The lonely shore Page 12

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  OVER lunch, David broke the news that dare was leav-mg them. Jenny was most upset, for she had become very much attached to her, but Miss Lancaster, who might have been expected to express some astonishment at this abrupt departure, took it surprisingly calmly. So calmly, in fact, that Clare felt distinctly uneasy. She knew that if the old lady questioned her she would not be able to elaborate on the pretext of the "excellent post in London" which David had fabricated. Although she shared his desire not to worry his aunt, she felt that it would have been better to tell her the truth. His motive for concealing the real reason for her leaving was not clear to her; unless it was that he thought his aunt might try to reconcile them, which would only be an added embarrassment. "In that case I had better put the finishing touches to my picture," Miss Lancaster said when she learned that Clare intended to leave Creek House on the Saturday. "I suppose you will want to get on with your book, David, but perhaps you could spare Clare for an hour this afternoon." "By all means," he said. Immediately after the meal they retired to the spare bedroom which was being used as a studio. "I expect you are tired after last. night, my dear. It won't take long." She worked in silence for some minutes and then said, "Tell me, have you been happy here?" "Yes, very happy," Clare said. To a great extent this was true. She had come to love the quiet village and the vast silent marshes. For Miss Lancaster and Jenny and H^lda she felt a sincere affec167 1 - had^neTro:^ m her rclatioDS w^ ^avid that thing. : Tha^S^^^^^^datrifle. stay with us." p c you ^g^ Prolong your Clare glanced sharply at her hn, kthe easel ' ' but sh& ^s hidden by Yes, I wasn't thinking about the book " I don't understand?" ^o^^^^^S"100^1011^^^^^s^^^^^ with guilty dismay Clare ealL^^@ n^T0"' and ^ated his aunts credit, ^ @not^^^ saidSS? ^uJt T^ ^deceive you'" ^ @ @ . we both felt. 0^ dear f- ^ncaster ^"g111 now." @ un dear' lt s so difficult to explain ^^^K^^ ^ P@e, is leave is the easiest way out" lmpasse and to abo^im?^ scariet- Did @@^.know how she felt "We had a row," she said miserably "T temper and was very rude ,n hf^ T y' L- @ @ I lost "y^at @ ^ rode to him. I couldn't stay after cas^sLT1 m tbmkmg that you love ^?" Miss Lan^:^^Se'%^^^it.Tnenshe But he doesn't love you'?" abaTe^? her head- was the- t@ be no limit to her 168 ""He has never really'liked me, and after what I said to him this morning I should think he must hate me,81' she said wearily.To her relief Miss Lancaster did not pursue the subject. Half an hour later she threw down her brushes and said, "There! Finished at last! Now come and tell what you think of it." ^ dare walked round the front of the easel and gazed at the picture.After some minutes she said quietly, "It's very good. Much too flattering, of course, but the colours are beautiful and you can almost feel the slipperiness of that seaweed in the foreground." "It isn't at all flattering," Miss Lancaster said bluntly. "You have a lovely and sensitive face, my child, and I think I may say that I have managed to catch quite a creditable likeness." She lit a cigarette and surveyed the finished work with a critical eye.The picture showed dare leaning on a rock looking down into a shallow pool. The background was shadowy and there was a suggestion of glistening scales and gossamer fins. The flesh of the face and arms had a faintly greenish tinge, and the whole picture was dominated by the silky mane of burnished red-gold hair. Without understanding any of the technicalities of painting, dare recognised that it was an extremely accomplished piece of work, and for an amateur artist of Miss Lancaster's age it ' was something of a triumph. "If I were you I should try to get an hour's sleep before tea. David has gone out, and you can't work until you've had a rest," Miss Lancaster advised her. "Run along, my dear. You look fit to drop." Because by this time, she was feeling the full effects of her sleepless night and the stormy passage in the study, Clare did not argue. She went up to her bedroom, took 169 off her dress and lay down under the counterpane. Almost immediately she fell into a heavy sleep. She was roused by a gentle pressure on her shoulder. "I've brought you a cup of tea," Jenny said softly. "Do you feel better?" "M'm, I was desperately tired," dare said, sipping the hot sweet tea and wishing she could stay where she was for the rest of the day. "I'm sorry you're going back to London," Jenny said. "Couldn't you possibly stay a bit longer?" "I'm afraid not, Jenny-wren. You must send me a postcard if you go to Bangkok for Christmas." She tried to sound cheerful. "Yes, I will," Jenny promised. "Anyway, I'm glad you came to work for Uncle David. It would have been ghastly if we'd got another Bunberry-ish secretary." "Poor Miss Bunberry. Will you ever forget her?" "I shouldn't think so," the little girl said solemnly. "You can't forget people who are as awful as that." After tea dare slipped on a mackintosh and walked through the village to the Hall. A light rain was falling, and it seemed to her that the first hint of autumn was in the air. Henderson looked slightly surprised when she knocked at the door and asked if Paul was at home. He asked her to wait in the morning-room and went in search of his master. A few moments later Paul hurried in. "Clare! My dear girl, why didn't you ring up? I would have come to fetch you. Are you very wet?" "No, hardly at all. I wanted a walk." He took her raincoat and flung it on a chair. "Come, into the library," he said. 170 It was not until he had settled her in a comfortable chair by the library fire and poured out two glasses of sherry that he said, "Well, now, this is a very unexpected pleasure. I thought you didn't approve of visiting me." "I had to come," she said slowly. "Paul, do you remember what you said to me this morning?" "It's not the kind of thing that slips one's mind in a matter of hours, my dear," he answered with a dry smile. "I asked you for time to think about it. That was very wrong of me. I came to tell you that I can't marry you, Paul." "I see." Whatever his emotions were, they were not reflected in his face. "Are you sure that is your final de-cision?" he asked gently. "Yes, quite sure." There was a long silence while he contemplated the amber liquid in his glass. At last he said, "It's odd the way life works out. When you first came here I believe I could have made you love me. You hadn't begun to care for David then. At that time I thought of you as just a beautiful and rather intriguing girl. By the time I found out that you were more than that, much more, I'd lost my chance. Well, that's the way it goes." He tossed his cigarette into the fire. "What happens now?" "I'm leaving ... on Saturday. I ... things came to a head this morning. It's better to go as soon as possible." "Have you got anywhere to go to?" "No, but I shall soon find another job." "Was it because of what happened at the dance?" "Partly. It would have happened sooner or later." "What a fool David is," he said with the first trace of bitterness. Clare stood up. 171 "Good-bye, Paul. Thank you for all your kindness to me. I wish it hadn't to end like this." He smiled. "Perhaps it has been worth it. At least you restored my faith in women. Write to me if you ever have a spare moment. I should like to hear how things are going with you." He took her hands in his and looked down at her. pale, unhappy face. Then he put his arms round her and kissed her on the cheek. "Take care of yourself, my dear. If you should ever change your mind. . . ." He let her go, and, half-blinded by tears of pity and regret for having hurt him, she ran out of the room, snatched up her mackintosh and let herself out. It was raining more heavily now, and by the time she reached Creek House her hair was plastered to her forehead and a trickle of water was seeping down between her shoulder-blades. As she crossed the hall Miss Lancaster called, "Is that you, dare?" She paused m the sitting-room doorway. "Good gracious, how wet you are! Run up and change. Hilda has just made some coffee, so don't be long." dare hurried upstairs and spread her mackintosh on the towel-horse. She changed her shoes, dried her face, and, without bothering to retouch her make-up, went down to the sitting-room. "I'm just about to unveil my work of art," Miss Lancaster said, waving her hand towards the canvas which was propped against the bookcase, still covered by its muslin wrapper. "Oh, do hurry up. Aunt Leo," Jenny urged her. "I'm longing to see it." Miss Lancaster put down her cup and moved across to the bookcase. Then with a swift, dramatic gesture she threw back the wrapper and stood aside. 172 To dare, the next few moments seemed interminable. She had had no idea that the old lady intended to make a ceremony, and was acutely embar
rassed, not only for herself but for David, who would be obliged to make some comment. "Gosh, it's marvellous!" Jenny was the first to break the silence. "And what is your opinion, David?" Miss Lancaster asked. He studied the picture with narrowed eyes. "It's a clever piece of work," he said briefly, and then, with a murmured apology, he stood up and walked out of the room. Miss Lancaster watched him go and a faint smile lingered round her mouth. @ @ @ * dare's last few days at Creek House dragged past. She wrote to a reputable employment agency in London asking them to find a vacancy for her, although she had more or less made up her mind to join her brother in Kenya. During their working hours David maintained a @ cold courtesy and she, in turn, made a determined effort to behave as if the situation was a normal one. On the morning of her last day he said suddenly, "Have you enough money to keep you going until you get another job?" "Yes, thank you," she said politely. He looked at her for a moment with an expression which she could not constme. Then he gave a slight shrug and resumed his dictation. That evening dare was packing the last of her things when there was a piercing shriek from below. She rushed downstairs and met Hilda coming out of the sitting-room as if the devil were after her. "What's the matter?" dare asked sharply. @ 173 "Oh miss it gave me such a turn! Who could have done such a wicked thing? What'U Miss Lancaster say? I couldn't believe my eyes. Dear, oh dear, there will be a to-do when I tell her." "What has happened? What are you talking about? dare asked bewilderedly. "Why, the picture, miss." Hilda mopped her brow with the'hem of her apron and sank down on one of the hall chairs. "What about the picture?" "It's got a great hole in the middle of it. The size of a plate. AH that work wasted. Miss Lancaster will be up
  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  "ARE you all right, miss?" The words registered in dare's mind with no more significance than a chance remark overheard in a crowded bus. It was not until a hand tapped her shoulder and the question was repeated that she realised a policeman was standing beside her. She stared blankly at the kindly face beneath the domed helmet "Feeling ill, miss?" She shook her head, bewildered. "No. I... I was just thinking." "I should go home if I were you. No point in stavins out m the rain unless you're obliged to." With the confused reactions of someone who has been completely lost to their surroundings, she saw that there was a bloom of moisture on his cape. "I didn't notice it was raining," she said awkwardly. "Set in for the night by the looks of it." He save her a keen glance. "Not stranded, are you, miss?" "Oh no. No, of course not," she assured him hastily He nodded, evidently satisfied. "If you take my advice you 11 have a hot drink as soon as you get in. It doesn't do to stand about in the wet, you know." "Yes . . . yes, I will. Good night, officer." dare managed a smile and hurried away, conscious of his eyes following her. No wonder he had asked if she was all right Only vagrants and lunatics loitered by the river on a night hke this How long had she stood there, half hypnotised by the dark water swirling under the bridge? Ten minutes? Half an hour? The shoulders of her jacket were soaked and her skirt clung damply to her legs I must get a grip on myself, she thought fiercely. It's over. It was all over a week ago. There's no poL in 178 brooding. Forget it, you fool. Forget there ever was a village, called Clint and a man named David. . . . David! The name was like a barb piercing a raw wound. How long@how many dreary months@before the wound healed? Her mouth contracted with pain and she quickened her pace as if to outstrip her thoughts. A couple standing at a bus-stop gazed at her with open curiosity, their attention arrested by the naked anguish on her pale face. Clare walked past them, deaf to their murmured speculations. For a week@ever since the interminable journey b
ack to London@she had lived in a leaden trance of misery, cut off from the world around her by a despair so acute that the future seemed a hopeless void and the effort of facing it almost beyond her. She had found accommodation in a drab Bayswater lodging-house, and during the day she walked for mile after mile along the river-side until physical exhaustion forced her to return to her shabby room. Even then she often lay awake in the dragging small hours, her mind tormented by a hundred memories from which there seemed no escape. The landlady had already rebuked her for coming in late, and she began to run, dreading another encounter with that sharp-faced harridan. Perhaps a note from the airline would be waiting. They had promised to book her passage to Kenya as soon as possible. The prospect of joining Hal was her one faint gleam of hope. Perhaps in Africa, surrounded by people and places that had no relation to the past, she would be able to forget, to start afresh. Many single women lived happy, useful lives. Time hardened, even if it could never wholly heal, the scars of experience, and perhaps one day she would wake up and find that memory had lost its power to torture her, that what now seemed an inescapable agony had become a shadow, a faint regret for all that might have been. What might have been. The saddest words in the world. Her hands clenched so that her nails dug into her palms. Dear God, don't let me think, please don't let me think. Ob, David, my darling, why couldn't you love me? Why did it all go wrong? What was it that made you hate me while I loved you so desperately? At the comer of the road leading to her lodgings she slowed down. A church clock struck eleven and she bit her lip nervously. Mrs. Hardleigh would have locked the front door by now and would be furious at being disturbed. She might even refuse to let her in. Last time dare had been late she had made several nasty remarks about the respectability of her establishment and lodgers who failed to maintain the tone of the house. Bracing herself to meet an outburst of righteous indignation from Mrs. Hardleigh, dare tried the door. As she had feared, it was locked. She was about to lift the heavy brass knocker when a sound from the road made her swing round. For a moment she did not recognise the tall figure who stood there. Then, with a stifled cry, she fainted. When dare regained consciousness, she was lying on a couch in a strange room. Straggling to sit up, she found herself pushed gently back into a mound of soft cushions. "Just lie still for a while," David Lancaster said quietly, "There's nothing to worry about. You passed out and caught your head a nasty crack, but everything's going to be all right now." He sat down on the edge of the couch, and she gazed up wonderingly at the strong dark face which she had thought never to see again. "David, I don't understand. Why are you here?" she asked weakly. 180 He took her hands in his. "Because I had to find you, Clare," he said in a low voice. "But. :. why?" "To ask you to marry me." She closed her eyes. It was a dream. It couldn't possibly be real. He was lost to her for ever. This was just a dream bom of her longing and unhappiness. Her whole body began to tremble uncontrollably, and all the tears she had not been able to shed during the past seven days and nights suddenly welled up and poured down her cheeks. "Oh, my darling, don't cry like that." He gathered her into his arms and held her close, appalled at the violence of her weeping. At last the storm of grief slackened, and she lay, lax and spent, against his shoulder. "Clare, can you ever forgive me?" His voice was husky. "God knows, I don't deserve it after the way I behaved. It took this last week to show me what a blind fool I've been. I nearly went crazy when I realised I might have lost you for ever. Until you went away I never knew it was possible to love a woman so much that life was unbearable without her." Slowly she raised her face to his. "You love me? You really love me?" "More than anything or anyone in the world, and, if you'D let me, I'll spend the rest of my life proving it." "Oh . . .!" With a gasp of joy she buried her face against him. "I can't believe it's true," she said in a muffled voice. "I've longed for you so. I thought I should die of longing. Tell me I'm not dreaming, David; you're really here and this is really happening." ."I'm really here, sweetheart," he said gently. "I've found you and I'll never let you go again." For several minutes she lay still, feeling a glow of ex-quisite happiness radiating through every nerve. 181 "Clare . . . look at me!" He slipped a hand under her chin and raised her face. "I must look a sight!" she protested shakily. '"You look the most beautiful woman in the world," he told her softly. A light tap at the door disturbed them. David frowned. "Damn, that'll be the doctor. I thought we'd better call him in, darling, just in case you've got a spot of concussion. Come in, Mrs. Rogers." An elderly woman put her head round the door. "Doctor Maclean is here, Mr. David." "Right, show him in, will you? Miss Drake seems to be all right now, but it's as well to make sure." Mrs. Rogers retreated and David said, "Just in case you're wondering where you are, pet, this is my brother James's flat. You remember he interviewed you for the post as my secretary." Before he could explain any more the doctor, a brisk old Scotsman, was ushered in. Clare submitted to an examination of her head. She winced as the doctor's exploring fingers touched die bruised place. "Humph, nothing to worry about there," he said reassuringly. "You'll probably have the devil of a headache later on, young lady, but your skull seems to be intact. Takes a lot to break 'em, you know. How did you come by this accident?" "She fainted and banged her head as she fell," David said. "Fainted, eh?" The doctor felt her pulse, eyeing her appraisingly. "When was your last meal, my girl?" "I don't really remember. This morning, I think," Clare stammered. "What did you have?" "Oh, a piece of toast and some tea. I wasn't very hungry." "By the look of it, you've been half starving yourself for several days," he said sternly. 182 dare flushed scarlet and cast an appealing look at David. "She'll be all right now," he said easily. "We'll soon feed her up, doctor. Mrs. Rogers is a first-rate cook." "See that you do. A day or two in bed is what sheneeds," the doctor advised. When he had taken his leave after a gruff but not unkindly homily on the dangers of going without proper meals, David made her lie back on the couch while he went to fetch the light supper which the housekeeper had prepared. "Eat as much as you can, my dear," he urged, setting down the tray on a small table beside the couch. "It's my fault that you're in this state. I deserve to be flogged. God, when I think that I might never have found you... ." "How did you?" she asked, sipping some excellent hot broth. "I scoured half the hotels in London, and then I remembered what you had said about joining your brother and I went to the airline offices. They were very sticky about giving me your address, but I managed to bludgeon it out of them. Your landlady wouldn't let me wait in the house@she seemed highly suspicious of me for some reason@so I hung about the street until you came back." "Heavens, all my things are there. She'll never take me in again now," dare cried in alarm. "I wouldn't dream of letting you go back to such a place. You're staying here. Mrs. Rogers lives in, so it's perfectly respectable. We can fetch your gear in the morning. I'll soon settle the old girl if she wants a row." he said firmly. "I was expecting to get my passage at any moment. Oh, David, if you hadn't come in time. . . ." "Thank God I did. You're shivering. What is it? Are you cold? I'll fetch a blanket." 183 "No, it's just reaction, I think," she said quickly. "You see, I gave up hope the morning we said good-bye. It was .like leaving part of myself behind. Why did you let me go? Why didn't you say you loved me then?" He sighed. "I don't know, dare. Pride, I suppose. It doesn't make sense now." There was a moment's silence while he stared thoughtfully into space, his face sombre. For the first time she noticed how drawn and haggard he looked."There are many things I have to explain to you," he said at last. "Most of them can wait, but there's one part I'd like to tell you now if you're not too worn out.' She shook her head, guessing what was to come. "A long time ago I was engaged to a girl called Caroline Lyall," he said. "It was actually nothing more than a boyish infatuation, but I didn't know at the time . . . She was very lovely, and I was dazzled by her looks and never stopped to consider what she was like inside. That was while I was still in the Navy. We were to be married on my next leave. Instead, I wound up in hospital with my back in plaster."He paused and, sensing-his distate for revi
ving past history, dare reached out and took his hand. "On what should have been our wedding-day," David continued, "I received a letter to say it had all been a mistake. She was very sorry, but she was going to marry someone else. I found out later he was a rich warprofiteer, old enough to be her father." Although his tone was matter of fact as though the incident had long since lost its sting, dare felt a wave of fierce anger at the girl who had behaved so heartlessly. "I suppose I took it badly because I was ill," he went on. "Had I been at sea there would have been no time for brooding. But, lying in hospital for eight weeks, I had nothing to do but think. By the time I was on my feet I'd sworn never to let another woman make a fool of me again. You see, Caroline was the first woman I'd ever really known, and I took jt for granted that they were all tarred with the same brush. Can you possibly understand that?" For answer she lifted his hand and cradled it against her cheek. In the light of her own recent despair it was easy to visualise the bitter cynicism which must have engulfed him at being so callously jilted at the very time when he needed comfort. No wonder he had come to regard all women as selfish and avaricious. "As soon as I saw you I knew you were everything a man could want." His fingers tightened .round hers. "I forced myself to be brusque and unfriendiy@and all the time I was falling in love with you. That night we found Josh in the quarry I almost blurted out the truth. Then I remembered Caroline and lost my nerve. If you were less attractive it might have been easier, but your looks@ your hair and your eyes and your lovely figure@were a constant reminder of the mistake I'd made before. When I thought you were falling for Paul, I was half crazy with jealousy. He had everything to offer a woman@@" "Not for me, David," she cut in swiftly. "All I wanted was you. That's why I went out with him. I thought that if you did care for me, jealousy would break down your pride. I couldn't know that it was the very way to make things worse." "Can you really forgive me for thinking you were just another gold-digger?" he asked humbly. . "There isn't anything to forgive. Look at all the horrible things I said to you. Oh, what does it matter now? The miracle is that it has a happy ending." "A happy beginning," he corrected. "With luck the happy ending will be about fifty years ahead." "A few hours ago I was resigning myself to being a spinster," she said rather tremulously. "Heaven forbid! In fact, as soon as I can get a licence you'll be a bride. You don't want an elaborate wedding, do you?" She shook her head, laughing. "Just a wedding, David." "Finish up those sandwiches. It's after midnight; time you were tucked up," he told her. "Where is your brother?" dare asked, obediently eating the last of the wafer-thin chicken sandwiches. "Out at some dignified legal dinner," David said. "Are you sure he won't mind my staying here?" "Of course not. You'll be his sister-in-law in a few days. Finished? I'll call Mrs. Rogers to give you a hand." "I'm not an invalid," she protested. "Don't argue," he said firmly. "From now on I'm not taking any risks with you, my sweet." "It sounds so odd to hear you calling me that," she said dreamily. "I used to wonder what it would be like, but somehow I could never imagine you calling anyone 'darling'. You were always so dreadfully stern." "Only on the surface. There were times when I could hardly keep myself from flinging that wretched typewriter out of the window and making violent love to you." "Really? I was just wondering if you were ever going to kiss me," she said impishly. "Doctor Maclean said it would be best if you led a quiet life for the next day or two. No excitement or emotional disturbances." His expression was serious, but there was a glint of mocking laughter in his eyes. "Oh." Her face fell. "dare, you little idiot!" He burst out laughing. "Do you think I could possibly last out for two days without kissing you?" He bent towards her and with a sigh of contentment she yielded to his strong arms. The villa stood on a Cliff above a private beach. The sound of the sea whispered through the room like peaceful music. All day the sun shone with Mediterranean brilliance, and by night the garden was drenched in moonlight. By the end of the first week dare knew that from now on the word "paradise" would evoke a secret vision of this secluded stretch of the Italian Riviera. Standing on the balcony, watching the sunset east its fiery reflection on the calm sea, she felt sure, that, whatever the future might bring, the memory of her present happiness could never be spoiled. "Clare ... where are my cuff-links?" Smiling, she turned back into the bedroom. David was bending over the dressing-table, searching in her cosmetics tray. "I believe you've hidden them," he accused her. "I haven't been able to find anything since we've been married." "Regretting your rashness?" "Not entirely." He caught hold of the sash of her negligee and pulled her towards him. "How about you? Any regrets?" She made a doubtful face. "It's too early to say. Ask me again in six months. Heavens, look at the time. I must dress or we shall be late." She twitched the sash out of his hand and darted away before he could catch her. "Your cuff-links are in that china box on the tallboy." "You aren't going to do your hair in that bun thing, are you?" he asked as she picked up her comb. "Yes, I was. Why?" "I like it better the way it is now." He came up behind her and buried his hands in the thick silky masses of her hair. "You look like a gipsy girl with it loose. The other way is too prim." "I thought it woud be more suitable for a dinner party. Signora Rivera is terribly elegant." 187 "She isn't half as lovely as you are." He bent and kissed the smooth curve of her shoulder. "Damn the dinner party! I'd much rather stay here." dare laughed. "What an anti-social creature you are. I was hoping marriage would cure you." Her face softened. "We needn't stay too late, darling, and the Riveras are an awfully nice couple." "I know they are." His lips strayed to her cheek. "I just don't want to spend my honeymoon fostering Anglo-Italian relations." "But you@@" Her words were clipped short as his mouth found hers. "That'll teach you to argue with your lord and master," he teased when, some. minutes later, 'she opened her eyes and gazed rapturously at him. "Now, get on with your dressing, woman, or we really will be late." dare reached dreamily for her powder-puff. When David kissed her like that it gave her the curious sensation that her bones were melting. He was an ardent and demanding lover, and it amazed her that she should ever have thought him stiff and unemotional. Sometimes she felt that she had married a stranger, for as the long golden days passed a new David gradually revealed himself. She had loved him when he was at his most curt and off-hand, but now she discovered that her husband had an unexpected capacity for nonsense, a boyish hilarity which before he had kept strictly controlled. With other people he was still quiet and self-contained, but with her he was all tenderness and warmth. She had accepted that there would always be a part of himself which he would withhold from her, but instead she found herself m possession of his whole heart. "Why that solemn expression?" he asked, catching her eyes on him. dare shrugged off her negligee and slipped her dress over her head before replying. 4 00 loo "I was just thinking how very differently things might have turned out," she said quietly. He watched her put the finishing touches to her appearance."Come on to the balcony for a moment," he said. "We've got a few minutes to spare." Side by side they leant against the balustrade and watched the last rosy wisps of cloud fade into the darkening sky. "Do you remember how we once talked about finding a retreat from the world?" David asked slowly. "You mean 'the rapture on the lonely shore'?" she murmured, remembering the evening when they had sat on the beach at dint and for the first time he had relaxed his guard. "You also talked about 'confusing the practical issues of marriage with a lot of emotional nonsense'," she reminded him. A wry smile touched his mouth. "You don't have to remind me what a crass idiot I was, sweetheart." "Have you given up the idea. of a desert island, then?" He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "I realise now that a desert island isn't the solution. You've given me what I was searching for." She laid her head against his shoulder. "Life is rather like a lonely shore," she said. "But I think Byron was wrong. The rapture is when you find someone to share it and you know you'll never be lonely again." THE END