Wishing Water (26 page)

‘Why? He isn’t married, is he?’ Lissa waited with trepidation as Jan raised brown eyes, so like Derry’s, to meet her questioning gaze and laugh.

‘Heavens, no. It’s Nick. We’ve been going out ever since we met that day we visited your family. We love each other and he wants to marry me.’
 

‘
Nick
? My
Nick?’ Lissa could hardly believe her ears.

‘Not
your
Nick any more.’
 

‘Oh, that’s wonderful.’

‘You don’t mind?’
 

‘Why should I mind? I’m delighted. You’re really going to marry Nick?’
 

Jan nodded, a wide happy smile lighting her face, giving it a new radiance. ‘He wants the wedding to be as soon as possible.’
 

Lissa squealed in delight. ‘I can’t believe it. It’s wonderful. But why keep it a secret? Why didn’t you tell me?’

Jan gave a shamefaced little shrug. ‘I know he had a crush on you for years. He never stopped talking about you the first few times we went out. I had to be sure he really liked me and wasn’t just using me to reach you.’

Her eyes were bright and Lissa’s heart clenched. ‘Oh, Jan. I’m sure Nick would never do such a thing. We were just good friends, family.’
 

She blinked. ‘I know that now. He says he does love you, as an honorary cousin, always will. But his feelings for me are…’ She blushed bright red. ‘Different.’ They were laughing now, squealing with delight.

‘Heavens, Derry! What time is it?’
 

‘Go on. Don’t be late. He’ll be as impatient as you. Make sure I’m chief bridesmaid, and you can do the same for me.’
 

They hugged one last time then Lissa set off, heels clicking on the slate pavements, a spring in her step, face shining with happiness. Oh, she was so thrilled about Nick and Jan, her two dearest friends. How good life was.

Bus station was rather a grand term for two shelters and a newsagent’s that doubled as a small booking office. These simple structures linked Carreckwater to the outside world. The railway had never got beyond Windermere, despite valiant efforts by eminent Victorians, so without a car, the bus was the only means of transport. It ran several times a day in the summer. But in the winter, as now, it came twice. If you were lucky. The driver had been known not to bother if he couldn’t rustle up enough passengers. Lissa worried that this might happen today. What if he were left stranded in Windermere?
 

She paced restlessly up and down, wishing she’d put on a coat over her new suit for it was bitterly cold. The wind swept down from the hills, swirling up toffee wrappings, discarded bus tickets and dried leaves and depositing them in untidy heaps in the open road, before blowing them all away again.

Would the bus never come?

And then she saw it. Small, red, and dearly familiar, it rumbled along as if it had all the time in the world. As if she were not waiting for her life to begin, her heart beating twenty to the dozen. Helen came running up, at the last minute as usual.

‘Is it here?’ she gasped, flushed and excited, and Lissa tried not to glance at the sparkle of diamonds on the third finger of her left hand.

The bus drew up and then Tony was leaping out, Helen was squealing and flinging herself ecstatically into his arms.

Lissa stepped forward, looking for Derry’s dearly loved face, eager for her own turn.

A touch on her elbow brought her spinning around, face alight with love. But it was Tony, pink with embarrassment. He was holding out an envelope and Lissa was staring at it as if it were poison.

A letter? She looked into Tony’s eyes and knew that her own were pleading. Tell me he’s here, they said, but Tony only shuffled his feet, thrust the letter into her reluctant fingers and gathering Helen close, walked quickly away into the wind.

The conductor rang the bell, the gears of the bus grated loud in the empty street and slowly the vehicle moved off. Lissa stood alone, staring at the envelope in her hand.

With trembling fingers she slit it open and quickly scanned the few words on the single page. He wasn’t coming. There it was in black and white. He was very sorry but there was no work for him in Carreckwater. Since he’d failed to realise his dreams in Manchester, he thought he might as well try London.

She felt her heart shrivel and her hopes crumble to dust. The pain in her breast was so bad she thought she must be dying.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ the letter said.

In touch? How? With a card each Christmas?

He’d signed it in his usual casual way. She must have imagined that he loved her. She must have dreamt those hours out on the fells when he’d made love to her with a passion that said he didn’t want to let her go, even for a moment. Imagined that he’d promised to love her for ever. Derry Colwith had broken his promise and rejected her, just like everyone else.

A wildness came over Lissa following the receipt of that letter. The subdued, withdrawn Lissa had gone. She wanted to be on the go all the time. She redecorated the boathouse, went dancing every Saturday night, worked far longer than was necessary in the shop, cleaning out corners of the stock room that had never seen the light of day. But she could not eradicate the pain and misery in her own heart.

Christmas came and both she and Jan visited Broombank.

Meg and Tam were delighted to have the family about them again. Lissa played the old harmonium and even Joe joined in with the happy carolling. His wife Connie came, as she always did for Christmas, however much she might avoid farm life for the rest of the year. Sally Ann and Meg put on a huge spread and everyone ate too much and laughed too loud and took turns with the endless washing up. Almost as if life were normal, Lissa thought.

She did her best not to feel envious of the lingering looks, the secret whispers and stolen kisses of the two lovers. Their happiness shone from them like a radiance. Sometimes Sally Ann would whisk her daughter-in-law-to-be off into a comer to talk about weddings and dresses and flowers.

Meg found she had a new audience who had not heard her sheep stories. Given chance she would talk endlessly about her beloved land, and the different qualities of staple in the wool she produced. Grandfather Joe told how he had won the war without leaving his own fireside.

The result was that Lissa felt more than ever an outsider in her own home. She didn’t seem to belong anywhere, or to anyone. Jan might tell her not to worry, that Derry’s crazy ambitions might take him off chasing rainbows but that he still cared, deep down, and would return. Lissa didn’t believe a word of it.

And there were no more letters. A Christmas card, as expected - to keep in touch. It carried no address and said little beyond the fact that he still had several agents to see.

Lissa didn’t know where she would have been during those first miserable weeks without the kindness of Philip Brandon. On his daily calls when he checked the shop and reported on Miss Stevens’ slow return to health, he also found time in his busy schedule to stop and chat, and try to cheer her up. He showed concern over her health and the fact that she looked so pale.

Lissa appreciated his concern. He sent her flowers and a box of chocolates. He often bought her a coffee in The Cobweb, a new coffee bar that had opened by the shore. He was so attentive that on occasions she found herself very nearly flirting with him, deciding he was really quite attractive, for all he was older than she.

But when he asked her for a date, she refused. ‘You must eat.’
 

‘I don’t ever seem to be hungry.’

‘He isn’t worth it, Lissa.’
 

‘`No,’ she said. ‘He isn’t.’
 

‘I would never let you down, I promise.’

‘Ah,’ she said, a sad smile on her lips. ‘Promises.’
 

When he asked her out to dinner again, she thought, to hell with it, why not? Recklessly she spent far more money than she could afford on a new dress in a daring off-the-shoulder style. She tucked up her hair into a stylish French pleat, wanting to look elegant. She’d been out with Philip Brandon before, and knew the kind of places he liked.

It proved to be a wonderful evening. He was charming and flattering, if not quite so amusing as Derry. He treated her as if she were made of Dresden, which right then was how she felt, so fragile she might break. He soothed her jangled nerves and told her not to blame herself for Derry’s defection. But she did. If she’d been worth loving he would still be here. As would her mother.

‘I don’t intend to trust you either,’ she told Philip, slanting her violet eyes up at him in her most bewitching manner.

‘What have I done?’ His handsome face looked so bleak she couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I only want you to be happy, Lissa.’
 

If she couldn’t trust Derry, who could she trust? But then she had loved Derry, and that was why it hurt so much. She had loved Meg and presumably her mother. She didn’t love Philip Brandon so how could he ever let her down?

Chapter Thirteen

The winter months passed and the first green shoots of spring appeared. The lilac-veined white blossoms of wood sorrel crowded the woodlands, wild daffodils lined the fringes of the blue-grey lakes. Wheatears and chiffchaffs were, as usual, the first birds to arrive for the summer months, followed by the willow warblers. Lissa sat at her window in the boathouse and wondered if Derry would fly home too. She ached for him so much the pain of her longing made her feel quite ill at times. But he didn’t come. Nor was there any news of him beyond one scribbled note.

‘Not the greatest letter writer in the world, is he? The young fool. It’s his pride. Won’t write till he’s something wonderful to tell us. He wants to prove himself.’
 

‘He doesn’t have to prove anything to me.’ Except that he loves me. Lissa firmed her lips, outlining them with a bright, red lipstick, remembering the time not so long ago when she’d watched Jan get ready to go out while she played Cinderella and stayed in all the time. Now the reverse was true. Jan complained she’d changed and was never home. Lissa preferred it that way. Staying in was bad for her. It gave her too much time to think.

Nor did she care how much make-up she wore. It helped somehow, to see a different face in the mirror than the one Derry had loved. She felt reckless enough to try anything, even going so far as to paint each of her nails a different colour. It was quite the rage, as were her pale blue nylon stockings, snapped seductively in place with a mere scrap of lace.

‘Oh, Lissa. How hard you’ve grown.’
 

Lissa blinked away the prick of tears that stung the backs of her eyes. ‘Not hard, self-protective. Necessary if one is to survive in this world. Or so I’ve discovered. I’ve certainly no intention of writing to Derry when he’s the one who failed to keep his promises. Let him pursue his dream. I come very low on his list of priorities.’
 

If I don’t stop talking about him, I’ll cry, and ruin all my careful composure. Snapping shut her mascara case she flung it into her bag.

Then she calmly smoothed the blue satin of her short evening dress with its hip hugging skirt, picked up the beaded black bag and smiled serenely at Jan in the mirror. ‘Will I do?’
 

How could anyone deny that Lissa Turner was beautiful? ‘I think you’re playing with fire. Please stop seeing Philip Brandon. He isn’t right
for you, really he isn’t. Too old for one thing.’
 

Lissa stared at her friend with cold, unseeing eyes. She didn’t care to be told what to do any more now than when she was as a rebellious adolescent. She certainly felt old enough to make up her own mind.

She’d partnered him for the New Year Ball at the Yacht Club, causing quite a stir amongst his friends. But why worry? He was good-looking, enjoyed her company and made her feel more confident about herself. He never seemed short of money, and if he wished to spend it on her, take her to the very best restaurants and order the finest wines, why shouldn’t she accept? He said it gave him enormous pleasure to see her happy. With Philip Brandon she could have fun without worrying about love and heartache and all of that dangerous nonsense.

And he made no demands upon her. Once, in his car, he had kissed her, and with too much champagne singing in her head she’d very nearly encouraged him to go further. Derry had taught her that loving could be delicious, so would it matter if she did? She’d already proved how wicked she was.

‘Unlike your foolish brother, I’m not a child with my head in the clouds, playing childish games in childish clothes. I gave up such nonsense years ago. I’m a woman and I enjoy the attention of an attractive male, particularly one who is reliable and courteous, gracious and charming and with impeccable manners. Philip is all of those things and I like him. Is that so wrong?’

Jan banged the kettle on the stove. ‘You’re a cruel, unforgiving woman with a heart of stone. Derry has lost everything and now he’s about to lose you.’
 

Lissa started as if Jan had struck her. ‘That was his choice, not mine.’

‘He’s doing this for you.’