Authors: Marcia Willett

The Courtyard (6 page)

BOOK: The Courtyard

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Nell replaced the bank statement and went back to the kitchen. She realised the time had come to talk about things, but how should she approach it? She would have to tell him what she knew or he would palm her off with verbal placebos. As her imagination got to work and she began to feel the familiar sensations of anxiety, she tried to keep her fear under control. There was no point in getting worked up until she knew the exact situation. But would John
tell
her the exact situation? She knew very well that his hopes and desires often got mixed in with his perception of reality and, if she stripped away his illusions, he might not be able to confront the bare truth without a massive loss of confidence. Perhaps now was the time to try to find a job herself and make some contribution towards the household expenses. When this subject had been raised in the past John had protested loudly against it; he was perfectly able to support his wife, he told her. She suspected that if she were to suggest it now it would merely underline the fact that his ability to provide was in question. Nell rubbed her hands over her face, picked up her glass and went to refill it. Even as she raised it to her lips, she heard John's key in the lock and his step in the hall. He put his head round the door.

âSo there you are.' The smile, the thick fair hair, the blue eyes, were Rupert's. And Jack's. Her heart contracted with love. âI've got to meet a client at a property just round the corner so I thought I'd pop in for a quick cup of coffee,' he said. His eye fell on her glass. âGoodness!' His eyebrows shot up and the corners of his mouth down. âBar's open early, I see.'

âOh, John.' She stood the glass down and went to him. Thoughts struggled together in her head. Should she tell him now? Was there time to work through it all before he went to meet his client? Although she knew the unwisdom of it, her anxieties were so great that the words were out before she could stop them. âJohn, I saw the
Barclaycard statement. I didn't mean to. I was tidying up and it fell on the floor. Oh, John, I didn't realise things were so bad.'

The smile died away as she spoke and a hastily assumed expression of surprise and amusement took its place. Nell recognised it and her heart sank.

âPoor Nell. That'll teach you to go poking around in my study. Nothing to worry about. All under control. Bit of a cockup last month but everything will be sorted out in a day or two. Now what about some coffee? I haven't got long.'

Nell stared up at him, longing to believe him, wondering whether she dared mention the bank statement.

âBut what went wrong? Are we â¦ ?' She hesitated. âAre we OK at the bank?'

She waited. Her peace of mind hung on the manner in which he answered the question.

âThe bank?' His little frown of amazement, his chuckle which ridiculed the suggestion, struck fear into Nell's heart. âOf course we are. Why ever not? You really mustn't panic so easily, my darling. Martin told you that everything was fine as long as we don't panic, didn't he? You must just leave it all to us.'

âBut, John.' She couldn't leave it alone and his face grew bleak. âYour Barclaycard's right over its limit. If we're OK at the bank, why have you let it go so far?'

âNell, please!' It was a plea and the compressed lips showed that he only just had himself in hand.

âI'm sorry,' she cried, âit was a shock! I simply can't see why it should be so bad.' She took his hands. âJohn, you must tell me if there's a problem. Please! Let me share things with you.'

âWhy does there have to be a problem?' he demanded and his voice was high and full of fear and resentment. He pulled his hands from her clasp. âWhy must you always assume that I've got it wrong?'

âOh, darling, I don't. I don't I'm sorry. Look, let me make you some coffee.' She turned away from him and went to the kettle.

âIt's too late now.' His voice was still charged with emotion and she feared that he might burst into tears. âI've got to see this man. Oh Christ!'

He ran out, his footsteps hurrying across the hall. Nell stood, clutching the kettle, unable to move. The front door slammed and there was silence.

Six

GUSSIE WOULD NOT HAVE been able to accept Henry's invitation to Nethercombe that summer if it hadn't been for Nell who, in addition to her anxiety about John, was becoming more and more aware of Gussie's stringent economies. When Gussie told her that she had decided not to go, as she didn't feel quite up to the train journey, Nell put two and two together and made the total the price of a return ticket. A solution presented itself almost at once but Nell offered it to Gussie rather casually lest she should suspect and reject it on the grounds of charity. It was quite simple. Nell had decided to go down to the cottage for a week or so. On her way to Porlock Weir she would drop Gussie at Nethercombe and collect her on the return trip. When Nell suggested it, Gussie felt her heart give a little throb of hope.

âBut are you sure that you'll want to be going then?' she asked. âHenry knows that I love to go when all the rhododendrons are in flower. But isn't that rather early for your summer holiday?'

âOh, I like to do a trip to the cottage about then,' said Nell, stirring her tea and avoiding Gussie's penetrating gaze. âThere's hardly anybody about and I enjoy having the place to myself. I can be totally selfish and do as I please. We'll all have a proper holiday together later on, of course. And you'll be company for me on the journeys to and fro.'

âBut surely you don't go that far down?' Gussie looked anxious. âNethercombe is beyond Ashburton. Don't you turn off near Tiverton?'

âIt's hardly any distance,' said Nell firmly. âAnd I'd love to see
Nethercombe after all you've told me about it. And I'd like to meet Henry. And Gillian, of course. Unless you'd rather I didn't?'

âOf course I should love to show you Nethercombe,' said Gussie, distressed that her protests may have been misunderstood and swallowing the bait whole as Nell intended. âAnd Henry would be delighted to meet you. You know it's not that, my dear.'

âThat's splendid, then,' said Nell, before Gussie could reiterate her anxieties. âWe'll make an early start. And I can pick you up again on my way back.'

Gussie was overjoyed: to be taking a friend to Nethercombe, to show Nell the dear old place and introduce her to Henry. She could hardly believe it. She had been schooling herself to overcome the disappointment of refusing, willing herself to write the letter that put an end to all her hopes, and Nell's offer, coming suddenly out of the blue, had the same effect as sunshine after rain. The whole world looked different: shining with possibilities, sparkling with joyous prospects. Even Henry rose to the occasion and wrote to Gussie inviting Nell to lunch if she could stay. It was the icing on the cake.

âAnd You know that it's not really pride, Lord,' Gussie said as she packed her case. âNot really. It's simply that it makes me feel as though I still belong. That I have a tiny share in Nethercombe and that I can make Nell welcome there as though it were my own home. How good You are, Lord. Just when I thought that my visits to Nethercombe were over. How blessed I am. I think I'll put the paisley in, just in case â¦'

Gillian was on the terrace when they arrived. She strolled towards them, smartly casual in expensive cords and a cashmere jersey and obviously curious to see Nell. Her eyes narrowed a little as Nell emerged from the driving seat and Gussie watched with satisfaction as Gillian took in Nell's striking beauty.

âHello.' Nell took Gillian's outstretched hand. âYou must be Gillian.'

âMust I?' Gillian smiled blindingly and turned as Henry came hurrying out of the house. âLook what Gussie's brought us, Henry,' she said.

âI told you she was beautiful,' said Gussie, smiling a little at Henry's reaction.

âSo you did,' said Gillian, taking Henry's arm. âOver and over again.'

Henry released Nell's hand reluctantly. Her beauty overwhelmed him.

âYou see what I mean, Henry? About
Sibylla Palmifera?'

âPlease, Gussie!' cried Nell involuntarily. She blushed painfully and smiled quickly at Henry. âWhat a lovely place this is. The rhododendrons are magnificent. I quite see what Gussie means.'

âWell, of course, I'm prejudiced.' Henry, sensing Nell's embarrassment, tried to help her overcome it. âYou must come and see my new development. We're converting some old barns.'

âGussie's been telling me about it,' said Nell, accepting the change of direction gladly and ignoring Gillian's expressions of bored impatience. âIt sounds very exciting. I should love to see it.'

âBut she'd like some coffee first,' said Gillian, seeing that Henry was about to take Nell at her word and rush her down the drive. âAnd Gussie, too. They've come a long way. I'll go and tell Mrs Ridley.'

âAnd I'll take my suitcase in.' Gussie opened the car door. âNo, no, Henry. I can manage it perfectly well. You stay and talk to Nell.'

Nell leaned her arms on the stone balustrade and gazed out over the countryside and Henry was able to stare at her in wonder and admiration. Her pale profile was cameo-clear, the heavy hair was thickly braided although tendrils escaped to curl about her face, and her tall slender figure was flattered by the black high-necked jersey, tucked into a long skirt of soft corduroy the colour of pine needles. Henry pulled himself together and cleared his throat.

âIt was very good of you to bring Gussie down.'

âNot a bit. It was nice for me to have some company.' Nell continued to stare out, feeling his eyes on her. âIs that the Courtyard? Down in the trees there?'

âYes. Yes, it is.' Henry was distracted as she'd hoped he would be.
âWe've finished the first cottage. Hoping to sell it so as to get the money to do the second one.'

âMy husband sells houses,' said Nell lightly. âThe market's not too good at the moment, is it?'

âNo,' said Henry flatly. âIt isn't. Simon says we may have missed the boat.'

âSimon?'

âSimon Spaders is the architect. He's made a really good job. You'll see.

âCoffee!' called Gillian. âToo cold outside. Mrs Ridley's put it in the study.' She smiled at Nell as they came inside. âWant to come upstairs first?'

âOh, yes please,' said Nell gratefully.

âYou start pouring, Henry.' Gillian headed for the stairs, Nell in tow. âWe shan't be long.'

Gillian was nowhere in sight when Nell came out into the corridor again. A little further along a door stood ajar and Nell could hear someone within. She could just see Gillian inside, moving to and fro, humming to herself. Tentatively she pushed the door a little wider and Gillian nodded to her to come in.

âWant to tidy up a bit?' she asked and Nell, who had left her bag in the car, indicated her empty hands. âOh, you can use my stuff,' said Gillian carelessly. She watched as Nell approached the dressing table and made a show of tidying her hair. âWhy don't you stay on for a day or two? Do you have to rush away?'

Nell stared at her in surprise through the glass. âStay on?'

âWhy not? It would be fun to have you here. We could get up a bit of a party.'

âWell â¦' Nell was nonplussed.

âWhy not?' asked Gillian again. âGussie would be pleased. She could do her Lady Bountiful thing. You know. Pretending Nethercombe is hers. And the way that Henry was looking at you, I can see he'd be only too pleased.'

Nell turned from the glass. She felt uncomfortable. âIt's very kind of you but I don't think I could. I've made arrangements with the girl who keeps an eye on the cottage for us. She's expecting me.'

Gillian shrugged. She looked disappointed. âCouldn't you telephone her?'

Nell was surprised at her insistence. âIt would be too difficult, I'm afraid. She'll have got milk and things in for me and probably lit a fire. Perhaps on the way back â¦'

âOh yes.' Gillian seized on the idea, recovering her good humour. Things had been very dull of late, money being rather tight, and it was simply too good an opportunity to miss. After all, Henry could hardly refuse if she made the suggestion in front of Nell. âBrilliant. Gives me time to plan. You could stay for a few nights and we'll have a bit of a shindig. I'll get some friends over. Great! Now, when would that be? Let's fix it before we go down, shall we?'

Nell drove away from Nethercombe feeling confused and anxious. When they had got back to the study, Gillian announced that Nell would be staying on the way back and that they had planned to have a party. Nell noticed that Henry's first reaction was one of dismay, although his good manners had instantly covered his lapse and he made it clear that he would be delighted to see Nell again for a longer time. Gussie was obviously thrilled, Gillian looked very pleased with herself and the rest of the visit had gone smoothly and pleasantly. Nell, however, felt as though she'd been manipulated although she couldn't quite see how. Presently she shook her head. It was no use worrying about it now. She turned on to the A38, pushed her foot down on the accelerator and headed back the way she had come.

JOHN PUT DOWN THE telephone receiver and let out an exclamation of despair.

âWhat now?' Martin coming through from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee looked resigned.

âThat was Mrs Morrison. They won't be able to proceed with the
purchase of the house in Lansdowne Terrace. Their own sale has just fallen through.' He put his elbows on the desk and buried his head in his hands. âOh Christ!'

âThat's a bit of a bummer.' Martin stood a mug on John's desk.

He was getting used to John's explosive outbursts, his plunges into despair, and deliberately maintained a placid exterior in the hope of keeping him calm. It was both touching and terrifying to see how readily John turned to him for comfort, clinging to Martin's optimism and positive thinking as a drowning man clings to the wreckage.

âThat's a bit of an understatement, isn't it?' John stared up at him. âWe needed that commission to pay the rent. And what about the telephone bill?'

âI know, I know.' Martin's tone was deliberately soothing. âWe'll just have to stall them a bit longer, that's all. You can't lay your hands on anything, I suppose?'

âYou know I can't.' John's face was strained and his jaw moved as though he were chewing something. âI've told you. We're broke.'

âOK.'

Martin looked away from the desperation in John's face and wandered over to the window. He stood looking out into the busy street. It had been a mistake to take John into partnership. He had neither the cool head nor the ready wits that were necessary in business when the chips were down. Martin, sipping at his coffee, stuck his free hand in his pocket and jingled his loose change. They shouldn't have taken over the new premises; that had been a serious error of judgement. The timing was all wrong and things were getting uncomfortable. The bank, the company who leased the photocopier, the landlord, British Telecom, all of them were on his back. He whistled a little tune between his teeth.

âWhat are we going to do?'

John was at his shoulder. Martin smiled at him, considering and rejecting various responses. It was no good panicking him, he'd learned that much.

âTelephone's priority. Got to keep them sweet. No phone, no business. Why don't you pop out for a quick bite while I make a few phone calls? Sort something out?'

He could see John willing himself to believe that things could be sorted out and continued to smile at him reassuringly.

âI'll drink my coffee first.' John turned back to his desk and Martin allowed his face muscles to relax. âCan't afford any lunch anyway. Our own rent's due. God knows what I'm going to do.'

âCould Nell help?'

âHelp? How?' John stared at him. âNell hasn't got any money.'

âNo. I just meant â¦ Well, perhaps she could get a job or something? '

John slumped down in his chair. âShe's suggested it but she's not really qualified to do anything and jobs are thin on the ground at the moment. I've always been against it, to be honest. I like to think that I can support my own wife and she doesn't know how desperate things are. I simply can't tell her. You know she didn't want me to come outside?'

âYou told me.' Martin rose on his toes and dropped back on his heels once or twice. His face was thoughtful, his mind busy. âWhat about that cottage of yours? On Exmoor, isn't it? Would you get much for that? Assuming that you could find a buyer.'

âWhat? You mean sell it?'

âWhy not? Help to keep us going till the tide turns.'

âIt's out of the question!' John stared at Martin. âNot on! Nell would kill me. It's all we've got left.'

BOOK: The Courtyard

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