The Red Cliffs (18 page)

“
I
’
m in an awful hurry, Roger. Do excuse me.
”
But his hand was on her arm.

“
Alison, don
’
t rush away.
”

“
I have to, Roger. I
’
ve rushed out from the office, but I
’
m very busy.
”

“
You can spare a moment. Deeprose won
’
t eat you. Alison, I
’
ve been wanting to see you ever since that ghastly Saturday. But I didn
’
t dare to show my face. Alison, I
’
ve been wanting to apologise to you
.
I have no idea at all what actually took place,
”
(This was not true. Roger remembered everything, but thought it more diplomatic to pretend to have forgotten),
“
but I do remember that you were terribly offended. I would do anything sooner than offend you, Alison. Will you forgive me?
”

“
I can
’
t talk now, Roger. It will have to be some other time, but I must admit it would be very hard to forgive you.
”

“
I can
’
t forgive myself. It was exceptional—you know how it is, we had had a lucky coup and were celebrating.
”

“
In any case, I had told you before that that it was no good your hoping to be anything more than a friend. Look, I do have a job, I must go now, Roger. Goodbye.
”

She was gone before he could detain her again, but he thought she had not been as angry
as he had
expected; he thought he might yet get round her; if he were very careful and kept off the bottle. He had seen Combe Russet almost as his: which would have had the double attraction of making him a man of property and
i
nfuriating Neil Edgerton. That Saturday had been a serious setback, but perhaps I everything was not yet lost.

Alison made her purchases and burned back to the office. When she reached home that evening,
Corinne had made the house beautiful with flowers and
had
opened the french windows of both the living room
a
nd the sun room to the terrace. She had arranged chairs both outside and in; and her dishes of savouries were so delicious that Alison started on them immediately.

“
You leave them alone,
”
said Corinne.
“
I have some sandwiches and tea for you, so that you won
’
t
be drinking on an empty stomach. Come and have them on the terrace—it
’
s so beautiful out there.
”
It was so beautiful that Alison wished there were no party to put an end to the peace, so quiet that she could have fallen asleep in her chair; but she had to go upstairs and change her clothes, prepared to talk to people for about two hours. She wore a slim, white, off-the-shoulder dress and high-heeled white shoes without stockings, her only ornament a large brooch of sparkling blue s
tones that emphasized the blue
of her eyes.

Many of the guests found the paved terrace attractive that evening. People were going in and out continually and several times a couple held a lengthy conversation out there, Bonnie with Neil,
Corinne with one of the naval men, and then, surprisingly, Neil with Alison. It was getting cool there by then. Neil suggested that it might be too cool, glancing at the bare white shoulders, but Alison said that she liked it. The others seemed to prefer the warmth of the living room. A hum of talk came from it, but outside the man and woman were quiet, looking out over cliffs and sea from which the colour was slowly draining. It was Alison who spoke at last.
“
It
’
s so heavenly here,
”
she said, almost on a sigh.

“
Yes,
”
he said.
“
I
’
ve always liked this place.
”

“
Of course, it belonged to you.
”

“
To my family. But it didn
’
t always look like this. It was always pretty, but old-fashioned. No
sanitation, no amenities, more rooms but smaller. Two real country people lived here, employees of my father. They had five children, ah older than I, who grew up and went away; but the place fascinated Evelyn and myself because it was always so full of life. When I was home from school for holidays, I was always coming down here: the eldest had a new motor bike and I could get pillion rides, or they would go off to summer fairs and take me with them; and on Saturday mornings Mrs. Sprigg had her baking, and there was always something special for me. I shall always remember her kitchen table on baking mornings, piled high with cakes and tarts and splits.
”

“
What happened to the people?
”
asked Alison, not quite able to associate this cool and lovely house with a large family of Spriggs.

“
The children all went away, married into other villages or went to towns for work. Mr. Sprigg died first—Mrs. Sprigg years afterwards. Right to the end she baked her own bread and if I called on her she would give me one of her small loaves. She died shortly before I had it done up for Evelyn.
”

Alison was silent, because, for the first time, she realised what this place meant to Neil. She had a vision, only a glimpse but a vivid one, of what he had meant it to be for Evelyn and Evelyn
’
s children. The kind of happy home it had been for the Spriggs. A strange feeling of guilt assailed her and kept her silent.

“
How is my carved figure coming along?
”
he asked her.

She was glad of a change of subject.

“
Oh, it
’
s finished,
”
she said.

“
What—and you didn
’
t let me know?
”

“
It
’
s only
j
us
t
finished.
”

“
May I see it?
”

“
Now? Yes, if you would like to. It
’
s in the workshop.
”

They turned to wa
lk
together, in the darkening evening, towards the workshop. Neil opened one half of the wide door and they went into the dim
interior. There was a pleasant, nostalgic smell from the wood, the shavings and sawdust. Alison switched on the light and blinked in the sudden glare. The finished carving for Neil stood on the bench, and he went to it at once, standing quite still to study it. He did not speak for some time, and suddenly her confidence in it vanished, for she was afraid he did not like it now that it was completed.

“
It
’
s a beautiful piece of work,
”
he said at last.
“
I like it immensely. I can
’
t tell you how pleased I shall be to have it. Thank you, Alison.
”

“
Thank you,
”
she said.

“
You must send me a bill for it.
”

“
You haven
’
t asked how much it will be.
”

“
I know you won
’
t take advantage of me; and whatever it is, it will be worth it.
”
Suddenly he caught sight of the head of a young man at the far end of the work bench, and his attention was immediately arrested.
“
Your brother,
”
he said.

“
Yes,
”
she said.
“
That is Tom.
”

He looked at the carved head, and now, after the first recognition of an extraordinary likeness, it was like looking at a stranger; for, in this face, he saw nothing but lovable characteristics, the closed mouth curved in a compassionate smile of great sweetness, the clear brow, on which the hair waved forward, an expression that was almost innocent. Perhaps, thought Neil, Tom in his youth had looked like that, but that was long ago, and the charm had turned, sour, the sweetness had become peevishness. Somewhere, along the years, he had lost himself. He said:
“
I never saw him like that.
”

“
No,
”
said Alison, and her voice had taken on a flatness, something inimical and withdrawn.
“
You never saw him as he was.
”

“
I didn
’
t say that,
”
said Neil sharply.
“
That
’
s twisting my words.
”
And there it was between them, the hostility that only waited the opportunity to break out.
“
It would be truer
to say that
I
never saw him as you saw him.
”

“
And only you, of course, could see clearly,
”
she said, sarcasm putting an edge on her voice.

“
I should say at least that you couldn
’
t,
”
said Neil.
“
Perhaps you were blinded by love, but that doesn
’
t make the blindness any less complete.
”

“
Perhaps you were blinded by jealousy,
”
she retorted.

“
Jealousy?
”
For a moment, he was puzzled.
“
Jealousy? Of what should I be
j
ealous?
”
They looked at each other angrily, their anger seeking any excuse to vent itself.
“
Do you mean of Evelyn
’
s happiness? Certainly I was jealous of it in the sense that I wanted to guard it, to keep it unimpaired.
”

“
You never gave it a chance,
”
she cried.

“
You don
’
t know what you
’
re talking about,
”
h
e answered.

They were on the brink of a quarrel. Alison hated to quarrel. Already she was trembling. She forced herself to be silent until she had steadied again.

“
It
’
s no good,
”
she said.
“
On this we shall never agree. Shall we go back now?
”
She was still looking at the head of the younger Tom, and the anger had gone out of her and was replaced by sadness.
“
It was an extraordinary likeness,
”
she said.
“
I
’
m not always good at getting a real likeness, I don
’
t always get the feel of a person. But that was exactly right from start to finish.
”
She was trying to make amends for her anger, and after a moment he made a difficult response.

“
If you knew,
”
he said,
“
all the circumstances of that marriage, how I saw Evelyn changing from day to day
...”

“
Please,
”
she interrupted,
“
it
’
s no good our talking about this. Do you want to take your figure tonight?
”

“
No, I
’
ll pick it up tomorrow. Corinne will be here?
”

“
Yes.
”

They turned to leave the workshop, when his eye alighted on something else.
“
What is this?
”
he asked.

“
Oh, that
’
s Joseph,
”
she said, glad of a complete change of subject.
“
He is the first of the figures for a Christmas crib. The vicar has a very persuasive
t
ongue. He wants a crib for
his
church, but of course he wants a wonderful one. Nothing ordinary will do for him. And in a moment of weakness I agreed to make one for him. I
’
m really cross with myself, because I ought to be working for money to help ran the house; but
all
the same I
’
m getting nearly as enthusiastic as he is. Joseph is rather good, isn
’
t he? And I have the th
r
ee kings worked out. I shall probably get round to the Madonna last of all; by then I shall know exactly how I want her. The vicar and I have different ideas about her: he sees her very traditional, but I don
’
t see her as an Italian girl of the Renaissance or an Anglo-Saxon type. I want her Middle-Eastern, as of course she would be. Look, I
’
ve made some preliminary sketches
...”
She turned back to the bench and opened a rough drawer beneath it.
“
But pe
r
haps you
’
re not interested,
”
she said.
“
Shall we go back to the party?
”