That Would Be a Fairy Tale (12 page)

Suspecting he had a last-minute problem with the arrangements for the party, she knew she could not refuse to see him and so she said, ‘Show him into —’

But at that moment, he walked into the kitchen.

‘I showed myself in,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to take up too much of your time.’

‘Thank you, Gibson,’ said Cicely. ‘You may carry on.’

Gibson went out into the garden to pick some herbs for dinner.

Cicely looked at Mr Evington.

‘I just wanted — ‘ He broke off as the range began making an ominous banging noise.

Cicely gave an exclamation of vexation, turning to look at it. ‘The range is such a nuisance,’ she began. ‘If it isn’t one thing, it’s — ‘ But got no further, for Mr Evington had seized hold of her arm.

‘Get out of here,’ he said. ‘Now.’

‘But -’

There was time for no more. He opened the back door and pushed her out.

‘What -?’ asked Cicely, as the banging grew louder, but the rest of her sentence was drowned out by the noise.

Mr Evington did not falter. He steered her down the path, and pushed her unceremoniously out of the gate. He had just done so when there came the most almighty explosion from within the house. Cicely turned round in shock. The kitchen window had been blown out and the air was full of the tinkling sound of breaking glass.

She turned to Mr Evington, eyes wide and questioning.

‘The back boiler,’ he said tersely. ‘It’s exploded.’

‘The back boiler exploded?’ asked Cicely, still feeling stunned. It had all happened so quickly. The explosion had been terribly loud and the breaking glass had momentarily frightened her; and Mr Evington’s man-handling, necessary though it had been, had shaken her nerves.

‘The fire was built up way too high,’ he said. ‘By the look of it the range was an old one. It was inevitable this would happen.’

‘If you hadn’t come in when you did . . . ’ said Cicely, turning to him, her face white.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ he said.

No, Cicely thought. Better not.

‘You’re shivering,’ he said.

He was right. The shock had taken its toll. She felt suddenly cold.

He took off his coat and wrapped it round her shoulders.

‘I’m perfectly all right,’ she said. She felt foolish for having given way to shock and did not want him to think her a coward.

‘Of course you are,’ he said, leading her over to the grass verge. ‘But keep this on anyway.’

Cicely realized it would be useless to protest. And besides, the extra warmth was comforting. It wrapped her round, and so did the scent of Alex Evington. Faint but unmistakeable it clung to his jacket, a mixture of  cedar after-shave and expensive cologne.

At that minute Gibson, looking considerably shaken, emerged from behind the house.

‘Ah. Gibson,’ said Mr Evington, taking charge of the situation. ‘I need you to go and get help. There’s going to be a lot of cleaning up to do. Not to mention the risk from the fire.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Gibson.

Cicely, about to object to Mr Evington giving Gibson  orders, suddenly realized that he had done it in order to settle Gibson’s nerves. By giving him something useful to do, Mr Evington had taken his thoughts from the explosion and directed them into more useful channels.

‘Right away, sir,’ said Gibson, disappearing down the lane.

‘Are you all right?’ Alex asked, taking her hands and chafing them.

‘Yes. Just a little shaken, that’s all.’

‘It’s not surprising.’

What was surprising was that, this time, his touch was not electric. It was comforting. She had a sudden longing to rest her head on his shoulder until she should have recovered from the shock. She fought against it, and in order to try and divert her thoughts, she asked, ‘You knew at once what was about to happen. Have you had a similar problem with your range?’

‘No.’ He settled himself more comfortably on the grass beside her, raising one leg in front of him, bent at the knee. ‘But I’ve seen boilers explode on steam ships.’

Cicely’s interest was caught. She had heard from
Alice
, courtesy of local neighbourhood gossip, that Mr Evington had worked as a stoker. Here was a chance for her to learn more about him. ‘You used to work on them?’

‘Yes.’ He fell silent, and Cicely thought he was not going to say anything else, but then he said, ‘I worked on or around ships for much of my early life. I grew up in
Liverpool
, and when I was a boy it was a good way to make money.’

‘Is that why you resent the landed classes so?’ she asked. ‘Because your early life was hard?’ It was a bold question, but she was interested to know.

‘No. Not really.’

‘Then why.’

He hesitated. ‘I . . . have my reasons.’

He was not more forthcoming, and Cicely did not feel equal to questioning him further. But after a few minutes he said, ‘Even so, I was wrong to show how I felt. I haven’t hidden my dislike very well, I fear.’

‘Why should you?’ she asked simply.

‘Good manners?’ he suggested humorously.

‘There is that,’ said Cicely with a smile. Adding wryly, ‘But I am not entitled to complain. My own manners have hardly been a model of decorum.’

He took her hands and she felt a sudden change inside her. His touch was no longer comforting. Instead it was stimulating.

Before he could do anything more the villagers, roused by the explosion, started to arrive at the scene.
Alice
was the first.

‘Cicely! Goodness! What happened?’ she asked.

‘The back boiler,’ said Cicely. ‘It exploded.’

‘No! How awful.’
Alice
took in the shattered window and the ragged hole that had been torn in the kitchen wall. ‘Goodness. What a mess.’

‘It is. A terrible mess,’ said Mr Evington. He turned back to Cicely. ‘You can’t stay here,’ he said, suddenly practical. ‘There is a gaping hole in the wall, and it will take at least a week to fix it. You will have to come and stay at the Manor.’

‘Oh, no,’ Cicely protested. ‘I couldn’t possibly — ‘

‘I won’t take no for an answer,’ he said firmly. ‘There is plenty of room and the house is geared up for guests. No one would be surprised at you making one of their number and it would give you somewhere to stay until the Lodge has been repaired.’

‘No, I don’t think it would be proper — ‘ Cicely began again, suddenly anxious at the thought of staying beneath the same roof as Mr Evington.

‘Miss Babbage would be invited, too,’ he said. He turned to
Alice
. ‘If you and your mother would do me the honour of accepting an invitation you could keep Miss Haringay company and provide her with a chaperon, as well as, I hope, having an enjoyable time.’

‘Oh, yes!’ said
Alice
her eyes shining, and saying as plainly as words could do,
A week at the Manor, with Alex Evington? Wonderful
!

Cicely looked from one to the other of them, and then back at the ruined side of the Lodge.

She considered her options. On the one hand, she knew that
Alice
would invite her to stay if she refused Mr Evington’s offer. On the other hand it would put a strain on the Babbage’s small household - which consisted of Alice, her mother, a maid of all work and a manservant - to cater for an unexpected guest. Whereas Mr Evington, as he himself had said, was already prepared for guests. And with such a large gathering there could be nothing improper about her accepting his invitation, especially as Alice and her mother were to go as well.

The question was, could she spend a week with Mr Evington and not give way to her unruly feelings, which tempted her to travel down unexplored pathways into a whole new world whenever he was near?

Seeing her hesitate, Alex organised some privacy for them by saying to
Alice
, ‘If you could retrieve Miss Haringay’s shoe?’

Cicely looked down at her right foot. In all the confusion she had barely noticed that she had lost it when being manhandled out of the gate.

‘Of course,’ said
Alice
, glad to be of use.

She ran off.

‘You need not be afraid of me,’ he said, looking down into Cicely’s eyes and seeking to reassure her. ‘If you come to the Manor you will have nothing to fear.’

‘I am not afraid of you,’ she said. But her voice caught in her throat.

‘No?’

There was a sudden tension in the air.

She swallowed. ‘No.’ She almost said,
I am afraid of myself
, but managed to stop herself just in time. But it was true, she
was
afraid of herself. When she was with Mr Evington she discovered parts of herself that she had not known existed. He had touched something inside her that had been laying dormant, and though it was wonderful to experience the new and scintillating feelings he awakened inside her, it was alarming as well.

‘Then you have no reason to refuse my invitation to stay at the Manor,’ he said.

‘You are very kind.’

His mouth twitched humorously, as though kindness was not the motivation for his offer.

Is it wise? she asked herself, before committing herself to an answer. But wise or not she had no real alternative. ‘Thank you. I   accept.’

‘There is one thing.’ He hesitated.

‘Yes?’

‘If you are to be my guest, you can’t go on calling me Mr Evington.’

She felt a shiver of apprehension. She knew what he was going to say next.

‘You must call me Alex.’

There was something intimate about the notion, and she knew that it would make it harder for him to treat him with the distant manner necessary. And yet it was unavoidable.

‘And at the party you must call me Cicely,’ she said.

‘Cicely.’ His voice was soft and sultry.

Fortunately for Cicely’s composure, at that moment
Alice
returned, bearing her shoe.

‘I’ve checked to make sure there’s no glass in it,’ she said.

‘Thank you.’

Cicely tried, with little success, to dismiss the memory of Alex’s voice as it had caressed her name, and slipped the shoe back on her foot.

‘Miss Haringay has accepted my invitation,’ said Mr Evington, standing up. ‘I hope you and your mother will do the same.’

‘I’m sure we will,’ said
Alice
, her voice filled with excitement.

‘Then I will expect you as soon as I see you. I will return to the Manor and tell the housekeeper to make up rooms for three more guests. Oh, and you must bring Gibson,’ he said to Cicely. ‘He, too, will need somewhere to stay. In fact I am sure he would be very useful in the coming week, as well as very welcome - that is, if you have no objection to his helping out?’

‘No. None.’

He looked down the lane, to where a group of people were converging on the Lodge. ‘The local officials can take over now,’ he said.

Cicely slipped his jacket from her shoulders as he stood up. She handed it back to him, knowing she must not detain him. He took it, swinging it over his shoulder. As he did so, Cicely’s eyes were drawn to the sight of his muscles working beneath his shirt, and she was filled with a sudden desire to feel his arms around her once again. But such a thought was madness. No good would come of such ideas, and she must banish them from her mind,

‘Miss Haringay,’ he said politely. ‘Miss Babbage.’ Then making the ladies a slight bow he walked away.

Cicely’s eyes followed him down the drive - until she realized what they were doing, whereupon she forced her attention back to the pressing matter in hand. And it was pressing. She gave a deep sigh. She must now deal with the aftermath of the explosion.

An hour later, explanations had been made and workers organized to assess the damage with a view to carrying out the repairs. She had made no mention of the fact that Tom had stoked the fire too high when asked about the cause of the explosion, she had simply blamed it on the back boiler being old. Tom had been doing his best to help, and a quiet word in private would make sure he knew the risks involved in making the fire too hot so that he would not do it again.

Then came the task of cleaning up the mess the explosion had left in its wake. It seemed to take forever to sort things out, despite the number of willing helpers who lent a hand, but at last it was done. The repairs to the Lodge, however, would take longer. Cicely sighed. She had been hoping perhaps at a later date to employ a maid to help her in the house for one day a week, but now anything left over from her wages would have to go on setting the Lodge to rights.

There was no use worrying about it, however. She was fortunate that she had a roof over her head for the coming week: Alex had seen to that. In one way at least, she no longer dreaded it. She had now visited the Manor so many times since moving out of it that she could go back as a guest without being troubled by the situation, and knowing that Gibson was also welcome took a great weight off her mind. But in another way it filled her with apprehension. Alex had said she had nothing to fear from him. But living in the same house as him, sleeping under the same roof - who knew what complications it would bring?