Название: Castles Of Sand
Автор: Anne Mather
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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‘But their names are dissimilar. And Gauthier—that’s not an Arab name.
‘No.’ Ashley cleared her throat again. ‘There’s—there’s French ancestry somewhere in their history, and—and Alain’s mother was French, actually. She—she was his father’s second wife.’
Malcolm’s eyes narrowed. ‘You mean your husband and his brother had different mothers?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Hassan—your husband—his mother died?’
‘No.’ Ashley spoke tautly. ‘So far as I know, she’s still alive. Prince—Prince Ahmed is a Moslem.’
Malcolm was amazed. ‘I see.’
Ashley had had enough of this. Pushing back her chair, she got to her feet, moving away from Malcolm and stiffening her spine. ‘So you see,’ she said, endeavouring to speak calmly, ‘my remaining here is—is quite out of the question. I shall look—–’
‘Wait. Wait!’ Malcolm slid off the desk and stood facing her impotently, balling his hand into a fist, and pressing it into his palm. ‘Ashley, there must be something I can do, some way I can persuade you to change your mind.’ He paced restlessly across the floor. ‘If I were to transfer him to another class—transfer you to another class—–’
Ashley shook her head. ‘You couldn’t do that, Malcolm. He’s—seven. He should be with seven-year-olds.’
‘But there’s no reason why you shouldn’t take another form,’ Malcolm pointed out recklessly. ‘If I speak to Harry Rogers—–’
Ashley turned away. ‘He’d still be in the school.’
‘But—–’ Malcolm made a sound of frustration, ‘you wouldn’t know him. You need never see him. He would be just another boy—–’
‘You’re asking a lot,’ Ashley exclaimed, glancing at him over her shoulder. ‘Could you do it? Could you work here, knowing your son was in the school and didn’t know you?’
Malcolm had the grace to look disconcerted. ‘I don’t know.’
‘I don’t think you could,’ said Ashley steadily. ‘I don’t think anyone could.’
‘Well, you must give me time to think, to make arrangements,’ Malcolm exhorted desperately. ‘Tomorrow the boarders return, and the day after that school re-opens. You can’t abandon me without notice, Ashley.’
Ashley held up her head. ‘How much notice do you want?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. A month is usual. A term would be better.’
‘And in my case?’
Malcolm sighed. ‘Two weeks?’ he ventured tentatively.
‘Two weeks!’ Ashley sucked in her breath. ‘Malcolm—–’
‘I’ll transfer you. I’ll let Rogers take your form. Who knows, you may change your mind.’
‘I won’t.’ Ashley was very definite about that. But she managed to maintain a semblance of composure as she added: ‘I’ll submit my written resignation this afternoon. And I’ll transfer my things to Room 1A.’
Malcolm made a baffled gesture. ‘Won’t you at least think about this, Ashley? You’ve been here five years!’
‘I know.’ Ashley moved towards the door. ‘And they’ve been good years. But you must see, I have to do this.’
Eventually he let her go, but she knew he was not entirely satisfied that she was determined. He still held out hopes that she might change her mind, while Ashley knew that nothing he said or did could alter her decision. She would be sad to leave Brede School. She had been happy here, or at least, she had been content. Now she was lost and uncertain, with the unwelcome knowledge that it was not going to be easy to find another post. It was the wrong time of the year, and she could only hope that there was someone else, like her, who suddenly found her present position intolerable.
But even as these thoughts occurred to her, they were superseded by others. Andrew was going to be living in England, in London, and unless she took a post out of the capital, he would always be only a few miles away. Her small flat in Kilburn was only a bus ride from the school. She could make it there in less than half an hour. Could she bear to go on living within breathing distance of her son?
She hurried along the corridor from Malcolm’s study with a feeling of impending disaster weighing down on her. Why, oh, why had Alain chosen to send the boy back to England to be educated? She would never have expected it of him. The United States, perhaps, but not England. Not after everything that had happened.
And then again, she argued, why not? Both Alain and Hassan had been educated in England. Why should she have imagined anything less would be good enough for Andrew? He was a Gauthier. And unless Alain had married and produced a son, the only heir to his grandfather’s fortune.
Ashley’s stomach churned. Alain could have married, she acknowledged, but the thought still had the power to leave her weak. It was not fair, she thought, that one man should wield so much power over her, particularly when he regarded her as an inferior being, a nonentity, something to be trampled on. And it was ironic that history should have appeared to have reversed itself. Prince Ahmed had married Alain’s mother after his first wife, Princess Izmay, had produced a series of daughters. But, within a year of Alain being born, she had borne him a son, Hassan, thus ensuring the line of succession. Now Alain’s brother had succeeded in marrying before him, and the son Ashley had had was heir to Prince Ahmed.
In the entrance hall she paused, looking about her almost with a sense of bereavement. This school had come to mean a lot to her. She knew many of the boys, as they had passed through her form on their way to the middle school. She was popular with them, and being young herself could understand their problems better than some of the older masters. She and the biology mistress were the only female tutors on the staff, and she had begun to regard it less like a job and more like a vocation. She had never thought of marrying again, and these boys had become her family. Brought up by an elderly aunt, without either brothers or sisters of her own, she had welcomed their friendship and their confidences, and she dreaded the thought of beginning again with strangers.
The doorbell rang behind her, and she turned automatically, going to open it without hesitation. She guessed it might be the launderers or the caterers, or even the firm of contractors who had been redecorating the dormitories, and making minor repairs, and she flung the door wide, glad of the diversion. But the man and the boy who stood outside the door were not tradespeople at all, and Ashley’s jaw sagged in horror as she perceived their identity.
The man, too, looked taken aback at her appearance, but with the assurance that came from his position he recovered more quickly, hiding his real feelings behind a mask of courtesy. As she struggled to evade the encroaching wave of blackness that threatened to engulf her, he gathered his composure and assumed a polite expression, and she was left to gaze at the boy, as if she was afraid he might disappear in a cloud of smoke.
She couldn’t believe it. After all these years, she simply couldn’t believe it, and her knees shook abominably as she hung desperately on to the door handle. The amazing thing was, he СКАЧАТЬ