Sister of the Bride (15 page)

As I hesitated wondering how I should reply he said quickly, ‘Hop in and I’ll drive you back to the cottage. Can’t have you two haring about the countryside at this time of night.’ But it was plain that he was only m
aking
conversation.

He turned into the lane and in the driving mirror I caught a glimpse of his eyes, frowningly intent, as he asked again, ‘Why are you leaving tomorrow, Esther
?
’

This time I was prepared and answered lightly, ‘Oh, I was to return anyway when Averil returned from abroad.’

‘But isn’t she here sooner than expected? According to my calculations she had another week yet to revel in the tropical sun and romantic moonlight.’

‘She decided to cut her holiday short,’ I said briefly. He drew the car up in front of the cottage gate and, turning, leaned his arms on the wheel and surveyed me with his penetrating glance. ‘Methinks I scent dirty work at the crossroads. Averil was wildly keen on this cruise: she wouldn’t have cut it short unless something pretty cataclysmic had occurred from her point of view—’

‘Rodney, you’d better go in now,’ I said quickly, ‘Slip upstairs quietly without waking your mother.’ His eyelids were drooping with fatigue and wordlessly he did as he was told.

‘There is only one consideration that would cause
Averil to tear back in such a hurry,’ Bob went on, his eyes on Rodney’s departing back, ‘and that would be the possibility that Vance might be slipping from between her fingers. Well, have I been correct in my diagnosis of the case
?
’

I glanced away uncomfortably as I remembered Averil’s accusation that I was deliberately trying to acquire Vance Ashmore.

‘We can be frank with one another, Esther,’ he said quietly. ‘You see, I know quite a lot about Averil. It’s not as if I were a nosey, interfering stranger.’ He drummed his fingers on the wheel as though considering what he was about to say,
t
hen went on abrupt
l
y. ‘At one time I thought that Averil might marry me. Looking back now I realize that it was ridiculously naive of me to imagine that someone like your sister might settle down contentedly in what she considers a one-horse town like Warefield, but when a man’s in love he won’t accept the obvious. I expect it amused her when she came here first to think how easily she could make me fall under her spell. It passed the time, but afterwards it became a bore for her—you see, I was serious, and when it struck her that I would make a nuisance of myself by hanging around when she had her sights set on Vance she didn’t waste ti
m
e in letting me know exactly where I stood as far as she was concerned.’

His face looked grim and he laughed bitterly. ‘Let’s say that when it came to my dismissal she didn’t mince her words. But then why should she? In her estimation I was a futureless, unambitious G.P. with nothing to offer her but a hideous red villa. For the rest of my life I would be occupied in nothing more interesting than coping with the local aches and pains.’

Why was he telling me this? I wondered, for instinctively I knew that he was not the type of man who would wear his heart on his sleeve. He had a reason for making these revelations, and I became suddenly conscious of the close intimacy of the car: it was as if we were isolated in a little self-sufficient world surrounded by darkness and moonlight while through the open window came the sweet smells of the country at night time.

As though aware of my reaction, he said, ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I’m telling you all this. It’s because although it’s clear you’ve no intention of divulging why you’re leaving, I think I can guess the reason. I’d say that Averil has been tipped off that Vance might be taking more than a passing interest in you and characteristically has picked a flaming row with you and is now chucking you out into the cold snow.’

When I didn’t answer, he went on, ‘Anyway, the reason for your leaving doesn’t really matter: all that counts is that you’ve made up your mind to go. You intend to leave Warefield tomorrow, isn’t that so?’

I nodded.

‘Look, Esther, I’ve a proposition to make. I’ve needed a receptionist for ages. That old gargoyle of a housekeeper of mine has been acting as a sort of makeshift one, but it’s all rather too much for her. Would you consider taking on the job? I could get lodgings for you quite easily in Warefield and later on, perhaps, if you got to like me a little, or as they say in the old-fashioned books, if you should ever feel for me something stronger than mere friendship, perhaps—’ He stopped. ‘I know it sounds a bit crude, but fundamentally I think you and I are similar sort of people.
We’re both sensible, down-to-earth types and even though we mightn’t be madly in love still we could pull along together and make a good life.’

Confused and taken by surprise as I was, yet I couldn’t but feel a little stab to my heart at his words. Sensible Esther who might some day turn into sensible, competent Mrs. Pritchard, adroit at dealing with hysterical mothers and their children, patiently waiting the meals until my husband returned from an emergency case, always on tap in times of crisis! It was somehow mortifying that Bob Pritchard with his keen doctor’s eye had immediately recognized the category I would fall into.

‘Thanks, Bob,’ I said a little drearily. ‘Thanks, that is, for the first part of your proposition. But somehow I’ve a feeling the second part wouldn’t work out.’

He patted my hand. ‘Well, let’s take things as they come,’ he gave a sudden disarming grin. ‘You will think over this receptionist business, won’t you? I’ll admit that I have an ulterior motive in offering it to you, but the fact is that I’m badly in need of someone to take things in hand and as you’ve had office experience you shouldn’t find it too difficult. At any rate I promise to be an easy-going boss.’

As I got out of the car I thanked him as warmly as I could, but the elation I had felt at first at the idea of being able to stay on at Warefield had evaporated. I would never marry Bob Pritchard, I knew deep in my heart, and wondered a little wryly what my mother would say were she to know that once again I had turned down what she would consider an excellent opportunity of settling myself in life. Not a brilliant marriage, of course, but vastly superior to being left on the shelf, she would consider it.

‘Think it over,’ Bob called as I moved away, ‘and let me know tomorrow so that I can make arrangements for you. By far the best arrangement, of course, would be for you to stay at the house, but Mrs. Purvis is a frightful old puritan and would probably throw a fit if you stayed under my roof even for a night.’ He waved and drove off and I stood at the gate for a moment feeling the soft night air about my face. So Bob Pritchard had offered me a job with a view to marriage, as it were, yet on neither side was there any elation at the idea. Had it been Averil how different his attitude would have been—but then I was only second-best. Were Bob and I ever to marry it would be second-best for both of us, for there was no longer any use in deceiving myself. I was deeply in love with Vance Ashmore, whether I wanted to be or not.

Slowly I walked up the path, dreading the coming day. As I opened the door and tiptoed upstairs I was hoping that Averil, tired out by her travels, might have slept through all the excitement.

I peeped into Rodney’s room and found that he was already asleep with Marmalade cosily curled up on the foot of his bed. I turned away and went along the corridor to my room and as I did so Averil’s door opened and she appeared, pulling about her shoulders a chiffon negligee in pale mauve. Her hair tumbled about her shoulders in disorder, she looked exceedingly beautiful and the thought struck me—Bob Pritchard disapproved of Averil, but would it be possible for him to cease loving her?

She opened her azure eyes wide. ‘What on earth is going on? Was that a car I heard drive away?’

I hesitated. If possible, I wanted to keep her in ignorance of Rodney’s escapade. The fact that he had attempted to run away because I was leaving would hardly ingratiate him with his mother, I knew. ‘It was Bob Pritchard,’ I said carefully. ‘He was on his way back from an emergency call.’

Averil, now fully awake, fastened the sash of her negligee about her waist with a decisive little tug. ‘And drew up at Cherry Cottage for tea and crumpets, I presume! Really, Esther, what kind of a fool do you take me for! All in all you seem to have been leading a fairly hectic sort of life since I left. Perhaps it’s as well I came back when I did—before you have the whole male population of Warefield dropping in at all hours of the night. And I do wish you had conducted your affairs a little more discreetly. Mrs. McAlister is an inveterate gossip, so it’s as well you’re clearing out tomorrow or you wouldn’t have a scrap of reputation left.’

I turned away wearily. It was impossible to argue with Averil and I was too tired myself by this time to attempt to get her to see reason.

‘You are going tomorrow, aren’t you?’ she asked sharply, with a note of apprehension in her voice. ‘I mean, Bob Pritchard didn’t call to suggest—’

‘Suggest what?’

She shrugged. ‘Oh, some alternative arrangement, perhaps.’

Her attitude aroused my curiosity. ‘And if he had, what difference would it make?’

For a moment she looked taken aback. ‘No difference, of course. You’re at perfect liberty to do what you want—as long as you leave here. But for your own sake perhaps it would be as well if you made a clean break. For one thing, it’s stupid to linger when a situation is no longer feasible and you might be only storing up—’ she paused, ‘unhappiness for yourself.’

I nodded. ‘Exactly what I feel too, Averil. No, don’t worry. I’m going tomorrow. I’m leaving Warefield for
good.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

NEXT morning, Averil left for Ashmore House soon after breakfast. During the meal she chatted brightly about the cruise and I could see she was already rehearsing the more innocuous incidents for Mrs. Ashmore’s entertainment. She had a gift for mimicry and exercised it to the full in describing her more eccentric shipboard acquaintances. In fact, from her manner, it was hard to believe that the scene on the previous night had really taken place. At the same time I was under no illusion that she had deviated from her original intention that I should be clear of Cherry Cottage by the time she returned from visiting Mrs. Ashmore.

‘By the way,’ she said casually, when breakfast was over and Mrs. McAlister had cleared the table, ‘when I get up to the Ashmores’ I’ll phone for a taxi to collect you. I’ll make your excuses to Vance—I mean, about your not staying on for the pageant of famous women. I’ll simply say something vague—something about your being needed at home, perhaps. After all, it’s simply a matter of time before Mother will be screaming for you to come back and you wouldn’t have been staying on much longer anyway. So, except for missing the charity affair, things would have worked out pretty much this way in the long run.’

I got the impression that she was reassuring herself and that, thinking things over, had become a little apprehensive about how Vance would receive the
news. I felt that she was belatedly assuring herself that her explanations for my absence would be accepted.

When she had gone I went into the kitchen to find Mrs. McAlister washing up in uncharacteristic silence, and I wondered how much she had overheard. After all, the cottage was so very tiny and Averil
’
s ringing tones must have carried quite clearly.

Before going upstairs to pack I stood at the latticed window for a moment. A clear blue sky outlined the apple trees and I saw bursts of pale pink blossom flutter to the ground.

M
rs. McAlister, following my gaze, sighed as she reached for a drying-towel. ‘One doesn’t notice the days passing: the blossom will be gone in no time, and if you ask me, this is the very nicest time of the year. When the fruit comes the orchard will be full of small boys—young Phillips now, I can
’
t count how many times I’ve chased him out, but back he comes, as bold as brass—as soon as the green apples are out
.’

She hesitated, then said carefully, ‘It’s a pity Mrs. Etherton turned up when she did and saw the mess those boys made of the living-room, for no doubt if she had stayed away a bit longer Mr. Vance would have got the cabinet repaired and things shipshape again before she came back. Then perhaps she wouldn’t have been so upset.’ She coughed discreetly and eyed me slyly as she polished a cup.

So she knew that it had been arranged that I was to
depart!

‘I’m going home, Mrs. McAlister,’ I said flat
l
y.

She nodded, tight-lipped. ‘So I gathered from something I overheard Mrs. Etherton say. Her voice was that loud I couldn’t help hearing,’ she added defensively. ‘Well, all I can say, Miss Esther, is that it’s a
c
rying shame that you should have to go. Not, mind you, that I didn’t warn you about young Phillips,’ she put in virtuously, ‘but all the same it is a bit hard that you
’
re leaving—just when we were all getting on fine too. Even young Rodney has improved a lot since you
’
ve come, I notice. But I’ll be plain with you, I never got on so well with Mrs. Etherton. She’s a bit moody for my taste, although I will say this for her, she never interferes with the running of the house, but then, to be quite candid, she doesn’t take much interest in domestic things. But then why should she, when she
’
s going to marry Mr. Ashmore? He has a staff to run Ashmore House and she won’t have to wet her fingers.
’

Again I caught her glance at me covertly. How much had she guessed concerning the situation between Averil and myself? I wondered. I had no intention, however, of giving her an excuse for gossip and said as brightly as I could, ‘I’d better get my things packed: my train leaves in about an hour.
’

‘How are you getting to the station?
’

‘Oh, my sister’s phoning for a taxi when she gets to the Ashmores’.’

‘
No doubt she will,’ Mrs. McAlister answered sardonically. ‘All the same, many a time I’ve said to Mrs. Etherton that she should have a phone put in here. It’s a lonesome wee place at night, and if anything happened, she said ominously, ‘there’d be no way of getting help.’

‘That will hardly concern me now,
’
I said ruefully. ‘And when my sister marries she’ll get all the protection she needs, I should imagine, at Ashmore House.
’

Mrs. McAlister sniffed. ‘That is as may be. Well, everyone to his own taste, but if it was me I wouldn’t live under the same roof with Mr. Eric for anything. You wouldn’t know what he’d be up to from one minute to the next. He fair gives me the creeps, so he does. But then Mrs. Etherton’s able for him, for I’ve often heard them at it hammer and tongs. But there, I’m holding you up with my gossip,’ she said, bustling into the sitting-room and beginning to dust energetica
l
ly.

There was no longer any excuse for putting off my departure and slowly I climbed the narrow stairs and
began to pack.

I was glad Rodney was at school, for with a child s elasticity he would soon forget the previous night’s adventures. Soon I would revert to my original status in his mind—Aunt Esther who stayed with Grandma and to whom from time to time he went on rather tiresome duty visits.

When I had packed Mrs. McAlister called me down for tea and apple tart. As she sagely remarked, a person always needed something in their stomach before travelling. The hands of the old grandfather clock seemed to spin around with increasing speed until I was seated in the taxi with Mrs. McAlister waving lachrymosely from the doorstep. I had a last glimpse of her roly-poly figure before the taxi rounded the bend in the land and Cherry Cottage with its Hansel and Gretel gables and roofs and air of having been transported directly from a German fairy-tale, was out of sight.

When I arrived at the station it was to find that I needn’t have urged the taxi-driver to hurry. I was in plenty of time and when I had purchased my ticket I strolled along the platform and seated myself on one of the grimy-looking benches. There were only a few people in, the station and I soon became aware that a figure with his back to me at the luggage counter was vaguely familiar. When he turned I was not surprised to see that it was Bob. As he caught sight of me he came along the platform with a quick stride carrying a large box. ‘Esther! You’re not leaving, are you?’ His tone of concern warmed my heart. It was good to know that one person at least regretted my departure, I thought bitterly, as he sat down on the bench putting the box on the seat beside him.

My first glow of warmth in seeing a familiar face gave way to regret that I hadn’t been able to slip away quietly without meeting him. It was clear that explanations would be expected, and something of the irritation I felt must have shown in my face, for he regarded me closely for a moment or two. ‘Deceitful girl! So you were going to sneak off without giving poor old Bob Pritchard an answer to his proposition! Do you think that’s fair?’

‘Well, no, I suppose it isn’t, Bob,’ I admitted guiltily, but I really didn’t think there would be much point in discussing it. I know how persuasive you can be and in spite of my better judgement I might be tempted to take you up on the offer.’

He raised his hands in mock despair. ‘How typically feminine! Why on earth, my good girl, shouldn’t you allow yourself to be persuaded, or have you simply taken an overwhelming dislike to both Warefield and myself?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Then why won’t you take the job? I won’t fly off the handle if you forget an appointment or if your typing isn’t up to scratch. Mrs. Purvis has me well
trained: I’ll be a most docile and amenable employer,
I can assure you of that.’

Impulsively I laid a hand on his arm. ‘Dear Bob, I know you will.’ And then I added with an attempt to match his lightness of tone, ‘Also, may I say my memory is very good and my typing very much up to scratch.’

Before I could withdraw my hand he caught it tigh
tl
y between his. ‘Then why are you in such a hurry to leave?’

I hesitated. The platform was almost deserted and as I turned my head the gleaming lines stretched into the distance looking as bleak and depressing as my own future. My train would be arriving soon along these unwavering austere lines that were so symbolic of the gloom that lay awaiting me and I gave a little shiver as though an icy hand had touched my heart. ‘You’re in love with Vance Ashmore, isn’t that it? But of course you don’t see yourself as standing an earthly chance with him—not while Averil has him on the hook. So you’re running out. Yes?’

I kept my head turned away without answering. ‘But surely, Esther, you must know what a dreadful mistake you’re making in allowing yourself to fall for a man like Vance. There are too many unexplained incidents in his life, and he’s not the type of man who believes in explaining his actions, so naturally all sorts of rumours have sprung up around him.’

‘What sort of rumours?’

He shrugged. ‘Oh, the usual old ones. That he had his eye on Eric’s inheritance and caused a convenient accident when they were out shooting one day. Of course I know Eric isn’t trustworthy. Still, as they say, there’s no smoke without fire. As well, apart from that, the circumstances of his friendship with Averil have caused an awful lot of talk. As I say, he has never been a man given to explaining his actions, and one thing has led to another and gradually a sort of mystery has grown up about Averil’s husband. A woman in the firm who was down on business spoke indiscreetly in a local pub and before you knew what had happened whispering was going on that Vance had disposed of competition. Apart from that, he’s just not the type of man that a girl like you should fall for.’

‘A girl like me,’ I repeated a little bitterly. ‘Perhaps you don t really know an awful lot about me.’

Enough to know that it’s not in character for you to act the coward.’

I
swung round on him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Simply that you’re running away. Why haven’t you the guts to stay on and start afresh here? You admit that you’re competent and have plenty of office experience. There are lots of things you could do here—
’

‘I don’t want to turn into another Sybil Wilson,’ I said shortly.

He smiled. ‘So you’ve heard of poor Sybil?’

‘Yes, I have,’ I answered quickly. ‘I’ve heard of her doglike devotion and that she doesn’t care what she does as long as she’s somewhere in the vicinity of
Vance Ashmore and that she wears glasses and—’ I was on the verge of tears.

‘
And has a face like a full moon,’ he concluded solemnly.
I laughed shakily.
‘All right, I know I’m not being sensible, but when one falls in love it’s difficult to
take a detached view of things.
But you will in time, Esther. Don’t run away now
or you’ll always be looking back and thinking of what might have been, whereas if
y
ou stay on you will, in time, be able to watch Averil and Vance march up to the
altar without turning a hair.’

‘I told you you were persuasive,’ I said ruefully.

‘You mean you’ll give up this idea of leaving Warefield?’ he said eagerly.

‘You paint such a gloomy picture of the future that I think I’d better give your plan a trial at least.’

‘Good. Then it’s time you and I stopped sitting here on this hard old bench philosophising.’ He jumped to his feet and catching me by the hand hustled me out of the station. ‘You’ll never guess what’s in the parcel,’ he said as he slung it into the back seat.

I shook my head.

He regarded me with an air of mock solemnity. ‘All right, I’ll give you three guesses.’

‘Bandages, perhaps.’

‘Just because I’m a doctor must you show so little imagination! Ridiculous creature! If this box were full of bandages I’d have enough dressings to mummify the whole countryside. Actually it’s an electric blanket for Mrs. Purvis’s birthday. Accidentally-on-purpose she let the news drop a few days ago—although to be quite frank I didn't think that people as monstrous as my housekeeper had birthdays. However, I took the hint and decided to splurge. The problem was
finding
a suitable present. Somehow perfume and negligees didn’t seem to suit her. And then I had a brainwave: I remembered that she’s always wailing and moaning about the cold, although I’m not surprised, as I’d say she has ice-water in her veins. Anyway, I sent to London for a super-duper blanket and it’s arrived today, which is very convenient, considering—’

‘Considering you’ll have to placate her. She’ll object to me. Isn’t that what you’re thinking of?’

He looked at me a lit
tl
e ruefully, ‘Well, I don’t think she’ll exactly welcome you with open arms. She’s used to ruling the roost and a young girl will put rather a spoke in her wheel. I suppose she may have a heart of gold,’ he said dryly as he started the car, ‘but I haven’t detected it so far. However, I’ll take you back now to the house and announce you and show you the ropes. I know it won’t take you long to get into things. After that we’ll find you somewhere to live nearby. Don’t look so apprehensive,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m merely exaggerating. I’ll bet you anything that once you get to know each other you’ll get on like a house on fire.’

His words did nothing to reassure me. I could imagine Mrs. Purvis’s reactions when she was introduced to me in my guise as the new secretary. I began to wish heartily that I’d taken that train. Perhaps at any other time the thought
o
f his housekeeper’s attitude wouldn’t have affected me so much, but I was shattered and confused by the events of the previous night and my departure that morning. Everything had happened so quickly that it had been impossible for me to find any equilibrium.

Mrs. Purvis’s reception proved to be every bit as disastrous as I had expected. When Bob had introduced us—an introduction which, considering what I knew of his attitude towards his housekeeper, showed surprising composure—she nodded stiffly and said, ‘Well, I’m sure, Dr. Bob, you’d be the best judge as to whether you need a secretary or not, but I always
understood that you were satisfied with the way
I
ran the place. I was always one for taking messages no matter what time of the day or night it was, and goodness knows I put up with a great deal considering I never know when you’ll be in for meals. But, as I say, who am I to speak? It’s not my place to criticize anything you may do or think.’