ‘Probably gone back—I couldn’t have done otherwise—and phoned for a taxi.’

  ‘I see.’ He turned away to lock the door and switch off the porch light. ‘Have you left something down here?’ he asked, seeing her still standing at the foot of the stairs.

  ‘I’m hungry.’ She saw his mouth compress, and added hastily, ‘Aren’t you, Nicholas? After driving back from Manchester.’

  ‘No,’ he said shortly. ‘Only tired. And I had a meal on the way back.’

  ‘Oh.’ Before his uncompromising attitude she went slowly upstairs. That meant he’d dined with Christine. Suddenly weary, she dropped on the stool by her dressing table and toyed listlessly with the trinkets set on the glass top. Sadly she shook the nodding Chinaman, shame welling within her as she remembered how Dennis had kissed her. At last she undressed and climbed between the cool sheets. As her hand hovered over the switch of her bedside lamp, a tap came at the door.

  ‘Come in,’ she called wonderingly, drawing the coverlet up to her chin.

  Her eyes widened when Nicholas entered with a tray. On it was a mug of steaming milk, and a plate holding a doorstep sandwich and a large slice of fruit cake. He set the tray down and murmured gravely, ‘Goodnight, Tessa,’ before he went out.

  With a sudden lightening of her heart, Tessa sat up and looked at the tray, uncertain if Nicholas had really come and gone so fleetingly. But the sandwich and the cake were no mirage, and the warm milk comforting.

  She lay down, a delightful glow pervading her entire being. Against her closed lids a picture formed, and suddenly all her jumbled unhappy emotions fused into one startling, but entirely satisfying whole. At last she knew her heart’s secret.

  It was Nicholas; it had always been Nicholas.

  Forgotten now, as though they had never existed, were Dennis and Christine. A smile curved her lips as she fell asleep.

  CHAPTER VI

  The early morning sunrays were poking inquisitive fingers through the chinks of the curtains when Tessa opened her eyes. She lay for a while in that delightful halfway state between sleeping and waking, gradually becoming aware of a new sense of expectancy, a difference that had not been present in former awakenings. She threw back the clothes and jumped out of bed with one lithe movement. Drawing the curtains back, she opened the window and leaned out, immediately conscious of the particular stillness of a Sunday morning in the heart of the countryside. The cool air caressed her bare arms as she savoured its sweetness.

  Suddenly a shrill twittering and a violent beating of wings disturbed the leaves of a tree near the window. She looked down. Below, his tail waving angrily and his whiskers quivering with rage, stalked Ming. His eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the impudent sparrows, who squawked and fluttered their defiance from their perch on a branch. Suddenly he sprang, and the birds soared heavenwards. Uttering frantic Siamese wails, he bemoaned to the world the heartlessness of birds who would not play with him.

  Tessa laughed, and called to him, and he redoubled his cries of woe. Her heartbeat quickened as Nicholas appeared below and clapped his hands sharply, causing Ming to dart skittishly into the house. Nicholas did not look up, and Tessa drew back, realizing it was time she began to dress.

  She hesitated over her wardrobe choice, and finally, after several changes of mind, decided on a slim-fitting lime green dress she had not yet worn. It was simply cut, and its belt, made entirely of linked white leaves of soft suede, was its highlight. She added a touch of colour to her lips and ran downstairs.

  Nicholas had already reached the coffee stage, and she hesitated at the door, looking at the familiar, yet newly strange dark head before going into the room. He rose to draw out her chair, and she felt the tingling of mounting colour as she met his gaze.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that business of the Thomases,’ he said, pouring himself a second cup of coffee. ‘I could speak to his employer, Mr. Fairgreaves, about him.’

  ‘Do you think he would give Jim his job back?’ she asked.

  ‘I couldn’t guarantee that,’ Nicholas said a trifle impatiently. ‘But we’re on fairly friendly terms. I once saved him from being stung by a crooked dealer when he was disposing of some rather good stuff. The details don’t matter now, but he was grateful at the time.’

  ‘I know Mary is unhappy at the thought of leaving,’ Tessa said thoughtfully. ‘I’m sure she would prefer to stay where they are. Only Jim may not like the idea of eating humble pie.’

  ‘I’m not concerned with Jim’s likes or dislikes,’ Nicholas stated brusquely. ‘But I am worried about your becoming involved with Gerard on their behalf. I’m responsible for your welfare at present.’

  ‘Strangely enough, my mother introduced me to Dennis.’ Tessa’s face was hidden as
she intently buttered a piece of toast. ‘I suppose I was foolish last night.’

  ‘Not exactly foolish,’ he said slowly, ‘only young and unwary. But I was shocked to find you wandering the road at that time, apparently uncertain of your next move.’

  ‘I was so thankful to see you,’ she admitted, meeting his eyes with some difficulty.

  ‘I rather gathered that.’ His tone was dry, and she glanced away quickly. To her relief, he changed the subject and asked:

  ‘What are you going to do today?’

  ‘Go to church this morning, and then have another go at sketching the cats.’

  He laughed. ‘Your pencil will have to race to catch that pair.’

  To her secret delight, he announced his intention of accompanying her to the service, and given the choice of walking or driving she decided in favour of the former.

  The church stood on the far side of the village, about a mile and a half distant from Meads. They strolled companionably along the quiet lanes, the first fall leaves crackling pleasantly beneath their feet, and Tessa was increasingly aware of the man at her side. He spoke little as they walked, and for the moment she was content.

  As she knelt in the grey stone church, hallowed by the centuries of prayer that had taken place within its walls, a peaceful calm stole into her heart. Nicholas glanced down at the uplifted young face as they stood to sing the first hymn and looked hastily back to his hymnal as, conscious of his gaze, she turned towards him, a faint pink stealing into her cheeks.

  After the service they came out to find a leaden, overcast sky. The bright promise of the morning had given way to a cold wind and the threat of heavy rain to come.

  ‘Better hurry,’ Nicholas advised. ‘The weather has broken.’

  They stepped out briskly. Tessa pulled her thin jacket tightly to her and hoped they would reach Meads before the storm broke. They had covered barely half the distance before the first big drops fell. Nicholas caught her hand and they began to run. She raised her head and laughed, suddenly finding an exhilaration in the driving wind and lashing rain as they pelted along the road. Then at the next bend she desisted, gasping and clutching her side.