There were sun-rooms and palm trees, dismal against the grey sky, and municipal flower-beds planted with straight rows of daffodils.
High above the sea, the road levelled out. Eustace changed into top gear and said, "When are you going back to London?"
"I don't know. In about a week."
"Do you want to come out to Penfolda again?"
This was the second time that day that he had offered her what she craved most. She wondered if he were psychic.
"Yes, I'd love to."
"My mother was very taken with you. Not often she sees a new face. It would be nice for her if you'd come and have a cup of tea with her."
"I'd like to come."
"How would you get out to Lanyon?" asked Eustace, his eyes on the road ahead.
"I could borrow Alice's car. I'm sure if I asked her she'd let me borrow it. I'd be very careful."
"Can you drive?"
"Of course. Otherwise I wouldn't borrow the car." She smiled at him. Not because it was meant to be a joke, but because all at once she felt so good.
"Well, I’ll tell you," said Eustace in his deliberate way. "I’ll have a word with my mother, find out which day suits her best, give you a ring on the telephone. How would that be?"
She imagined waiting for the call, having it come, hearing his voice over the wire. She almost hugged herself with pleasure.
"It would be all right."
"What's the number?"
"Porthkerris three two five."
"I'll remember that."
They had reached home. He turned into the white gates of Wheal House and roared up the drive between the hedges of escallonia.
"There you are!" He stopped with a great jerk of brakes and a splattering of gravel. "Home safely, just in time for tea."
"Thank you so much."
He leaned on the wheel, smiling at her. "That's all right."
"I mean, for everything. The ice-cream and everything."
"You're welcome." He reached across and opened the door for her. Virginia jumped down on to the gravel, and as she did so, the front door opened and Mrs. Parsons emerged, wearing a little suit of raspberry-red wool, and a white silk shirt, tied like a stock at the neck.
"Virginia!"
Virginia swung around. Her mother came across the gravel towards them, immaculate as always, but her hair, short and dark, blew casually in the wind and had obviously not been attended to that afternoon.
"Mother!"
"Where have you been?" The smile was friendly and interested.
"I thought you were at the hairdresser."
"The girl who usually does me is in bed with a cold. They offered me another girl of course, but, as she's the one who usually spends her days sweeping hair off the floor, I declined with thanks." Still smiling, she looked beyond Virginia to where Eustace waited. "And who is your friend?"
"Oh. It's Eustace Philips ..."
But now Eustace had decided to get out of the car. He jumped down on to the gravel and came around the front of the Land-Rover to be introduced. And, hating herself, Virginia saw him through her mother's eyes; the wide powerful shoulders beneath the sailor's sweater, the sun-burned face, the strong, calloused hands.
Mrs. Parsons came forward graciously. "How do you do."
"Hallo," said Eustace, meeting her eye with an unblinking blue gaze. Her hand was half-way out to shake his, but Eustace either didn't see this or chose to ignore it. Mrs. Parsons's hand dropped back to her side. Her manner became, subtly, a fraction more cool.
"Where did Virginia meet you?" The question was harmless, even playful.
Eustace leaned against the Land-Rover and crossed his arms. "I live out at Lanyon; farm Penfolda . . ."
"Oh, of course, the barbecue. Yes, I heard all about it. And how nice that you met up again today."
"By chance," said Eustace, firmly.
"But that makes it even nicer!" She smiled. "We're just going to have tea, Mr. Philips. Won't you join us?"
Eustace shook his head. His eyes never left her face. "I've got seventy cows waiting to be milked. I'd better be getting back ..."
"Oh, of course. I wouldn't want to keep you from your work." Her tone was that of the lady
High above the sea, the road levelled out. Eustace changed into top gear and said, "When are you going back to London?"
"I don't know. In about a week."
"Do you want to come out to Penfolda again?"
This was the second time that day that he had offered her what she craved most. She wondered if he were psychic.
"Yes, I'd love to."
"My mother was very taken with you. Not often she sees a new face. It would be nice for her if you'd come and have a cup of tea with her."
"I'd like to come."
"How would you get out to Lanyon?" asked Eustace, his eyes on the road ahead.
"I could borrow Alice's car. I'm sure if I asked her she'd let me borrow it. I'd be very careful."
"Can you drive?"
"Of course. Otherwise I wouldn't borrow the car." She smiled at him. Not because it was meant to be a joke, but because all at once she felt so good.
"Well, I’ll tell you," said Eustace in his deliberate way. "I’ll have a word with my mother, find out which day suits her best, give you a ring on the telephone. How would that be?"
She imagined waiting for the call, having it come, hearing his voice over the wire. She almost hugged herself with pleasure.
"It would be all right."
"What's the number?"
"Porthkerris three two five."
"I'll remember that."
They had reached home. He turned into the white gates of Wheal House and roared up the drive between the hedges of escallonia.
"There you are!" He stopped with a great jerk of brakes and a splattering of gravel. "Home safely, just in time for tea."
"Thank you so much."
He leaned on the wheel, smiling at her. "That's all right."
"I mean, for everything. The ice-cream and everything."
"You're welcome." He reached across and opened the door for her. Virginia jumped down on to the gravel, and as she did so, the front door opened and Mrs. Parsons emerged, wearing a little suit of raspberry-red wool, and a white silk shirt, tied like a stock at the neck.
"Virginia!"
Virginia swung around. Her mother came across the gravel towards them, immaculate as always, but her hair, short and dark, blew casually in the wind and had obviously not been attended to that afternoon.
"Mother!"
"Where have you been?" The smile was friendly and interested.
"I thought you were at the hairdresser."
"The girl who usually does me is in bed with a cold. They offered me another girl of course, but, as she's the one who usually spends her days sweeping hair off the floor, I declined with thanks." Still smiling, she looked beyond Virginia to where Eustace waited. "And who is your friend?"
"Oh. It's Eustace Philips ..."
But now Eustace had decided to get out of the car. He jumped down on to the gravel and came around the front of the Land-Rover to be introduced. And, hating herself, Virginia saw him through her mother's eyes; the wide powerful shoulders beneath the sailor's sweater, the sun-burned face, the strong, calloused hands.
Mrs. Parsons came forward graciously. "How do you do."
"Hallo," said Eustace, meeting her eye with an unblinking blue gaze. Her hand was half-way out to shake his, but Eustace either didn't see this or chose to ignore it. Mrs. Parsons's hand dropped back to her side. Her manner became, subtly, a fraction more cool.
"Where did Virginia meet you?" The question was harmless, even playful.
Eustace leaned against the Land-Rover and crossed his arms. "I live out at Lanyon; farm Penfolda . . ."
"Oh, of course, the barbecue. Yes, I heard all about it. And how nice that you met up again today."
"By chance," said Eustace, firmly.
"But that makes it even nicer!" She smiled. "We're just going to have tea, Mr. Philips. Won't you join us?"
Eustace shook his head. His eyes never left her face. "I've got seventy cows waiting to be milked. I'd better be getting back ..."
"Oh, of course. I wouldn't want to keep you from your work." Her tone was that of the lady
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