enough, but only that he resents loving you too much.’
Ravella looked up in a kind of wonder at these words, but just then, in a roar of the gale, as a heavy breaker crashed against the harbour-stones, there came a decided knock upon the front door, a heavy rapping that demanded attention.
The women froze.
‘Who is it?’ cried Ravella, in a voice of awe. ‘Who would come out in that storm?’ Her mind, upset already, began to race on ghosts and fairytales, and the devil coming out of the sea.
The knock repeated— the suppliant persisted still.
‘Oh! I’ve no doubt it’s your Mr. Trevick again!’ declared Mrs. Manderville, ‘come back with his apologies, and all about how he’s been eating his heart with remorse and loving you. Mark my words!’
She hurried to the front door, while Ravella, in a fit of anxiety that it must be something far worse, tagged along behind, tugging at her sleeve.
The bolt turned, the door snapped open with a gust and a person tumbled in upon them. Ravella exclaimed, and the stranger, on looking up, exclaimed too, before flying to embrace her gleefully. It was Clare Belmont, much windswept and travel-weary, though nonetheless enthusiastic for having happened upon her dear friend.
‘Ravella!’ she cried, drawing salt-damp hair from her face. ‘So this is where you’ve been hiding! I’ve found you out at last— and I only came in to ask the way!’
‘Ask the way!’ repeated Ravella. ‘Why, where are you going?’
‘To Hurlevor Point, of course! Oh, Ravella, we’ve made up— we’re going to make a go of it! I’m so happy! He asked me down, and of course I’ve come— oh, Ravella!’ She hugged her friend again. ‘I love him so much!’
‘But— wait,’ gasped Ravella, ‘what do you mean, when did all this happen?’
‘Just now— a hundred years ago!’ she enthused. ‘He called me this afternoon— I was so glad to hear from him! He said he was sorry for being so cold, but hoped I’d be happy with Guy— with Guy! Well, I told him I’ve never felt anything for Guy, not like I feel for him— and he was surprised, and we got talking— and talking and talking and talking! Oh, it was just like we used to be! Then he said he had to think, and we said goodbye. That left me biting my nails, you can imagine— but then later he called again, and we talked again, and I told him I still love him, and he said he’d made a big mistake— that he had to see me— and he was so sweet, Ravella, I just jumped in the car, and, well— here I am!’
The course of this gabble was met by a silent gape from Ravella, who waited out its conclusion aghast, before managing to stutter: ‘But this is so sudden, Clare! I mean— Clare! Does he— love you?’
She was hugged again. ‘Oh yes, I’m sure of it, Ravella, so sure!’
‘Sure! But you were sure before!’
‘And I was right before, too. Although he got himself jealous and all, he still loved me, didn’t he? This proves it!’
‘Proof! Love! I— I don’t know what to say!’
‘I know!’ agreed Clare. ‘I’m speechless myself!’
‘But Clare,’ rounded Ravella sternly, though avoiding her eyes, ‘isn’t this being too hasty? You don’t know what he really feels— what if he hurts you again? What about Guy? What does he feel? At least you can depend on Guy, at least Guy loves you openly. Besides, he’s so kind, so handsome— really I can’t escape the idea of how happy you’d be staying with Guy!’
Clare laughed and kissed her friend’s cheek. ‘Ravella, I know you’re concerned about me and want me to be safe, but I can’t be safe, I can’t be content without James. I know I ought to be with Guy, I know what’s sensible, and comfortable— but I don’t want that, I can’t make do with it— I must have James! Even if he makes me miserable every day forever, I’ll be happier sobbing my heart out for him, than being settled with Guy!’
‘You only say that because you’re in a flurry,’ snapped Ravella.
‘No,’ replied the other, ‘you only say that, because you’ve never loved, Ravella, not really loved, like I love James. If you had, you’d understand that I can’t be cold, I can’t reason out my emotions, and I can’t be content— I must, must have James!’
Now Ravella frowned darkly. ‘I have loved,’ she countered, ‘so I know what you’ve told yourself. But nowadays I have nothing to do with it, and can reason all my emotions if I will. Look at what your love has done to me.’
But Clare was already rushing away, having gleaned the direction from Mrs. Manderville, who stood agog the while. Now turning a last kiss and a ‘Wish me luck,’ upon her friend, the love-struck lady vanished once more into the night, to fly to her amorous rendezvous.
No sooner had the bolt clicked than Ravella, glowering like a wildcat, flung the gin bottle at it, which smashed spectacularly. Then she fell down in a rage, and Mrs. Manderville flew to attend her once more.
‘It looks bad,’ she began —Ravella uttered a scream. ‘Yes my dear,’ she went on, ‘but it’s only looks, you know, him casting you off for that daft girlie,’ (another howl) ‘and making such a meal of it. But it doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t love her any more than I do. He wants to love her, without a doubt, and she’s simple enough to think he does, but it isn’t true. He loves you, my lover, but he’d marry her out of sheer pride tomorrow.’
‘Love!’ seethed Ravella. ‘Why does it always ruin me? I thought I’d conquered it, but it always bites me back!’
‘You must make friends with love if he’s to do you any good. Use him, don’t force him, and then he’ll give you what you want.’
‘Oh, that’s what I tried to do, keep everybody happily in and out of love, while I got exactly what I wanted. But now this! It’s all wrecked, all my best plans!’
‘Tell me honestly,’ said Mrs. Manderville then, ‘do you really love Mr. Trevick?’
‘I tell you I don’t love anyone!’ she returned. ‘And least of all him, now that he’s thrashed me like this! But I’ll have my revenge— and serve it up laced with sugar. You’re right, Mrs. Manderville— he wants love, and wants me to die of it for him. But I’m not weak, and I won’t let him have his way. I shall love him, after my own fashion— and before I’m done he’ll hate love as much as I do, and wish he never wanted it!’
With that she began to ruminate on how she might bring it about, and absorbed herself in this idea so wholly that the small hours and the battling storm outside slipped by unheeded, while she paced and thought. Mrs. Manderville dozed off in her chair several times over, but whenever she started awake, Ravella paced still, involved in dark ideas. At last, however, she came to a pause, as the sun was glittering on the sea, and she looked up contemplatively. The landlady yawned, stretched her arms and asked what she had decided to do.
‘Nothing, for a while,’ came the slow reply. ‘You know there are some kinds of cancer that grow quietly and subtly in the body, and no-one guesses you’re stricken, until suddenly one day you find out— and you panic at the emergency, but of course you’re already dead. That’s how James Trevick shall find it with me. He’ll think himself healthy enough, but all the while he’ll be loving me and hating it, but loving all the same, until I finally strike, overwhelm him, and have my triumph.’
‘It’s like I say myself,’ concurred Mrs. Manderville, ‘you have to make friends with love, if you want to harness him.’
Ravella smiled and looked out of the window at the sea. ‘I used to be afraid of it,’ she said, ‘but now it’s time I tempered him to my will.’
Mrs. Manderville laughed and went to put on the kettle. ‘I daresay once you’ve made up your mind, my darlin’, it’s as good as fate. And it’s more than that— we’ve got allies, see? After my old man died, I found an old pools ticket hidden in the pocket of his garden trousers, which he’d left there. And well I never if I didn’t win a hundred pound on it! He was helping me out, see? And sure enough your old man will see you right too, for all he’s at the bottom of the ocean. Somehow he’ll come back for you.’
&nbs
p; But Ravella did not heed this prattle, as she was curled up fast asleep by the fire, as blissful as a kitten.
IV
So she waited out the winter, hibernating her powers and leaving them to ferment. The summer languished and palled, the sea grew colder and the flowers in the garden ceased to bloom, but nurtured their seeds; birds were seen in the sky, soaring a great way off, bidding goodbye to the shore for weeks and months together, pursuing their ritual paths; the leaves withered and dropped into mulch, concealing the squirrels’ careful stashes and feathering over the beds of sleeping hedgehogs, dormant beneath their spines; the evenings drew in dark and secretively over cosy homes and drawn curtains, while wanderers donned hats, scarves and mittens. Summer was forgotten, and all was still without, and inward looking.
Closeted in their rooms on the shore at Hurlevor Point, exposed to the harsh coastal tumults, but warm and close behind shutters and heavy glazing, James Trevick and Clare Belmont made their love anew. Apologies, explanations and forgiveness began the reunion, which led on to reiterating their feelings and repeating their vows in a mutually complimentary bliss. Trevick did not mention his suspicions of Ravella, and Clare did not mistrust at all; they were each too involved in the other to admit of any disparity.
The months drew on and Clare remained. As the seasons turned they fortified themselves against the