There Will Come A Stranger (14 page)

“Huh! Good thing I met you, then! I
’
m getting up a dance on Monday in the Coronation Hall, to try and raise a bit of money for our local R.S.P.C.A. funds. Ought to be a good show—got that band from Selkirk, and the Clydesmuirs are in Monte Carlo so they
’
ve very kindly said their cook can do the buffet, and you know what
that
means! Tickets are only fifteen bob, and that includes a buffet supper, though you have to buy your own drinks, of course. The very thing for you, my boy, with visitors to entertain!” Out of his pocket he pulled a bunch of yellow tickets, held together by an elastic band. “Want yours now? No need to pay me if you haven
’
t got the money on you now!”

John took out his note case, “Give me half a dozen.”

Later, over lunch, recounting all that they had done to Susan, the matter of the dance cropped up. “He
’
s a most awfully nice old boy,” John explained to Vivian and Valerie, “always helping every good cause, running Punch and Judy at the Church Fete, playing a hurdy-gurdy in the streets to get a little extra for the Guides hut—he
’
ll turn a hand to anything. So we all rally round, of course, when he gets up something of his own. He does it about once a year. He
’
s even crazier than most of us about animals, and the R.S.P.C.A. is the apple of his eye. No need to feel we must go to this dance of his, though—having bought the tickets, honour is satisfied!”

Vivian realized that he was saying this on her account, remembering that in Switzerland she had not cared to dance, because the last time she had danced had been with Pete, and to revive the memory of it had been something that she did not choose to face. She said, “If all the people who buy tickets stay at home, the dance will be a flop. And if that happens poor old Mr. Ogilvie will be horribly disappointed, even if he does make money over it! Do let
’
s go, and help to make it a success for him!”

John looked at her. “You
’
re sure that
’
s how you feel about it?”

Vivian said quietly, “Quite sure!”

For a moment, as their eyes met, it was as though they were alone together, in a sense that had not happened since they were in Switzerland.

Then Susan said, “Yes—do let
’
s go, John! Harry will be here, and he was staying till Tuesday morning anyway, to drive us back with him. It would be an opportunity to meet all sorts of people that I haven
’
t seen for ages! And we might get Jock Henderson, or Peter Douglas, to make us even numbers.”

John looked at his other guest. “How does Valerie feel about it?”

Valerie had no feelings on the matter either way. She said she would enjoy it, if the others felt like going.

So John telephoned to Peter Douglas, and it was settled that he should come to dinner at Bieldside on Monday evening, and they would all go on together to the dance.

Luckily the sisters, though they had supposed there would be little occasion for a dance frock, had agreed that it would be as well for each of them to bring one, “just in case.” Valerie had packed her white lace. The misty grey that she had worn through the despairing hours when she had waited all in vain for Rory was hung away at the back of her cupboard, hidden beneath a sheet: she could not bear to see it, and far less to wear it.

Vivian
’
s was one that she had bought in one of New York
’
s most exclusive stores. It was of net, in a strange, deep, glowing shade of green, with flowing bouffant skirt. The colour was the most becoming that she could have chosen, bringing out the green lights in her hazel eyes, stressing the pearly whiteness of her arms and neck and shoulders, deepening the rich brown of her satiny curls. The way she wore her hair brushed up revealed the lovely lines of neck and shoulder now that they were uncovered, save for the fragile folds of tulle that partly swathed her shoulders. When she was dressed she looked a long time at her reflection. She looked lovely, and she knew it, and was glad: this would be the first time John had seen her in an evening dress. Yet with her happiness a sense of guilt was mingled, tarnishing its radiance with the nagging
consciousness
of disloyalty to Pete.

Turing from her mirror, she took up the photograph that stood, as always, by her bed.

“But I
do
love you still—I do, my dear—you know I do!” she whispered to the pictured face that smiled back at her. “It
’
s just that—oh, I don
’
t
know
—I don
’
t know what
’
s happening to me—”

There was no sign of her inner turmoil when presently she and Valerie went down to join the others; no trace, in the younger sister
’
s smiling face, of the pain that she had felt on putting on the dress that she had worn on happy evenings when she danced with Rory.

They found the others in the room that had been called the drawing-room by Ainslies of an older generation. John and Susan, searching for a name for it that sounded less archaic, had found none that seemed to fit it better, so the drawing-room it had remained. It was a peaceful, friendly place. Blue damask curtains and flowered chintzes, all a trifle faded, made a gentle harmony of colour. Pastels of Victorian Ainslie children, and another of two sisters, arms entwined round one another
’
s waists, sleek ringlets framing innocent oval faces, hung upon the creamy walls. Gleaming mahogany gave back the bright reflection of the dancing firelight.

Peter Douglas had already arrived. He was a pleasant-looking young man of about thirty, who farmed a few miles up the valley and was weather-beaten from a life spent in dipping sheep, driving tractors, working in the hayfield and the harvest. He was at first inclined to shyness on meeting the two pretty girls from London, for strangers seldom came his way. But their friendliness, as they all enjoyed a glass of sherry round the fire, soon made him feel at home with them, and dinner was a cheerful meal.

They lingered for a little over coffee, then set out, three of them in John
’
s car, three in Peter
’
s, for the Coronation Hall in Muirkirk.

V
ivian and Valerie and Susan, as they left the cloakroom, found the three men waiting for them by the door of the big room where dancing was already in full swing. The room was crowded; Mr. Ogilvie, chatting with a few members of the older generation who had turned up to join the fun, was beaming; evidently he was going to make a lot of money for the cause so near his heart.

Susan danced away with Harry. Peter said to Valerie, “May I have this dance?”

John smiled down into Vivian
’
s eyes.

“Will you dance this with me? And many more, I hope!”

So for the first time she felt his arm about her waist, the gentle guidance of his hand against her back, the muscles of his arm wiry and strong beneath her left hand.

The band from Selkirk was playing an old waltz: “Some day I
’
ll find you
...
It seemed to Vivian that the lilting music had woven its haunting rhythm about the two of them, so that although they were surrounded by a throng of other dancers, she felt more alone with John than she had done at any time since the days in Switzerland when they had been so much together. John felt it too. He murmured, bending his head so that his lips were near her ear, “This is the first time since you came here that I
’
ve had you to myself.”

Her eyes were lowered so that he could only see the creamy crescents of her lids, the dark fan of her lashes on the smooth curve of her cheek. She spoke so softly that he barely caught her answering murmur: “Yes
...
I
’
ve wondered
...
”

John
’
s arm took her in a tighter grip as urgently he asked her, “Wondered, have you? Didn
’
t you
understand
—
?”

She had said more than she intended. Fearful of betraying herself, she made no answer.

John said, “But my darling, don
’
t you see
—
?
If I allowed myself to be alone with you, I
’
d say too much. I
’
d make it difficult for you, staying in my house, if you should feel that you
’
re not ready yet for what I have to say to you.”

Her “Yes ... I see ... I didn
’
t understand
...”
was no more than a whisper, but he heard it.

“I
’
ll give you a few days to yourself when you go home, and then I
’
ll come to you in London for your answer. The very last thing that I want to do is hurry you—I
’
ll give you all the time you want. Only I think the time has come to get things straightened out between us.”

The music ended as he spoke, but before the clapping for an encore could begin the pianist had risen and was saying through the microphone, “Now, ladies and gentlemen, we want you all to make two big circles for the Paul Jones. Ladies in the centre, please, and gentlemen outside!” It was a way he had of breaking the ice and getting people to mix together at the onset of the evening. He must be obeyed. One had to fall in with the party spirit!

John joined the outer circle that the men were forming. Vivian found one hand clasped by Susan, the other by a jolly dark girl with merry brown eyes. The band struck up: she danced away, dazed by the force of her emotions and bewildered by their conflict.

She knew now how it was with John. Now it was only of herself she was uncertain: only with herself and her own heart that she must contend.

Valerie was making a gallant effort to enjoy the evening, or if she could not enjoy it, at least to appear to do so, for one couldn
’
t be a kill joy! Time and again, as her mind strayed to think of Rory, she switched it resolutely to the present, forced her lips to smile, made herself play her part in the gay talk and laughter round the dinner table. So well did she act that even Vivian was deceived into believing her as cheerful as she seemed and thought, relieved, that coming here had been the best thing that they could have done: evidently the change of scene had acted as she had hoped, and Valerie was beginning to forget her heartache over Rory.

Now, as she danced with Peter Douglas, Valerie compelled herself to concentrate on what he said to her, and automatically made the right responses, with such success that he decided she was quite the most attractive girl he
’
d met this month of Sundays, and hoped that she would come again to stay at Bieldside.

“If you come again to stay with John, I hope he
’
ll bring you to lunch or have tea or something at Ardmiddle, where I live,” he told her. “It
’
s a bit rough and ready, like most bachelor establishments, but the cattleman
’
s wife comes in to cook for me and turns out quite a decent meal. Her scones are famous far and wide—she always gets a prize for them at every show.”

Valerie said that she would love to come if ever she came back to Muirkirk. “Do you go in for any special breed of cattle? (
I
wonder where Rory is now ... I wonder if
he
’
s
at a dance, too, dancing perhaps with Hilary
...
)

“Ayrshires,” Peter told her. “It
’
s a mixed farm
—
I have a bit of everything. Sheep, and a few pigs, and of course poultry.”

“That must be
very
interesting!”
(Perhaps he
’
s sitting out with her in some secluded corner, looking into her eyes as once he looked into mine
...
Holding her against his heart as once he held me
...
Kissing her as he once kissed me
...
)

The music ceased. The pianist was speaking. “
...
Ladies in the centre, please, and gentlemen outside!”

Peter said as he released her, “May I have the next dance but one
?
”

She nodded her consent as she was caught up in the chain of laughing girls and swept away from him.

The first pause in the music brought her opposite Harry. After that she danced with a dark, burly man who said he came from Jedburgh, followed by a fair lad on leave from Malta, then by a cousin of John
’
s, whom she had met before. She had danced half-way round the room with him when once more the music changed, and .it was time to part and join again in circles.