Polly. Бетти Нилс
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Название: Polly

Автор: Бетти Нилс

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Зарубежные любовные романы

Серия:

isbn: 9781408982662

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ halfway up. Diana took the left-hand wing and went down a narrow passage at its head. ‘You’re here—nice and quiet. There’s a bathroom next door.’ She flung open a white-painted door and stood aside for Polly to go in. The room was of a comfortable size, furnished prettily in mahogany and chintz, its narrow windows with ruffled muslin curtains. The bathroom leading from it was small but perfect. Polly, eyeing its luxurious fittings said carefully: ‘This is charming—I didn’t think…that is, I expected…’

      Diana gave her a wide smile. ‘You’ve no idea how glad I am to have you here. Sam’s away all day most days and it’s a bit lonely. But I’ll be getting married soon…I’m only staying here because Bob, my fiancée, doesn’t like me to be living on my own while he’s away.’

      ‘I do have to work all day,’ said Polly doubtfully. ‘Professor Gervis wants the book finished just as soon as I can get it typed.’

      ‘You must be awfully clever. I never got further than “Amo, amas, amat” at school. Sam says your knowledge of the dead languages is extraordinary.’ Diana giggled engagingly. ‘He said it was an awful waste!’

      Polly smiled back at her companion. So it was a waste, was it? But a waste he was quite prepared to put to his own use. ‘I’ll unpack, shall I? Then perhaps the Professor will show me where I’m to work and I can get everything ready to start in the morning.’

      ‘OK. You are keen, aren’t you? Have you got a job? I mean, something else to do besides typing this book?’

      Polly shook her head. ‘No, but I think I’ll look for something when I go home again.’

      She thought about that while she unpacked. There wasn’t much that she could do. She couldn’t bear the thought of teaching, she didn’t know enough about clothes and fashion to work in a shop, her arithmetic was poor, so an office job or something in a bank was out. She decided not to worry about it for the moment, arranged her few possessions around the room, and went downstairs.

      The Professor was standing at the open front door, his hands in his pockets. Even from his back he looked very impatient.

      ‘I’ll show you where you can work,’ he told Polly without preamble. ‘Jeff has taken everything there and you can start when you like. I shall be out this evening, but you’ll dine with Diana at eight o’clock. Perhaps you’ll keep office hours while you’re here. I’m away for most of the day; but if you’ll put whatever work you’ve done each day on the desk in my study I shall be glad.’

      They had gone to the back to the end of the hall and through a small door into a rather bare little room, furnished with a desk and a chair, several filing cabinets and a row of shelves filled with books. There was a typewriter on the desk and the manuscript and paper were arranged beside it. Not a moment to be lost, thought Polly.

      ‘The household accounts and so on are dealt with here,’ he told her briefly, ‘but no one will disturb you while you’re working.’ He nodded briskly. ‘I shall see you tomorrow evening if not before.’

      Polly blinked her preposterous eyelashes at him. ‘You’d like me to start now?’ she asked, so meekly that he turned to look at her.

      ‘Why not? You’re paid for that, aren’t you?’

      The answer to that piece of rudeness scorched her tongue, but she managed not to give it, instead she went to the desk and started to arrange it to her liking. He watched her in silence until she had put paper in the typewriter and sat down to cast an eye over the manuscript. She was typing the first line when he went away.

      ‘Arrogant idler!’ declared Polly loudly to the closed door, and gave a squeak of dismay as it opened and the Professor put his handsome head round it.

      ‘I shall be driving down to Wells Court at the weekend,’ he told her, poker-faced. ‘If you can bear with my company, I’ll give you a lift.’

      He had gone again before she could say a word, and she started to type. He couldn’t have heard her, or he would have had something to say about it.

      She worked without pause until Jeff came to tell her that dinner would be in half an hour, and would she join Miss Diana in the drawing room. ‘And I was to tell you, miss, not to mind and change your dress, because there’ll be no one but yourself and Miss Diana.’

      So Polly went to her room and tidied herself, then went downstairs where she found Diana curled up on one of the sofas, surrounded by glossy magazines. She looked up as Polly went in and told her to get herself a drink from the side table, then come and help her choose something to wear. ‘A christening,’ she explained, ‘and Sam and I will have to go; we’re vaguely related to the baby, and Sam’s a great one for family ties and all that kind of thing.’ She handed Polly Harpers & Queen. ‘That grey outfit’s rather nice, isn’t it? I’ll have to have a hat, of course…I don’t want to spend too much…’

      A remark which struck Polly dumb, since the outfit concerned was priced around five hundred pounds. Presently she managed a polite: ‘It looks charming, and grey’s a useful colour.’

      ‘Useful?’ queried Diana, looking surprised. ‘Is it? Anyway, I’ll nip up to town and have a look at it, I think. I haven’t any money, so Sam will have to give me some. I haven’t a rag to my back.’

      Polly finished her sherry and ventured: ‘I expect you go out quite a lot.’

      ‘Oh, lord, yes. It gets boring, some of the dinner parties are so stuffy, and Deirdre—that’s Sam’s fianceé—has the most tiresome parents. She’s tiresome too. I can’t think how Sam can put up with her.’

      ‘He doesn’t have to,’ observed Polly, ‘but I expect if he loves her he doesn’t notice.’

      ‘Of course he doesn’t love her—they sort of slid into it, if you know what I mean, and I suppose he thinks she’ll change when they are married. She’s very suitable, of course, and they make a handsome pair.’ Diana bounced off the sofa. ‘Let’s have dinner—I’m starving!’

      Polly, accustomed to cottage pie and fruit tart eaten in the bosom of her rather noisy family, thought dinner was quite something. The dining room for a start was a dignified apartment, with a large oval table in its centre, straight-backed chairs with tapestry seats, and a vast sideboard. The meal itself, served on white damask with quantities of silver and cut glass, was mouthwatering, far better than the birthday dinners each member of the family enjoyed at one of the hotels in Pulchester. And since Diana had a good appetite, Polly, who was hungry, enjoyed every mouthful of it.

      They went back to the drawing-room afterwards to have their coffee, and Diana plunged into the serious matter of clothes once more, until Polly said regretfully: ‘The Professor wants the work I’ve done to be put on his desk each evening; I’d better do that, if you’d tell me which room…?’

      ‘Just across the hall, the middle door. Do you really have to go? I’ll see you at breakfast, then. Let Bessy know if you want anything.’ Diana beamed at Polly. ‘Goodnight—it is nice having company, you know.’

      Polly said goodnight and then remembered to ask at what time she should come down to breakfast. ‘Or do I have it somewhere else?’

      ‘Whatever for? Oh, I see, you start work early, I suppose. I don’t get down before nine o’clock. Could you start work and have it with me then? What time do you want to get up? I’ll tell someone to call you.’

      Polly СКАЧАТЬ