Gently with Love Read Free Page A

know such interesting people. He brings them down with him at the weekend.’
    I received my cup without enthusiasm: there was a lot more that I would have liked to ask about Colin. But Verna was determined to have done with him and to put the conversation on a general footing.
    ‘Last week, for example – what was his name? An attaché from the Brazilian Embassy. Then there was the couple who sailed here from Australia, and a very charming American professor. We get all sorts. You mustn’t think we’re out of the swim here at Blockford.’
    Alex smiled indulgently. ‘They come here mostly to meet Verna. My glamorous mother. The word goes round. Everyone wants to come down to meet her.’
    ‘Oh nonsense, Alex! Don’t tease.’
    ‘But it’s the truth,’ Alex laughed. ‘Ask Earle. Señor Alfonso came here after seeing your photograph on my desk.’
    ‘You’re making it up.’
    ‘Not a bit. He saw your photograph and fell.’
    ‘When he was here he was simply polite.’
    ‘Ah, but that’s how Latin lovers begin.’
    Verna’s eyes were bright. ‘I don’t believe a word of it! He simply came for a quiet weekend. And don’t annoy me with your foolishness in front of George – he doesn’t know you, he might believe it.’ But she didn’t look offended. ‘In any case, I prefer your people. That’s how we first got to know Earle. There are delightful people at the BBC.’
    ‘Thank you, Verna,’ Earle said.
    ‘We do our best for the image,’ Alex said archly.
    ‘We surely do,’ Earle chorused. ‘Even us colonials out of the hills.’
    Verna turned to me. ‘They have one thing in common, the people whom Alex invites down. They have talent. They are all people whom it is stimulating to be with. You feel they have an urge for life. It’s the same whatever they may be doing – acting, writing scripts, or organizing programmes, like Alex. I can’t remember him inviting anyone whom I wasn’t delighted to entertain.’
    ‘Except perhaps just one,’ Anne said softly.
    Verna gave her a sharp look. ‘Not one. I don’t know who you are thinking of, but they have all been charming when they were here.’
    ‘She’s thinking of me,’ Earle said smilingly. ‘I don’t have talent. I’m just the voice of Canada.’
    ‘She’s thinking of Nigel Fortuny,’ Alex said quickly. ‘And if you don’t mind we’ll change the subject.’
    Verna bit her lip. There was nothing playful in Alex’s expression now. The young man’s mouth was small and his dark eyes were averted. Anne, too, was looking vexed, and Earle’s ready smile had faded. Someone else had put their foot in it, and this time nobody ventured an explanation.
    Verna hastened to smooth it over. ‘I know,’ she exclaimed. ‘Let’s have some music! Earle does have talent – he plays the piano. And Alex sings very well, in a camp-fire way.’

CHAPTER SIX
    E ARLE PLAYED AT the Eavestaff miniature and Alex sang ‘Spanish Ladies’ and The ‘Foggy, Foggy Dew’. They had clearly performed together before and they gave an energetic rendition. Then Earle played ‘Beer-Barrel Polka’ in the clowning style of Chico Marx, and Verna requested ‘Green Grow the Rushes’ and other songs in which we could join. Finally, to my surprise, Earle shed his casual style and gave us Grieg’s
Piano Concerto
– performed a little flashily, perhaps, but as far as I could tell without a wrong note. We sat listening in complete stillness as that rhapsodic music trilled from his fingers. Alex sat by the piano, watching Earle’s hands, Verna was gazing out of the window. Anne’s eyes were intent on Earle’s face, which was set in a frown of concentration: there was a yearning fondness in her expression that had almost the intensity of suffering. I had no doubt of her feeling for him. Though she treated him coolly she was very much in love. And about Earle’s sincerity I had no doubt either: they seemed a couple destined for each other. And yet there was