Judith Page 12
So they strolled across the square and the young man waved them goodbye and Judith waved back. She tied the dog to a tree before they went inside, and Lady Cresswell said: ‘We must give him a name—something suitable…’
‘Something typically English, so that he’ll feel he’s one of us,’ suggested Judith. ‘How about George or Arthur?’
Lady Cresswell considered. ‘Arthur—it suits him.’ She patted his head. ‘Good boy, Arthur.’
The shop was really only a room in a cottage, but it was full of enticing things to buy. Lady Cresswell spent a long time wandering from embroidered teacloths to pottery, from carved wooden boxes to knitted jackets and shawls, before she decided to buy something of everything. Judith, leaving Arthur to keep Lady Cresswell company, took their parcels back to the car and had to rouse a somnolent Augusto to open the door.
It was getting warmer now and she suggested that they might sit in the shade for half an hour before they had lunch—a light meal of salad, fish and ices. By now Lady Cresswell was tiring and it didn’t take much to persuade her to get into the car and be driven back to the villa, where Judith lost no time in making her comfortable on her bed for an afternoon nap. And, that done, she saw to the animals, got into her swimsuit and spent half an hour in the pool before going to lie on the patio. It would have to be a quiet day tomorrow, she decided, and probably the next one as well.
It seemed as though Lady Cresswell was content to idle her days away now that she had had an outing or two, and as the following day was more than usually warm, she was content to sit in a shady corner of the garden, reading and gossiping and amusing herself with the animals, and on the day after that, although she expressed a wish to drive up into the mountains, Judith was able to dissuade her without much trouble. They ate out of doors and played backgammon and talked about clothes, and Judith was relieved to see that her companion was her usual bright self again. There would be days like that, she knew, when Lady Cresswell would be tired and a trifle irritable, and as time went on they would become more frequent, but they could be faced and dealt with; meanwhile, Lady Cresswell was holding her own nicely. ‘It’s so nice to have you, Judith,’ she observed. ‘I can talk to you, I don’t have to pretend and you always know when I’m frightened, don’t you? Not often now, though. I feel so well for most of the time, it’s hard to believe…’
‘You’re holding your own,’ Judith told her, ‘and that’s more important than anything else. Talk about it if you want to; I’ll help you all I can, you know that.’
They smiled at each other in mutual understanding.
They played an hilarious game of Racing Demon that second evening and Lady Cresswell went to bed later than usual. Judith came downstairs again into the quiet house. For Augusto and Teresa had gone to bed and only Mrs Smith and her kittens, snug in the kitchen, were waiting for a last drink of milk, and Arthur, sitting watchfully in the hall, waited too, knowing that a last snack before bed would be offered him. Judith saw to Mrs Smith, fetched a handful of biscuits from the kitchen and went into the sitting room with Arthur. It was a lovely night, warm and bright, with a full moon, and she opened the doors on to the patio at the back of the house. It was quiet too, if one ignored the crickets. She leaned her elbows on the patio railing and looked at the moon, and Arthur came crowding up to her to thrust his rough head against her. He had been bathed for the second time and at last he was beginning to look less like a scarecrow. He growled now, low in his throat, and at the same time Judith heard a car coming up the dirt track. She caught its headlights in the glass doors as a reflection, as she went indoors and shut them and crossed the hall. It might be the doctor, but she didn’t think so—not at almost eleven o’clock at night. It might be Charles Cresswell—he hadn’t phoned for a couple of days, but she thought that unlikely. She waited for the door bell to ring, but although she had distinctly heard the car stop there was no sound. She stood in the hall, staring at the door, just a little scared and glad to have Arthur’s company. He growled again and she turned at the faint sound behind her. Charles Cresswell was standing in the sitting room doorway, watching her.
She said in a tight voice, ‘Why didn’t you ring the bell instead of creeping in like a thief—scaring me to death?’
He put his hands in his pockets. ‘I credited you with more sense. Who else would come as late as this, anyway? And thieves don’t usually drive up in a car and park outside the front door. I saw the light in the sitting room and thought you were there.’ His eyes moved from her face to Arthur. ‘Good God, what have you got there?’
‘Arthur—the dog your mother told you about. He’s a very good dog—he growled. I daresay if I told him to he’d bite you.’
The Professor laughed softly. ‘You look as though you’d like to do that yourself. Always so welcoming, Judith.’ He took a hand from his pocket and snapped his fingers, and Arthur went to him at once and stood gazing up at him as though he worshipped him. ‘At least the dog likes me,’ observed the Professor. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?’
‘No, it’s none of my business. Do you want a drink or something to eat?’
‘The perfect hostess! No, thank you, I’ll get myself a drink and go to bed. Is my mother in good spirits?’
‘Yes. Dr Sebastiao is quite satisfied with her, she’s been resting for the last two days, but only because it’s been warmer than usual.’
He nodded. ‘Then we’ll say goodnight, shall we? Where does Arthur sleep?’
‘In the kitchen with the cats.’
‘I’ll see to him.’ He moved from the doorway and came towards her. ‘Thank you, Judith, for taking such good care of my mother. I appreciate it.’
He bent his head and kissed her surprised mouth, presumably to show his appreciation. It left her shaken and trembling so that she hurried away and up the stairs without looking at him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
NATURALLY ENOUGH, Judith spent a rather sleepless night and got up early. The house was quiet and there was no one about as she went down to the kitchen and put on the kettle for a cup of tea. The animals woke at once, of course, and sat looking at her with hopeful eyes until she produced their food and opened the door to let Mrs Smith and Arthur out into the garden. They were back before she had made the tea, still not quite believing that the door wasn’t going to be shut in their faces. She told them briskly that they were a silly pair, gave them second helpings and bore her tea tray upstairs, to have it taken from her when she reached the landing by the Professor, wearing a dressing gown of subdued magnificence.
‘Be a good girl and fetch another cup,’ he said. ‘I’ll take this in to my mother.’
‘Good morning,’ said Judith pointedly. ‘Your mother is probably still asleep.’
‘Then I’ll wake her up.’ He stood looking at her. ‘That’s a pretty thing you’re wearing. Shall we have a swim in the pool before breakfast?’
She remembered the last time and went pink. ‘No— I’ve got several things to do. I’ll get another cup…’
And when she went back again with it: ‘Why only one? Don’t you have tea in the morning?’
She was suddenly irritable. ‘Yes, of course I do. That’s my tray, I was taking it to my room. Your mother doesn’t have hers until eight o’clock.’
‘Mea culpa!’ He didn’t look in the least sorry.
‘And stop showing off your Latin, because I’m not listening.’
She ran downstairs again, furious because he was laughing gently at her, closed the door and put the kettle on again. He was horrid, the most unpleasant man she had ever met, thoughtless and arrogant and making her feel a fool. She was quite mad to love him, and what a frightful waste of time that was—and probably if he ever found out he’d laugh and make some snubbing remark in a silky voice. She drank her tea, still in a rage, and then crept upstairs to her room, changed into a bikini and went down to the pool. She met him, as she hoped she would, as she was going back into the house, and swept past him wit
h as much dignity as she could muster, draped as she was in a large towel and her hair streaming wetly all over the place. She didn’t look at him as she went past, or she might have stopped at the look on his face.
When she went along to Lady Cresswell’s room, it was to find that Lady in a state of happy excitement. ‘Only imagine, coming late last night! I was so very pleased to see him this morning—and just think, he’s going to drive us to Monchique this afternoon. I think I’ll get up a little earlier today, dear, I feel so well. If I have my breakfast now I’ll be ready to dress by the time you’ve had yours.’
Judith turned a serene face to hers. ‘Pills and chores first,’ she said cheerfully, ‘then I’ll get your breakfast tray. Are you going to sit in the garden in that nice shady corner, or would you perhaps prefer the patio?’
‘Oh, the garden, I think, we’ve such a lot to talk about you can have an hour to yourself, dear.’
‘And Arthur can do with a walk. I’ll go down the road and follow that track on the other side where the orange groves are.’
The Professor joined her for breakfast, maintaining a polite flow of conversation, all of it trivial. It was the kind of talk two strangers might have exchanged, sharing a hotel table, and she was heartily relieved when he said that he had to go into Silves to see the doctor and left her to drink her last cup of tea alone.
He was back before Lady Cresswell came downstairs, sitting in a cane chair in her usual corner. He got to his feet as she joined him and helped her to arrange herself just so, while Judith disposed of the variety of articles necessary for a morning in the garden, and when she had done that she fetched Mrs Smith and the kittens.
Lady Cresswell examined them narrowly. ‘They’re looking well, Judith. We’re going to have lunch a little later, so don’t hurry back. You’ll take Arthur with you?’
Judith said she would, said goodbye without looking at the Professor and went to get Arthur’s lead. At any other time she would have been delighted to have had a couple of hours to herself, but she couldn’t get rid of the suspicion that they were going to discuss her. If Charles was going to marry Eileen Hunt she wouldn’t be wanted, she was sure of that. His would be the task of persuading his mother that other plans for her future comfort would be just as satisfactory as having Judith. And to a man in love these would be perfectly feasible; he must think that his Eileen was a paragon among women, willing to devote herself to her mother-in-law. His mother had said that he was too clever to see things that the less bright cottoned on to at once, and she should know. ‘He needs someone to look after him,’ she observed to Arthur, and was comforted by the understanding look that he gave her.
They had crossed the road and were quite a distance from it, going towards the line of cork trees half way up the foothills, when the sky began to fill with cloud. Judith hurried her steps. There was plenty of shelter ahead of them and if it were to rain she could take cover easily enough.
It began before she was half way there, with Arthur trotting along beside her, just as anxious to get out of the wet as she was. It was no light drizzle either, but a downpour that soaked them both within seconds. What was more, there was a rumble of thunder and then lightning zigzagging across the sky.
Under the trees at last, they made shift to shake themselves dry and then sat down on a patch of ground, trying to keep away from the great drops falling between the branches. ‘It won’t last,’ Judith told Arthur reassuringly, and peered around for a sign of blue sky. There was none; the rain was as drenching as ever and the storm seemed to be almost overhead. It was a fortunate thing that she wasn’t particularly nervous of thunder and lightning, because Arthur was. He had got as close as he possibly could to her, and shivered at each flash. But even Judith was scared speechless as a nearby tree was struck by lightning and some of its branches came tumbling down. There was no time to get away. She slung her arms about Arthur’s hairy chest and ducked her head.
Most of the branches fell clear of them, but by some freak of fate, the last to fall, a solid forked branch, fell squarely across Judith’s ankles, not harming them but imprisoning them just as surely as iron fetters. She had let out a frightened shout, but now she sat up and leaned forward as far as she could to free herself. But it was no good, she couldn’t get a purchase on the branch. After some futile tugging and pulling, she lay back again. ‘This is silly,’ she told Arthur briskly. ‘If you and I had a mutual understanding of each other’s language I could tell you to go home and fetch someone, but that’s out, isn’t it? We must think of something else, and on no account must we panic.’ She tugged gently at a bedraggled ear. ‘Actually, I’m in a panic already and I expect you are too.’ Despite herself her voice shook a little. ‘Let’s have another go.’ She tried to wriggle on to her side, but that didn’t help at all; she wriggled once more, trying to get nearer to her feet so that she could pull harder on the branches and not succeeding at all. Presently she gave up and lay back on her elbows. The storm was rolling away now, rumbling and muttering as it went, but the rain was still pelting down. No one in their senses would be out of doors in such weather—besides, the track she had taken had not the signs of much use about it. ‘Oh, what’s to be done, Arthur?’ she asked her companion, and was surprised when he growled deep in his throat and then began to bark. He hadn’t barked since he had attached himself to her, and she was suddenly frightened. Supposing it was someone who wouldn’t be prepared to help her? Someone she wouldn’t understand anyway. She could be robbed…she had no purse with her, but she was wearing a gold watch and a plain gold chain, not wildly valuable but worth something.
Arthur barked again and cocked an ear, waving his deplorable tail, and now she heard whistling—not a tune, just a whistle any man might use to call his dog, and she’d heard it before—at Hawkshead. She took a deep breath and shouted with all her might.
Charles Cresswell came out of the trees seconds later. ‘All right, all right, you don’t need to bawl like that,’ he spoke testily. ‘And why the hell are you lying there?’
The great wave of delight and relief which had warmed her ebbed away and left her cold. She said with dignity and only a very small tremor in her voice, ‘Because I’m unable to get up.’ The tremor threatened to get out of control. ‘I have tried…’ It would be best not to go on in case he thought she was crying. She looked away and wiped a tear away. ‘I’ve had Arthur for company, he’s been awfully good…’
He stood looking down at her. ‘And rather more sense than I expected—I hoped he’d answer my whistle. Why are you crying?’
‘I’m not!’ she flared up at once. ‘It’s raining and I’m wet. I’d be grateful if you would pull that wretched branch off my feet. I’m very wet…’
He had no jacket and his shirt and slacks were sopping, his hair plastered on to his head like a grey helmet. ‘So are you,’ she added.
He grunted something, bending over her feet and testing the weight of the branch. ‘You’re not hurt?’ he asked. ‘You’re pinned down as neatly as though you’d been measured for it. Keep very still and don’t lift your feet—not so much as an inch.’
He began to pull steadily and in a few moments she was free. ‘No, don’t move yet!’ Judith was surprised at the sharpness of his voice. He picked up each foot in turn and felt it carefully. Only when he had done that did he bend again and lift her on to them, and that surprised her still more, because she was a big girl and no light weight.
Charles made no effort to release her; he stood with his arms round her holding her close, staring down into her wet face, frowning a little.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she demanded.
‘I’m trying to remember why I didn’t like you.’
‘But you still don’t—you told me not to bawl…’
‘Ah, that was because I was afraid you’d been hurt—it made me angry, you see.’
‘Angry?’ She studied his face carefully, the cold inside her rapidly turning to a warm excited glow.
He kissed her again, gently this time. ‘I think it would be a splendid idea if we were to be married,’ he observed, and smiled at her to set her heart ricocheting round her chest. ‘But first we’d better get back to the villa and dry clothes.’
It was difficult to answer him. Judith debated the best way to do it and gave up. Did she say ‘What a splendid idea’, and would that do for both remarks, or should she answer the one about getting married? If she ignored that and said ‘Yes, let’s,’ he might think she was referring to getting married and not to going back to the villa. She ended by saying ‘Well—um…’ and slipping out of his arms and starting to walk back along the track with Arthur trotting beside her and Charles beside her.
She reflected that she wasn’t over-lucky with her proposals—the middle of the night when she was half dead on her feet, and now in a downpour of rain with the tail end of a storm still rumbling its way to the other side of the sky, and her looking like a half drowned creature, covered in mud and twigs and her hair like nothing on earth. He couldn’t have meant it. And this opinion was borne out by his manner as they walked back; beyond curt warnings as to where she should walk, he remained silent. Even at the most difficult bits when he gave her an impatient hand, he had nothing to say.
By the time he had reached the villa the sky had cleared and the sun poured down once more, warming her chilled bones but not her bewildered heart. Lady Cresswell, sitting on the patio still, eyed them with interest.
‘You’re both very wet, my dears. Go and change quickly and tell me all about it when you have; there’s just time before lunch.’