CHAPTER SIX
ALISON and Guy stood at the corner of the street, talking. They had lunched together, because it was Saturday and Guy had a free afternoon, but Alison would not permit herself to arrang
e
anything after that. Peter was bringing Douglas home later in the afternoon, and she must be there when he arrived; so they had walked about, discussing any topic they happened to light on, but now, said Alison, she really must go. Guy, standing at the corner, and kicking the kerbstone moodily, said:
“You’re very fond of Douglas, aren’t you, Alison?”
“Yes, very fond.”
He looked a little more miserable.
“I admire him too, tremendously, because he has had such an awful lot to put up with, and he takes it all so grandly.”
“I know,” said Guy, “he’s a great chap.”
“But
I
don’t know why it should make
you
moody,” said Alison, laughing at him.
“I suppose I’m jealous of him,” said Guy defiantly. “He’s got money, which is always a good send-off; he’s got charm; we all know he has pluck; and of course, you f 'el sorry for him
...
”
Alison still smiled at him. Guy stopped kicking the kerb, and strai
g
htened himself.
“I’ll go before I make a fool of myself,” he said.
She put a hand on his arm.
“You’ve no need to be jealous of Douglas,” she said. “I
am
fond of him, but I’m fond of you, too, in exactly the same way. Douglas and
I
are good fri
en
ds—nothing more. You and I are good friends—nothing more. You might say, just as reasonably, that Douglas could be jealous of you. Or just as unreasonably. Really, I think of you both in the same way.”
“Well, I don’t know that I find that very encouraging,” said Guy, “but I suppose it’s better than hearing that you are in love with him.”
“Well, I’m not,” said Alison. “Nor with you, dear Guy. And goodness, me, there is the car at the house; and I didn’t even see it arrive. Now, how long has that been there, I wonder? Did you see it come, Guy?”
“No,” he said. “I only see you when I’m with you.” She smiled, but she was now impatient to be gone. He saw that only politeness was keeping her, so he arranged to telephone her later, and went away. Alison hurried along the street to the door of her home.
Peter and Douglas had seen her standing at the corner with Guy. She was looking very chic and attractive in a green suit she had chosen for herself, and a little green hat with a long feather; and she was apparently absorbed in conversation.
“Do we stop?” Peter had asked.
“Not now,” said Douglas. “I’d rather meet her at home.”
So Peter had stopped the car before the house, and helped Douglas inside, and Nora had said she would bring tea immediately, so they went into the drawing room to wait for Alison. They heard the front door close, and knew she must have arrived. Douglas said: “Help me up, Pete. I’m all right when I’m up, but it takes me a devil of a time to get there.”
Peter helped him up, and when Alison flung the door open, she saw them standing together. Standing!
“Douglas,” she cried. She came across the room to him, her eyes shining, her hands outstretched. “Douglas, how wonderful!” And then she was in his arms, and he was hugging her to him, and her arms were about him, too. They swayed together happily for a few moments, and then Alison drew gently away.
“Can you stand alone?” she asked. “Will you collapse if I let you go?”
They laughed together.
“Not if you do it gently,” he said. She stood away from him.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” she repeated. “Peter, isn’t this grand?”
She turned her shining eyes on Peter, her happiness overflowing. Peter suddenly felt a stab of regret. Regret because there was no girl who lit up with happiness for him, as Alison lit up now for Douglas. He did not realise that her happiness was for both of them; that she knew intuitively what a splendid thing it was for both of them to be standing side by side again, after so long. She said:
“You are such a very handsome couple. But you, Douglas, are too thin and too pale, and we’ve got to build you up now and give you some colour. Don’t you think you ought to sit down now?”
“Yes,” he said, and she saw that he was desperately tired.
“The one thing we
mustn’t
do, Peter, is let him get over-tired,” she said, as Peter helped Douglas to sit down.
Nora brought in the tea, and Alison poured out.
“It’s just at the beginning,” said Douglas, “that it will take it out of me. I’m afraid I’ll have to go slowly. I don’t think I’ve quite finished with the wheel chair.”
“Don’t worry,” said Peter. “There’s all
the t
ime in
the world. No need to rush the last fence.”
You couldn’t blame him, thought Peter as he took his tea from Alison, if he did want to rush all his fences; if he flung himself at life. When I remember what an extraordinarily energetic person he was; and how badly he was smashed up; and the terrific patience he has forced himself to acquire, I realise how he must be thirsting for life now. Thirsting for life
...
Peter remembered how he had hugged Alison in his arms, how happily they had swayed together. Perhaps life would be kinder to Douglas in future than it had been in the last few years.
“Oh dear,” said Alison, “I am so happy for you both. This must be a wonderful day for the two of you. It’s wonderful for me, and I’ve only known you a short time.”
“Isn’t she sweet?” said Douglas to Peter.
“Don’t laugh at me,” said Alison.
“I’m not. I mean it. Give me some more tea, please.” She got up to take his cup, and he took her outstretched hand, and pulled her gently towards him. “This is a special day,” he said, “so give me a kiss.”
“You’re spoiled,” she said, but she leaned down and kissed him. Douglas smiled at her wickedly, and added: “It’s a special day for Peter, too, you know.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Alison, flushing.
“It’s a very special day for me,” said Peter, smiling. “Peter, Douglas is getting altogether too bumptious,” she said. “We won’t take any notice of him.”
“Why not?” asked Peter. He held out his hand, and, reluctantly, Alison put hers into it. At that moment, the door opened, and Nora announced Miss Peyton, and Lydia swept into the room in her regal fashion to find Alison and Peter holding hands.
Alison at once pulled hers away, and turned back to the tea table, disappointment flooding her through and through. Lydia crossed to Douglas’s side.
“I felt I must call in and find out how you were,” she said, smiling down on Douglas. She looked round at the others. “How nice that I have come in time for tea,” she said. “Now, Douglas, how have they been treating you?”
“To such good effect,” said Douglas, “that I can now stand unaided, and can walk a little with the aid of two sticks. When you have had some tea, I shall be delighted to show off.”
Peter had placed a chair for Lydia. Nora had brought another cup and some fresh scones. Alison was pouring her some tea. And Lydia was doing some quick thinking. She knew quite well that she had broken into a little scene that was not quite ordinary. She realised that they were all excited by Douglas’s homecoming and his marvellous improvement. And she realised more than ever, how many opportunities there were for Alison to ingratiate herself with both brothers, to the point where they would not consider doing without her. She, Lydia, must live in her flat, seeing Peter when he chose to remember her or when she chose to remind him of her existence, but Alison was here all the time. Every time Peter came into his own house, Alison could be there. Every time he dined at home, she could be at his table, talking to him. Every morning, she could meet him at breakfast.
The conversation was general, turning chiefly on Douglas and the rosy prospect before him. Lydia suddenly decided on a line of action.
“Peter,” she said, “we all know how much better he is; but don’t you think he is still much too pale?”
“Yes, we were discussing how we shall build him up.”
“He should go away for fresh air and sunshine. A nice long holiday, Douglas, somewhere by the sea.”
“That would be a good idea,” said Peter. “Down at the cottage.”
“Unfortunately,” said Douglas, “I have to report back to the centre every ten days.”
“That could be arranged,” said Peter. “You could have the car, and Thomas to drive you up when necessary.”
Douglas looked as if the idea pleased him.
“It would be nice to get down to the sea,” he said. “But I expect there are snags.”
“I don’t see any,” said Peter. “You went down last year in much less desirable circumstances.”
“And got confoundedly bored,” said Douglas. “But then, of course, I was much more helpless.”
“Perhaps,” suggested Lydia charmingly, “Alison could go with you, and then I am sure you would not be bored. Would you not like a seaside holiday, Alison?”
Alison saw her whole plan at once, but she could not blame Lydia for trying to get her Peter to herself for a while. She said:
“I should think it would be lovely at this time of year. If Douglas wanted my company, I should like to go.”
“Douglas would be delighted,” said Douglas.
“It
would
do you good, I’m sure,” said Peter, thinking how quickly Alison had decided to go with him. “I expect we can arrange what we arranged last year. Thomas to help you, Douglas, and Thomas’s wife to look after the cooking and so on.” He turned to Alison. “Mrs. Thomas is really a very nice person, and will look after you both very well. And Thomas can drive Douglas up when it is necessary for him to go to the centre.”
“Won’t you need the car?” asked Alison.
“I can hire one,” said Peter.
They went on discussing plans and arrangements, but Lydia, her little idea working nicely, sat back quietly, letting them proceed without help from her. With any luck, she thought, they will stay away quite a long time; and I shall do my best to make headway with Peter. Also, perhaps the proximity will bring about some attachment, even an engagement, between those two. She was well pleased with herself, and glad that she had seized upon Douglas’s homecoming as an excuse to see what was happening here.
She allowed them to persuade her to stay to dinner, but after it, when they thought Douglas had had enough for one day, they sent him off to bed. It was Priscilla’s habit, too, to go to bed early, and she begged them to excuse her at ten o’clock. There was a cheerful fire burning in the grate, for the spring evenings were still cold, and Peter drew the three chairs closer to it, and supplied Lydia with a fresh drink.
“Not for you, Alison?” he asked.
“Not for me, thank you,” she smiled.
There was a short silence. Alison knew that Lydia was waiting for her to go. She knew that Lydia wanted to be alone with Peter, and she wondered what Peter’s feelings were. Was he also waiting, politely but impatiently, for the moment when she would decide to go away? Was he waiting for her to say that she was tired, too? He would perhaps make a courteous little protest, but sigh with relief when she had gone. Perhaps they would turn gladly into each other’s arms, telling each other that they thought they would
never
get a moment of privacy. Alison rose abruptly.
“I think I will go up and see if Douglas is quite comfortable,” she said. “I’m sure you will excuse me.”
“Certainly,” smiled Lydia, pleasant in her victory.
“I will say good-night in case I don’t come down again,” said Alison. “Good-night, Lydia. Good-night, Peter.”
The door closed behind her. Lydia sighed gently. “She does not find much pleasure in our company,” she said to Peter, smiling. “She would much rather be with Douglas.”
“I think,” said Peter seriously, “that it was rather that she felt she might be intruding on old friends.”
“Perhaps a little that, too,” admitted Lydia. “And of course, she is very young, and has lived abroad so long, she probably feels that she cannot share in our common interests. She will probably have a wonderful time with Douglas at the sea.”
Peter sat twisting his glass between his fingers. He realised that Lydia was working hard to make him see an attachment between Douglas and Alison; but she need not work so hard. If she had seen the meeting between them this afternoon, she would have allowed events to speak for themselves. He supposed it was all right to let them go to the cottage together. He must tactfully inform Mrs. Thomas that he was appointing her official chaperone to them, as well as housekeeper. He might even run down at the week-end occasionally, and see how they were getting on.
A few days later, Mrs. Thomas went down to the cottage with her husband to prepare it for Alison and Douglas. Peter drove them down two days after that, on a sunny but blustery day, stayed overnight there and took the train back to London the next morning. Before he started on his return journey, he had taken a walk with Alison along the almost deserted seashore, ostensibly to talk over last minute arrangements about his brother.
“Do your best, Alison, not to let him overtire himself.”
“Don’t worry about him, Peter, I will really look after him, and not let him go too fast.”
“I know that I can rely on you,” he said, giving her such a beautiful smile that she longed for closer contact with him. Greatly daring, she slipped a hand through his arm as they walked facing the blustery wind; immediately his hand closed over her fingers, and held her closer to him. She was so happy that she would have liked to walk all the morning in this way, but Peter had to return to town, and all too soon their solitary walk was over and she was waving goodbye to him, as Thomas drove him to the station in order to bring back the car.
There followed for Alison and Douglas a very pleasant period of holiday-making. Mrs. Thomas ran the little house efficiently, provided simple but extremely well
-
cooked meals, and acted her role of chaperone with tact and understanding. Thomas was invaluable, helping his wife with the heavier chores, helping Douglas in and out of the car and up the stairs, acting as chauffeur when they required one. Alison herself drove the car usually, acquiring a confidence on the quiet roads more quickly than she would have done in London’s traffic. They had some delightful excursions, she and Douglas, through the countryside of Hampshire and Dorset.