They breakfasted together in the little sun-room, and then, if the weather permitted, Douglas took his walk. This was a slow business. He went with two sticks, and with Alison in close attendance. At first, he could do no more than walk round the garden; then he performed this feat twice; and then felt he might venture on to the pavement of the sea front. It was at all times a quiet little place, but now, in the late spring, it was almost deserted; and Alison and Douglas shared the humble promenade and the arrogant sea with very few people. He was proud of himself the day that he walked as far as one of the public seats and back, but soon he was able to pass it and reach the next one. Thomas drove them to the rehabilitation centre at the end of ten days, they spent the night at the house in Mayfair (missing Peter, who was away on business), and returned to the cottage next day.
Guy and George came to spend a week-end with them, and the four had a happy and hilarious time together. Douglas improved rapidly, gaining confidence in himself with every passing day. Next time it was necessary for him to go to the centre, Alison decided to drive him there herself.
The doctor who had seen Douglas came out to speak with Alison.
“We want to keep him overnight,” he said. “Can you come to fetch him to-morrow?”
“Yes,” said Alison. “Why do you want to keep him? Is he not so well?”
“He’s doing excellently—perhaps a little too well. He’s been forced to be still for so long, that everything now is rather a strain. We want to check up on his general condition.”
“Only a routine check?” asked Alison a little anxiously.
“Only a routine check,” agreed the doctor, smiling at this pretty, well-dressed girl.
Alison went out to the big car and began to drive London-wards. She wondered if Peter would be away on business again, or perhaps dining out with Lydia. By the time she reached London, she would be too late for dinner with Priscilla, but perhaps Nora could find her something to eat. When she reached the house, she was surprised to find a line of cars parked along the street. Somebody in one of the houses was apparently having a party, she thought, and she was compelled to leave Peter’s car a good way from the house. She walked back, looking for her key in her handbag, and let herself into the hall. Then she paused in amazement, for the house was full of sound; undeniably the sound of a party, and it was in this house that the occupants of all those cars were gathered.
She looked into the dining room, and Nora was there with Brenda, clearing away the remains of a dinner party.
“Why, it’s Miss Alison,” said Nora. “Good-evening, miss, what a pity you came too late for dinner.”
“Good evening, Nora, and Brenda. I didn’t know there was a dinner party, but I’m starved, because I haven’t eaten since lunch. Only a cup of tea at the rehabilitation centre.”
“I’ll bring you something. Is Mr. Douglas outside?”
“No, I had to leave him there to-day.”
“How is he, Miss Alison?”
“He’s doing wonderfully. He can walk quite a distance now. Still with the sticks, of course.”
“Did Thomas drive you? Will he want some supper?”
“No, I drove myself. Thomas is keeping Mrs. Thomas company.”
“Fancy you driving all that way. Well, I mustn’t stand here talking with you starved. I’ll bring you something right away.”
Nora produced an appetizing meal, and the two maids would have withdrawn while she ate it, but Alison told them to carry on, and they all talked together.
“It looks,” said Alison, “as if it was a very special dinner.”
“It certainly was,” said Nora, removing flowers that sent trailing sprays of rosebuds across the cloth. “Very special. All Mr. Peter’s old friends, and all very grand, too. Quite like old times.”
“Miss Alison will be going up soon,” said Brenda.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Alison. “I’m too tired to change, and anyway, nobody expects me.”
“Oh, Mr. Peter wouldn’t like it if you didn’t, I’m sure,” said Nora.
“We couldn’t help wondering,” put in Brenda, “if it was an engagement party. It’s not our place, of course; but it seems people have been waiting months to hear that Mr. Peter was engaged.”
“Well, for all you know, it might have been,” said Nora, feeling that Brenda was saying too much. “You take that tray, Brenda, and bring Miss Alison some coffee.”
The coffee was brought, the two maids retired, leaving the dining room tidy once more, and Alison sat alone, sipping her coffee, hearing all the sounds of the party from upstairs, wondering who was there, and determined that she would go straight up to her room and meet Peter in the morning.
Then the door opened, and Peter stood there looking at her. Looking too, she thought, very pleased to see her. He came across the room with his big strides.
“Alison, my dear, Nora just told me that you were here.”
“How naughty of her. I was going to slip up to my room.”
“But why? We are having a party.”
“That’s just why? I didn’t want to crash in on your party, Peter.”
“Alison! How could you crash in? Isn’t this your home?”
“Yes, Peter, and a lovely home too. But your old friends are your old friends, and perhaps you don’t want me always around.”
He looked at her with a very strange expression, which she did not understand. She hoped she had not offended him.
“Is Douglas here, too?” he asked.
“No. I had to leave him at the centre.” She explained to Peter what had happened. Peter frowned at her.
“I don’t
know if I like the idea of your driving through London,” he said. “I hope you are quite safe.”
“I won’t hurt your beautiful car,” she assured him.
Once again, he looked strangely at her, but all he said was: “You’d better not, my child,” before he insisted that she come upstairs and meet his friends. Reluctantly, she went with him, and as if to keep her from escaping, he held her arm with strong fingers. They went up the elegant curving staircase side by side.
“Too bad that I came this evening,” said Alison, feeling that she might be spoiling his party.
“It is a joy to see you at any time,” said Peter, and she looked up at him, rather surprised at his choice of words. For a moment, they paused, there on the stairs, and Alison had a strange feeling that there was more to come. The hum of conversation coming from the drawing room seemed to emphasize the quiet and privacy of the staircase. As she looked at him, she found herself suddenly a little breathless, charged with some sort of anticipation. And it seemed to her that Peter’s dark eyes were darker than ever, with the strength of his feeling. There was the same sort of aloneness between them now as there had been that day in the bluebell wood, and she felt herself drawn towards him, although neither of them moved.
The drawing room door opened, and Nora came out with a tray of glasses. Peter stood aside, to let her pass, and the spell was broken. They walked up the few remaining stairs and into the drawing room, which seemed crowded with people. Alison was still wearing her suit, and she felt a little out of place among the beautiful evening gowns, but she allowed Peter to take her round and introduce her to everybody. She hardly knew the drawing room to-night, resplendent as it was with masses of flowers, extra lights, and all the furniture rearranged to make more room. She hardly heard the names of the people who talked to her. She saw that Lydia was brilliant in a dress of green and gold brocade, worn with emerald jewellery; and she saw, too, that Lydia was once more furious with her for arriving at this inopportune moment.
Then she saw Signor Micotti and his wife, and they greeted her with enthusiasm and pleasure.
“So nice that we see you to-night,” said the Signora, whom Alison had once addressed as Mama Micotti, “because we leave for the States to-morrow. We had such a wonderful piece of news, Papa and I. Maria has already a
bambino
—
what do you think of that?”
Alison was suitably delighted with the news, knowing what it meant to them, and made numerous enquiries about Maria, who had once played with her, and now was happily married; but after a few minutes, somebody came to engage their attention, and Alison stood looking round her, and wondering whether she would stay a little longer, or make her escape now.
“Do you mind if I come and talk to you?” a pleasant, low voice said close to her, and she turned to see a most attractive young woman in a white and silver gown, smiling at her.
“I’m afraid,” said Alison, “I didn’t get your name.”
“Winlake. I am Erica Winlake. Peter has told me so much about you, and all you have done for Douglas. It took such a burden off his mind.”
“I drove Douglas up to the centre to-day,” said Alison, “which explains why I have gate-crashed into Peter’s party.”
“I am glad you did. Peter speaks so well of you that I have wanted to meet you.”
There was an immediate friendliness between the two. Alison said:
“I have heard your husband conducting concerts several times. Always on the Continent. I hope you won’t think it is only lip service if I say that I adore his conducting.”
“Not at all. I am completely gullible where Charles is concerned, and it is quite in order to adore everything he does. He and Peter are old friends.”
They were talking not far from Lydia and another woman, and as they paused in their conversation, they heard quite distinctly what Lydia was saying, although she said it in a low voice, and a voice intense with feeling:
“Peter’s ward! Peter’s ward! Am I to be dogged all my life by Peter’s ward?”
Alison’s eyes flew, in apprehension, to those of Mrs. Winlake. Yes, she had heard too. Alison’s cheeks were pink with embarrassment.
After a moment, Erica Winlake said:
“You mustn’t mind too much about Lydia
...
She feels that she would be married to Peter now, if it hadn’t been for Douglas, and now for you. I don’t know if it is true, or not. But she feels a little bitter at the moment. It is sure to pass.”
“Thank you,” said Alison. “You are very kind ... I think I won’t stay any longer now. I have had a tiring day.”
“Don’t let Lydia drive you away.”
“No. I really am tired.”
“I hope we shall meet again. You must get Peter to bring you when he comes to see us.”
“Thank you. I should like that. Good-night.”
Alison escaped to her room, which Nora had prepared for her. She thought: Everybody must know what she feels about me. I expect everybody is sorry for her, having to cope with me. I suppose she felt that when Douglas was better, she would have a clear field—that Peter would have no further responsibilities—that her way would be free; and then, when she thought everything was coming right, Peter takes on a new responsibility and brings a ward into the house
...
Mrs. Winlake seemed to know all about it. Perhaps all her friends and Peter’s know all about it, and are feeling sorry for her and looking upon me as a nuisance ... Of course, they could marry in spite of my being here
...
but no, Lydia wouldn’t want to do that. She doesn’t want to marry into a complete family: anybody can see that. She wants Peter entirely, wholly to herself, minus Douglas, minus Priscilla, and certainly minus myself. After all, I am younger. She must be almost thirty, I should think; and in her shoes, I don’t think I should want a girl ten years younger than that living in the house.
But I wonder how Peter feels about it? I wish I knew,
thought Alison. I wouldn’t stay here a day longer if I
thought I was being a hindrance to his happiness. He
is always so considerate, so courteous, that I wouldn’t
know. Oh, the best thing is that, as soon as Douglas is
self-reliant, I should leave and get a job.
The sounds from downstairs went on for a long time, and Alison could not sleep. They stopped for a while when somebody played the piano, but broke out again as soon as the playing stopped. It was beautiful playing, thought Alison. Not Signor Micotti, who might conduct like a dream, but played like a steam-roller. Her thoughts went to Maria Micotti, who already had a baby; and strayed from Maria into happy days of the past, in Italy and the Tirol. The Tirol. Peter had stayed with her parents in the Tirol. She was back at Peter again, and there her thoughts rested.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ALISON breakfasted next morning with Peter, delighted to be alone with him again, feeling that it was many weeks since they had done this together. They talked of Douglas, and Alison described in detail how he had been progressing.
“I will drive down soon after breakfast,” she said. “And you will go straight back to the cottage?”
“Well, Mrs. Thomas expects us, some time to-day.”
“
Then I shan’t see you again for some time. You will come up to the centre in ten days’ time?”
“Yes, unless they wish to alter the arrangements.”
“Well, I hope you both continue to enjoy yourselves. And that the sunshine will last for you.”
“Thank you, Peter.”
“I must say the house seems lamentably emptier without you both.”
She thought that it had seemed far from empty when she returned to it unexpectedly last evening; and Peter saw what she was thinking, and smiled.
“There aren’t many evenings like last night,” he said. “That was a party evening.”
“Then you must have more parties.”
“When you are at home. I hope you don’t think, Alison, that I waited to have the party until you were away.”
“Why, of course not. And even if you did, why shouldn’t you? It has nothing to do with me.”
“It has everything to do with you. This is your home, and you might reasonably expect to be at the parties.”
“It’s very kind of you always to say so, Peter, but I can’t just crash into your life and into your house, like a bolt from the blue, and expect to be included in everything. Anyway, if you have some more parties, perhaps I will be at some of them. And you, Peter, if you have some free week-ends, must come down to the cottage,
and be lazy, and swim, and lie in the sunshine. I’m sure Douglas would like you to come.”
“It sounds very attractive, and I won’t forget it,” he promised. He rose to leave, saying: “Give my best to Douglas; don’t let him overdo it, and tell him I will see him soon.”
Soon after Peter had left, Alison prepared herself for the drive to the centre. If Douglas were ready to leave, they might reach the cottage in time for lunch; if not, and she had to wait some time, they could lunch on the way, and still be at the cottage by tea-time. She drove rather slowly, and extremely carefully while she was in the London traffic, but picked up a little speed on the quieter roads. When she reached the centre, she parked the car and went inside, enquiring for Douglas.
“Oh, it’s Miss Vale, isn’t it? Well, Doctor wants to speak to you before you go in to the patient.”
“Nothing wrong, I hope,” asked Alison.
“I don’t think so,” said the nurse cheerfully, and led Alison to a small room, where she waited for nearly half an hour, in growing apprehension.
When the doctor came in, he was as cheerful as the nurse, but Alison, throughout the illnesses of her father and then her mother, had grown to mistrust this hospital cheerfulness a little.
“I hope there is nothing wrong,” she said, when she had wished him good-morning.
“Oh, nothing actually wrong,” he said, smiling. “But perhaps he hasn’t been quite as careful as he should have been. It’s understandable, of course, in his case; he wants to run before he can walk.”
“He’s going too fast?” asked Alison.
“Yes, I’m afraid so. That won’t hurt his legs or muscles; but his general condition shows that he is under some strain. You see, for some years now, his heart has been taking things easy, as well as the rest of his body; and the adjustment is bound to be rather slow.”
“Of course,” said Alison. “So what do you advise?”
“Well, we wanted to keep him here, but he objects strongly to that. Again, quite understandable, when you remember that he’s had some years of hospitals. So
I want to give you a routine for him for the next few weeks. You are his
fiancée
, aren’t you?”
“Oh no,” said Alison.
“Not?” The doctor looked surprised. “I beg your pardon. I quite understood that you were. Then you are not the person I should be talking to. I will get in touch with his elder brother.”
“Well, if you give me the routine, I can see that he keeps to it; but perhaps you should get in touch with Mr. Peter Malliner about him.”
“I would rather give it to somebody who is with him all the time.”
“I am with him all the time. I am Mr. Peter Malliner’s ward. I don’t know what that makes me to Douglas; but, you see, I live in the same house, and can make him behave himself.”
“Well then. He’s been walking a bit too much and too far, I should say. I want him to go to bed for a week. For perfect rest. Then for the next week, he can' get up for two or three hours a day. Then he’s to come back and see me.”
“May he walk when he gets up?”
“Yes; just to get from room to room; not to walk around all the time. See that he takes things easy. See that he eats well, and lots of nourishing things. Keep him amused, if you can. He may feel discouraged at what he imagines is a setback.”
“It isn’t a real setback?” asked Alison anxiously.
“Well, no. You see, Miss Vale, now that he can walk, he thinks he is better. But, as I said just now, his heart, his digestion, his whole system, have to adjust themselves to doing considera
b
ly more work. This puts a strain on them; and they must be allowed to adjust slowly. And while they are adjusting, he has to supply them with more fuel to do the job ... In these years of inactivity, he has had little appetite, but he needs more food now, and you must see he takes it, whether
he wants it
or
not. That’s one of the reasons why I’d like to keep him here; but
I
think it may have
too
discouraging an effect. So you can take him home with you, but look after him well; don’t let him break his routine, and ring me up if you are in any doubt
...
Now, will you tell Mr. Malliner all this, or shall I?”
“I would like him to hear it from you. Shall I get him to telephone you?”
“Yes, do that. Now you go and be very firm with that young man, Douglas. Keep him in bed for a week, and keep him amused
...
And if he has backache, which is highly probable, bring in the masseur for him.” The doctor smiled at her. “
I
know he calls it torture, but it really gives him great relief.”
“Shall I take him back to the sea, or to London?”
“Keep him in town; it will be easier if you have to get in touch with me.” He rose to open the door for Alison, and he said, looking down at her fair head: “I’ve laboured over this boy, Miss Vale. I know his long case history. It’s worth a little extra care at the end, to see him have his reward of health and strength.”
Alison went to see Douglas. He was all ready to leave.
“Well, Douglas,” she said, smiling at him, “we’ve been overdoing it, haven’t we?”
“So it seems,” he said moodily.
“It’s my fault, for letting you go too fast. We’ve got to put the brakes on for a little while.”
“Let’s get out of here,” said Douglas.
“Can you manage?” she asked, watching him get to his feet.
“Of course I can manage,” he said sharply, and went out with the aid of his two sticks, while Alison held the door open for him. She walked along the corridor with him, slowly, glad that she had parked the car as near the entrance as possible, so that he would not have far to go. She noticed that he was breathing heavily when he relaxed in the car seat, and she began to worry in case the doctor had not told her everything. He did not seem
to be in a mood to talk, so she drove in silence, concentrating on the actual driving.
“Where are you going?” he asked suddenly.
“Back to town,” she replied.
“Why?” he asked. “Why not the cottage?”
“The doctor wanted you to stay in town,” Alison told him.
“Why?”
“Just in case we wanted to get in touch with him.”
“Couldn’t we get in touch with him from the cottage?”
“Yes, but not so quickly or easily.”
“Why should we need him quickly? Alison, stop the car.”
She drew in to the side of the road and stopped the car.
“Now,” said Douglas, “what is all this?”
“What is what? I don’t understand.”
“Are you keeping something from me?”
“No, of course not. Didn’t the doctor tell you that you had been overdoing it?”
“Yes.”
“And that you must stay in bed fo
r
a week?”
“Yes. I know all that. Bed for a week; then up for two or three hours, then back to him. What I want to know is why.”
Alison repeated everything that the doctor had told her.
“You’ve told me everything?”
“Yes, really.”
“Or are you trying to tell me now that my heart is wrong?”
“Oh Douglas, no. No, no, no. Don’t, for goodness sake, begin to worry about that.”
He was not satisfied, and she saw that he was not. She could understand him. He had been so elated about his recovery. Any new blow would be more than he could bear. She remembered the doctor’s words; she must keep him amused. She vowed that she would devote all her time to him, loving him, fussing him, amusing him, filling his time. The next fortnight must not be allowed to seem too long to him.
At the house, she took Douglas straight into the dining room, which was on the ground floor, and settled him in an armchair.
“We are in nice time for lunch,” she said. “I’ll just tell Priscilla that we are here.”
“That will put her in a flap,” said Douglas, and he said it almost sourly, as if it amused him to see Priscilla in a flap. Alison hesitated, but decided now was not the right time to remonstrate, and went away to find Priscilla.
After lunch, she tried to get Douglas to go to bed, but he refused. This put her in a quandary. She had been told to manage him, but she realised she could not manage him without his co-operation. If he would not go to bed, she could not put him there. She decided that he might stay up until tea-time, and went to ring up Peter, and acquaint him with the facts.
“All right,” said Peter. “I’ll be home to tea.”
“I’m awfully sorry, Peter,” said Alison, “I feel it is rather my fault for letting him do too much.”
“It isn’t your fault,” said Peter. He rang off, thinking that is was easy to understand the anxiety of the two of them that Douglas should quickly be walking, quickly be normal. Unfortunate that they had hurried rather too much and set Douglas back a little, but only too understandable.
He was back at the house when Nora carried the tea in to the drawing room. Priscilla was there too, anxious about Douglas, seeing a sick-room routine ahead of her.
“Well, Doug,” said Peter cheerfully. “Nice to see you again. You’ve got quite a tan.”
“I shan’t have that for long,” said Douglas.
Peter glanced at him, and then away. He drew a chair nearer the table and smiled at Alison. She passed him a cup of tea, and Priscilla offered him sandwiches.
“I have to go back to bed for a week,” said Douglas, amplifying his own statement.
“So I hear,” said Peter calmly. “A week is no time. It will soon be gone
...
Alison, you’re not eating. Sandwich or cake?”
“A cake, please, Peter. Thank you.”
“Who did you hear it from?” asked Douglas.
“From Alison first; then from the doctor.”
“He phoned you?” asked Douglas quickly.
“No,
I
phoned
h
im, after
I
had talked to Alison.”
“And w
h
at did he tell you?”
“Just what he told you,
I
imagine.”
“I don’t imagine so,
”
said Douglas.
Peter looked at him.
“Now don’t get worked up, Douglas,” he said. “And don’t start imaging things. It’s simply a case of slowing up a little, until your whole system is adjusted to the new pace.”
“I’ve already heard that three times,” said Douglas wearily. “So let’s stow it.”
“I don’t see any need to be rude,” said Alison.
“No, I don’t suppose you do. It isn’t you who is shoved about like a parcel. It isn’t you that everybody is trying to deceive. It isn’t you who’s being treated like a school-kid.”
Peter was about to speak, but Alison got in first.
“In any case,” she said, “you are supposed to be in bed now. Perhaps if you were resting properly, you wouldn’t feel the need to be sour at everybody’s expense.”
“Sorry,” he said shortly.
She smiled at him swiftly.
“That’s all right, darling,” she said at once. “I don’t care if you bite my head off.” She rose and went to his side, stroking the hair back from his forehead. “Why don’t you go to bed and rest, darling?” she asked. “It’s only for a week: what’s a little week? I know it’s a hellish nuisance when we were getting on so finely; but if you look at it reasonably, you can see the necessity for it, and the good sense.” She leaned down and gently set her cheek against his. “Come on,” she said. “Be good and nice and reasonable. Let me help you.”