Man of the Trees (14 page)

‘Sorry if I caused your lover to rush away,’ drawled Ross maddeningly.

Ruth turned on him. ‘He is
not
my lover, as you put it,’ she said crossly.

‘No? I guess he’d like to be.’

‘That is neither here nor there,’ she told him. ‘And I’ll thank you to stop making those kind of assertions!’

He inclined his head. ‘Quite the puritan, aren’t you?’

‘And why not?’ she flashed back.

‘Why not, indeed? It’s most refreshing.’

Ruth turned on her heels and went into the kitchen. Why did her feelings take such wild swings when he was around? Out there on the patio she was pleased to see him. Now she was angry with him. He strolled into the kitchen after her.

‘Have you had any lunch?’ he demanded rather than asked.

‘Of course I have.’

"There’s no “of course” about it. I don’t think you know, half the time, whether you’ve eaten or not.’

‘And who made you my keeper?’ she retorted.

He shrugged. ‘Someone has to keep an eye on you.’

She hid a smile as she spooned coffee into two mugs. ‘Maybe Gareth thinks that’s his job.’

There was a moment’s silence. ‘Then why don’t you marry him?’

She looked at him in surprise. ‘I might one day. He does ask me from time to time.’

‘I suppose it was one of the times I interrupted just now?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact, it was.’

‘You don’t seem to believe in marriage any more than you believe in having a lover. Don’t tell me you’ve decided to remain an untouched lily-white spinster all your life.’

Ruth felt her cheeks colouring. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just that I’d—rather stay as I am for the time being.’

‘Why?’ he asked uncompromisingly.

She rounded on him. ‘That’s none of your business. Where would you like this coffee?’

He eyed her with raised brows. ‘Not in my face, which is where you look as though you’d like to put it. Come on, let’s go into the other room.’

She preceded him to the living room hovering between anger and laughter, and that absurd light feeling.

‘You left your pipe behind this morning,’ she told him as he dropped into the chair vacated by Gareth.

He glanced at the ashtray. ‘So I did, but I have another in the office.’

‘Just like that one?’

He nodded. ‘A man I know up in Scotland who’s partly paralysed made them.’

‘Does he make them to sell? If so, he can’t be making much money. They’re so intricate. It must take ages to make just one.’

‘He just makes them for friends. It’s a hobby, not his living. He’s a rich man, actually, but he likes doing things with his hands.’

Ruth was scarcely listening to what he was saying. She was concentrating on the lines of his face, the changed expression as he spoke of his friend. She was beginning to see why he had such a reputation. He could be infuriating, he was arrogant as many men were, but he could also be wonderful.

She jerked herself out of her thoughts and picked up the morning’s paper.

‘Gareth and I were looking at the property market,’ she told him.

‘Oh, really? Is
he
buying—or are you?’

‘I am, of course. Remember? This is only a short-term temporary arrangement.’

‘I hope it is,’ he agreed aggravatingly. ‘And did you see anything worth following up?’

She picked up a pen and ringed round the one she had mentioned to Gareth. She was not surprised that his reaction was exactly the same with slightly different words.

‘For goodness’ sake, girl, you can’t live in one of those!’ he exploded.

‘And why not? Other people do.’

‘You are not “other people”. There’s no garden, you’re hemmed in by neighbours. It’s unthinkable. You’re not the type to be happy in one of those kind of houses.’

‘No? Then what type do you think I am?’

‘You know perfectly well without being told. You’re the kind who can’t exist happily without a garden, without trees all around you. You need to be free like a bird. You’d feel as cooped up as if you were in a cage in that terrace house.’

‘But it’s within my price range. I don’t want to saddle myself with a heavy mortgage which will worry me to death to keep up. I need to have my mind free for my work.’

‘Which it wouldn’t be if you were to stifle yourself in a house with traffic rumbling by and a backyard you couldn’t swing a cat round in,’ he insisted. He ran his eyes down the column of houses for sale. ‘Now here’s one—overlooking the Knightwood Inclosure—’

‘Oh, very nice, I’m sure,’ Ruth intervened sarcastically. ‘Can’t you get it into your head? I just haven’t got that kind of money.’

It occurred to her in a vague sort of way that they were talking to each other much as old friends might, and marvelled how her attitude towards him had changed.

‘Mm,’ he murmured thoughtfully, and went on as though she had never spoken: ‘I think I might buy it myself.’

She looked at him in astonishment. ‘Buy it yourself? Why on earth should you do that? You know perfectly well the Commission like you to live in their house.’

‘True—and I intend to. In fact, I’m doing that right now, aren’t I? It’s just that I’m toying with the idea of becoming a property owner. It so happens that
I could
afford it.’

‘But what would you do with it? Let it lie empty?’

He darted her a reproving look. ‘Never heard of rented property? An investment?’

‘Sure, but I wouldn’t have thought this was the best time for investing in houses. In the present economic climate prices are likely to fall rather than rise.’

His eyes widened. ‘The present economic climate? What kind of jargon is that for an artist?’

‘I may be an artist, but I’m not entirely ignorant of what’s going on in the world,’ she retorted.

‘Seemingly not, but I happen to think that owning a house is always a good investment. What about coming with me right now to have a look at it?’

He really was the most incredible man. ‘Why me?’

‘Why not you?’ he countered. ‘You happen to be around, and I’m not one to let grass grow under my feet, once I’ve got an idea.’

‘Obviously not.’

He stood up. ‘Come on, then. We can call at the estate agent’s office on the way.’

‘And what if somebody else has got there before you?’

‘Oh, come on, girl. We’ll deal with that eventuality when we come to it.’

Resignedly, she allowed him to usher her out of the house and into his car. The estate agent’s office was only a short distance, and on the way to the Knightwood Inclosure. And as Ruth fully expected, the house was still available, the key in the office. Not only that, the people selling the house had already moved out.

Ross took the keys and grinned triumphantly at Ruth as if he had waved the magic wand himself.

‘What did I tell you? Come on, let’s go and see.’ He took hold of her hand, and Ruth raised her eyes to heaven as he led her back to the car. It was his business, of course, but she couldn’t for the life of her think why he wanted to buy a house when as long as he worked for the Forestry Commission he could always be assured of one in which to live.

But it was a dream of a house. Ruth could not think why anyone would want to leave it. It had a separate dining room which would just have been right for her piano, Ruth thought wistfully. It had a large lounge, similar to the one in the Head Forester’s house, and leading from a small rear lobby was a delightful conservatory. As to the garden, it was a mass of colour, while the view from the bedroom windows was perfect Trees, and yet more trees.

‘It just isn’t fair!’ Ruth wailed.

‘What isn’t?’ asked Ross.

‘It’s a perfect dream, but I haven’t the money.’

‘You’d be too late, anyway. I’m buying it,’ he said. ‘I’ve made up my mind.’

She could have hit him. ‘And what are you going to do with it?’

‘I’ve told you—let it. Do you know of anyone who’s looking for accommodation?’

She looked at him suspiciously. This must be his idea of a joke. Or was he in a hurry to get her away from the Forester’s house, and as she couldn’t seem to find a suitable place he was offering her this opening? It was true, really, that a house was an asset. All the same, it was something of a mystery as to why he should suddenly decide to buy a house simply as an investment.

‘You’re not thinking of leaving the service, are you?’ she asked him.

‘No. Whatever gave you that idea?’ She didn’t answer. ‘Well, I’ll have to be getting back on the job, and I suppose you’re anxious to get back to your painting. I’ll just have time to drop these keys back to the estate office and tell them I’m buying it, then see them tomorrow.’

Ruth said very little until he dropped her off at the house, then she said quietly: “Would you consider renting your house to me?’

‘Yes, I’d certainly consider it,’ he answered maddeningly. ‘We’ll talk it over later. This evening, if you like. I’ll be home around six. O.K?’

She found herself nodding in agreement, and he had gone before she realised her declared intention to be out of the house each evening before he returned. He was trying to run her life, that’s what he was doing. Well, she wasn’t having it. She just simply wouldn’t be here when he came home. She would show him that he couldn’t order her about. She was not one of his Forest workers.

A small voice inside her told her she might be cutting off her nose to spite her face. Suppose, if she were not here, he let that lovely house to someone else? She did an hour’s painting and decided on a course of action which would be a compromise. She would go into Lyndhurst and buy an evening paper, then take that and the daily back with her to Mrs. Smith’s house, have her meal, study more thoroughly the properties for sale, then come back here somewhere around eight o’clock. That would give Ross sufficient time to realise that she was not at his beck and call, or to have given her up altogether.

The decision gave a definite lift to her spirits. But there were two things she had not reckoned on. One was that Gareth called to see her while she was still at Mrs. Smith’s house going through the papers, and the other was that Ross rang. Gareth had just arrived when Mrs. Smith answered the telephone and brought in the message.

‘Do you want to come and speak to him?’ she asked.

‘No, she doesn’t,’ Gareth answered swiftly.

‘Gareth!’ Ruth admonished. She turned to Mrs. Smith. ‘Would you mind telling him that I can’t come to the phone just now, but that I’ll be over to see him some time during the evening?’

That will teach him, she thought rather gleefully. She heard Mrs. Smith replace the telephone receiver after giving Ross the message, and as Mrs. Smith did not return Ruth concluded that there was no danger of Ross not being at home later on.

‘What do you mean, you’re going back during the evening?’ Gareth asked in an aggrieved tone. ‘What’s going on?’

Briefly, Ruth put him in the picture and, predictably, Gareth blew his top.

‘What on earth does the man think he’s playing at? He’s got some heinous scheme in mind, believe me.’ Gareth was quite beside himself.

Ruth laughed gently. ‘Oh, Gareth, don’t be silly. Maybe he’s buying it for his old age or something.’

‘Well, don’t you get any more involved with him, please, Ruth. Living in his house will give him some kind of hold on you. Maybe that’s what he wants. You’re one of the few women in the area who hasn’t been falling over backwards to get a date with him—though heaven knows why. You’re the exception and he’s trying other means to get you.’

‘Really, Gareth! You dislike him so much, your judgement is all to pot. If I rent the house from him, surely it will be far better than our present arrangement. And don’t worry, he wouldn’t stand an earthly with me, even if he wanted to—which I’m sure he doesn’t,’ she added, her tongue in her cheek. ‘Anyway, we barely tolerate each other. Every time we meet we have a row. If he does let me rent this house he’s buying, it will only be until I can find a suitable one of my own, or accrue a little more money.’

Gareth sighed. ‘Oh, all right, but I tell you, I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.’

Even making a detailed study of the two local newspapers Ruth still did not see either a house or cottage for sale which sounded suitable or was within her price range.

‘I’d better go,’ she told Gareth as the clock on the mantelpiece crept to eight o’clock. ‘I really would like that place of his for a little while. He might even let me buy it from him one day. It hasn’t an attic, but it has a large bedroom with a northerly outlook which will be fine for me to work in.’

Reluctantly, Gareth let her go after getting her to promise to go to the dance at the Foresters’ Club on the coming Saturday.

‘And let me know when you’re likely to move into that house. I can come and help you.’

As she drove back to the house she had called her home for so many years, Ruth became filled with apprehension. Suppose Ross changed his mind about letting her rent the house he was buying? When she had asked him if he would consider renting it to her, he had not sounded sure by any means. She did not really mind their present arrangement, but it was not ideal. Her friends—especially Gareth—were used to coming and going as they pleased, but it was Ross’s home now. In addition to that, it would be much more convenient for her to live where she worked, as quite often she felt like doing some more work during the evening when she had not actually planned to. Or she might get an idea and want to put something down on canvas straight away.