Too Close to the Sun (8 page)

Grace thanked the man and took the envelope from him. It was addressed to her in Stephen’s familiar hand. Turning away, she came to a stop, quickly tore open the envelope and took out the letter. She read it through, then lifted her
head to see her father standing in the workshop doorway just a few feet away. He was eyeing her expression keenly.

‘Seeing the Cantrells’ man,’ he said, ‘and the smile of excitement on your face, I can only assume the letter’s from Stephen.’

She looked at him and nodded, then went back to the letter. ‘He says he arrived back yesterday morning.’ She sounded a little breathless. ‘He wants to come round this evening at six o’clock – if it’s convenient.’

‘And is it?’

‘Oh, Pappy …’ She turned again, took a few steps towards the groom who stood beside the horse, now hitched up, and said, ‘I’ll just keep you a minute,’ and then went quickly into the house.

Up in her bedroom she got pen and paper, and, sitting at her small writing desk, quickly wrote a reply to Stephen’s letter, and sealed it in an envelope. Back down the stairs again and she was out in the yard and moving to the young groom. She thanked him again for delivering the letter and handed him her letter in reply. She watched then as he unhitched the horse, swung up into the saddle, and clattered away across the cobbles towards the lane.

She remained standing there for some seconds after he had turned out of her sight. Stephen was back in Green Shipton, back at his family home in the village, where he usually stayed during his periods of leave from the merchant ship on which he was Second Officer.

With a little sigh of pleasure she turned and moved towards the workshop.

Her father did not look around as she entered, but continued at his work, sanding a piece of timber. ‘So,’ he said, still without looking up, ‘have you sent the young man an answer?’

‘Yes. He’ll be round at six.’

Somehow Grace got through the time remaining, spending most of it helping Mrs Tanner with the chores about the house. Then, when Mrs Tanner left at five, Grace went upstairs and began to prepare for her visitor. When she was ready she sat waiting.

It was 5.50 when she heard the sound of hoofs on the cobbles. Yet she would not look from the window, but remained there, on the chair. She heard the hoofs stop, and after some seconds the sound of voices, Stephen’s voice and that of Billy. Two minutes later came the sound of hurrying feet on the stairs, and then a knocking on the door. She opened the door to see her brother standing there, a little breathless, his face flushed from exposure to the afternoon sun. ‘Your Mr Stephen’s here,’ he said, thrilled to be the bearer of good tidings. ‘You didn’t know, did you? He’s here, now, downstairs, in the parlour.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Are you coming down?’

‘Of course I’m coming down.’ It would not do to seem too eager. ‘Just give me a minute.’

He turned and she called his name and he came back across the landing.

‘What is it?’ he said.

‘Billy, when I come down – you make yourself scarce, all right?’

‘Why?’

‘Billy.’

He sighed. ‘All right.’

‘Thank you.’

After Billy had withdrawn and his footfalls had faded on the stairs, Grace remained there, looking at her reflection in the glass. Stephen was back, and here she was planning to leave the village for a fortnight. How could she? How could she be away when he was here? Hands fluttering slightly, she touched at her hair, adjusting the pins, then twitched at
the sleeves of her blouse and skirt. And, dear Lord, she thought, I look so dowdy. But there was nothing to be done about it now. She leaned forward a little, closer to the glass, and pinched a little more colour into her cheeks. Then she rose, smoothed down her skirt and left the room.

Downstairs in the hall she moved towards the parlour, pushed open the door and went in.

He was standing by the fireplace, tall, slim, and dressed in a dark grey, single-breasted suit. He had turned at the sound of her approaching step, and now greeted her with a little smile. She came to a halt just inside the doorway and smiled at him in return.

‘Hello, Grace,’ he said.

‘Hello, Stephen …’ A brief pause. ‘Welcome back.’

‘Thank you.’ As he spoke he lifted a hand to brush his fingers through his thick fair hair. Grace saw a touch of nervousness in the gesture, and for a moment wondered at it.

‘Please, Stephen,’ she said, gesturing towards an easy chair on the other side of the fireplace, ‘do sit down.’

He muttered thanks and sat. She followed, sitting in the chair facing him. It had been almost four months since they had last met. Their meeting had taken place not long before her mother’s death. So much of that time now was hazy in her memory, but she could remember his being there, his presence, their walking in the lane, his concern at her mother’s illness.

Now as she exchanged glances with him she thought how well he looked with his tanned skin and his hair bleached a paler shade by the sun. ‘You’re looking well, Stephen,’ she said.

‘Thank you, Grace.’ He looked down at his hat resting on his knee, then said, ‘Oh, I was so sorry to learn about your mamma, Grace. That was so – so awful for you. For all of you.’

She nodded. ‘Thank you. It was indeed. It was a dreadful thing. But I so appreciated your letter, Stephen. Your letter to Father, too. They meant a lot to both of us.’

He shrugged. ‘It was nothing. How are you now? Are things a little easier?’

The sympathy in his voice was dangerous. One had to be so careful. Sympathy – it could make a break in the strongest dam, fracture the strongest resolve. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘things do get easier. But – well, I suppose we just take it a day at a time.’

‘Yes. And how are the rest of your family – your father and your brother?’

‘They’re well.’ A little shrug. ‘We keep busy.’

‘Of course. When young Billy let me in just now I thought, how he has grown.’

‘Oh, yes, he grows so fast. You can’t keep up.’

His glance left her own, drifted away, then lowered again, settling on his hat once more.

‘You almost missed me,’ Grace said after a moment. ‘Tomorrow morning I’m supposed to be leaving for Remmer Ridge to stay with my aunt. I’m to stay with her for a fortnight.’

‘Then it’s as well I called today,’ he said.

She smiled. ‘It is indeed.’

A little silence fell, and to fill the space she added, ‘Now that I’ve finished working for Mr and Mrs Marren I have a little free time, you see. So it seemed an ideal time – to visit my aunt.’

‘What time are you leaving?’

‘Pappy’s driving me to Liddiston station at ten. I shall get a cab at the other end.’

‘You’ve stayed with her before, haven’t you?’

‘Oh, yes, on several occasions over the years. She’s my father’s elder sister.’

‘Well, I’m sure she loves your company.’

‘I hope so.’ This was so much small talk, she thought, chatter to fill space. ‘Billy said he saw you near the post office,’ she said. ‘You were riding through the village.’

‘Oh, I didn’t see him.’

‘No – you were going in the other direction.’

‘Ah.’ He gave a grave nod.

The conversation was not easy, Grace thought. ‘How long are you home for?’ she asked.

‘At least seven weeks, as far as I know. There’s some refitting to the ship to be done. Then we sail for Jamaica again.’

‘So you have a nice long time at home.’

‘It will be pass in the blink of an eye. It always does.’

Grace nodded. The period between their meetings had caused a certain shyness between them, she thought. But it was only natural, and they would get through it soon. They would have time now that he was back.

A little silence fell between them, then Grace said, ‘Goodness, I don’t know what I’m thinking of – I haven’t offered you any tea. Would you like some?’

She began to rise from her seat, but he gave a hurried gesture for her to remain. ‘No, thank you, really. I had some just before I came out.’

‘It’ll only take a minute.’

‘No, honestly, thank you. I can’t really stay that long.’

His words took her a little by surprise. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’m sure you must have a lot to do, having just arrived back.’

‘Yes – this and that.’

There was something wrong, Grace thought. Granted, there would be acknowledgement of the death of her mother, and the family’s grief, but in spite of that there should have been a greater ease between them. But it was not there. He had not even made a step towards her. And the conversation, such as it was, was constrained, stilted. In
her mind she had pictured their reunion – and it had never been like this. She was aware suddenly of the silence in the room, and in the quiet she heard the singing of a blackbird in the flowering cherry just outside the window.

‘And how have you been, Stephen?’ Grace asked.

‘Oh – well, thank you. Very well.’

‘You certainly look well. The tropical air obviously agrees with you.’

‘Perhaps it does.’

The silence again. Then he said, ‘I came a little earlier this evening because – well, because I had to talk to you.’

She studied his expression, noting the way his glance shifted away, as if unable to rest on hers for more than a moment. ‘Couldn’t it wait?’ she said with a smile.

‘I – I suppose not.’

Another little silence.

‘Are you sure you won’t have some tea?’ Grace said.

‘No, really, thank you.’

‘Perhaps,’ lifting a hand, gesturing towards the sunlit window frame, ‘you’d care to go outside. It’s such a lovely day – and cooped up in here on such a day, it seems a crime.’ The thought flashed into her mind that she was playing for time.

‘Grace,’ he said quickly, ‘Grace – this is very difficult for me. I don’t know how to begin.’

A little silence, then Grace heard herself say, ‘What is it you want to say to me, Stephen?’ She was forcing herself to sound calm. ‘Tell me.’

There was a long pause and then, still avoiding her eyes, he said:

‘I – I’m to be married.’

His words, soft in the stillness of the room, struck her like a blow, and inwardly she flinched. She felt that she wanted to rise and run from the room, but she could do nothing except remain where she was, standing there, gazing at
him, while outside in the cherry tree the blackbird filled the early evening air with his song. And then at last Stephen turned his eyes to her again – and now it was her turn to look away.

‘I’m so sorry to tell you like this,’ he said.

She gave an inward little shrug, and forced a smile to her mouth. ‘Well, it is something of a surprise, I must admit.’ In truth, she thought, it was like living in a bad dream; perhaps in a moment she would awake and reality would be there. But for the time being she must behave as if she were not moved. ‘Do I know the lady?’ she asked.

‘No. She – Miss Shilford – Victoria – was a passenger on board the ship.’

‘Ah,’ Grace heard her voice say, ‘ – so that’s how you met.’ She could feel pain in the tightness of her throat. ‘When is it to be?’ she asked. ‘The wedding.’

‘Oh, well – we’ve not set a date yet – but some time in the spring, we think.’

‘Well, let me say that I hope you’ll both be very happy.’

‘Thank you, Grace.’ And then he was rising from his chair, was coming towards her, was reaching out. As she rose before him her hand was taken in his, suddenly cool in the warmth of his own. ‘Grace – my dear friend,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

‘For what, Stephen?’

‘For being so – understanding.’

‘Oh, Stephen, please …’ She withdrew her hand and turned away. His dear friend he had called her. Had his words been so carefully chosen – chosen in order to place their relationship on an uncomplicated footing? Dear Friend. Taking a deep breath, she spoke again, now trying to sound more brisk and casual. ‘Look, I’m afraid you caught me at a difficult time. I’ve got a dozen things to do, and –’

‘Yes, I’m sure you must have.’ There was no missing the note of relief in his voice. ‘And I mustn’t detain you.’

Forcing herself to keep up the charade of being calm and unmoved, she gave him a smile, then turned, opened the door and led the way out into the hall. Neither spoke as they reached the front door, where, with the door open, they stood awkwardly facing one another again.

‘Where is she from?’ Grace said, ‘ – your Miss Victoria?’

‘From Redbury.’

‘She’ll be lonely when you go back to sea.’

‘Yes, well – I’m resigning my commission in the service. When I go away next it will be for my last voyage.’

‘I see. And then where will you go? To Redbury?’

‘Well – when we’re married, Victoria and I – we’ll come to live here.’

‘In Green Shipton?’

‘I’m to help my father in the running of his business. It’s what he’s always wanted.’

‘I see. Yes, of course.’ Grace nodded. ‘You’ve come to some very – swift decisions.’ She was aware of a sharp little note of bitterness touching the edge of her voice, and fought to dispel it. Careful of her tone, she added, ‘So you and your wife will be living here in Green Shipton.’

‘Yes. Oh, Grace, I know that you and Victoria will become such good friends. She really is the finest young lady you could wish to meet.’

She remained standing in the room after he had gone, standing there with one hand on the back of a chair, in the very same position she had been in when he had reached out, shaken her hand and, with a final uncertain goodbye, had gone from her sight. And still she could hear the echo of the sound of the horse’s hoofs fading on the cobbles of the yard. A sound at the door, and she looked around to see Billy standing there, looking at her questioningly.

‘Grace, are you all right?’

‘What?’ Grace gave herself a mental shake and smiled.
‘Of course I’m all right.’ She bent and began to rearrange some flowers in a bowl on the table. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

‘He was only here a few minutes.’

‘Well, yes – he has things to do. He’s a busy man – having just arrived back home.’ She straightened, clasped her hands before her in a businesslike manner. ‘And I have things to do as well. I can’t stand here all day.’