Melting Fire. Anne Mather

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СКАЧАТЬ you’re back, and for good. There’s plenty for you to do here, and I’ve no doubt the telephone will start ringing just as soon as your friends hear that you’re home.’

      ‘Oh, but …’ Olivia caught her lower lip between her teeth, and then released it again. ‘I can’t stay here for ever, Bella. I mean—sooner or later I’m bound to go away, aren’t I? And if I took a job, or got married——’

      ‘Married!’ Bella sounded horrified. ‘And who are you going to marry, may I ask?’ Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Are you keeping something from me? Is there something I should know about? You’ve not met some young man you’re not telling me about, have you?’

      ‘Oh, no. No!’

      Olivia rose abruptly to her feet, unable to sit still beneath Bella’s penetrating appraisal. She walked quickly across to the french doors, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her dress and staring out broodingly on to the manicured green lawns beyond the terrace. She couldn’t confide in Bella yet, she decided uneasily. She needed time, time to adjust to her new freedom, to the possibilities that now faced her. When the time was right, she would tell her about Jules, but until then …

      ‘Aren’t the rhododendrons beautiful?’

      Bella’s voice at her elbow startled her, but she managed to answer casually enough. The huge banks of flowering shrubs were a splendid sight, and the scents of a dozen different species of plant-life filled the air with their perfume. Copley was beautiful, there was no denying it, and she would miss all this when she had to leave. But it was what Richard expected of her, and besides, she was almost a woman. She needed more than the sanctuary of Copley could give her.

       CHAPTER TWO

      OLIVIA ran the shower cold, and was shivering when she emerged from the cubicle. Clutching a huge yellow bath-sheet about her, she padded into the bedroom, her bare feet making damp patches on the soft white carpet. Standing before the long wardrobe mirror, she towelled herself dry vigorously, and then allowed the folds of towelling to fall about her ankles.

      The reflection facing her was of a girl of nineteen or so, with a wealth of curly red-gold hair tumbling about her shoulders. Her breasts were firm and well-developed, and her waist was small, and long shapely legs drew attention to narrow ankles. An appealing combination, no doubt, but Olivia was not impressed by her attributes. She had viewed them too many times to feel any sense of accomplishment in her appearance, and her greatest concern at the moment was how best to explain to Bella—and Richard—that she wanted to get a job. She hadn’t yet decided what kind of job she wanted. Office work of some kind, she supposed, or maybe as she was good at languages, she could get a job as an interpreter. But where? Not in Chelmsbury, she realised. London was the only likely place, which would mean either travelling the forty or so miles every day to the city, or getting accommodation in town.

      She sighed, turning away to rummage through her dressing table drawers for clean underwear. Richard travelled every day, when he was at home. He drove to Chelmsbury, and caught the early morning commuter train into the city. So long as he was at home, she might travel with him. He did keep an apartment in town, but it was for entertainment purposes mostly, and almost every evening when he was at home he returned to Copley. But when he was away …

      Frowning, she stepped into bikini briefs, and followed them with a pair of cream-coloured Levis. Then she knotted a sleeveless shirt beneath her breasts, and began to pull her hairbrush through the tangled weight of hair. It was much too long, she thought, tugging viciously at a recalcitrant strand, and she would certainly have it cut before she took up any employment. Why couldn’t it have been straight, like Richard’s hair? she wondered impatiently, and flung the brush down in disgust as it refused to respond to such rough treatment.

      A tentative knock at her bedroom door dissipated her annoyance, and she called: ‘Who is it?’ smiling affectionately when Bella’s grey head appeared.

      ‘Oh, you are up,’ she said, coming right into the room. ‘I sent Eliza up with your breakfast, just in case you wanted to spend the morning in bed.’

      ‘On a day like this!’ Olivia indicated the cloudless sky beyond her open windows. ‘I can’t wait to get outside. I intend to get really brown before——’

      She broke off abruptly, half expecting Bella to take her up on it, but the older woman was busy straightening the pale green undersheet on the bed, plumping the lace-edged pillows.

      ‘I’m going to cycle into West Cross this morning,’ Bella declared, straightening with Olivia’s striped cotton nightshirt in her hands. ‘I promised Mrs Morrison I’d call and see old Mr Raynor. He hasn’t been at all well lately, and I thought I’d take him some of my home-made strawberry jam. I want to call at the church anyway with some flowers, so I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone, as they say. Do you want to come?’

      Olivia hesitated. Mrs Morrison was the vicar’s wife, and although she was good-hearted enough, she was a terrible gossip. She would welcome Olivia’s return as a new source of conversation, and it was too nice a day to waste in idle chatter.

      ‘I don’t think so,’ she answered now, sorry she had to disappoint Bella. ‘I thought I might sunbathe. Can I use the pool?’

      ‘Considering Richard left orders for Thomas to clean it out specially before he went away, I think perhaps you might,’ retorted Bella shortly, and Olivia flushed.

      ‘That was kind of him,’ she offered awkwardly, and Bella sniffed.

      ‘Yes—well, people try to be kind to you,’ she averred, picking up Olivia’s used breakfast tray and marching towards the door. ‘They may not understand these newfangled ideas you have about independence, though,’ she added, and left the room.

      Olivia watched her go with troubled eyes. She knew Bella was referring to the conversation they had had over the dinner table the previous evening. Olivia had tried, not very successfully, to persuade her old nursemaid that she couldn’t remain a drain on Richard’s resources any longer, but Bella had been obstinately stubborn. If Olivia was a drain, then what was she? she insisted, deliberately ignoring the fact that she had a job running the household, supplementing her argument with the opinion that to a man of Richard’s means, the support of his stepsister was not only his duty, but his pleasure. Olivia’s protest that Richard’s means had nothing to do with it met with blank indifference, and Bella had retired to bed soon afterwards, complaining of a severe headache.

      Now Olivia left her bedroom and walked slowly along the hall to the landing. Her room was at the back of the house, overlooking the tennis courts and the stables beyond, and as she passed Richard’s door she felt her lips tighten. She guessed that he would share Bella’s opinion, and it was frustrating to realise that their feelings were justified.

      On impulse she stopped, and opening Richard’s door she entered his bedroom. This was the master bedroom of the house, and overlooked the courtyard at the front of the building. Because it was occupied solely by a man, it was sombrely furnished in shades of brown and gold, but the drift of apricot silk at the windows provided a vivid splash of colour. Bella had already been into this room, Olivia guessed, noticing the open sashes, and the coolness that came from the shadow of the north side of the house. Later in the day, the room would be bathed in the afternoon rays of the sun, but presently it was chilly.

      Olivia sauntered lazily round the square fourposter bed, which Richard had bought along with the house, and picked up the framed portrait of herself standing on his СКАЧАТЬ