Past All Forgetting

‘Janna,’ he said resignedly. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘You’re not the only person who gets the urge to go moonlight bathing,’ she said sweetly. ‘Wouldn’t you like some company?’

‘No, I wouldn’t,’ he said with an air of restraint. ‘Be a good girl and push off—please.’

She pouted, triumphantly aware that she had the whip hand for once. ‘It’s a free country,’ she pointed out. ‘And this is one of my favourite spots. Nor is it part of your uncle’s estate. You can’t make me go.’

‘No, I can’t,’ he acknowledged. ‘I hoped I wouldn’t have to, and that asking you nicely might be enough.’

‘Oh, but it isn’t,’ she said, and smiled. ‘Now if you asked me nicely to stay—that might be different.’

‘Indeed it might,’ he said drily. ‘And what’s my next line? Come on in—the water’s fine?’

‘Thank you for the kind invitation,’ she said, studiedly polite. ‘But it may have escaped your attention that I haven’t brought my swimsuit with me.’

‘No.’ He swam in a wide circle. ‘Just as I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your attention that I haven’t brought mine either.’

Not for the world would she have admitted that it had not occurred to her.

‘Oh, but that doesn’t matter,’ she said with assumed nonchalance, thankful that the darkness hid her warm cheeks. ‘And—and I do know what a naked man looks like, you know.’

‘In practice, or merely in theory?’ The gleam of his smile mocked her. ‘Janna Joins the Permissive Society, and other titles. I suppose it makes a change from the Pony Club.’

‘Very amusing,’ she said calmly. ‘Have you heard the one about having the last laugh? It can’t be getting any warmer in that water, and I happen to be sitting on your clothes. All of them.’

‘Right on all counts,’ he agreed reflectively. ‘The situation is a little one-sided, I must admit.’ He swam round again, this time coming right up to the bank. ‘All right, Janna, I resign. Why not join me? It’s a very warm night, and I promise to turn my back like a gentleman if that’s what you’re waiting for.’

She wasn’t altogether certain what she was waiting for. She moistened her lips rather nervously. Dreams and imaginings were one thing; having them translated into quite such realistic terms as a moonlight bathing party for two in the nude, quite another.

‘What’s the matter, Janna?’ She couldn’t see the expression on Rian’s face, but the taunt in his tone was unmistakable. ‘Chicken?’

‘Certainly not,’ she said untruthfully. ‘It—it just looks a bit cold, that’s all.’

He laughed softly. ‘I’ll think of a way of keeping you warm, sweet witch.’

There had to be an answer to that, but Janna couldn’t think of it for the life of her. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she was trembling violently inside. One part of her wanted, childishly, to run, but another, more insidious voice was persuading her to remain.

When she spoke, her voice was higher than usual and oddly breathless.

‘All right,’ she said. She got up slowly, shivering a little although there was barely a hint of a breeze. The water rippled glossily as Rian swam one long, lazy stroke nearer. Her fingers, made suddenly clumsy, hesitated on the buttons of her shirt.

‘You said you’d turn your back,’ she reminded him lamely.

‘If that’s what you want.’ There was a warm persuasive note in his voice, which made her gasp as if he had caressed her. ‘Is it, lovely Janna?’

She had taken two unwary steps towards him before she realised the trap that had been set for her. Steely fingers, cold and wet, clamped round her ankle. Off balance already, she stumbled, and within a second she was flying through the air, or so it seemed, to land in the water in an undignified and painful belly-flop. She came back to the surface, winded and choking, having swallowed half the river in her astonishment.

On the bank, Rian was fastening the belt of his jeans and observing her flounderings with sardonic amusement.

‘I don’t think you’ll ever make the Olympic squad,’ he observed, judicially, pulling his dark sweater over his head. ‘But the local life-saving team might be glad of a volunteer. I’ve heard they prefer them fully dressed.’

‘You bastard!’ she screamed at him.

‘Such language from one so young,’ he said reprovingly. ‘If it’s any consolation to you, I was tempted for a while, and I’m warning you, Janna, stay in your own league from now on.’ He half turned to go. ‘And I meant what I said about keeping you warm. I don’t know how you got here, and I don’t care much. I presume you cycled, or walked, so you can get home the same way—only faster. It’s a balmy enough night. You shouldn’t even catch cold.’ He was gone.

Janna hauled herself out of the water and heard his car engine start up in the distance. Tears of rage and humiliation mingled with the drops of water on her face, as she stood dripping and bedraggled on the bank. She would never forgive him, she swore savagely to herself. And she would make him pay for this if it was the last thing she did.

She was walking round the market a few days later and had stopped to examine some remnants of material on a stall, when a hand descended on her arm and Rian’s voice close to her ear said, ‘None the worse for your ducking, I see.’

She wrenched herself forcibly free, and gave him a wrathful look.

‘No thanks to you,’ she said distinctly. ‘I might have drowned—or gone down with pneumonia.’

‘Hardly,’ he said drily. ‘I was sure somehow you’d manage to survive, Janna.’

‘Thank you.’ Her tone held bitterness. ‘I know better than to regard that as a compliment.’

He sighed. ‘Is that what you want—compliments?’

She stared down at her feet. ‘You know what I want,’ she muttered at last. ‘I want you to treat me as if I was a woman.’

‘Then stop behaving like a child,’ he said, but his voice was gentler and held a trace of laughter. ‘How old are you, Janna?’

‘I shall be seventeen in just over two weeks’ time.’ She sent him a hostile look. ‘I suppose to you I’m sixteen.’

‘Stop supposing,’ he said patiently. ‘Come and have coffee with me instead.’

‘Are you serious?’ she asked incredulously.

‘I think so.’ There was an edge to his voice. ‘It’s only a hot drink I’m offering, not an invitation to bed.’

She flushed indignantly and he gave a slight groan. ‘God help me, this was meant to be a peace move, not a resumption of hostilities. Come and have coffee, Janna.’ His thumb moved caressingly on the soft flesh of her arm, sending a pleasant tingle through her senses. He grinned at her and she thought furiously that he probably knew quite well the effect that his casual touch was having on her.

He pulled her arm through his and led her off through the market-day crowds. The town’s most popular café was situated in rooms at the rear of the baker’s shop, and they lingered to make a selection of cream cakes at the counter before continuing to the rear and finding an unoccupied corner table.

‘Well, this is pleasant.’ Rian pushed the sugar bowl towards her.

She helped herself to a spoonful, her lips compressed.

‘Please don’t patronise me,’ she said eventually.

‘Nothing was further from my thoughts,’ he returned mildly. ‘Don’t be so prickly, Janna.’

She stirred the spoon round the cup, watching the swirl of the liquid. ‘Can you blame me?’

‘Not altogether, perhaps, otherwise I shouldn’t be here.’ He reached his hand across the table and clasped hers lightly. ‘Pax, sweet witch. I can’t be your lover, but I could be your friend, if you’d let me.’

‘On the grounds that half a loaf is better than no bread at all?’ She gave him a defiant look. ‘Is it really so impossible? Funnily enough, I got the distinct impression that you fancied me.’

‘I plead guilty as charged,’ he said slowly. He released her hand and sat back in his chair. ‘Janna, you may well be counting the hours to your seventeenth birthday, but I was going through the same process ten years ago. There’s no way around that.’

‘Ten years isn’t such a tremendous gap.’

‘At this precise moment, it seems a lifetime.’ He drank some of the coffee, grimaced slightly and pushed it aside. ‘Apart from anything else, did no one ever tell you that sometimes the man prefers to make the running?’

She blushed vividly. ‘I just wanted you to notice me,’ she claimed in a low voice.

‘As if anyone with normal faculties could possibly overlook you!’ He gave her a wry look. ‘You’re a spectacular lass, Janna. If you were a few years older, you’d have to fight me off.’

‘That’s a great comfort,’ she said past the lump in her throat. ‘I think I’d better go. Thanks for the coffee.’

‘Oh, hell.’ He pushed a hand through his dark hair. ‘This is not turning out at all as I expected.’

‘Does anything ever?’ She picked up her leather shoulder bag and rose. She walked to the doorway through the clustering tables and disappeared, oblivious of the curious stares being cast in her direction from all over the room.

Janna climbed wearily off the bed and padded across the room to the window. She dragged the curtains shut with jerky movements, closing out the darkness.

She glanced restlessly around her. Her briefcase stood beside the desk in the corner. It contained her record book, among other things. She could check on her syllabus, plan her work for next half-term. Anything would be better than this constant retrospection, yet she doubted her ability to concentrate on anything more than her personal problems. Wherever she looked, Rian’s face seemed to be imprinted on her vision, dark and vengeful.

She started as the sound of the doorbell pealed through the house, and for one crazy moment, panic filled her. Then common sense came to her rescue and she told herself that it might well be visitors for her parents. But a minute or two later there was a light tap on the door and Mrs Prentiss peeped in at her.

Her brows rose a little as she saw that Janna was neither undressed nor in bed.

‘Vivien’s downstairs, dear. I told her you might be asleep …’ Her voice tailed away questioningly, and Janna forced a smile.

‘I feel much better, actually. I’ll come down.’

Vivien was waiting in the sitting room. ‘Poor old thing,’ she exclaimed sympathetically as Janna entered. ‘I didn’t know you were a migraine sufferer. How rotten! Yet I thought you looked rather peaky when you dashed off after school.’ She delved in her handbag and produced an envelope. ‘That’s why I’m here, really. What with you being out at lunch time, and then the films, Mrs Parsons didn’t get a chance to have a word with you, so she’s written you this note instead.’

‘Note?’ Janna took it, wrinkling her brow. ‘This is all very official. What is it? The sack?’

‘Hardly.’ Vivien grinned at her. ‘Of course, I was forgetting that you’d missed all the excitement at lunchtime. We’re going to have a new pupil—a little girl—and Mrs P. is putting her in your class.’

‘That’s hardly my idea of excitement,’ Janna said dryly. ‘What is she? A second Einstein?’

Vivien shrugged. ‘Who knows? Apparently she’s part Vietnamese—on her mother’s side. She has this enormously long name which means Flower of Morning—rather pretty, don’t you think?—but her father calls her Fleur.’

Janna paused in the act of tearing open the envelope. Her eyes flew to Vivien’s face with sudden, painful intensity. ‘Her father—do you mean he is European?’

‘And how,’ Vivien said cheerfully. ‘In fact you probably know him. Beth and Lorna do, anyway, and they were very impressed. Apparently his uncle used to live hereabouts some years ago. And even Bill’s heard of the nephew—Rian Tempest. Says he’s some kind of high-pressure journalist. Whenever trouble flares up anywhere in the world, he’s the first correspondent to be parachuted in and all that. Rather him than me, that’s all I can say.’

Janna lowered her gaze to her note, but Mrs Parsons’ neat handwriting danced madly in front of her eyes.

‘Do you remember him, Janna?’ Vivien persisted.

‘Possibly.’ Janna was amazed to hear how calm she sounded. ‘But I—I don’t remember him being married. How old is the little girl?’

‘Seven-ish, I suppose. She’d have to be, for your class. And bright for her age—but then all proud dads think that.’

‘I suppose they do,’ Janna said automatically, her brain whirling.

‘As for him being married,’ Vivien’s voice lowered confidentially, ‘Mrs Parson got the impression that the least said about that the better. I think it was one of these wartime things where no one worried about an actual ceremony.’

‘I see,’ Janna said bleakly.

Vivien’s eyebrows rose slightly. ‘Don’t look now, but your disapproval’s showing,’ she said.

Janna shook her head. ‘It isn’t entirely that,’ she tried to justify herself. ‘I was just thinking about Colonel and Mrs Tempest. About how they would have felt—if they’d known.’

Vivien looked at her shrewdly. ‘Perhaps they would have reacted more tolerantly than you suppose,’ she said. ‘Older people are often less extreme in their attitudes than they’re given credit for.’

Janna sat down on the edge of the sofa, the unread note still clutched in her hand. ‘From what I remember of them, I hardly think so.’ She tried to sound casual. ‘I think they were both concerned about the apparent decline in moral standards. Neither of them had any sympathy for promiscuity …’

‘Hold hard!’ Vivien sounded a little startled. ‘Neither of us knows the true facts. We could be condemning as promiscuous one stable relationship. The fact that there’s a child for whom he has assumed the responsibility must surely prove that the affair was deeper than a one-night stand.’ She laughed a little uncertainly. ‘I don’t know why I’ve been picked for the role of Devil’s advocate. I believe in marriage, and I’m sure it’s the only successful environment for bringing up children. It’s just that I’m surprised to hear someone as young as you sounding so—so …’

‘Intolerant?’ Janna supplied rather dryly. ‘Well, perhaps I am. I—I just feel so sorry for this little girl, that’s all.’ She read her note quickly. ‘Mrs Parsons thinks she may need extra tuition. She says here there may be a language problem. That Fleur is more fluent in French than in English.’ She gave a little groan of dismay. ‘That’s all I need—a multi-lingual tot!’

Vivien grinned. ‘Let her teach the others French,’ she suggested, fastening the belt of her coat. ‘No, love, no coffee, thanks. Bill will be sitting at home right now with his tongue hanging out, waiting to be fed. I dare not keep him waiting any longer, or he’ll start eating the table mats.’

After Vivien had departed, calling a cheerful goodbye to Mrs Prentiss, Janna walked over to the window and stood staring out into the darkness. It seemed that all her worst forebodings were being realised. Rian had returned, and was back to stay, or so it seemed. Why else would he have sought a place for his child in the local primary school if he did not intend putting down roots of some kind?

Yet what was there for him? she asked herself restlessly. He no longer even had a home here. She shook her head wretchedly, trying to imagine his reaction when he discovered who was planning to live in his former home. There was a terrible irony in the situation. She had caused an irreparable breach between Rian and the only family he had in the world, and by doing so had robbed him of his inheritance. Now she herself was to benefit.

A line from a play—Shakespeare? she wondered tiredly—began to beat in her brain. ‘No good can come of this.’

If Rian had simply contemplated a flying visit back to old haunts, she might have been able to bear it. In many ways, she had been half-expecting it. But the thought of him as a permanent resident in Carrisford, observing her comings and goings, watching her living in his family’s house, was not to be borne.

But she would have to bear it unless … for a brief moment she weighed up the chances of persuading Colin to move elsewhere, then dismissed it as madness. If she even suggested such a thing, he would demand, and be entitled to, a full explanation of her motives, and that she did not feel capable of giving. Besides, she knew he would never agree, no matter how convincing her arguments.

Colin, she thought wryly, knew when he was well off. It was unlikely that he would have got so far so fast with any other firm. She paused abruptly, her hand going to her throat in a little frightened gesture as she realised that this was the first time she had ever admitted this to herself. It was one of the uncomfortable thoughts she had always resolutely pushed away to the back of her mind. Now it had surfaced at last, along with all the others, and could never be relegated again. The diamond on her left hand seemed to glint coldly at her and she shivered. The sensation that all her safe, secure world was falling to pieces around her was stronger than ever. So many things she had never allowed herself to think about, and now they were all jostling for utterance. Her dislike for Colin’s father, for instance, with his self-importance and smug satisfaction at his own success, and coupled with this her vague dissatisfaction that Colin had never wanted to cut free and see what he could achieve on his own, without his father’s all-pervading influence.

She turned away from the window, crumpling Mrs Parsons’ note and sending it spinning on to the fire.

I should never have come back here, she thought despairingly. I’m blaming Colin for what I didn’t do myself. I should have struck out on my own. Travelled—I said I always wanted to—taken a job abroad. And unbidden, the traitorous thought came to her mind that she still could.

She groaned aloud. To run away—was that the answer? Once before, she had been a coward, and that was why she was confronted by her present predicament. There was nothing to be gained by running away. She would have to stay and face whatever there was to face. That would be her punishment.

But as she went slowly back upstairs to her room, it chillingly occurred to her that—for Rian—that might not be enough.

It was not a pleasant weekend. On Saturday morning, Janna shopped for her mother, all the time keeping a wary eye open for Rian’s car, but she saw no sign of the vehicle or its occupant.

During the afternoon Colin picked her up, and they went for a drive before returning to his father’s house to have dinner. Sir Robert was in one of his most expansive and self-congratulatory moods, and Janna found she was having to work hard to conceal her irritation. He had pulled off some deal concerning shares, and although she did not fully comprehend the ins and outs of the situation, she did gather that this coup had been at the expense of a business rival, and could not join in Colin’s obvious enthusiasm for his father’s acumen.

When the exquisitely cooked and served meal was over, Sir Robert turned to more personal topics.

‘Now that you’ve found somewhere to live, I suppose you’ll be fixing a date?’

‘Somewhere to live?’ Janna began uncertainly, and Sir Robert, who was lighting a cigar, gave her a sharp look.

‘Why, yes. Colin told me he had first refusal on the old Tempest place. A fine house that. Just what you need. And you’re to have carte blanche in furnishing it. Just choose what you want and send the bills to my secretary. I can’t say fairer than that.’ He sat back with a pleased air, expelling a cloud of smoke, and waiting to be thanked.

Janna swallowed, avoiding Colin’s glance. ‘The thing is—I’m not sure …’ she began again.

‘Not sure about what?’

Janna was uneasily aware that she had Sir Robert’s undivided attention, and that the pleased air had dissipated to some extent. His voice, in fact, held the slight bark which indicated his suspicion that he was about to be told something he did not particularly want to hear. Janna had never personally experienced this before. She had always been treated with a rather fulsome kindness in the past.

Colin came to her rescue as she searched for words.

‘Janna isn’t totally sold on Carrisbeck House,’ he said, sounding deliberately casual.

‘And why not, may I ask?’ Sir Robert glared at the pair of them, his pleasure in the meal and his cigar destroyed by this strange obduracy. ‘It’s a fine property, and the fishing rights go with it. What’s the matter with it, I’d like to know?’

‘Nothing,’ Janna answered desperately. She moistened her lips. ‘You see, I knew the Tempests, and the thought of living in their old home—and the size of the place—rather overwhelms me, that’s all.’

‘Oh.’ Sir Robert digested this for a moment. ‘Well, you’re going to be a Travers, my girl, so you’ll have to learn not to be overwhelmed.’

‘Janna knows that, Dad,’ Colin broke in soothingly. ‘But I don’t want to rush her into anything she’s not happy about, so I’ve given her a few days to come round in her own way.’

‘Fair enough, I suppose.’ Sir Robert sounded slightly mollified. ‘But don’t take weeks over it, lass, or some fly character will be in ahead of you.’

For one moment Janna was tempted to ask Sir Robert if he had known Rian, or if he was aware he was back in the locality, but she remained silent. Any such reference on her part could lead to precisely the sort of cross-examination she most wanted to avoid, she thought.

She spent the evening watching television in a desultory manner while Colin allowed his father to beat him at chess.

Later, as Colin drove her home, she sat quietly beside him, hoping against hope that he would not raise the subject of the house again. But she was disappointed. As the car slid to a halt before her gate, Colin said almost too casually, ‘I shall have to let Barry know about the Tempest place by Monday, Janna. You’d better let me have your decision one way or another tomorrow.’

‘Your father seems to think there’s only one decision to be made,’ she said, trying to smile.

‘Oh, you know Dad.’ He was silent for a minute. ‘Besides, he has rather a vested interest in the place, I’m afraid.’

‘I don’t really see why.’

‘No.’ Colin paused again and then said ruefully, ‘I’ll have to tell you, darling. He’s already had an architect to look at the place and draw up some plans to convert the old stables and garage block into a luxury flat for himself. Says his house is too big now that he’s on his own. Wants to be near us—and his grandchildren.’

Janna’s mouth was suddenly dry. ‘I see.’

‘Do you, darling?’ He drew her into his arms and kissed her, but for the first time in their relationship, she was incapable of more than a token response. ‘I was hoping you would. He’s not getting any younger, after all, and he wouldn’t actually be living with us. Mrs Masham would come with him, to cook for him and look after him generally.’

Janna shook her head. ‘I can see he has it all worked out,’ she said more calmly than she felt.

Inwardly, she was seething with anger. This—this was moral blackmail, she told herself. If she turned Carrisbeck House down now, it would seem as if she was doing it because she did not want her future father-in-law living on the premises. She bit her lip. She had been surprised by the uncharacteristic generosity of his offer to furnish the house. Sir Robert had never believed in throwing what he termed ‘good brass’ about on anything which did not directly concern himself or his own comfort. Now she understood the motive behind the offer, she would rather live with bare boards and orange boxes than accept, she thought, her temper mounting.

‘Janna?’ Colin’s voice was questioning, his mouth persuasive against her ear. ‘You wouldn’t really mind, would you, darling? An old man’s whim? He may not even go through with it. And he’s very fond of you, you know.’

She gave an edged smile, disengaging herself from his arms. ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ she answered quietly. ‘I won’t pretend that this hasn’t been a shock, Colin. I had no idea your father was thinking along these lines … However, you’d better go along with the purchase, as it’s what you both want.’