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superlative engineering qualities of the Rolls-Royce car. 'Is it all
ready to drive away?' she asked after making a second adjustment to
the seat. She had been out in it, just for a few minutes, and she was
now eager to drive it to the Manor and let her husband see it.
'Yes, it's all okay.'
'I'll follow you, Father.'
They stopped at the bungalow for afternoon tea, then Vicky drove
home. Richard was in the forecourt when she arrived; she saw his
eyes darken in a sudden frown after the first initial flash of
puzzlement.
'My car!' she cried, as she jumped out. 'What do you think of it,
Richard? Isn't it a lovely colour?' Her hair was a little untidy, sent
awry by the breeze blowing through the open window of the car; her
cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling with pleasure and with
anticipation. She wanted Richard to say at once that he would like to
try it out. Instead, he just stood for a long moment, staring in silence
at the shining new model which his wife had so proudly parked on the
forecourt.
'Very nice,' he said tautly at last. That was all. Vicky, his indifference
a most efficient damper on her spirits, stood before him, looking up at
a pair of hard cold eyes, a mouth that was compressed into a thin
harsh line. Like a flash another scene came back to her, the scene
when she had told him about the pony. She heard again Richard's
furious words, 'I've endured more than enough of your father's --'
He had stopped; Vicky in her state of bleak unhappiness had not
given this any depth of thought until later, and even then she refrained
from asking Richard what he had meant. Far better to leave it, she
decided, especially as she and Richard were so blissfully happy.
Now, however, as the words came to her, she found no difficulty in
finishing off the sentence which had been cut. At least she knew the
gist of what had been left out, since it tied up with what he had said
initially. Richard had endured more than enough of her father's
flaunting of his wealth. But did that make sense? Her father had never
flaunted his wealth. The pony was not as expensive as it could have
been, so why had Richard taken exception to her having the pony as a
present from her father? Did Richard consider that as Vicky was his
wife then it ought to have been he who had the privilege of buying the
more costly presents for her? Yes, that certainly could be the
explanation, decided Vicky.
'Should Father not have bought this car for me, Richard?'
A cold unfriendly silence and then, 'He has a right to buy you
anything he wants to buy you.'
'The car was ordered even before you and I had met,' she said gently
and, when he maintained his austere silence, 'I thought you would be
as happy as I and want to go for a run in it right away.' Her eyes
misted up; it was fast being borne in upon her that her husband was a
man of moods... and some of those moods could cause her
excruciating pain. 'We'll go for a run in it later,' he promised, and
although his voice had softened slightly, there was now a hint of
bitterness to be detected in it.
The following day Vicky decided to go to Buxton to do some
shopping. She drove in, parked her "car, then, after buying all the
items for which she came, she decided to have a cup of tea, and
walked up the main street to her favourite cafe. No sooner had she sat
down than a voice she recognised hailed her and she turned to look up
into the frank and smiling face of John Bailey.
'So we meet again, Mrs Sherrand! May I join you? I noticed you
haven't ordered yet.'
'Yes, of course.' Vicky indicated the chair opposite to her. 'Join me by
all means.' He sat down, beckoning to the. waitress.
'What are you having. Tea and sticky buns?'
'Tea and scones, please.'
'I expect,' he said when the waitress had gone, 'that you're wondering
why I'm up in these parts again?' Vicky merely nodded and he
continued, 'I've some other land to look at not anywhere near yours,
so don't panic about your view or anything like that.'
'Which land is it?' inquired Vicky curiously.
'Belongs to an old lady by the name of Mrs Sarah Austin. Do you
know her?'
Vicky blinked, shaking her head mechanically. She had heard that
Louisa Austin, Richard's old flame, had an aged aunt somewhere
around these parts.
'I "haven't ever met her,' she answered.
'No? Well, she's getting on in years and has decided to sell out and
make her money over to a niece or was it a nephew? Doesn't matter;
all we're interested in is the land.'
'You still intend to build an estate?'
'That's the idea.'
'There's no work around these parts. It's mainly wild uninhabited
moorland supporting sheep.'
'Then we shall have to build a trading estate.' He glanced up, leaning
back as the waitress came up with the tray. 'It was a funny business
about your land, wasn't it? Some mix-up, apparently, because the land
definitely was for sale, but quite unexpectedly it was withdrawn.
Your husband came into money so the boss told me. I'll bet you're
most relieved, Mrs Sherrand, that your estate's going to remain
intact?'
Vicky said nothing; she was thoughtfully going over the information
which had just been imparted to her. It was plain that Richard had
been under severe financial difficulties, aiid he had put up a large
amount of land for sale. It seemed to Vicky as she pondered the
matter that the sale of the land which formed her father's estate had
been a preliminary to a much larger sale. Had Richard hoped that this
first sale could extricate him from his difficulties? This certainly
seemed a feasible explanation for the sale of that first parcel of land.
Obviously it had not done for Richard's finances what he had hoped,
hence the putting up of more land for sale. Then, most opportunely
indeed, Richard had come into money. Had he inherited it? Vicky
wondered, again fervently wishing that her relationship with her
husband were such that she could ask him to take her into his
confidence. But their relationship in that respect was still not intimate
and Vicky continued to blame herself, since, despite the fact that she
and Richard were blissfully happy together, she still had that
inferiority complex regarding his background and her own. In
consequence, she had never marshalled the courage to question him
too closely about his private affairs.
John Bailey was speaking again, saying something about his
colleague not turning up. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]