Tabitha in Moonlight Page 8

  He hadn’t asked her if she was going to Lyme; she fought disappointment at his lack of interest and said steadily: ‘No, thank you— I—I just asked.’

  But his next question sent her spirits soaring. ‘When do you intend to go to Chidlake?’ he wanted to know.

  ‘I—that is, I don’t often go, not any more.’

  His voice was gentle. ‘Isn’t it your home?’

  She didn’t look at him. ‘It belongs to my stepmother now.’ She had tried to make her voice light and when he said; ‘Tabitha,’ looked at him with a determined smile. He bent his head before she could draw back and kissed her cheek, and she thought she detected pity in his eyes before he dropped their lids, but she couldn’t be sure. He said on a little laugh:

  ‘Isn’t it time the prince came along with the glass slipper, my dear girl?’

  ‘I don’t know any princes.’ Her voice was sour and he ignored her remark, still smiling. ‘What a lot of Tabithas there are,’ he mused. ‘Efficient Tabitha on the ward, outdoor Tabitha on the Cobb, kind Tabitha coming to Knotty’s aid, Tabitha in moonlight and—er—cross Tabitha.’

  She had to laugh. ‘I’m not cross, only you say things…’

  ‘Just as long as you listen,’ he answered blandly, and got up to go.

  She stood where he had left her until Meg came from the kitchen to rouse her from her thoughts with a prosaic: ‘Now, now, Miss Tabitha, daydreaming again, and you promised you’d run up and see Mrs Diment about that bathroom drain.’

  ‘So I did,’ said Tabitha without any enthusiasm at all; her landlady was a pleasant enough person but given to a nice chat at any time of the day. She didn’t want to go; she would have preferred to stay just where she was, thinking about Marius van Beek. She said for the second time: ‘So I did,’ and went unwillingly out of the front door of the little flat and up the stairs to Mrs Diment’s own flat.

  She saw quite a lot of Mr van Beek during the next few days, but on none of these occasions did he give any sign that he remembered any part of their conversation; he was polite, pleasantly friendly even, but their talk was confined to patients and their bones, so that by the end of the week Tabitha began to wonder if her stepmother was right after all, and it was indeed a waste of time trying to improve her looks. She went off duty on Saturday evening, glad that she had changed her day off with Rogers who wanted to go to a wedding on the Monday. All the week she had gone on duty eager to see Marius van Beek; perhaps a day away from hospital with no chance of seeing him at all would bring her to her senses. Meg would be going to her sister’s, she would have the flat to herself. She spent the short journey thinking of all the things she could do. Sunday loomed, inexpressibly dull, before her.

  Meg’s sister lived in Ottery St Mary. Tabitha ran her there in the Fiat after an early breakfast and then went back to the flat. It was going to be a delightful day, warm even for summer, with a vivid blue sky which made Tabitha disinclined for any of the chores she had told herself she would do. Nevertheless, she got her bucket and suds and cloths and started to clean the car; a job she detested but which was long overdue. She had been working without much enthusiasm for ten minutes or so when the Bentley crept up noiselessly behind her and Mr van Beek, looking cool and elegant and lazier than ever, stepped out and strolled towards her. Tabitha dropped the sponge back into the bucket with a tremendous splash and said with artificial calm:

  ‘Good morning. I thought you were at the Johnsons’.’

  ‘Hullo. Yes, I am…’ before he could go on she said quickly, without thinking: ‘Lilith’s not home.’

  He half smiled at some secret joke she felt she wasn’t sharing. ‘No, she isn’t. I wondered if you would like a day out. I feel like a breath of sea air. I hope you do too.’

  So that was it, thought Tabitha; Lilith had refused to spend the day with him and the next best thing was herself, because she was after all Lilith’s stepsister and one of the family—or so he imagined. What more natural than for a man to cultivate the good offices of his future sister-in-law? She spent a few anxious moments warring with her pride, knowing that the battle was lost before she had offered herself even the mildest of reasons as to why she should refuse. She said amiably:

  ‘Yes, that would be nice, but I’m in the middle of doing this.’

  He held out a hand and took the sponge from her. ‘Go and fetch whatever you swim in,’ he advised. ‘I’ll finish this for you. I suppose there isn’t any coffee?’

  She turned at the door. ‘By the time you’re done, it’ll be ready,’ she promised.

  He was putting the final polish to the roof of the car when she returned. In twenty minutes or so she had not only made coffee but changed her dress, re-done her hair and touched up her face, as well as finding a beach bag and her swimsuit. She packed it rather impatiently, because only that week she had intended to buy herself a bikini, something rather dashing and colourful, and somehow hadn’t got around to it. Now she would have to wear her last year’s swimsuit—not, she assured herself, that it would make a scrap of difference what she wore.

  ‘Coffee’s ready!’ she called, and as he came towards her with the bucket in one hand, ‘Thank you, Mr van Beek.’

  He stopped short in front of her. ‘I know it wouldn’t be quite the thing to call me Marius in the ward, but couldn’t you bring yourself to do so at all other times? It makes me feel very old, for one thing, and for another, it gives me the disagreeable sensation that you don’t approve of me.’

  Tabitha said briskly: ‘How ridiculous! Why shouldn’t I approve of you? And I certainly don’t consider you old.’ She added kindly: ‘I’m twenty-five myself, you know, and women get older much faster than men.’

  ‘And that,’ said Marius as he took his mug of coffee, ‘is the sort of comforting remark which you can be relied upon to make at all times.’

  Tabitha thought he was joking; it wasn’t until they had sat down opposite each other at the kitchen table that she looked at his face and saw that he was serious and knew that he had meant every word—a fact which she found didn’t please her at all; it merely proved that he thought of her as Tabby—kind Tabby, if you like—but Tabby, just as everyone else did.

  ‘Very good coffee,’ said Marius pleasantly, and she nodded, unaware that he had been watching her closely. ‘We make excellent coffee in my country—you should try it some time.’

  And so I would, thought Tabitha, still put out, if I had a socking great Bentley to take me there. ‘I’ve not been to Holland,’ she said out loud. ‘I’ve not been abroad since my father died.’

  ‘You like travelling?’

  She nodded. ‘Very much, though I haven’t been far.’

  He wanted to know where and she found herself telling him, reluctantly at first and then thawing to his charm and friendliness so that by the time they got up to go she found herself quite good-humoured again.

  ‘Would you like to swim first?’ he asked as they got into the car. ‘I thought we might take the Totnes road and cut down to Stoke Fleming. We’ve plenty of time, and there’s a good place for lunch at Churston Ferrers.’

  ‘That sounds nice.’ Tabitha’s voice was cool, hiding the delight welling up inside her. She thanked heaven in fervent silence that she could swim.

  The beach was almost deserted. Tabitha, behind a convenient rock, put on the despised suit, bundled her hair into a sensible white cap, and ran down to the water’s edge, where she stopped because despite the heat of the day, the water felt unexpectedly cold; it was only Marius’s voice calling to her from some way out that made her plunge in, to forget the chilliness of the water in the delight of swimming. She swam as she danced, with grace and energy; it took her no time at all to catch up with Marius, loitering in shallow water, she suspected, to see if she was up to his standard. Side by side, they swam strongly out to sea and then turning, swam back, more slowly now, to the beach, where they stretched out, the waves breaking over their feet. Tabitha took off her cap and her hair streamed down in
an untidy mass, shedding pins. She lay quiet in the sunshine while Marius picked them up one by one and made a tidy heap of them beside her. She eyed them worriedly. ‘I’ll never get my hair up again—it takes ages, and I’ve only a tiny mirror with me.’

  ‘Well, I’m not surprised. There’s yards of it, isn’t there? Can’t you put it up when we get to Churston Court? Put it all back in again and I’ll race you out to that dinghy.’

  They swam for another half hour or so and finally left the water to lie down again, pleasantly tired, in the warmth of the sun. Presently Marius rolled over and propped his head on an elbow. ‘Nice,’ he observed laconically. ‘Peaceful and warm and delightful scenery—what more could one want?’

  Tabitha opened one eye and found him looking at her, his face a good deal too close for her peace of mind. She shut the eye again and said, for lack of anything else, ‘Um’, thinking that Lilith would have known exactly what to say. Her stepmother had once told her that she had no sparkle and Tabitha, for once, agreed with her. She was still searching feverishly for some scintillating topic of conversation when Marius said:

  ‘You’re peaceful too. I don’t feel I have to be forever talking trivialities.’

  Tabitha, without opening her eyes, said thank you, fuming silently. He made her sound like a feather pillow, or a middle-aged aunt, or anything else comfortable which could be ignored until wanted. She frowned and he continued: ‘Of course, you have misconstrued my meaning, but for the moment that doesn’t matter. I like your eyelashes.’

  This time Tabitha opened her eyes and sat up. ‘You what?’ she queried in astonishment.

  ‘Like your eyelashes,’ he repeated patiently. ‘Most women have black spiky ones, but yours are thick and brown and the length they are meant to be. They look like those camel-hair brushes artists use.’

  She went pink, recognizing a compliment and hoping it wasn’t just because she was Lilith’s stepsister. ‘Thank you,’ she said gravely. ‘I think I’ll dress.’ Marius got up and pulled her to her feet.

  ‘You don’t believe a word of it,’ he sounded resigned, ‘but of course these things take time.’

  She was still puzzling out this remark when he caught her by the shoulders and kissed her without haste. The kiss was as gentle as his voice had been.

  Churston Ferrers was near the river, between Dartmouth and Totnes. The restaurant was in a restored Queen Anne house, handsomely decorated and obviously expensive. Tabitha, in a powder room of sweet-smelling luxury, re-did her hair and her face too and went to join Marius in the bar, where over their Dubonnet they discussed what they should eat with the deep interest of people who were really hungry. They settled for prawn and oyster cocktails, filet steak with a salad, and strawberries and cream. The meal was delicious and they lingered over it, talking easily. They had reached the strawberries before Tabitha asked:

  ‘What part of Holland do you come from—that is, where is your home?’

  Marius helped himself to cream. ‘Veere—a very small town on Walcheren island, that’s in Zeeland, in the south. My family have lived there for many years—one of my ancestors married a Scotswoman during the reign of James the First, and since that time there have been other marriages with both English and Scotswomen. My father’s brother is married to an Englishwoman—I was staying with them when I had Bill Raynard’s telephone call.’

  Tabitha asked quickly before he could talk about something else: ‘Have you a practice?’

  ‘No—a few patients come to the house, but I have rooms in Rotterdam. I’m on the staff of one of the Rotterdam hospitals and I have some beds in Middelburg hospital as well.’

  ‘Oh, a consultant.’ Tabitha thought how unassuming his answer had been, and like him more than ever, which although it had nothing to do with loving him was, to her mind, almost as important. Hadn’t Mr Raynard said that he was embarked on a successful career? She remembered something else. ‘But you lecture—Mr Raynard said you were going…’

  ‘That’s right. I’ve been over here to team up with some orthopaedic chaps who are on to something new. I went up to Ambleside afterwards—it seemed a good idea to have a holiday before I start my lectures again.’

  She wanted to ask where he was going, but didn’t; instead she asked:

  ‘You like that? More than surgery?’

  He smiled slowly, his eyes crinkling nicely at their corners. ‘It suits me very well at present, though I imagine that when I marry I shall give up a great deal of the lecturing and concentrate on consultant surgery. You see, I should like to see as much as possible of my wife and children.’

  Tabitha blinked her paintbrush eyelashes. ‘Yes, of course. Will you tell me some more about Veere?’

  But presently, when they were in the car again, she found that they were talking about Chidlake and Mrs Crawley and Lilith. It seemed to her that he wanted to know a lot about Lilith, which, she reminded herself, was only to be expected—probably he’d brought her out for that very reason—so she was careful to colour her answers in Lilith’s favour, because even though she knew that she loved him so much that she would never want to marry anyone else—supposing that anyone else should ask her—she couldn’t stand in his way. She considered that Lilith wouldn’t make him a good wife, but that was hardly her business, so that when he wanted to know why Lilith wasn’t earning her own living, Tabitha made haste to point out that she was only just eighteen and hadn’t quite made up her mind, whereupon Marius wanted to know if she herself had made up her mind at that age, to which she hastily replied that yes, she had, but that had been different, and was shocked into silence by his bland: ‘Ah, yes—Cinderella.’

  They crossed Dartmoor, pausing often to admire the scenery, and stopped at Chagford for tea. By now they had stopped talking about herself and her family and to her relief the conversation became the pleasant exchange of ideas and opinions. She was a voracious reader herself; it was nice to find someone who shared her pleasure in books and whose tastes were similar to her own. She discovered, too, that they enjoyed the same music and admired the same pictures too; it seemed inevitable that they should dislike the same things in life. They were still comparing notes on this interesting discovery when they arrived at Meg’s sister’s house, and as they went up the garden path together Tabitha was conscious of regret that they wouldn’t be able to finish their talk.

  They went inside to wait while Meg got ready to leave and stayed for a cup of tea while flowers were picked from the garden and the best of the young peas and beans were gathered for them to take home. It was seven o’clock by the time they were on the road again, with Meg in the back seat, telling them about her day in her soft Dorset voice and asking questions about theirs. Outside the flat Tabitha turned to thank Marius for her day, but he cut her short by saying in the pleasantest possible manner: ‘Oh, but I’m coming in if I may’, and did so. They all went into the kitchen where Podger was waiting anxiously for his supper, and Marius sat quietly while the beast was petted and fed, and only then did Tabitha remember her manners sufficiently to say: ‘Oh, I do beg your pardon, only he was hungry—I’ll make some coffee and we can go into the sitting room.’

  Mr van Beek didn’t move. ‘It’s a lovely evening,’ he observed. ‘I know of a nice place at Dulverton where we could have dinner.’

  He glanced as he spoke at Meg and smiled and she said instantly: ‘Now that’s a good idea, Miss Tabby—you go along, that’ll give me a chance to do one or two things.’

  ‘What things?’ asked Tabitha with faint suspicion.

  ‘Now, love, you leave that to me.’ Meg sounded exactly as she had used to do when Tabitha had queried something that wasn’t her business when she had been a little girl and Tabitha responded unconsciously to her old nanny’s firm voice. She turned to Marius and asked: ‘But aren’t you tired?’

  He said blandly: ‘After such a delightfully relaxing day? Not in the least. Shall I wait here and talk to Meg while you go and powder your nose?’

  She po
wdered her nose; she would have liked to change her dress too, but felt it would hardly do because he was in slacks and a sports shirt and they weren’t likely to go anywhere grand, although she was sure she had seen a jacket on the back seat. She was ready in ten minutes, looking as neat and fresh as when they had set out that morning. The only concession to the occasion she allowed herself was a careful spraying of Fleurs de Rochelle, which maybe accounted for his ‘Very nice,’ when she went back into the kitchen.

  They talked shop all the way to Dulverton, which was only a little more than half an hour’s drive away; they talked about Mr Bow too, although Marius gave her no inkling as to what he intended to do about his old friend when he was fully recovered. By the time they drew up outside the Carnavon Arms she was still none the wiser and had discovered that if her companion didn’t want to answer a question he had a gentle but firm way of not doing so. But she forgot this in the pleasure of his company; he could be an amusing companion when he chose and seemed intent on making her evening an enjoyable one. They dined off lobster Thermidor and a crême brulée and washed these delicacies down with a dry white Burgundy, followed by brandy with their coffee, which must have accounted for Tabitha’s feeling of well-being as they drove back to the flat, a feeling which evaporated slowly as he bade her a pleasant good night at the front door, refusing her offer of more coffee and making only the most conventional remarks about their day together.

  By the time she was in bed, the evaporation was complete. Looking back over the day, she was unable to recall one single remark that she had made that had been witty, clever, funny or even faintly interesting. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to come in; he must have been glad to be rid of her. She fell asleep, convinced that she might just as well scrape her hair back and not bother with her make-up. She woke in the night, suddenly and piercingly aware of how much she loved him and, if he married Lilith, just as aware that she would have to go away because seeing them together would be more than she could bear, just as meeting him would be impossible. He would call her Tabby—probably Old Tabby, in a horribly kind brotherly fashion. She went to sleep much later, her cheeks still damp where she hadn’t bothered to wipe away her tears.