Betrayal (41 page)

             
‘Not too bad,’ he thought. ‘I’ll rent a car at the airport when I arrive Sunday morning and drive to…no, not Morely’s Cross, that would be pushing it too much. I’ll drive to Totnes. What was the name of that hotel?’ he asked himself as he fired up his computer.    In a few minutes he had the details set.

             
He pushed himself up away from his desk. As he was putting on his coat he remembered. “Classes!” he almost shouted. He turned back to his desk calendar. He’d have to call Steeves, but not tonight. All he wanted to do now was go home.

             
As he locked the front door to Hazen Hall he promised himself to call Bill Steeves in the morning. He tapped his breast pocket, checking for the flight details and smiling as he started his car for the drive home.             

                                                                                    ***

Dan returned home to the empty house frustrated and angry. When he opened the door Lydia’s black cat came running out of the living room, took one look at him and ran off for the kitchen. Dan frowned. “Merry Christmas,” he said bitterly as he walked into the living room. The sight of the Christmas tree with Lydia’s wrapped presents still underneath saddened him and he felt as empty as the house.  He crossed the beige Abusson rug to the drinks table where he poured himself a tall glass of whiskey.  He sat down in the chair near the hearth and clicked the gas fire to life. The cheerfulness of the fire seemed to taunt his loneliness. Dan drank the whiskey, clicked off the gas fire and went to the bedroom. The previous two days had exhausted him. All he wanted to do was sleep. 

             
Before he undressed he checked his watch. Midnight. Lydia was now flying over the Atlantic somewhere.  He walked over to the dresser to lay his clothes out for the morning. He stared sightlessly into the mirror. “What was so important that she couldn’t even take time to open her gifts?” he asked the mirror.  He thought of the diamond and sapphire bracelet he had bought her, lying in its blue Birks box beneath the tree. His hands caressed the soft lamb’s wool sweater Lydia had given him for Christmas as he shoved it into a drawer. He couldn’t understand how she could leave him like this. 

             
The little black cat came to the bedroom door mewling loudly.  It saw Dan, hissed loudly, and ran off.   Dan slammed his hand down on the dresser. “Damn!” he shouted as he twisted to face the unmade bed.  ‘I should have gone with her,’ he thought as he stripped.  Kicking aside his clothes he crossed to the bathroom. He turned on the shower; waiting for the hot water he looked at her brass dressing table with its scattered make-up containers and cotton swabs. “Why wasn’t she here where she belonged?” he demanded of the mirror over the sink.  Climbing into the shower he remembered their lovemaking and his stomach lurched.  As he lathered his skin he dismissed the idea of following her to England.  “No,” he said aloud. “I have responsibilities,” he said, as he toweled off. “She’ll realize that I was right to stay behind,” he continued.  Then he climbed into the cold bed and turned off the light. ‘I know I am right,’ was the last thing he thought before he drifted off to sleep.

                                                                                    ***

Lydia awoke early Friday morning to find her blankets checkered with sunlight from the mullioned window. She climbed out of bed, the worn wood floor warm beneath her bare feet as she crossed to the window. Below in the garden she saw her Aunt directing Willis by pointing with her out-stretcher hand. “I want it over there. Willis.”

He answered with a shake of his head. “We’ll see about that,” Aunt Ella snapped, gathering her skirts and turning back towards the house.

             
Lydia turned back to the room.  It was a large corner room with two sets of windows, one overlooking the garden and churchyard, the other to the side of the house and the driveway.  The wood panels of the walls were time-darkened to a soft sheen. On the wall opposite the window stood a high Tallboy dresser. Lydia wondered how anyone could reach the three small drawers across the top of the dresser. They were a good six feet off the floor. The six larger drawers of the dresser offered lots of storage space. Lydia crossed the room to examine the carved detail of Chinese figures along the sides of the cabinet. It looked very old.

             
In the corner between the windows stood a small writing desk, across from which was a bow-fronted dresser. The room was pleasantly furnished, warm and comfortable, but for a moment Lydia wondered what she was doing here. The news that her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother had had the dream shattered Lydia’s confidence. She crossed back to the built-in wardrobe to select a skirt and blouse to wear, then she sat down at the dressing table to brush her hair and apply her make-up.  Lydia searched her small carry-on bag, but couldn’t find her mascara.  Her blush brush was missing too. Lydia sighed heavily; expelling the breath from her lungs she slumped forward. She wished Dan had come with her. “I can’t face this alone,” she said to her reflection in the mirror.

             
A knock at the door startled her. Lydia turned in her chair as the door opened. She frowned when she saw her Aunt, then, catching herself she waved gaily. ‘What was I thinking?’ she questioned herself. ‘Did I really expect that it would be Dan opening the door?’  Lydia struggled to her feet.

             
“Did you sleep well?” Ella asked as she crossed to Lydia’s side.

             
“Very well, thank you, it’s a very soft bed.”

             
“Yes, my niece liked to surround herself in softness. She preferred soft beds.”

             
“I like them too,” Lydia said shyly.

             
Ella smiled warmly. “Are you all settled in? Do you need anything?”

             
“It appears I have mislaid my mascara and my make-up brush. I don’t suppose you’d have one I could use?”

             
“Sorry,” Ella said. Turning to leave, then pausing, she turned back to Lydia. “Jan is going into Totnes later. It’s Market Day.   Perhaps you would like to go with her.”

             
“If you are sure she wouldn’t mind? Yes, I would like to get a few things.”

             
“You’ll be able to get your cosmetics at the chemists on the Fore Street.”

             
“The chemist’s? Oh, you mean the pharmacy. Yes, I am sure I can.”

             
“Boots is located on the Fore Street and I think there is also another chemist shop further down. Shall I ask?”

             
“Oh, no, Boots will be fine, I am sure.”

             
“Good, then I’ll tell Jan you will be joining her, shall I?”

             
“Yes, please,” Lydia replied, turning back to the dressing table.

             
“Good. Shall we go down? Jan has set out a proper English Breakfast in honor of your homecoming.”

             
“An English Breakfast,” Lydia repeated blankly.

             
“Yes, eggs Benedict, rashers of bacon, sausage, and fried tomato, with toast and tea, of course.”

             
“Sounds delicious.”

             
“It is when our Jan makes it. Shall we go down?”

             
Later Lydia piled into the estate’s Land Rover while Jan loaded her assorted shopping bags into the back.

             
“I have to make sure I have enough carrier bags for all my shopping,” Jan said, counting the cloth and burlap bags. “The Town Council wants to limit the use of plastic bags so merchants are charging 5p for each one a customer takes.  It’s a nuisance to remember the bags, but it does make sense for dear Mother Earth. Are we ready to go?”

“Yes,” Lydia answered buckling her seatbelt. It felt odd to be sitting as a passenger in what would be the driver’s seat in Canada. The British system of driving on the left was un-nerving and Lydia was determined not to reach for the brake pedal, but within moments of Jan pulling away from the house Lydia involuntarily slammed her foot down. She blushed wildly with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she said weakly, “just reflexes I guess.”

              Jan smiled and nodded as she turned the car up the laneway heading for the Kingsbridge road. Turning right on to the A381 Jan said, “Mrs. Ella says you will want to go to the chemists. There is a Boots store on the Fore Street, about halfway down. There is a car park on North Street behind the Butterwalk.”

             
“What’s the Butterwalk?”

             
Jan hesitated as if trying to remember something. “Mister Henry told me that in the olden days…” Jan flushed, paused and continued. “Now don’t you tell him what I said, he’ll think I was saying he is old enough to remember. Might be, mind you, but I’m not saying he is.  Anyways, the Butterwalk is a covered walkway on the Fore Street where farmers used to sell their butter, cream, eggs, and poultry, being out of the bright day, as it is. Anyways, you’ll see it soon enough. It’s not used for that purpose anymore. Now it’s just odd shops and things. Here we are, I’ll just park the car. Over there to your left is Totnes Castle. Did you know we had our very own castle, well the remains of one, anyways? Mister Henry told me that the Romans were the first settlers of Totnes, but the castle dates from the Norman invasion. Perhaps you would like a look around before we begin our shopping.”

             
“Yes, I would like to see it.  It’s beautiful.”

             
“I must admit, I don’t know much about it, but I agree it is lovely. Oh, no, it’s not open,” Jan said as they reached the castle gate. “I should have remembered, it’s only open in the summer, but you do get a great view of it from here.”

“Yes indeed you do,” Lydia replied, squeezing closer to the wooden gate to get a better look.

“Well, we had best be off. The Market has been open nearly an hour now. Here, we’ll walk down Castle Street to Fore Street.”

“What a lovely pub,” Lydia cried out in delight.

“Oh, yes, ‘The Castle’ free house has stood here since the Seventeenth Century. It is lovely, isn’t it?”

“What’s a free house? How is that different from a public house? I have read the two terms in books, but I don’t know what the difference is?”

“A free house is just that, the owner is free to choose what types of lagers and ales he serves. In a public house, or what we call a proper pub, the owner sells only certain types of house beers. The Castle is a free house. Nearly there,” Jan said, pushing along the sidewalk to the corner. The street bustled with people of all ages. Mothers pushed their tots in strollers, jostling seniors carrying wicker baskets. The Market Square was filled with awning-covered stalls selling, Lydia thought, every item under the sun. There were handicrafts from Bali and India, sellers offering kitchen utensils and household item; there were several dealers offering antique and modern furniture for sale. Other vendors sold fresh-baked breads and pastries, fruits and vegetables. There was handmade jewelry and used books; it was a shopper’s paradise.

             
Jan excused herself and went off to the fishmonger’s truck parked just inside the Market Square.

             
Lydia decided to walk around the market and absorb the atmosphere. The smell of the freshly-baked breads and the bright colors of the fruits and vegetables made Lydia hungry. She bought a sausage roll, delighting in the flaky, crust-covered morsel. Wiping her hands on a Kleenex she entered the Civic Hall to see what was inside. When she came back out into the winter sunlight she saw Jan waving madly.  Lydia hurried to her side.

             
“I’m almost finished here, perhaps now would be a good time for you to go down to Boots. Do you think you can find it on your own?”

             
“I’m sure. You say it’s just down this hill, right?”

             
“Yes, on the left side of the street. If you reach The Royal Seven Stars you have gone too far.”

             
“Oh, the hotel.  I had reservations to stay there. Would you mind if I walked down to see it?  Is it far?”

             
“Oh, no, just down Fore Street.  It’s just before you get to the Dart.”

             
“The Dart, what’s that?”

             
“Oh, sorry, I keep forgetting you have never been here before. I meant the River Dart, the hotel is just this side of the river. You go along; I’ll be here when you get back. Mind you, we should leave within an hour or so, so that I can get back to make lunch. Will that be enough time, do you think?” 

“Oh, yes, plenty.” Lydia looked at her watch. “It’s 9:50 now; suppose we meet up at 10:45, is that okay?”

“Perfect, see you then,” Jan said as she turned back towards the market.

Lydia walked down Totnes’ steep main street looking in the shop windows as she passed. She came to the Boots store but decided to continue on to the hotel and stop in the store on her way back to meet Jan. She walked on until she reached the bottom of the hill and The Royal Seven Stars hotel. A small brass plaque beside the door announced that there had been an Inn on this site since 1660.  Lydia opened the door to peek inside.
The large reception room doubled as a small pub, with small tables scattered in the window wells.  The room felt warm and welcoming, but Lydia knew she didn’t have time to investigate further. It was time to climb back up Fore Street to Boots and then back to Market Square. Lydia looked up at the steep street, drew breath, and began her climb; she was breathless by the time she reached Boots. A quick stop in their cosmetic department and she was off again to meet Jan.