The Courtyard (35 page)

Read The Courtyard Online

Authors: Marcia Willett

BOOK: The Courtyard
9.61Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
‘Don't argue with me,' she told him and laughed at herself.
Kissing him tenderly, she laid him in his carrycot and took him down to the terrace. Gussie had placed two chairs side by side and
Gillian laid the cot across them. Gussie bent over him and Gillian marvelled anew at her restraint where Thomas was concerned. She knew very well that Gussie sometimes longed to snatch him up and cuddle him but she never attempted to usurp Gillian's position or trade on her own. She always asked permission before she performed any task for him and never gave advice.
‘Pick him up,' said Gillian off-handedly. ‘Go on. I expect he'd like a little look round. I changed him just now so he should be respectable.'
She wandered over to the tray and started to pour the tea, keeping her back to Gussie so that she might be as emotional as she liked without witnesses. She instinctively knew that Gussie's overwhelming love for the child often took the elderly reserved woman by surprise and that the baby was a whole new shattering experience to her. The way she held him – awkwardly, tenderly, full of awe – was quite different from Lydia's experienced relaxed hugs and cuddles and Gillian had often caught Gussie watching Thomas and his grandmother with an expression of heart-rending envy on her face. Gillian was determined that Gussie should feel as involved and as necessary as Lydia and, whenever she could, she encouraged Gussie to pick Thomas up and talk to him.
‘I think he's beginning to know your voice,' she said, strolling back with her cup.
‘D'you really think so?' Gussie stared into the baby's face, opened her mouth to say that he was all Morley and shut it again. ‘He does seem to be looking at me.'
‘Of course he is. You are his favourite aunt, after all.'
‘Oh, well …' Gussie's mouth worked a little and she turned away, pretending to show Thomas the view from the terrace.
‘With me and Henry being only children, he's lucky to have a ready-made aunt already in situ.'
Mrs Ridley, on the pretext of forgetting the cake, appeared in the doorway. ‘Cake,' she said unnecessarily, her eyes straying to Gussie.
‘And lucky to have Mrs Ridley,' added Gillian, sitting down and
cutting herself a piece of cake. ‘I'm such a rotten cook that he'd probably starve to death.'
‘Poor little tacker,' said Mrs Ridley, as though this had already happened.
She sidled a little closer and looked at Thomas over Gussie's bony shoulder. Gussie moved slightly so that they could share this wonderful moment and Thomas mewed and squeaked and gave a loud sudden yawn. Gillian watched the two heads together and smiled to herself. How simple and natural it seemed to be, now, to bring pleasure and happiness to those around her. She thought of how easily she might have missed all this and felt quite cold with horror. She wondered where Sam had got to on that July day and where he was now. She suspected that Henry's guess had been right; that Sam had seen someone he knew and had been obliged to run for it. She no longer feared the knock at the door or the peal of the telephone bell and was glad that she'd been spared the meeting with him.
She knew deep inside that it was all over and in her great happiness could even hope that Sam was safe somewhere. She'd loved him once, he'd been part of her and that, too, would go on with her through her life. She thought of the happy moments; of Sam, relaxed, loving her, and felt a strange sharp sadness and hoped that nothing had happened to him on his flight back to France.
She pushed aside her forebodings as she heard Henry's baritone echoing in the hall and turned to smile at him as he came out through the door and into the sunshine.
 
 
JUST AS NELL'S REMOVAL to the Courtyard and her recovery from the attack gave an edge to the Midsummer's Eve party at Nethercombe, so Lydia's wedding lifted the Christmas party on to a higher level of excitement.
The only tiny cloud on Nell's horizon was her unresolved relationship with Guy and, although each time she saw him she meant to make it quite clear that she could never marry him, somehow it never quite got said. They had slipped into a rather strange relationship which seemed to be waiting for something to happen before the next phase could be embarked upon. Guy was sometimes away for weeks at a time. In the winter he supplemented his income by moving boats for people and these extended absences helped to keep the friendship in a rather static situation.
Nell, too, was very busy. Elizabeth had no compunction in putting more and more on to her plate – ‘throwing you in at the deep end,' as she called it – and Nell, far from finding this daunting, seemed to thrive on it and rise to greater and greater heights with each new challenge. She was loving every minute of it and was overwhelmed with gratitude that – through Gillian – Elizabeth had given her this chance. With so many friends surrounding them she was able to continue working even when Jack was at home. He'd come home for Christmas positively glowing with the importance of being a godfather. He'd already been introduced to his godson at half-term and
had been busy at school making him a wooden horse in his woodwork class. It was surprisingly good and Gillian was deeply touched. So was Gussie when he went to her to discuss the religious duties implicit in being a godfather. He had been confirmed at school that term and was taking the whole thing very seriously. Gussie promised that she would look into it and, in his absence, keep an eye on Thomas. They solemnly agreed that he was a little young at present for any formal instruction and Jack had to content himself with studying the Publick Baptism of Infants in Gussie's Book of Common Prayer in preparation for the great day at the end of the Christmas holidays.
Phoebe came upon him circling the swimming pool and reciting quietly to himself.
‘You sound like Gussie,' she said, falling in beside him. ‘Having a quiet word with Him Upstairs?'
‘I'm learning my responses,' he told her seriously. ‘Everyone else will have done it before, I expect, and I don't want to look a twit. Gillian says that I can hold Thomas when we're at the font and I shall need to concentrate on him and I may not be able to manage a book at the same time. So I'm reading it up. It all began with Noah, you know. I didn't realize that.'
‘Neither did I,' said Phoebe, mystified. ‘Mind you! I've always had a lot of time for Noah. Must've been a pretty big boat to get that lot in and he built it all on his own. Or so I understand. I must remind. Guy of that next time he starts whingeing about moving a forty-foot boat without assistance. At least he hasn't got a zoo breathing down his neck at the same time.'
‘And then there was Moses and John the Baptist, said Jack, refusing to be sidetracked by Phoebe's meanderings down this interesting byway. ‘I have to renounce the devil and all his works and the vain pomp and glory of the world, as well as the carnal desires of the flesh. I have to say, “I renounce them all.” '
‘Golly!' said Phoebe, deeply impressed. ‘That's a bit stiff, isn't it? Doesn't really leave you much scope, does it? Life'll be a bit flat, I should have thought.'
‘It's only till Thomas is old enough to renounce them for himself,' Jack assured her. ‘That'll be when he gets confirmed.'
‘That's a comfort,' said Phoebe, relieved.
‘It doesn't really matter much,' said Jack. ‘I've just been confirmed so I've had to take the vows anyway.'
‘Sounds a bit tough to me,' admitted Phoebe. ‘Which d'you think you'll find the hardest? The pomp and glory of the world? Or the carnal desires of the flesh? What was the other one?'
‘The devil and all his works.' Jack sighed. ‘I don't quite know. It'll probably get more difficult as I get older.'
Phoebe nodded thoughtfully and sucked air through her teeth. Jack looked at her a little anxiously.
‘D'you find it very difficult? Or are you too old to really worry any more?' he asked.
Phoebe expelled her breath, shook her head consideringly, and shrugged. ‘Sometimes yes. Sometimes no,' she said.
‘There's a lot to be said for stocking up beforehand. You know? Getting it out of the system young. At least you've got something to look back on when you're twenty or so. Got an idea! I don't know that I can do much about the carnal desires of the flesh but why don't we go into Brent and get a few videos and a fourpack from Val and Ian and make an evening of it?'
‘A
fourpack
!'
‘You're right. Two fourpacks.'
‘Really? Gosh! Can we?'
‘We certainly can. Come on. You've got an awful lot to fit in before the end of December. We may as well get started.'
‘Gosh!' said Jack again. He tried to decide whether fourpacks and videos came under the heading of the devil and all his works or the
vain pomp and glory of the world and gave it all up with a certain amount of relief. ‘Thanks.'
He grinned up at her expectantly and they hurried through the little gate and set off down the drive together.
 
GUY, BACK FROM A few weeks away, was surprised at how happy he was to return to the Courtyard. It was a pleasant scene at dusk; lights twinkling from the windows and smoke rising gently into the frosty air. The moon sailed serenely behind the black outlines of the bare trees and the owl drifted from the woods, his call plaintive and strangely eerie.
It was such an evening – or late afternoon – when, returning from a stroll along the beech walk, he saw Gemma hurrying across the bottom of the drive. It looked as if she had been to his cottage and, finding it empty, was going away. His feeling of disappointment that he should miss her was unbelievably sharp and he let out a loud shout which made Bertie jump. Gemma either didn't hear or ignored the call and hurried over to where her car was parked. Guy raced down the last few yards, his feet slipping and sliding on the gravel whilst Bertie skittered from side to side, ears flattened, trying to keep out of his way. As he came level with the entrance to the Courtyard, Gemma's little car was just backing out of the space allocated to Guy's visitors and he ran towards her, waving his arms. Still she didn't seem to see him but pulled away and vanished down the drive and out into the lane.
Guy stood perfectly still, a prey to several different emotions. He was confused by his disappointment and the other quite unreasonable feeling of rejection and hurt, as if she had deliberately ignored him and had been trying to avoid him. Why on earth should she come into the Courtyard if she didn't wish to see him? He wondered if she'd put a note through his door and dashed over to his cottage, feeling in his pocket for his key. There was a note, lying on the mat; a folded piece of paper. He snatched it up and his eyes flew over it.
Dear Guy,
Just to say that I shan't be over this holiday. I suspect that I'm a bit of a nuisance to you and you've been very sweet about it but I won't bother you any more. Chris will be home for Christmas and I've decided that it might be more sensible to concentrate on him. We'll still be friends, won't we? It's been fun.
Love, Gemma.
Guy was back out of the door in a flash, stuffing the note into his pocket, urging Bertie into the back of the car, leaping in, turning and racing down the drive with spurts of gravel flying from beneath the wheels. He knew just which way she would go and he turned the car on to the Ivybridge road and headed for Cornwood. As he drove across the moor, his brain reeled as it grappled with his thoughts. It was as though a curtain had been ripped away in his mind and he saw what an unutterable idiot he'd been. He realised that his determined adulation for Nell had blinded him to the glaringly obvious truth. He thought of the pleasure he felt when he saw Gemma, the comfort and confidence she gave him, the ease and happiness he experienced in her company. It was Gemma, the real flesh and blood girl with her teasing loving ways, that he loved; not the dream that he'd built round the ethereal Nell and which he'd persisted in keeping fixed before his eyes. Oh, yes! Nell was beautiful, vulnerable, alone. And that had woken his chivalrous tendencies and made him believe that he was in love with her. He'd been like a sixteen-year-old, infatuated by a film star; there was no reality in it. He knew, now, why he'd been unable to imagine Nell in the role of mistress and wife. As he drove, he put Gemma into the role with no difficulty at all. His heart started to pound furiously and he hit the steering wheel several times with his clenched fist.
‘Fool!' He cursed himself aloud and Bertie cowered in the back, scrabbling to keep his balance as the car fled round corners and up hills.
He was out beyond Wotter before he saw her taillights and he drew close up behind the little hatchback and flashed his lights at her. Still she drove on without slackening her speed and finally, in desperation, he overtook her on the long stretch before Cadover Bridge. He glimpsed her startled face as he flashed past, his two offside wheels bumping over the moorland, and then he pulled in front of her car and gradually slowed down until she was obliged to stop. He was out of the car and opening her door before she had even grasped that it was him and she gave a cry of relief as he hauled her out of the car.
‘Guy! I didn't realise it was you. I wondered whatever was going on!'
‘Why did you go away?' he demanded, holding her shoulders and giving her a little shake. ‘Didn't you hear me shouting to you?'
‘I left you a note,' she said evasively, looking up at him rather shyly. She pushed the hair out of her eyes. ‘I put it through the door.'
‘I saw it,' said Guy contemptuously. ‘Never saw such rubbish in my life.'
‘Was it rubbish?' she asked and he bent suddenly and kissed her. His blood raced and he felt dizzy and weak and clutched her to him, her face crushed into his shoulder.
‘Absolute bloody rubbish,' he mumbled against her hair. ‘But it was my fault. I've been a grade-A monumental fool.' He swallowed hard, pushed away his instinctive urge for self-preservation and caution and spoke the simple truth. ‘I love you.'
She strained away from him, peering at him in the fast-fading light.
‘Oh, Guy. Really and truly? I love you, too. I have for ages. Years.'
He laughed and held her close. ‘Since you were in your pram? I'm delighted to hear it. No more rubbish about Chris then.' And he bent and kissed her again.
Presently she realised that she was shivering.
‘What shall we do?' she asked, her eyes enormous with love. ‘We're halfway between the Courtyard and the Rectory. D'you want to come back with me? The boys are home for Christmas.'
‘No,' said Guy at once, who had no desire to face the Wivenhoes en
masse
whilst he was feeling so unlike himself. He needed to get used to these feelings and to be alone with Gemma. ‘Could you bear to come back with me now? I'll drive you home later on and I'll come and fetch you tomorrow so that you can get the car.'
‘Or,' said Gemma, with her familiar provocative grin. ‘I could stay the night with you. I'm sure Ma and Pa would understand. Us all being such old friends.'
‘You'll do nothing of the sort,' said Guy, his old puritanical instincts coming to the fore. ‘It would be all over Nethercombe in minutes. We'll wait.'
‘Heavens!' said Gemma in mock dismay. ‘I'm not sure I can. How long do you suggest?'
‘I've been thinking.' He grinned at her. ‘I'm going down to pick up a boat from Fowey just after Christmas. Like to come along?'
‘Love to. As long as you don't order me about too much!'
They kissed again and Guy hesitated as they prepared to climb back into their respective cars.
‘Gemma?' She paused, one foot inside. ‘You know that I'm asking you to marry me, don't you?'
She grinned and shook her head at him.
‘And about bloody time, too!' she said.
 
BY THE TIME THE party actually took place, everyone was on a high. Guy had gone to Nell and told her the truth, praying that she wouldn't be hurt and upset. Part of him knew that she'd never been in love with him and that it was only because she hated to hurt his feelings that she had tried to keep him at arm's length. Nevertheless he felt very nervous and foolish. She embraced him warmly, wished him luck and told him that she was delighted.
‘Apart from anything else,' she told him, ‘I'm far too old for you. And, anyway, I've discovered this latent urge to become a career woman.
They parted with a good deal of warmth and enormous relief on both sides and settled down to enjoy Christmas.

Other books

Sarah's Promise by Leisha Kelly
Bride of the Night by Heather Graham
Frost by Kate Avery Ellison
The Hunter's Pet by Loki Renard
Philippa by Bertrice Small
Timpanogos by D. J. Butler
La Corporación by Max Barry
Build a Man by Talli Roland