The Courtyard by Marcia Willett Page B

her hands over her face, picked up her glass and went to refill it. Even as she raised it to her lips, she heard John’s key in the lock and his step in the hall. He put his head round the door.
    â€˜So there you are.’ The smile, the thick fair hair, the blue eyes, were Rupert’s. And Jack’s. Her heart contracted with love. ‘I’ve got to meet a client at a property just round the corner so I thought I’d pop in for a quick cup of coffee,’ he said. His eye fell on her glass. ‘Goodness!’ His eyebrows shot up and the corners of his mouth down. ‘Bar’s open early, I see.’
    â€˜Oh, John.’ She stood the glass down and went to him. Thoughts struggled together in her head. Should she tell him now? Was there time to work through it all before he went to meet his client? Although she knew the unwisdom of it, her anxieties were so great that the words were out before she could stop them. ‘John, I saw the
Barclaycard statement. I didn’t mean to. I was tidying up and it fell on the floor. Oh, John, I didn’t realise things were so bad.’
    The smile died away as she spoke and a hastily assumed expression of surprise and amusement took its place. Nell recognised it and her heart sank.
    â€˜Poor Nell. That’ll teach you to go poking around in my study. Nothing to worry about. All under control. Bit of a cockup last month but everything will be sorted out in a day or two. Now what about some coffee? I haven’t got long.’
    Nell stared up at him, longing to believe him, wondering whether she dared mention the bank statement.
    â€˜But what went wrong? Are we … ?’ She hesitated. ‘Are we OK at the bank?’
    She waited. Her peace of mind hung on the manner in which he answered the question.
    â€˜The bank?’ His little frown of amazement, his chuckle which ridiculed the suggestion, struck fear into Nell’s heart. ‘Of course we are. Why ever not? You really mustn’t panic so easily, my darling. Martin told you that everything was fine as long as we don’t panic, didn’t he? You must just leave it all to us.’
    â€˜But, John.’ She couldn’t leave it alone and his face grew bleak. ‘Your Barclaycard’s right over its limit. If we’re OK at the bank, why have you let it go so far?’
    â€˜Nell, please!’ It was a plea and the compressed lips showed that he only just had himself in hand.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ she cried, ‘it was a shock! I simply can’t see why it should be so bad.’ She took his hands. ‘John, you must tell me if there’s a problem. Please! Let me share things with you.’
    â€˜Why does there have to be a problem?’ he demanded and his voice was high and full of fear and resentment. He pulled his hands from her clasp. ‘Why must you always assume that I’ve got it wrong?’
    â€˜Oh, darling, I don’t. I don’t I’m sorry. Look, let me make you some coffee.’ She turned away from him and went to the kettle.

    â€˜It’s too late now.’ His voice was still charged with emotion and she feared that he might burst into tears. ‘I’ve got to see this man. Oh Christ!’
    He ran out, his footsteps hurrying across the hall. Nell stood, clutching the kettle, unable to move. The front door slammed and there was silence.

Six
    Â 
    Â 
    GUSSIE WOULD NOT HAVE been able to accept Henry’s invitation to Nethercombe that summer if it hadn’t been for Nell who, in addition to her anxiety about John, was becoming more and more aware of Gussie’s stringent economies. When Gussie told her that she had decided not to go, as she didn’t feel quite up to the train journey, Nell put two and two together and made the total the price of a return ticket. A solution presented itself almost at once but Nell offered it to Gussie rather casually lest she should suspect and reject it on