Harbinger of Spring (21 page)

‘
Here
’
s the Hall. Quite near to your Mill.
’

She dried
her hands and went to lean over his shoulder.
‘
So it is. Two miles up river. That
’
s just beyond the
place where
we met the honeymooners
’
cruiser.
’

‘
Met
it! Aren
’
t you being over-polite? I see there
’
s
a staithe
marked here. I wonder if it
’
s still usable? I
’
ll
phone
the Club again and find out.
’

He was
on
his feet instantly and walking quickly into
the hall.
Sara went back to her dish-washing, but was
soon interrupted again.

‘
It
’
s not only open, there are good lights on the quay and a clear path to the Hall. This could be quite an evening.
’

He folded the map and moved to the window and announced that the snow was turning to sleet.

‘
I thought it might. Those large flakes were very soft. Why not make yourself comfortable in the sitting room for a while? I
’
ll follow you in a few minutes.
’

It was a quarter of an hour before Sara picked up her letter and went to the other room. She smiled when she saw her father had taken off his shoes and was dozing comfortably in one of the chairs. She chose the settee and kicked off her own shoes and opened the long envelope. A few moments later she sat bolt upright, shocked and indignant. The letter was from a London firm of solicitors informing her that they had been put to some trouble to ascertain her present address, but that now they had done so they would shortly be filing a petition for bankruptcy on behalf of a number of creditors.

There was some mistake, of course, but Sara could not think how it had arisen. If it had not been Saturday she would have telephoned the solicitors immediately. As it was she would have to contain her worries until Monday. Then she thought of Des. He must be worried, too.

She went into the hall and dialled the number of the boutique, but failed to make a connection. After several attempts she rang the operator and explained her difficulty. There was a little delay, then a polite voice told her the number was unobtainable.

‘
Unobtainable? Surely you mean engaged?
’

‘
Would you like me to put you through to the supervisor?
’

‘
If you would. It
’
s important that I get through.
’
Half a minute later Sara put the instrument down.
After some insistence on her
part and an explanation of
who she was, she had been told
that the telephone at the
boutique had been disconnected
because of non-payment
of the account. She went back
to the sitting room, her
worries doubled, and as she
walked past her father he
roused from his doze.

‘
Hello,
’
he said.
‘
Sorry
I dropped off. It must be
all the fresh air I
’
ve been having.
’

Sara managed a smile.
‘
Plus a fairly substantial
lunch. I
’
ve never known
you eat so well.
’

She picked up her letter
and put it into the drawer of
a little writing table, and
as she closed the drawer she
determined that her worries should
stay inside it until
Monday morning. She crossed to the
window and looked
out.

‘
The sky
’
s cleared again.
I
think it
might turn out to
be a fine evening.
’

He joined her.
‘
I
find
it
difficult to
get used to the
rapid changes in the weather here.
Brilliant sunshine
one minute—hail and snow
in
the
next—then clear
again.
’

‘
I expect it
’
s with us being
so close to the North Sea,
’
she said dully.
‘
No land between
here and the Arctic.
’
It was a trivial subject
for conversation, but anything
was better than letting
her mind dwell on the letter. Un
consciously and in an
oblique sort of way, however, her
father brought her
mind back to it.

‘
I wish you could
find some way of holding on to this
house permanently, Sara.
I
’
d love to spend my summer
weekends here, but I
suppose with that business of yours,
it
’
s pretty well impossible.
’

‘
I
’
m
afraid it is.
’

Sara felt she had to
escape for a while and made the
taking of
a
bath and
the resetting of her hair an excuse
for going upstairs. For
a long while she stood gazing
out of the window, wondering
just what had happened
to bring about this state of affairs. When she had first read the letter she was certain that it was all some stupid mistake which could be cleared up by some telephone call or a quick trip to London. But the cutting-off of the telephone had made her feel very uneasy. That was one account which had not been paid. How about the others, totalling nearly a thousand pounds? They were mostly bills from manufacturers of teenage fashions and she remembered quite clearly signing some of the cheques for them.
There must be a mistake.
There must.

Sara managed to sound lighthearted and amused as she left the house later with her father, and any other time her laughter would have been genuine enough at the idea of setting out for a dinner-dance wearing a wisp of a frock beneath a heavy coat and Wellington boots. However, her father
’
s laughter was real enough and the weather was kind to them, so that by the time they reached the staithe, Sara had managed to push her troubles into the background. She clumped from the launch to what seemed a rear entrance to the Hall and her father held open a door for her to step into a softly lighted, oak-panelled vestibule. There was a massive cloak and umbrella stand there with two pairs of wellingtons alongside it. Sara pulled off hers, stepped into her shoes, then entered a door marked
Powder-room.
A few seconds later she rejoined her father.

The strains of a Viennese waltz reached them as they stepped into a wide, half-panelled corridor and before Sara had time to look about her they were being greeted by the head waiter. He ushered them through a doorway into a large, high-ceilinged room and to a table in a window recess.

Sara looked about her with interest. At the further end of the room in a large alcove with a half-shell design for its ceiling, a three-piece string ensemble was accompanied by a piano. Only three couples were dancing and
they seemed to have grouped
themselves in the very
centre of the room under a perfectly
huge glass chandelier
which was the focal point of
a much ornamented ceiling.
The heavy plaster work of the ceiling
finished at a deeply
-
moulded co
rn
ice and beneath
that was a wide frieze
depicting a country scene, lavish
with garlanded nymphs
and shepherds. The lower part
of the walls was prac
tically covered with large oil
paintings enclosed in
massive gilt frames. Sara had
the menu in her hand,
but was so carried away by the Victorian
extravaganza
she had hardly glanced at
it.

‘
I
’
ll take the soup and the Norfolk
duckling
,’
her
father said.
‘
How about you, Sara?
’

‘
Oh yes. The same, please
.’

The music stopped and her attention
went to the other
people. About a dozen tables were
occupied, mostly by
parties of four, and from them
came a discreet murmur
of conversation. The atmosphere
was grand, yet warm
and intimate; that of a great
house. She couldn
’
t help
wo
ndering whether Hugh had not been
here.

‘
Will a hock suit you?
’
her
father asked.

‘
Yes, please. Sorry, Father,
I was miles away
.’

He gave the order
and smiled at her as the waiter left
them.
‘
How distant
were you?
’

‘
Only distant in
time. I was wondering whether
—
what the people who first
lived here were like
,’
she
amended swiftly.

‘
Very solid and respectable,
I should think. Father
with his frock coat
and mutton-chop whiskers standing,
in front of
that
marble
fireplace. Mother all in black with
a bustle which kept
her on the edge of her chair while
she crocheted yards and
yards of something or other
.’

‘
How
about the
children
?
’

‘
Numerous, but not seen
very often, and scarcely ever heard.
’
He
turned
his head as the music began again.

‘
Come
along.
Once
around the floor while we
’
re waiting for our soup.
’

Sara thought this might be a time of testing for both of them, but to her surprise her father danced very well. She complimented him on it and he smiled at her.

‘
You
’
re not too bad yourself. Guiding most of you young girls is like steering a car with the accelerator jammed hard down.
’

‘
Oh? Where did you get your experience of young girls?
’

‘
A few of my young business associates have even younger wives and they condescend to dance with us ancients. Ah, here
’
s the waiter with our soup.
’

Sara enjoyed the excellent meal, and after it her father lit a cigar and reminisced about the days of his youth.

‘
It was at a dance that I first met your mother, not a swell affair like this, of course. What we called a hop. It was in a church hall.
’

Sara felt her eyes grow misty. Very rarely did her father speak of her mother and she realized for the first time how much he must miss her.

‘
Poor Father,
’
she said softly.
‘
Life must have been very lonely for you.
’

‘
It was at first, but I had you. But enough of dwelling on the past. Let
’
s dance. That
’
s why I brought you here.
’

It was a waltz and they were halfway around the floor when to her surprise Sara saw Hugh and a blonde girl walk into the room. He saw Sara at once, smiled and gave a brief nod, then led the girl into the dance.

A blonde, Sara thought dully. Not the dark-haired beauty she had imagined, but lovely, nevertheless.