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Authors: Marjorie Norrell

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And now Philip was feeling that attraction too, even though he recognized the emotion for what it was. Trudie knew this was the truth, though it had never been put into words. If theirs had been a real engagement, entered into with love on both sides and with loving plans made for a future together, she would have had a right to fight for him and for their happiness. As it was, she sighed inwardly, there was no alternative but to offer him his freedom at the earliest possible moment.

 

CHAPTER
SIX

Trudie lay awake for a long time that night after the dinner guests had departed and the house was quiet once more. Her father had insisted that he was not too tired to enjoy the concert Geoff had planned, appreciating as they all did the efforts the young man had made in the arrangement of his stereophonic equipment and the pride he felt in the result. The concert had indeed been good, and Trudie had enjoyed letting the music wash over her, easing the ache in her heart. She told herself again that there had never been anything more between her and Philip than a friendly feeling of wanting to help him and, on his part, she thought, gratitude for an undemanding friendship without romantic obligations. Of her own feelings she gave no thought at all. She had entered into this with, she admitted to herself, the faint hope that perhaps some day it would all come true, but that was a fairy tale in which she had never really believed. She would not grumble now that she knew it must come to nothing.

All the same, lying wide-eyed and awake in the darkness, she wondered over and over again what excuse they could offer to the world at large and to their friends who had been with them that very evening for the termination of an engagement so recently entered upon and so newly celebrated.


It

s no one

s business but our own, anyway,

she consoled herself.

It will only be a seven days

wonder, and then the grapevine will find something or someone else to talk about. Maybe it will be Ursula and Geoff. At least if this pretense engagement has done something for Geoff, and for Ursula too, it won

t have been a waste after all.

She put her hands behind her head and thought of how she, together with Geoff and Garth, would sit together in the orchard at the bottom of the yard and discuss their future plans. Malcolm was not in this. She thought of him with tenderness; he was the one who looked ahead, who told them what difficulties to expect and of ways and means to overcome them. It was Malcolm who had foretold that, unless they were careful, both she and Garth would be carried away to ruin on the strength of their own idealism, and that Geoff would never make financial progress unless he took his head out of the clouds, his eyes from his graphs and test-tubes and found someone to

push

him.


And Malcolm

s been so right,

she thought now.

Just as Philip is right. That must have been what happened to Garth. He was as blinded by Veronica as Philip appears to be... and yet,

the thought struck her a blow,

perhaps Philip really loves her—perhaps Garth really loved her, too. It would be kindest, after all, to set him free
... because

—a shiver shook her—

it

s possible Veronica too has fallen in love, really in love, with him.

Around and around went the thoughts in her head. There was no other possible conclusion that she could see. At all events, she decided wearily as sleep at last claimed her, she must offer him his freedom from this pretense. What he did with it was his own affair, and he need no longer worry about Ursula, because she was already taking care of
herself
... with Geoff.

The following day Trudie waited tense and nervous for the evening when, as had been his custom since their

engagement,

Philip would stop at The Cedars on his way home from St. Catherine

s. More often than not he would stay for dinner. Trudie wondered what he would do tonight when she had told him what she had decided.


Miss Trudie,

Mrs. Emma came into the lounge where Veronica was reclining on the sofa, glancing through a magazine, not paying any attention to anyone,

I

ll have to be off now, and I still haven

t had time to run that errand for the doctor
...”
She paused, half-apologetically, half-hoping, conscious that her meeting at the local women

s institute was due to begin.


I

ve made the tea,

she went on.

Do you think I

d have time to go down to Parkinsons on my way home from the meeting?


There

s only that list to leave and some cuttings to collect, nothing else?

Trudie asked.

I can

t think why Mr. Parkinson won

t have a phone installed. His nursery

s big and flourishing enough for that, I

m sure. However, it

s a long-standing complaint with his customers.

She smiled, sensing the housekeeper

s anxiety.

I

ll pop down,

she announced.

The walk will do me good, and I haven

t anything else to do until... after tea.

She had almost said

until Philip comes this evening,

but she had stopped in time. Bustling out, Mrs. Emma was nodding her relief and gratitude.


I

m ever so grateful, Miss Trudie,

winding up her remarks as she hurried off.

Once I get there I always stay for hours; don

t seem able to get away somehow. Mind they don

t make you late home for tea yourself.


I

ll be careful,

Trudie promised and hastened upstairs to change to pay the promised visit to the nurseries at the end of the village.

It was pleasant walking along the country road that wound through the old village and down to where the sun shone on the glass-roofed greenhouses belonging to Mr. Parkinson and his taciturn nephew, Sam. The nurseries were a flourishing concern and the Parkinsons grew some wonderful plants, but nothing would move the old gentleman to modern ways—apart from those directly concerned with gardening—and he flatly refused to have a telephone installed no matter how often it was pointed out to him that this might well bring him increased business.


Have all the business I can cope with,

he would mutter when Dr. Hislop or anyone else said how easy it would be for them to telephone their orders.

Folks around here know me well enough. Send a postcard, write a note or call, and I

ll see to all that

s
necessary, but I

ll not be tied by the hour to yon dratted thing while folks tell me what

s wrong with their yards and stand asking my advice and wasting my time. They can come and see me. Then
I
can talk
and
work.

And talk and work he would, Trudie knew very well. She had always enjoyed going to see him, even as a child. She would watch his busy, soil-stained fingers doing all the thousand and one things necessary to the wellbeing of his beloved plants and the furtherance of his thriving business, and all the time talking, talking, talking. Folklore or plant lore, it was all one to Mr. Parkinson, and Dr. Hislop was not the only person who stopped by for an hour or so when he had no intention whatsoever of making any purchase but only wanted to imbibe a little homely philosophy.

Today Trudie felt in need of Ted Parkinson

s sound common sense. To him all things had their season: their birth pangs, their growth, their coming to maturity and then the gradual dying away. There was a natural season in all things, so far as he was concerned, and that applied equally to human relationships as he had so often explained to Trudie.


I can

t explain all this to Mr. Parkinson,

she told herself as she passed through the huge iron gates that were never closed; climbing plants had festooned themselves so that it was highly improbable they could ever close again, even if Mr. Parkinson had so desired.

It

s not my secret, not really. It was Philip

s idea, because he was tired of Ursula and the rest running after him. Because something seems to have gone wrong it

s up to me to end it, as he won

t feel able to. He

ll have some silly idea of letting me down, I

m sure of it, just because I agreed to his plan in the first place. But talking to someone out of the family might help
...
even if the conversation has nothing to do with the problem.

She found old Ted down where she had expected him to be; in the greenhouse, transplanting seedlings from boxes, hardening them off for planting outdoors. He greeted her pleasantly enough and went on with his work as though she were not there, indicating with a wave of his pipe that there were plenty of boxes around if she wanted to sit down and

chat a little bit.

Trudie perched herself on one and made herself comfortable, the parcel of cuttings she had called to collect already beside her, the list in her father

s neat writing on the bench beside Ted. He went on working in silence for a time, then began to chat about this and that and village affairs in general, until he shot her a penetrating glance from under his bushy eyebrows and remarked,

Seems like I

ve to give you my good wishes, Miss Trudie. Will we be havin

a wedding up at The Cedars this summer, then?


I
... no, I don

t think so, that is ... nothing

s been decided yet. We haven

t made any plans,

Trudie stammered, quite forgetting to thank him for his good wishes and merely feeling guilty in accepting them.

Dr. Malham

s the new superintendent at the hospital extension,

she added in a somewhat lame explanation,

and I

m going to work there, too. We shall have to wait and see for a little while how things work out there.


Shouldn

t wait too long,

Ted said startling her.

It

s put new life into your dad, has this engagement of yours. I haven

t seen him so perked up since we heard about Mr. Garth. Know what he said to me?

he demanded, beetling his brows in Trudie

s direction so that she could only stammer,

No, Mr. Parkinson. I can

t even guess.


He said,

Know what, Ted? I

m getting another son. Won

t be like my own, but he

s a good boy and worthy of the family. One of the easiest ways I know of adding to what you have ... a wife for your boys, a son for your daughter.
’”


I didn

t know he felt like that,

Trudie said as the old man lapsed into silence again.

He hasn

t said anything to me.


Doesn

t say much except about what really moves him, doesn

t your dad,

Ted commented gruffly.

Came up here for hours on end when you first had the news about Mr. Garth. Didn

t say much, except now and then he

d talk about the days when you were all little and you and Mr. Garth used to come down here with him for plants and the like. Told me about Mrs. Garth coming, too. Seemed to buck him up no end that she

d come, to join the family, but he hasn

t said much about her lately. Been too taken up with this news of yours, I suppose.


I suppose so.

This was a new angle, something she had not thought of, Trudie realized. She had only been thinking of herself and her own emotions. Now that it seemed her father

s feelings were also involved, she would have to do some fresh thinking.


I

d better be getting back.

She gathered up her plants and cuttings, ready to leave.

Mrs. Emma gets cross if we

re late for meals, and she had tea already prepared.

She said her goodbye to Ted, his

Think on what I

ve told you, Miss Trudie, and don

t wait too long

lingering in her ear, but her thoughts were in turmoil as she briskly walked home. If her father found comfort in this

engagement

and if Philip still thought of it as a form of protection, would she be wise to end it just now? But the memory of the glances she had seen exchanged between Philip and Veronica flashed back to torment her. As she turned into the gates of home and saw Philip

s car outside the door she made up her mind.

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