Too Close to the Sun (29 page)

And thirty-five minutes later Grace sat on the train heading for Berron Wick and from there the short walk to Asterleigh. And with each mile covered, Grace felt greater relief; she was so glad to be out of the situation she had just left. She had felt patronized, humoured and humiliated, and never wished to see Miss Lewin again.

Back at Asterleigh House, she found that Billy had just returned from school, and had been given some tea and cake by Mrs Sandiston. Grace sat and talked with him for a few minutes about his lessons, then excused herself and went into her room.

There at her little table she sat with Stephen’s letter before her. Over the past days, and even earlier that same day she had pondered on how best to respond. There had
been times when she had even considered not answering the letter at all.

She drew towards her her writing pad and pen and ink, and then wrote:

Dear Stephen,

I thank you for your letter, which I was most surprised to receive – as you correctly guessed I would be. You asked if we might meet. I have no idea of the purpose for such a meeting, but for old times’ sake I am happy to tell you that I am agreeable. I would prefer it if we did not meet here where I am presently staying, however, and would like to suggest that on Thursday, the proposed day of your visit, we meet in Berron Wick itself. If you would care to meet me at the crossroads near the Lamb and Flag inn at, say, 4.30, we could perhaps take a walk if the weather is fine. If it is not, then we might have some tea in the Lamb – which is where I shall wait for you if the weather is wet
.

Yours,

Grace Harper

As she had written she had seen Miss Lewin’s eyes resting on Mr Fairman’s face. It was an image she could not get out of her mind. She thought also of the way Miss Lewin had addressed him as Kester. Most clearly of all, however, was the image in her mind of how Miss Lewin had laid her hand over his own on the white cloth. And he had not, Grace recalled, removed his hand from her touch.

These images were in her mind as she wrote out the envelope and sealed the letter inside.

Without delay she left the house to post the letter.

On Monday morning Sophie came back to Asterleigh House to resume her lessons. Standing at the library window on the first floor, Grace saw the carriage pull up before the front of the house, and watched as Mr Fairman lifted Sophie down. She waited then for the sound of the ring at the door, but when it came remained where she was. During the first days of the lessons she had gone down herself, but this time she waited while Jane went to let the child in. A minute or so later, standing well back, half-hidden behind the curtain, she saw the carriage, with Mr Fairman at the reins, driven away.

A tap at the library door and the door opened, and there was Jane with Sophie, Jane saying, ‘Miss Sophie for you, Miss Harper,’ and then Sophie coming almost skipping into the room.

As the door closed behind the maid, Sophie said animatedly as she took off her hat and cape, ‘Oh, Miss Harper, it seems so long since I was here last. It’s been a whole week.’ She gave a theatrical sigh. ‘I’m glad to be back at my lessons. I missed them.’

‘I missed them too,’ Grace said.

‘Did you? Truly?’

‘Truly I did.’ Grace smiled and gave a little nod of emphasis. ‘So we’ll get to work at once, shall we?’

Later as they came to the end of the English lesson, Sophie, observing that she had done well in the spelling, said happily, ‘There, miss, I got them all right. Did you
think I might forget everything while I was away from my lessons?’

‘No,’ Grace said, ‘I knew you wouldn’t forget.’

‘No, I wouldn’t forget,’ Sophie agreed, then added, ‘Anyway, I didn’t entirely go without lessons last week when I wasn’t coming here.’

‘You still had some lessons? Oh, how was that?’

‘I had lessons with Miss Lewin. I did spelling with her – but not such hard words as the words you choose. Her words were quite easy. And I had drawing too. Though I have to say she’s not as good at drawing as you. She can’t draw faces and people and ponies like you. She can only draw flowers and trees. But they’re quite good, even so.’

‘Well – that’s splendid.’ A pause and then, ‘Did Miss Lewin go back to London?’

‘Yes, she went back on Sunday. Papa and I took her to Corster to see her off on the train.’ She rolled her eyes high in her head, and said admiringly, ‘Oh, she had so many trunks and cases. And all just for a
week
.’

Grace did not know what to say to this. ‘Do you think she enjoyed her stay with you?’ she asked.

‘Oh, she didn’t stay with us, miss. She stayed at the hotel.’

‘Yes, of course, I realize that.’

‘Yes, she stayed at the hotel. But she came to see us every day.’

Grace asked, ‘And did you – enjoy it? Miss Lewin coming to visit you?’

‘Oh, yes. I got to spend a lot more time with Papa. And we went out on most days when the weather was fine in the hired carriage.’

‘Well, that’s nice. Where did you go?’

‘Oh, well – we went to see our new house. But I think I told you about that, didn’t I? When we were in the teashop.’

‘Yes, as I recall, you did tell me. And did Miss Lewin like it, the house? I’m sure she must have done.’

‘Oh, yes, she liked it very much. She said anyone would be happy to live there, especially when it was improved. That’s what’s happening to it now – it’s being improved. The painters are in, painting the walls and the doors and windows and everything.’

‘How exciting.’

‘Yes, and it will be finished soon and we shall move in, and have all our own furniture again. That will be nice.’

‘Indeed, that will be very nice. What else did you do when Miss Lewin was visiting you?’

‘Oh, well, we went on a picnic – though the weather was rather too cold. And on another day we went to Redbury. Have you ever been to Redbury, miss?’

‘Yes. It’s a very nice city.’

‘Oh, it is. We got the train. Oh, that was so exciting, miss. I love going on the train. Do you like going on the train?’

‘Yes, I quite like it.’

‘I love it. We went to the theatre while we were there, and saw a play. Which Papa and Miss Lewin called an operetta. Which means they sing a lot of songs. I don’t remember what it was called, the play, but it was very nice. There was a lot of singing. Oh, lovely songs – and a lot of funny people all dressed up. It was supposed to be all happening in Japan. There was a man in it called the Lord High Executioner, and a very pretty lady called Yum Yum. Lots of the ladies had lovely dresses and they all had fans. I slept in a little cot in Papa’s room at the hotel, and Miss Lewin stayed in another room.’ She sighed with pleasure at the memory. ‘Miss Lewin wore the loveliest gown to the theatre. Oh, she looked so pretty. She knows a lot about the theatre, Miss Lewin does. I think she goes a lot when she’s in London. She says theatres are very nice in the provinces but they’re not the same as in London. She said that one
theatre in London is all lit with electric light. Did you know that, miss?’

‘I think I read about it,’ Grace said.

‘And she says the next time she comes here to Corster we can go to Redbury and go to the theatre again.’

Grace heard herself say, in a strange, bright voice, ‘So she’s coming back some day, is she?’

‘Oh, yes. She says she wants to come back very soon, as soon as we’ve moved in. She says she’ll help Papa choose some nice things for the house.’

‘Well,’ Grace said, ‘that sounds very nice. You must tell me more about it all at some time. But for now,’ she picked up a book from the table before her and opened it, ‘shall we begin our geography?’

In the afternoon when there came the ring at the bell, signifying that Mr Fairman had arrived to take his daughter home, Sophie put on her hat and coat and, wishing Grace a goodbye, hurried down the stairs. Grace, standing just within the room, with the library door open, could hear Mr Fairman greeting his daughter and asking if she was ready to leave. Moments later there came the sound of the front door closing and Grace moved to the window and watched as the carriage drove around the still fountain. Only when the vehicle had moved out of sight did she turn from the window.

The following day Sophie was back, and once more Grace remained in the library while the child was admitted to the house, and again later when she made her departure. As on the day previously, Grace had not been able to bring herself to meet Mr Fairman. And she taxed herself with it. How could she, she asked herself, hide like a coward, afraid to see him face to face, afraid even to be seen by him?

On Wednesday Sophie came by hired cab and was
picked up by the same driver when the day’s lessons were over. Seeing the elderly man coming up to the front door, Grace felt a sense of relief that it was not Mr Fairman. At the same time she knew a slight feeling of disappointment.

On the following day, Thursday, Mr Fairman was back behind the reins. And although with one part of her being she had hoped to see him there, still she did not go down to greet him, either when he brought Sophie to the house or when he came to take her away. And once again from the library window she watched their departure from the grounds.

Still standing there by the window some minutes after the carriage had left the drive, she felt in turmoil. It was as if her mind were without direction. And as for her feelings – they were like a foreign language that she could not read. In the end she did her best not to allow herself to dwell upon those unformed, unidentified emotions; it did no good; they only seemed to take her deeper into confusion.

She turned, moved from the window. In less than an hour and a half Stephen would be waiting to meet her at the inn.

As any fool could have told her, she said to herself as she got ready for the meeting: Stephen was the answer to the question. To all the questions.

He was not writing to her out of the blue merely to resume a correspondence, she told herself. He wanted more than that. He wanted more, too, than a mere companion for walks in the country, more than an opponent for games of chess. But being circumspect as he was, and not wishing to be crude in his approaches, he had given hardly anything away in his letter.

She took a final look in the glass, adjusted the beaver-trimmed collar of her cape, touched at her hat one last time, and turned away. At the door of Billy’s room she knocked.
There was no answer, but going downstairs she found him in the kitchen with the cook. The kitchen maid had the afternoon off, and Billy was helping the cook with the vegetables. Taking the boy to the side, she told him that she was going out for an hour or so. Where was she going? he asked, to which she replied that she was to meet an old friend.

‘Who?’

Not answering his question, she said, ‘I’ll be back later.’

‘What time?’

‘Probably around six o’clock. I can’t be too late – I’m to have coffee with Mrs Spencer.’

The day, though sunny, was without any great warmth and there was a chill breeze coming from the west. She was glad of her cape and scarf. As she neared the arch leading to the inn yard Stephen came out of the inn’s doorway, his hat in his hand, and came to a stop a few yards before her.

‘Hello, Grace.’

‘Hello, Stephen.’

‘I saw you from the window where I was sitting,’ he said. ‘I saw you coming along the road.’ He looked very handsome in his chesterfield coat, and with his tanned complexion – evidence of his time in the sun. He gestured back to the door of the inn. ‘Would you like to go inside for a drink – some tea or coffee, or whatever you’d like?’

She looked up at the sky. ‘Could we walk a little?’ she said. ‘It’s not that warm, but it looks as if it’ll stay dry for the time being.’

‘Of course.’

They set out together in silence, walking a yard apart, as if careful of any closer proximity. They made their way along the main street of the village, past the blacksmith’s, the little post office, and on to the end of the road where the garden of the last cottage gave way to meadowland, and
the road ended in a stile, on the other side of which the way continued with merely a footpath.

After crossing the stile they continued on. Their conversation was composed only of small talk. They spoke of the weather, and then he asked how she had been, and asked also after the welfare of Billy. Grace told him what news there was.

At the far end of the meadow was another stile, beyond which on one side of the path a little woodland began. The ground ahead looked slightly damp, and Grace, careful of her boots, did not wish to go on further. On reaching the stile she came to a halt and turned.

‘Shall we stop here?’ she said. ‘I don’t want to walk too far.’

A wild flowering cherry grew close beside the stile, its lush pink blossoms just breaking out of bud. Stephen reached out and took one of the flowered branches in his hand and drew it towards him. Holding the branch close to his nose he drew in the scent and gave a little sigh of pleasure.

‘It’s so beautiful,’ Grace said.

‘Oh, indeed it is.’ He let the branch spring back to its natural position, then, looking directly at Grace, said awkwardly, ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me, Grace.’

She gave a little shrug and a smile, dismissing his thanks. ‘Please …’

‘I so wanted to talk to you. I need to talk to you, Grace. I was afraid you might refuse to see me.’

‘I wouldn’t do that.’

‘No? Perhaps you might think it’s what I deserve.’

She smiled a little more warmly here. ‘I don’t know what you deserve, Stephen. As far as I know you’re a good man. I’m sure you deserve only what is good and right.’

‘I
am
a good man, Grace,’ he said earnestly. ‘Although like any man I make mistakes.’ He gave an ironic shake of the head. ‘Oh, I make mistakes all right.’

Grace said nothing. All around them were the sights and sounds of nature: sparrows cheeped, blue tits and blackbirds were busily gathering nest-building material, a butterfly danced by, and the leaves of the yew tree beside the flowering cherry moved gently in the breeze. Stephen remained silent for a moment or two, then went on, ‘You probably heard about me and Miss Shilford, did you?’