Then She Fled Me (14 page)

“
I loved him,
”
she replied simply.
“
He was always fondest of Kathy but I was the closest to him. He left me Dun Rury, you see.
”

He had finished his ham and eggs and was smoking a cigarette, watching her quietly as she sipped her milk.
“
Did your sister mind that?
”

“
Kathy? Oh, no. Kathy would like me to sell the place as Uncle B. advised. We can
’
t really afford to keep it up, you see.
”

“
Wouldn
’
t that have been better than having your home invaded by strangers?
”

“
No,
”
she said, and her eyes grew bright.
“
I will never sell Dun Rury as long as there
’
s breath in my body. My father loved it.
”

“
You
’
re very single-minded, I see.
”

“
Yes, I suppose I am. Can
’
t you understand that?
”

His eyes softened. Oh, yes, he could understand. Had it not been the cause of his own bitter defeat?

“
Sometimes, Sarah,
”
he said unemotionally,
“
one can be too single-minded. It doesn
’
t always lead to happiness. One should never put all one
’
s eggs in one basket.
”

“
Did you do that?
”

“
In a sense. I allowed my career to push out all personal relationships. Now I
’
m left with nothing.
”

She looked puzzled.

“
But how can you be left with nothing when you have your career to go back to?
”
she asked.

H
e was silent for so long that she felt she had intruded, then he said quite quietly:

“
I shall never play again.
”

“
Oh
...”
she said on a long sigh, then her shocked eyes went to his hands. He held them up in the light of the candle, flexing the fingers deliberately.

“
They look all right, don
’
t they?
”
he said.
“
Not a scar, no disfigurement, yet the virtue has gone out of them.
”

“
But why?
”
she whispered.

“
An accident. My hands were badly injured. They do marvels with plastic surgery these days, but they can
’
t replace the one thing that matters.
”

“
But surely massage—treatment—I don
’
t know about these things, but isn
’
t it just a matter of time?
”

“
I
’
ve had all the treatment
that
was possible in the last two years. It only resulted in a breakdown. When nerves have been affected nothing can be done. My hands are good enough now for everyday purposes but that
’
s not good enough for a pianist.
”

She sat there, very quiet, staring at the candle flame and remembering the way he rubbed his fingers, and the trick he sometimes had of looking at his hands as if they did not belong to him.

“
You came here to hide,
”
she said at last.

He looked surprised.

“
Perhaps. More consciously to try and readjust myself, I think. Li
k
e you I find solitude helps.
”

“
And the book
is
a stop-gap as I said
?”

His eyes rested on her for a moment.

“
Yes, that was quick of you. The book was commissioned through my agent. I imagine he thought it would take my mind off other things.
”

But Sarah was not so sure. How would it feel listening to your own records and knowing that those same hands were forever mute?

“
You should go,
”
she said,
“
to St. Patrick
’
s Well, where I was today.
”

His old harsh manner returned at once.

“
What! Dip my hands in the water and expect a miracle?
”

“
Not that sort of miracle,
”
she said gently.
“
But there are others. St. Patrick
’
s a great boy for miracles. I
’
ll take you there myself one day.
”

She had forgotten that he might be leaving them soon, and he smiled faintly on her dark head as she stooped and scrabbled for her shoes.

“
A very odd evening,
”
he said.
“
Now, if you
’
ll be so good as to find me a candle, I
’
ll go to bed.
”

She told Aunt Em and Kathy the next morning at breakfast how Adrian had so surprisingly cooked ham and eggs for her by the light of a candle, a
n
d they were dumb with astonishment.

“
Well, fancy!
”
Aunt Em said at last.
“
You would never have thought he could even boil a kettle, would you? What an extraordinary thing to do when normally he never
ventures out of his room and just rings bells. Did he say
if he was stopping o
n
, dear?
”

“
I did ask him, but he said he
’
d tell me this morning. It didn
’
t sound very hopeful,
”
Sarah replied.

Kathy leaned across the breakfast table, her eyes puzzled.

“
How queer of him,
”
she said,
“
to cook you ham and e
gg
s, I mean. I wish I had been there. You don
’
t even like him.
”

“
I
’
m not so sure,
”
Sarah said slowly.
“
I misjudged him, I
thin
k.
Those letters put my back up before I ever saw him, but if I
’
d known
—”

“
Known what?
”
asked her sister.

“
Aunt Em—Kathy
—”
Sarah regarded them both a
little sternly, wondering whether she should tell them or not, and deciding it was better for them to know to avoid tactless remarks.
“
His hands were hurt in an accident two years ago. He can never play professionally again. That
’
s why he
’
s here.
”

Kathy
’
s eyes filled with ready tears.

“
Oh, Sarah, how
awful
!”
she cried.
“
What that must mean to a man like that—you wouldn
’
t understand of course—but he was a wonderful pianist with a great future. Oh, poor Mr. Flint—and what a tragic loss to the world.
”

Yes, thought Sarah with surprise, she supposed that was true, and she wondered what it felt like to be a loss to the world.

“
What a dreadful thing,
”
said Aunt Em a little vaguely.
“
I always thought he must have rheumatism the way he rubbed his fingers. Dear me! Yes, that is a sad thing for him.
”

Kathy was looking at her sister with puzzled eyes.

“
But I can
’
t think why he told
you,
Sarah,
”
she said.
“
Why not me? I understand music, I know so well what he must feel.
”

“
Well, I expect it was just an impulse of the moment and I happened to be there,
”
Sarah answered carelessly.
“
And, Kathy, I shouldn
’
t mention it unless he does. I don t think he likes talking about himself much.
”

Kathy
’
s eyes were shining and her cheeks flushed.
“
Of course I wouldn
’
t mention it,
”
she said.
“
But I can show him in lots of little ways that I understand and sympathize. I—I think, I could even help him.
”

Sarah smiled across at her.

“
I
’
m sure you
could, darling,
”
she said.
“
Your gentle ways would melt the most bitter heart. Try them on him when he goes for his morning stroll, for I
’
m very much afraid he
’
s leaving us.
”

She took the boat after breakfast and rowed across the lough to fetch the oil and other things which Casey had forgotten to send. She found Miss Dearlove in the shop buying picture postcards, and was informed that the Miss Kellys
’
guest house was delightful. Baths were extra, of course, but they were
hot,
and there was a telephone and the youngest Miss Kelly was interested in folk-dancing and made beautiful lampshades with leprechauns on them. She must certainly take one back for dear
₍
Miss Pringle.

“
And how is the flinty-hearted Mr. Flint?
”
she enquired roguishly.
“
Such a
disagreeable
man, but then of course one can
’
t pick and choose one
’
s guests at
this
time of year, can one?
”

“
We can,
”
said Sarah briefly.
“
Hi, Casey! You never sent that oil, you old divil, and the whole house in darkness last night. How do you think we
’
ll keep our guests, and how do you think you
’
ll sell your whisky?
”

Miss Dearlove turned her back. A very abrupt young person and so familiar with the tradespeople. She listened to Sarah and Casey having a long altercation which sounded as if it would end any minute
with h
igh words, and was quite surprised when the argument finished with soft-spoken flattery, and tender enquiries after both families.

“
I
’
ll just carry those oil cans to the boat for you, Miss Sarah,
”
Casey said, following her out and leaving Miss Dearlove alone in the shop.
“
Och, that wan with her leprechauns! All the ways round the lough yesterday she was askin
’
about fairies till I thought she was not quite right in the head. Sure, all the English is touched!
”

When Sarah got back, Kathy was watching for her from the snug window and she beckoned furiously, and pointed towards the ceiling.

“
What is it?
”
Sarah shouted, but her sister shook her head and made still more urgent signs.

Sarah climbed in through the window, and Kathy said:
“
He
’
s ready to see you. I did as you told me, Sarah. I walked him round the garden, though I rather think he wanted to be alone, and I—I managed to convey what I felt, I think, because he said I was very sweet and would I care to borrow his gramophone one afternoon. Don
’
t you think that sounds as if he means to stay?
”

“
Well, if he does, my lamb, it will be thanks to your tender charms and not to mine. I
’
ll go up now.
”

Adrian was standing by one of the windows, looking out over the lough. He turned as she entered, but she could not judge his mood by his face or the tone of his voice in which he said: