Silver Fruit Upon Silver Trees. Anne Mather

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      When they reached the top of the steps and she stopped at the entrance to the house, Edge bumped into her and for a moment his hand was on her arm, supporting her, as he apologized.

      “It – it was my fault,” said Sophie jerkily, pulling herself away from him. She was unnecessarily abrupt, but for a moment his flesh had burned hers and she couldn’t help but be aware of it. She had felt the hardness of his lean body, her arms had brushed against the soft silk of his shirt beneath which the muscles of his chest had been disturbingly firm, and she had known an intense, and wholly incomprehensible desire to remain there against him. She wasn’t used to experiencing feelings like this, and she chided herself for being stupidly imaginative. Heavens, she was supposed to be his niece! What would he have thought of her if he had been able to read her thoughts just then?

      Edge led the way through a mesh door into a cool tiled hall. The hall appeared to run from front to back of the building with several other passages leading from it, while a curved wrought iron staircase led to the upper floors. A tall stand supported a vase of gorgeously coloured lilies, their fleshy stamens protruding in a totally alien fashion. The hall was illuminated by a copper-based lamp that had a painted Chinese shade.

      Sophie looked about her a trifle bemusedly. There was so much colour and beauty to absorb, but Edge was urging her forward, taking her across the hall and up a short flight of stairs to halt before a dark blue panelled door.

      “This is my father’s study,” he remarked, in explanation, and then pressed the handle and swung open the door.

      Sophie stepped forward into a comfortably furnished room, with skin rugs on the floor and a desk dominating the central area. She saw walls lined with leather volumes, filing cabinets, and a low couch, and a small table on which stood a couple of filing baskets and a typewriter. Clearly it was from here that Brandt St. Vincente conducted the affairs of the estate.

      But then a man rose from behind the desk to greet her; and all further impressions of the room ceased as the man commanded her whole attention.

      Brandt St. Vincente was nothing like she had imagined. After Eve’s appeals to her to come here to Trinidad to assuage the needs of an old man, Sophie had expected him to be in his seventies, frail and ill, living every day without really knowing how much time he had left.

      The real man was totally different. Like his son, he was years younger than she had expected, in his early sixties, she estimated. And what was more, he was a man in his prime, tall and vigorous, more heavily built than his son but very much like him, with thick hair that was greying now, and strong handsome features.

      He came round his desk to greet her, holding out both hands, and she put hers into them automatically, unable to deny the welcome he was showing her.

      “So you’re Eve!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “My Jennifer’s girl! I can hardly believe it.”

      “Why?” The word was scarcely more than a whisper, but it was all Sophie could think to say.

      Brandt squeezed her hands tightly. “It’s been so long,” he said, rather emotionally. But then he seemed to gather his composure again, and he went on: “I don’t suppose you knew anything about your mother.”

      “Not a lot,” admitted Sophie, nervously. “She – er – my father seldom spoke of her. It – it was too painful for him.”

      At the mention of James Hollister’s name, Brandt’s face changed. His lips tightened perceptibly and his brown eyes lost some of their warmth.

      “I think it would be as well if we forgot the past and concentrated on the present, don’t you? I mean, it’s obvious that there are things which if said would be painful to both of us. It’s no use resurrecting past grievances. And we’ve both had our share of grief, believe me. I suggest we begin afresh, learn to know one another without the distorting influences that were created by other people so many years ago.”

      Sophie nodded slowly. “I – I’m willing,” she murmured, looking down at her hands clasped in his.

      “Good! Good!” Brandt’s expression softened again. “You’ve no idea how happy you’ve made me. I’ve so looked forward to your coming here, to meeting you. We’re your family now, this is where you belong. Oh, I know you’ve got your career, but surely the family should come first, in spite of everything!”

      Sophie stared at him. She didn’t quite know how to answer him. But to her relief, she didn’t have to.

      “Relax!” he exclaimed. “Don’t look so nervous! We won’t bite, I promise you. On the contrary, it will be delightful to have a young woman about the place again.”

      Sophie glanced behind her. All the while his father had been speaking Edge had been standing silently near the door, watching them, a lazy smile playing about his lips. But now he stepped forward and said: “Joseph said practically the same thing. If I’d know you were both so eager for feminine company ...”

      His voice trailed away insinuatively and Brandt looked impatiently at his son. “Don’t be sarcastic, Edge. If this is any example of the welcome you’ve given your niece, I’m not surprised she looks nervous!”

      Edge looked speculatively at Sophie. “Well, perhaps we’re not what she expected either.”

      “What do you mean?” Brandt glared at him.

      Edge shrugged. “Oh, nothing.” He looked away from Sophie and drew his cigar case out of his pocket. “I think I’ll go and change for dinner. I feel rather – hot and uncomfortable.” His eyes flickered over Sophie again. “Perhaps – my niece would like to shower and change, too.”

      Brandt released Sophie’s hands apologetically and went to pull a long velvet cord hanging near a screened fireplace. “Of course, of course,” he exclaimed. “In the excitement of meeting you, my dear, I’m forgetting common courtesy. Of course, you must be tired and hungry. I’ll have Violet show you to your room and we’ll dine in – say –” he glanced at his wrist watch, “– say – thirty minutes? Do you think that will be long enough for you to get ready?”

      “Of – of course.” Sophie cupped her hands together. “I – I’d just like to say I’m – I’m very happy to be here.”

      Edge, a cigar between his teeth, walked to the door. “Oh, well said,” he remarked mockingly, and Sophie’s hands clenched into fists.

      “Ignore your uncle,” advised Brandt, giving his son a reproving glance. “Edge has a very cynical mind.”

      Edge swung open the door and leant against the jamb for a moment. “You always said we had a lot in common, Brandt,” he remarked lazily, and the door closed behind him with a definite click.

      After he had gone the room seemed suddenly empty. Sophie looked awkwardly at Eve’s grandfather. “You – you have a beautiful house,” she murmured. “I – I’m longing to see it in daylight.”

      “Indeed, yes.” Brandt seemed to relax and came towards her again smiling down into her eyes. “I’m sure you’re going to be happy here, Eve. If you’re not, it won’t be through the fault of not trying on my part. I intend to make your stay so enjoyable that you won’t want to leave us again. We have so much here to interest you.” He spread and encompassing hand. “Swimming; sailing; skin-diving, if you’re adventurous enough. Edge and Piers would СКАЧАТЬ