Patricia Wentworth - Danger Point

“Oh, I think I made too much of it. I couldn’t have been in any real danger.”

“It is most alarming to get out of one’s depth,” said Miss Silver. “I think you mentioned that you were not a good swimmer.”

Lisle tried for a smile.

“Oh, not at all. And the others are so good. I went farther out than I meant to and could not get back, and they were laughing, and splashing, and ducking one another, so they didn’t hear me.” She looked at Miss Silver with wide, darkened eyes. “It’s rather horrid when you call and no one hears you.”

“But somebody did hear you,” said Miss Silver briskly.

Lisle’s golden brown lashes came down and hid her eyes. A bright colour showed in her cheeks and ebbed again. She said in a soft, confused voice,

“I don’t know – I don’t remember – it was just like drowning – I went down, you know.”

“Who saved you, Mrs. Jerningham?”

“There was a man bathing off the beach. People aren’t supposed to – the ground all belongs to Tanfield – but he had run his car on to the downs and come down by the cliff path. I don’t even know his name – nobody thought of asking him. But he heard me call and saw me go down, and swam out and brought me in. I was quite a long time coming round.” She stopped and went on again, stumbling over her words. “It – it was dreadful for my – husband and – the others to – to think of my being nearly drowned so – so close to them. Dale was – was dreadfully upset. And my bathing-dress got torn at the neck where the man caught hold of me, so – so I have to get another. I haven’t bathed since, but it’s no good putting it off, is it? The only way to get over being nervous about a thing is to go on and do it. Don’t you think so?”

“Sometimes,” said Miss Silver. “But I don’t think I should go out of my depth if I were you.”

Lisle said, “No.” And then, “Rafe said that too. But Dale is such a good swimmer that he wants me to try – Which of these shall I get? Do you like the cream? I have a cream rubber cap.”

“I shouldn’t go out of my depth,” said Miss Silver gravely. “Are you coming to see me, my dear?”

Lisle looked at her for a moment, and then looked away. The look held sadness, but no embarrassment.

“I don’t think I can.”

Miss Silver came nearer.

“I want to ask you a question. Will you believe that I have a serious reason for asking it, and not think me impertinent?”

Lisle raised her head and looked round quickly. They were alone at the counter. To the right the stocking counter was doing a brisk business. They were as much alone as if four solid walls had closed them in. She said in a young, warm voice,

“I should never think that.”

Miss Silver coughed.

“You told me you had made a will in your husband’s favour. I want to ask you whether there were any other substantial legacies.”

Lisle caught her breath. She had not expected this. Rafe… She repeated the name aloud.

“Rafe – there was one for Rafe.”

“Does he know that?”

“Yes – I told him-”

“A substantial legacy?”

“Twenty thousand pounds.”

Miss Silver leaned towards her and said in the lowest possible voice,

“Mrs. Jerningham – will you take my advice? Will you do something?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Ring up your solicitor – now, at once, from here. Tell him you are not satisfied with your will and you propose to make a new one. Tell him you wish the old one destroyed – now, at once. I do not know whether he will take such an instruction over the telephone. If he knows you well enough to be quite sure that it is you who are speaking, he may do so – it does not really very much matter. Instruct him to do it and ring off. Then go home and tell every member of your family what you have done. Make any excuse you like, but make it quite clear that you have given instructions to have your existing will destroyed. Go up to town as soon as you can and make sure that these instructions have been carried out. Make a provisional will leaving everything to some charity.”

Lisle did not look at her. She put out a hand and groped for Miss Silver’s hand. Her eyes were fixed upon the cream-coloured bathing-dress. She said,

“Why – why?”

“Don’t you know why? Come and see me, my dear.”

The fair head was very slightly shaken.

“I can’t do that.” The hand on Miss Silver’s wrist withdrew.

Miss Silver looked at her.

“Take my advice and do not go out of your depth.”

The saleswoman was coming back. “I’m out of it already,” said Lisle Jerningham in an extinguished voice.

LISLE sat silent in the front of Rafe’s little car. He looked sideways at her when they were clear of the town and said,

“Why so pale and wan, honey-sweet? Didn’t the shopping go well? You didn’t tell me what you were going to buy.”

A brief colour came to the cheek across which his glance had travelled – came, and went again.

“I bought a bathing-dress. Mine got torn-”

He said, “Yes – so it did.”

She saw his left hand tighten on the wheel. The knuckles showed bone-white under the brown skin. He might have been remembering twenty minutes of as hot a day as this, with her body limp and cold in a torn bathing-dress, whilst he and Dale and a stranger laboured to make reluctant lungs breathe again.

He laughed suddenly.

“Messed it up properly, didn’t you?

Are you all set on going bathing again?”

“I shan’t go out of my depth.” She felt her cheeks burn, and said in a hurry, “Did I keep you waiting? I didn’t mean to. I – I met someone.”

“So did I – one always does. I hope yours was amusing. Mine was the last girl friend but three – or four – or even more – anyhow there she was, shamelessly buxom, with twins in a double perambulator. I must say I like my lost loves to show a decent melancholy when they run into me like that.”

Lisle could not help laughing. She got a look poignant with reproach.

“Do you know, she married a fat man who jobs stocks. As Tennyson says:

Lisle’s eyes danced.

“Perhaps she was afraid your heart was going to be too wide. She might have got lost in the crowd.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t go in for crowds. I’m highly selective, like the best wireless sets. Only one station at a time – no overlapping, no jamming, no atmospherics – perfect reception. Try our 1939 ten-valve super-het and be happy ever after! You’d think some would jump at it, wouldn’t you? But no – they go off and marry butchers, and bakers, and candlestick-makers and have twins.”

“How many girls have there really been, Rafe?”

“I’ve lost count years ago. It’s the quest for the ideal, you know. I always hope I’m going to find it, but I never do. If a girl’s got one thing, she hasn’t got another. The odds are that the perfect complexion means a perfect circulation and a refrigerating plant instead of a heart, and if they dance like a dream they’re no good at soothing the brow when it’s wrung with pain and anguish. I don’t mind walking out with a hard-hearted Hannah, but I’m damned if I’m going to live with one – and that’s not swearing, it’s bed-rock fact, because I should probably get up in the night and cut her throat.”

Lisle shivered and said, “Don’t!”

“Don’t worry, darling, I’m not going to. My trouble is that I want too much – beauty, charm, delight, and all the moral virtues. And if anyone like that ever existed, someone else would have married her first.”