These Delights (14 page)

“That’s ridiculous,” he replied sharply. “I’m only trying to say that I think you underrate Vicky more than you should. Why can’t you try to make friends with her? She would be more than willing to meet you half way.”

She began to walk on again.

“Now I think it’s you who are being ridiculous,”
she said. “I’m not aware that I’ve refused to make friends with the girl, as you put it, but I can’t say you give me very much encouragement by this sort of attitude. Men can be extraordinarily stupid at times.”

“Yes,” he agreed rather wearily, “I suppose so.”

They walked in silence for the rest of the way and Diana got into the car and started the engine.

“Well, good night, Luke,” she said, her hands on the wheel. “When you’ve got over this rabbit complex, ring me up and arrange to come and see me without your too-charming cousins. Perhaps you will have recovered your sense of proportion by then.”

She did not expect to be kissed and he did not attempt to do so.

“Good night,” he said gravely. “And thank you for your help.”

“My help?” She looked surprised.

“
With the hay.”

“Oh, I see. You were lucky. It’s starting to rain now.” She ordered her spaniel to sit still, gave Luke a brief smile, and drove away.

Corky had made a special effort over supper that evening, but nobody seemed hungry. Lou had been put to bed earlier with some hot milk and an aspirin, but Vicky and Pauline sat silently side by side, hardly eating anything, mourning Bibi with their sad glances. Even Luke seemed tired and without appetite, and Hester, who had heard the story both from the children and from her brother, was thankful that Diana had decided not to stop.

Corky hovered solicitously, offering breast of cold chicken, and when they shook their heads, bethought him of delicacies he might have in the larder.

“Got it!” he said triumphantly. “What abaht a nice bit of rabbit pie? It won’t take me a jiffy to hot it up.”

“Rabbit pie—oh
no
!” wailed Pauline
, and, bursting
into tears, fled from the table.

“
There! Now what possessed me to say that?” exclaimed Corky, horrified. “I ought to have me bloomin’ head examined!”

He went, m
u
ttering, from the room, and Hester sighed.

“Vicky, do try and eat something, dear,” she said. “These tragedies are very upsetting, I know, but it’s always worse on an empty stomach.
”

Vicky tried to eat.

“Perhaps you think, like Diana, that it is a great fuss over a rabbit,” she said, looking across at Luke.

He gave her a fleeting smile.

“Let’s forget about Diana,” he said. “She doesn’t always understand these things. Would you like to go to Lychcombe fair with me tomorrow, Vicky?”

Her face lit up.

“A
fair—with roundabouts and side-shows? But I thought there was to be a horse show. I don’t think I want to go to another horse show just yet.”

“No, that’s the next day. This is mostly a selling fair, moor ponies and sheep and pigs, but there will be some side-shows, too.”

“That would be fun,” she said.

He pushed back his chair.

“All right, we’ll make a day of it, just the pair of us, shall we? We’ve earned a holiday after all our hard work.”

Hester glanced at him. He was probably only trying to be kind to Vicky, but she had the impression that he wished to escape from something himself.

They sat in the twilight listening to the rain falling on the parched earth. Hester watched her brother who, in his turn, was watching Vicky sitting in the window and looking out at the garden. In the failing light her profile was sharply etched; the shadowed hollows beneath the high, flat cheek-bones, the young, touching line of throat and breast, and the pale hair falling softly to her shoulders. She sat there very still and motionless, her hands folded quietly in her lap, and Luke, from his chair, watched her.

Hester felt the first stirrings of uneasiness. She wondered what had passed between her brother and Diana before she had said good night, and she wished against all good reason that Dennis
Jordan
would write from France recalling his children.

But the morning brought normality. The strange disturbances of yesterday fell into their right perspective, and Hester, at least, felt at ease again. The rain had stopped, and although the day did not look too promising, Vicky set out with Luke for the fair, with high anticipation.

As the day wore on, Luke felt able to relax. The unfamiliar sense of tension which he had experienced since yesterday eased as he watched Vicky’s enjoyment. They ate a huge lunch at the Dog and Duck Inn, and afterwards walked up to the fairground, leaving the car in the inn yard. They listened to the bidding for a while, Luke keeping his eyes open for a likely sow to replace one which had died last week. He had sent a bull calf of his own to be auctioned, and Tom Bowden pushed through the crowd to tell him it had made a good price.

“Doesn’t it seem sad that they have to go to the butcher?” said Vicky. “It must be almost the only unwanted male thing in the world. Female kittens are unwanted, and often puppies, and in China even daughters are unwanted. Poor little bull calf—he is the one symbol of masculine superiority laid low.”

Luke laughed.

“Do you believe, then, Vicky, in the superiority of the male?”

She shook her head violently.

“Oh, no. The male just thinks he’s superior and the female lets him if she’s clever.”

“
You wily little deceiver!”

“Oh, no,” she said seriously. “There are some things in which it is necessary to deceive. Men need bolstering up more than women, don’t they, Tom?”

“Well, a man must keep his self-respect,” Tom replied slowly. “And I reckon that’s much the same as the natural pride. Take that away and what is he? There’s women as does that, and the other kind, like you said, Miss Vicky.”

“Philosophers, both of you!” teased Luke, but for a moment his eyes were thoughtful as they rested on Vicky’s expressive face.

“The roundabouts have started!” she cried as a burst of me
chanical
music mingled with the sounds of cattle lowing
in their pens, the hoarse shoots from the side-show tents, and the steady murmur of the crowd.

Luke laughed.

“Come on, then, we’ll go and join the fun. I said last night this was to be our holiday.”

“Oh, lovely!” she exclaimed, and danced away beside him, clinging to his arm.

They did the fair thoroughly. The rain still held off, and they squelched through the mud from shooting gallery to side-show, laden with toy pandas, china ornaments and coco-nuts which they had won at the booths.

“We’ll take them home for Lou,” Vicky said happily. “He will be specially pleased with that china bulldog with a Union Jack painte
d
on its back. Oh, lo
ok
! A fortuneteller! Luke, we must have our fortunes told before we go.”

They went in separately, and Vicky, who had gone first, waited impatiently for Luke to come out and compare notes.

“What did she tell you,” she d
emanded as soon as he
emerged from the stuffy little tent.

“Oh, the usual thing. A fair woman—she must have caught sight of you—a journey, money, and a mysterious letter.”

“She told me that I would get a ring, and cross the water, and I was to beware of a dark woman,” said Vicky, taking it very seriously. “I don’t know who would give me a ring, do you? Crossing the water—that will be going
back
to France—and the dark woman—that might be Diana, but why should I beware of her? Except that I think perhaps she doesn’t like me very much.”

His smile was tender.

“You mustn’t take
i
t too seriously,” he said.
“
They always have the same line of patter. There wasn’t a dark woman at all in my fortune, so you see she’s got it all a bit wrong.”

“Of course.” She linked an arm through his. “Oh, it’s starting to rain. That will spoil everything for the people. It has been such fun, Luke. Thank you for spending all that money on me.”

“You funny child, you talk as if it had been a fortune! Come along. We might as well go back to the pub and have some tea if it’s going to be wet.”

As they left the fair section, they met Diana and Frank Tregenna coming from the cattle-pens.

“Hullo!” said Luke with surprise. “I didn’t know you were here. I thought you usually avoided fairs.”

She surveyed them with cool eyes. Vicky’s hair was tumbled wildly about her face, and Luke absently scratched the back of his head with the china bulldog.

“So I do,” Diana returned. “Frank wanted to look at some bullocks and inspect the show-ground for tomorrow. You, I see, have been led astray. Poor Luke! Really, Vicky, you shouldn’t expect him to become nursemaid quite to this extent.”

Luke felt Vicky withdraw her arm and move away from him.

“Nothing of the kind,” he said good-naturedly. “It was my idea entirely. This is our holiday, isn’t it, Vicky?”

Vicky made no reply, and Diana said: “Really?” in an amused voice.

“We’re going to get some tea at the pub. Why don’t you both join us?” he suggested.

“I don’t think so, thanks. Mother has some people coming in for drinks later and I must be back in time to change. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“If I can make it,” he replied. “But both Tom and I have been away today, so I’m afraid we’ll have to make up time tomorrow.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“What a pity, then, to waste time on a fair and have to miss the show.”

“I think,” he returned, smiling at Vicky, “it will have been well worth it. Come along, child, and let’s find some tea before we get too wet.”

They had the dining-room to themselves, for the bars were open now and fast filling up. The cheerful buzz of voices came to them through the open hatch with friendly warmth, but something had gone out of the day for both
of
them.
Vicky was silent and polite, and Luke was aware of her withdrawal and vaguely hurt by it
.

“Cold?” he asked as he saw her shiver.

“No, just a goose walking over my grave,” she replied.

“What’s depressed you? You were as merry as a grig at the fair.”

“She wasn’t pleased.”

“Who? Diana? Why on earth should she mind?”

“She wasn’t pleased. She thought we looked like tramps
—
no, trippers.”

“Well, you know, Diana’s never had the knack of enjoying herself in this sort of way. We can’t all like the same things.”

“No.”

She stretched out a hand across the table to him, then hastily withdrew it
.

“Why did you do that?” he asked. “Oh, yes, and I’ve a bone to pick with you, young woman. What’s happened to those honest good night hugs of yours of late? I’ve missed them.”

She was silent for a moment, then said flatly:

“She says I’m too old to hang round your neck like a schoolgirl.”

“Who does?”

“Diana. She says no man likes to be made a fool of in public. I hope I haven’t embarrassed you, Luke. I don’t always remember.”

He knew a wave of inexplicable anger against Diana, and before he could stop himself he had said urgently: “Don’t listen to her, Vicky. Don’t let her spoil you with her own coldness.” He saw her eyes widen, and said more quietly: “Diana can’t help being what she is—she’s afraid of emotion and spontaneity, and it’s not perhaps her fault. But don’t let her make you self
-
conscious, my
darling
child. It’s that very quality of warmth and naturalness in you that I love so much. Never listen to other
people, Vicki—go on just being yourself. I couldn’t bear it if you ceased being completely natural with me.”

“Because with Diana you cannot be natural yourself?” she said gently.

“Perhaps. We’ll not talk of Diana. She has nothing to do with you and me.”

She lowered her eyes.

“No. And in a little while I will go back to France like the fortune-teller said and then I will not irritate her any more.”

His firm hand closed over one of hers.

“But when you do go
back
to France, that won’t be the end, you know. I’m not going to lose my little cousin now I’ve found her. You’ll come back.”

“I will never come back,” she said bleakly, and he laughed.

“Of course you will. You and Pauline and Lou, and, perhaps, another Bibi, and you’ll all have grown so much by next summer that I won’t recognize you.”

“I will not grow any more,
”
she said politely. “By
next
summer I will be twenty.”

He looked at her with surprise.

“Heavens! So you will! Well, let’s not bother about next summer. Let’s just enjoy this one.”

“Yes,” she said, and her eyes filled with sudden
tears.
“Oh, yes, dear Luke, we will enjoy this one.”

He gave her a hand a quick squeeze, then began to collect their fairings together.

“Silly child, of course we will. Now I
think
we’d better be getting
back
. The rain’s stopped and I
can
chop some wood before supper. Come along.”