The Red Cliffs (9 page)

“
Profitable?
”

“
Yes, fairly.
”

“
I
’
m lost in admiration,
”
he said.
“
Not for the first time today.
”

She laughed.

“
I think we have earned some tea,
”
she said.
“
I
’
ve earned a cigarette, but I
’
m right out.
”

“
There are some in the car. I got them this morning.
”

They walked through to the garage, and went out again through the door that gave on to the road. Roger offered her one of her cigarettes and lit it for her. Her head was bent over the match in his hand when the grey car went past with Neil driving. The car slowed up as if it was going to stop, but when Neil saw that the girl in the black trews and red sweater was Alison, he speeded up and swept on his way, with a face as black as thunder. Roger and Alison looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and both laughed.

“
I don
’
t think he realised who I was,
”
she said.
“
He hasn
’
t seen me in working gear before—and by the look on his face, he didn
’
t approve.
”

“
That
’
s his loss,
”
said Roger easily.

“
Well, now for the tea,
”
said Alison, dismissing Neil from her mind. They walked to the front door together. As they went, Roger put an arm about her shoulders, and Alison allowed it to stay there.

Neil swept along the rest of the drive to his own large house, his face set. He had not, at first sight, recognised Alison in her unfamiliar clothes, and he was infuriated to think that Roger Falcon was bringing his girls into the house that had been his own and then Evelyn
’
s. When he had recognised her, he was almost as infuriated to think that she would have Roger Falcon there. Falcon, of course, saw a fine chance of feathering his nest, thought an embittered Neil; and if the girl hadn
’
t the sense to see through him, he might well be a constant thorn in the flesh to Neil, always there on his doorstep. It was in any case a thorn that constantly pricked him to realise that the control of Combe Russet Cottage had gone completely out of his hands, that, set down in the middle of his own large property, was this desirable piece that he himself had allowed to slip into the hands of strangers. He reproached himself for not having seen the possibility. He prided himself on his foresight, yet he had let the cottage go to Evelyn with no strings attached. As a result, fellows like Falcon could take flibbertigibbet girls there, and Neil could do nothing about it.

He had a dinner party that evening. At seven
-
thirty, he was in his drawing room attending to the drinks, and shortly before eight his guests started to arrive. Dr. Perth with his daughter Sylvia came first.
“
Thought we
’
d be last,
”
grunted the doctor.
“
Surgery was full of coughs and colds. Raced to get here.
”
Neil brought them drinks and they settled close to the fire. Sylvia wore a long-sleeved but low
-
necked dress of green velvet and looked attractive, but she was becoming unhappily aware that she did not attract Neil.

Clive Rolands and his wife were next, bringing Mrs. Marport with them; and soon after them General and Mrs. Wilnutt completed the party, and when they had exchanged news and gossip
’
for a few minutes over their drinks, they went in to dinner.

Neil
’
s dinner parties were always enjoyable. Everybody in the district liked to be asked to them. They occurred about once a month and consisted usually of eight, but occasionally ten, people. The house was warm, the food was excellent and the wine flowed generously. The people were chosen to mix well, or for a community of interests, and it always seemed that conversation ranged more widely there than anywhere else.

Neil had seated Mrs. Marport on his right, and next to her the doctor, who dearly loved a gossip and to keep up with all that went on, and who leaned forward to say across Mrs. Marport to Neil:

“
By the way, Neil, we came along Smugglers Lane and up the long drive this evening, and I noticed that there were lights in Evelyn
’
s house. Is somebody living there now?
”

“
Tom Springett
’
s sister is there.
”

“
I thought she was going to sell it.
”

“
Yes, I thought so too. Apparently she is going to keep it and live there herself.
”

“
What sort of woman is she?
”

“
A young woman,
”
said Neil, and added to himself:
“
as obstinate and truculent as her troublesome brother.
”

“
Married?
”
asked the doctor.

“
Not that I know,
”
said Neil.

“
She doesn
’
t intend to live there alone?
”

“
I don
’
t know what her intentions are,
”
said Neil.
“
I haven
’
t had much to do with her. I feel that I
’
ve had all I need of the Springett family.
”

“
You shouldn
’
t judge the poor girl by her brother,
”
put in Mrs. Marport.
“
I thought she sounded sincere and quite charming.
”

“
You
’
ve met her?
”
asked the doctor.

For a moment Mrs. Marport looked slightly flustered. Then she gathered herself together and smiled at the doctor.

“
No, I had occasion to speak to her on the telephone once or twice.
”

Clive Rolands, hearing this from across the table, exchanged a glance with Neil, and they both waited to hear the doctor
’
s reply; but he had forgotten that there was no telephone at Combe Russet Cottage, and as Mrs. Rolands spoke to him from his other side, he turned to her at once, Alison forgotten. Mrs. Marport lowered her voice to say to Neil:

“
As a matter of fact, I wondered if I might meet her here tonight. I thought you might ask her.
”

“
Why should I?
”
asked Neil.

“
Well, she is new to the neighbourhood, and besides being your near neighbour, there are other ties between you.
”

“
There are no ties between us really, you know.
”

“
I think I shall call on her, anyway. I liked the sound of her and I liked her letters.
”

“
You
’
ll be very discreet, won
’
t you?
”

She smiled at him.

“
About the house? But of course.
”

“
And you could let her know that you
w
ould always be interested in acquiring it, if she changes her mind.
”

“
Yes, I
’
ll do that, Neil.
”

“
Bless you,
”
he said.
“
You
’
re a great help.
”

CHAPTER
FIVE

For some time Neil saw nothing of Alison. He avoided the long drive whenever possible, and used it only when he would have to go considerably out of his way by not doing so. Then, by coincidence, he saw her three times in one day.

He was driving past her house in the early morning, glancing as usual at the tangle of the front garden, when Alison, having heard his approach, stepped out on to the drive with her hand upraised, to stop him. He drew to an abrupt halt.

“
Good morning,
”
she said.
“
I wonder if you would be so kind as to give me a lift?
”

“
Certainly,
”
he said.
“
What
’
s the matter with your car?
”
For Alison
’
s small car was standing in the garage, with the doors wide open.

“
Won
’
t start,
”
said Alison.
“
It
’
s
getting old and temperamental.”

“
You did switch on?
”
he asked her. Her moment of anger was directed against herself for having given him the right to say this.

“
Yes, I switched on,
”
she said.

“
Dirty plugs maybe,
”
he suggested.
“
Or battery run down. Did you try the handle? I
’
ll have a look at her.
”

“
I
’
d much rather you gave me a lift,
”
she said.
“
I’
m going to be late.
”

“
Very well,
”
he said,
“
hop in.
”
He opened the door for her and she got in beside him. She looked so well turned out, with a topcoat open over a suit that matched it, and gloves and shoes that were impeccable, that he presumed she was off to some social occasion.

“
Station?
”
he asked her,
“
Have you a train to catch?
”

“
No. I want the High Street. I
’
m going to the office.
”

He wondered which office. Solicitor, house agent?
She would hardly call a bank the office. But he did
not ask.

Alison could not help comparing the splendour and comfort of this car with her own faithful but battered servant; nor his skilful but much too fast driving along the narrow lanes with her own cautious progress.

“
How will you get back?
”
he asked her.

“
I shall have to have a taxi.
”

“
I shall be coming back myself about lunch time. C
an
I give you another lift?
”

“
Oh, I don
’
t leave the office until five,
”
she said,
“
but thank you for the offer.
”

“
Do you mean you have a job?
”
he asked.

“
Yes, of course.
’
I have to live,
”
she answered.

“
Where is it?
”

“
Harvey Deeprose. Builder and contractor.
”

Neil laughed. It was the first time she had heard him laugh. He was always such a stern-looking man, she thought.

“
You know him?
”

“
Everybody knows him,
”
said Neil.

“
What
’
s so funny about him?
”

“
Almost everything. I never knew a man who could make so much commotion about the smallest thing—the sort to take a steamroller to crack an egg. His office is complete anarchy.
”

“
There
’
s a little less anarchy since I went into it,
”
said Alison, and in spite of herself, she smiled. She understood what Neil meant. Mr. Deeprose lived in a whirl. He had enormous driving force but little method. He chose good people to work for him and then did not trust them, but raced after them, supervised them, irritated them to the nth degree, and when they were on the point of leaving him, he calmed down, congratulated them on work well done, gave them a bonus, and all was harmony again: until the next time. He had congratulated himself, within earshot of Alison, on his smart new London secretary, and Alison played up to him. She enjoyed her job. His dictation was full of grammatical errors, which she put right for him. His desk was a chaos which she reduced to order. She had a calm and charming manner with callers, and she never forgot a message. She was introducing methodical systems which had been taken for granted for years in her old office, and she would not allow herself to get flustered when Mr. Deeprose was himself so flustered that he didn
’
t know which way to turn.

“
All the same,
”
she said.
“
He is a successful man, and I should think he
’
s going places.
”

“
But he works so painfully hard at it,
”
said Neil.
“
How do you put up with it?
”

“
By keeping calm. I smooth him down.
”

They had reached her office in the High Street, and Alison got out and thanked him before hurrying into the building. She sounded, thought Neil, a good deal more sensible than her brother; and as he drove on, he thought about her, and then about the chain of circumstances that had brought her here.

The second time he saw her that day was when he called at the ironmonger
’
s in the town on his way home from his business appointment. This was an extremely old-established firm, and although modern buildings were to be found at the back of the premises, the owner himself clung to his small office behind the shop, from which he could see what went on in the shop itself, and which was suggestive of something out of Dickens
’
novels. It did at least possess a telephone; and it was while Neil was waiting for the end of the ironmonger
’
s telephone call that he saw, through the glass upper half of the door, that Alison was in the shop.

She stood at a counter, being attended to by an old assistant, and handling chisels, planes, drills and a brace and bit as to the manner born. Surely, thought Neil, she wasn
’
t buying Deeprose
’
s tools for him as well as typing his letters. She had a confidence and even a kind of affection in handling the tools that another woman might have in handling lingerie or cosmetics; and her appearance suggested that these would be more in character, for she was extremely trim. Her topcoat had been left in the office, and. she stood there in her well-made suit with her high heels and her well-groomed hair, and the
j
ewel in her lapel that was probably imitation but pretty for all that. Certainly an anachronism in this centuries-old ironmonger
’
s shop. The assistant showed her to the door and bowed her out, and she gave him a dazzling smile. Yes, she was attractive, there was no denying that. Her brother Tom had also been attractive, with a charming smile, and
Neil knew only too well where that had led Evelyn. He had yet to know if Alison
’
s attraction was any different from Tom
’
s.

Alison had gone out in her lunch hour to buy these tools. She wanted to work again on her wood
-
carving. She had an idea for a mother and child, and did not yet know if it would turn out to be a Madonna and child. She would have liked to start that very evening, but she had promised Mrs. Marport to call at her house for drinks with a few
’
friends; and if the car woul
d start, she would have to go. I
f the car remained obdurate, however, she would have a whole evening in the workshop.

She left the office twenty minutes late, and as she did so, a young man opened the door of a green, van and said to her;

“
Miss Springett?
”

“
Yes,
”
said Alison.

“
Mr. Edgerton told me to pick you up and take you home.
”

“
I was on the way to the garage for a taxi, but
...
W
ell, thank you,
”
said Alison, and got in beside him.
“D
id you come specially?
”

“
No. I went to the station with some goods and waited for you on my way back.
”

So Alison was back in her house in good, time, and as she let herself in, found an envelope lying on the mat. She found that it had been delivered by hand, addressed simply in a firm hand to Miss Alison Springett. She read the note inside with mixed feelings.

“
Dear Miss Springett,

“
I have had my mechanic bring your car into my repair shop to find out why it would not go. The surprising thing seems to be that it ever went. It was certainly due for an overhaul, and although the hours at our disposal did not admit of a complete overhaul, I think you will find that it behaves much better now.

“
Yours sincerely,

“
Neil Edgerton.
”

Alison stood quite still, looking down at the letter in her hand. Her first feeling was one of pleasure because the car was in order now, even though it meant that she must go to Mrs. Marport
’
s house for drinks, and the second was one of resentment that Neil had once more taken her affairs into his hands without consulting her. Hard on its heels came a realisation of Tom
’
s position. She saw clearly how his self-confidence would be undermined if everything that he
w
anted to do for Evelyn was done by Neil instead, and how his manhood would be diminished. Perhaps Neil had only the best motives (although she doubted it) but certainly it was bad psychology. She had not been too pleased about stopping him this morning and asking for a lift. It had seemed to be imperative if she was to get to the office. But this put her in his debt and he was the last person to whom she wanted to be indebted.

The words that Roger had spoken when he talked of the incinerator came back to her.
“
The mighty Neil,
”
he had said,
“
slipped up on that one. There was nowhere to dispose of rubbish.
”
Had Neil stepped in to do everything for Evelyn and Tom? Had he never given them any peace, any time to sort themselves out in this new position? Hadn
’
t he ever realised how humiliating it all was for Tom? Or had it been quite otherwise? Had Evelyn gone to her brother for all these things? Had she turned back to him and away from Tom? Roger was the one who would probably know all this. She must talk to Roger.

At the moment, however, she had to get ready to go to Mrs. Marport. She bathed and put on a natural-coloured silk suit and her favourite French scent, and when she was ready went into the kitchen for a glass of milk and some biscuits, not sure when she would get her supper.

She had soon covered the four miles to her destination, a hamlet lying in a fold of the hills, and. guessed, which was Mrs
.
Marport
’
s house by the cars outside. She found herself in a room holding about a dozen people, and was led to one or two of them by
’
Mrs. Marport, who had called upon her some time ago, and introduced her to them. A voice behind her asked:

“
What
can I get vou. Miss Springett?”
And so Neil saw her for the third time that day, and thought that, in this group of people, she, was like an orchid in a cottage garden.
“
Mrs. Marport has me doing the donkey work.
”
He brought her a Martini and a dish of assorted savouries and stood beside her.

“
I must thank you,
”
began Alison,
“
for your help today
...”

“
Think nothing of it,
”
he said easily.
“
The car goes all right now?
”

“
Like a bird—there
’
s no comparison. But I ins
i
st on having a bill for the work.
”