Storm In A Rain Barrel. Anne Mather

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СКАЧАТЬ Henry Farriday! His ideas could never be mine!’

      Domine shook her head, still slightly bewildered. ‘I wonder why he never told me that you were his son,’ she murmured incredulously. ‘We—we even went to see a play of yours once, in Brighton.’ She bit her lip, and James Mannering gave an exaggerated sigh.

      ‘Like I said,’ he murmured, ‘we had nothing in common.’

      Just at that moment Graham arrived to announce that dinner was served, and they walked across the lounge and through to a small dining-room with a circular polished table, and chairs upholstered in buttoned brown leather. A low light hung over the table, and illuminated the crystal glasses and sparkling silver cutlery. Domine wondered what her great-uncle’s feelings had been when he discovered that his son was achieving success. Had he been pleased? Or had the knowledge soured him? The latter, from the course of his attitude in later life, seemed the most likely. Although she had been grateful to him for all he had done for her, she began to wonder what his motives had been for helping her, if indeed he had had any. Was it possible that his reasons for involving himself in her life had been anything to do with his own disappointment in not being able to acknowledge James Mannering, the playwright, as his son, as his own flesh and blood, without causing a great deal of talk and speculation, and possibly even scandal in a place like Hollingford, which she had learned from reference books and maps was not a large place? If that was so, he must have been sadly disappointed that he had died before discovering whether she was to make anything of her life. Even so, he had still kept his son in the forefront of his mind, and it was to him that he had endowed his heritage.

       CHAPTER TWO

      LATER that night, as Domine lay between the sheets of the most opulent bed she had ever slept in, she reviewed the events of the day in detail. It had been such a strange day, and yet she could not now admit wholly to a feeling of unhappiness. Indeed, there was a disturbing sense of excitement running through her veins, a feeling she had never before experienced, and which was preventing her from falling into the dreamless sleep she usually achieved.

      She thought about the girls at the convent, wondering whether they were thinking about her. Susan would be. Susan had seemed intensely interested in her new situation—and her new guardian.

      She rolled on to her stomach as she thought about James Mannering. She had not known many men in the course of her young life, and certainly no one even vaguely resembling him. He was hard, and she suspected he could be ruthless when it came to getting what he wanted, and yet she thought he was kind. There had been a trace of gentleness in his manner with her, and she had appreciated that.

      During dinner he had questioned her extensively about herself, discovering every aspect of her life at the convent, and her subsequent holidays with Henry Farriday. She smiled as she thought that despite his assertions to the contrary he was very like his father in his single-mindedness and purposefulness. Great-Uncle Henry had asked a lot of questions, too. He had always been interested in her accomplishments and it was partially due to his encouragement that she had done so well at school.

      After dinner was over, James Mannering had excused himself, leaving her to Graham’s care. He had a business appointment, or so he said, and she had not liked to question Graham about his employer’s movements. Even so, she had been disappointed when he had not returned by ten o’clock, and Graham had suggested she retire for the night. As she had not then discovered the layout of the apartment, Graham had shown her round, and she had been suitably impressed by the large rooms with their fine appointments. It was a huge place, with four bedrooms with adjoining bathrooms, as well as the lounge, dining-room and kitchen, and a compact study where Mannering worked at his typewriter. Graham occupied a self-contained bed-sitting room which adjoined the kitchen, and which had its own entrance from the corridor outside.

      Domine’s own room was decorated in pastel shades of blue and green, with gold curtains and bedspread, and a bathroom with taps of beaten gold. There was a shower, too, and as she had never taken a shower in her life before she used it before getting into bed. Her cotton pyjamas seemed rather utilitarian beside the cream silk sheets, but she merely shrugged and turned out the light, glad of the anonymous darkness.

      Up here, high above London, there was no sound of traffic, no intruding sense of the outside world, and she thought rather sleepily that it must be something like the cabin of a jet-liner.

      It must be awfully late, she thought suddenly, when there was a slight sound outside her door, and she realized someone had entered the apartment. Leaning over, she switched on the bedside lamp and looked at her watch before hastily switching the lamp off again. It was after two o’clock! She lay back on her pillows staring up at the ceiling. It was very late for anyone to be conducting a business appointment, she thought reluctantly. Obviously, that had only been an excuse to escape from her presence for a while. Perhaps he had a girl-friend, some special woman he was hoping to marry. She frowned. Somehow, since meeting him, since having him take the time to come and collect her from the convent, she had begun to think of him in rather the manner she had thought of Great-Uncle Henry. Almost as though she was important to him, just as he was important to her. How silly she was to imagine that a man like James Mannering, rich, famous, powerful, and physically attractive should consider her anything more than a child he was temporarily responsible for, and who must indeed be nothing but a nuisance to him. Indeed, hadn’t he said earlier in the evening that she was just that?

      With a grimace, Domine punched her soft pillow into shape and flung herself down upon it, wondering why the excitement she had felt earlier had somehow dissipated.

      When she awoke, a faint filtering of light was trying to pierce its way into the room through the slats in the venetian blinds, but it was a dismal light, and from the steady beating against the windows she gathered it was still raining.

      Sighing, she slid out of bed and padded to the window, pushing the slats of the blind apart and peering out. It was a grey morning, the sky still heavy and overcast, and as it was only late October she thought it was going to be a long winter if this was anything to go by. She shivered, but not with cold, the apartment was already warm and comfortable, but the apprehension she had felt the previous day had returned, and she wondered whether her opinion of James Mannering would undergo any changes today.

      She glanced at her watch, and gasped. It couldn’t possibly be after eleven o’clock! She stared at the tiny pointers aghast. Good heavens, what would James Mannering think of her, sleeping till this hour? At the convent she would already have been up four hours!

      She hastily entered her bathroom, sluiced her face and hands, cleaned her teeth, and with unsteady fingers unplaited her hair. Brushing it vigorously, she quickly re-plaited it again, and then went and dressed again in the uniform outfit she had worn the previous day. When she emerged from her bedroom, the lounge was deserted, and she looked about her doubtfully, wondering what she ought to do to attract attention to herself.

      However, she was saved this anxiety, by the arrival of Graham. He was carrying a vacuum cleaner and looked rather disturbed when he saw Domine.

      ‘Good morning, Miss Grainger,’ he said, with a smile. ‘I’m sorry—did the vacuum wake you up?’

      Domine smiled rather tremulously in return. ‘I don’t think so, Mr. Graham. At any rate, if it did, I’m glad! It’s terribly late! What must Mr. Mannering think of me?’

      Graham shook his head. ‘First of all, my name’s Graham, just Graham, there’s no need for formalities,’ he said kindly. ‘As to the other—well, Mr. Mannering himself told me to let you sleep on. He said you would probably be tired. Overwrought, perhaps.’

      Domine СКАЧАТЬ