Danger Point

Chapter 38

LISLE went out into the garden and sat under the cedar. There was always shade there even at high noon. She lay back in the swinging canvas chair and closed her eyes.

Fingerprints on her coat – handprints… She felt sick – and not only with distaste. There was a kind of horror about it. All those unseen, unnoticed prints, starting out with their black accusing stains – handprints – fingerprints – everything handled, damaged, blurred. It wasn’t only a coat that had been spoiled, it was everything. Six months ago when she had stepped into this new world, how bright, and clear, and beautiful everything had been – love, marriage, home, friendship – a family ready made for a girl who had never had one – there couldn’t have been a fairer prospect anywhere. And now it was all dashed and spoiled, the colours faded, the sunlight gone-

A line that she had heard somewhere came into her head:

“Thinned into a common air like the rainbow breath of a dream.”

When had that begun to happen? She looked back, and she couldn’t tell. There had been an imperceptible withdrawal, as gradual as the ebbing of daylight or the tide.

The tears came up under her eyelids but did not fall, and presently they dried there. She began to think what she could do. A wave of terror went over her. Perhaps she could go away – for a time. But in her heart of hearts she knew that if she went now she would never come back. She shrank at the thought. The world was wide, but it promised her loneliness, not freedom. She found that she was afraid of this promise.

She sat up, and saw Dale coming across the lawn with an impatient step. He was bare-headed and very good to look at. All at once the foolish things which she had been thinking seemed morbid and foolish. She felt sharply ashamed, and the colour rose to her cheeks.

Dale flung himself into a chair and said in a voice as impatient as his step,

“Where do you get to these days? I want to talk to you.”

“I went into Ledlington with Rafe.”

He frowned.

“Why Rafe? I would have driven you. Never mind, we’ll talk about that another time. Look here – I’ve heard from Tatham, and it’s take it or leave it. He’s got to have an answer by the end of the month, yes or no, and if Robson won’t be reasonable” – he lifted a hand and let it fall again – “well, it’ll just have to be yes.”

Her heart contracted. She said gently,

“I’m sorry, Dale.”

“Are you?” He sat up, leaning towards her eagerly. “Are you really? I believe you are. Lisle – what about having one more go at Robson? Will you? He might relent – you never know – and I should feel we’ve done everything we could. Don’t you see what I mean? I don’t want to look back afterwards and think, ‘Why didn’t we do this?’ or ‘Why didn’t we do that?’ or, ‘Perhaps Robson would have given in if we’d had one more shot.’ Darling, don’t you see?”

She nodded. It was easier than speaking. When he looked at her like that, it brought back all the times when the same look had said, or she thought that it had said, “I love you.” Now it seemed to her that it only meant, “This is something I want. Give it to me.” She had always tried to give him what he wanted. She must go on trying.

He sprang up and pulled her to her feet.

“You will? Oh, darling! Come along and we’ll see what we can do in the heart-melting line! We’ve got plenty of time before lunch. Everyone else seems to be out. Come along to the study and draft a letter!”

Lisle was to look back on the next half hour with a bewildered sense of strain. What she could not remember was how many drafts she made for a letter which was never to be despatched. Odd phrases, telling arguments, appeals, dispassionate reasoning – Dale swung from one to the other, suggesting, dictating, adding and altering.

“Take another piece of paper! Now try this! No, no, no – that won’t do! Take a fresh piece – that’s written on! How does this sound? Take it down!”

“I think it sounds a little exaggerated.”

Dale was pacing the room. She remembered how he wheeled round on her when she said that.

“Exaggerated – exaggerated? How do you think I’m feeling about Tanfield? What sort of tepid milk-and-water stuff do you think I’m made of?”

“I only meant – it’s supposed to be from me, isn’t it? Mr. Robson won’t think so if I write it like that. Oh, Dale, please-”

He came over to her and stood there behind her, leaning down to kiss her hair.

“Darling, I’m sorry. It means so much to me. If we can only get this damned letter right… That bit’s no good! Let’s try again. Take another sheet!”

It always came back to that in the end. The table was littered with discarded sheets, some closely written, some with no more than a single sentence. In the end when the lunch bell rang Dale swept them all up with a groan.

“No good going on now. We’ll give it a rest. I’ll keep these and sort them through. We’ve gone on at it too long – you look worn out.” He put an arm round her and laid his cheek against hers. “Poor tired child – I’m a brute to you, aren’t I?” She said, “No-” in an uncertain voice and slipped away. But his hand dropped on her shoulder, holding her.

“Lisle – don’t tell anyone we’re having another shot at Robson. I don’t want the others to know – I just don’t feel like going over it all. You know how it is – I’m very fond of Lal, but – she jars sometimes. I don’t want to talk about it to anyone but you.”