Summer Of The Raven. Sara Craven

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СКАЧАТЬ sake, Rowan, there must be something you want to buy for yourself!’

      And there was, of course, though Rowan doubted whether the sturdy portable typewriter in its carrying case was exactly what the donor of the cheque had intended. She had expected a further tussle with Antonia too, but her stepmother seemed to have retreated into some private world of discontent, and would hardly have noticed, Rowan thought, if she had shaved her head and painted her skin with woad.

      Antonia offered no explanation for her glumness, but Rowan suspected the fact that they were travelling to Ravensmere without Carne Maitland’s personal escort might have something to do with it. The estate car they were travelling in was a new one, and had been bought for Antonia’s use, although she did not seem particularly impressed by the fact. Rowan guessed she would have preferred to travel in the sleek sports model she had glimpsed at the flat that first evening. She was thankful that they had been given something less powerful. Antonia was not a bad driver, but she was inclined to be reckless and impatient when conditions did not suit her, and Rowan grimaced inwardly as she contemplated what these latter stages of their journey could have been like.

      ‘Well, here’s Ravensmere at last,’ Antonia commented petulantly. ‘What a dead and alive hole! How much farther now, for heaven’s sake?’

      Rowan shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’

      She thought Ravensmere was an attractive village. It was very small—a few houses built of the inevitable slate, a pub with shuttered windows and creeper-hung walls, and a combined village store and post office—but it was clean and well kept and the cottage gardens burgeoned with spring flowers.

      Rowan leaned forward and stared around her. ‘Is your cousin’s house actually in the village?’ She felt a twinge of nervousness assail her at the knowledge that they had nearly arrived at their destination. The palms of her hands felt damp and she wiped them surreptitiously on her denim-clad thighs. She wished very much that she was safely back in London, and that she had ignored all Antonia’s pleas and arguments. Oh, why had she ever agreed to come all this way to take part in what amounted to little more than a charade? And at the same moment it occurred to her that she knew exactly why and she felt a sudden warmth invade her body that had nothing to do with the spring sunlight. Fool, she castigated herself silently.

      ‘The house is called Raven’s Crag,’ Antonia was saying impatiently. ‘Wind your window down and ask someone. It’s getting late and I don’t want to be driving around in these mountains once the sun has gone down.’

      There didn’t seem to be anyone about that they could ask, and eventually Antonia stopped outside the shop, and told Rowan brusquely to enquire there. ‘And get me some cigarettes while you’re about it,’ she added.

      The shop was small, but its proprietor had clearly decided not to let that stand in his way. Rowan thought she had never seen such a wide range of goods or so many different brand names. Every surface, every nook and cranny carried its full complement, and even the grille over the Post Office counter in the corner was plastered with posters and notices.

      There was a young girl wearing a white overall behind the counter, transferring toffee bars from a box on to a plastic display tray, and she smiled when she saw Rowan. ‘Yes, please?’

      In spite of the range, they didn’t have the exact brand of cigarettes that Antonia wanted, so Rowan bought the next best thing, knowing that she would be faced with more complaints when she returned to the car. Then she asked where Raven’s Crag was.

      There was open curiosity in the girl’s eyes as she studied Rowan. ‘You mean Mr Maitland’s house? You want to take the back road, and bear to the right. It’s a good climb, mind.’

      The shop bell tinkled behind Rowan as she closed the door and walked back to the car. Something made her turn and look over her shoulder and she saw that the girl was peering through the crowded window watching her go, and that an older woman had joined her.

      Rowan frowned slightly. It was true that Ravensmere was off the beaten tourist track, but surely the local inhabitants weren’t so unused to the sight of strangers? She had intended to mention it to Antonia as she got back into the car, but the fuss her stepmother kicked up over the cigarettes drove it out of her mind.

      ‘God, what a dump!’ Antonia stormed, putting the car in gear with a hideous screech. ‘It wouldn’t take much for me to turn right round and go back to London!’

      ‘Well, why don’t we?’ Rowan said quickly. ‘This is never going to work, Antonia, and you know it. You’ve never had to look after a house in your life. Someone else has always done it for you.’

      Antonia swung the car on to the back road with a frank disregard for its tyres. ‘No, my dear simpleton, we’re staying. My clever Cousin Carne may have the upper hand at the moment, but that won’t last for ever.’ She gave a small provocative smile. ‘From housekeeper to lady of the house isn’t that great a step.’

      ‘You intend to marry him?’ Rowan asked dazedly.

      Antonia shrugged. ‘I haven’t been able to work out yet whether he’s the marrying kind. But it makes very little difference these days. And there’s always been a—rapport between Carne and me. There are too many other distractions in London, but up here in the back of beyond he shouldn’t be too difficult to manipulate.’

      ‘I see,’ Rowan managed.

      Antonia shot her a sideways glance. ‘I hope you do, sweetie. I’m sure you’ll know when and how to be diplomatic, and I’m relying on you to keep Sybilla out of the way too.’

      The gradient was increasing sharply all the time, and there were frequent bends, so Antonia had to concentrate all her attention on her driving while Rowan sat silently beside her. So much, she told herself wryly, for being tempted into the realms of fantasy. From now on she would reserve her romantic dreams for her stories where they belonged.

      What had she been hoping for anyway? A scene like something from an old Hollywood film where Carne would have seen behind the façade of the skinny sixteen-year-old and murmured, ‘My God, but you’re beautiful?’ And even if he had done, what then? She might be three years older than he had been led to believe, but even so she was a lifetime behind him in experience and sophistication. When he wanted a woman, it was obvious that his choice would be someone like Antonia, voluptuous and more than capable of catering to all of a man’s needs. Well, not quite all. Rowan’s sense of the ridiculous came to her rescue. Antonia couldn’t keep house or cook, but what would that matter in the light of her other eminently desirable attributes? She had called herself a fool, but she was worse than a fool, she was pitiful. And here she was in a situation where she was going to be hurt—a situation entirely of her own making. She could have stood out against Antonia. After all, if her stepmother’s plans came to fruition she would be in no need of the allowance from the Winslow estate. And Rowan herself could have found a grant to support her through her degree course. Other students survived; she could have been one of them. And now she had burned her boats behind her, it seemed. Once this strange summer was over she would have to pick up the threads of her life and Start over again. It was a bleak prospect, and it was no comfort to realise that she had brought it all upon herself.

      ‘What a road!’ Antonia’s derisive comment focussed her attention on the immediate present. ‘It’s more like a track. And do you see that notice?’

      Rowan did indeed. It informed travellers quite unequivocally that the road was unsuitable for traffic in winter conditions.

      Antonia shuddered. ‘Thank God I intend СКАЧАТЬ