Penny Plain, page 17
`You can't do that here in the middle of a cornfield!'
'Of course not. You'd better come back with me to the house.'
'Your house?'
'Naturally. It's hardly very sensible to go back for my bag, then walk all the way to the Court, is it?'
'I suppose not.'
`But then you aren't very sensible, as you've told me
before, are you, Emma Penelope? Come on.'
He held out a hand to pull her to her feet and she took it unprotestingly. It was, she thought, at least a sign of good-will when he addressed her as Emma Penelope.
He made no effort at conversation as they went down the lane and Emma walked beside him wondering a little sadly if this would be the last occasion that she would visit Plovers Farm.
'I'm leaving Marian as soon as she finds a replacement,' she announced abruptly.
'Are you?' he said, but didn't sound very surprised, and as she walked up the path to the house ahead of him, he asked suddenly: 'Haven't I seen that dress before? You wore it, if I remember, that first day you came searching for your old home, none too pleased to discover the identity of the present owner.'
'That's not true! I was only surprised, as anyone would be, and you were very civil about my gatecrashing — or rather it was poor Flight who did the crashing, chasing a hen into your flowerbed.' Her voice faltered slightly, remembering the dog in the full vigour of his life and beauty, and Max thrust her into the small room off the kitchen which he used as a dispensary and told her rather sharply to sit down and not to chatter while he got on with his job.
She sat silently while he performed the small operation with speed and efficiency, rather resenting his supposition that she might treat him to a scene. He hurt her a little, for the flesh had healed too quickly and the stitches left too long. He swabbed a tiny speck of blood away and unexpectedly stooped and touched his lips to the scar.
'Why did you do that?' she asked, but if she hoped for a romantic reply she was disappointed.
'An infallible nursery formula — kiss it and make it
better,' he said with a smile, and ordered her back to the living-room for a glass of sherry.
`You think I'm a child still, don't you, Max?' she said, looking at him over the rim of her glass with grave, unhappy eyes, and quite suddenly he seemed to discard that familiar attitude of careless fondness as if he had been waiting for a particular moment.
'No, Emma, I don't, though you've done your best to remind me.... Prickles and high horses and ridiculous notions about kennelmaids; blowing hot and cold, and exhibiting a flair for misinterpreting human reactions and behaviour which would never occur to a well-adjusted adult.'
'Well!' gasped Emma. 'Of all the nerve! You slap me down and pick me up and then slap me down again so that I never know whether I'm coming or going, and then you accuse me of blowing hot and cold and mis — misinterpreting whatever it was!'
He leaned back in his chair regarding her steadily, while a slow smile touched his mouth and finally reached his eyes.
`Yes, well ... perhaps I've been a bit blind, too. I hadn't allowed for the odd defences of the very young, just as you seemed unable to recognize plain, common or garden jealousy when you got a taste of it!' he said. 'My not very edifying behaviour in the car that day should have warned you that I'm by no means proof or insulated or whatever this strange image you've built up for me may be.'
'Well, I knew of course something had upset you, but I thought it was Marian and you were taking it out on me.'
`Marian? Didn't you believe me when I said the only reason I'd come to that confounded show was to keep an eye on you? You made it so plain that you preferred anyone's company to mine despite your encourag-
ing little lapse when the tent collapsed, that I was reduced to behaving with a lamentable lack of sense and discretion. You see, I flattered myself that I had been conducting my courtship rather well, and had been given a few heartening signs of reciprocation, so when you virtually accused me of being no better than some of your gentlemen friends who have passing designs on kennelmaids, my ego received something of a jolt.'
'Courtship?' echoed Emma.
'A good old-fashioned word, if out of date. How would you define that particular state of hope and expectancy?' he said, but she was too chary now of snatching at miracles because she wanted to believe in them to commit herself, and replied, taking refuge in prim sedateness:
'I wouldn't know. Marian set me right on any mistaken ideas I might be harbouring on the way to the show that day. She pointed out the embarrassment that can be caused when a few mild attentions are taken too seriously and reminded me of the habit silly young girls had of losing their heads.'
'And that, translated, means?'
'It means that she said I was chasing you — setting my cap is the polite word, I believe, and I wouldn't be the first — which I don't suppose I am,' Emma snapped back, goaded into naturalness, adding, with a hasty retreat again behind her defences: 'I'm sorry if I did embarrass you, Mr. Grainger, but I wasn't to know you'd complained.'
'Well, for heaven's sake! ' he exclaimed, springing out of his chair and pulling her to her feet in one violent movement. 'Are we back where we started? Mr. Grainger, forsooth! And what the hell do you mean by suggesting I'd complained? Haven't you got into your head yet that I'm trying to propose to you, you
little idiot? What do you want me to do? Go on my knees for failing you over the dog? Is that what you can't stomach?'
'No — no, not now,' she answered in confusion, still unsure that she was hearing him alright, and because she was more exhausted than she knew from the conflicting struggles of the past days. She wanted to weep and be comforted, as much for her own shortcomings as the pain he had been unable to spare her.
'I will apologize now for my outburst yesterday, Max,' she said. 'I shouldn't have spoken as I did, because you were only doing your job, but I was so sure, you see .. well, anyway, I'm sorry. I think perhaps I hurt you.'
'Yes, you hurt me deeply with those unjustified taunts, but it was understandable, I suppose. What you should apologize for is your lack of trust,' he said, and she replied with the sharp bitterness of a wound scarcely healed:
'It wasn't my lack of trust that did the damage, it was the smack in the face when I was proved wrong.'
The tenderness was suddenly back in his eyes and a forbearing patience.
'That's a smack in the face comes to all of us at one time or another,' he said quite gently, and there was a faint twinkle in his eyes. 'Now, shall I hold your high horse while you dismount, Miss Clay? Better to climb down with dignity than be tumbled off, as I've told you before, and I warn you I'm quite prepared to tumble you off myself if there's any more nonsense.'
She began to weep, partly in defeat, and partly because the expression in his face was at last plain to read, and he took her into his arms, murmuring the endearments, and asking the anxious questions that assured her at last she need hold out no longer.
'I'm not proof, you see,' he said gently as her arms
went round his neck, 'not proof at all when it comes to falling in love at an age when I should have long since settled down.... Your old home will rejoice to have you back, Emma Penelope, and I, after a hard battle, will come to my reward if you will have me... .'
Out in the kennels the setter gave an impatient bark and she said drowsily, lifting her head from Max's shoulder:
'Can't Rusty come in? He won't take kindly to me as his new mistress if he's shut away in disgrace.'
'Ready to lose that tender heart yet again to the first dog that comes along?' he said. 'I warn you, I'm not sharing your affections with Rusty, so restrain those ill-considered impulses. I'll go and let the perisher in.'
She filled both their glasses while he was out of the room, then paused by an old wall-mirror to examine her reflection with shy curiosity, wondering what another might see there. For a moment she did not recognize the face that stared back at her, so unfamiliar did it seem with that strange touch of incandescence which lent it a fleeting moment of beauty. Penny Plain . . . she murmured, remembering, suddenly, so many disconnected things, and sat down again to wait impatiently for Max's return.
She heard his voice and the excited scamper of Rusty's feet in the passage, but Max must have checked him from too vigorous an onslaught, and she called to him encouragingly. At the sound of her voice the door burst open, and a frenzied golden streak of living bone and beauty hurtled across the room and into Emma's arms.
For a moment she was shocked into immobility, and a horrid suspicion that she was momentarily deranged, then with an answering cry, she flung her arms round Flight's neck, babbling incoherent words while she
felt his warm, wet tongue licking up the tears which began pouring down her face again.
'Well now, it was worth a bit of underhand misrepresentation to witness that reunion,' Max said from the doorway, and Emma was aware that he must have been watching them for some time. She sprang to her feet and ran to him, crying and laughing by turn.
'But I don't understand! What happened? Did you sneak him here and pretend you'd carried out Marian's orders, and how on earth do you hope to get away with it? Oh, Max, I could hug you — I could hug you and never let you go!'
'Well, there's nothing to stop you!' he retorted mildly, then caught her up and sat down in the nearest chair with her on his knees. 'I'll explain if you try to be sensible and don't start leaving me immediately to shower blandishments on your first love, but before that, might I be allowed to take you to task for those very unjust accusations you levelled at me when I came to collect what was lawfully mine?'
'But how was I to know? Why didn't you tell me?' she protested, those same bitter accusations returning in half-remembered snatches.
'I did try to reassure you when I first arrived, but I suppose with your usual penchant for misinterpreting good intentions, you didn't get the message. Later, I was too hurt and angry to explain.'
'But how could I have thought anything else? You said you'd had your orders.'
'So I had — orders to collect the dog and drop my cheque in the post in the morning.'
'You've bought him? But how did you ever persuade Marian?'
'Well, as a matter of fact it was your friend Dawson who did the persuading. I never liked the chap, but he has a pretty line in dealing with spoilt beauties.
He'll make her a good husband.'
'Do you mean she's going to marry him?'
'I shouldn't be surprised. This holiday home idea is going ahead, I understand, if the lawyers find everything satisfactory. It would seem quite a shrewd move to consolidate the partnership in other ways, wouldn't you think? I imagine the capricious Miss Mills, for all her desire to distribute her favours and collect scalps in return, is a highly moral young woman in the stricter sense of the word.'
'Yes. Yes, I think she probably is. Max, I'm no good at Marian's game. I've never loved anyone before, and I can't pretend....'
He glanced down at her, but he could not see her face pressed against his shoulder, for a tangled sweep of hair was falling across it, and his hold tightened a little.
'Who wants you to pretend, my foolish love?' he asked softly. 'It was that very quality of truthfulness and tender simplicity in you that stole my heart away.... Never pretend with me, again, Emma . you can forget those protective prickles and that proper pride ... they've served their purpose....'
'Yes ... they've served their purpose ...' she echoed on a deep sigh of fulfilment, and turned her mouth up to his.
Much later, she said, returning to more prosaic matters and sounding a little anxious:
'I hope you didn't pay a ridiculous price for Flight. He's my love and treasure, but he's not worth a great deal now.'
'He's worth every penny of his price to me. He was my trump card, you see.'
'Your trump card?'
'Well, if I'd needed a bribe, I had one up my sleeve. The dog — my home — both of which you had fallen in
love with.... I wouldn't have hesitated to use them both shamelessly if you'd stood out against me.'
'Dear Max ... didn't you know I could never have stood out against you? I'd already added you to the inaccessible idols at whose feet I had laid my heart,' she said softly, then slipped off his knee and went to stand by the open windows and look out at the garden bathed in the evening sunlight, trying to recapture the mood of that first uninvited admittance to his home ... the home which long ago had been hers and which was offered to her again.... I've fallen in love with your house, she had told him at parting, and he had countered with the salutary retort that she would seem to lose her heart rather easily.... Had she been losing it then, she wondered, not to his home, but to him?
He had risen and joined her at the window, aware, with a delicacy she had yet to discover in him, that she needed those moments of withdrawal, then turned her gently round, cupping her chin in one hand to tilt up her face for a long, grave instant of scrutiny. He saw her eyes hazy with thoughts that he could not share and his own became demanding.
'What is it?' he asked with faint roughness. 'Are you shutting me out again?'
She reached up to smooth away the two little lines of tension which had appeared either side of his mouth, and the discovery that for him, no less than for her, there could be moments of pain and uncertainty seemed to answer all the doubts and questions of the past.
'I've never shut you out, my dearest dear,' she told him with loving simplicity. 'It was always the other way round, only now I think I can understand.... Will you go on slapping me down when we're married?'
`Most certainly I shall if you drive me to it. And talking of slapping reminds me, young woman, that I have a score to settle with you,' he said, and she smiled, knowing that he was relieved at being able to slip back momentarily into the more familiar role he had chosen to present to her for so long. It would be a little while, she realized in her new-found wisdom, before he was able to bring himself to expose his innermost self without armour.
`I wonder why Dawson bothered,' she said with seeming irrelevancy, but he only smiled in comprehension and answered:
`Do you? He told me afterwards that he owed you a good turn. It was his way, I think, of cancelling out idle mischief. He said to tell you that ... that you'd understand.'
'Oh! ' She gave a soft little sigh. I've been wrong about so many things, haven't I?'
`Well, you couldn't be blamed for some of them, I suppose, but—' his voice changed to the brusque, uncompromising tones he used in his professional capacity – I catch you getting on that high horse again where I'm concerned, or slapping my face for want of a little self-control, you'll be taught a lesson you won't forget in a hurry this time, so be warned, Miss Emma Penelope Clay.'
`Yes, Mr. Grainger,' she replied with mock meekness. try to give satisfaction, but there's one thing against you if I don't, I'm afraid.'
`And what's that?'
`You won't be able to sack me!'
Sara Seale, Penny Plain
