The Tender Flame (15 page)

If she hadn't been wised up she wouldn't have noticed the lift of his eyebrows, it was so slight. She saw because she was searching his face for some such reaction.

‘You went, of course,' he said ever so casually.

‘Yes. I didn't see any objection.'

‘What objection could there be? I'm glad you had a nice time. Was Stephanie on her best behaviour?'

‘Well,' she said wrinkling her nose, ‘let's say second best behaviour.'

She didn't mention the incident concerning Tatty Bear and Mrs. Grant's spectacles, because it sounded too much like tale-bearing, and in any case it was too close for comfort to the revelation.

Although Jan had pointed out an interesting programme on television, when he'd finished his meal David returned to The Retreat. He'd brought some work home with him that he must do.

Having
washed the dishes and finished straightening round, Jan went up to check on Stephanie. She popped her head round the door and gulped. There was something about the bed. It was too flat.

She flicked on the light and advanced into the room. She half expected Stephanie to jump out at her from the side of the dressing table or from behind the wardrobe. Nothing happened. Jan looked at the empty bed and went flying down the stairs and across to The Retreat.

She hammered on the door. David opened it to her, looking puzzled no doubt by the urgency of her knock, then concerned by the agitation on her face.

‘Get your breath back. Then tell me slowly what's happened.'

‘Stephanie's gone,' she gasped. ‘I went up to her bedroom to see that she was all right, and she's not there.'

‘Not there?' A look of disbelief crossed his face. ‘Oh no! The little idiot.'

‘You look as though you know where she's gone. Do you?'

‘I'm not positive, but I think she's gone into the woods.'

‘The woods. What for?' Jan questioned because her brain wasn't reasoning properly.

‘To see the deer. She asked me if I'd take her and I said no because it was too late for her to be up.' So that's what Stephanie had
been
pestering David about. ‘She must have decided to go by herself. I've no notion of how she got the idea of going on a deer watch.'

‘I'm afraid I have. Palmer was telling her about the two deer he'd seen. She asked him to take her and he told her to ask—' Barely perceptible pause, because Palmer had said ‘ask your daddy'—‘you.'

‘And I said no, so she's gone on her own.'

‘Not quite on her own. She's got her accomplice in crime with her, dear old Tatty Bear.'

David was already pushing his arms into his anorak.

‘Wait for me,' said Jan. ‘I'll just put some shoes on.'

‘You'll need your raincoat, and pick up a waterproof for Stephanie. The rain can't hold off much longer.'

It didn't. They weren't long out of the door and still not in sight of the black dense mass of the woods when the sky opened and the rain came down on them like driving spears. By the time they reached the woods, her toes felt waterlogged even though she was wearing sturdy walking shoes.

The overhanging branches slapped wetly against her face, the undergrowth put out feelers to trip her up. The light from the torch, which David had the foresight to bring, served the useful purpose of penetrating the path, but made everything look so much creepier.

‘Poor
little Stephanie. Wherever she is, she must be scared out of her mind.'

‘Not Steph. She'll think she's having a huge adventure.'

‘If she can think. If she hasn't fallen and knocked herself unconscious. She's so little. She could die of exposure.'

‘Do you have a projector in your mind that switches on the horror stuff automatically? Instead of the H for horror, can we have a nice cosy U certificate?'

‘You mean children's stuff, like Hansel and Gretel? Or what about
The Hobbit
. Tolkien can be relied upon for lifting a few hairs off the back of your neck.'

‘Listen!' David commanded, silencing her.

She listened, but only heard the eerie moans and grunts and inhuman screams and screeches of the creatures of the forest. Perhaps it was the song they sang nightly, or perhaps they were objecting to the intrusion of two marauding strangers in their private little world.

‘I was mistaken,' said David. ‘Come on.'

They seemed to plunge on for ever, endlessly calling Stephanie's name. The trees banded together to take on weird shapes. Jan's imagination was working overtime and disembodied images were on the prowl in her mind. She told herself sternly that it was all in the mind, but kept an eye open for the odd spectral horse or headless huntsman.

She
tripped and made a grab for David's hand. Even when she'd steadied her step, he did not deprive her of this comfort, and the warm cling of his fingers chased the ghosts away.

They found Stephanie hovering within the protective range of a large—and now oddly friendly—old tree. She was trembly lipped, but mutinous.

‘I didn't see the deer. They didn't come and I waited and waited. And I was frightened that something nasty was going to get me.'

‘In this friendly old wood?' Jan said, her voice squeaky with relief. ‘There's nothing to be frightened of here. But you must promise never to go off on your own again. If we hadn't found you, you would have been very cold and wet and hungry by breakfast time.'

It was impossible to chide her seriously when all she wanted to do was hug and comfort her.

David was being very resolute and practical. ‘If you do anything like this ever again, young lady, you can expect to be severely smacked.' He wrapped her in the waterproof he'd instructed Jan to bring along, but as it was a raincoat Stephanie was growing out of fast, it was hardly sufficient for the job. Without a word he took off his own anorak and snuggled her into it for added warmth, then lifted her into his arms and carried her all the way home.

Jan looked at the clock, expecting it to be
hours
later. Impossible to believe, but slightly less than three quarters of an hour had elapsed between discovering that Stephanie was missing and now.

‘Give her a warm bath, something hot to drink, and get her straight to bed. Do the same for yourself,' David instructed.

Jan's chin went up in a nod of agreement, and froze there. Before it had chance to come down again, Stephanie let out a scream that was more unnerving than anything she had heard in the woods, and would have sent a few of the woodland creatures scampering for safety.

The noise was still in her throat as Jan soothed: ‘Everything's all right now, pet. You're home and safe, and soon you'll be snuggled up in bed.'

‘Tatty Bear,' Stephanie sobbed bitterly. ‘I left him under that tree.'

Two pairs of eyes looked at David, one waterlogged, the other expectant.

‘No!' he said angrily. ‘I'm drenched to the skin.' Having given Stephanie his anorak, that was no exaggeration. ‘I will not turn out again to rescue a toy bear.'

Stephanie started sobbing and screaming again, more bitterly than before. Jan wrapped her arms round the heartbroken child, without letting her relentless gaze slip from David's face.

‘You're being unreasonable, Jan. It's
inhuman
of you to ask it of me. Stop that silly crying, Steph. I'll go in the morning and look. I'll buy you another bear, a bigger, nicer one.'

Stephanie kept on howling; Jan kept on looking.

‘Damn the pair of you, no!'

‘Then I'll go,' Jan said very quietly.

His eyes flew to the ceiling in exasperation. ‘That blasted bear is the bane of my life. Women!' Shouting and spluttering he hauled his anorak back on over his wet shirt. He slammed out of the door, almost swinging it off its hinges, and shot off in the direction of the woods.

CHAPTER SIX

Things settled back to normal. Tatty Bear was awarded a medal for being such a brave little bear. He'd come out of his ordeal practically unscathed and only a little tattier than before.

Stephanie was back at play-school, quite happy to renew the acquaintance of her little friends after an intial bout of grumbling. David was more deeply immersed in his work than ever. He brought home masses of paperwork, and the light was often on in The Retreat until the small hours of the morning. David obviously got immense job satisfaction from what he was doing, but Jan worried that he
might
be overdoing it a bit. She shrank from mentioning this, because knowing David he would most likely tell her to mind her own business.

He was very guarded about what he considered to be his business. Without prying it was evident that the desk was kept locked and the key, which had always lived in the lock, was now missing. He had once accused her of riffling through papers that were no concern of hers. She had assured him that she hadn't, and was hurt by the significance of the missing key. Did he think the temptation to look might be too great, and that one day she would do more than lovingly caress the beautiful little desk with a soft duster? She never would have, even if she hadn't already discovered the desk's secret, that David was not Stephanie's father. Stephanie's birth certificate, which was presumably in the desk, wouldn't tell her anything. As Annabel's husband, surely David would automatically have been registered as Stephanie's father? But there might be letters or something else that gave relevant information.

Even though she was deeply grieved that David thought it necessary to keep the secret from her, she admired him for wanting to protect Stephanie. Perhaps he'd done it at first for love of Annabel. She knew now that when he came to Willowbridge after Annabel's death, the child had meant nothing to him and
was
virtually a stranger. But the little stranger, with her mischievous and loving ways, had crept into his heart and now whatever he did was for Stephanie herself. She knew that if anyone tried to take Stephanie from him, he'd fight tooth and nail to keep her. Where had that thought come from? On paper David was officially her father. Nobody could take her from him.

She finished the dusting and let herself out. As she closed the door of The Retreat, it occurred to her that she hadn't followed up her intention of going into Didsford and buying a name plaque. Why not go now? She didn't have to collect Stephanie from play-school until this afternoon. And she could buy what she needed for the evening meal just as easily in Didsford. Easier, in fact, because there was a bigger selection of shops there than in Willowbridge.

She managed to catch the bus by the skin of her teeth. It was a soft and golden summer day, not the stifling heat of last week that had presaged that bad storm, and a playful little breeze lifted the ends of her hair and her spirits.

She decided that the plaque must be her first mission. The shop was at the bottom of the high street. She was just a little disappointed that it wasn't a wrap and carry service. She chose the shape of the plaque she wanted and the type of lettering from the
models
on display, and had to be happy with the promise of an early delivery.

The requirements of a meal became her next priority. When the various packages were stored in her capacious shopper, the rest of the time available was her own, and she used it in pleasant window browsing.

She was looking thoughtfully at a richly patterned purple and black dress when a voice in her ear said: ‘Not your style,
chérie.
You're not sultry and slinky.'

The attractively accented voice was unmistakable. Jan swung round with a smile on her lips to greet the petite French girl, the proprietress of Danielle's Den whose husky voice had entertained so charmingly, and who had left such a deep impression on her.

The hellos exchanged, Jan said: ‘What is my style?'

‘Something light and floaty and youthfully feminine.'

‘Like me,' Jan said, wrinkling her nose in mild displeasure.

Danielle remonstrated gently: ‘Not at all. I don't think you are light and floaty. I should say some down-to-earth thinking goes on in that head of yours. But I'm prepared to reserve judgement until I know you better. Do you have to dash, or can you spare the time for a coffee? There's a little café round the corner that is rather nice.'

‘I've got an hour before my bus goes.'

‘
Magnifique.
An hour is ample time to find out how David is getting on.'

They were settled in the café, with coffee in front of them, when Danielle said without preamble: ‘And now I want you to tell me if David has got over all the terrible things that Annabel did to him.'

Nobody had ever before suggested that Annabel had ever done anything terrible to David. David was the one who had behaved abominably towards Annabel. David's godmother had said that he could have stopped the gossip. Her very words had been, ‘With a name like his, you'd think he'd stone to death the Goliath of Local Opinion that's damning him.' Jan had replied that perhaps he hadn't the right stone. Linda had assured her that he had. But even Linda, who was presumably in knowledge of the facts, had never openly called Annabel.

‘Have you lost your tongue,
chérie
, or is the question too difficult to answer? I know David is a complex man to understand, but surely it is apparent to you whether or not he is happy?'

‘I haven't lost my tongue. My wits went astray for a while, but I'm in control now.'

‘I'm afraid my derogatory remark about Annabel took you by surprise.'

‘Yes. Nobody has ever breathed a bad word against Annabel. Everybody remembers her for her bravery, her beauty, and her sweet, uncomplaining nature.'

Now
she came to think about it, she didn't know why Danielle's scathing opinion of Annabel should come as such a big surprise. Danielle was part of the tragic tangle. She had been engaged to Stephen, she must have been engaged to him at the same time as he was having an affair with Annabel. She might even know that Stephanie was Stephen's child and not David's. Her memory of Annabel would be bitter.