The Red Cliffs (8 page)

The kitchen door opened.

“
Alison!
”
he exclaimed.
“
Well, of all the
...”
She looked at him, and he had the grace to be abashed, embarrassed.

“
Gosh,
”
he said,
“
this has torn it. Why didn
’
t you let me know you were coming, and I
’
d have had all this cleaned up.
”

“
Do you call this,
”
she swept her hand round the disordered kitchen,
“
keeping an
eye on my house?
Don
’
t you think you
’
ve overstepped the bounds a bit?
”

“
I know, I know,
”
he said.
“
I can see just what it looks like to you, Alison, but honestly, I have an explanation.
”

“
I can
’
t imagine how you
’
re going to justify this.
”

“
I know it was an unpardonable liberty. My landlady
’
s son walked in one night, unannounced, out of the blue, home from Australia. He
’
d emigrated but couldn
’
t seem to get on out there. Well, I was in his room and I had to get out; and all the rooms I looked at were either beyond the pale or too darned expensive. And suddenly it occurred to me that you wouldn
’
t mind if I spent a night or two here.
”

“
And you
’
ve been here ever since,
”
said Alison.

“
No, I
’
ve been away on a couple of jobs. And I
’
ve been laying down some concrete paths for Mrs. Simms at Foxhole Farm, and she put me up there. It was just that I didn
’
t get around to clearing up, when I was here. But I
’
ll do it now, Alison. You go and sit do
w
n and I
’
ll have the place to rights in no time.
”

Alison went on cleaning the sink until she had it spotless and shining.

“
Now those dishes,
”
she said.
“
Bring them over, Roger.
”

He obeyed with alacrity, but when he would have started drying them she sent him to the linen cupboard for clean cloths. He emptied ash trays, carried the binette outside and emptied it, swept the kitchen floor. When the kitchen was back to some semblance of order, he stood before her and smiled down at her.

“
Still angry with me, Alison?
”

“
Of course,
”
she said, but her indignation had all disappeared.

“
Don
’
t be angry.
”
His voice was persuasive and charming.
“
I honestly didn
’
t think you would mind. Tom wouldn
’
t have minded—he often put me up here.
”

“
You should have asked. You should have kept it clean.
”

“
I know, Alison. Mea culpa. But you do forgive me, don
’
t you?
”

She looked at his laughing dark eyes and she could not keep the smile from the co
rn
ers of her mouth.

“
You don
’
t deserve it,
”
she said.

“
Which would make your forgiveness all the more noble.
”

“
All right, I forgive you this time.
”

“
I won
’
t do it again,
”
he said with mock humility.
“
You won
’
t have the chance. I
’
m here to stay.
”

“
Good. That
’
s splendid. I couldn
’
t hear nicer news than that.
”
Suddenly he was serious.
“
You
’
re a sport, Alison,
”
he said.
“
Thank you.
”
And held out his hand to her.

She offered hers and they shook hands, but when she would have taken hers away again, he held it tightly in his own; and an odd embarrassment filled Alison, almost an unease, and as if it communicated itself to him, he released her hand quickly, and turned away.

“
May I stay to supper?
”
he asked.
“
I
’
ve brought a chicken with me.
”

“
It will take too long to cook. I
’
m starving,
”
she said.

“
It
’
s cooked. Mrs. Simms gave it to me. She
’
s very pleased with me at the moment. She thinks I made a good job of her paths for a very reasonable price.
”

“
Oh, that reminds me. You
’
ve made a good job of my path, too, to the garage. You must tell me
‘
what I owe you for that.
”

“
Set it against my accommodation here,
”
he smiled.
“
I
’
ve fixed you up an incinerator, too. The mighty Neil slipped up on that one, there was nowhere to dispose of rubbish. It
’
s tucked away behind the garden shed and greenhouse, so you won
’
t be aware of it.
”

“
Thank you,
”
she said, and smiled too.
“
I shouldn
’
t be angry with you. You mean well.
”

“
Then may I stay to supper?
”
he asked.

He stayed. It did not occur to Alison until later to wonder why he had said that Neil slipped up on the matter of the incinerator. Why not Tom?
Surely it was Tom
’
s responsibility to find somewhere to dispose of rubbish.

Supper was a lively meal. Roget set himself to amuse her, and succeeded. Soon she had quite forgiven his intrusion into her house. He was obviously somewhat piratical by nature as well as in appearance, and if one liked out-of-the-ordinary people, one must expect them to do out-of-the-ordinary things. And few men were house-proud. Tom himself would have created, a like chaos in the kitchen. She had taken him unawares and so discovered that chaos. If she had let him know she was coming, as he had asked her to do, no doubt everything would, have been in order. But then would she have known of his stay at all? She doubted it. This was what Lucy undoubtedly had in mind when she asked her small favour.

When he said it was time for him to go, Alison asked where he would spend the night.

“
I expect Mrs. Simms will find me a bed for a night or two,
”
he said.
“
Is there anything I can do for you before I go?
”

There were one or two heavy things in the car which she asked him to unload for her. Then he went upstairs to gather a few of his possessions before leaving. Alison went to the door with him.

“
Don
’
t forget to call on me for any jobs that need a man
’
s strong arm,
”
he said.

“
That
’
s very kind of you, Roger,
”
she said.

“
I
’
ve enjoyed myself this evening. And it was sweet of you not to be mad with me. You
’
re a grand girl, Alison.
”

She looked up at him, smiling, a light reply on her lips that was never spoken, for his dark eyes were looking at her in such an intense fashion, holding her own to the point where once more the faintest unease beset Alison. She turned to the door and opened it.

“
I
’
ve had a long day,
”
she said.
“
Goodnight, Roger.
”

“
Goodnight, Alison.
”

He was gone. She saw his bicycle light come on, and he called another goodnight before he rode away along the drive. She turned back into the house, bolting the door at the top and bottom, and made sure that all the windows except that in her bedroom were also closed and bolted. She carried the coffee cups into the kitchen and rinsed them, and then made her way upstairs.

She had always been a little frightened of the dark, and she was not at all sure how she would take to living along. The high wind outside was responsible for any number of strange creakings, rustlings and rushing noises on this night, and she hurried her preparations for bed. As she walked to the bathroom, her foot touched something on the floor and she saw that it was a crumpled handkerchief. She picked it up, thinking she had just dropped it, but it was not hers and she did not recognise it. Her first immediate suspicion was that Roger had had a girl here, for the handkerchief was small and finely embroidered; then she told herself that Neil
’
s enmity and Lucy
’
s suspicions were affecting her own attitude to Roger. This might even be Lucy
’
s handkerchief, left lying on the floor since their long
-
ago weekend here. Or the friend who had helped Roger clean the house (though it gave little evidence of having been cleaned at all) had been a girl harmlessly occupied here and unknowingly leaving her handkerchief behind.

Roger was almost her only companion in those first days. He came to see how she was getting on, and stayed to do any small job she had for him. He came on the first Saturday afternoon to help her clear out accumulated lumber in the workshop, and she was very grateful, knowing that she would hardly have been able to tackle it by herself. She
wore a pair of tapered black trews, a thick red
sweater and a red silk scarf over her dark hair; and Roger said that it was no doubt meant to be a businesslike outfit but that he, for one, found it vastly distracting.

They worked like Trojans. Roger started a bonfire and Alison carried stuff to it. Roger moved the heavy things and Alison swept behind him. Roger cleaned larger tools and Alison swept down cobwebs and arranged her beloved chisels in their rack on the bench.

‘“
They look uncommonly dangerous tools,
”
he commented.

“
And I
’
m uncommonly handy with them,
”
she smiled.

“
Is that a threat?
”

“
Be warned,
”
she
said
,
but
smiled.

“
What do you want so many for?
”

“
A
ll
possible sizes. I carve in wood.
”

“
What do you carve?
”

“
Anything. Figures and busts, bowls of all kinds, a
n
ything that wood lends itself to.
”

“
Is that what your wood is for?
”
He nodded to a neat pile of blocks in the corner, blocks of all sizes and all different kinds of wood.

“
Yes. I save them up. Whenever I see a piece that is interesting, that will lend itself to a nice shape, I add it to my collection
.
My brother sends me wood even from Australia. Kinds I wouldn
’
t get here. One day I
’
ll find time to use them.
”

“
Tom didn
’
t tell me you were so talented. What do you do with the carvings?
”

“
Give them to my friends, sell them to the big stores, and one or two have even been displayed in galleries in Bond Street.
”