The Ivy Tree (19 page)

‘You said it, honey, not me. Go ahead; I'm listening.'

‘It's true, though, that I did want to talk to you about altering our plans. No, wait, Con; the point is, things have changed.'

‘Changed? How? Since when?'

‘Since I had my talk with Grandfather down here this evening.'

‘I . . . thought there had been something.' I heard his breath go out. ‘I told you, you looked like death. I thought it was that fool of a mare.'

‘No.'

‘Well?'

‘The point is, Con, that all this may have been for nothing. It shook me, rather. I – I think he's going to leave Whitescar to you anyway.'

‘That's what he said.'

‘Almost. I'll swear that's what he meant. Did you know that his lawyer, his name's Isaacs, isn't it? – is coming down here on Friday?'

‘No, I didn't know.' He sounded dazed. His voice was blurred at the edges.

‘Well, he is. Julie gets here on Wednesday, and Mr Isaacs comes on Friday. Grandfather didn't say anything definite, but he hinted like mad. I've a feeling he wants to have some sort of family gathering on his birthday, and he's asked the lawyer here before that, so it's a fairly reasonable guess that it's to be about his Will. He said, “I want to get things fixed up”.'

He moved sharply, and the gate creaked. ‘Yes, but this
is
only a guess! What about Whitescar? What did he actually say?'

‘Not very much, but – Con, it's all right. I wouldn't have mentioned it to you, if I wasn't sure. I'll swear that's what he means to do. Oh, no, he didn't quite commit himself, not in so many words, even to me. But he was as definite as he'd ever be.'

‘How?'

‘Well, he reminded me first of all that Whitescar had always been promised to Annabel. “It should have been your father's, and then it would have been yours.”'

‘“Would have been?”' he asked, sharply.

‘Yes. Then he began to praise you. You'd been a son to him, he couldn't have done without you – oh, all sorts of things. He really does recognise your place here, Con. Then he said, would it be right if I were allowed simply to walk back home, and claim Whitescar over your head. Yes, over your head. “Would you call that fair? I'm hanged if I would!” Those were his very words.'

‘My God, if you're right!' he breathed. ‘And Julie? Did he say anything about her?'

‘Nothing you could be clear about. He wouldn't even say definitely that he intended to tell us all on the twenty-second, and when I tried to pin him down – asked flat out if he was re-making his Will in your favour – he just wouldn't give a straight answer. I couldn't press it, you know what he's like. He seems to like to keep people guessing, doesn't he?'

‘He does, damn him!'

He spoke with such sudden, concentrated viciousness, that I stopped with my cigarette half way to my lips. I was reminded sharply, shockingly, of the charming way he had talked to the old man that afternoon. Oddly enough, I thought that both attitudes were equally genuine.

I said gently: ‘The thing is, Con, don't you see, he's old? I think he
minds
not being able to do things the way he used to. He's always been – well, I've gathered he's a pretty domineering type, and now his property and his money's the only kind of power he's got left. That's why he won't commit himself; I don't think he realises just how unfair he's being to younger people . . . to you, anyway. He just thinks – quite rightly – that it's his property, and he'll play Old Harry with it if he wants to. But he's made up his mind now. He must have, since he's sent for Mr Isaacs.'

I could see Con's cigarette smouldering unheeded between his fingers. He hadn't stirred. I got the impression that only the essentials of what I'd been saying had got through.

He said painfully, as if the readjustment of ideas was somehow a physical effort: ‘If he's made a decision, it's happened since you got here . . . or rather, since he knew you were coming back. He went to the telephone soon after Lisa broke the news to him. I remember her telling me so. It must have been to get hold of Isaacs.' He lifted his head. ‘My God, but you must have got this the wrong way round! Why should he send for him now,
except to cut me out and include you in?
'

‘He isn't doing that. Be sure of that. I tell you, he kept asking me, harping on it almost, if I thought it was fair for me to walk straight home after eight years and expect to take up as I left off. That was almost the very phrase he used. Yes, he asked flat out if I thought I ought to be allowed to walk straight home and scoop Whitescar from under your nose, after all the work you'd put into it.'

‘Did he, by God?' A long breath, then he laughed, a sharp exultant crack of sound. ‘And what did you say?'

‘Well, I thought it would be less trouble if I just said no. I may say he seemed surprised.'

‘And well he might! Annabel would never have parted with a penny piece to me, and what's more, she'd have seen that he didn't either!'

‘Well,' I said, ‘she could have learned sense in eight years, couldn't she? Found out what really mattered most?'

‘You call that sense? Letting her rights go, for want of a fight?'

‘“Rights?” Annabel's? What about Mr Winslow's? Hasn't he as much “right” to leave his own property any way he pleases?'

‘No.'

‘Oh? Well, I'm not breaking any lances with you over Annabel. You've staked a claim of your own, and I won't argue with that, either. In any case, it looks very much as if you're going to get what you want.'

‘Do you know something?' said Con slowly. ‘You're a very much nicer person than Annabel ever was.'

‘Good heavens, why on earth? Because I encouraged Grandfather to give you the poor girl's property.'

‘No. Because I honestly believe you want me to have it. And not just for the “cut” you'll stand to get, either.'

‘Don't you believe it. I'm as mercenary as hell,' I said cheerfully.

He ignored that. ‘You said she “might have learned sense in eight years”, and found out what really mattered. What really does – to you?'

I knew he couldn't see my face, but all the same, I looked away. I said shortly: ‘I'm a woman. That should answer it.'

Through the ensuing silence I heard a horse's steady cropping, now quite close at hand. At the bottom of the pasture the river glimmered. Something drifted across like a shadow, shimmering at the edges, shapeless and quiet as a ghost. The yearling, moving up nearer, beside his mother.

I had just had time to realise how Con could have interpreted my last remark, when he spoke again, mercifully ignoring it, and coming sharply back to the matter in hand.

‘And there really was nothing more about Julie?'

‘Nothing.' I dropped my cigarette, and trod it out. ‘Well, there it is. I think it's true. For one thing, he told me not to tell you anything about it.'

I caught the gleam of a grin: ‘Did he now?'

I said tartly: ‘And don't just accept it as if you expected me to let him down automatically. I wouldn't have told you if – if I hadn't wanted to ask you to change our . . . plans.'

He didn't follow this up. He seemed to have a truly remarkable power of only attending to what he wanted to. He was saying thoughtfully: ‘I can't quite understand it, if it's true. Ironic, isn't it, how our little conspiracy has turned out? I find you, import you into Whitescar at great trouble and some risk, expose myself and my ambitions to your uneasy female conscience . . . and all for nothing. He'd have left it to me all along.' His cigarette went fizzing down into the damp grass. ‘Funny, you'd have expected it to act the other way. I mean, it seems absurd to have kept you in his Will all these years, in spite of me, only to cut you out when you actually do turn up. I – well, I don't get it. I wish I understood.'

‘I think I do. I think – how shall I put it? – he's been keeping a sort of dream alive all these years, almost in spite of what he suspected to be the truth. You've all insisted that Annabel was dead, and, being who he is, and also because he must know you wanted Whitescar, he's simply got stubborn about it. He's hung on to his dream and his belief out of sheer obstinacy, even though probably in his heart he's known it wasn't true . . . And perhaps, partly, to keep some sort of hold over you, too. Yes, I think that might have come into it . . .' I paused. ‘Well, now I've come back; he finds he was right all along. But also, mark you, he finds himself facing the
reality
of the dream that he's been using as a threat to stop you getting too sure of yourself. He's kept telling you that he'll leave the place to Annabel, come what may. Well, now she's here, having pretty well demonstrated that she doesn't give much of a damn for Whitescar, disappearing for eight years without a trace. You, on the other hand, have proved yourself the obvious legatee. So he's had to make his mind up in a hurry; and he's going to do, at last, what he knows he ought to have done all along.'

‘You may be right. It's illogical enough to be likely.'

‘What's more,' I said, ‘there's one thing I'm pretty sure of.'

‘What's that?'

‘I think you've been a residuary beneficiary all along. Maybe with Julie, maybe not. I think that, underneath it all, he's believed Annabel was dead. He's obstinate enough to have left her named as his heir, but it's my belief he's expected you to inherit any time these last few years. But my coming home has given him a jolt. He's realised he's got to do something quickly, and make it stick.'

‘You might be right. My God, you might be right.'

‘I don't see why not.'

‘If only we knew where Julie comes in.'

‘Yes, Julie's the unknown quantity. Did you hear when I told you he sent for her? He did invite her, as Lisa thought. He wrote to her. Did you know?'

‘No.' I heard the twist to his voice. ‘You see? You've been back here – twelve hours, is it? and, claim or no claim, he tells you more than he'd tell me in twelve months.'

‘Con, please. Don't tear yourself up so.'

I spoke quite without thinking. Unexpectedly, he laughed, and his voice lightened. ‘All right, darling, what the hell. We'll wait and see, and pray you're right. And irony or no, I still say you're my lucky star!'

‘I don't know about that. If I'd never come, your luck would have still been in. You'd have got what you wanted the way you've got everything else; just as you said, with your two hands.' I half turned towards him. In spite of myself, my voice tightened. ‘Con . . . you still haven't heard what I came to say.'

‘What else? Oh, lord, you're still upset, and now you feel it's all been for nothing. Is that it? Or are you beginning to worry in case I get what I want without you, and don't keep my side of the bargain? Relax, honey. I'll keep it, never fear. You'll get your cut, just the same.' I heard the smile in his voice. ‘I'd not trust you else, sweetie, you could do me too much damage.'

‘No, I'm not worried about that. I'd do you no harm. I only want to go. I told you, didn't I?'

‘Yes. Cut right out. Leave, straight away.'

He said blankly: ‘You're – crazy!'

‘No. It's obvious that I'm not needed any more, so—'

‘Now look—'

‘No, Con, listen to me, please! It's true that you
might
have got all this without my coming at all, or, on the other hand, my coming may have forced the decision on Grandfather. We weren't to know which way he'd decide. The game was worth playing, as far as it went. But now it isn't necessary. We've seen that. And since I'm not needed here any more, I really would rather go. No, please don't be angry; you know I'd never have let you down if I'd been needed, but I'm not. I – I want to go. Don't ask me to explain any more, I can't, you'd only laugh at me for – for scruples or something, and I couldn't take it, not tonight. Won't you just accept the fact—?'

‘I'll accept nothing!' We were back where we had been, with enmity sharp and open between us. ‘If it's your conscience that's bothering you, for heaven's sake forget it! You've just found out that you're not robbing anyone after all – you're not even going to have to hand Annabel's share of Whitescar over to me! You came into this with your eyes wide open, and if this is the way you intend to react after one day, then I can only say it's turned out better for you than you deserve!' He paused, and added, more pleasantly: ‘Now relax, for pity's sake. You're hurting nobody, and the old man's as pleased as a dog with two tails to have you here.'

‘I know, but—'

‘And how could you walk out now? Tell me that. What d'you think people – let alone Mr Winslow – would say? What possible excuse could there be, short of the truth?'

‘It's simple enough. I've only to go to Grandfather tonight and tell him that I came back to see him, but that on second thoughts I can see how silly it was of me to come . . . because of you, I mean. After all, Con, he can't expect me to find it easy to face you, can he? He'll accept that; he might even think I'm sulking because of his decision to leave Whitescar to you.'

I waited a moment, but he didn't speak. I turned to face the gate, gripping the top bar hard with both hands. ‘Con, it's best, really it is. It'll work. The luck's running our way; today's proved it. We'll think up what to say to Grandfather, then I'll go, tomorrow. I can stay in Newcastle till Wednesday – it'd look queer if I didn't stay to meet Julie – and I can come for Grandfather's birthday. Then I'll go to London. I can always come back if – if he's ill or anything.' My voice was going out of control again. I stopped and took a steadying little breath that caught somehow in my throat, and must have sounded like a sob. ‘You – you can't want me here. Con. Can't you see, if I go, it'll do you nothing but
good
? If I go straight away again, now, that'll clinch it as far as Grandfather's concerned, surely? He'd never leave me anything at all, not even money. You'd get the lot, you and Julie.'