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‘Oh, good, I can’t help feeling that if we see more of each other we may eventually become friends. How about coming to dinner tomorrow evening? We’ll go to Popjoy’s and then go on somewhere to dance.’
A distressing vision of the blue velvet and the green jersey floated before Annis’s eyes. She’d heard of Popjoy’s, it was smart and expensive, and nothing would induce her to go there in either of these garments. With real regret she knew she would have to refuse, and the awful thing was that she actually had the money in her purse to buy that pretty blue crêpe she’d seen, only there was no time in which to buy it.
‘That’s awfully kind of you,’ she said carefully, ‘but I—I’m afraid I can’t accept.’
‘Why not?’
She sought for a good reason in a frenzy and couldn’t think of one. Being a parson’s daughter and the eldest, with a good example to set the others, she had been taught to speak the truth; only if it was going to hurt the hearer was it permissible to prevaricate. Well, she couldn’t see that Jake was going to be hurt. If anyone was, it would be herself, having to admit that she had nothing to wear. She gave him a very direct look and explained: ‘I haven’t got a dress.’ She had pinkened slightly in anticipation of his amusement, but she didn’t look away.
Jake didn’t smile, he said in a calm voice: ‘That’s a problem, but surely we can get round it? Have you got enough money to buy one?’
Strangely she didn’t feel offended at the question. ‘Well, yes—Mrs Duvant paid me, but you see I wouldn’t have time to get to the shops.’
‘Any particular shop?’
‘Jolly’s in Milsom Street.’
‘I take it that if you did have a dress you’d come to dinner with me?’ He wanted to know.
‘I’d like to, that’s if we could…that is, if we wouldn’t get on each other’s nerves.’
He did smile then, but in such a friendly fashion that she smiled back. ‘You never got on my nerves,’ he assured her. ‘Tell me, are you one of those women who take hours to buy something or could you find what you wanted in half an hour or so? Because if you could, we’ll go now: I’ll run you there in the car.’
Annis was out of her chair and making for the door. ‘Give me five minutes!’
The dress was still there. She left Jake browsing in a book shop and went to try it on. The colour was becoming, a shade darker than her eyes, and the dress, although inexpensive, was quite well cut, made of some thick silky material with a chiffon ruffle outlining the neck and the cuffs. Examining herself in the fitting room, Annis decided that it would do very well; it could take the place of the blue velvet and that garment she could consign to the jumble sale. She didn’t think it was quite the sort of dress Jake’s girl-friends would wear, but since she wasn’t one of them that didn’t matter. She paid for it and on the way out spent most of the change on a pair of bronze sandals going cheap but nonetheless elegant.
Jake was still in the bookshop, but he picked up the armful of books he had bought when he saw her and took the dress box from her. ‘Twenty minutes,’ he remarked. ‘Not bad. Did you find what you wanted?’
‘Yes. I hope it’ll do. We don’t go out much at home and I don’t often buy that kind of dress.’
Jake gave her a quick look. If the deplorable blue velvet had been anything to go by, he could not but agree with her. ‘I’m sure it will be very charming,’ he said comfortably. ‘If you’ve got all you want, we’ll go back. Aunt Dora will be wanting her tea.’
She was waiting for them, sitting in the small straightbacked chair she favoured, leafing through a pile of fashion magazines.
‘Such a pity I’m all the wrong shape,’ she greeted them. Her eyes fell on the dress box. ‘You’ve been shopping—how delightful! Do let me see.’
‘Since you’re playing bridge tomorrow evening, Aunt Dora, I’ve asked Annis out to dinner.’ Jake had strolled over to the fire with his back to Annis, busy undoing her purchase.
‘Now that is a good idea,’ enthused Mrs Duvant. ‘Hold it up, dear.’
Annis did so, suddenly doubtful because in the splendidly furnished room with Mrs Duvant’s wildly expensive outfit it looked what it was; a pretty inexpensive dress off the peg. But she was reassured at once by Mrs Duvant’s warm admiration. ‘Oh, very nice,’ she declared, ‘and such a lovely colour. Shoes?’ She had glanced down at Annis’s sensible low heels.
‘Well, just as I was leaving the shop I saw these.’ Annis produced the sandals and the two ladies examined them. ‘They were going cheap and they’ll be useful, because if I ever buy another dress, they’ll go with almost anything.’
This ingenuous remark brought a smile to Jake’s mouth; it was a very gentle smile and amused too. He had thought, when he first met Annis, that she was a bossy elder sister, prone to good works and with far too good an opinion of herself. That she was quite beautiful too, he had admitted without hesitation, but he hadn’t quite believed her occasional dreaminess and her apparent contentment at the Rectory. Now he admitted that he had been quite wrong; she had made no effort to impress him—indeed, she had avoided him, she dealt with Mrs Duvant’s endless small wants without as much as a frown, and he had been touched by her frank admission that she couldn’t go out with him because she hadn’t got a dress. He reflected ruefully that any of the girls he knew who had said that to him would have expected him to have taken them out and bought them one—and nothing off the peg either. He rather thought that if he had suggested to Annis that he would pay she would have thrown something at him. For all her sensible calmness he fancied that at times that red hair of hers might exert itself.
That evening after dinner they played poker, a game Annis had to be taught and which she picked up with ease, rather to Jake’s surprise, until Mrs Duvant remarked that it was only to be expected from a girl who had five A-levels to her credit, and one of these pure Maths. He just stopped himself asking her why she hadn’t gone on to university, because of course, even with a grant, that would have cost money, and there were Edward and James to educate.
They played for high stakes, using the haricot beans Bates brought from the kitchen, and although Jake made a fortune in no time at all, Annis wasn’t far behind him. Mrs Duvant, her black eyes snapping with pleasure, lost over and over again and when they at last called a halt, thanked heaven that she had been playing with beans and not money. But it had been good fun. Annis carefully gathered up the beans and returned them to Bates before going upstairs to bed with Mrs Duvant, leaving Jake by the fire, a briefcase of papers on the floor beside him, and a glass of whisky on the table.
The next morning Mrs Duvant announced that she had a wedding present to buy for a friend’s daughter, and since Jake said that he had some work to do, she and Annis went to the shops together. It took almost all the morning, trying to decide between table linen and silver tea knives. In the end Mrs Duvant, never one to cavil over money, bought both.
And after lunch Jake went back to his work and since Mrs Duvant had retired for her usual nap, Annis got into her outdoor things and went for a walk in the park. It was a chilly, blustery day and somehow it suited her mood; she was feeling vaguely restless, but she couldn’t think why. Everything was all right at home; she had a letter that morning, in another day or two there would be forty pounds in her pocket and she had no worries. She came to the conclusion that Jake’s visit had unsettled her. She had never met anyone like him before; Matt she had grown up with and treated much as she treated her brothers, but Jake made her feel selfconscious and shy, although she had to admit that she was beginning to enjoy his company. She marched briskly into the teeth of the wind and went back presently, her face rosy with fresh air and with a splendid appetite for her tea.
Seen under the soft lighting of her bedroom the blue crêpe looked nice; so did the sandals. It was a pity that she had to wear her winter coat, but she didn’t suppose that would matter overmuch; no one would see it. She went downstairs with it over her arm, admiring the sandals as she went.
‘Very nice,’ declared Jake from the hall. ‘Stunning, in fact. What’s more, you’re beautifully prompt.’
He was in the clerical grey again, looking older and very assured. Looking at him, Annis felt sure that the evening would go without a hitch; he would be a man able to get the best table in the restaurant and instant attention. She said thank you rather shyly and went to say goodnight to Mrs Duvant.
She had been quite right, she told herself as she got ready for bed in the early hours of the next morning; the evening had been one to remember, for her at any rate—although it seemed likely that Jake had spent so many similar evenings with other, more interesting companions, that he would probably forget it at once.
Popjoys was the kind of place she had read about in the Harpers Mrs Avery occasionally lent her. In a Beau Nash house where its guests drank their aperitifs in the elegant drawing-room before going to the equally elegant dining room, it was a world she had never expected to enter. They had eaten mousseline of salmon, spiced chicken with apricots and finished with chocolate soufflé, and just as she had guessed, they had a well placed table for two and the proprietor had welcomed them warmly, conjuring up wine waiter and waiter and recommending the best dishes. Her mouth watered at the thought of the salmon. The wine had been nice too; she had almost no knowledge of wines and beyond Jake’s careless: ‘I think we’ll drink hock, shall we?’ he didn’t bother her about it. She drank what was in her glass and found it delicious. By the time dinner was finished she felt very happy about everything, and when Jake suggested that they might dance somewhere for an hour or two she had agreed very readily. Her sleepy head on the pillow, she couldn’t quite remember where they had gone; an hotel in the town, although she hadn’t noticed its name. They had had a tab
le there too and Jake had ordered some wine, but they had got up to dance before it was brought and since the floor wasn’t crowded and the band was good they went on dancing for quite some time.
Back at the table they talked, but there again she couldn’t remember what they had said, only that it had been pleasant and they had laughed a good deal. She sat up in bed suddenly. Perhaps she had drunk too much and made a fool of herself, but she couldn’t have been too bad, because they had gone on dancing for a long time before getting into the car and coming back. The combined pleasure of the evening lulled her to sleep; she was on the very edge of it when she started awake. With vivid clarity she remembered kissing Jake goodnight in the hall. True, he had kissed her first but she need not have kissed him back with quite such fervour. At the time it had seemed a perfectly natural thing to do, but now she wasn’t so sure; when she got back home to the Rectory she was going to remember it with hideous embarrassment. And pleasure, a small voice at the back of her head persisted.
CHAPTER THREE
ANNIS TOOK as long as she possibly could to dress in the morning. She would have to meet Jake sooner or later, but she wanted it to be later. Her cheeks grew red each time she thought of the previous evening, but awkward or not, she would have to go down to breakfast and there wasn’t much use being cowardly about it. She marched downstairs and went into the dining-room, to find it empty, and when Bates came in with the coffee pot he informed her that Mr Royle had already left for London.
Quite unreasonably, she was instantly furious. Jake might at least have left a message, told her the evening before, given some hint that he wouldn’t be seeing her again. She ate without appetite and was hard put to it to be cheerful when Mrs Duvant came down presently, wanting to know if she had enjoyed her evening with Jake, where they had been, what they had done, and what a pity it was that he had had to go back to London. ‘Though I daresay we’ll see something of him before you go back home, dear.’
Annis said: ‘Oh, yes—how nice,’ and hoped with her whole heart that she’d never see him again. At the same time she felt such a wave of regret at the very idea that she was quite bewildered.
‘Of course,’ went on Mrs Duvant, at her most gossipy, ‘he has so many friends that every moment of his leisure is filled, and he doesn’t have much leisure, I can tell you. And all the girls are after him, and who can blame them? He’s quite something to look at, isn’t he? and with more money than he knows what to do with and not married.’ She shot a quick glance at Annis, sitting quietly unravelling Mrs Duvant’s endless knitting. ‘I thought at first that you didn’t hit it off together, but perhaps I was wrong.’
Annis answered guardedly: ‘We haven’t much in common, Mrs Duvant, and I rather think that Jake asked me out just by way of filling in an evening. I enjoyed it, though.’ Especially being kissed at the end of it, she added silently. She would have to forget that, of course, but no doubt in a few weeks’ time, when she was home again, it would all seem like a dream, and dreams had a habit of fading. She gave the knitting a vicious tug and sat up straight. Besides, she still didn’t like him; he was far too sure of himself, and if he had thought for one single minute that she was going to be like all those other girls and make a play for him, then he was going to be sadly disappointed… She ripped out a row of stitches that had nothing wrong with them at all and had to knit the whole lot again.
It was a good thing that Mrs Duvant had an urge to go shopping, so that the morning and a good deal of the afternoon was taken up with this agreeable pastime, and in the evening there was a film which she particularly wanted to see.
She was a tireless little woman. One day succeeded another and on each of them she discovered something different to do, and when they weren’t somewhere, guide book in hand, they were at the house, discussing new curtains and covers and whether it would be a good idea to have the hall close-carpeted over the polished wood blocks. All in all, the days were filled from morning until bedtime and Annis had little time to feel even faintly regretful of the few days of Jake’s company.
It seemed to her that Mrs Duvant was doing too much, and rather hesitantly she said so.
‘Nonsense, my dear,’ said that lady cheerfully. ‘I’m not one to sit around in a chair and wait to grow old.’ She chuckled. ‘Well, I’m that already, aren’t I?’
‘Of course you’re not, only you look thinner, Mrs Duvant—do you suppose you should rest a little more? Perhaps an hour before dinner each evening?’
‘Certainly not, Annis. What a waste of time that would be! There’s that play we simply must see and the concerts at the Assembly Rooms, and I’ve promised to play bridge at least once a week. No, dear, I’m very happy as I am. Now let me see, where was it we saw that velvet I thought might do for the new curtains?’
So Annis said no more, although she still felt uneasy.
And two days later she knew she had been right. They had just sat down to their dinner when Mrs Duvant said in an urgent voice: ‘Annis, I feel ill…’
Annis took one look at the grey face opposite her and got out of her chair. Mrs Duvant looked awful, but Annis wasn’t the eldest of six, all prone to accident or illness from time to time, for nothing. She scooped up Mrs Duvant from her chair and carried her carefully across the hall, meeting an astonished Bates on the way.
‘Open the sitting-room door, will you, Bates, and telephone the doctor to come at once. Mrs Duvant isn’t well!’
She laid her burden down on one of the sofas in the room, put a cushion under her head and felt for her pulse.
‘I’m not dead yet,’ whispered Mrs Duvant, opening one eye.
‘Of course you’re not,’ agreed Annis bracingly and wishing Mrs Duvant wasn’t such a frightful colour. ‘I’ve asked the doctor to come, though, just to take a look—you may have been doing too much, you know.’
‘Impossible,’ whispered Mrs Duvant, and smiled tiredly.
Mrs Bates had joined them silently and Annis asked her to get Mrs Duvant’s bed ready. ‘Because I’m sure the doctor will want her to rest for a day or two. Can you think of anything else we should do?’
Mrs Bates shook her head and went away, and after a moment Mrs Duvant said more strongly: ‘Telephone Jake—tell him to come, he’ll understand.’
‘When the doctor’s been,’ suggested Annis gently.
‘No, now.’ She gave the ghost of a chuckle. ‘It’s all right, I shan’t go away.’
So Annis went across to the telephone and looked up Jake’s number in the elegant leather book on the table and dialled it. His voice, deep and decisive, answered almost at once.
‘Mrs Duvant asked me to phone you; she isn’t well, we’re waiting for the doctor. She would like you to come.’
He didn’t ask any questions, although she had expected him to, even to suggest that he should wait until the morning. ‘Tell her I’m now on my way,’ he said abruptly, and hung up.
The doctor, when he came, which was within minutes of Bates’s phone call, wouldn’t hear of Mrs Duvant being moved for the moment, and rather to Annis’s surprise he didn’t do much; he took his patient’s pulse, her blood pressure, peered into her eyes and then said rallyingly: ‘I warned you, Dora, you’ve been burning the candle at both ends and they’re on the point of meeting.’
‘Oh, pooh,’ said Mrs Duvant in a voice which was a shadow of its usual strength. ‘I told you I was going to do as I liked.’
‘And now I’m going to do what I like,’ observed the doctor firmly. ‘You’re going to have an injection, just enough to take away the pain and give us a chance to get you comfortable and into your bed.’ He glanced at Annis. ‘If you would be so good as to hold Mrs Duvant’s arm steady.’
Mrs Duvant’s eyes closed within minutes. ‘I’ll carry her upstairs, perhaps you and Mrs Bates can get her undressed?’
Annis nodded. ‘Is Mrs Duvant very ill?’ she asked.
He looked surprised for a moment. ‘She’s dying. She’s had cancer for some months now; I’ve nursed her along, but we both knew that she wouldn’t have long. You didn’t know?’
Annis shook her head. ‘No. Should anyone be told? She asked me to ring her godson, and he’s on his way. She has a brother…’