Midsummer Star. Бетти Нилс

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СКАЧАТЬ Mrs Seymour patted the sofa beside her and said: ‘Do sit down, my dear—you lead such a busy life, surely you can rest for a few minutes.’

      ‘I’m not tired,’ declared Celine, and meant it. She sat down, with a quick look at the clock; five minutes, ten at the most. She caught Oliver’s eye and coloured faintly; he saw so obviously exactly what she had been thinking. Indeed, she waited for him to make some remark, but he didn’t, just sat there, listening to Mrs Seymour talking about her husband’s illness. ‘Of course, everything is all right now Oliver’s here,’ she said quite happily. ‘He’s such a splendid doctor, and he and Dr Grady quite agree as to the treatment. And they say he’s responding to—to…’ She looked at her nephew, who said calmly, ‘Stimuli—pins and lights and so forth.’

      Mrs Seymour nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, that’s it. I was telling your mother, Celine, that just as soon as it’s safe to move my husband, we’ll do so. I feel very badly about you turning away other guests.’

      Celine said cheerfully: ‘Oh, it’s not quite the tourist season yet, you know, we didn’t expect to be full for another few weeks.’ She paused in thought. ‘And now Oliver’s here too, we might be able to have one or two drives round the country.’

      ‘Now he’s here,’ said Nick suddenly, ‘I’m going to take some time off myself—it’s not been much of a holiday so far.’

      His mother looked at him doubtfully. She doted on him, but even she must have realised that he had contributed very little to ease a difficult situation, but his cousin answered readily enough. ‘Why not? I’m at everyone’s service.’

      ‘Well, I hope this lovely weather holds for you,’ said Celine, and got up. Oliver got up too and went to open the door for her. She thanked him coolly, not looking at him. He hadn’t said anything at all, but somehow he had made poor Nick look—well, uncaring. And he wasn’t that, after all, he had come on this holiday with his parents when he might have gone off somewhere exciting on his own. She was so very glad that he hadn’t.

      She ate her own dinner in a rosy haze of vague dreams, so that her mother had to tell her twice that Dr Seymour had paid the bill and had had a chat with her father too. ‘Such a nice man,’ said Mrs Baylis with the faintest of question marks in her voice, ‘don’t you think so, dear?’

      Celine muttered something, and her father, who hadn’t been listening said: ‘He’s an Oxford man, I thought he might be. Took his degrees at Edinburgh, been to Vienna too—quite a good man, I should suppose. A different kettle of fish from that cousin of his.’

      ‘Nick is a very nice person,’ said Celine quite fiercely for her, and got up to change the plates and so missed the warning glance her mother shot across the table at her father. When she sat down again her mother said: ‘Now we’ve got some money I wondered if you’d take the car tomorrow and go down to Dorchester market. I’ll tidy the rooms and make the beds if you could manage to clear the tables after breakfast—you could be back for lunch. If we had something cold—I’ll make a salad…’

      It would be nice to have an hour or two away from the house, although she would be away from Nicky too…’Shall we make a list before we go to bed? Dr Seymour seems to think his uncle may be fit to move by ambulance in a week, perhaps less and we want to be ready for the next lot.’

      ‘Where do they live?’ asked Celine, and tried not to sound eager. It was something Nick hadn’t told her and she hadn’t asked.

      ‘Oh, Harrow, or is it Highgate? I believe Dr Seymour lives in London too, but I’m not sure where.’

      He could live on the top of Mount Everest for all Celine cared. She didn’t like him, she told herself as she helped Angela clear away for the night, and at the same time was aware that this wasn’t quite true. He had done nothing deliberately unkind, he hadn’t been boastful, he had been friendly and polite, and if it hadn’t been for Nicky telling her what a tiresome man he was, she might even have liked him. She finished in the kitchen, said goodnight to Angela and Barney and crossed the hall to the sitting-room to say goodnight to her parents. Nicky came out of the drawing-room at the same time, and they met halfway, and stopped.

      He put an arm round her and smiled so that her heart turned over.

      ‘I was hoping I’d see you. Any chance of coming for a drive tomorrow?’

      ‘I’m going to Dorchester market directly after breakfast, and I have to be back for lunch.’ Her soft mouth curved into a smile.

      ‘Heaven sent! I’ll drive you in my car. We can’t make it the whole day, I suppose?’

      Celine shook her head. ‘Impossible—it really is. But it would be lovely.’ Her eyes shone and he put the other arm round her.

      ‘You beautiful girl,’ he said softly, and then stiffened and let his arms drop as someone, not too far away, started whistling. It could only be Oliver. It was, sauntering down the stairs with his hands in his pockets. He nodded casually at them as he crossed the hall and went out into the garden, but the magic moment had passed. Celine said in a brittle voice: ‘I shall be leaving about nine o’clock.’

      ‘I’ll be waiting.’ Nicky took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, but that was all. Any moment Oliver might appear again—like the genie in a pantomime, she thought peevishly.

      She was up very early and had breakfasted long before anyone came into the dining-room. She served the meal, saw to Nurse Stevens’ wants, cleared the table, fetched her shopping list and was on the doorstep by nine o’clock. Nicky was there waiting in the car, and there was, thank heaven, no sign of his cousin. Celine got in beside him with a thrill of excitement, a little dampened by his careless: ‘We don’t need to shop, do we? Can’t you ring up for whatever you need when we get back? It’s such a glorious day, we could go for a run—have a picnic…’

      ‘Oh, but I can’t, honestly. Angela wants most of the things today—the village shop doesn’t have a great deal, you know. Besides, I must be back before lunch—there’s no one else to serve it.’

      ‘What about that butler of yours? Or your mother?’ Nicky spoke carelessly.

      ‘Barney’s got heaps of jobs to do—not just being a butler—he’s the handyman too and he does the vegetables and does quite a lot of housework when no one is about. And mother wouldn’t know where to start.’ She added, suddenly fierce: ‘Why should she? She’s never been used to it, and it was my idea in the first place.’

      He patted her knee. ‘OK., don’t get so worked up! It was only a suggestion. But remember, when you do get a few hours to yourself keep them for me.’

      He was an amusing companion, and it was impossible to be vexed by him for more than a few moments. The drive to Dorchester was a delight for her, and when they had parked the car, he took her to Napper’s Mite for coffee, and they walked through the crowded market while Celine bought fruit and meat, and, that done, led him into the town to Parson’s grocer’s shop to buy the special tea and coffee that her mother had had for years. It all took rather longer than she had bargained for, and she mentioned this as they got back into the car, to be made sorry for doing so presently, for Nick drove back much too fast, so that by the time they arrived she was on edge with suppressed nerves. All the same, she thanked him with warmth, refused with regret his offer of another drive that afternoon, and went off to the kitchen to give Angela a hand with the lunch.

      The doctor had been, Angela told her as they stood side by side at the vast kitchen table, Celine making a salad, СКАЧАТЬ