Too Close to the Sun (49 page)

Now, picking up her cup, she drank from it. The tea was cold. As she set the cup back in its saucer she heard the sound of a carriage, and looking from the window again, saw the lights of carriage lanterns as the trap, driven by Rhind, came up the drive.

On a much earlier occasion when Edward was returning home she had seen Rhind as he was about to set out to meet his master at the station. ‘But what if he’s not on that train?’ Grace had said to Rhind. ‘Then I shall simply wait for the next train, ma’am,’ Rhind had said.

Now she moved from the window and sat beside the fire, and minutes later heard the front door closing and then Edward’s steps crossing the hall. Seconds later he was entering the room, closing the door behind him and coming towards her.

‘You waited up for me,’ he said after he had embraced her and kissed her.

‘Of course.’ Their words were a charade, she said to herself; they both knew that she was never again likely to do otherwise.

With a groan and a sigh of relief he threw himself down
onto the sofa. ‘Please, Gracie,’ he said, and lifted his right foot.

Grace eased off his boots. ‘Your supper’s in the pantry,’ she said as she handed him his carpet slippers. ‘Shall I get it for you?’

‘Thank you.’

‘Will you eat in here?’

‘Yes, I will.’

Grace set a place for him on a small table by the piano, and poured him a glass of wine. As he preferred, she sat not too far from him as he ate.

‘I was tempted to eat something on the train,’ he said, ‘but it looked such disgusting muck I managed to resist it.’ When he had finished the meat he poured himself another glass of wine. ‘That’s better,’ he said, smiling at Grace. ‘I’m a nicer person when I’ve eaten.’

‘How was it?’ Grace asked, when he began to look a little more relaxed. ‘How was the business?’

He groaned. ‘Oh, God, it gets so trying. It seems that whenever I go back there there’s trouble of one kind or another. I really must think about getting rid of it. Sometimes I think it’s not worth all the effort, the constant travelling back and forth. If I had somebody there I could trust that would be a different matter, but I haven’t, and it’s not likely that I shall have.’

Grace removed the tray and placed it on the sideboard. ‘Would you like more wine?’

‘Just a drop more.’

When she had poured his wine she got the post that had come for him in his absence. ‘Will you look at it now?’

He nodded, and Grace took a letter opener and slit the envelopes one by one and placed them before him in a neat little pile. Turning up the lamp he began to go through them, putting some aside immediately and looking at others with interest.

‘Ah,’ he said, tapping a letter he held, ‘this is interesting. I’ve found a sculptor to mend the figure. It will be good to get that done. He’s based in Redbury. He’s the only one who answered my advertisement. Still, it’ll only need one if the man is the right one.’

Had Grace been more foolish than she was she might have said: why go spending money on a not very good piece of sculpture when you need it for more pressing matters? But she knew that such words would anger him, besides which, having just returned from one of his trips abroad his temper was never the best in any case.

He made love to her that night, taking her with a passion born not only of his feelings for her, but also his hunger after being several days away. And Grace did her best to respond, and tried to say the appropriate words and make the appropriate sounds and moves. And although she was not happy with the situation, he seemed to be. If it was a charade on her part, then it seemed that she was the only one who was aware of it.

When it was over, he lay with his arm across her body and said, ‘I shall arrange to go into Redbury and see that artist on Friday. You might care to go in with me, would you? You must have some shopping to do.’

It was her instinct to decline the invitation; there was no particular reason she wished to go into the city. But refusal of his offer would not have been well received, she knew.

‘I don’t suppose you’ve been out much while I’ve been gone, have you?’ he said.

‘I haven’t been anywhere.’

‘Then come in with me. I can leave you there to do any shopping you need and I’ll meet the artist and then go on to Swindon. I have an appointment there – and the next morning as well. So I shan’t be back tomorrow night. I’ll stay over. Save all the travelling.’

On Friday the two set out for Berron Wick station with Johnson holding the reins. They started early: Edward, once up and on the move, was never one to tarry, and as soon as breakfast – and hardly a leisurely one at that – was over, he was ready and eager to be on his way. Rhind, he said, would have driven them to the station, but he was already out of the house on various errands.

Arriving in Redbury, Edward walked with Grace to the main street, and then left her there to pursue his business with the sculptor. Grace, on her own, wandered about the shops buying various items. She stopped to have some coffee at one point and then, having made one or two further calls, set off back to the railway station. With luck, she thought, she might make the 12.50.

She arrived on the platform just seconds after the train had pulled in, and was met by a throng of people leaving the train to go into the town. She hurried towards the carriages, and then came to a sudden stop as a man swung out in front of her.

‘Kester …’

‘Grace …’ He was facing her, having just got off the train. He wore his grey ulster and carried a small case.

Grace stayed there looking at him, unmoving. She could not simply step around him and get onto the train. And he, seeing that this was nevertheless her intention, put out a hand, palm out, and said: ‘Don’t. Oh, Grace, don’t go.’

She remained where she was, while people hurried past carrying their baskets and bags and umbrellas. And along with all the bustle came the sound of the carriage doors slamming, and then, moments later, the guard’s whistle. At this Grace took a step forward.

‘I should –’ she began, but got no further.

And then from beyond Kester’s tall form came the sound of the engine starting to get up steam. The decision was
made, it was too late for any other course now, the train was leaving the station.

‘Thank you.’ Kester inclined his head slightly as he murmured the words. And then, ‘Oh, Grace, I’ve been so hoping to see you. I didn’t dare write.’

She had said hardly more than three words, and realized that she was almost breathless. She gave a foolish sounding little laugh, and said, ‘That wasn’t clever, I’m afraid. There isn’t another train for half an hour.’ They were almost alone on the platform now, and the train was swiftly receding in the distance. ‘Did you just get off the train?’ Grace said.

‘Yes. I’ve been working in Marshton. So, what brings you to Redbury?’

‘Oh, nothing of importance, just a little shopping for this and that.’

He nodded. ‘I have some brief business here in the town and –’

‘Then I mustn’t keep you,’ Grace broke in.

‘Don’t say that. It’s such a pleasure to see you again. I can hardly believe it.’ A little silence fell between them, obvious and awkward, then Grace said:

‘Are you still living here in Redbury?’

‘No, we’re in Corster. Crescent Gardens, do you know it? A decent enough little villa, I suppose. The White House it’s called, though it’s not white by any means. Still, it’ll do until the lease on Birchwood becomes free again.’ He paused a long moment, then added, ‘Will you walk with me a little? I have to visit a house not too far away.’

She hesitated, and he, seeing her hesitation, gently touched her arm. ‘Please – walk with me.’

As he took a step beside her she found herself turning and falling in step with him. And so they left the station platform and the station and walked together, a little apart, along the street.

‘Is it far?’ Grace asked as they crossed over at the corner.

‘No, just five or six minutes.’

She did not want to leave his side, but at the same time she felt uncomfortable walking beside him. ‘If you have business,’ she said, ‘I shall be in the way.’

‘No, you won’t, believe me. Trust me.’

Having reached the other side of the street, he came to a stop, Grace halting with him. ‘It’s just along here,’ he said. ‘Have you got to get your train so soon?’

‘Well …’

He read the uncertainty in her voice. ‘No, you haven’t, am I right?’

‘Well, I mustn’t be too late.’

‘Of course not.’

‘Where is your husband?’

‘He has several errands to run. Some here in Redbury and then others in Swindon.’

A moment’s pause, then: ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘let me do what work I have to do here, and then let’s have a drink somewhere and talk. Please don’t say no. I have to know about you. How you’ve been. Sophie still asks after you.’

‘How is she?’

‘Oh, she’s fine. She’s absolutely fine.’ He turned, and took her arm, and for a few moments she allowed her arm to be held. ‘Come …’

‘What do you have to do here?’ she asked.

‘There’s a house for which I’m to design some alterations. I’m just here today to take some measurements. Then I can get on with the final drawings.’

They came to a stop outside a tall Georgian house. ‘Is this it?’ Grace said.

‘Yes.’ He took keys from his pocket.

‘You want me to wait here for you?’

‘No, come in with me. There’s no one there. The place is empty, and it’ll only take a minute.’

She hesitated, but on his urging moved behind him as he
pushed open the gate and started up the short path to the front door.

‘Are you sure this is all right?’ Grace said. Her heart was hammering now, and she felt like a child at risk of being caught out in some major wrongdoing.

‘Perfectly all right.’ He turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. ‘The owners are away. No one’ll come in.’ He walked ahead of her, opened the door on the left and stepped into a spacious drawing room. After a moment’s hesitation, Grace followed. The room had very little furniture in it. The carpet, though clean, was old and worn. ‘The owners have just bought the house,’ he said. ‘All this –’ he waved a hand, taking in the spare furnishings, ‘is to be thrown out.’ He gestured to an old sofa along one wall. ‘Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get this bit of work done and we can leave again. Take your coat off if you like. I shan’t be more than fifteen minutes.’

‘Well – yes, I will for a minute. Are you quite sure no one will come in?’

‘Positive. Please, trust me. They’re in France.’ He took off his coat and draped it over the arm of the sofa. ‘They’ll be away for ages yet. Months, so I understand.’

From his bag he took out a notebook and pencil and a tape measure. ‘Now I’ll leave you here while I get busy,’ he said. ‘It won’t take me long to take these few measurements.’

He went from the room and Grace turned, looking about her. There was a cracked, speckled mirror on the wall opposite, and she saw herself reflected in it, and wondered at the circumstance of her being there. She looked strange, odd in this strange setting, standing there, in a stranger’s house, killing time. She wandered around the room. There was little to see. The old paper on the walls was stained and the marks where pictures had hung were clearly evident. There was a chair next to a rather
distressed-looking table. At one time handsome, now the table’s surface was bruised and scarred. On its once flawless, polished surface were rings left by hot or wet vessels, and someone had carved initials and scratched an obscene little drawing. In the centre of the table stood a cracked pot with a dead plant in it. Beside the wide fireplace there was a bureau with a broken top. She moved on, with every step seeming to be more conscious of her presence there. She could not seem to slow the rapid, heavy beating of her heart.

It seemed to her that she waited in the room a long time, but then at last there came the sound of footsteps in the hall and Kester was coming into the room, rewinding his tape measure.

‘All finished,’ he said, turning to the sofa near where Grace had been standing, and then swiftly turning about, with a touch of panic in the move at finding her not there. Seeing her standing by the window his face relaxed into a smile. ‘There you are. I thought you were going to take off your coat.’

‘I shall have to go,’ she said. ‘I have to get back.’

He set down his measure, notepad and pencil on the table, then moved towards her, coming to a stop a yard away. ‘Ah, Grace, I can’t believe it, that you’re here – that I’m with you.’

She did not move, did not speak.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Come and sit down a moment.’ He reached out and took her hand in his and turned, drawing her with him. She moved half-reluctantly, her mouth opening to protest, but in the end saying nothing. There was a deep fear in her; it was partly a fear of being disturbed by the owners, and partly a fear of the immediate freedom they faced.

He led her to the sofa, and there stopped. ‘Oh, Grace,’ he said, ‘I can’t tell you how I –’ and then broke off to add,
‘Please – oh, please take off your coat and hat. You look as if you’re about to take flight.’

‘But I can’t stay. I have to go.’

‘Not yet. Stay a while to talk. Just for a few minutes. Come on, take off your coat, take off your hat.’

She did so, setting them on the chair beside the table.

‘That’s better. Now come and sit down a minute.’

She sat on the sofa and he sat down beside her.

A momentary pause, then he said, ‘The people who own this house, the Clarksons, want me to design a conservatory to go at the back. It’s not a huge job, but it’s one that I’ll enjoy, I think. They want other things done too, nothing really major. There’s talk of a spiral staircase and –’ He broke off. ‘Listen to me rambling on – as if I’m the least interested in such work right now. As if you’re interested either.’ He reached out and took her left hand and began to peel off her glove. When he had done, she took off the other one. He took it from her and laid both gloves down on the seat at his side. ‘Oh, what a thrill it is to see you,’ he breathed.

‘Kester …’