Tabitha in Moonlight Read online

  Tabitha watched him sit down by Lilith again on the big velvet sofa at the other end of the room; he was too far away for her to hear what he was saying, but she saw Lilith put a hand on his arm and look up into his face. She looked away then and encountered Mr Raynard’s eye glaring at her. He spoke grumpily.

  ‘I’m tired—I shall go to bed, and I want my leg rubbed, it’s aching. You can help me upstairs and give me some massage—I think I’ll have a Panadol too.’

  Tabitha got him to his feet with a relief which showed in her face. It was blissful to leave the hubbub of cheerful voices and allow her stiff little smile to relax. Mr Raynard hardly spoke except to grumble, but he had said he was tired and she took no heed of his silence. She was bending over his injured leg, gently kneading its muscles when he snarled:

  ‘Why in the name of heaven I should come to bed early just to make things easy for you, I don’t know.’ Which remark sent her upright, staring at him. ‘You what?’ she repeated, and felt her cheeks paling.

  ‘Well, you were hardly surging along on the crest of a wave, were you?’ he demanded.

  She gave him an agonized look and he went on rapidly: ‘Oh, don’t worry, everyone else was far too busy being the life and soul of the party—excepting old Knotty—Muriel too, I suspect, though you never can tell with women.’ His voice was testy. ‘What made you look like that anyway? What was that stepmother of yours saying to you? Or was it the sight of Lilith showing us all how to get your man?’

  Tabitha’s pale cheeks took fire as she bent over her massaging once more. She had no intention of answering him, but instead asked almost humbly, because she had a great respect for Mr Raynard even though he was so short-tempered: ‘Do you think I should leave—go home?’

  ‘Don’t be a fool, girl—you’re clever enough at hiding your feelings, don’t worry on that score.’

  Tabitha arranged his injured leg gently beside the sound one and adjusted the cradle over it. She said without much spirit: ‘You see, she’s so pretty, and—she makes h—people laugh. I feel like dough.’

  ‘Bread is the staff of life,’ said Mr Raynard ponderously. ‘No man wants a diet of meringues. I know—I’m married.’

  The conversation was getting a little out of hand. She said soberly: ‘Muriel is a wonderful person, Mr Raynard. I’ll fetch the Panadol for you.’

  He let her go, merely beseeching her on her return to remember to call him Bill.

  She didn’t like the idea of going downstairs again, but she did, going into the room quietly, to be accosted almost at once by Mr Bow, who asked her with his usual old-fashioned courtesy if he might go to bed as it had been a long, although delightful day. Getting him to bed took even longer than Bill Raynard, for he was old and slow and forgetful—besides, he liked to talk, but it wasn’t until she at last had him between the sheets that he observed in his mild, elderly voice: ‘Am I right in supposing that you and your relations have little in common? It seemed to me…would it be a good idea if I were to rest here tomorrow? It would, of course, mean that I should have to ask you to remain with me.’

  Tabitha bent down and gave him a quick hug. ‘You are a dear,’ she pronounced, ‘making a loophole so that I can run away and hide—but I won’t.’

  His blue eyes brightened. ‘Ah, I thought you wouldn’t, but I felt that I should ask. I see that you have a militant spirit hidden away somewhere and I must say that I am glad, for I should very much like to go—I do so enjoy the role of spectator, Tabitha.’ He gave her a shrewd glance. ‘But you do not, my dear.’

  Tabitha said ‘No,’ baldly, and then because her stretched nerves were in tatters: ‘Don’t you dare pity me!’

  Mr Bow, quite undaunted by this show of ill-humour, patted her hand. ‘Pity,’ he stated, ‘is for those who can no longer help themselves. I have no pity for you, Tabitha, but I must confess that I have grown very fond of you. I have fancied from what I have heard—and forgive an old man his liking for gossip—that you could be compared with Cinderella, but I think that you are rather more—er—mettle-some than she was.’ He lay back on his pillows and closed his eyes. ‘Good night, my dear Tabitha.’

  When she went downstairs for the second time it was to find her stepmother and Lilith gone, and Marius with them. She received this news from Muriel in silence before stating her intention of going to bed. ‘Because,’ she declared with a most realistic yawn, ‘it was a long day in the fresh air, wasn’t it? I’m half asleep.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Muriel, ‘for there’s no point in staying up; if Marius stays for a drink, he’s bound to be late. We leave at nine in the morning, by the way. It’s settled that we should sail across to the other shore where there are some woods—it sounded very remote and much further than we went today. But it seems that the wind will be right. We’re to take lunch and have a late tea and leave about six, joining the rest of the party at the hotel for dinner.’

  ‘What fun,’ Tabitha murmured in a hollow voice; perhaps she could sicken for something meanwhile. She and Muriel parted on the landing and she went up to her room, to sit by the window in the dark until she saw Marius’s tall figure strolling back from the hotel. He had his head bent, deep in thought; even if he had looked up he couldn’t have seen her, all the same she drew back from the window. It wasn’t until she heard his quiet footfall on the stairs below and the shutting of his bedroom door that she went to bed.

  On the surface at any rate the two parties set off in the highest spirits the next morning. Tabitha, scorning competition and aware that it wouldn’t be of much use anyway, wore her slacks and a matching sleeveless sweater, its collar unbuttoned; her hair she had tied back with a scarf the colour of the water; her bikini was in her beach bag, the only defiant gesture she had made. As it turned out, it wouldn’t have mattered what she was wearing, for when they reached the Piet Hein it was to find Lilith waiting for them in white short pants and a thin silk shirt, her bright hair tied by a scarf which exactly matched her eyes. Tabitha couldn’t blame any man for staring at her; she looked as though she had stepped straight out of a glossy magazine and she was in tearing spirits. Tabitha wished her stepsister good morning and wasn’t in the least surprised when she received no answer. Lilith wasn’t likely to waste her charm upon her. Even as Tabitha turned to take the picnic basket from Hans, she had hooked her arm in Marius’s and stood looking up at him like some beautiful beseeching child. But whatever it was she wanted, she didn’t get her way, for Tabitha saw her turn away frowning until Marius called to her as she was leaving the boat. She couldn’t hear what it was he said, but it transformed the frown into a smile as she ran off to where Jan van Steen’s yacht was moored. Tabitha had met the young man briefly and had liked him. He had been, Marius had told her, a friend of his sister’s and still was. ‘More money than sense,’ Marius had said, ‘but a nice enough chap.’

  Tabitha stood idly watching Lilith skip aboard the other yacht. Her stepsister would find it useful to have a young man handy with a boat and certainly a car as well. She watched Lilith talking to Jan, knowing that he stood no chance against Marius in Lilith’s clever scheming head.

  The wind was fresh; the yacht flew over the water with Marius at the helm and the two girls making coffee while Hans, closely followed by Smith and advised by Mr Bow and Bill Raynard, attended to the sails. After a time they drew away from the other boat and were well ahead of them when at length they tied up at a convenient jetty. There was time to get Mr Bow and Mr Raynard comfortably installed in their canvas chairs under the trees which grew down to meet the sand, and unpack the baskets before Jan hailed them. Tabitha slipped away then, changed into her bikini and went down to the water, surprised to find Muriel already there.

  Muriel wasn’t a strong swimmer; it seemed unfriendly to leave her pottering about on the edge by herself. Tabitha lay on her back, paddling along gently to keep pace with Muriel’s earnest efforts at the breast-stroke. Their conversation was spasmodic and unimportant, enabling Tabitha to k
eep a sharp eye on what was going on on the beach. Marius, she saw with a sorrowful resentment, had strolled down to meet Lilith, to talk for a few moments and then part again. Presently Lilith, looking stunning in a white bikini of minuscule cut, sauntered down to the water’s edge, followed almost at once by Marius. Tabitha heard him ask: ‘Are you a good swimmer, Lilith?’ and was annoyed to miss her answer. Lilith swam quite well, Tabitha acknowledged to herself, by now in a nasty temper, but she had no staying power; she hoped that Marius would take her out a long, long way so that she would get so fed up that her smiling mask would drop and he would be able to see the real Lilith.

  She was sorry for the thought almost before it had crystallised in her mind; to punish herself she turned her back on the pair of them and offered to show Muriel how to do the crawl. She was still engrossed in this task when she heard them swimming towards the beach again. She heard Lilith’s laugh, a little strained and apologetic, and Marius didn’t laugh at all. She longed to look round but instead invited Muriel to swim to the nearest breakwater. They were half way there when they were overtaken by Marius. He said without preamble: ‘Lilith’s tired—I’ve left her on the beach to get her breath. Muriel, be an angel and keep her company. Tabby, come for a swim—it’s far too good to go in yet.’

  She turned obediently and struck out strongly beside him, happily aware that she could match his energy if not his strength. They swam side by side, away from the shore and presently, by mutual consent, turned on to their backs. Marius, his head cushioned in his hands, lay supine, his eyes closed. After a minute he spoke.

  ‘You swim as you dance, Tabitha, as though you enjoyed it.’

  ‘Well, I do—I like doing things out of doors, though I simply love dancing.’

  He opened his eyes. ‘Tabby, will you wear that pretty dress this evening?’

  She flipped over and under the calm water in an easy surface dive before she answered. ‘It’s about all I’ve got with me,’ she said matter-of-factly, ‘though I bought a gorgeous dress at that boutique. So did Muriel. We’re going to give you all a surprise one evening, so don’t tell the others.’

  His voice was grave. ‘No, I won’t—we seldom discuss clothes, you know.’

  ‘Oh, you know what I mean,’ she laughed, half exasperated, and then gave a small scream as he caught her by the heels and pulled her under. She came to the surface, her hair, loosed from its pins, hanging in a wet curtain over her face and shoulders. Marius parted it so that she could see, laughing with her, though there was no laughter in his voice.

  ‘Oh, Tabitha, you are such fun to be with—and so different.’

  He had his hands on her shoulders as they drifted a little, treading water, and it seemed to her that his eyes had caught its colour as well as its gleam—staring up at him she felt a pleasant tingle run up her spine. She put up a hand to brush the hair away from her face and at the same moment heard her stepmother’s voice, very clear in the stillness around them.

  ‘I expect we’re wanted for lunch,’ said Tabitha, in a voice which shook just a little. She twisted away from him and started for the beach.

  She didn’t hurry with her dressing and joined the picnic party at length, her hair tied back without any effort at glamour. She had seen her stepmother’s face when she and Marius had left the water and the expression upon it hadn’t been nice. She sat down between Muriel and Bill Raynard and although she took part in the talk, she said nothing to add to its interest, and when Knotty complained gently after they had finished their lunch that he had an aching ankle, she offered to massage it for him, so that when Marius suggested that they should all go for another swim she was able, in the most natural way imaginable, to decline.

  On their own, Knotty, who had appeared to be dozing lightly, became very much awake. ‘How thoughtless I am, keeping you from all the fun.’ He sounded penitent.

  ‘I had a swim before lunch,’ said Tabitha gently, ‘and I like being here with you.’

  ‘Yes, I know. Tell me, had you never thought of leaving your job at St Martin’s, my dear Tabitha, and going a long way away? London or Scotland or somewhere similar.’

  ‘I couldn’t live in London, though it must be fun to stay there with someone to look after you all the time…’ She paused, a little pink, but Mr Bow was looking at her with the bland innocence of a child. ‘I had thought of going away, but you see I’m near Chidlake at St Martin’s, and it was home. I don’t think I could bear never to see it again.’

  Mr Bow smoothed his beautiful white moustache. ‘Tell me about Chidlake,’ he invited.

  When she had finished, skipping the more unpleasant aspects of her relationship with her stepmother and Lilith, he said gently: ‘H’m, yes—you have been dealt a backhander by fate, have you not, Tabitha? A great pity.’

  ‘Yes, but don’t think I’m sorry for myself, Mr Bow.’

  ‘I don’t, my dear young lady, that is why I like you.’ He added, ‘Marius is never sorry for himself either—I like him too.’

  ‘He’s very nice,’ said Tabitha inadequately while she tried to think what Marius could possibly have to be sorry about. ‘I think I’ll start getting the tea, because Hans and Smith are on board and I daresay they’ve fallen asleep.’

  Tea was a protracted meal. Bill Raynard had slept for most of the afternoon and had wakened refreshed and in a mood to tell amusing stories, of which he had an endless number. Tabitha, sitting beside young van Steen, tried not to watch Lilith, sitting so close to Marius with a charming air of ownership. And once when she looked up, it was to see Marius looking down at his companion with a look of amused tolerance and something else in his face which she was unable to define. Perhaps it was love, she thought miserably; she knew so little of it that she doubted if she would recognize it if she saw it.

  They packed up to go shortly after tea, because it was getting on for six o’clock and it would take two hours to get back to Veere. They all stood around, arguing lightheartedly as to who should go with whom. Tabitha took no part in the discussion and when she heard Lilith say: ‘But you promised me, Marius,’ wasn’t in the least surprised when he asked her carelessly if she would mind going back with van Steen. But even as she opened her mouth to agree Mr Bow said forcefully: ‘In that case, I shall stay here. I refuse to sail without Tabitha—she’s the only one who knows how to deal with my cramp.’

  Tabitha succeeded in not looking astonished. To the best of her knowledge Mr Bow had never once complained of the cramp; she remained silent waiting for someone to speak. Muriel solved the problem by saying:

  ‘Bill and I will go in Jan’s boat if he’ll have us as well as Mrs Crawley, then you can have Hans and Smith and Knotty, and Lilith and Tabby to crew, Marius.’

  Marius said lazily: ‘Just as you like—it really makes no difference to me.’ He turned to Mr Bow. ‘Sorry I overlooked the cramp, Knotty.’ His voice was dry.

  They all made their way to the jetty where the two boats were moored and Tabitha was vaguely surprised to find Lilith beside her, for she had seen her only a few minutes previously, in deep conversation with Muriel. Her stepsister drew close to her and said in an urgent whisper: ‘Tabby—Tabby, do help me!’

  Tabitha felt surprise and then concern; she asked quietly: ‘Are you all right, Lilith?’

  ‘My sunglasses,’ said Lilith. ‘I’ve left them where I undressed—you know, behind those trees. There was a little patch of soft grass and I put them down because I thought they’d be safe. Now I’ve got a simply awful headache, I can’t bear it without them—I shall be sick if I don’t wear them. If I could just get aboard and sit quiet for a bit. Tabby, will you get them for me?—it’ll only take a few minutes and no one’s ready to go yet.’

  Tabitha said nothing; it was true, no one seemed ready to sail as yet. There would be plenty of time and it was only a short distance. She gave Lilith her beach bag to hold and asked: ‘Did you undress to the left or the right of that little patch of grass in the trees where we all were?’
<
br />   Lilith looked vague. ‘Oh, I can’t remember. How mean of you to bother me when my head’s so bad. You’ll find it easily enough and you’ll see the glasses—they’ve got white rims.’

  Tabitha turned away and started to walk back to the fringe of trees behind the stretch of sand. She looked round once. No one was looking her way and they were already going aboard; she would have to hurry, although she didn’t think Marius would mind waiting for her. She reached the trees and found the little grassy space in their midst where they had dispersed to dress. There were, she saw with faint unease, a great many little mossy patches. She started to search, starting on the left and working round, clockwise, and found nothing. She started once more, for it seemed to her that she had been only a few minutes, going more carefully this time, and drew a blank once more. She was just turning away when it occurred to her that Lilith might have found some other grass patch other than the one she was in. She cast around her and discovered a vague path running deeper into the trees, and presently another stretch of grass. She searched this one too, and because she didn’t like to admit defeat, searched again and then went back the way she had come, going slowly in case she had missed the glasses on the path somewhere. She was uneasily aware by now that she was keeping Marius waiting and quickened her steps, at the same time becoming aware of the regular chug-chug of engines. Perhaps Jan van Steen had already gone and Marius was waiting, surely impatient by now.

  She came out on to the sand and halted, staring unbelievingly at the two yachts, already well out into the lake, and with the steady thud of their engines and the off-shore wind, she doubted if anyone would hear her. All the same she cupped her hands round her mouth and shouted, and then, when it became obvious that no one had heard her, she waved. She waved and called for a long time, running foolishly down to the end of the jetty in the absurd hope that they would hear her more easily. It was while she was there that she found her beach bag thrown down on the sand beside the jetty and realized that Lilith had sent her back deliberately and had somehow made them believe that she was on board. Her rage gave her added strength—she shouted again, although she knew it was hopeless. The yachts were too far away, and even if anyone looked back she would be but an indistinct figure; besides, it was likely that Lilith had told them that she was in the other boat. She shouted again, her voice a little hoarse, as she watched the boats round the spit of land which took them out of her sight.