The Youngest Bridesmaid (22 page)

BOOK: The Youngest Bridesmaid
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I only meant make an effort to be more natural—more of a hostess,

he replied mildly.

There

s only the one accepted rule for polite hospitality, surely?


Do you think I

m being rude, then?

she asked, sounding anxious and bewildered again, and he made a small gesture of impatience.


Good grief! How literal can you get?

he

exclaimed.

Of course you

re not rude—it

s only—oh, well, if you don

t get my meaning, I can

t explain
.
Forget it.

She got his meaning all right, she thought, but doubted whether he himself was as clear. He was being made to feel ill at ease by the situation, and whatever he had felt for Melissa during their engagement could surely not, Lou thought, be forgotten so soon.

S
he tried, after that, to be more social and attentive when the three of them were together, but it was not easy to forget that she had once been the Chailey

s poor relation, expected to be grateful for the crumbs, and Melissa although she was too clever to openly disregard her cousin

s new status, had subtle ways of reminding her that make
-
believe was no foundation for security.


Cinderella!

she would say with a giggle.

Is that Piers

charming nickname for you?

Lou had ceased to find it charming and she knew Meliss
a
knew it, too.

But, darling, what could be more romantic? The press fairly went to town on the story—or don

t you read the gossip columns?


We don

t get papers here—at least—


Of course you do! They come over by laun
ch
with the mail; Tibby

s kept the lot. Really, Lou, you have no sense of occasion—or does Piers keep the sordid details from his Cinderella bride?


What was sordid about it?

Lou asked with innocent surprise, and flushed as she realized how ingenuous she must sound.


That was a figure of speech, you clot!

her cousin retorted, starting her familiar aimless perambulations round the room.

You really will have to take a pull on yourself, sweetie, if you

re not to bore Piers to death. As a novelty for a jaded appetite he may find you refreshing, but he

s got to spend the rest of his life with you—or has he?


And what do you mean by that?


Well, these days marriage isn

t the ghastly till-death-do-us-part affair it used to be. Divorce has become respectable—and
very
fashionable.

Lou controlled herself with an effort. She knew
that she laid herself open to ridicule by her ignorance of the easy standards of the rich which made her say stupid things, but at least she could deny her cousin the satisfaction of getting a rise every time, so she held her tongue and merely blinked back. All the same, it became only too clear to her that Piers, who had seen so much of the world, and been so
shamelessly run after, might very soon suffer the boredom of the rich and spoilt.


Cheer up!

said Melissa who, having planted the seed, could afford to be good-natured.

You don

t need to take my wa
rn
ings too literally. Piers has probably reached the age when glamour begins to pall and the prospect of a wholesome dutiful little wife is rather restful after so much, racketing around, only do make
some
effort, darling. Doll yourself up in the evenings, even if you are stuck on a desert island. Even if Piers does like to lounge about in flannels and old sweaters, he

s always liked his women soignee.


I always do change into another frock,

Lou said, but did not add that another woman

s elegant trousseau,
very little of which suited her, scarcely made for self-conceit.

Two days went by with the storm still raging, and it became difficult to fill the long hours between meals. Piers was out of doors a great deal, helping the islanders with their livestock, and the makeshift repairs to their homes, but the two cousins had to make do with each other

s company and the small transistor set Melissa had brought with her. Lou missed her daily rambles on the island and her shy exchanges
w
ith the fishermen and their wives. She would have welcomed an opportunity of helping Tibby about the house had she been wanted, but the old servant did not mellow with their enforced captivity and refused all Lou

s tentative offers. It was all the more galling, therefore, to find Melissa perched on the kitchen table at odd moments, drinking tea and
smoking her Turkish cigarettes, while Tibby ironed or baked, apparently unresentful of interruption.

As often as not Sam would be there, too, eyeing Melissa with undisguised admiration, while she, well aware of his good looks and her own effect on the opposite sex, encouraged him idly under Tib
b
y

s indulgent eye. On these occasions they would all stop talking and look at Lou with polite enquiry as if it was she who was the intruder and not her cousin,
and she would go away thinking humbly of Melissa

s ease with strangers.

She had tried when she first came to the island to make friends with Sam, but he had met her advances with shyness, or perhaps it was just suspicion encouraged by Tibby

s attitude, but Melissa had clearly fared better. It was disheartening to be faced so bluntly with one

s own shortcomings, and the storm

s persistence did not make for ease or clarity of thought. Nowhere was there escape from the fury of the elements; slamming doors and rattling windows kept up an incessant clatter; fires smoked and gusts of wind blew down the passages, lifting the rush matting with eerie, sucking sounds, and by the third day Melissa

s careful facade began to crack. It was all very well to appear cool and entertaining for short intervals when Pier
s
was about, or to amuse herself with the handsome young lout in Tibby

s kitchen, but another woman

s company bored her unutterably and the perpetual noise
o
f the storm got on her nerves to the point of hysteria. It was even beginning to get on Lou

s nerves, or perhaps it was just her cousin

s sudden spurts of ill temper that left her feeling bruised and shaken; that and the ease with which Melissa turned on the charm for Piers.

Lou foun
d
herself becoming gauche and awkward, knowing that that was how Melissa wished her to appear, and sometimes she caught Piers looking at her with impatience, even with irritability. She had no weapons with which to match Melissa at her own game, for she had never learnt the art of verbal hide-and-seek. Piers, she reflected, for all his professed experience of women probably did not realize how
subtly she was being stripped of confidence, or how often his eyes rested on Melissa with speculation and, it could be, regret.

She was aware that now she retorted sharply and often with childish petulance when he teased her, so that he began treating her with an exaggerated politeness in Melissa

s presence which was more hurtful than his casual banter, also she was afraid.

This inopportune visit was no whim, she had begun to realize, neither was the blame laid on Cousin Blanche probably true. Melissa had unintentionally burnt her boats by running away for a kick, as she had expressed it, but now she wanted Piers back, and even if she could not have him for herself, she could very well wreck Lou

s marriage.

On the third evening after she had slipped away early to bed; apparently unnoticed by the other two, Lou lay awake, listening to the storm and waiting with increasing trepidation for Piers to come up. She must, she thought, have the courage to get certain things clear betwe
e
n them, but when, at a very late hour, he answered her call and stood in the doorway between their rooms, she, could not remember what they were. He made no move to come into the room and had the air of a polite stranger willing to perform a trivial service but anxious not to be detained.


What did you want?

he asked.

She could think of nothing but the proverbial childish excuse.


A glass of water, please.


It

s by your bed.


Oh—oh, yes, of course. Piers—


Well?

She struggled up against her pillows, aware that she dealt clumsily with slipping bedclothes, that one of Melissa

s elaborate nightgowns appeared on her ridiculou
s r
ather than inviting, and such questions as she would have liked to ask could only sound impertinent.


Well?

he said again,

and this time she forced herself to remember that she was his wife.


I want to know how long this is going to last,

she said, and his eyebrows shot up with unamused tolerance.


My dear child, I don

t control the weather,

he replied, and she said with brave doggedness:


I didn

t mean the weather.

At once she was conscious that he stiffened, that during those hours when she had so foolishly left him
alone with Melissa he had suffered a sea-change. He did not, it became clear, even intend to afford her the solace of the usual tucking-up routine and blessings for the night.


Piers—

she said, drawing up her knees under the bedclothes and clasping her arms tightly around them
.

I—I don

t think you quite understand my position. It—it isn

t very nice to be a cypher in one

s own home.


You don

t,

he retorted quite pleasantly,

make much effort to assert yourself, do you—except to stress a shrinking for your husband

s possible advances?


Is that what Melissa told you?

“Melissa gives a good deal away unintenti
onal
ly. She doesn’t understand maidenly modesty. She has a very healthy attitude towards sex.

Lou’s indecisiveness vanished in a sudden, surge of anger.

“Very obviously,” she snapped. “You or this other man—healthy, possibly, but hardly discriminating—or doesn’t that matter?”

For a moment he looked taken aback, and even a little scandalized, as if a child had unwittingly thrown a dirty word at him.


What are you trying to imply?

he asked coldly, and she put her head down on her knees, answering from the muffled folds of the eiderdown with the forlorn defiance of a child that
kn
ows it is beaten by adult logic but re
f
uses to give in.


Only what you yourself are implying—that you and Melissa realize your mistake—that I

m just the stumbling block. You once told me that if things didn

t work out you just forgot them or threw them away. You—you want your freedom, I suppose.

The silence that followed was so long that she thought he must have gone away. She was crying now, dismayed by her own lack of reticence and the evil genius which had made her blurt out such unconsidered opinions when she should have taken a leaf out of her cousin

s book and played it cool.


Does that mean you want yours?

he asked then, and his voice seemed to come from a long way of
f
. When she made no reply he appeared to hesitate, then she heard him move and when he next spoke he was standing by the bed looking down at her.


Poor Cinderella
...

he said with gentle regret,

I

ve given you a raw deal, haven

t I? Melissa

s made me see that very clearly
...
she says, quite rightly, that you aren

t the sort of girl to play games with.

She looked up then. The wind which, despite the well-fitting windows, had found out the cracks, made the lamp flare in a sudden gust, causing shadows to flicker across his face, giving him a strange expression.


Was
it only a game?

she asked, aware that too late a ghost of the old tenderness was back, that had she pleaded with him, or simply confessed her own doubts and misgivings, he might have at least of
f
ered her comfort.


No,

he answered.

A thumbing of the nose, perhaps, even a rather ill-considered gesture of defiance, but never a game. Don

t cry, Cinderella
...
I

ll put things right for you. Just pretend in your make
-
believe for a little while longer. When you come back to reality again this will all seem like the dream it is.


And isn

t the island
your
make
-
believe?

she asked, tightening her hands round her knees.

Don

t you, when you come to Rune, escape from reality and enjoy a fairy tale
of your own?

H
e stood there, looking down at her, the expression on his lean dark face suddenly unsure.


Clever of you,

h
e murmured softly.

Yes, perhaps we share the same need, after all, my dear
...
Go to sleep, now.

She automatically lifted her face, but he did not kiss her. The hour was so late and the ceaseless noise of the storm so hypnotic that she could no longer think clearly if, indeed, she ever had.


Goo
d
night,

she replie
d
, and lay down obediently, making no further ef
f
ort to detain him. He
turned down the lamp, pinching out the wick with practised fingers, and went back to his own room.

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