The Harlequin Tea Set and Other Stories

Those insidious gentle slopes were dangerous. Clare had lost a dog there once. The animal had gone racing over the smooth grass, gaining momentum, had been unable to stop and had gone over the edge of the cliff to be dashed to pieces on the sharp rocks below.

The afternoon was clear and beautiful. From far below there came the ripple of the sea, a soothing murmur. Clare sat down on the short green turf and stared out over the blue water. She must face this thing clearly. What did she mean to do?

She thought of Vivien with a kind of disgust. How the girl had crumpled up, how abjectly she had surrendered! Clare felt a rising contempt. She had no pluck - no grit.

Nevertheless, much as she disliked Vivien, Clare decided that she would continue to spare her for the present. When she got home she wrote a note to her, saying that although she could make no definite promise for the future, she had decided to keep silence for the present.

Life went on much the same in Daymer's End. It was noticed locally that Lady Lee was looking far from well. On the other hand, Clare Halliwell bloomed. Her eyes were brighter, she carried her head higher, and there was a new confidence and assurance in her manner.

She and Lady Lee often met, and it was noticed on these occasions that the younger woman watched the older with a flattering attention to her slightest word.

Sometimes Miss Halliwell would make remarks that seemed a little ambiguous - not entirely relevant to the matter at hand. She would suddenly say that she had changed her mind about many things lately - that it was curious how a little thing might alter entirely one's point of view. One was apt to give way too much to pity - and that was really quite wrong.

When she said things of that kind she usually looked at Lady Lee in a peculiar way, and the latter would suddenly grow quite white, and look almost terrified.

But as the year drew on, these little subtleties became less apparent. Clare continued to make the same remarks, but Lady Lee seemed less affected by them. She began to recover her looks and spirits. Her old gay manner returned.

One morning, when she was taking her dog for a walk, Clare met Gerald in a lane. The latter's spaniel fraternized with Rover, while his master talked to Clare.

"Heard our news?" he said buoyantly. "I expect Vivien's told you."

"What sort of news? Vivien hasn't mentioned anything in particular."

"We're going abroad - for a year - perhaps longer. Vivien's fed up with this place. She never has cared for it, you know." He sighed; for a moment or two he looked downcast. Gerald Lee was very proud of his home. "Anyway, I've promised her a change. I've taken a villa near Algiers. A wonderful place, by all accounts." He laughed a little self-consciously. "Quite a second honeymoon, eh?"

For a minute or two Clare could not speak. Something seemed to be rising up in her throat and suffocating her. She could see the white walls of the villa, the orange trees, smell the soft perfumed breath of the South. A second honeymoon!

They were going to escape. Vivien no longer believed in her threats. She was going away, carefree, gay, happy.

Clare heard her own voice, a little hoarse in timbre, saying the appropriate things. How lovely! She envied them!

Mercifully at that moment Rover and the spaniel decided to disagree. In the scuffle that ensued, further conversation was out of the question.

That afternoon Clare sat down and wrote a note to Vivien. She asked her to meet her on the Edge the following day, as she had something very important to say to her.

The next morning dawned bright and cloudless. Clare walked up the steep path of the Edge with a lightened heart. What a perfect day! She was glad that she had decided to say what had to be said out in the open, under the blue sky, instead of in her stuffy little sitting room. She was sorry for Vivien, very sorry indeed, but the thing had got to be done.

She saw a yellow dot, like some yellow flower higher up by the side of the path. As she came nearer, it resolved itself into the figure of Vivien, dressed in a yellow knitted frock, sitting on the short turf, her hands clasped round her knees.

"Good morning," said Clare. "Isn't it a perfect morning?"

"Is it?" said Vivien. "I haven't noticed. What was it you wanted to say to me?"

Clare dropped down on the grass beside her.

"I'm quite out of breath," she said apologetically. "It's a steep pull up here."

"Damn you!" cried Vivien shrilly. "Why can't you say it, you smooth-faced devil, instead of torturing me?"

Clare looked shocked, and Vivien hastily recanted.

"I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, Clare. I am indeed. Only - my nerves are all to pieces, and your sitting here and talking about the weather - well, it got me all rattled."

"You'll have a nervous breakdown if you're not careful," said Clare coldly.

Vivien gave a short laugh.

"Go over the edge? No - I'm not that kind. I'll never be a loony. Now tell me - what's all this about?"