A Friend of the Family (14 page)

They kissed for a long moment and at last George let her go.

‘I need a drink,' he said. ‘I haven't got the stamina for this sort of thing any more. Would you like one?'

‘Yes please. Some wine, please. It's in the fridge. And when you come back I've got something else to tell you, so don't be long.'

When he'd disappeared into the house, with Jessie trotting hopefully at his heels, Thea sighed a sigh of pure happiness and stretched long and mightily. All the feelings of fear, loneliness and depression seemed to slip away from her and she felt whole and happy. Thank God. It was all over and they could start again with no shadow between them. A sentence slipped into her mind.
Heaviness may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning
. Thea sent up a prayer of thankfulness and prepared to tell George her exciting news.

 

Fourteen

 

THE CAR BREASTED THE
hill, glided into the verge and stopped.

The young man in the car behind overtook contemptuously, driving in that particular way that some locals do during the holiday season, indicating that they are not tourists but part of the indigenous population. These people gesture impatiently when they are held up by cars from which families hang, oohing and aahing at the sight of moorland ponies or sheep with their young; delight in showing their prowess in backing up in difficult situations; clasp their heads in well-simulated despair when the town-bred visitor, in his shiny new car, hesitates in terror when faced with pulling in close to a thorny hedge or dry-stone wall to let a coach through. This particular young man had been trailing in Felicity's wake for some time unaware, since Felicity had bought her car upcountry and was indeed driving slowly to show David the sights, that he was following someone more local even than himself. Felicity had been born and bred near Tavistock, the young man had moved down from the Midlands only seven years before. He swept past them with a derisory hoot and then slowed down a little, for even he was not yet immune to the panorama that spread itself before him.

Felicity and David didn't even hear him. Rolling countryside stretched away to the sea over to the south beyond Plymouth, into the deep, thickly wooded Tamar valley and down into Cornwall to the high tors of Bodmin Moor which dominated the skyline where bulky white clouds massed. It was very hot. The sheep lay close under the
dry-stone walls in an effort to find some shade as the moor shimmered and glittered and ponies gathered under the shelter of the stunted thorn trees. High above, a lark was singing in the still air, and David realised that he was holding his breath.

‘Terrific,' he murmured. ‘It has everything, this county, hasn't it? The sea, the little fields and lanes and these great hills. What contrasts! The lushness of the valleys and the starkness of these moors. Magnificent. And the weather, never the same for two days running. I can't thank you enough, Felicity, for showing me all this.' He turned towards her, obviously moved, and gestured futilely. ‘It's too much to put into words.'

As always she was delighted by his reaction. Mark had preferred the bright lights to rural pleasures and George never seemed to notice anything at all unless some repair or correction was needed to improve it.

‘I'm glad.' She smiled at him. ‘Of course, I've known and loved it all my life but you never take it for granted somehow. It's so nice to have someone to share it with.' And feeling that she might be getting a little emotional, she added, ‘What about some coffee?'

It was the first whole day that they were to spend together on the moor and Felicity had packed a picnic.

‘Felicity!' David's tone was reproachful. ‘Do I see a flask? I thought that flask coffee was “abominable”!'

‘So it is,' she remarked, unmoved. ‘Usually. Mine's special!'

‘I believe you.' David turned back to the view as Felicity manipulated flasks and cups. ‘What a scene! I envy you having this on your doorstep. Thanks.' He took the china mug and sipped appreciatively. ‘You're right. It's very special.'

They laughed a little and sat in companionable silence, drinking the coffee and letting their eyes wander over the spectacle before them. The sun had not yet reached the height of middle day when its light would absorb the mysterious shadows and the moor would be exposed to its pitiless glare that emphasised the inhospitable aspects of its landscape.

‘You know,' began Felicity, screwing the top on to a Thermos, ‘I've been thinking. Wouldn't it be more sensible if you were to stay overnight while you're getting your material or portfolio or whatever you call it? It seems so silly to spend all that time driving to and fro. The moor is absolutely at its best early and late and we could really take advantage of it.'

David, hearing warning bells for the first time, gazed determinedly at Devon. Devon gazed back. ‘It's a most generous offer . . . 'he began and knew at once that he had exhibited signs of weakness. He should have begun with a positive word like ‘impossible' for Felicity was already saying things like ‘not generous at all . . . would love to have you . . . felt rather lonely of late . . . '

‘So difficult,' he murmured, ‘don't want to hurt feelings, d'you see . . . ?'

‘But you said yourself that your friend doesn't mind what you do as long as you enjoy yourself and that he's too busy setting up to work from home to be able to take you around himself. Not,' she added, with a short laugh, ‘that he'd know where to take you if he's a newcomer.' For a brief second she was at one with the young man in the car. ‘What did you say your friend does?'

‘Oh, he's a computer programmer.' David evaded the complexities of Tim's career. ‘Look. I'll tell you what. Let me put it to him. But you know what people are—invite you down, ignore you, but get hurt if you pal up with someone else. Don't you find human nature amazing?'

If Felicity did she had no intention of being sidetracked by a discussion about it.

‘See what you can do. It would be such fun.' She smiled at him pleadingly and he smiled back at her, feeling a twinge of guilt. ‘And it would give you plenty of time to finish your paintings of the cottage. Promise you'll try? Now.' Felicity repacked the hamper, started the car and let in the clutch. ‘I'm going to show you Burr ator Reservoir and then we'll find a cool shady place for lunch.'

When they arrived back in the early evening, having gone farther
than they had intended, David discovered the battery on his car to be as flat as a pancake.

‘I left the headlights on,' he exclaimed in despair. ‘There was a thick fog over the top this morning and I needed my lights. Forgot to turn them off, d'you see? What a fool I am. Haven't got any jump leads, have you?'

Felicity, seeing events playing into her hands, denied any knowledge of jump leads and insisted that the local garage would be shut. Since she had no near neighbours to come to their assistance the solution was plain. David must stay the night. It was no trouble, she told him, she even had spare pyjamas and shaving-gear which had been her husband's (actually George's from the pre-Thea era) and she always kept several new toothbrushes in case of emergency.

David admitted defeat and followed her into the house. She showed him where the telephone was so that he could phone his friend and went away to resurrect George's proofs of passion. David found his little book, looked up Tim's number and dialled.

‘Hello?' He tried to speak quietly. ‘Is that you, Tim?'

‘Hello, who . . . oh, David!' Tim's voice rang out suddenly in his ear. ‘Thank God you've phoned. Look, a crisis has blown up here and I've got to catch the next flight out to the States. We didn't want to both disappear and let you come home to an empty house but I'd like Miranda to come with me if that's OK by you. You're well occupied at the moment, aren't you? It's only a very quick dash. I'll put you on to Mirry, OK?'

David could hear his voice talking to Miranda and then she was on the line.

‘Hi, Daddy, thank goodness! Listen, Tim's boss phoned from the States, some crisis with the computer programme or something. He's got to get the next flight out. When will you get here?'

‘I can't get there,' said David through lightly gritted teeth. ‘I'm stuck. Car's broken down and I'm right out in the wilds.'

‘Well, what will you do? Where are you phoning from? Are you at Felicity's?'

Miranda's clear voice had a carrying quality and David cocked a nervous eye at the ceiling. Felicity could be heard scurrying to and fro above like Samuel Whiskers.

‘Yes, I am. I'm going to have to stay the night. Does Tim have to go?'

‘Absolutely! He's still under contract and it's all terribly hush-hush. Hang on . . . ' He could hear them conferring in the background. ‘Tim says that we shall be away no more than forty-eight hours, so can you hold the fort?'

‘Forty . . . Miranda!' David's howl of anguish was louder than he intended and, turning, he was brought face to face with Felicity who, flushed with her recent exertions, was eyeing him curiously.

‘Ha ha.' He attempted a light laugh and grimaced at her, putting his hand over the mouthpiece and whispering, ‘Bit of a drama going on.' She passed on into the kitchen.

‘Are you still there, Daddy? Look, Tim wants me to go with him. You don't mind, do you? Thank goodness you telephoned. I wouldn't have just gone and left you a note or something but I'd packed just in case you turned up in time. There's plenty of food. You'll manage, won't you? See you, then. Take care. Tim's shouting at me to hurry. We've got to get that flight. ‘Bve, then.'

The line went dead and David stood for a moment, breathing heavily through his nose. After a moment he went into the kitchen to break the news to Felicitv.

Felicity bore it with remarkable equanimity. She already had a low opinion of David's friend—she had no idea that Tim was Thea's cousin—and this merely confirmed her opinion of him as a thoughtless, selfish young man. To rush off without warning, leaving a guest to fend for himself, was just what was to be expected from such a person. However, it gave her the excellent opportunity to press her case further and persuade David to stop for more than just one night. Once he'd calmed down and had a drink, he began to see the advantages of spending a few days at the longhouse although he felt a little apprehensive. However, Felicity was obviously so delighted to have him there that, as the evening wore on, David found her pleasure
contagious and decided that the best thing was to relax and simply enjoy it. This was quite in tune with his temperament and they ate their supper very happily, planning an early start in the morning.

For Felicity the next week was idyllic. David was painting as he hadn't painted for years and he was overjoyed. For him, his work, the moor, Felicity's love, were all woven together in one great tapestry and he didn't separate one strand or colour from another. One evening, delighted with what he had done that day, mellowed by a delicious supper and some good wine, he caught her to him and hugged her and the next moment—afterwards he could never quite remember how—the relationship had moved on to a different level and they were lovers.

The emotional as well as the physical release seemed to add yet another dimension to his painting and he went from strength to strength. The fact that Tim and Miranda seemed to be delayed in America bothered him not at all. Having got his car into working order, he drove to Broadhayes on a day when Felicity had a lunch that she simply couldn't cancel and left a letter on the hall table, explaining that he was staying with Felicity and containing her telephone number, and collected some clothes and a few necessities.

Felicity dared not look ahead. She was living each day as it came to the absolute maximum. To wake with David beside her and to sleep with his arms around her; to lie on a sun-warmed rug beside a river, watching him absorbed and intent, while the light glanced off wet brown stones and a dipper bobbed amongst the rocks; to walk on the turf, whilst the wind pulled and tore at her clothes and a buzzard cried above her, knowing that presently she would go back to find him sheltered behind the dry-stone wall, reproducing with deft, tender strokes the texture of the crumbling stone and the springing cushions of moss that clung to it, was a kind of magic she had never known. These things had become her whole life and she did not look beyond them. David made love as he painted: intent, concentrating, with tender, loving, life-giving touches that made her feel beautiful, desirable, cherished, and she gave back to him everything she had. The moor
with its ever-changing scene and majesty seemed to enter into their love until she felt that there was no one left but the two of them and David, at one with his work and the world about him, felt exactly the same.

Felicity, happy and relaxed, seemed to shed years. Her face, softer now that the grim watchful expression had gone, wore a youthful tender expression that caught at David's heart. Her eyes, dark and luminous, gazed into his with so much love that he crushed her to him, almost afraid to see the vulnerability. The sharp, birdlike movements became slow and languid and the fearful urgency which had always dominated her life slowed to a calm, patient waiting.

One morning, stopping in Tavistock to buy some fruit for their picnic, she saw Thea. She thought with shame of how she had tried to destroy Thea's happiness and went up to her and touched her on the arm.

‘Felicity.' Thea looked faintly alarmed and then puzzled.

Felicity smiled at her, knowing the reason for that look. She hardly recognised herself these days either.

‘Hello, Thea. How are you?'

‘Fine.' Thea still looked wary. ‘And you? I must say you look very well.'