Such is love (13 page)

"Oh, Van dear, it's really much too tiring for you to do this double journey every day." She hugged him with some of her old energy as she returned his kiss. But he shook his head and said:

"It's worth it when I get here. Had a good day, darling?"

"Yes, lovely. I'm lots stronger now and I can soon be moved back home."

"That wiU be good."

"Yes, I shall be thankful too. Though they're very, very kind here. And—and I shall miss having Toby coming in and out to see me."

Van didn't say anything for a moment and she saw that rather strained look return. It tugged at her heartstrings and made her feel wretchedly remorseful. Was he really trying to screw himself to do something he disliked intensely because he knew it would give her pleasure? Oh, she didn't want him to have to do that! And yet how else was she to have Toby?

"He'll grow to love him," Gwyneth told herself agitatedly. "He'd have to. He couldn't help it. It's only a question of getting used to the idea at first.'*

She looked up at him.

"What is it. Van?" Her heart beat quickly, but she managed to smile carelessly.

He sat down slowly on the side of the bed, in his favourite position with his arm round her,

"You're terribly anxious to have Toby home, really, aren't you?"

"Well, I " And then, to her horror, she suddenly

began to cry, so desperately and wildly that she thought he must surely know exactly what was the matter.

"Don't, child! Don't, don't cry like that." He held her close and kissed her hair and her neck, because she would not look up and let him kiss her face. "I didn't know you wanted him so badly. You shall have him. You shall have whatever you want, but for God's sake, don't distress yourself like this."

"Oh, I'm so sorry If s so absurd—I didn't mean—"

"Hush, darling." His voice was exceedingly tender. "You don't have to explain. You're nervous and upset still. And saving the child from danger made him even dearer to you."

"Yes, yes^that's it. I've been wondering and wondering how I could make you understand—make you want him, too. I thought and thought, and all the time I got more nervous, and then when there wasn't any need after all, I—oh, it's so stupid!"

"It's not stupid, my dear. It's perfectly natural." (Oh, if he-knew how natural!) "Only there wasn't any real need to be nervous. I'm very sorry now that I ever refused you at first."

"No, that was natural, too," she whispered as she put her arms up round his neck and hugged him with almost childlike fervour. "It was odd to—to want to have Toby to stay with us from the first moment I saw him. It must have seemed unkind and unreasonable to you. It's difficult to account for these impulses." She glanced at him nervously, but he was accepting what she had said quite calmly. "It wasn't only a simple impulse. Van."

"I know, dear. He is a very lovable child, and he seems to have the same instinctive affection for you that you have for him. As you say, one can't always account for these things."

"N-no, one can't."

Oh, blessed, blessed relief that it seemed a fairly natural

thing to Van! He even sounded already as though he might not necessarily consider the visit a purely temporary affair. She glanced at him timidly again.

"Van, you do like him, too, don't you?"

"Of course, child. No one could help it."

"And you won't mind having him for this visit?"

"No, certainly not. Particularly if it's going to make you so happy."

Her smile assured him of that.

"Shall I speak to Kellaby about it?"

"Oh, Van, I wish you would."

"Then I'll go and have a word with him now. I had mentioned the possibility already."

"And he didn't absolutely refuse?"

"Oh no." Van's smile was slightly grim. "He didn't absolutely refuse." And Gwyneth thought that perhaps there were not many people with sufficient courage to refuse Van anythmg absolutely.

She watched him go out of the room, and then lay there alone in the soft lamp-light, a great quiet stealing over her, so that she felt tranquil in a way she had not known since childhood.

In spite of everything—the anxiety, the fear, the nerve-strain—^she dozed contentedly, and when he came back to her much later, she was already drifting in the borderland between sleeping and waking. ^

Something in her sleepy content must.have amused as well as touched him, because she heard him laugh softly.

"All right, darling. Go to sleep now." He bent down and kissed her—but too lightly to wake her entirely. "We can have Toby for a month. I'll take you both back home as soon as the doctor will let you travel."

"Oh, Van, I do love you," she whispered, and fell asleep, still smiling.

The next morning it seemed there was no need for Van to go to London early. He came in and had breakfast with her, and he was still there when Toby came to pay his usual morning call.

Gwyneth was up and in an armchair that morning, and the change interested Toby immensely.

"Are you better?" He came and planted his small hands on the blanket which covered her knees.

"Oh yes, thank you, Toby. Lots better.**

"Can you walk again?"

"I expect so."

"Let me see."

"No, no, not just now." Van spoke for the first time and rather sternly.

Toby leant against Gwyneth's chair and said in a loud whisper:

"Do you have to do what that man tells you?"

Gwyneth laughed.

"No, I don't have to. But I like to. He's my husband, you know."

"Oh."

She glanced at Van and said in an undertone: "Do you suppose he knows yet?"

"I shouldn't think so."

"Shall I tell him?"

"I see no harm in it."

"Tell what?" Toby looked interestedly from one to the other. "Tell me, tell me!" And he began to get on to Gwyneth's knee.

She hugged the little figure up against her and laughed.

"Did anyone tell you that you were going to have a holiday?"

He shook his head.

"And be a 'gician and sing my song?" he asked eagerly.

"No, not that sort of holiday. Not just a day, but a whole month—^with me. Would you like to come and live with me for a month?"

"Yes, please."

He couldn't quite take it in, she saw.-

"And Freddie and Kevin and Gordon, too?" he wanted to know.

"No, just you."

He began to smile slowly.

"Can I take Toby Two?"

"Oh yes. You can take anything you like."

"And live with you?"

"Yes. And with my husband, too."

"In a little house?"

"Well, in a flat."

"Why is it flat? I never saw a flat house."

"No. It's part of a very big house."

"Like ttds one?"

*'Oh no—I can't explain." She laughed and hugged him, and then he laughed, too, because she did. "We'll take you in a big motor-car all the way to London. And I'll take you to see the parks and the shops and we'll go to the Zoo and see all the animals, and you shall choose what we shall have for tea every day, and have a little room all to yourself—and we'll be perfectly happy "

As she spoke his cheeks grew pinker and pinker and his eyes rounder and rounder.

"Chocolate biscuits!" he cried as she paused.

"Do you want chocolate biscuits?"

"Yes, please. For tea. That's what I'll choose."

"What?—every day?"

"Yes, please. Every day."

She laughed again. It was so easy to laugh when Toby was there. "Are you happy, Toby?" She kissed his pink cheek.

"Yes, thank you, I'm happy." He kissed her in return. And then suddenly his eye fell on Van who was standing watching this scene with a slight smile.

"Did he say I could come, too?" Toby indicated Van with an unmistakable finger.

"Oh yes, of course."

Toby and Van looked at each other, both with a faintly doubtful expression. Then the little boy slid slowly off Gwyneth's knee and went over to him.

"What?" Van looked down from his great height.

Toby held up his face.

For a moment Van didn't realize what he wanted. When he did, Gwyneth saw him flush quite darkly. A little awkwardly he picked up the child and looked at him.

Toby's doubts were already gone. He beamed at Van like a benevolent elf.

"What do you want?"

For the first time since she had known him, Gwyneth detected the faintest touch of nervousness in Van's tone.

"To kiss you," Toby said unblushingly.

A very odd expression came into Van's dark eyes. And then he and Toby solemnly exchanged a kiss.

CHAPTER SIX

"Can I push that thing that does the "honk-honk" again?"

"No, not just now."

"Does that clock tick?"

"Yes, I expect so."

"Can I listen to it?"

"If you like, but you won't hear much above the sound of the car."

"Have we gone a thousand miles yet?"

"No, not quite."

They were on their way home to London at last, and Toby, sitting in the front seat between Van and Gwyneth, was putting Van through a catechism to which he was submitting remarkably well. Almost everything they passed was new to the little boy and he was wild with pleasure and curiosity.

"Is this London?" he asked almost every time they came to the outskirts of a village, and Gwyneth had to assure him that London was still a long way further on.

By the time they did reach the outer suburbs he was actually fast asleep, worn out with excitement and the pleasures of discovery.

Van glanced at him and laughed.

"Has it all been a bit too much for him?"

"Just a little, I think. Oh, Van, how nice it is to be back."

"Yes. It's pretty good, isn't it?"

When they finally reached the flat, she tried to wake Toby up. But Van said:

"Here, let me take him. He's too heavy for you." And, picking the child up, he carried him into the building.

Betty, the maid who opened the door to them, smiled at Gwyneth and asked her how she was, with great solicitude.

"Quite a heroine you were, madam," she observed with admiration. "And this is the little boy?"

"Yes, this is the little boy," Van said, and handed him over to Betty.

Toby was beginning to rub his eyes now.

"I want to go to London," he said firmly, if sleepily, and was very pleased when Betty assured him he was already there.

"Is this a flat house?'* He looked round admiringly,

"A flat/' Gwyneth amended, but without much expectation of changing his own description of it.

"I'll take him and give him his bath, madam, and then, perhaps, you would like him to have his supper in the lounge."

*Tlease, Betty/*

When Betty and the little boy had departed, she wandered round the room saying: "Oh, Van, how lovely everything is! I'd forgotten how lovely."

He looked up with a slight laugh from his writing-desk.

"It's only lovely when you're here," he told her.

"Thanks, darling. I return the compliment."

She leant on the back of his chair and smiled down at him. She felt so light-hearted, for were not Van and Toby both hers for a whole month?

He was very much aware of her, she knew, because of the faint smile which just touched her mouth, but he appeared to be almost completely absorbed in the papers on his desk.

"Oh, thafs for -you." He handed over his shoulder a sheet torn from a memorandum pad. "It's the address and phone number of Paula's Terry What's-his-name."

She took the paper and straightened up slowly.

"You'll need it." He went on writing as he talked. "I told him you'd be writing to invite him here as soon as we were back and you felt well enough."

"Of course—^you saw him, didn't you? Had lunch with him while I was down at Greystones?" She slowly curled the piece of paper in her fingers.

"I did."

"What did you think of him?" She was glad she was standing behind him.

"Oh, pleasant enough fellow. I suppose a woman would call him good-looking. He's travelled a lot—talks quite interestingly. Considering Paula picked him up abroad, she might have done much worse."

"Might she?"

"Definitely." Van had only half his attention on the matter now.

She went and sat down in a low chair, near the fire which had been lighted as the evening had turned cool.

There was a hysterical desire in her to say: "He's Toby's

father, you know," and see how that would shatter the calm atmosphere of the room and her husband's preoccupation. But she was silent—staring into the fire, pretending to warm her hands.

It was not that she had forgotten the sword hanging over her—and, still more, over Paula. Only, in the excitement and happiness of having Toby, everything else had become remote and unreal. The difficulties there had seemed to roll away magically at a touch from Van. It had seemed as though all other difficulties must surely do the same.

But now she was home again, and grim realities were gathering round. In her hands was a paper bearing Terry's name and address. She had to write to him—invite him into her home—speak with him—^perhaps match her wits against his. And in all this she would not have Van's help this time. She had to do it alone.

The door opened just then and Toby came in, dressed in pyjamas and a dressing-gown, the cord of which trailed behind him in majestic abandon.

"I've had my bath," he announced. "And there was green soap. But Betty says green soap doesn't taste any nicer than white soap. Doesn't green soap taste nice?"

"No, dear," Gwyneth secured the dressing-gown cord and tied it round him, while he smiled at her all the time.

"I like London," he said. "And I like flat houses and green soap. And I like Betty," he added graciously, as Betty came in with a bowl of bread and milk, and two chocolate biscuits on a little plate.

They put him in a low chair and let him have a small table all to himself, which delighted him hugely.

"Look at me!" he cried invitingly to Van.

"Why?" But Van looked up and smiled across at him.

"Because I have a table all to myself."

"Very exclusive."

"What's sclusive?" he asked Gwyneth, and while she tried to explain, he spooned up his bread and milk, and occasionally paused to rearrange his two chocolate biscuits on their plate.