Man of the Trees (2 page)

But then, all at once, she wanted to laugh. What an extraordinary thing! She had just had a most flaming row with a complete stranger, and in a way, she had enjoyed it. At any rate she had found it stimulating. Then back came her annoyance again. It was no laughing matter. She had never met anyone so insufferably rude. He was the very kind of man she absolutely could not stand, the kind who considered himself to be so vastly superior to everyone else, particularly women.

She walked back home and tried to dismiss the unpleasant character from her mind, but it was not easy. One did not often meet a person like that. He said he had had permission from the District Officer to enter the inclosure. Was he, then, a friend of the D.O.? Ruth hoped not. She never wanted to see
that
man again.

Back home, she became aware of the silence of the house in a way she never had before, and she couldn’t think why. She was well used to being in alone. Her father had been in the habit of coming home for his meals, of course, and had spent most evenings at home either playing the piano or talking or playing records. But during the day she had been accustomed to working alone.

‘Oh, blow,’ she said to herself. Meeting that man had unsettled her. Ridiculous, of course.

She climbed up to her studio and tried to settle to work again. As a professional she had trained herself to be able to work whether she felt particularly inspired or not. But after a little while she flung down her brush. What was wrong with her this morning? It was not that she lacked so-called inspiration, she was simply not concentrating. It really was ridiculous.

She went downstairs again and discovered she was hungry, so she made some brown bread toast and scrambled some eggs, then sat on the hearthrug and ate. She had barely finished when she reached out for a sketchbook and began to draw—trees; tall trees. She loved them. Long, firm strokes, tips pointing into the blue sky—and leaning against one of them a man.

In disgust, she flung down the pad and pencil again. She really would have to get that horrible man out of her system.

She picked up the day’s local newspaper and started to look down the properties for sale. Her father had not left her without money. It was time she started seriously to look for a house. The new Head Forester would want this before long. It must be a house with a garden. She simply could not exist without a garden—somewhere to wander around in, to have meals in during the summer. And a house with a room big enough to hold her father’s grand piano. Gareth lived with his sister and her husband and they had suggested she might like to live with them, but Ruth wanted to be free. She would want a room she could use as a studio and her own articles of furniture around her, her own disorder.

After she had made note of one or two places, she felt better, and after lunch went upstairs again and worked for the rest of the afternoon. She had forgotten all about Gareth asking her to go to the Foresters’ Club that evening until the telephone rang about seven.

‘Guess what?’ Gareth said over the wire.

She grunted. ‘Surprise me, I’m no good at guessing.’

‘The new Forester has arrived. Ross Hamilton.’

‘Oh, really? Bully for him.’

‘Like a chance to meet him?’

‘Not particularly.’

‘Oh, come on, Ruth, it will be fun. The D.O. is bringing him to the Club tonight especially to meet a few people. You’ll have to meet him some time. Why not tonight? I want to see you, anyway.’

She stretched back her shoulders. ‘I’ve had a hard day, Gareth. I’ve been working until now.’

‘Well, take a rest and I’ll come out and fetch you. You’d be doing me a favour. If you don’t come I shall be the odd man out. Everybody else is going—and they’re mostly paired off into husband and wife teams.’

She relented. ‘All right, Gareth—but I’m not dressing up for him. There’ll be enough of that, I imagine.’

‘Come just as you are.’

She laughed. ‘In the gear I was wearing this morning? I look a sight.’

‘You looked all right to me this morning. Have you eaten yet?’

‘Not since lunch.’

‘Well, you must have something. Tell you what—Jill’s just made the most enormous steak and kidney pie. I’ll come and fetch you and you can help to eat it. Then we’ll all go along to the Club and meet this new bloke. I’ll be there in about ten minutes. Right?’

‘Yes, all right. You’ve talked me into it.’

Ruth hung up and rubbed the back of her neck to ease the stiffness. She didn’t really want to go out. On the other hand, she was missing her father and felt restless.

To ease her aching neck she flung herself down on to the long settee and arranged the cushions in a way which relaxed her neck and shoulders. She would just have a few minutes’ rest, then change. She couldn’t very well go to the Club like this. She had no intention of dressing to impress this new Head Forester, but at the same time she didn’t want to go to the other extreme. She closed her eyes and relaxed and felt her weariness flowing out of her.

It was a ring at the front door bell which roused her, and she realised she had fallen asleep. Gareth had called for her, and she hadn’t even washed her hands and face.

‘Don’t
worry
,’ Gareth told her. ‘You’ve been to the club like that before. The steak and kidney pie is waiting. Besides, I should think it will be good for Ross Hamilton to realise that not every woman is out to impress him. You should see Jill—even though she is married.’

For some reason Ruth suddenly thought about the man she had encountered in the Forest that morning. From the sound of things the new Forester was just such a man—the very worst kind of male chauvinist, certainly not worth dressing up for.

‘Just give me two minutes,’ she said to Gareth. ‘Out of courtesy to Jill and Hugh I must at least wash my hands, but they’re used to seeing me like this—and the New Forester can lump it.’

The news that the new Head Forester was to be at the Club that evening had spread like a forest fire, according to Gareth’s sister.

‘There’s going to be a terrific crowd there. The phone hasn’t stopped ringing all afternoon,’ she informed them as she served the meal—dressed, Ruth noticed, in one of her best outfits.

‘I can’t think what all the fuss is about,’ she answered. ‘Anyone would think we’ve never had anyone new on the Beat before.’

‘That’s what I keep saying,’ said Hugh, her husband. ‘But you know what women are.’

‘I know what men are, too,’ Jill retorted. ‘Look at all the fuss the men made when that new woman doctor came to live here. The men were falling over themselves to date her, married or single. So you have no room to talk.’

Hugh shrugged and grinned a little sheepishly. ‘Well, I suppose it’s only natural. We’re something of a close-knit community when you come to think of it. A new face always arouses a certain amount of interest.’

‘But never quite so much as Ross Hamilton has,’ Gareth said.

‘Some of you men get too complacent,’ Jill returned. ‘It will do you good to have a bit of competition.’ She cast a meaningful glance at Ruth.

Ruth gave a brief laugh. ‘You can count me out of any “competition”. He sounds just the kind of man I love to hate.’

‘Well, you’re just the one who’s most likely to fall,’ Jill told her. ‘Is that why you haven’t bothered to change?’

‘Partly, and partly because I didn’t have time. I worked late and fell asleep. If it hadn’t been for Gareth, I probably wouldn’t have come at all.’

‘In that get-up,’ Jill told her, with the candidness of an old friend, ‘he’ll probably notice you even more.’

‘I don’t care whether he does or whether he doesn’t,’ asserted Ruth.

Jill rushed them through their meal. ‘If we’re late, we shan’t get a table—and I don’t like standing at the bar.’

The Foresters’ Club was a pleasant place. It was fairly new, and Ruth had been commissioned to paint a mural along the whole of one wall which depicted a forest scene. Other paintings of hers graced the other walls, and the whole atmosphere was bright and at the same time restful, with comfortable chairs, and tables made of natural wood.

Already the place was almost full and they had to share a table with one of the other Foresters and his wife, Jack and Doris Hetherington.

Gareth went to the bar to get drinks for them all.

‘The new man’s not here yet, then?’ Hugh said to Jack.

‘Haven’t seen any strangers,’ answered Jack. ‘I wonder why we’re being treated to this preview. He’s not due until Monday.’

‘Must be eager to make a start. Still, it is Friday, after all.’

Gareth came back with the drinks and Doris passed some remark about Ruth soon having to get out of her house. Then all at once there was a slight lull in the conversation.

‘Here he is now, by the look of things,’ Gareth said as the District Officer came in followed by a tall stranger.

‘Oh, no!’ Ruth clapped her hand to her mouth and stared. It was the man she had met in the forest that morning. ‘I might have known,’ she said slowly.

Gareth gave her a puzzled look. ‘What’s the matter? Do you know him?’

Ruth gave a long sigh and shook her head. ‘Not really. I came across him in the pinewood inclosure this morning. He passed one or two remarks I took a very strong exception to. I didn’t know who he was, and of course he didn’t know who I was—unless the D.O. has furnished him with a full description or photograph, which seems unlikely. But I certainly took an instant dislike to him.’

Gareth glanced at her face. ‘Good lord! If looks could kill right now, he’d be dead. But what on earth did he say to you? It’s not like you to dislike people so easily.’

Ruth continued to watch Ross Hamilton through narrowed eyes as the D.O. propelled him to the bar.

‘He’s every bit as insufferable as we thought he would be. I can’t ever remember feeling so infuriated with anyone!’

Gareth gave a slow smile. ‘That’s very, very interesting. I don’t think he’s seen you yet. I wonder what his reaction will be when he realises who you are?’ ‘Goodness knows. I’ve half a mind to go home. I’m not at all sure I want to meet him.’

‘Don’t do that,’ Gareth said swiftly. ‘If you go, I shall have to go, too, and as I said earlier on, you’ve got to meet him some time—officially, I mean. We all have. It’s a wonder to me that the D.O. didn’t take him to see over the house as he’s in the area.’

Ruth grunted. ‘It might have been better if he had. Under those circumstances I don’t suppose he would have been so rude. On the other hand, I don’t think it would have much mattered how I’d first met him. A man like that can’t hide what he is for long. I don’t envy you your new boss.’ She had a niggling feeling that she might be misjudging the man. After all, she had only had the briefest of encounters with him. Perhaps he improved on further acquaintance. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said swiftly to Gareth. ‘I didn’t mean to prejudice you against him.’

Gareth laughed and put his arm across her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry. I’m already prejudiced—and I trust your judgement, anyway. Look out, I think the D.O. is bringing him across.’

Having been served with their tankards of ale the D.O. was propelling him in their direction. Ruth suddenly found her anger against the man evaporating. Now she felt more amused, wondering how he would react when he saw her. Then she became annoyed with herself and a little panicky. She ought to still feel annoyed with him, but she didn’t, and couldn’t somehow resurrect her anger. There was something enormously compelling about him—his dark, rugged face, the way he walked. Ruth found her heart beating a little faster and was inwardly furious with herself. This was ridiculous. Before she knew where she was she was going to fall for all those charms he was supposed to have.

But as he drew near the table at which she was sitting, he looked straight at her, and again came that smile of sardonic amusement. She compressed her lips, her jaw tightening and her whole body becoming taut.

The two came to a halt and the D.O., a pleasant, if rather artificial kind of man, smiled politely.

‘Ah, there you are, Ruth. Meet our new Head Forester, Ross Hamilton. Hamilton, this is Ruth Medway. You must get her to show you the house. I’m sure you’ll like it. It’s in a perfect position for seeing the Beat overall.’

Ross regarded Ruth with narrowed eyes. ‘Miss Medway and I sort of—met this morning.’ His eyes—a startling blue—flicked over her appearance. ‘I’d have recognised her from her—er—apparel, if nothing else.’

Ruth made no attempt to offer her hand. She just stared at him without smiling.

‘This is my working gear, Mr.—er—Hamilton. It hardly seemed worth the effort to change for this evening.’

She hoped she had made her meaning clear. There was a faint lifting of his dark brows. The D.O. gave an embarrassed little cough and quickly introduced Gareth. It was then she realised that Gareth still had his arm across her shoulders. Unhurriedly, he removed it to proffer his hand to the newcomer.

‘Glad to meet you,’ he said, and managed to sound almost convincing.

Ross Hamilton shook hands with him briefly and merely nodded before the D.O. passed on to the others seated at the table.

Ruth sat tense and angry as vaguely, she heard Jill’s effusive expressions of pleasure at meeting him, hoping he would be happy in the New Forest and inviting him to have dinner with them one evening.