The Morning Gift (30 page)

The dingy was beached now. Quin took a rope from the bows and tied it round a jagged rock - and together they made their way towards the boathouse. Since she had walked in a trance towards the rim of the sea, Ruth had never once looked backwards to the land. Now she stopped dead and said: 'Oh, what is that? What is that place?'

'What do you mean?' Quin, at first, didn't understand the question.

'Up there. On the cliff. That building.'

'That? Why surely you know? That's Bowmont.'

Ruth was unlucky. She could have seen it in driving rain or in winter when the wind blew so hard that no one had time to look upwards. She could have seen it, as many had, when a shipwreck brought weeping women to the shore, or on a day when the notorious 'fret' made it no more than a threatening, looming shape. But she saw it on a halcyon morning and she saw it, almost, from the sea. She saw it - half home, half fortress - with the pale limestone of its walls turned to gold and the white horses licking softly against the cliffs it guarded. Gulls wheeled over the tower, and the long windows threw back the dazzle of the sun.

'You said it was a cold house on a cliff,' said Ruth when she could speak again.

'So it is. You'll see when you came to lunch on Sunday.'

Ruth shook her head. 'No,' she said quietly, 'I shan't be coming to lunch on Sunday. Nor on any other day.'

It was Kenneth Easton who had told the students that Verena would not be coming to the boathouse.

'She's staying up at Bowmont,' he said as the train steamed out of King's Cross Station. 'The Somervilles have invited her.' And as they stared at him: 'It's only natural -her family and the Professor's belong to the same world. It's what you'd expect.'

'Well, I wouldn't,' Sam had said staunchly. 'It's not like the Professor to single one student out.'

'Lady Plackett's going to be there as well. She and the Professor's aunt are old friends. And there's going to be a dance for Verena's birthday. The Somervilles insisted,' said Kenneth, well briefed in Verena's version of events.

For Pilly and Janet, the thought that they wouldn't have to share a dormitory with Verena came as a welcome relief, but Ruth had been silent for a while, staring out at the flat, rain-sodden fields. Quin's story and hers was over - yet it had hurt a little that in spite of what he had said about Verena, he cared for her after all.

It had not taken her long to school her thoughts and tell herself how little this concerned her, but she meant what she said about not coming to lunch. Exaltation was one thing, but seeing Verena Plackett lording it in the house which, if this had been a proper marriage, would have been her home, was quite another.

One could expect only so much uplift, even from the sea.

Pilly had come closest in the speculations about Verena's pyjamas. They were blue and mannish, but elasticated at the ankle for she wore them to do her exercises.

Verena always exercised with vigour, but this morning her press-ups had a particular elan and her thighs scissored the air with a special purpose, for she had decided, if all went as she hoped and she became Mrs Somerville, to accompany Quin on his expeditions, and fitness now was imperative.

Her window took in a view of the bay and the boathouse where the other students still slept. Verena had no objection to the laboratory; as Quinton's helpmeet and fellow researcher, she approved of a field station so close to the house, but the bringing up of students would not be encouraged. Quin's future, it seemed to her, lay more in some role like President of the Royal Society or head of an institute - it was surely a waste of time for such a man to spend time in teaching.

Next door, Lady Plackett heard the familiar bumps and thumps with satisfaction. Her daughter had made an excellent impression the night before and she herself, encouraged by the warmth of her welcome, had decided to stay for the duration of the field course so as to help in the preparations for Verena's dance. As for Miss Somerville - whom she had heard spoken of as unsociable to a degree - her friendliness was now explained. If her nephew really was contemplating giving his home away, it would be very much in her interest to see him married, and to a girl who would not permit such folly.

At a quarter to eight precisely, Verena and Lady Plackett descended and were greeted with relief by their hostess. Neither of them wore fur coats or asked about central heating, and though Miss Somerville made a suitable enquiry about the night they had passed, she realized at once that it was superfluous.

'Verena always sleeps well,' said Lady Plackett, and Verena, with a calm smile agreed.

Comely now arrived, and the old labrador with a white muzzle, and were permitted by Verena to wag their tails at least half a dozen times before being requested to 'Sit!' which they instantly did. Her credentials as a dog lover established, she moved over to the sideboard where she helped herself to bacon, sausages and scrambled eggs.

'Verena never puts on weight,' commented Lady Plackett fondly, and Miss Somerville saw that this might be so. 'All the Croft-Ellises can eat as much as they wish without putting on an ounce.'

But as they progressed to toast and marmalade, it was natural to enquire about the Professor. 'Has he breakfasted already?' Verena asked.

'Quin just has coffee over in his rooms. He's gone to Bowmont Cove to fetch the dinghy.'

The Placketts exchanged glances. If Quin was going to keep himself to himself in the tower and creep off to the boathouse at dawn, it might be necessary for Verena to change her routine.

Since work on the first day was not due to begin until 9.30, the Placketts accepted an invitation to look round the rest of the house which, arriving late the previous afternoon, they had not yet explored. Politely admiring everything they saw, they had the added satisfaction of being able to make comparisons. In the library, Verena was able to point out that her Croft-Ellis uncle also owned a set of Bewick woodcuts which were, perhaps, a little more extensive, and in the morning room Lady Plackett was reminded of the Petit Point stool covers which her grandmother had stitched when she first came to Rutland as a bride.

'In no way better than these, dear Miss Somerville, though the Duchess asked if she could copy them!'

A tour of the grounds followed. Crossing the lawn and the bridge over the ha-ha, they passed the door of the walled garden and Miss Somerville asked if they would like to see it.

'Ah yes,' said Lady Plackett. 'It's well known, isn't it? Of course we have a famous walled garden in Rutland too, as you probably know.'

Miss Somerville resisted the impulse to say that there was nowhere like her walled garden, and opened the door. She always wanted to put her finger to her lips when she did this, but Verena and Lady Plackett had already begun to admire, in loud, clear voices, the garden's lay-out, though Verena was able to point out a spot of canker on the stem of a viburnum which she thought might interest Elke Sonderstrom.

But though she endeavoured to conceal it, Verena was growing restive.

'I mustn't be late for work,' she said laughingly. The idea of Professor Somerville already mingling with the students was not attractive; she had particularly wanted to arrive in his company and make clear her special status as a house guest. 'I'll have to go and get my things.'

'We'll go in round the front,' said Miss Somerville, never able to resist a little early-morning viewing through her binoculars.

Lady Plackett's praise of the view from the sea terrace was warm enough to satisfy even Miss Somerville, but Verena, as she requested for a moment the loan of Miss Somerville's binoculars, seemed for some reason to be displeased.

'How extraordinary,' she said, fixing her eyes on two people standing together by the edge of the sea. One was Professor Somerville, looking unfamiliar in a navy sweater and rubber boots. The other was a girl, barefooted, with wind-blown, tossing hair. And to her mother: 'Unless I'm mistaken, Miss Berger has managed to get herself up here after all. I wonder what strings she pulled to achieve
that

Lady Plackett took the binoculars. Her sight was less keen than her daughter's but she too agreed that the girl was Ruth. She turned to Miss Somerville. 'This is unfortunate,' she said. 'And quite irregular. The girl is a Jewish refugee who seems to think that she is entitled to every sort of privilege.'

'One must not belittle her, of course,' said Verena, anxious to be fair. 'She works extremely hard. She is a waitress in a cafe in the north of London.'

'They say she brings in all sorts of trade,' said Lady Plackett meaningfully.

Miss Somerville sighed. She took back her binoculars, but she did not put them to her eyes. If there was one thing she did not wish to examine so early in the morning, it was a Jewish waitress on Bowmont beach.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The first day of the field course was, by tradition, spent close to Bowmont's shores. Though everyone worked hard, learning the sampling techniques they would need to make proper observations, there was a festive air among the students - for if this was science it was also a marvellous seaside holiday and the experienced staff made no attempt to curb their pleasure. Indeed Dr Felton himself, his hornrims turning to russet or amber to match the creatures he fished from the pools, looked like a boy let out of school - and Dr Elke, pacing the littoral in shorts and a straining, reindeer-covered sweater was a sight to make the gods themselves rejoice.

Which was as well, for the coast of North Northumberland was continuing to drive Ruth a little mad. She knew it was not really British to feel like this, but her state of ecstasy, though she tried to control it, continued to get the better of her. It got her by the throat when she saw a wave lift itself against the light so as to make a window for the sky; it came at her with the dazzle of a gull's wing; it was transmitted through her bare feet as she followed the wave ripples in the sand. She filled her pockets with shells and when her pockets were full, she fetched her sponge bag and filled that. She bit into the bladders of seaweed, choked on the salty liquid, and did it again.

And she beachcombed…

'Look, oh
look?
cried Ruth every ten minutes - and then whoever was closest had to go and examine what was undoubtedly a plank from the treasure chest of a Spanish galleon, or a coconut from the distant Indies. Dr Felton might point out, gently, the words 'Bentham and Son, Sanitary Engineers' on the back of the plank, making the galleon theory unlikely; Janet might turn the coconut round so as to reveal the stamp of a Newcastle grocer - but it made no difference to Ruth whose next find was as mysterious and magical as the one before.

Verena's approach to the delights of the seashore were different. She had appeared after breakfast in a white cable -knit sweater as pristine as her lab coat and now, followed by Kenneth Easton who received the contents of her net as once he had received the contents of her stomach, she moved unerringly over banks of seaweed and through rocky pools.

'Not, I think, a
bearded
horse mussel?' said Verena, addressing Dr Felton, but throwing a sidelong glance at the Professor who was showing Huw and Sam how to sink a box quadrant into a patch of sand. 'A horse mussel, but not, I would hazard, bearded?'