The Carousel (19 page)

I knew that there was nothing I wanted more. And from the way Daniel was looking at me, I had a pretty good idea that he felt the same way.

I smiled, too. "No," I told him. "We don't want to commit ourselves."

When Mr. Thomas's taxi returned bearing Phoebe and Charlotte and all their shopping, we were still in the kitchen, though no longer sitting at either end of the table. We heard the ancient vehicle come grinding down the road and turn in at the gate, and we went out together to greet them.

Mr. Thomas was flummoxed by Daniel's car, which, unexpectedly parked in front of the house, had left him no room to turn. Phoebe was already out of the taxi, dramatic in her best brown tweed cape, and trying to give him directions.

"Left hand down, Mr. Thomas. No, I don't mean left, I mean right . . ."

"Phoebe," said Daniel.

She turned and saw him.

"Daniel!"

Mr. Thomas and his problems were forgotten. Disgusted, he switched off his engine and sat there, brooding, trapped, the radiator of his car nose-to-nose with Daniel's, the back wheels hard against the red brick kerbstone that protected Phoebe's border.

Daniel moved to meet her halfway. They embraced enormously, and her hat was knocked sideways.

"You wicked villain." She thumped his shoulder lovingly with her good fist. "Where have you been?"

But she did not give him time to tell her, because just then, over his shoulder, she caught sight of me standing there in Lily's apron and with a smile on my face that I could do nothing about. She let go of Daniel and came to me, and although she had no idea of what had happened, what was happening, what was going to happen, I saw my own happiness reflected in her face, and we held each other very tightly and laughed together, because Daniel had come back, and everything was suddenly so completely all right.

And Charlotte. At the same instant we remembered Charlotte. We looked and saw her cautiously alighting from the back of the old car, her arms filled with a perilous pile of wrapped boxes and packages. I knew that she had watched us all, was holding back, probably telling herself that she, Charlotte, had no place in all these loving reunions. Carefully, with her foot, she closed the door of the taxi. When she turned, her chin clamped over the topmost parcel, she found herself confronted by Daniel. Slowly her face tilted up to stare into his, her eyes unblinking behind the owlish spectacles. For a moment there was silence as they looked at each other. And then Daniel smiled and said, "Hello, my love. I'm back again."

He held wide his arms. It was all she needed.

"Oh, Daniel . . ."

The parcels began to slip. She let them go and flung herself at him, and he caught her and swung her up in his arms, round and round, and the packages lay unheeded where they had tumbled, higgledy-piggledy onto the gravel.