Under Gemini (37 page)

But of course, it wasn't a baby, it was twins. When Pamela was told, she became quite hysterical, and by the time I was allowed to see her, had made up her mind that she could not possibly cope with two babies. She would take one. And I would take the other.

The prospect, I don't mind admitting, appalled me. But Pamela, with that announcement off her chest, dried her eyes, and the babies, in two bassinets, were trundled into the room.

It was the first time either of us had seen you. Rose lay like a little flower, sleeping, with silky dark hair and seashell fists curled up under her chin. You, on the other hand, were bawling your head off and seemed to be covered with spots. Your mother was no fool. She reached out for Rose, Sister put the sleeping baby into her arms, and the choice had been made.

But I made a choice too. I couldn't bear you crying. You sounded heartbroken. I picked you up out of your crib, and held you up and you gave a great burp and stopped crying. You opened your eyes and we looked at each other. I'd never held a child before that was so tiny and so new, and I was completely unprepared for the effect it would have on me. I found myself filled with pride, fiercely possessive. You were my baby. Nothing and nobody was going to take you away from me.

So that is how it all came about. Should I have told you? I never knew the answer. Probably I should. But you were such a happy child, so complete and self-contained, it seemed insane to introduce unnecessary questions and possible insecurities into your young life. Pamela had gone, taking Rose with her. The divorce went through and I never saw either of them again.

Heredity and environment are puzzling factors. Rose sounds as though she were turning into a very passable replica of her mother. And yet I cannot allow myself to believe that under different circumstances, you would have turned into someone selfish, thoughtless, or dishonest.

Which is why your present situation leaves me so concerned. Not just for yourself and the young man, but for the Armstrongs. They sound the sort of people who deserve more than an empty deception. I advise you both to tell them the truth as soon as you can. The consequences may be unhappy, but you have no one to blame but yourselves.

When you have done this, I want you to come home. This—as I used to say when you were small—is not an asking, but a telling. There are many things we need to talk about, and you can take a little time to lick your wounds and recover from what has obviously been a traumatic episode.

Marcia sends her love with mine. You are my own child, and I am your loving

Father

She came to the end and wondered if she was going to cry. Antony waited. Flora looked up into his sympathetic face.

She said, “I've got to go home.”

“To Cornwall?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Right away.”

She handed him the letter to read. While he did this, she finished her coffee and got out of bed, pulling on her dressing gown and tying the cord. She went to the window and saw the low scud of black clouds. The tide had reached the flood, and cold gray water broke and streamed over the rocks beyond the garden. A few tattered gulls braved the weather, their wings banked to the wind. The lawn below the window was littered with leaves and the remains of broken slate which had blown from some roof.

Antony said, “That's a nice letter.”

“He's a nice man.”

“I feel I should come with you. Take the brunt of the storm.”

Flora was touched. She turned from the window to reassure him. “There's no need. Besides, you have enough problems of your own to sort out. Right here.”

“Do you want to go today?”

“Yes. Perhaps I can get a train from Tarbole.”

“The London train leaves at one o'clock.”

“Would you drive me to Tarbole?”

“I'd drive you to the ends of the earth if it would help.”

“Tarbole will do very nicely. And now I must get dressed. I must go and see Tuppy.”

“I'll leave you.” He laid down the letter, picked up the two empty mugs, and made for the door.

“Antony,” she said. He stopped and turned back. She took off the engagement ring. It was a little tight, and it took some effort to get it over her knuckle, but it was off at last. She went to lay it in his hand, and then reached up to kiss his cheek.

“You'd better put it somewhere safe. One day, you're going to need it again.”

“I don't know. I can't help feeling that it's not very lucky.”

Flora said encouragingly, “You're just a superstitious Highlander. Where's your thrifty streak? Just think how much it cost.”

He grinned, and put it into his pocket. “I'll be downstairs when you want me,” he told her.

*   *   *

She dressed and tidied her room, as though to leave it neat were the only thing that mattered. She picked up the letter from her father, and went out of the room and down the passage to where, she knew, Tuppy was waiting for her.

She knocked on the door. Tuppy called “Yes?” and Flora went in. Tuppy was reading the morning paper, but now she laid it down and took off her spectacles. Across the room, their eyes met, and she looked so grave that Flora's heart sank, and perhaps this showed in her face, for Tuppy smiled, and said lovingly, “Flora!” and the relief of not being called “Rose” any longer was so great that Flora simply shut the door and went across the room like a homing pigeon, straight into Tuppy's arms.

“I don't know what to say. I don't know how to say I'm sorry. I don't know how to ask you to forgive me.”

“I don't want you to start apologizing. What you and Antony did was very naughty, but I've had the night to think it over, and I realize now that you did it with the best intentions in the world. But then, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and I was so angry with Antony last night, I really could have slapped him.”

“Yes, he told me.”

“I suppose he thought I was on my last gasp, and ready to accept anything, even a lie. And as for Rose, thank goodness he's not going to marry her. Any girl who could treat Antony the way she did—running away with another man—without even having the good manners to explain. I think it was very thoughtless and cruel.”

“That was one of the reasons I came to Fernrigg. Because I wanted to help Antony.”

“I know. I understand. And I think it was very sweet of you. And how you've carried on all this week, being Rose, is beyond my comprehension. And being ill in the middle of it. You really have had a wretched time.”

“But you forgive me?”

Tuppy kissed her soundly. “My dear, I could never do anything else. Flora, or Rose, you are yourself. You've brought us all so much pleasure, so much happiness. My only sadness is that you and Antony don't seem to want to fall in love and get married. That's much more disappointing than having you tell me all those dreadful lies. But then, I know, falling in love isn't anything you can manipulate. Thank heavens. How boring life would become if it were. And now don't let's talk about it any more. I want to hear all about last night, and…”

“Tuppy.”

“Yes?” Tuppy's blue eyes were suddenly watchful.

“This morning I had a letter from my father. Antony may have told you, he's a schoolmaster, he lives in Cornwall. I wrote to him at the beginning of the week, because I felt I had to tell someone what was happening, and of course I couldn't tell any of you.”

“And what does your father say?”

“I thought you'd better read it.”

In silence, Tuppy put on her spectacles, and took the letter from Flora. She read it through, from beginning to end. When she had finished, “What an extraordinary story,” she murmured. “But what a very nice man he must be.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Are you going to go home?”

“Yes, I have to. Today. There's a train at one. Antony says he'll drive me to Tarbole.”

Tuppy's face became all at once drawn and old, her mouth bunched, her eyes shadowed. “I can't bear you to leave us.”

“I don't want to go.”

“But you'll come back. Promise me that you'll come back. Come back and see us all, whenever you want. Fernrigg will be waiting for you. You only have to say the word.”

“You still want me?”

“We want you because we love you. It's as simple as that.” Having made this clear, she reverted to her usual practical manner. “And your father's right. I think you must go home for a little.”

“I always hate saying goodbye. And I feel so badly about Jason and Isobel and the Wattys and Nurse. They've been so kind, and I can't imagine how I'm going to tell them…”

“I don't see why you should have to tell them anything. Just say a letter has come for you, and you have to leave. And when Antony comes back from the station, he can explain it to them all. He got you into this situation and that, for certain, is the very least he can do.”

“But all the people at the party last night?”

“The news will filter through the grapevine that the engagement is off. It will be a nine-day wonder, that's all.”

“But they'll have to know, sooner or later, that I was never Rose. They'll have to know sometime.”

“That bit of information will doubtless filter through too, and they'll wonder a little and then forget about it. After all, it isn't really that important. Nobody's been hurt. Nobody's heart has been broken.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“The truth always simplifies everything. And we have Hugh to thank for that. If it hadn't been for Hugh, taking charge, goodness knows how long this stupid farce would have gone on. We owe him everything. We always seem to be in his debt, if not on one score, then another. He's very fond of you, Flora. I wonder if you realize that? You probably don't because he's naturally shy of showing his emotions, but…”

The words died away. Flora sat intensely still, staring down at her own clasped hands. The knuckles showed white and her dark lashes made smudges against the sudden pallor of her face.

With a perception sharpened by years of dealing with young people, Tuppy caught her distress. It chilled the air, and stemmed from some emotion far deeper than a natural reluctance to say goodbye. Much concerned, Tuppy laid her own hand over Flora's and found it icy cold.

Flora did not look up. “It's all right,” she said, sounding as if she were trying to reassure Tuppy about some unbearable pain she was suffering.

“My dear child, you must tell me. Has someone upset you? Is it Antony?”

“No, of course not…”

Tuppy cast her mind back, searching for clues. They had been talking about Hugh, and … Hugh. Hugh? As though Flora had spoken the name aloud, Tuppy knew.

“It's Hugh.”

“Oh, Tuppy, don't talk about it.”

“But of course we must talk about it. I can't bear you to be so unhappy. Are … are you in love with him?”

Flora looked up, her eyes dark as bruises. “I think I must be,” she said, sounding completely uncertain.

Tuppy was astounded. Not because Flora had fallen in love with Hugh, which Tuppy found totally understandable. But because it had happened without Tuppy knowing all about it.

“But I can't imagine, when…”

“No,” said Flora, suddenly blunt. “Neither can I. I can't imagine when it happened, or why, or how. I only know that it can't have any future.”

“Why can it have no future?”

“Because Hugh's the man he is. He's been hurt once and he doesn't intend getting hurt again. He's made a life for himself, he doesn't want to share it, and he doesn't need another wife. He won't let himself need one. And even if he did, he doesn't seem to think he has enough to offer her … I mean material things.”

“You appear to have talked it over in some detail.”

“Not really. It was just last night, before the party. I'd been drinking champagne, and somehow that made it easier to talk.”

“Does he realize how you feel?”

“Tuppy, I have a little pride left. Short of flinging myself at his head, I seem to have reached the end of the road.”

“Did he talk about Diana?”

“Not last night, but he has told me about her.”

“He would never have done that unless he felt very close to you.”

“You can be close to a person, but that doesn't mean you're in love with them.”

“Hugh is stubborn and very proud,” Tuppy warned her.

“You don't have to tell me that.” Flora smiled, but there wasn't much joy behind it. “Last night, we were going to have supper together. He said he wasn't going to dance with me because everybody else would want to dance with me, but we'd have supper together. So stupid to let it be so important … but it was important, Tuppy. And I thought perhaps it was important to him, too. But when the time came, he'd gone. There was a phone call, a baby coming. I don't know. But he'd simply gone.”

“My dear, he's a doctor.”

“Couldn't he have told me? Couldn't he have said goodbye?”

“Perhaps he couldn't find you. Perhaps he couldn't take time to find you.”

“I shouldn't mind, should I? But it did matter, terribly.”

“Will you be able to go away, and forget him?”

“I don't know. I don't seem to know the answer to anything. I must be out of my mind.”

“On the contrary, I think you are exceptionally wise. Hugh is a very special person, but he keeps his qualities well hidden beneath that manner, that sharply honed tongue of his. It takes a person of considerable perception to realize that the qualities are really there.”

“What am I going to do?” Flora spoke quietly, but it sounded to Tuppy like a cry from the heart.

“What you were always going to do. Go home to your father. Pack your clothes and find Antony and say goodbye and drive to the station. It's as easy as that.”