The Ugly Sister by Winston Graham Page B

like a blue plate split once in a while by seine boats leaving or returning. (Pilchards were scarce this year.) Water in the Roads was never wholly still, there being too much traffic plying up and down; but the shallow trembling of its blue depths was broken only by the greater ripples of the shipping. As lack of wind reduced all movement to a crawl, half the town of Falmouth and its farther bank were obscured by the masses of sails raised to catch the slightest breeze.
    Desmond came to sit beside me on the edge of the quay. ‘Do you know,’ he said, ‘what a shearwater is?’
    â€˜What? Is it a bird?’
    â€˜I spotted a pair near the St Anthony lookout. The first I have ever seen. Quite big birds – wings a foot across. It must be the great shearwater.’ Desmond plucked at his lip. ‘ It is a surprise to see them close inland. They usually stay well out to sea.’
    â€˜What colour are they?’ I asked.
    â€˜Palish brown – bit mottled, I should think. I only saw them for a few minutes as they whirled about the rocks.’
    â€˜When was this?’
    â€˜Just now. Half an hour ago.’ He looked at me quizzically. ‘You are interested?’
    â€˜Of course. Though I know little about the subject.’
    â€˜I’ll lend you some books.’
    â€˜Thank you.’
    Silence fell. Then he suddenly said: ‘Emma, do you know that I have asked Tamsin to marry me?’
    â€˜I had a feeling … Has she said yes?’
    â€˜Not yet. Not in so many words. But I believe she will.’ There was another pause. ‘ Has she said anything to you?’
    â€˜You know I’m rather in disgrace with my family at present.’
    â€˜Oh, you’re not in disgrace with me,’ he said. ‘You – er – kicked over the traces a little, but it was in a good cause. I’m as starved of music as you are. When – if – we marry, I shall take her once a year to London to all the concerts.’
    I forbore to say that Tamsin might not enjoy this.
    â€˜I want you to know,’ he said and stopped.
    â€˜Yes?’
    â€˜I want you to know that if we marry, Tamsin and I, her sister need not feel it necessary to leave and find employment elsewhere. She will always be welcome in the house.’
    So he had heard something; they had been talking about it; my mother was still considering her threat.
    â€˜Why, thank you, Desmond. That is – very generous and kind. I really have not considered my future very much since Uncle Davey died. Clearly I shall never marry.’ The last sentence came out abruptly, and I thought: it may not be true – it still may not be true! But what has happened? Perhaps Bram is disgusted with me. Perhaps even disgusted with himself. Not a sign, not a note. Only a starfish brooch. ‘Has my mother mentioned it to you?’
    â€˜Mentioned? … Well, not in so many words … She did say …’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜But that was in her moments of worst anger. I am sure that things have cooled down a great deal since then. Don’t you feel it?’
    â€˜Desmond, what did she say?’
    He made a little gesture of impatience. ‘She and I have, of course, discussed my proposal of marriage to Tamsin; I mean when Tamsin has not been there. And my aunt did say once that if we did marry it would not be suitable if you stayed on here. She wishes to go back to London herself, and she thinks as a young married couple we should be left alone together. I was simply assuring you that it is not my thinking. There is ample room if you wish to stay.’
    â€˜Thank you,’ I said, touching his hand. ‘ Thank you, Desmond.’
    â€˜Of course,’ he went on, ‘it will not be all plain sailing just yet. I’m not sure about Samuel, and Anna Maria does not favour the match.’
    â€˜Oh? Why?’
    â€˜I think she has taken her opinion from Edward Carlyon who does not