They saw everything there was to see, including the Crown Jewels. Alison waited hopefully for Tower Bridge to open, but was unlucky. “Could we walk over it?” she asked Peter, and together they walked over Tower Bridge to the centre, and Alison stood with one foot on one half of the Bridge and the other foot on the other half, feeling the vibrations as the traffic passed. “I do wish it would open,” she said, “but not at this moment, of course.”
“It only opens for the big ships,” said Peter. “It might be hours before it is necessary.”
They leaned on the parapet, and watched the great cranes at work, loading and unloading the ships in the river.
“It’s fascinating,” said Alison. “Quite fascinating. I could watch all day. You know, I
never
imagined London anything like this.”
Peter smiled gently at her enthusiasm. He thought what a charming child she was. When she had seen enough of the river traffic, they walked back to the car, and as the Monument was nearby, he decided they could take that in also before luncheon. Alison had imagined it much taller, but still, she said, there would be a good view from the top, and she would like to go up. So they began their ascent of the rather dark, rather narrow spiral staircase.
“Stop when you are out of breath,” advised Peter.
“I’m quite all right,” said Alison, going up and up. At last, however, she was forced to stop for a moment. She leaned against the wall, in the gloom, and looked at Peter.
“Out of condition,” she said breathlessly.
“Don’t lean on the wall,” said Peter. “It is probably none too clean. Here, lean on me.”
He put out a hand and pulled her against him, and she rested against his shoulder, with his arm about her. In the half-dark of the restricted space, she suddenly found her heart beating very quickly; and felt the wildest impulse to turn completely into the circle of his arms. All she could think, over and over again, was Peter, Peter, Peter.
Footsteps were heard on the stairs above. Somebody was coming down. She straightened herself, most reluctantly.
“All right?” asked Peter.
“Fine, thank you,” she said, and wondered at herself for sounding pleasantly normal. They went on to the top, and stood for a long time looking out at the vastness of London, while Peter identified for her the domes and spires and famous buildings. But when he suggested lunch, she was glad to go down with him. A lot of her excitement had evaporated now. It was replaced by something else, something close and warm and wonderful that made her quieter than usual. Peter, sitting opposite her at a table for two, in one of London’s older Fleet Street restaurants, noticed that her eyes were shining, that she looked happy, and that her lips were very ready to curve into a smile; and thought she was already recovering from the sadness of her mother’s death. He supposed that this was how she had been before that unhappy event, and that the sadness had been unusual for her.
They completed an afternoon of sight-seeing, but when Peter suggested that Alison might like to dine out, she shook her head.
“I would like it very much, Peter,” she said, “but I think I ought to go back and have dinner with Douglas.”
He agreed at once, but stipulated that he must take her out to dinner another night instead. They returned to the house in Mayfair, and while Peter glanced through some telephone messages that had been left for him, Alison ran upstairs to find Douglas. He was in the drawing room reading, but his face lit up as she came into the room.
“Missed me?” she asked cheerfully, holding out a hand to him. He took it in both of his own, and held on to it hard. “God, yes, I’ve missed you,” he said. “It’s been a long day, Alison.”
She thought guiltily how it had flown past for herself. She knelt down beside his chair, her
h
and still in his.
“Douglas,” she said, speaking swiftly, “we ought to do something about you,
Liebchen.
It isn’t right, or necessary, to leave you here all day. You could ride in
the car, couldn’t you? You could have a chair for outside. I could take you into the park, and all sorts of places.”
“Do you think I’d allow you to do that?” he asked.
“Why not?” She was transparently honest, her wide grey eyes fixed on his. “I would love to do it. Oh, Douglas, we could have fun together, watching people, looking at shops. We could buy books together
...
And I can drive, Douglas. If Peter let us have the car sometimes, I could take you for drives. Darling, why
should
you have long, lonely days by yourself?”
He looked at her small, oval face, so close to his own, at the wide eyes, the beautiful skin, the white teeth. He thought she had the most beautiful expression, at that moment, that he had ever seen, all her thought for somebody else, all her anxiety for him. He said: “Alison, you are a lovely girl,” and he kissed the hand that he held in his own.
It was this that Peter heard and saw as he came into the room through the open doorway. It gave
him
pause, and sudden new thoughts came into his mind. But Douglas was completely unperturbed. He said:
“Hallo, Pete. Has she worn you out with all this sight-seeing?”
“Not quite. I would have gone on and taken her out to dinner, but she insisted on coming back here, to have it with you.”
“I know. She would. Do you know what she suggests now? That I should have an outside chair so that she can take me into the park, like a nursemaid.”
“Oh, Douglas,” said Alison reproachfully, but she saw that he was laughing at her, that he was, in truth, pleased because she thought about him, and she laughed too. Peter, watching them, and following the line of his new thoughts, thought that it would not be a bad thing at all, this between them. It might help Douglas to get well more quickly. It would provide a new and great interest for both of them.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE following day, Alison discovered that Douglas already had a wheel chair suitable for the streets, and declared her intention of taking him into the park that afternoon. She overrode his protests, and, with Thomas’s help, set off along the pavement. “Of course,” she said, “if I can’t negotiate the kerbs, we shall just have to go round and round the block; so look out, Douglas, for all the shallow ones.” And this set the right tone, made a bit of an adventure of it, and relieved it of embarrassment for him. Alison felt none. She was only glad that she could do something to lighten the burden of his days; and she was convinced that he looked better and brighter on their return.
That evening, after dinner, Peter carried her off to the little morning room on the ground floor, to have the serious talk with her. He said:
“You have been with us almost a month, Alison.”
“Yes,” she said. “A long time.”
“All too short,” he said courteously, “but perhaps long enough for you to have made up your mind what you would like to do.”
She looked a little troubled.
“You see,” she said, “I have so few qualifications. I have four languages, all fluent. I thought perhaps I could teach languages in a girls’ school.”
“You don’t quite understand me,” said Peter. “I am not suggesting you should leave us. I am hoping you will stay, but I wanted to give you time to find out if you would like to live with us.”
“Live with you? No, I don’t quite understand. Do you mean that I could get a job, and still make this my home?”
“No. I will tell you plainly what I do suggest. I suggest, Alison, that I make you my ward, and that you live here permanently as a member of the family.”
She looked at him with wide, astonished eyes.
“But why?” she asked. “Why should you do this? I have no claim on you, and I’m sure Mother did not have such a thing in mind when she wrote to you.”
“No. I know that. But I think what you do not know, Alison, is how much I owed to your parents. Would you like to hear about it?”
“Please,” she said.
“I’ll have to go a long way back: to before the war, when I was very young and much too serious. My parents were very, very strict. They were Quakers. Have you ever noticed how often Quakers seem to succeed in business, and amass fortunes? Well, my father was one of them. He was wealthy and he used his money for many good causes, but he never
enjoyed
it. Nor did he intend that I should. I received no privileges. I started at the bottom of the business and went through all the departments, without favour of any kind. When I started I had a week’s holiday in the year. Going rather far, don’t you think? It gradually increased, until, the year that I had three weeks, I decided to go abroad; and with some idea of improving myself, I set off for Italy with a massive guidebook, and began doing the cathedrals and art galleries and so on.
“Oh, Alison, you can’t imagine what a very dull young man I must have been. It was a wonder that your parents saw anything in me at all. But, bless them, they did. I met them in a very off-the-beaten-track Italian village, when they rescued me from some language difficulties. They asked me to have a meal with them, and when they heard what I was doing, they began, most enthusiastically, to make out a list of the
really
interesting places to see and things to do. And they said that if I took their advice and went the following week to the opera at La Scala, I must call on them at their hotel.
“I did, and that started a friendship which filled my life with colour. They introduced me to vivid, strange, colourful people: to serious music and opera: to beautiful places. They introduced me to ideas which would certainly never have been discussed in my family circle.
You’ve no idea, Alison how my whole life blossomed. It was incredible to me that I hadn’t felt its emptiness before. Whenever I had some time off, and I asserted myself then to see that I got more, I would use my savings to fly over to see them, wherever they happened to be. Through them, I met the great names in the world of the arts
...
Well, I must cut this short—you probably know much of it already—but you must see that anything that I can do for Laura’s daughter is a small thing in comparison with what they did for me, when they changed my life from the grey affair that it was, to the colourful affair it afterwards became.”
“But that was just
like
them,” said Alison. “They did it because they liked you and they wanted to do it; and it isn’t anything that you have to repay.”
“No, I don’t have to, but I want to. Will you stay with us, Alison?”
She looked at him thoughtfully for a few seconds. Then she smiled, a little doubtfully.
“It’s very tempting,” she said. “But I do feel I ought to get a job, do something useful.”
“My dear child, you couldn’t possibly do a more useful job than the one you are doing at the moment.” She looked enquiringly at him.
“Douglas,” he said. “You’re so good for him, Alison, and so good
to
him
. He tells me that you both went into the park to-day. He also told me to tell you that, if you find it embarrassing, he will quite understand if you don’t want to repeat it. But it did him good.”
“Oh,” she cried, “he
is
so sensitive, the poor darling. Why on earth should I be embarrassed? It was fun for both of us.”
“You see what I mean. You have a job, Alison.”
“All right,” she said. “Everybody is much too nice to me, but why should I rebel against that? Thank you very much, Peter, I will stay here.”
He could see how fond she was of Douglas, and he thought she was staying for Douglas’s sake. He said: “Then that is settled. I will put the ward business in hand right away. And that brings us to other matters,
Alison. You must have an allowance. And you need a great many things, I am sure. Clothes and so on.”
She began to protest, but Peter succeeded in overriding her objections, and convincing her that the job must be done properly. She needed evening clothes, accessories, all sorts of new things; and as a member of his family, she must not object to his supplying them.
“I expect it will be a little difficult for you,” he said, “as you do not know the best places to go. And as Priscilla is the only feminine member of the household, and you will hardly want to be guided by her taste, I think we should think of somebody to go shopping with you.
I
believe Lydia would enjoy that.”
“Oh no,” protested A
l
ison at once.
He looked up in surprise. She wondered if she had offended him.
“I couldn’t be such a nuisance,” she said. “I am sure I can manage alone.”
“But why should you? It will be so much easier with somebody who knows the ropes; and Lydia has perfect taste.”
“But I scarcely know her—I can’t inflict myself on her.”
“If that’s all you are worrying about, I’m sure she would be delighted. Just leave it to me, Alison, and I’ll ring her in the morning.”
Alison said no more. She had an idea that Lydia herself would refuse the assignment; and then she could shop by herself in peace. They returned to more general matters, and then went upstairs together to announce the news to Douglas.
Douglas had a little news to give them, too. His specialist was coming to see Peter soon, having an idea that it would do Douglas a great deal of good, and accelerate his recovery, if he had a few weeks in a
rehabilitation
centre. Douglas was in favour of it, and it seemed to Peter that his desire to be well, to “stand on his own two feet again,” had received a great impetus from Alison’s arrival. Looking at Alison, he was hardly surprised, because she was looking extraordinarily attractive, now that she was recovering from her mother’s death. There was a light about her, almost an aura of happiness, that was arresting. Perhaps she was in love
—
that might account for it. He stopped himself. Probably he was going too fast. They were both young; but there was no doubt they found great pleasure in each other.
A few days later, Alison found herself meeting Lydia for the shopping expedition. Far from refusing to accompany Alison, Lydia had professed herself delighted. It would be a novelty, she said, something quite interesting to do. She would take Alison to her own dressmaker, her very clever Madame Roseanne.
The salon of Madame Roseanne was a little overpowering; but Madame herself much more so. She walked round Alison, regarding her at length from all angles, until she was sure she had her ‘type.’ Then she and Lydia (who was, apparently, a much favoured client) went into a consultation in which Alison was allowed to play little part. Dresses were produced, examined, approved or disapproved; and the ones approved were modelled for Alison on a girl very near her own size and figure. And as she saw the dresses chosen, an uneasy doubt began to rear itself in her mind. They were choosing all the wrong things, she felt. The things were expensive, they were smart, but they were not Alison. She ventured to say so, and she did not miss the glance that passed between the two women.
“But, my dear,” cried Lydia, “they are charming. Quite charming.”
“But not my type,” insisted Alison.
“Madame,” said Lydia, turning with a smile to Madame Roseanne, “convince this child. Are you not bringing out for her some of your most beautiful things?”
“Indeed,” agreed Madame. “In fact, I might say that I do not produce such things for everybody. But Miss Peyton is an old
patronne,
who wears my clothes with such distinction, that for her I do this.”
“They are beautiful,” said Alison, anxious not to
o
ffend and feeling that she had already done so. “But they are not right for me. I feel they are not.”
“Madame,” said Lydia, who seemed to be placating her also, “my young friend has lived nearly all her life away from England, I think, perhaps, she is not conversant with the present trend of
haute couture.”
Apparently not,” said Madame.
“I think we should choose for her. That will be the best way. After all, Mr. Malliner has charged me with the task of buying her dresses: and I have some reputation for taste.”
“Perhaps that will be best,” agreed Madame.
All Alison’s half-hearted protests were dismissed. She began to have an uncomfortable suspicion that they were in league against her, but she could not find the courage to put her foot down firmly and refuse to have the things they had chosen. She heard them arranging fittings, and rather miserably took no part in the arrangements. She could barely thank Lydia, when they parted outside the establishment, for her help; and she took a taxi home, becoming more and more convinced that Lydia had performed a spiteful act, and deliberately chosen wrongly for her. Alison knew that she would have been much better left alone. She thought back over the dresses chosen; and she came to the conclusion that some of them would make her look common, and others were so much too sophisticated that she would look like a child dressing up. She walked round her room, wondering what to do about it. She would not wear the dresses, not until they had been extensively altered; and it was wasting Peter’s money. She took out the card that Madame had given her, with the time of her fitting written on it, and she saw that the telephone number was there, under the heading. On an impulse she went quickly to the telephone on her bedside table, and dialled the number.
She asked to speak to Madame, but Madame was busy.
“Please tell her my name,” said Alison, “and I think she will speak to me.”
After a long wait, Madame spoke to her.
“Ah, Miss Vale,” she said. “I am sorry to keep you waiting, but as you were informed, I was very busy.”
“Then I am sorry to disturb you. Madame, have you started on any of the alterations on the dresses I chose this afternoon?”
“Not yet, Miss Vale. If there is anything you still wish altered, is can easily be done.”
“I do not want anything altered,” said Alison. “I wish to cancel the whole order.”
“What?” cried Madame.
“I wish to cancel the whole order,” repeated Alison, trying to sound much firmer than she felt. “I feel that the dresses were not well chosen. I am not at all happy about them.”
Madame thought very quickly. This young girl was not the fool they had taken her for.
“Mademoiselle,” she said, “perhaps we have not quite found the right things for you. Miss Peyton has excellent taste for herself, but is, perhaps, just a little strong-minded for other people. If you will come and see me, at any time that is convenient to yourself, I am sure I can find exactly what you will be happy to wear.”
“Thank you,” said Alison. “I will think about it.” She rang off, trembling. Cowardly to do it over the telephone, she thought, but the only way she could possibly ever have done it. If Madame were furious, she had only herself to thank. Orders from Mr. Malliner’s ward might have been well worth having, but Alison had no intention of giving them to Madame Roseanne. She could buy beautiful dresses elsewhere.