The Treacherous Heart Read online

  She left him there and slipped into Mr Cass’s office. She couldn’t let poor Joe be eaten alive by Mr Whetlore. And in any case, Mr Cass knew practically every inch of this part of Dorset, having done the conveyancing on nearly every part that had ever changed hands.

  Anne explained to her boss what was wanted, and Mr Cass agreed to see Joe.

  ‘If it’s a friend of yours, Anne, I think it’s the least I can do,’ he said, unbending for the first time since she had joined the company. She thanked him, and went back to the outer office.

  ‘If you’d like to come through, Joe, Mr Cass will see you now.’

  Joe jumped up nervously, and she showed him in. If he had been a cap-wearer, he would have been twisting it in his hands. Anne shut the door after him, and went smiling back to her desk.

  She had expected their interview to last only a few moments, but as the time passed and Joe didn’t come out, Anne got on with her work and had quite forgotten he was in there by the time the inner door opened again.

  ‘Well, goodbye, and thanks very much,’ Joe was saying, and he came out and shut the door.

  ‘Everything O.K.?’ Anne asked him.

  ‘Oh, yes, thanks. He’s very nice isn’t he?’

  ‘Mr Cass? Yes, I think so. Did he tell you what you wanted to know?’

  ‘He thinks the land belongs to a trust set up for a minor, but he’s going to find out for sure and let me know. He says if that’s the case, the land could be sold when the minor comes of age, which would probably be in a few years’ time. That would suit me just fine.’

  ‘So it would,’ Anne said. ‘Well, I’m very pleased for you.’

  She looked up at him patiently. He was standing on the other side of her desk and she was waiting for him to take his departure before she went on with her work, but he didn’t seem in any hurry to go. She wondered suddenly if he thought he had to pay her for the interview, and to help him out, she said,

  ‘Mr Cass will send you his bill when he’s finished doing what you asked. I don’t expect it will be too much.’ She would have the handling of the correspondence, of course, so she could keep an eye on that aspect of things.

  ‘Yes, I see,’ Joe said. There was another silence, at the end of which both of them spoke at once.

  ‘Do you—’

  ‘I hope—’

  ‘Go on,’ Joe said.

  ‘I was just going to say I hope everything goes all right for you. What were you going to say?’

  ‘Do you like working here,’ Joe said after a measurable pause, and Anne had the feeling that was not what he’d meant to say at all.

  ‘Oh yes, I find it very interesting. It has its dull moments, like any job, of course, but that can’t be helped. And it’s nice working right in town like this.’

  ‘I suppose you go out a lot, in the evenings, I mean?’ Joe said next.

  ‘Not a lot,’ Anne said. ‘My mother’s not well, and I tend to stay home to keep her company.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said, and seemed disappointed. Anne now had an inkling of what he was aiming at, and she waited, amused, to see how long he took to get there.

  ‘But you go out at the weekends? I suppose you have lots of – friends.’

  ‘I do go out, when I’ve someone to go with. I seem to have lost touch with most of my friends from the old days, so I don’t seem to get asked very much.’

  ‘I wondered,’ Joe began, looking in any direction but at her.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I wondered if … if you would think of … perhaps … if I could take you out somewhere?’ He got it out at last. His face was red under the tan, but Anne had no inclination to laugh at him. He was not ridiculous, only rather endearing.

  ‘Yes, I think I’d like that, Joe. When had you in mind?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know if it’s possible for you, but I was thinking of maybe Thursday, after the market. I’m in town anyway, you see, and I could get a wash and change at the hotel and then pick you up by about seven. It isn’t easy to get away other days, not until quite late.’

  ‘Well, Thursday would be fine by me. You’ll come and pick me up, you say?’

  ‘Yes, you still live in the same place, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, by the station. All right, Thursday at about seven, then?’

  ‘I won’t be late,’ he promised. He smiled at her now, and seemed about to say something else, but closed his mouth again and simply nodded, smiled, and left.

  She broke the good news to her father when she got home that night.

  ‘Someone’s coming to pick me up and take me out on Thursday, Dad,’ she said as she sat down to her tea.

  ‘A young man?’ he asked eagerly.

  ‘Is it someone we know, dear?’ her mother asked.

  ‘I don’t know if you know him. He was at the same school as me, but he’s older – we weren’t in the same class.’

  ‘Well, what’s he called?’ Dad asked.

  ‘Joe Halderthay.’

  ‘I don’t know the name.’

  ‘He was very good at sports, won all the cups on sports day,’ Anne said.

  ‘Oh, that big red-headed boy?’ her mother said. ‘I remember him, though I didn’t know his name.’

  ‘And what does he do for a living?’ Dad asked sternly. Anne began to laugh.

  ‘Now, Dad, you mustn’t put him through the Spanish Inquisition when he comes on Thursday. He’s very shy – and in any case, I’m not thinking of marrying him. I’m only going to go out with him for an evening.’

  ‘You never know what may come of it,’ her father warned her. ‘Anyway, I have to know if he’s a suitable person for my girl to go out with.’

  ‘I’m sure he’s very suitable, Dad. He’s clean and well-mannered and he’s a stockman on Haldane’s farm. I’m sure if you rang them up they’d give him a reference.’

  Her father stared for a moment, and then reached over and pinched her cheek.

  ‘None of your sauce, Miss Anne. All right, so I fuss a bit, but you’re my only daughter, and you’ll have one one day and then you’ll know how I feel.’

  Anne smiled back at him. ‘I know how you feel Dad. And Joe Halderthay is respectable enough to suit even you.’

  At seven o’clock precisely a knock on the door heralded Joe’s arrival, and Dad hurried to the door to get a look at him before Anne could intervene. By the time Anne reached them, they were seated in the sitting room, and Joe was telling Dad about his job at Haldane’s. As Anne came in he jumped to his feet, and Anne was pleased with his good manners, not only for herself but for the impression it would have on Dad.

  ‘Hello, Joe. You’re punctual,’ she said. Joe had made good use of the hotel washroom. He was shaved so close that his face was red even through his tan, and he fairly gleamed with cleanliness. Anne could smell the soap across the room. He had on a clean white shirt and a tie under a check jacket which, though shapeless, was evidently not his working jacket, and wore well-pressed grey flannel trousers. When she reflected that he must have been carrying those trousers round with him all day, she realised that some maid at the hotel must have taken pity on him and ironed them for him.

  He had taken so much trouble over his appearance that Anne was touched, and as she came forward, he fumbled in his pocket and brought out a small box of chocolates, which he handed to her.

  ‘I got these for you,’ he said hesitantly. She took the box, hardly knowing what to say. The gesture was so old-fashioned, but so thoughtful, that it made her want to cry. She hadn’t the least idea of what she was supposed to do with the chocolates – open them and hand them round? – and probably neither had Joe, but he knew that when you went to pick up a girl on your first date you took her a present, so that’s what he had done.

  Anne’s mouth opened and shut again, and she looked helplessly at her father. He nodded and smiled, as if to say, yes, that’s quite correct. That’s what should be done. He and Joe would get on together, Anne thought.

  ‘Thank you, Jo
e,’ she said. ‘It’s very kind of you. I – I’ll just go and get my coat. I won’t keep you waiting.’

  ‘Oh, no hurry, please,’ Joe said, and she made her escape. When she returned with her coat, he was on his feet again in an instant to help her into it, and she had enough presence of mind to accept his help gracefully.

  ‘We’ll be off, then, Dad. I have my key, so you don’t need to wait up if I’m late.’

  ‘I’ll bring her back in good time, Mr Symons,’ Joe said, and Dad smiled complaisantly.

  ‘I know you will, Joe. Have a good time, both of you.’

  Outside, Joe fell in beside her and asked.

  ‘Where would you like to go?’

  Anne had expected him to have decided, but on reflection realised that it would be for her to be indulged, not him. She thought of the chocolates.

  ‘What about the cinema? Or doesn’t that appeal to you?’

  ‘That’s all right by me. Do you know what’s on?’

  ‘No, but we could find out,’ Anne said. Joe nodded, and became masterful.

  ‘We’ll drive in and look at both of them, and then you can choose. The car’s just along here.’

  She understood how it was to be. She would decide what they would do, and he would arrange all the details. Well, it was a pleasant way to divide the duties. They turned the corner of the road, and Anne saw the vehicle with which she was to form an intimate acquaintance. Car was a polite term for it. It was in fact a very old van, with windows of perspex set into the sides at the back. The back door was secured with string. One of the wing mirrors was missing, and where you could see through the mud, the paint was scratched and the rust showed through.

  Inside there were bucket seats at the front, and the back was filled with sacks and bales of wire and tools and newspapers and bottles of pig-drench and worming powders and a tarpaulin and some bits of wood and various other items of farm rubble. Anne was only surprised there were no pigs in there, for she could certainly smell them.

  ‘I’m sorry the van’s in a bit of a state, but it’s the farm van, you see,’ Joe said.

  ‘I see,’ Anne said dourly.

  ‘But I brought a clean blanket to put over your seat so as to keep your clothes clean,’ Joe said, suiting his actions to his words. He had thought of everything, Anne thought, and could only sit herself graciously on the freshly-laundered blanket that was spread for her, and allow herself to be driven away.

  They decided to see the film at the Roxy, which was the first cinema they went to. Joe bought the best seats, and they ate her chocolates during the film, and ice-cream during the interval. It was a good film, and Anne enjoyed it, but was painfully aware of Joe beside her all the time. She rather expected her hand to be taken, but he did not make any move towards touching her right through the film, and sitting there expecting it and not having it happen was nerve-racking.

  When the film was over it was still quite early, and Joe asked her if she’d like to go somewhere else.

  ‘For a drink, perhaps?’ he asked. ‘Or if you prefer coffee, there a café along the road here.’

  ‘Which would you prefer, Joe?’ Anne asked, but she wasn’t going to get away with that.

  ‘It’s for you to choose,’ he said firmly, and in the end she said she was rather hungry, so they went to a coffee bar and had a hamburger. There were a lot of young people there, and among them Wendy Stokes with her boyfriend of the moment. Wendy spotted Anne and Joe as they came in, and brought her friend over to join them, so another old acquaintance was revived that day, and it was from that meeting that their regular Thursday coffee-morning arose.

  In due course Joe decided that it was late enough and told Anne that he was taking her home. He did it very politely, as he did everything, but Anne had the feeling that had she argued with him she would have come off worst. They chatted as they drove back to Winton Parva, but when he pulled up the car at her home he fell suddenly silent. In the quiet and darkness, Anne felt the hair rising with anticipation on the back of her neck, and looking sideways at Joe’s profile in the faint starlight, she got the impression he was having an internal battle with himself.

  At last he turned to her, and said in a husky voice.

  ‘Anne, it’s very good of you to come out with me.’

  ‘Not good at all,’ she protested. ‘I’ve enjoyed myself.’

  ‘Have you? I’m so glad. I thought you might be bored. I’m not much of a conversationalist. Well, I’ve always thought I was a bit dull – but – well, if you haven’t been too bored, I mean, if you could possibly—’

  ‘Out with it, Joe,’ Anne teased him gently. ‘If I could what?’

  ‘Would you come out with me again?’ he asked, and his voice held little hope.

  ‘I’d love to,’ she said, putting all her enthusiasm into her voice. His eyes met her, surprised and happy. She wondered why she had said it. She had enjoyed herself, but she thought another few evenings like that would leave her bored, and then how would she explain to him? How could she ever break off, once she had started?

  There was no moon that night, and the nearest lamp-post was a hundred yards away. The faint starlight was all they had to see by, but it lit the edges of Joe’s face, and picked out the crest of hair at the front where the sun had bleached his auburn to blonde. It was cool, and she could feel the warmth of him close by. His lips looked firm and cool, and she wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. She felt her heart thumping as she waited, and saw again the struggle in his face.

  But he didn’t. It was their first ‘date’, and he knew that you didn’t kiss a girl the first time out. They shook hands to say goodbye, having made an arrangement to meet on Saturday night, and he drove away. Anne had to wait for some time before he first got round to kissing her and she sometimes thought, in the years that followed, that if he had kissed her that first evening by starlight, she might have fallen in love with him. It might all have been quite different.

  CHAPTER THREE

  On Thursdays Anne’s working day finished at two o’clock. By five past two she had covered her typewriter, said goodbye to her bosses, and was out in the street and heading for the market. The uncertain weather of the morning had given way to a sunny afternoon and added to the holiday feeling that never failed her on market day. All the streets round and near the market were lined with parked cars, and from the market place itself came a mixture of sounds and smells that Anne would have recognised anywhere.

  On this particular Thursday there was in addition another set of smells and sounds, belonging to the fairground which had been set up on the field next to the market. This field was usually used for parking on Thursdays, and its annexation had caused even more parking problems in the town. Every inch of roadside was being pressed into use, and the two old men who directed the traffic in the market grounds were almost weeping with frustration as they tried to wave cars away from the part of the parking-field which had been reserved for lorries and cattle-trucks.

  It will all sort itself out by tomorrow, Anne thought. They had this problem every year, any time anything unusual happened, like summer arriving. It was a problem to be expected in a small town not designed for the age of the internal combustion engine. Mind you, she added to herself, it couldn’t have been much fun negotiating those narrow streets even in a horse and cart. It was difficult to imagine any kind of movement for which the town could have been designed. The answer must be that it wasn’t designed at all, but just happened …

  Anne made her way first of all to the cattle market. She was to meet Joe for a snack lunch, but by experience she knew that he would still be embroiled with his Large White weaners, and wouldn’t be able to spare her any attention for the moment. The cattle market was her favourite section, and she went first of all to the long shed where the calves were tethered. There was the usual clutch of holidaymakers petting the calves and oohing and aahing over them. The stockmen stood around watching them cynically. It was generally the weakly und
ersized calves that interested the holidaymakers, and it had been known for a farmer to sell one of these calves at a large profit to some softhearted tripper with more money than sense.

  The calves on the whole took their fate calmly, many of them lying folded up on the scanty straw and chewing the cud in a bored way. Not so the young bullocks, who milled around in their pens and bellowed like a colossal, collective belly-ache. There would be the occasional moment of calm, and then another would let out a yell and start them all off again. They threw each other into a panic, and charged round with their heads up, banging into each other with their blunted horns.

  Anne passed the pens of dairy cows, and stopped when she came to a high-fenced pen in which stood a large and beautiful bull. He was a white-faced Hereford with curly ginger hair and he flicked his hairy ears in an endearing kind of way and rolled a sad eye at Anne as she paused. A young boy she knew by sight was sitting on the top rail of the pen and slapping his leg with a whittled stick.

  ‘Hullo,’ Anne said.

  ‘’lo,’ he replied. He looked in the opposite direction, elaborately casual.

  ‘He’s a nice-looking fellow,’ she said politely, referring to the bull. ‘Why are they selling him?’

  ‘Got another,’ the boy said. The bull sighed heavily and pushed his wet pink nose against the railings in Anne’s direction. She pushed a hand through and scratched behind his horns, and he sighed again, more happily.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with him, is there?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ said the boy fiercely, looking at her for a moment, and then away again, scarlet-faced. ‘Just got another, that’s all. Bred two ’n’ chose the best.’ The bull turned his head a little to let Anne get at the sensitive places more easily. ‘I like this’n best,’ the boy volunteered. ‘T’other’n’s bad-tempered.’

  ‘Well, this old boy is certainly friendly,’ Anne said, and the boy almost smiled with pleasure at hearing his favourite praised. He suddenly became communicative.

  ‘I seen you out ’th Joe – from up Haldane’s. Are you ’n him going to get married?’