High Master of Clere (12 page)

‘
Want?
’
Verity was so used to Bob
’
s dropping in whenever he came to the school that the question took her aback.
‘
As far as I know he only came to see me that mornin
g
. Why?
’
she asked.

‘
Just,
’
said Daniel evenly,
‘
that I wondered whether he was a regular member of the social club which I notice the junior staff tend to make of your office, apparently when they please.
’

Verity flushed.
‘
That
’
s not quite fair. They never stay when I tell them I
’
m busy, but if you mean they sometimes take their morning coffee with me, I admit they do.
’

‘
Exactly. But do you mind my taking this opportunity to say that while I haven
’
t the slightest objection to your joining the staff for coffee in the staff-room, that
’
s the proper place for it, not your office, which I think you should regard as your workshop, nothing else?
’

‘
I
’
ll remember.
’
But determined to make her point, Verity added,
‘
About Bob—Dr
.
Wales, that is. When he heard me mention the twenty-fifth on the phone he made a joke about its being the anniversary of Agincourt and of El Alamein and also his own birthday. But if you still doubt he could have made a mistake about
that
at least, you ought to ask him to verify what he did hear me say to Miss Cusack
!’

Daniel ignored the spurt of truculence in her tone. Saying,
‘
I think we needn
’
t put Dr
.
Wales on the witness stand. I accept that the whole thing went as you say, but please confirm by letter in future, will you?
’
he squared off some papers and handed them to her.
‘
Since we
’
re launched on
“
shop
”
, these are for your attention in the morning,
’
he added. Then opening the door for her and following her out,
‘
Would you tell
Mrs.
Lytton I shall be late back? Well after midnight, I dare say.
’

He left her in the hall, wondering about him.

Which was the real Daniel Wyatt? The
‘
nice
’
person with whom her mother got on so easily? The usurping opportunist Lance believed him? The stranger suddenly turned companion who had shared with her the childish pastime of throwing duckstones at the sea; the swift-witted man whose adroit intervention had rescued her from Jane Dysart
’
s sly malice? Or the perfectionist taskmaster he had shown himself tonight?

She shook her head over her inability to sum him up. Anyway, wasn
’
t it only in books that characters were wholly
‘
goodies
’
or
‘
baddies
’
, cut to a pattern which everyone recognized? In real life people weren
’
t like that, nor was he. Any more, she supposed, than, to his intimates, he was the unknowable enigma she found him.

But who were his intimates? Whom did he know best
...
love? Who, already perhaps, loved him?

With a small sigh she left the unrewarding curiosity there and went back to Nash.

The habit of going to him during the night woke her at half-past one. Would this be her last vigil with him? she wondered as she reached for her dressing-gown and slippers. Must she steel herself to face tomorrow
’
s grim duty to him? Or would the hope he had given her earlier renew itself and turn into the reality of a second recovery?

Her heart pounding, she slipped down to the kitchen where his basket was set, close to the all
-
night warmth of the radiant stove. She opened the door, then left it wide behind her as the glow from the stove showed up his basket
...
showed up Nash. But not a Nash who w
ould suffer or enjoy, or
know himself loved any more. Even as Verity flung across the room to drop on her knees beside him she knew he had gone ahead of any human decision for him. He was dead.

There had, after all, been no promise in yesterday
’
s brief rally of his faculties. She realized now it had only been the late flaring of a candle about to go out. She had been there for him then and he had made it his farewell to her. But though he looked peaceful now, as if he had known no distress, no struggle at the end, he had died alone, and at the thought desolation and self-reproach engulfed her.

She shed tears then, weeping for her memories, for all the mute reminders of him which she could not escape, for the emptiness of there being nothing more to do for him ever again. Crouched beside him, her eyes shaded by one hand, one of his
‘
wrinkled glove
‘
forepaws in the other, she did not hear Daniel cross the hall, nor know that he paused at the open door, looking in at her, nor even that he was beside her until he stooped and drew her to her feet and into his encircling arms.

He said her name once, then with infinite compassion,
‘
Dear, don
’
t cry so
!’
But he let her
cry and, beyond surprise or resistance, beyond shame at her weakness, she hid her face deep in the hollow of his shoulder and allowed the comfort of his nearness, his gentle touch, to wrap her about.

Her voice muffled against him, she spoke broken
incoherencies.
‘
I—I wasn
’
t here
—
Last night
he seemed
—
Ever since he
’
s been ill I
’
ve come
to him about now. Why had it to be tonight—I mean this morning—that I was too late? Oh, Nash,
Nash, I can
’
t! I
!
’
Sobs choked her and no
more words came, only long-drawn aching breaths which she tried to control.

For long minutes Daniel held her as if she were precious ... a little fragile, saying nothing until she was silent, when he laid his cheek on her bowed head and spoke softly into the air.

He said,
‘
You shouldn
’
t blame yourself. You could have done nothing for him. This way, he died at the hour and the minute that it was destined he should. That is, at no mercifully meant but heartrending decision of yours—and oughtn
’
t you to be thankful for that?
’

‘
I—suppose so. I
’
ll try to be. But if only
—’

Daniel
’
s hand went to smooth her hair.
‘
That
’
s a remorse you needn
’
t feel. He had rallied; you had no warning he might die tonight, and your not being here was no betrayal of the years of happiness you
’
ve given each other. They
’
ll remain as your reward—the rest will pass. And though you
’
re not ready to believe it now, you
’
ll love again, and serve and enjoy again—and invite suffering again without counting the cost. For that
’
s life and it
’
s all worth it. Worth it, do you hear?
Worth
it
!’

As he spoke he gave her a little shake, then held her from him and released her. She guessed he made a business of covering Nash
’
s basket to give her time to wipe her eyes, and when he straightened she managed a wintry smile.

She began,
‘
You
’
re very good. I don
’
t know
how to thank you
—’
at which he cut in,
‘
I
’
ve
been through it myself and it taught me something I
’
m glad to be able to pass on.
’
He looked her over,
making her conscious of her dishevelled hair and puffed cheeks and her homely wool dressing-gown.
‘
You should be in bed and so should I,
’
he said.
‘
But would it help you to sleep if we sat over a cup of tea first
?’

She clutched at the straw.
‘
You
’
d have one with me if I made it?
’

He smiled.
‘
I
’
ll do more. I
’
ll make it myself, if you
’
ll show me where the things are kept. Sit there
’
—he turned a chair to the table—
‘
and if it helps, tell me about Nash when he was a puppy. How old were you when you first had him
?’

‘
I was ten. He was a Christmas present, and when we fetched him from the kennels, he was sick in the car four times on the way home.
’

‘
That must have made him popular with whoever owned the car
!’

‘
That was Father. He was very nice about it, and it made a bond between Nash and me, as I was given to car-sickness myself at the time.
’

Either the stimulation of the tea or Daniel
’
s sympathy made talking easier every minute. But as she went on to tell him more about Nash, another part of her mind was remembering, comparing
...
but what with what?

Suddenly she knew. There had been another time, last summer, when she had needed the same understanding, expected to get it from the man she loved and had been rejected. She hadn
’
t asked that Max should care for Nash as she did; only that he should appreciate that her own love mustn
’
t fail him when he was ill.

Max hadn
’
t been equal to that, hadn
’
t understood. Yet unasked, Daniel had.
Max, whom she had loved, and Daniel in the same channel of her thoughts
—
why?

She realized she was hearing Daniel ask,
‘
And what were you like yourself at ten?
’
and laughed self-consciously.

‘
To look at? Well, snapshots show me rather toothy, with my hair in plaits and a fringe that I glowered under. I had a burning ambition to take Lance out in his pram all by myself. I think I discovered
The Wind In The Willows
that year, and my favourite food was boiled chestnuts. What were
you
like at the same age?
’
She found she wanted quite badly a word picture of the small boy he had been when her mother had known him.

He said,
‘
I
’
m afraid there are no surviving portraits of the subject. They were lost in the blitz which killed my parents, and I was shipped out to Canada soon afterwards.
’

‘
Yes, of course. Were you happy in Canada
?”

He shrugged.
‘
I was desperately unhappy at first, but you could say Canada and I came to terms after a time.
’

‘
You had pets of your own? You said you
’
d been through—all this?
’

‘
Only a yellow mongrel who followed me home from school one day. I had him for nearly eight years, and the bottom of my world dropped out when he died.
’
As Daniel spoke he stood.
‘
I
’
ll tell you about him some other time. Meanwhile it
’
s bed for you, even though you may not sleep. Come along.
’
Though she dreaded the hours ahead, she obeyed, and he went with her to the door of her room.

‘
Try to remember the happy times—h
’
m?
’
he urged, then moved a step nearer, close enough for his breath to fan her cheek. But he only wanted to brush back the fall of her hair from her eyes
—
which made her own reaction to his nearness so shameful to recall later
...

For suddenly she was clinging to him again in an abandon of need she could not define, seeking and
responding like a hurt child to the comfort of the
kiss
which, after an instant
’
s recoil, he gave her, his mouth firm and cool upon her eager lips.

She stood back from him, her eyes lowered before
the unreadable look in his.
‘
I
—’
she began.

But he was turning the handle of her door, throwing it open.

‘
G
o
odnight. You
’
ll feel differently in the morning,
’
he said, and left her without looking back.