Hold the Dream. Barbara Taylor Bradford

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СКАЧАТЬ a gilt Georgian mirror, and was flanked on either side by Sheraton chairs upholstered in apricot velvet. Illuminating the hall was a huge antique crystal-and-bronze-dore chandelier which dropped down from the domed ceiling, and the setting had elegance without the slightest hint of ostentation.

      Crossing the hall, Blackie went into the drawing room. Here a log fire burned cheerily in the Adam fireplace, and the silk-shaded lamps cast rafts of warming light on to the cool green walls, on the sofas and chairs covered in darker green silk. Splendid paintings, and Sheraton and Hep-plewhite antiques, added to the graciousness of the room, which exemplified Blackie’s sense of style and colour and perspective in furniture and design.

      He fussed with the bottle of champagne in the silver wine cooler, turning it several times, shifting the ice around, then he took a cigar from the humidor and went over to his favourite chair to wait. He had no sooner trimmed the cigar, and lighted it, than he heard them in the hall. He put the cigar in the ashtray, and rose.

      ‘There you are, mavourneen,’ he cried, hurrying to meet Emma as she came into the room. There was a wide smile on his ruddy face as he exclaimed, ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes.’ He hugged her tightly to his broad chest, held her away and looked down at her. He smiled again, admiration shining in his eyes. ‘And aren’t you my bonny colleen tonight.’

      Emma smiled back at him, love and warmth overflowing in her. ‘Thank you, Blackie dear. And I must admit, you don’t look so bad yourself. That’s a beautiful suit.’ Her eyes twinkled merrily as she ran a hand down his arm expertly. ‘Mmmm. Very nice cloth. It feels like a bit of my best worsted.’

      ‘It is, it is,’ Blackie said, and winked at Shane who was standing behind Emma. ‘Would I be wearing anything else now. But come, me darlin’, and sit here, and let me get you a glass of champagne.’

      Emma allowed him to guide her across the room to the sofa. She sat down, and a brow lifted. ‘Are we celebrating something?’

      ‘No, no, not really. Unless it’s reaching our grand old ages and being in such good health.’ He squeezed her shoulder affectionately, added, ‘Also, I know you prefer wine to the stronger stuff.’ He glanced at Shane. ‘Would you do the honours, me boy? And make mine a drop of me good Irish.’

      ‘Right you are, Grandfather.’

      Blackie seated himself in the chair facing Emma, picked up his cigar and puffed on it reflectively for a moment, then said to her, ‘And I expect you’ve had a busy day as usual. I’m beginning to wonder if you’ll ever retire … as you’re constantly threatening to do.’

      ‘I don’t suppose I ever will,’ Emma laughed. ‘You know very well I plan to go with my boots on.’

      Blackie shot her a chastising look. ‘Don’t talk to me about dying. I’ve no intention of doing that for a long time.’ He chuckled softly. ‘I’ve a lot more damage to do yet.’

      Emma laughed with him, and so did Shane, who carried their drinks over to them. He fetched his own, and they clinked glasses and toasted each other. Shane took a swallow of his scotch, and said, ‘Would you both excuse me for a few minutes. I have to phone Winston.’

      Emma said, ‘I hope you have better luck than I did. I was trying to get him for ages, earlier. First the line was busy, then there was no answer.’

      Shane frowned. ‘Perhaps he’d slipped down to the village. Any message, Aunt Emma?’

      ‘Tell him that we didn’t – ’Changing her mind, she broke off and shook her head. ‘Never mind, Shane. It’s not important. I’ll be seeing him tomorrow, and I’m sure we’ll have a chance to chat at some point then.’

      When they were alone, Blackie reached across and took Emma’s hand in his, and stared deeply into her face. ‘It’s grand to see you, me darlin’. I’ve missed you.’

      Emma’s eyes danced. ‘Get along with you, you silly old thing. You just saw me the day before yesterday,’ she exclaimed, amusement surfacing. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our dinner at Pennistone.’

      ‘Of course I haven’t. But it seems like a long time to me, caring about you the way I do.’ He patted her hand affectionately and sat back in his chair, giving her the fondest of looks. ‘And I meant it when I said you looked bonny, Emma. You’re a real bobby dazzler in that dress, it’s very flattering on you, me darlin’ girl.’

      ‘Some girl! But thank you, I’m glad you like it,’ she answered with a smile of real pleasure. ‘My friend Ginette Spanier, at Balmain’s, picked it out for me and had it shipped over from Paris last week. Mind you, Edwina was rather scathing earlier. She told me it was too young for me, the colour, you know.’

      Blackie’s expression altered radically. ‘She was just being catty, Emma. Edwina’s got a chip on her shoulder the size of that old oak tree out yonder in my garden. She’ll never change.’ He noticed the look of pain flit across Emma’s face, and he frowned with concern for her, cursing her daughter under his breath, Edwina had always been troublesome. But then so had most of the others, and there were a couple of Emma’s children whom he could quite cheerfully strangle with his bare hands. He cried heatedly, ‘I hope she’s not been giving you a hard time!’

      ‘No, not really.’

      She sounded unusually hesitant, and Blackie spotted this immediately, and shook his marvellous white, leonine head, and exhaled in exasperation. ‘I’ll never understand Jim. I don’t know what prompted him to invite her. It was stupid on his part, if you ask me.’

      ‘Yes, and Paula was upset too, but I decided not to intervene. I thought it would look petty. But …’ Emma shrugged, and, since she confided most things in Blackie these days, she told him about her conversation with Edwina, her attempts to reason with her daughter.

      Blackie listened carefully, occasionally nodding, and when she had finished he said, in a low voice, ‘Well, I’m happy for Sally, if this is what she wants. She’s a lovely lass, and Anthony is a nice chap. Down-to-earth, and not a bit stuck up, which is more than I can say for that mother of his.’ He paused. Recollections swamped him. Slowly, he added, ‘She was most peculiar when she was growing up, and never very nice to you, Emma. Always slighting you, if I remember correctly, and believe me, I do. I haven’t forgotten how she used to show her preference for Joe Lowther, making it so bloody obvious too. She was a little bitch, and she hasn’t changed. Please promise me you’ll let this matter about Anthony rest. I don’t want you getting agitated because of Edwina. She’s not worth it.’

      ‘Yes, you’re right, and I. promise.’ She smiled faintly. ‘Let’s forget about Edwina. Where are you taking me to dinner? Shane was most mysterious when we were driving over here.’

      ‘Was he now, mavourneen.’ Blackie grinned from ear to ear. ‘To tell you the truth, Emma, I couldn’t think of a nice enough place, so I told Mrs Padgett to prepare dinner for us here. I know you like her home cooking, and she’s rustled up a lovely bit of spring lamb. I told her to make new potatoes, brussel sprouts and Yorkshire pudding, all your favourites. Now, me darlin’, how does that sound to you?’

      ‘Delicious, and I’m glad we’re not going out. It’s much cosier here, and I do feel a bit tired.’

      His black eyes narrowed under his bushy brows as he examined her alertly. ‘Ah,’ he said softly, ‘so you’re finally admitting it. I do wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard. There’s no need for it any more, you know.’

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