“What’s wrong?” said Munday. “You seem cross.”
“I’m not well,” said Emma. “And I don’t like that woman.”
“Why? You don’t even know her.”
“I know her,” said Emma. “She wants you.”
“Don’t be silly.” Munday saw Caroline seated on the arm of a chair.
'‘I can tell—a woman can always tell. She’s making a play for you.”
Munday said, “You’ve had too much to drink.”
“This is tap water,” said Emma. “That young man fetched it. I thought I was going to faint.” But Munday was staring at Caroline. He said, “How do you know she’s making a play for me? I didn’t say two words to her.”
“Something in her face—the way she was standing,” said Emma. “She stares at you.”
“Is that all!”
“And she hates me,” said Emma. “That’s the proof.”
“You’re imagining things,” said Munday.
“When I saw her come in tonight,” said Emma in a low voice, “I thought I recognized her. I was going to go over and introduce myself. But something stopped me. I took a good look at her and she glared at me in a most hateful way. And then I knew.” Emma turned to face Munday. She said, “Alfred, that’s the woman”
“Which woman?” he asked. But he knew.
Emma pressed a handkerchief to her mouth. Her eyes were large with fright and she seemed to be on the verge of tears. The anger which had masked her fear had left her, and now she looked extremely tired and rather small and defeated.
Taking Emma by the arm Munday started towards the dining room, and though he was at some distance, nearly two long rooms away, he saw Caroline clearly in the candlelight where the other guests were shadowy; she stared, searching him with her very white face, no stranger now, but so intimate she understood his longing. She had seen his conversation with Emma, and without hearing, she knew every word they had said.
12
“Is this hot or cold?” Anne Motherwell’s spoon was poised over the soup.
“It’s vichysoisse,” said Mrs. Awdry. “I hope you like it.”
“That’s means cold,” said the vicar.
“There’s always a first time,” said Jerry. Saying this he engaged the attention of the table. Everyone watched for his reaction while he took a spoonful. He smiled and swallowed. He said in a surprised voice, “Potatoes,” then, “but very tasty,” and the rest began to eat.
“Did anyone here go over to that meeting in Brid-port to protest the oil-drilling?” asked Janet Strick.
“We were there,” said Peter. “It was very encouraging to see all those concerned people.”
“What exactly are they concerned about?” asked Munday.
“Marauders,” said Anne.
“They’re planning to turn the countryside here into an industrial wasteland,” said Michael. “There’s a scheme afoot to drill for oil in Powerstock.”
“It’s got everyone up in arms,” said Awdry.
“Not everyone,” said Janet. “It looks as if they might go through with it.”
The vicar cleared his throat. He said, “Some years ago—this was before my time—they said they were going to put huge pylons through Marshwood Vale. There were protest meetings and so forth, petitions and letters to the paper. Some people were quite vocal.” He smiled. “And then of course they put the pylons up.”
“That’s always the way,” said Mrs. Awdry.
“I’ve seen them from the back of my house,” said Munday.
“Sorry about that,” said Awdry.
“It’s a rotten shame,” said Janet. “Why should the government designate this as an area of outstanding natural beauty one year and then put up oil rigs the next? I can’t fathom it.”
“They need oil,” said Jerry.
“There’s plenty of oil in the Middle East and America,” said Janet.
“I mean in Britain,” said Jerry.
“I see we’re divided on the oil question,” said Munday. He smiled at Caroline.
“What about the North Sea?” said Anne. “There’s masses there.”
“There’s none here,” said Janet.
“They say there might be,” said the vicar.
“There is,” said Jerry. “It’s here, all right. I’ve seen it running out of the ground over in Hooke— natural seepages.”
“I suppose you don’t care a damn whether they drill or not,” said Janet to Jerry.
Peter spoke to Munday. “It’s quite a problem,” he said. “People coming down here and spoiling the view.”
“People come down here and do all kinds of things,” said Jerry quietly. “I know you folks like the countryside and walks and that. So do I. But these hikers treat my property as if they owned it, break down the fences, leave the gates open for the cows to wander about in the road. I wanted to put up a cow-pen and they refused me planning permission, said I’d spoil the view.” He laughed. “Never heard that one before.” He had not taken another spoonful of his soup; he continued to talk, toying with his spoon, while the others ate. “There’s not a lot of iribney around here. If finding oil means money and jobs then I’m sorry but I’m for it one hundred percent.”
“It’s pollution,” said Anne.
Jerry laughed again. “The farmers over in Powerstock make fifty thousand pounds from a few acres of pastures and you call it pollution!”
“I didn’t chuck a good job in London to come down here and stare at an oil-rig,” said Peter. “No thanks. I’ll go somewhere else if they start that sort of thing down here. I’ve had all I wanted of smoky chimneys and factory noise.”
“I saw the drilling rig, Mr. Awdry,” said Jerry. “She looks like a Christmas tree.”
“You don’t say,” said Awdry.
“With fairy lights,” said Jerry.
“What business are you in?” Munday asked Peter. “I’m in the building trade,” he said.
“What about planning permission?”
“It doesn’t affect me.”
“Peter does up houses,” said Anne. “And very nicely, too. But I'm biased.”
“Clever chap,” said Awdry. “He gets a condemned building at auction for a few hundred pounds, fixes it up with a council grant and sells it for ten thousand.”
“Not quite as simple and profitable as that,” said Peter to Munday. “But you get the idea.”
“Bam of character,” said Michael.
“Ah,” said the vicar, pressing his hands together and looking up.
Mrs. Awdry was carrying the turkey in on a platter. She was followed by a woman in a white bib apron who had a tray of steaming dishes of vegetables. Awdry carved while his wife and the servant collected the soup plates.
Jerry said, “All this talking—I haven’t had time to finish my soup.” He took a spoonful and held it in his mouth.
“Don’t eat it if you don’t like it,” said Mrs. Awdry. “It’s just that I’ve never had it cold before,” he said, surrendering his plate. “I say, that’s a fair-sized bird.”
“A sixteen pounder,” said Awdry, still carving thin slices from the breast. “Now please tell me whether you’d like light meat or dark. Doctor Munday, I know you’ll want dark—all those years in the African bush.” Munday was angered by the laughter Awdry’s arch comment caused, and he said sternly, “Light for me, if you don’t mind.” The ticking of the mantelpiece clock became audible, timing the silence; Munday relished the pause.
Then Anne Motherwell said, “I saw a rat today.”
“Oh, good girl,” said Caroline.
“Was it a very big rat?” asked Janet.
“Average size I suppose,” said Anne. “I’d never seen one before.”