The Red Cliffs (6 page)

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Authors: Eleanor Farnes

Tags: #Harlequin Romance 1969

BOOK: The Red Cliffs
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Certainly,

he said,

I will walk with you—if that is permitted?

Leaving his car in front of the gate, they began to walk along the drive. It was nearly half a mile, Neil told Lucy, from the cottage to the house, and he used this way out to the narrow lane only when he was going into the town, when it was definitely a short cut. For all other purposes he used the shorter, wider drive on the other side of his house. He was pleasant and forthright, his speech was clear and clipped, and Lucy could see, as plainly as Alison had seen, how different he was in every
way
from Tom. She could see that Tom

s laissez-faire, his indecision and procrastination would irritate this man, as much as Neil

s cool efficiency would infuriate Tom. Lucy did not entirely share Alison

s opinion about Tom. She admitted that he was charming and likeable, but she also thought him lazy and selfish, trading upon other people

s liking for him and their generosity. Now she found that she did not entirely share Alison

s views on Neil either. True, his manner was slightly arrogant and impatient, and he assumed that what he wanted to do was the
important
thing; and true, too, that he might be pleasant at this moment because he wanted information from Lucy; but in spite of this, she felt herself liking him. He was asking questions about their jobs in London, and she guessed that, he was trying to find out how important Alison

s was to her, so, perversely, she began to tell him about her own, which was in any case far more interesting than Alison

s.


And Miss Springett?

he asked at last.


Oh, Alison has a run-of-the-mill job, straightforward secretarial work from nine till five. Mine means a lot to me, but Alison

s just means bread and butter to her. She would always rather be doing something else.


Then why doesn

t she do it?

Lucy saw that he would not waste his life doing
an uncongenial job, but would soon set about doing what he wanted to do.


Because she would go hungry—not enough bread and butter in it, and certainly no jam. Besides, for another thing, she has always had this longing to live in the country. She lived in a rambling old country house when she was very young, and it was the golden period of her life, so that she always wants to get back into the country.


Then you think she won

t sell Combe Russet?


To be honest,

said Lucy, which she almost always was,

I think she

ll have to. She has various ideas about it, but I believe in the end she will have to sell.


Go on being honest,

he said,

and tell me whether you think she will sell it to me.


Well
...
No, I don

t think she will.


Thank you. It

s as well to know what one is up against.

While they walked and talked, Alison and Roger were talking in the house, seated in armchairs on opposite sides of the fire.


It seems,

Alison said,

that there is little love lost between you and Mr. Edgerton.


None at all,

he said cheerfully.

If I were talking to anybody but you, I would say that he hates my guts as much as I hate his.


Why is that?


For one thing, I was completely on Tom

s side, and that meant automatically being at war with Neil; and for another, I had one or two scores of my own to settle with him.


I

m glad that Tom had such a staunch friend.


He needed one, Alison, believe me: Is it all right to call you Alison?


Of course.


And call me Roger. Yes, poor Tom had a lot to put up with from Neil—and he wasn

t the only one
. T
here are a good many people around Combe Russet with a grudge against him.


Why is that?

asked Alison again.


He employs most of the labour around here.
H
e pays well, so that he weans people away from their jobs, which doesn

t endear him to the men who lose them, and so that they endure the conditions of work—which he calls justice but which most people call tyranny.


But why does he employ so many people? I thought he was a landowner, a farmer.


So he is, but he does everything in intensive fashion, going off to Denmark and Holland and the United States to study all the latest methods. He has a big creamery which absorbs most of the milk around here for butter; and a cannery which produces fancy quality fruits and vegetables from stuff he grows on his own place. There is also a preserves factory which you could smell even from here at appropriate times of the year, and the latest thing he

s gone in for is all this frozen stuff. It

s a case of money making money, one of the truest things that was ever said; and he had a good-sized silver spoon in his mouth from the beginning,


You might think people would be glad of so much work in a remote district like this.


But you can

t make money, Alison, without being ruthless. You can

t get where Neil has got without treading on a good many corns.


Riding rough-shod, in fact,

said Alison, remembering that this phrase had occurred to her when she first met Neil.


Exactly.


Poor Tom. I never really understood how his pride must have been humbled to come here to live. He certainly never had a silver spoon: nor the business ability to overcome the initial lack. But he had so much more that was lovable.


He certainly had,

said Roger.

Remember the songs he used to sing to that old zither of his?


Oh yes,

said Alison, and smiled dazzlingly at Roger.

It belonged to my grandmother and Tom
taught himself to play it when he was a small boy.
And my brother Christopher played the clarinet, and I could only master the recorder. We made some ghastly noises.

They laughed together, and each realised at that moment how attractive the other was.


But I

m keeping you,

said Alison,

and you have a date.


Yes,

said Roger, rising.

I

m afraid it

s one I must keep.


Of course,

smiled Alison.


And you

re going back tomorrow,

said Roger.

When will you come down again?


I don

t know. It

s a long drive for winter nights.


Christmas?


No. Lucy insists I go to her family for Christmas

and in any case, it
w
ould be a quiet, lonely Christmas by myself here.


Come as soon as you can,

he said.

And give me that key, and I

ll see that everything here is well looked after.


No, really, why should you put yourself out for me?


Let

s say it

s for Tom

s sake. I will be glad to do it.


Well, it

s very kind of you.

Alison went to find him the second key and handed it over to him. She was letting him out of the front door as Lucy returned, and they stood together waving to him as he mounted his bicycle and rode away.


Quite an eventful evening,

commented Lucy, as they went back into the living room.


Yes,

said Alison absently, obviously deep in thought. Lucy decided not to disturb her, and gathered up the sherry glasses to take them into the kitchen to wash them.

Next morning, Lucy went downstairs early to make tea, carried it up to the twin-bedded room she was sharing with Alison and snuggled back into bed.


It

s a lovely golden morning,

she told Alison, who was struggling from sleep.

Sun breaking through the mist. It

s going to be nice for our drive back to town.

Alison sat up, and sipping the hot tea, she looked out of the wide window to see that it was indeed a glorious, golden morning.


Let

s go for a walk,

she said impulsively,

in the freshness of the day.


What, now?


Now, this minute.


Not me,

said Lucy, snuggling deeper into her bed.

You can go walking over the wet fields, if you like, but I

m staying here for at least another hour. My weekend will have been quite energetic enough, especially after the long drive today, without rushing about the damp countryside so early in the morning.

Alison laughed, and slipped out of bed to wash and dress and get out into the glorious freshness of the morning air. She wore a suit of bulky, homespun tweed of a purplish colour, and eminently sensible shoes, but left her dark hair uncovered to blow in the breeze; and she cut across two of her own fields to reach a very narrow lane she had discovered in previous explorations, which led by many bends and sharp angles to a minor motor road. Alison crossed this and came to the path leading to the headland, wide open to the winds of heaven. The sea stretched before her, the red cliffs were dark in shadow but shone golden red where the sun touched them, and every moment the sun was breaking more strongly through the mist and dispelling it. She seemed to have the whole fresh world to herself. She could feel herself expanding in this atmosphere, feel frustration dying away.

For the good of my immortal spirit, I ought to come and live in this place,

she told herself, and began once more to devise ways of making it possible.

When she had walked on the headland for some time, she started back by the way she had come; and had not been long on the twisting lane before two golden Labradors came running towards her, two beautiful dogs who immediately approached to show their friendliness, hut did not jump up at her. She spoke to them and patted their broad heads, and they wagged strong tails as they turned to walk beside her. Alison knew they must be with somebody and expected every moment to meet their owner, but when Neil Edgerton appeared round the bend of the lane, she was at once both annoyed and confused.


Good morning,

he said. He too was hatless, the sun picking out the red tinge of his fair hair, and he was dressed informally in a green suede golfing jacket and fawn trousers.

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