‘Half yours.’ He laughed softly. ‘You dear, odd child. You would put it with scrupulous fairness, of course. Why, it’s all yours if you want it.’
‘Oh, no,’ she interrupted quickly.
But he didn’t seem to notice, because he went on with sudden, passionate earnestness: ‘I want you to feel it’s all yours-this and whatever else you would like to have. Sometimes, when I realise how little you are getting out of this business, I-’
‘Don’t,’ Alison said sharply. She felt she simply couldn’t bear to have him heaping generosities on her like this, when the one single thing she wanted-his love-was so obviously not for her.
He stopped abruptly at her exclamation, and looked puzzled. ‘Alison, what is it?’
‘Nothing, nothing.’ She gave him a quick, nervous smile in an effort to reassure him. ‘But you make me miserable when you’re so wonderfully generous, and then talk about my having nothing. I am happy and satisfied. Please believe that.’
‘Very well.’ He smiled a little too, and touched her hair with an odd gesture of tenderness which suddenly made it very difficult not to cry.
She hastily went over to one of the windows and pretended to be rearranging a curtain.
‘I must get Jennifer to come round here soon,’ she said, speaking at random. There are several things I want to ask her, and she’s so good at arranging things.’
Julian nodded. ‘That reminds me-they want us to go down to their country cottage next week-end. They’ve got a place in Sussex, you know.’
He was busy lighting a cigarette and did not see that Alison had gone rigid. She remained with her back to the room, her hand quite still on a fold of the curtain.
‘Do you mean that Jennifer asked us?’
‘Yes. That’s to say, Simon did. It’s the same thing,’ Julian said.
Alison thought that it was not the same thing at all. But it seemed impossible to voice any protest, There was no reason in the world why she should object to the week-end-so far as Julian knew.
‘You didn’t specially want to do anything else, did you?’ Julian was looking at her now.
‘No-oh, no,’ Alison assured him. ‘I’d like to go to the cottage.’
She hated the idea, really, she told herself fiercely, but she felt helpless in face of the utter impossibility of explaining fully to Julian.
Why on earth should Simon have chosen just now to invite them down there? He must know how queer and embarrassing it would be for her. Or was it just that he didn’t care?
They drove down on the Saturday afternoon, through a cold rain-storm which threatened to turn to snow at any minute.
By the time they arrived at the cottage it was already beginning to grow dark, and the square, fire-lit hall was a very attractive sight.
‘You poor dears I Aren’t you simply frozen?’ Jennifer drew them both towards the fire, and kissed Alison, ‘I think it’s too heroic of you to come down here at this time of year. It was Simon’s idea entirely. To my mind it’s just idiotic to go into the country in December unless you absolutely have to.’
‘Probably they aren’t such over-civilised, city-softened creatures as you,’ observed her brother equably. ‘This place is just as beautiful in December as in June.’
‘All right You can be as rude as you like,’ Jennifer laughed ‘But London remains the only place where I can contemplate the thought of winter with stoicism.’
‘Did you have a good journey down?’ Simon was taking Alison’s coat and speaking to her in that half-indifferent, half-caressing voice that was so disturbing.
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘And do you think me absurd to ask you here in the winter?’
Alison felt embarrassed, and glanced at Julian. But he was talking to Jennifer.
‘I-I like the country any time of the year, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Well, it isn’t quite.’ Simon gave that peculiar smile of his. ‘But it will do.’
Then he turned to speak to Julian, and a moment or two later Jennifer took Alison upstairs to see her room.
It was an exquisite place, with little dormer windows set in pointed eaves. The furniture was Queen Anne period, in palest, gleaming walnut, every piece a thing of beauty in itself, while the curtains and hangings were in old-world, rose-spattered chintz.
On a low table, under one window, stood a huge bowl of pink roses, the living counterparts of the roses in the chintz.
‘Why, how wonderful!’ Alison drew a deep breath of admiration. ‘What glorious roses to have in December.’
Jennifer laughed.
‘Simon brought those down from Town specially for you. He was most exercised about getting the right shade. You ought to feel flattered, I can assure you, for I’ve never seen him bother about these little gallantries for anyone else.’
‘It-was very kind of him,’ Alison said, and bent down to sniff the scent of the roses a little nervously. She thought, somehow, she would have liked them better if Jennifer had put them there.
Downstairs again, she tried very hard to be appreciative and to talk easily about the beauties of the cottage. She admired the improvements Simon had made, and praised the marvellous combination of modern comfort and old-world charm. And all the time she wished and wished that she were safely back in her London flat.
Simon was absolutely his charming, easy-going self once more; the perfect host, the amusing companion. But Alison knew that, after that scene at the dance, she could never look at him with quite the same eyes again, and she thought now:
‘When he is quiet, it’s like the quiet of the sea-dark and still and, somehow, a little menacing.’
She scolded herself for a fanciful little fool because she was vaguely alarmed to find that Julian’s room was the full length of the passage from hers. She never remembered being nervous like this before, and it made her feel annoyed and ashamed.
‘You’ve changed the rooms round a bit, haven’t you?’ Julian said, looking round. ‘I don’t remember ever having seen this one before.’
‘Yes. This is Simon’s room, really,’ Jennifer explained. ‘But for some reason or other he changed only this week.’
‘I like change.’ Simon said carelessly ‘You get into one mood and one groove of thought if you always stay in one place.’
‘Really, Simon’-Jennifer looked surprised-’I’ve never heard you talk like that about moods before.’
‘No?’ her brother smiled. ‘But the idea is a sound one.’
‘And which is your room now?’ Alison asked, rather as though she couldn’t help it.
Simon didn’t answer at once, but he looked at her a little strangely, she thought Or was that her fancy too?
‘He has the room at the other end of the passage now,’ Jennifer answered for him. ‘The one opposite the rose room-your room, you know.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Alison said. And for one ridiculous, incredible moment she wanted to cling to Julian and say, ‘Take me home. Please take me home.’
The utterly illogical access of nerves passed, of course, and, later that evening, she wondered what on earth could have possessed her to make her feel like that.
An admirably cooked meal was served by the woman who-with her husband-did all the work of the house. And then they all four sat round the fire.
Alison sat quite still staring into the flickering fire, with a growing feeling of half-superstitious dread, while the others went on talking.
She didn’t like the cottage, she told herself. She didn’t like the owner Above all, she didn’t want to sleep alone- not in that beautiful rose-filled room, just across the narrow passage from Simon’s room.
It was ridiculous, of course. There was actually nothing concrete at all that could happen The whole thing was completely illogical But then fear never was logical. That was the worst of it-you couldn’t argue with it.