Primrose Square (16 page)

‘He's the tutor.'

‘The tutor? He's in charge? Teaches you?'

‘That's right.'

‘An educated man, then?'

‘Yes, he went to the university here.'

Barry whistled and took out a packet of Woodbines.

‘Mind if I smoke? I'm trying to cut down – bad for my game – but I could do with one now.'

‘I don't mind. Go ahead.'

‘Thing is, I understand why you didn't want to tell your folks.' Blowing smoke, Barry nodded his head. ‘You thought they'd no' approve, eh? A university man – he'd never be right, never think you were right, so what's he playing at, they'd be asking? That what you thought?'

‘More or less. But there's another thing – tutors aren't supposed to get involved with students, so Stephen said we should wait to tell folk until the course was over. Then we'd be free to do as we liked.'

‘Stephen  . . . I'm glad you said his name.'

‘I wish I hadn't.'

‘No, it's good. Makes him more real to me.'

‘More real? Why would you want that?'

‘Because I want to win the battle with him. Canna fight a shadow.'

‘Barry, what are you talking about?' Elinor had risen from the bench, her face turning white. ‘There's going to be no fighting! No battle!'

‘Come on, I don't mean real fighting!'

Barry, laughing, stood up with her and took her hand.

‘You know I mean I'm going to try to make you forget him and go out with me.'

‘Look, this is all hopeless.' She snatched her hand from him. ‘I'm never going out with you, so there's an end to it. Let's go back now.'

‘Wait.' Barry ground out his cigarette in the grass and turned to face her. ‘Just hear me out, eh? I'd never try to steal another man's girl if I thought she truly cared for him. Come between two people like that – it'd be the last thing I'd want to do.' He slowly put his hands on her shoulders. ‘But I don't think you do care for this Stephen, Elinor. Can you look me in the eye and say you do?'

‘You don't know me, Barry. How can you say you know what I feel?'

‘I've got the cheek of the devil, but I think I know, all right.'

He was drawing her closer to him, gradually enfolding her, his eyes steady on her face, and she was making no move to pull away, her great eyes returning his gaze as though they would never look away, until he kissed her lips, and then her eyelids closed.

‘Why did you come across the square to me?' he whispered, as her eyes flew open and she began to free herself from his arms. ‘Why are you here with me now? If you care for him?'

‘People will be watching,' she gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘Let's go, Barry, let's go.'

‘There's no one watching. We needn't go yet.'

But she was already on her way, hurrying from him, as though that would solve everything, knowing it wouldn't, but not looking back. Of course, he caught up easily, stretching out his arm to take hers, but she shook her head.

‘No, it's no use, Barry, I couldn't  . . . I couldn't do what you want. I couldn't hurt him. Don't ask me to.'

‘All I'm asking is you do what's right.'

As they reached the tram stop, he let go of her arm and they stood together, breathing fast, not speaking until the tram arrived and they could take their seats.

‘You have to do what's right for both of you,' Barry murmured then. ‘That's only fair.'

‘I do care for him,' Elinor declared. ‘You're wrong to say I don't.'

‘You think you do. But you were just flattered, eh? Carried away that your teacher should've fallen for you. That's all it was, Elinor, I promise you.'

‘Talking like that will do no good, Barry. I'm no' listening, anyway.'

‘I'll say no more, then,' he said cheerfully. ‘But I bet you've heard what I've said. Think about it.'

‘You'll come in for your tea?' she asked, when they were back in Friar's Wynd, but he shook his head.

‘Please thank your ma, but I'd best get back. Bettina will have something ready.'

She hesitated. ‘Your sister looks after you and Georgie very well, I expect. I'm sorry about your mother and father.'

‘Aye, it's been hard. Specially when Ma went. Only two years ago.'

‘Look, are you sure you won't come in? My folks will be disappointed.'

‘Another time, eh?' His hazel eyes sparkled. ‘Or won't there be another time?'

She shook her head. ‘Goodbye, Barry.'

Though he made no move to kiss her again, she turned quickly into her father's shop anyway, leaving him to touch his hat and walk away. Without, she noticed, saying ‘Goodbye', or indeed anything at all.

All the rest of that day and most of the night, she seemed to feel the strength of Barry's kiss on her lips, so strong, so disturbing, and with that feeling came the memory of his words, moving round and round in her mind, round and round, so that she wanted to put her hands over her ears to shut them out  . . .

‘I don't think you do care for this Stephen, Elinor. Can you look me in the eye and say you do? You were just flattered  . . . carried away that your teacher should've fallen for you  . . . that's all it was, I promise you  . . .'

In the middle of the night, while Mattie and Gerda slept the sleep of the just, she actually sat up and cried silently into the darkness, ‘No, no, no more, please!'

But in the morning, after an uneasy sleep that did no good, she knew what she must do. There were two Thursdays left of the course, and on the first one that came at the end of the coming week, she must speak to Stephen. Not to say that she didn't love him, for she did, in a way; he was so special. So fine a character, so handsome, clever, everything a woman could want. But she knew now that he was not the one for her. She didn't love him as she should, as Barry had already guessed; therefore it wouldn't be fair to pretend that she did. The future they had hoped to plan couldn't happen, and she owed it to Stephen to tell him as soon as possible. Which would be Thursday.

But, oh, God, how was she going to get through the days till then? She had said goodbye to Barry, she was quite on her own. How could she face telling Stephen? Watch his face change? Feel the pain of the dagger she had slipped into his heart?

Perhaps he wouldn't be as hurt as she thought. Perhaps she was making too much of what she meant to him. She wasn't vain, she didn't want to think she had the power to hurt him, but her own heart told her that she wasn't making a mistake. Telling him the truth of her feelings was going to wound. And not only him.

As she tried to find the courage to face the next few days, she knew that no one must know, or guess, what she was going through. Secrets, secrets. There had been too many. When all this was over, she vowed never again to have a secret in her life, but just then she couldn't imagine being as free as that.

Thirty

Stephen knew, of course, as lovers do, that there had been a change. Though Elinor had tried to be just as usual at his last-but-one class, she could tell, by his thoughtful look on her whenever she glanced up from her notebook, that he had sensed something was different. She herself was thanking heaven that the session was mainly devoted to revision; for all her thoughts were with the time to come when she would be alone with him, she could never have learned anything new.

At the end of class, when she was putting on her jacket, he managed to catch her eye before being surrounded by other students, and nodded imperceptibly. A sign, she knew, that they would meet as usual on the tram, which was what she wanted, yet sent her heart sinking. Surely someone would notice that her hands were trembling as she adjusted her hat? Surely, she had become very pale? Even Brenda, however, noticed nothing.

‘Oh, next week's going to be so exciting, eh?' she whispered to Elinor. ‘When we all get our references?'

‘What references?'

‘Weren't you listening? Didn't you hear Mr Muirhead say he'd be giving references to all who wanted 'em, and of course, we all do!'

‘Oh, yes, I remember,' Elinor lied, for her attention had been elsewhere even when Stephen was speaking. ‘Thing is, Brenda, it's possible I mightn't be here next week. I might be needed for something at the club.'

‘Why, you're never going to miss our last class?' Brenda cried, her eyes wide. ‘That'd be awful. We're planning to have a celebration, we're going to take Mr Muirhead out for something to eat, and we thought just for once you'd come as well. And now you say you might not be coming at all?'

‘It's no' definite,' Elinor said hurriedly. ‘But if I don't appear, I'll be in touch. I've got your address and we'll meet somewhere.'

‘Oh, yes, that'd be grand, but try to come to class if you can. Mr Muirhead'll be so disappointed if you don't, you know. He's always had a soft spot for you, eh?'

Brenda smiled at Elinor's expression and gave her a quick hug. ‘Think we didn't notice? 'Course we did! But here comes Tam, we're away to the café.'

Everyone was on their way, there were waves and goodbyes and cries of ‘See you next week', and suddenly Elinor and Stephen were alone and waiting for the tram.

‘Thank God,' Stephen said simply. ‘Thought this moment would never come.'

His tone was light, but his eyes were anxious. Pretending to look up the road for the tram, she tried not to meet his gaze, and even when the tram arrived, only smiled briefly as they climbed aboard.

‘What's wrong?' he asked quietly, sitting close beside her. ‘Please don't deny that something is.'

She turned her eyes on him at last. ‘I  . . . have to talk to you, Stephen.'

‘I'm listening.'

‘Away from the tram.'

‘In the gardens, then.'

‘Yes.' She glanced out of the window. ‘It'll be light, though.'

‘Spring is here.' He smiled a little. ‘And we prefer the dark.'

Yes, the gardens, even since their last visit, were different now, with daylight still lingering and people still strolling by, or sitting talking on the seats. There would be no kisses that evening, but then there would be none anyway, whatever the light, and a little stab of pain made Elinor catch her breath. There had been such sweet moments with Stephen, she would never deny them; she only wished from the bottom of her heart that she didn't have to say what she had to say.

Thirty-One

‘I'm beginning to have a bad feeling about this,' Stephen was murmuring. ‘You look so sad. Has something happened to upset you?'

They had stopped beneath trees, away from passers-by, and she turned to face him, bravely holding his gaze again, as he waited for her to speak.

‘Stephen, I'm the one who's feeling bad. I  . . . don't know how I'm going to tell you  . . .'

‘Tell me what?'

‘That we have to say goodbye. I mean, what we had – it was grand, it was lovely – I'll never forget it – but  . . .'

‘But what?' The colour was already leaving his face. ‘Elinor, what are you saying?'

With his hands on her shoulders, he held her quite still so that he could search her face with eyes that appeared dark, were not like his eyes at all. It was as though he was becoming a stranger, as though she had made him one, just as she'd made herself a stranger to him.

‘What's all this about saying goodbye?' he asked in a low voice. ‘What has happened? What's made you talk like this? I thought you were happy with me. I thought we had a future. Elinor, we were making plans, and now it's goodbye?'

‘I was happy with you! I was!'

‘So what's changed? For God's sake, what's changed? You always knew my feelings for you. If you were happy with me, you must have felt the same for me. You did, didn't you? You cared for me?' His hands on her shoulders grew stronger, he seemed about to shake her, then suddenly let her go. ‘So what's happened? Tell me, Elinor. Just tell me!

‘I realized  . . . it came to me  . . .' She stopped, feeling her voice hoarse, and put her hand to her throat. ‘That I don't feel  . . . as I should. If we're to be together.'

‘Don't feel as you should  . . . what you mean is, you don't love me?' He put his hand to his brow. ‘Don't love me as I love you? Is that it?'

‘I thought I did,' she said desperately. ‘I did think so, Stephen.'

‘But you didn't. Maybe you never did.' He laughed shortly. ‘Only thought you did. Is that what you're telling me?'

For long moments, they both stood without speaking, each taking in the reality of loss, until a man walking past called ‘Good evening!' and they had to reply. When he had gone, they moved further into the trees and Stephen's eyes lost their darkness and began to glitter.

‘Why did you suddenly come to this conclusion, though?' he asked roughly. ‘How did it come to you? Out of the blue? Or is there something you haven't told me?'

She was silent, gazing away from him, desolate that he was beginning to guess the one thing she had wanted to keep from him.

‘Have you met someone else?' he pressed. ‘Have you? I always thought I was safe. You said you never met any men. Is there someone, Elinor? You must tell me; you owe it to me.'

‘I know.' She bent her head, tears welling into her eyes. ‘There is someone, then. He isn't my young man, I've only been for one walk with him and I don't know if I'll see ever him again, but  . . .' Her voice trailed off. ‘But he's the one I met.'

‘And you've fallen in love with him.' Stephen gave a long, shuddering sigh. ‘Tell me about him. Let me know about him. Let me know how I've lost.'

‘He's someone I knew at school. Then we met again.'

‘What does he do?'