There Will Come A Stranger (11 page)

“And as for missing her,” said Janet, “we shall be a great deal better off with someone who will do the work she
’
s paid for.”

Vivian rose. “As that is how you feel, the sooner we are gone the better.” Holding out her hand to Valerie, she drew her sister to her feet. “Come! We
’
ll pack to-night and leave as soon as possible to-morrow.”

Valerie
’
s knees shook so that she could hardly walk upstairs, and she was downcast and distressed when they reached her bedroom, but her sister
’
s cheerful common sense helped her to pull herself together and see the whole affair as Vivian did, though in her heart she felt that she would always have a lurking sense of guilt for having left the family to their own devices.

“Now listen!” Vivian told her. “At the party after that christening I went to Surrey for, I got talking to the other godmother. It turned out that she
’
s married to a soldier who
’
s been at the Ministry of Defence, and he
’
s just been posted abroad. She
’
s going with him, so they want to let their flat, furnished. My ears pricked, and I asked for details of the flat, and told her the position, and as it happened she knew just the very thing we
’
re looking for. Her younger sister did a course a year ago at a well-known domestic science college in Kensington. Took her diploma, and it got her a first-rate job in a woman
’
s club in Mayfair
—
good pay, nice girls to work with, charming quarters, plenty of free time. So I spent most of yesterday investigating—saw the domestic science place and interviewed the head and went all over it. I liked it all so much that when they told me there was only one vacancy for next term, I booked it for you right away. Let
’
s begin packing while we talk. I
’
ll help you first with yours.”

They got out Valerie
’
s cases, and Vivian continued as with deft hands she folded frocks and blouses: “So then I went to see the flat, and it
’
s exactly what we want—and only a fourpenny bus ride, or whatever the shortest fare is these days, from your domestic science place! And so I took it for a year with option to renew for another year if I should want to. We can
’
t move in till next week, but we can go to a hotel meanwhile. Pleased
?
”

“How could I
not
be pleased! It
’
s simply marvellous of you to have got it all fixed up so quickly!” Valerie told her warmly.

Five weeks ago—four weeks ago—she would have been thrilled beyond expression at this new turn that events had taken. Even now, she was quietly glad. But still the memory of Rory, haunting and bittersweet, cast a
shadow between herself and happiness.

Her last thought as she fell asleep was that there might be a chance—only a remote one, but none the less a chance—that they might meet in London, vast though London was
...
Yet wouldn
’
t it be better, since he had so soon forgotten her, that they should meet no more?

CHAPTER
NINE

Vivian
’
s
lease of the flat would start in a week
’
s time, so during that time she and Valerie stayed again at the Cranford, filling up what Vivian called “the gaps in our provincial education!” by sightseeing. They visited the Tower, and Kew, and Hampton Court, and various museums and picture galleries, walked in Richmond Park, explored the City and Soho, so the days flew by.

Valerie was determined that Vivian, who was doing so much for her, should not suspect that she was not completely happy. She forced her lips to wear a cheerful smile, and did her best to feign enjoyment of all their activities, so that Vivian at first concluded that she was getting over her unhappiness regarding Rory. But as time went on, catching her sister unawares with wistful eyes and drooping lips, she knew that she was still unhappy, and was not surprised: Valerie
’
s feelings had always gone deep. Silently applauding her for her courage, longing to help, she knew that she must give no hint of sympathy or understanding: some things must be endured, some battles fought alone, and this was one of them.

The time came for them to pack their cases and set out one afternoon to take possession of their new home. The flat was on the third floor in a quiet cul-de-sac off the Brompton Road.

“A long climb, if the lift goes out of order! But apart from that, it
’
s pleasant to be high. Airier, and sunnier too,” said Vivian, and Valerie agreed, determined to be pleased with everything that Vivian had arranged.

Barely had they pressed the bell when the door was opened by Mrs. Coxon, Vivian
’
s co-godmother, who was leasing it to her, and who had waited there to hand it over personally, together with a great deal of helpful information about tradesmen, dustmen, laundries, and so forth. She was a fair, vivacious woman of about thirty-five, with a friendly manner.

“You might like to show your sister round the flat,” she said to Vivian, “while I make the tea
—
I
’
ve got a kettle on, it
’
s nearly boiling. I thought it would be nice to have a cup together before I finally depart!”

Valerie thought the flat was charming. It consisted of a large sunny sitting-room with two big windows, a tiny dining-room whose cherry-coloured chairs and leaf-green table the Coxons themselves had painted, a large bedroom which Valerie insisted must be Vivian
’
s, and a smaller one, but not too small, that would be hers. Both bedrooms had good built-in hanging cupboards and fitted basins, and between them was a little bathroom painted turquoise. Otherwise the whole flat was painted cream. Mrs. Coxon had arranged flowers to welcome them—daffodils and palm in the sitting-room, a tiny posy of mixed spring flowers on the dining table.

“
Couldn
’
t
be nicer!” Valerie murmured. Vivian murmured back, “I knew you
’
d like it!”

They had tea with Mrs. Coxon at a round table drawn up near the fire. As soon as they had finished, she said that she must go, “Though I feel rather awful about leaving you to do the washing up—I still can
’
t realize it isn
’
t-my flat any longer!
...
Your groceries have come—they
’
re on the kitchen table. And I got in the milk and bread you wanted. And I shan
’
t be leaving England till cockcrow on Saturday, so I
’
ve left my number by the telephone in case there
’
s anything you want to ask.”

Sitting by the fire that evening, they discussed how they should divide the housework, for the flat was so small and convenient that they preferred to do it without outside help. Valerie reluctantly agreed that Vivian should do the major share during the week, while she was busy at the domestic science college.

“But at the week-ends I
’
ll do all the cooking,” she insisted, “and of course all the time during my holidays. It
’
s little enough, when you
’
re doing so much for me! I hate you paying for every single thing for me, although I know you don
’
t mind ... I do wish I had just a
little
money of my own! It would make such a difference.”

“Well, if I have my way, you
’
re going to!” Vivian told her. “I do realize that it would be far better for you to feel a little independent. Now listen. As you know, Daddy left Hawthorn Lodge and all its contents to be shared equally by you and me and Hal and Robert, and he left directions in his will that if ever any two of us should want to sell, sold it must be, lock, stock and barrel. So I
’
m going to see a lawyer, with a copy of the will
—
that is, of course, if you agree—and tell him to get on with it.”

“But—oh, I don
’
t know—I should feel so mean, turning them out!”

“It needn
’
t come to that. Harold and Robert are very prosperous these days. The business is extremely flourishing. They can well afford to buy your share and mine at valuation. Then if they liked they could divide the house into two flats
—
or three, if they don
’
t want to go on keeping house together. It could be done quite easily, without any great expense. Then they could let one furnished and do very well out of it. Alternatively, they might pay us rent for our share of it. You must remember, honey, that Daddy wanted you to have your share of the house and furniture in
money, if it ceased to be your home! It
’
s only right that you should have it!”

“Well, if you don
’
t think it would be mean of
us
—
” said Valerie doubtfully.

“If I thought that, I wouldn
’
t be suggesting it. Agreed, then?”

“I suppose so—though I rather wish we
’
d talked of it direct to Hal and Robert. After all, they
are
our brothers!”

“Yes. But in our case it seems to me that one might paraphrase the old rhyme about sons and daughters so that it runs

‘
My sister
’
s my sister all the days of her life
—
My brother
’
s my brother till he gets him a wife!
’

And anyway it
’
s always wiser to do business through a lawyer, even with relatives.”

Valerie said no more, but when next day as they were having lunch Vivian suggested going together in the afternoon to her lawyer, she hesitated, then said, “Would you mind if I don
’
t come
?
”

Vivian was surprised, but said, “Of course not! If you
’
ll put it down in writing that you want to sell your share there
’
s no need for both of us to see him. Not at this stage of the proceedings, anyway.”

“It
’
s such a lovely day, I thought I
’
d take some exercise,” Valerie explained.

“A good idea. It should be lovely in the Park.” But when they parted early in the afternoon, Vivian to take a bus from Knightsbridge to the City, Valerie to take a walk, her footsteps did not turn towards the Park, but in the opposite direction.

Ever since they had arrived in London she had been obsessed by longing to see Rory. Nothing would have been simpler than to ring him up, saying that she and Vivian had come to live in London, and wouldn
’
t he look in one evening? But she told herself it would be folly to do any such thing. Rory
’
s behaviour made it all too clear that though he had enjoyed her company in Switzerland, with
him
it was a case of out of sight, out of mind. Probably he was philandering now with Hilary, or even—agonising thought!—engaged to her. And though the wound that he had dealt her showed no sign of healing, hurt as much as ever, heal it must in time—if she would let it. She must make every effort to keep Rory from intruding into her thoughts.

But on this balmy afternoon of early spring her feelings were too much for all her resolutions. It
’
s no use, she told herself—I can
’
t forget him! And If I could see where he lives, just once, then I could imagine something of his life.

Ebury Street couldn
’
t be very far away, since they
’
were on the same telephone exchange. So, having asked a postman to direct her there, and found that it was within less than a quarter of an hour
’
s walking distance, she set out in the direction he had told her.

The air was mild, the sky was blue, people had discarded hurry with their winter coats, everyone seemed to be strolling leisurely instead of bustling. In Cadogan Square the trees were misted with the first faint green, and on the seats there nannies were to be seen knitting and gossiping while their small charges played together, and the tiniest of all slept in their prams.

Did she imagine it, or could one really smell a faint, elusive scent of rising sap, and sun-warmed earth, and young grass, haunting and disturbing? Oh, how the spring could hurt, when there was winter in one
’
s heart!

Arrived at Ebury Street, she soon saw that the number she was looking for, which she had discovered in the telephone directory, was quite near. At this hour Rory would be at business; there was no risk that he might be at home and happen to look out and see her. Slowly she walked past on the opposite side, gazing at the tall, narrow house with the green door and the number painted clear upon its fanlight, wondering which was Rory
’
s window. Every morning he must come down those three steps on his way to work. Twice daily he must turn the handle of the door.

She walked on to the corner of the block. There a pillar box stood sentinel, a cheerful note of scarlet. Many a time he must have posted letters here! thought Valerie, little dreaming that not so long ago he had gone out at night to post one with her own name on the envelope, while she, all hope abandoned of his coming, with an aching heart believed he had forgotten her.

Crossing the street, she turned back in the direction she had come, this time on the same side as the house where Rory lived. Her heart beat faster. Supposing after all by some strange chance he hadn
’
t gone to business to-day—supposing that he was recovering from a cold, or flu, although somehow one couldn
’
t picture Rory being ill. Supposing he looked out, and saw her—!

Panic seized her at the thought. She longed for it to happen, yet at the same time dreaded it. W
h
at
s
hould she say, if Rory did appear? For if he did, the sight of her would of course remind him of that broken date they
’
d made; he would be horrified that he
’
d forgotten, full of penitent apologies. Should she pretend it hadn
’
t mattered in the least, that she had passed a pleasant evening in some other way when it became evident that after all he wasn
’
t coming? But if she tried, she
’
d never keep it up; it wasn
’
t in her to dissemble. Yet if she let him see how much she
’
d minded, he might guess
...

But after all she had no need to worry. No face looked from any of the windows. Only, as she was passing by, the door was flung wide by a tall, fair young man. Their eyes met briefly and she saw that his were blue and pleasant, though at the moment they had a somewhat abstracted expression. He strode off vigorously up the street ahead of her.

Valerie had no reason to suppose this was the friend with whom Rory shared the flat; for all she
knew, a dozen young men might live in the same building, and this might be any one of them, or a
casual visitor there. Yet somehow she was sure that this was Rory
’
s friend, who must only a few
hours earlier have seen the sunburnt face and laughing mouth and keen bright eyes that haunted her, and heard the voice that echoed in her dreams. If only there had been some pretext for a word with him—if she had tripped, and he had caught her arm to save her from falling, or if she had dropped her bag and he had picked it up, just for a moment she would have felt nearer Rory...

He turned a corner, and by the time that Valerie had reached it he was out of sight.

The walk back to the flat seemed endless, for she felt suddenly exhausted. She had been a
fool
—
a fool to make that senseless pilgrimage to Ebury Street! All she had done had been to hurt
herself, and to no purpose. She vowed that from now on she would be sensible. If only she were
going to start work soon: work was the best distraction in the world. But there were still some
w
eeks to pass before the term began.

Vivian came in soon after she got back to the flat.

“Had a good time?” the elder sister asked, wishing that Valerie didn
’
t look so tired.

“Lovely!” said Valerie, with head held high, and smiling lips.

Valerie had been right. The fair young man she had encountered outside the house where Rory
lived was Barry Hughes. He had been given a week off from the office to catch up on work for
his forthcoming exams, and now, having worked all morning and for the first part of the afternoon, until his brain refused to function any longer, he was going to refresh himself by getting some fresh air and exercise in St. James
’
s Park before he settled down again to work till bedtime.

As he walked he thought with some concern of Rory, who these days was behaving in a manner most unlike himself. His usual high spirits had given place to moods of silent gloom. From being cheerfully good humoured he had become morose, and for the last few days had got up earlier than usual to prowl restlessly about the flat, awaiting the arrival of the first post. On returning in the evening his first action was to run through any letters that had come for him later in the day, a
n
d if he found none, to mutter imprecations.

This morning, when the post had brought him nothing more interesting than a couple of bills, he had burst out to Barry.

“Surely there
’
s been ample time by now for me to have had an answer to that letter I sent to Switzerland to be forwarded!”

“To that girl whose address you lost, you mean? Let
’
s see—how long ago was it, exactly?”

“Eleven days. Three days to get there—three more to come back—perhaps another day to allow for a few hours
’
delay in forwarding it on. That makes a week. And even if she didn
’
t answer it that same day, surely I should have heard by now!”

“I shouldn
’
t worry,” Barry had begun consolingly, and Rory had interrupted irritably, “No—I dare
s
ay you wouldn
’
t! But
I
do. She must think it very rude of me to let her down like that!”

“Is she the sort to take offence?” Barry had asked, and Rory had snapped back, “Not in the very
least! No—Valerie
’
s far too sweet and understanding to be touchy!”

“Possibly she
’
s away from home, and the letter is following her about,” Barry had suggested, but that also met with little favour.

“Very unlikely. She
’
s only just got back after five weeks
’
holiday.”

Rory had left half his breakfast on his plate when he departed for the office. Not like him to lose his appetite—first time I
’
ve known it happen! Barry reflected, striding past the ducks with a preoccupied expression, instead of pausing as he usually did to watch them for a little, grinning at their comical antics. Looked as if Rory had got it really bad this time! In the past he
’
d sought and found the proverbial safety in numbers, so that the ups and downs of his lighthearted philanderings had left him cheerfully unscathed. Too bad that when, by all appearances, he
’
d met a girl at last who really mattered, this should have to happen.

Barry hated seeing the hopeful look his cousin wore when he came in that evening change to one of grim unhappiness when he saw that not a single letter had come for him during the day. He lit a cigarette and flung himself down in a chair, but sprang up a few minutes later and began prowling restlessly about the room, staring at the details of the coloured prints that he had seen a hundred times before, taking up a book to lay it down a moment later, fidgeting with the ashtrays.

Suddenly he said, “I can
’
t stand this! I
’
m going to telephone the Casque d
’
Or for Valerie
’
s home address. Then I can ring her up. I can
’
t imagine why I didn
’
t think of it before!”

“Good idea!” Barry said, though privately he doubted whether the hotel people would pass on the address of one guest to another. Not the kind of thing a good hotel would do in England. Still, they might have different ideas about that kind of
thing in Switzerland. He would have left the room, as by common consent one of them always did when the other used the telephone, but Rory said, “No need to go—there
’
s nothing private about this call and it may take some time to get through.” Ten minutes later Rory was talking to Madame Jourdier herself. Starting in English, presently he broke into French, and then relapsed again into a kind of pidgin English. Barry, listening anxiously, could gather only a vague outline of what was taking place between them, but when at last Rory replaced the receiver he was thankful to see that he looked much relieved.

“Phew! I don
’
t know which is worse—my French, or Madame
’
s English! And to make things worse, we had a rotten line. She wouldn
’
t give me Valerie
’
s address, seemed quite shocked that I should expect her to, said it was unheard of. But she did tell me that my letter had arrived, and that she
’
d sent it on to Valerie only yesterday.”

“
Not till
yesterday
?”

“M
’
m. Apparently she
’
d been away for several days nursing her mother, who had taken suddenly ill, and though the staff could carry on with most things, they weren
’
t up to coping with the office work. So that accounts for the delay.” He grinned at Barry. “I don
’
t mind telling you, old boy, that
’
s taken a big load off my mind!”

Then, as he thought of something else, he frowned. “All the same, this means that Valerie must still be thinking that I
’
m every s
o
rt of skunk.”

Barry said consolingly, “At any rate, she won
’
t go on thinking so much longer.”

Rory was calculating. “Let
’
s see—the letter ought to get to Darlingford the day after to-morrow at the latest. Thursday. If she answers by return I ought to hear from her on Saturday—with luck, on Friday. Three more days. Perhaps four. Oh, well—at any rate I do have more idea of where I stand. Better than watching every post!
D
’
you feel like eating in the restaurant this evening? I seem to have an appetite!”