THE MORNING had begun for Tabitha with no inkling of the shattering blow she was to be dealt later in the day. True, it was raining, but that hadn’t mattered in the least, for once the invalids were attended to and helped downstairs, they were left to plan the following day’s outing, and Marius was free to fulfil his promise to show Muriel and Tabitha over his home. They had explored it thoroughly and lightheartedly, peeping into his own rather austere room and then into the room below Tabitha’s—a very splendid room indeed with a walnut four-poster bed hung with muted pinks and blues and a carpet as deep and soft as moss under their feet. It had a vast fitted wardrobe along one wall and several very comfortable chairs. The dressing table, between the windows, was inlaid with Dutch marquetry and held a silver-framed winged mirror; Tabitha could imagine how delightful it would be to sit before it, brushing her hair with a silver-backed brush to match the mirror… There was a very modern bathroom too, hidden behind another door so that its streamlined perfection did nothing to detract from the old-world charm of the bedroom. Across the landing was the one-time nursery, small and cosy and as Marius laughingly explained, quite inadequate. ‘This was used by my youngest sister, she was born several years after us—we had your room, Muriel.’
‘Which you plan to use, Marius?’ Muriel had asked the question which Tabitha had longed to put herself; she waited for his answer, wondering if he had minded.
‘That question’s a little previous, isn’t it?’ He was laughing and not in the least annoyed. ‘But yes, since I should hope for a large family I suppose the room you are in now would be converted into a nursery again. Come up and see the attic,’ he went on easily, ‘we used it as a playroom and later on as a bolthole if we wanted to get away from each other.’
He took them on a leisurely tour of the rest of the house and then rejoined the others, still bent over their maps and charts, and by the time they had had their coffee the weather was clearing a little and the two girls decided to make a more detailed inspection of the few shops in the little town. It was on their return, laughing and very pleased with themselves and their purchases from the boutique on the quay, that they walked into the sitting room and found the men sitting where they had left them, only now Lilith, her golden beauty highlighted by a simple white shift dress, was sitting on the arm of Marius’s chair.
Tabitha, who never felt sick, felt sick now. She stood in the doorway staring at her stepsister and listening to the sound of her pathetic little castles in the air tumbling about her ears. She said from a mouth gone dry: ‘Hullo, Lilith—what a surprise.’
‘Hullo,’ said Lilith airily, and got up as Marius rose to introduce her to Mrs Raynard. ‘It was such heavenly weather and I said to Mummy, do let’s go and see Marius—I knew he’d love it, because he must be finding it a bit dull—I mean you, Mrs Raynard, have your husband and Mr Bow has Tabby to look after him, but there’s no one to keep Marius company.’
She gave him an angel’s smile and he smiled back with lazy good nature and went to pour the drinks. Tabitha, covertly studying his face as he did so, could detect no annoyance in it; indeed, Lilith seemed to be amusing him, just as she was amusing everyone else, excepting Tabitha, who sat quietly, feeling all her newfound confidence and happiness draining away, just as though Lilith were sucking her dry.
‘May I stay to lunch?’ Lilith smiled enchantingly at Marius and made play with her long eyelashes, causing Tabitha to seethe with hopeless rage; it hardly helped when Marius said laughingly: ‘No, you may not. Your mother will be expecting you and it’s hardly fair to leave her alone—besides, we’re going out. But don’t worry, you’re only a stone’s throw away. I daresay we shall see a great deal more of you.’
Lilith pouted and got to her feet. ‘You old bear! At least walk me to the hotel.’ Which he did with a show of willingness which turned Tabitha’s rage into icy misery. They passed her with a smile; Marius’s was absentminded, Lilith’s openly triumphant.
The conversation at lunch, naturally enough, was largely of Lilith’s visit, although Marius said nothing which could be construed into a romantic interest in her, at the same time agreeing readily enough that she was a beautiful girl with most engaging ways. Tabitha, a little pale, joined in the talk with a kind of desperate cheerfulness and even steeled herself to tell the company just how popular her stepsister was. ‘She’s clever too,’ she went on, determined to turn the knife in the wound while she was about it. ‘She has three A levels and she could easily have gone on to university.’
‘Why didn’t she?’ Muriel’s voice was dry.
‘I—I think my stepmother wanted her at home,’ said Tabitha a little wildly. ‘She’s such good company.’ She looked up and found Marius’s eyes upon her; he looked slightly mocking and whatever it was she had intended saying flew out of her head so that there was a little silence, covered by Muriel saying: ‘It’s unusual these days to find a girl who doesn’t want a job of some sort.’
As if she had given him a cue, her husband said: ‘Perhaps she wants to get married.’
Mrs Raynard gave him a wifely look. ‘Darling, you must be joking—she’s eighteen, and if I might venture to say so without being offensive, not the domesticated kind.’
Mr Bow, who had been sitting silent, not missing a word, now made a pronouncement of his own. ‘It seems to me that this young woman is absorbing far too much of our interest. No one has mentioned our trip tomorrow; Bill and I have worked out a magnificent day for us all and nobody has even asked…’ He sounded aggrieved, and Marius said at once:
‘Forgive us, Knotty. Bring out your maps and tell us all about it.’ Which the old gentleman did, with a good deal of interruption from Bill Raynard. Finally, when they had both had their say, Marius remarked cheerfully: ‘It sounds great—let’s get away early. I’ll tell Hans to get the food packed—he’d better come with us, and Smith, of course. Now, who’s for a run to Middelburg?’
The afternoon was spent pleasantly enough, driving slowly round the old city and then parking the car. And after assisting Mr Bow and Mr Raynard on to chairs outside De Nederlands Koffiehuis, going to get a closer view of the St Nicholas Abbey, the magnificent Town Hall and the museum attached to it, and Tabitha, during their sight-seeing tour, couldn’t but notice that although he was his usual placid self and very attentive to their wishes, Marius was undoubtedly, behind the façade of his calm good looks, very busy with his own thoughts.
She half expected that Lilith and her stepmother, or at least Lilith, would pay them another visit that evening, but when she thought about it she was forced to concede that her stepmother was far too clever for that. She went to bed uneasily wondering what exactly Lilith planned to do, for it was inconceivable that she had come to a place as alien to her tastes as Veere unless she had some very good reason. Tabitha, unable to sleep, got out of bed and went and sat by the open window. The reason, of course, would be Marius, and the knowledge of this was hardly conducive to sleep; she fetched her dressing gown and a pillow from the bed and sat staring out at the quiet night sky, trying to guess what would happen.
Nothing happened—at least, not in the morning. They were on board and casting off soon after eight o’clock, calling good mornings to other boat owners doing the same thing, exchanging opinions on wind and weather in the cheerful early morning bustle echoed by the early risers going about their business around the little harbour. They glided past the hotel, the diesel chugging softly to itself, and Tabitha couldn’t refrain from a quick peep at the windows, half expecting to see Lilith looking out of one of them.
‘Not up yet,’ observed Marius, seeing her glance. ‘People who lie in bed don’t know what they’re missing.’
He smiled at her, his eyes half shut in their web of laughter lines. ‘Let’s have some sail—there’s a good breeze and we can cut the engine.’
They were all kept busy according to their various capabilities, and Tabitha, doing as she was bid, forgot her worries in the splendour of the morning and the delight of being on the smooth blue water. It promised to be hot; by the time they had reached their objective—one of the islands which dotted the lake, it would be just right for a swim. She went below to help Muriel with the coffee, feeling almost happy. At least here, in the middle of the Veerse Meer, there was no chance of meeting Lilith.
The island was everything it should have been. The invalids were helped ashore by Marius and Hans while Tabitha and Muriel set out the picnic. They had almost finished when Marius asked: ‘What about a swim first?’ The owners of the plastered legs refused for obvious reasons, Hans said he would swim later, Muriel, without hesitation, said that she couldn’t possibly until she had recovered from her crewing.
‘Come on, Tabby,’ Marius’s voice was off-hand. ‘It’s safe enough.’
She cast him an indignant look, caught up her beach bag and disappeared behind the trees behind them. She put on the bikini; after all, she had to start wearing it some time and it was very hot. When she emerged Mr Bow looked her over. ‘If I were younger,’ he said, ‘I should whistle; as it is I will content myself by saying that you look extremely eye-catching, my dear Tabitha.’
‘I shall whistle,’ declared Bill Raynard, and did while Muriel laughed and called out to her that she looked simply super, and Hans, not to be outdone, murmured in his turn: ‘Most super, Miss Tabitha.’
But Marius said nothing. He was standing by the water’s edge, waiting for her, and when she was close enough he said:
‘Come on, Tabby,’ and started to wade purposefully out to deep water. She followed him, smiling for the benefit of the rest of the party while she suppressed a childish desire to cry with disappointment. Everyone had noticed, and even if they had exaggerated a little, she knew that she really looked quite nice. Perhaps he just hadn’t noticed, but she scotched this idea at once as being silly; he had a normal man’s eye for such things and he was surely no monk.
She began to swim away from the shore without bothering to see where he was, and presently changed to a crawl, cleaving her way through the water as though it were so much glass to be splintered into fragments by her arms. When she was tired she rolled over on to her back and found him beside her, moving through the water without effort. ‘Well, that’s one way of getting rid of your temper,’ he observed.
She tossed her hair out of her eyes. ‘Temper?’ she spluttered. ‘Why should I be in a temper?’ She turned over again and began to swim lazily towards the shore and he turned with her.
‘I can think of several reasons, dear girl.’ He grinned at her. ‘I’ll race you.’
He allowed her to win by an inch or so and then walked beside her up the beach. By then the sun was so warm that they were almost dry by the time they reached the little group waiting patiently round the spread cloth.
They swam again later in the afternoon, this time with Muriel and Hans and Smith barking at them from shallow water where he occasionally made a sortie to paddle alongside anyone who came near enough. They ate a vast tea after that, and then because the wind was right, set sail for Veere. They were edging their way in amongst the other boats when Tabitha saw Lilith and her stepmother watching them from the hotel wall. They waved gaily and Marius waved back, his gesture followed more slowly by the Raynards. Mr Bow had his eyes closed, although Tabitha could have sworn that they had been open a few seconds earlier. She herself was too busy preparing to make fast to do more than smile vaguely in their direction; she doubted if they noticed anyway.
In a kind of hopeless defiance, Tabitha put on the ivory silk dress she had worn to the wedding, that evening. She had become very brown during the last few days and the contrast between the dress and her tanned skin was very effective. She put on some small old-fashioned coral earrings she had had from her mother, and a coral bracelet. She had found time to wash her hair too and had piled it with all the skill she could muster into the coils and rolls she had first tried out at Lilith’s party. She looked passable, she thought, studying herself in the big mirror in her bedroom before she went downstairs with the dull certainty deep inside her that Lilith and her stepmother would call during the evening.
They came after dinner, just as everyone had settled down to an uproarious game of Canasta, which had, perforce, to be abandoned. Tabitha, who had been feeling nervous all the evening, felt the familiar thrill of apprehension and dislike as her stepmother came into the room. Mrs Crawley was still a pretty woman and a charming one when she chose to be. Now she smiled and talked her way gracefully through the introductions before she sought out Tabitha.
‘Well, Tabitha, I must say you don’t look much like the hired help.’ She gave her a thinly veiled look of contempt. ‘My dear girl, you look more like a gypsy! Your skin’s ruined—too much sea air, I suppose, and what on earth possessed you to do your hair in that ridiculous fashion? It looks as though this holiday, or whatever you choose to call it, has gone to your head. It’s a good thing I shall be here for a week or so to advise you.’
Tabitha listened to this speech without comment while she digested the awful news that Lilith and her stepmother would be in Veere for the next week—a whole week out of the twelve days left of her holiday! When she didn’t reply, Mrs Crawley said impatiently: ‘Well, have you lost your tongue? Though God knows when you do talk you never have anything to say that’s worth listening to.’
‘In that case,’ said Tabitha quickly, ‘do come and talk to Mr Bow. He’s a most interesting man and a lifelong friend of Marius’s.’
She went away after that to the other end of the room, and sat down by Bill Raynard, who said in a grumbling voice:
‘Oh, hullo—it’s you come to plague the life out of me,’ but he pulled her down on to the sofa, giving her hand a comforting squeeze as he did so, and contrived to keep her with him for the rest of the evening. They were deep in a discussion on gardens when Marius crossed the room, pulled up a chair and sat down beside them.
‘There’s a plan afoot,’ he began pleasantly, ‘that we should join forces with young van Steen—remember we met him the other day?—he’s staying at the hotel too and has his yacht here and proposes to take Mrs Crawley and Lilith for a trip tomorrow. Lilith thinks it would be a splendid idea if we take the Piet Hein out too and meet up for a picnic. What do you think of it?’
What Tabitha thought she kept to herself; clearly it would best be left unsaid, but Bill Raynard replied with a heartiness which didn’t ring quite true: ‘My dear chap, do what you like—it sounds splendid, and after all you’re the boss, none of us would dream of opposing your wishes.’
Marius gave him a measured look from suddenly bright eyes. ‘Yes?’ he looked at Tabitha. ‘And what about you, Tabby?’
She had expurged her wicked thoughts; she even felt a little ashamed of them. ‘It sounds wonderful.’ Her enthusiasm sounded just like Mr Raynard’s heartiness, but Marius must have felt satisfied, for he got up. ‘Good, then we’ll go ahead with our planning.’
Tabitha watched him sit down by Lilith again on the big velvet sofa at the other end of the room; he was too far away for her to hear what he was saying, but she saw Lilith put a hand on his arm and look up into his face. She looked away then and encountered Mr Raynard’s eye glaring at her. He spoke grumpily.
‘I’m tired—I shall go to bed, and I want my leg rubbed, it’s aching. You can help me upstairs and give me some massage—I think I’ll have a Panadol too.’
Tabitha got him to his feet with a relief which showed in her face. It was blissful to leave the hubbub of cheerful voices and allow her stiff little smile to relax. Mr Raynard hardly spoke except to grumble, but he had said he was tired and she took no heed of his silence. She was bending over his injured leg, gently kneading its muscles when he snarled:
‘Why in the name of heaven I should come to bed early just to make things easy for you, I don’t know.’ Which remark sent her upright, staring at him. ‘You what?’ she repeated, and felt her cheeks paling.
‘Well, you were hardly surging along on the crest of a wave, were you?’ he demanded.
She gave him an agonized look and he went on rapidly: ‘Oh, don’t worry, everyone else was far too busy being the life and soul of the party—excepting old Knotty—Muriel too, I suspect, though you never can tell with women.’ His voice was testy. ‘What made you look like that anyway? What was that stepmother of yours saying to you? Or was it the sight of Lilith showing us all how to get your man?’
Tabitha’s pale cheeks took fire as she bent over her massaging once more. She had no intention of answering him, but instead asked almost humbly, because she had a great respect for Mr Raynard even though he was so short-tempered: ‘Do you think I should leave—go home?’
‘Don’t be a fool, girl—you’re clever enough at hiding your feelings, don’t worry on that score.’
Tabitha arranged his injured leg gently beside the sound one and adjusted the cradle over it. She said without much spirit: ‘You see, she’s so pretty, and—she makes h—people laugh. I feel like dough.’
‘Bread is the staff of life,’ said Mr Raynard ponderously. ‘No man wants a diet of meringues. I know—I’m married.’
The conversation was getting a little out of hand. She said soberly: ‘Muriel is a wonderful person, Mr Raynard. I’ll fetch the Panadol for you.’
He let her go, merely beseeching her on her return to remember to call him Bill.
She didn’t like the idea of going downstairs again, but she did, going into the room quietly, to be accosted almost at once by Mr Bow, who asked her with his usual old-fashioned courtesy if he might go to bed as it had been a long, although delightful day. Getting him to bed took even longer than Bill Raynard, for he was old and slow and forgetful—besides, he liked to talk, but it wasn’t until she at last had him between the sheets that he observed in his mild, elderly voice: ‘Am I right in supposing that you and your relations have little in common? It seemed to me…would it be a good idea if I were to rest here tomorrow? It would, of course, mean that I should have to ask you to remain with me.’
Tabitha bent down and gave him a quick hug. ‘You are a dear,’ she pronounced, ‘making a loophole so that I can run away and hide—but I won’t.’
His blue eyes brightened. ‘Ah, I thought you wouldn’t, but I felt that I should ask. I see that you have a militant spirit hidden away somewhere and I must say that I am glad, for I should very much like to go—I do so enjoy the role of spectator, Tabitha.’ He gave her a shrewd glance. ‘But you do not, my dear.’
Tabitha said ‘No,’ baldly, and then because her stretched nerves were in tatters: ‘Don’t you dare pity me!’
Mr Bow, quite undaunted by this show of ill-humour, patted her hand. ‘Pity,’ he stated, ‘is for those who can no longer help themselves. I have no pity for you, Tabitha, but I must confess that I have grown very fond of you. I have fancied from what I have heard—and forgive an old man his liking for gossip—that you could be compared with Cinderella, but I think that you are rather more—er—mettle-some than she was.’ He lay back on his pillows and closed his eyes. ‘Good night, my dear Tabitha.’
When she went downstairs for the second time it was to find her stepmother and Lilith gone, and Marius with them. She received this news from Muriel in silence before stating her intention of going to bed. ‘Because,’ she declared with a most realistic yawn, ‘it was a long day in the fresh air, wasn’t it? I’m half asleep.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Muriel, ‘for there’s no point in staying up; if Marius stays for a drink, he’s bound to be late. We leave at nine in the morning, by the way. It’s settled that we should sail across to the other shore where there are some woods—it sounded very remote and much further than we went today. But it seems that the wind will be right. We’re to take lunch and have a late tea and leave about six, joining the rest of the party at the hotel for dinner.’
‘What fun,’ Tabitha murmured in a hollow voice; perhaps she could sicken for something meanwhile. She and Muriel parted on the landing and she went up to her room, to sit by the window in the dark until she saw Marius’s tall figure strolling back from the hotel. He had his head bent, deep in thought; even if he had looked up he couldn’t have seen her, all the same she drew back from the window. It wasn’t until she heard his quiet footfall on the stairs below and the shutting of his bedroom door that she went to bed.
On the surface at any rate the two parties set off in the highest spirits the next morning. Tabitha, scorning competition and aware that it wouldn’t be of much use anyway, wore her slacks and a matching sleeveless sweater, its collar unbuttoned; her hair she had tied back with a scarf the colour of the water; her bikini was in her beach bag, the only defiant gesture she had made. As it turned out, it wouldn’t have mattered what she was wearing, for when they reached the Piet Hein it was to find Lilith waiting for them in white short pants and a thin silk shirt, her bright hair tied by a scarf which exactly matched her eyes. Tabitha couldn’t blame any man for staring at her; she looked as though she had stepped straight out of a glossy magazine and she was in tearing spirits. Tabitha wished her stepsister good morning and wasn’t in the least surprised when she received no answer. Lilith wasn’t likely to waste her charm upon her. Even as Tabitha turned to take the picnic basket from Hans, she had hooked her arm in Marius’s and stood looking up at him like some beautiful beseeching child. But whatever it was she wanted, she didn’t get her way, for Tabitha saw her turn away frowning until Marius called to her as she was leaving the boat. She couldn’t hear what it was he said, but it transformed the frown into a smile as she ran off to where Jan van Steen’s yacht was moored. Tabitha had met the young man briefly and had liked him. He had been, Marius had told her, a friend of his sister’s and still was. ‘More money than sense,’ Marius had said, ‘but a nice enough chap.’
Tabitha stood idly watching Lilith skip aboard the other yacht. Her stepsister would find it useful to have a young man handy with a boat and certainly a car as well. She watched Lilith talking to Jan, knowing that he stood no chance against Marius in Lilith’s clever scheming head.
The wind was fresh; the yacht flew over the water with Marius at the helm and the two girls making coffee while Hans, closely followed by Smith and advised by Mr Bow and Bill Raynard, attended to the sails. After a time they drew away from the other boat and were well ahead of them when at length they tied up at a convenient jetty. There was time to get Mr Bow and Mr Raynard comfortably installed in their canvas chairs under the trees which grew down to meet the sand, and unpack the baskets before Jan hailed them. Tabitha slipped away then, changed into her bikini and went down to the water, surprised to find Muriel already there.
Muriel wasn’t a strong swimmer; it seemed unfriendly to leave her pottering about on the edge by herself. Tabitha lay on her back, paddling along gently to keep pace with Muriel’s earnest efforts at the breast-stroke. Their conversation was spasmodic and unimportant, enabling Tabitha to keep a sharp eye on what was going on on the beach. Marius, she saw with a sorrowful resentment, had strolled down to meet Lilith, to talk for a few moments and then part again. Presently Lilith, looking stunning in a white bikini of minuscule cut, sauntered down to the water’s edge, followed almost at once by Marius. Tabitha heard him ask: ‘Are you a good swimmer, Lilith?’ and was annoyed to miss her answer. Lilith swam quite well, Tabitha acknowledged to herself, by now in a nasty temper, but she had no staying power; she hoped that Marius would take her out a long, long way so that she would get so fed up that her smiling mask would drop and he would be able to see the real Lilith.
She was sorry for the thought almost before it had crystallised in her mind; to punish herself she turned her back on the pair of them and offered to show Muriel how to do the crawl. She was still engrossed in this task when she heard them swimming towards the beach again. She heard Lilith’s laugh, a little strained and apologetic, and Marius didn’t laugh at all. She longed to look round but instead invited Muriel to swim to the nearest breakwater. They were half way there when they were overtaken by Marius. He said without preamble: ‘Lilith’s tired—I’ve left her on the beach to get her breath. Muriel, be an angel and keep her company. Tabby, come for a swim—it’s far too good to go in yet.’
She turned obediently and struck out strongly beside him, happily aware that she could match his energy if not his strength. They swam side by side, away from the shore and presently, by mutual consent, turned on to their backs. Marius, his head cushioned in his hands, lay supine, his eyes closed. After a minute he spoke.
‘You swim as you dance, Tabitha, as though you enjoyed it.’
‘Well, I do—I like doing things out of doors, though I simply love dancing.’
He opened his eyes. ‘Tabby, will you wear that pretty dress this evening?’
She flipped over and under the calm water in an easy surface dive before she answered. ‘It’s about all I’ve got with me,’ she said matter-of-factly, ‘though I bought a gorgeous dress at that boutique. So did Muriel. We’re going to give you all a surprise one evening, so don’t tell the others.’
His voice was grave. ‘No, I won’t—we seldom discuss clothes, you know.’
‘Oh, you know what I mean,’ she laughed, half exasperated, and then gave a small scream as he caught her by the heels and pulled her under. She came to the surface, her hair, loosed from its pins, hanging in a wet curtain over her face and shoulders. Marius parted it so that she could see, laughing with her, though there was no laughter in his voice.
‘Oh, Tabitha, you are such fun to be with—and so different.’
He had his hands on her shoulders as they drifted a little, treading water, and it seemed to her that his eyes had caught its colour as well as its gleam—staring up at him she felt a pleasant tingle run up her spine. She put up a hand to brush the hair away from her face and at the same moment heard her stepmother’s voice, very clear in the stillness around them.
‘I expect we’re wanted for lunch,’ said Tabitha, in a voice which shook just a little. She twisted away from him and started for the beach.
She didn’t hurry with her dressing and joined the picnic party at length, her hair tied back without any effort at glamour. She had seen her stepmother’s face when she and Marius had left the water and the expression upon it hadn’t been nice. She sat down between Muriel and Bill Raynard and although she took part in the talk, she said nothing to add to its interest, and when Knotty complained gently after they had finished their lunch that he had an aching ankle, she offered to massage it for him, so that when Marius suggested that they should all go for another swim she was able, in the most natural way imaginable, to decline.
On their own, Knotty, who had appeared to be dozing lightly, became very much awake. ‘How thoughtless I am, keeping you from all the fun.’ He sounded penitent.
‘I had a swim before lunch,’ said Tabitha gently, ‘and I like being here with you.’
‘Yes, I know. Tell me, had you never thought of leaving your job at St Martin’s, my dear Tabitha, and going a long way away? London or Scotland or somewhere similar.’
‘I couldn’t live in London, though it must be fun to stay there with someone to look after you all the time…’ She paused, a little pink, but Mr Bow was looking at her with the bland innocence of a child. ‘I had thought of going away, but you see I’m near Chidlake at St Martin’s, and it was home. I don’t think I could bear never to see it again.’
Mr Bow smoothed his beautiful white moustache. ‘Tell me about Chidlake,’ he invited.
When she had finished, skipping the more unpleasant aspects of her relationship with her stepmother and Lilith, he said gently: ‘H’m, yes—you have been dealt a backhander by fate, have you not, Tabitha? A great pity.’
‘Yes, but don’t think I’m sorry for myself, Mr Bow.’
‘I don’t, my dear young lady, that is why I like you.’ He added, ‘Marius is never sorry for himself either—I like him too.’
‘He’s very nice,’ said Tabitha inadequately while she tried to think what Marius could possibly have to be sorry about. ‘I think I’ll start getting the tea, because Hans and Smith are on board and I daresay they’ve fallen asleep.’
Tea was a protracted meal. Bill Raynard had slept for most of the afternoon and had wakened refreshed and in a mood to tell amusing stories, of which he had an endless number. Tabitha, sitting beside young van Steen, tried not to watch Lilith, sitting so close to Marius with a charming air of ownership. And once when she looked up, it was to see Marius looking down at his companion with a look of amused tolerance and something else in his face which she was unable to define. Perhaps it was love, she thought miserably; she knew so little of it that she doubted if she would recognize it if she saw it.
They packed up to go shortly after tea, because it was getting on for six o’clock and it would take two hours to get back to Veere. They all stood around, arguing lightheartedly as to who should go with whom. Tabitha took no part in the discussion and when she heard Lilith say: ‘But you promised me, Marius,’ wasn’t in the least surprised when he asked her carelessly if she would mind going back with van Steen. But even as she opened her mouth to agree Mr Bow said forcefully: ‘In that case, I shall stay here. I refuse to sail without Tabitha—she’s the only one who knows how to deal with my cramp.’
Tabitha succeeded in not looking astonished. To the best of her knowledge Mr Bow had never once complained of the cramp; she remained silent waiting for someone to speak. Muriel solved the problem by saying:
‘Bill and I will go in Jan’s boat if he’ll have us as well as Mrs Crawley, then you can have Hans and Smith and Knotty, and Lilith and Tabby to crew, Marius.’
Marius said lazily: ‘Just as you like—it really makes no difference to me.’ He turned to Mr Bow. ‘Sorry I overlooked the cramp, Knotty.’ His voice was dry.
They all made their way to the jetty where the two boats were moored and Tabitha was vaguely surprised to find Lilith beside her, for she had seen her only a few minutes previously, in deep conversation with Muriel. Her stepsister drew close to her and said in an urgent whisper: ‘Tabby—Tabby, do help me!’
Tabitha felt surprise and then concern; she asked quietly: ‘Are you all right, Lilith?’
‘My sunglasses,’ said Lilith. ‘I’ve left them where I undressed—you know, behind those trees. There was a little patch of soft grass and I put them down because I thought they’d be safe. Now I’ve got a simply awful headache, I can’t bear it without them—I shall be sick if I don’t wear them. If I could just get aboard and sit quiet for a bit. Tabby, will you get them for me?—it’ll only take a few minutes and no one’s ready to go yet.’
Tabitha said nothing; it was true, no one seemed ready to sail as yet. There would be plenty of time and it was only a short distance. She gave Lilith her beach bag to hold and asked: ‘Did you undress to the left or the right of that little patch of grass in the trees where we all were?’
Lilith looked vague. ‘Oh, I can’t remember. How mean of you to bother me when my head’s so bad. You’ll find it easily enough and you’ll see the glasses—they’ve got white rims.’
Tabitha turned away and started to walk back to the fringe of trees behind the stretch of sand. She looked round once. No one was looking her way and they were already going aboard; she would have to hurry, although she didn’t think Marius would mind waiting for her. She reached the trees and found the little grassy space in their midst where they had dispersed to dress. There were, she saw with faint unease, a great many little mossy patches. She started to search, starting on the left and working round, clockwise, and found nothing. She started once more, for it seemed to her that she had been only a few minutes, going more carefully this time, and drew a blank once more. She was just turning away when it occurred to her that Lilith might have found some other grass patch other than the one she was in. She cast around her and discovered a vague path running deeper into the trees, and presently another stretch of grass. She searched this one too, and because she didn’t like to admit defeat, searched again and then went back the way she had come, going slowly in case she had missed the glasses on the path somewhere. She was uneasily aware by now that she was keeping Marius waiting and quickened her steps, at the same time becoming aware of the regular chug-chug of engines. Perhaps Jan van Steen had already gone and Marius was waiting, surely impatient by now.
She came out on to the sand and halted, staring unbelievingly at the two yachts, already well out into the lake, and with the steady thud of their engines and the off-shore wind, she doubted if anyone would hear her. All the same she cupped her hands round her mouth and shouted, and then, when it became obvious that no one had heard her, she waved. She waved and called for a long time, running foolishly down to the end of the jetty in the absurd hope that they would hear her more easily. It was while she was there that she found her beach bag thrown down on the sand beside the jetty and realized that Lilith had sent her back deliberately and had somehow made them believe that she was on board. Her rage gave her added strength—she shouted again, although she knew it was hopeless. The yachts were too far away, and even if anyone looked back she would be but an indistinct figure; besides, it was likely that Lilith had told them that she was in the other boat. She shouted again, her voice a little hoarse, as she watched the boats round the spit of land which took them out of her sight.
And even if she had known, it would have been cold comfort to her that two people had heard her; Marius, busy in the bows of the yacht, had called without turning round: ‘I thought I heard someone calling—it sounded like Tabby.’ And Lilith, close to him said at once: ‘Yes, so did I—she’s waving from the other boat,’ and waved back just as though Tabitha were really there. Bill Raynard, watching her, said in his wife’s ear:
‘What’s that silly little fool doing? There’s no one here worth waving to, unless she’s keeping van Steen sweet.’
It was still light when they berthed. They were standing in a little group, talking over the day before they dispersed, the two stiff-legged members of the party accommodated on a convenient wooden seat, when Marius asked sharply: ‘Where’s Tabitha?’
Muriel and Bill and Jan van Steen answered him in a surprised chorus.
‘With you, of course, Marius.’ Mrs Crawley said nothing at all because she had just had a glimpse of her daughter’s face, and Mr Bow and Hans kept their own counsel—they too had seen Lilith’s face.
Marius changed from a casual, easy-going man to one who was almost frighteningly calm. ‘She was to have come with me,’ he said, very quietly, ‘but you, Lilith, said she had changed her mind and wanted to go with Jan.’ He looked with suddenly cold eyes at Lilith. ‘You waved to her.’
‘But we didn’t even see her,’ said Muriel, and was interrupted by Marius.
‘Somebody must have seen what happened to her—did she go back for anything?’
He looked at each of them in turn and Lilith last of all and when he saw her face he asked: ‘You, Lilith?’
She pouted prettily and gave him a laughing look which changed to apprehension. ‘It was—well, I thought she was with Jan—how was I to know?’
His voice was silky. ‘You sent her back for something?’
‘Yes, I had a terrible headache and I didn’t want to spoil the party by feeling rotten.’ She looked round for sympathy and got none. ‘I—I left my sunglasses somewhere in the trees, where we changed. Tabitha went back for them. I couldn’t possibly have gone all that way with my head. I suppose she couldn’t find them—she was always silly like that…’
Marius stretched out a hand and took her beach bag from her. ‘These?’ he wanted to know; his voice was soft, almost gentle, and when Lilith began to speak he cut her short, still in that same gentle voice: ‘You shall apologise to Tabitha later.’ He tossed the bag to her, turned to Mrs Crawley and said with his usual casual charm: ‘Mrs Crawley, don’t let this upset your dinner party.’
She smiled though her eyes were wary. ‘No, I won’t. Tabby will be all right—I expect someone’s picked her up by now.’
Marius didn’t reply, but said over his shoulder to Mr Raynard: ‘Bill, you see to things, will you? Hans will run you all up to the hotel in the car.’
Hans was standing at his back, large and solid and as placid-seeming as his master. Marius spoke to him in Dutch and no one knew what he said, except perhaps old Knotty, who, as usual, had his eyes closed.
Marius whistled to Smith and with a careless ‘See you later,’ went back on board, and Lilith, who had been standing silent, ran forward crying:
‘Marius, don’t go! Mother said Tabitha will have got a lift by now—but if you must go, take me with you.’ She added desperately: ‘It was a joke.’
He was bending over the diesel, but he straightened up to look at her. His voice was mild. ‘What, and spoil your dinner party? Besides, you should rest and get rid of that headache.’ He turned his back and a minute later the Piet Hein was edging her way out into the lake once more.
Tabitha sat where the trees and sand merged into each other; very erect, with her back against a tree trunk, her eyes constantly scanning the water. There had been passing boats earlier and she had waved and shouted, but the wind had freshened, carrying her voice with it, and besides, anyone seeing her would very likely think she was a camper going for an evening stroll. But there had been no boat for some time now, although she could still see pale triangles of sail merging into the evening mist. She looked at her watch and made out that it was almost nine o’clock; even if someone came back for her, it would be at least another hour—in the meantime the evening was growing cool as the sky dimmed slowly to a darker blue; only the vivid orange and red of the sun’s bedding gave light to the water and a pale gleam to the sands around her. The trees at her back were already in gloom; she glanced over her shoulder and shivered, telling herself not to be silly. She wasn’t a nervous girl, but this was a strange country and she was getting hungry and chilled, which somehow made her solitude more obvious.
She searched through her beach bag once more, in the hope that, by some minor miracle, there would be an apple or biscuit tucked in amongst her towel and bikini and other odds and ends, all so useless now. She had even left her cardigan on board when they had first landed. She sighed, and got up and began to walk briskly up and down the beach, stopping to look over the darkening water each time she turned.
It was a good half hour later when she first heard the steady thud of an engine and then saw, silhouetted against the pale sky in the west, the Piet Hein, carrying full sail, coming in fast with the inshore wind. She stood watching it, and not until the sails were reefed and the yacht was edging slowly towards the jetty did she go down its rickety length. She knew it was Marius on board, because she had heard Smith’s short bark and Marius’s voice speaking to the dog, and the fury which had consumed her died a little, swamped in the delight and relief of seeing him. He made the boat fast and the next moment she felt his arms holding her close, while Smith whined softly at their feet. She didn’t know what Marius would say; she only knew that she was disappointed when he spoke.
‘Poor Tabby—I blame myself for not making certain that you were with Jan.’ His voice was quiet and kind and unruffled. ‘Were you frightened? You’re cold—come aboard quickly.’
He led the way down into the cabin and said cheerfully: ‘Coffee in a minute. Here, put this on—it’s getting fresh.’ He threw her a thick sweater, many sizes too large, and she got into it obediently. She hadn’t said a word so far, knowing that once she started she wouldn’t be able to stop, and she didn’t know what had been said; probably Lilith had managed to lay the blame on her. Marius didn’t seem to notice her silence; he gave her a mug of coffee, liberally laced with brandy, before he sat down on a locker opposite her. ‘Lilith did it for a joke,’ he explained, his voice very even. ‘I suppose she thought you would be missed soon after we sailed, but of course I thought you were with Jan…’
Tabitha, her temper stoked by the brandy, interrupted him. ‘You said I was to go with you because of Mr Bow’s cramp—didn’t you notice that I wasn’t on board?’ Her voice, a little shrill, tailed off—of course he hadn’t noticed with Lilith there.
He gave her a thoughtful look. ‘I was given to understand that you had decided to go with Jan after all. None of them knew that you had gone back on shore, naturally Jan and I each thought you were on the other boat.’ He leaned forward and took the mug from her. ‘I’m sorry, Tabitha, it was a dreadful thing to happen. Lilith was upset…’
Tabitha said stonily: ‘I was upset too.’ She got up. ‘Are you ready to go? I’ll cast off, shall I?’
She didn’t wait for him to answer but went quickly out of the little cabin and went to untie the mooring rope. They didn’t speak much as Marius steered the boat away from land; the sails were still reefed and he was using the diesel until they rounded the curve of the shore to take advantage of the wind once more. But once they had done this and the sails were set Marius turned on the automatic steering. ‘Hungry?’ he asked.
Tabitha was coiling rope neatly on deck. ‘Yes—I’ll go below and make some sandwiches, shall I?’
He followed her. ‘You make the tea, I’ll see to the food.’
They had hot bacon sandwiches and great mugs of milky tea, sitting in the stern, side by side. The stars were out by now, and a sliver of moon, and here and there lights twinkled along the shores of the lake. They had finished the sandwiches and had begun on a large wedge of cheese Marius had thoughtfully provided, when he spoke.
‘You’re furious, aren’t you, Tabby? I am too.’ She gave him a look of surprise, although his face wasn’t easy to see in the dusk. ‘I don’t look angry, do I, but I believe that I am angrier than you. Our evening has been spoilt.’
‘I’m sorry you had to miss the dinner party,’ Tabitha rejoined waspishly, and was furious when he laughed.
‘I’m happy as I am, Tabby, although you sound as though you’re going to scratch out my eyes at any moment! As for the dinner party, we’ll have one of our own to make up for it—just us two.’
She thought he was being conciliatory, and she was no child to be coaxed into good humour. ‘It’s kind of you to suggest it,’ she said stiffly, ‘but there’s no need…’ She stopped because her bottled-up feelings and temper and fright exploded inside her, so that the tears cascaded down her cheeks and all she could do was sob. She went on crying for some time, the feel of Marius’s arm warm and comforting around her shoulders, but presently she whispered into his shoulder: ‘I’m sorry to have been such a fool—I’ve made you v—very wet.’
She sniffed and sat up and dried her eyes on the sleeve of the sweater she was wearing and he said in a kindly voice: ‘Here, have mine,’ thrust a large handkerchief into her hands and when she had used it, asked: ‘Feel better now?’
She nodded into the dark, thankful that he couldn’t see her sodden face. She wasn’t in the habit of crying often; when she did, she did it wholeheartedly, just as she danced and swam and ran her ward and, for that matter, fell in love.
Hans was waiting for them. Smith greeted him with a quiet bark as Marius turned on the powerful deck light and slid into the little harbour. Hans’s enormous hand steadied Tabitha as she jumped off the boat. ‘Not too bad, miss?’ he asked anxiously. ‘I have food waiting.’ He turned to speak to Marius who spoke to him low-voiced before he took Tabitha’s arm, whistled to Smith and walked her over to the house. Hans had left the door open and they went through the hall quietly to the kitchen at its end. The light was bright here and Tabitha turned her head away from it sharply because she knew how awful she must be looking—a useless precaution, because Marius stopped under the old-fashioned brass hanging lamp and turned her round to face him, a hand under her chin.
He stared down at her for several moments, his eyes hooded so that she had no idea what he was thinking. Unable to bear it, she muttered: ‘Oh, don’t—please don’t look at me. I’ll go straight upstairs.’
He smiled a little. ‘Why do you set such store on a pretty face, Tabitha? Perhaps no one has ever told you that a pretty face isn’t always a beautiful one, and you, my dear girl, are beautiful at this moment, red nose, puffed eyes, tear-stained cheeks notwithstanding. Now sit down—Hans will be here in a minute and we’ll have supper together, the three of us, and don’t mind him seeing you like this—he’s your devoted slave already.’
He looked as though he was going to say something else, but he didn’t, only kissed the top of her head and ruffled her already very ruffled hair.
The day, which had been so disastrous, ended with unexpected satisfaction, at least for Tabitha. Hans, beaming all over his broad, goodnatured face produced a magnificent supper which they ate at the kitchen table, decked with a very white cloth and deep blue pottery plates. They had soup first—potage Parmentier, which, Hans told them with some pride, he had made himself, and followed it with a great dish of little fried pancakes stuffed with prawns and oysters and tasting most delicately of cheese and white wine and Pernod. They were so delicious that when Hans got up from the table and returned with a chocolate soufflé Tabitha vowed she couldn’t eat another morsel, whereupon he looked so dejected that she rapidly changed her mind and then had a second helping from sheer healthy greed. Marius had gone down the little crooked staircase to the cellar under the kitchen and brought up a bottle of claret, which had the pleasing effect of making her surroundings even more pleasant than they were, a circumstance heightened by her two companions, who, in some way she was too happy to bother about, contrived to make her feel that having supper with her at one o’clock in the morning was the one thing they liked doing most. Moreover, Marius had called her beautiful—a palpable lie, of course, but very soothing to hear after her miserable day.
Warm, sleepy and full of good food and excellent wine, she thanked them both and wished them good night, to sleep the moment her head touched the pillow. She woke once in the night and decided that she would thank them again in the morning, for they had been very kind. She slept again even as she thought it.