Follow Thy Desire. Anne Mather

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СКАЧАТЬ as time went by, and Helen guessed the old man regretted that his only son should have chosen to live so far away from his family. Yet his marriage to Barry’s mother had produced a daughter, and Barry and Susan were as close as any brother and sister. She was also to be one of Helen’s bridesmaids, although Helen herself found the younger girl rather silly and spoilt.

      Rising from the padded bench that faced the mirror, Helen considered her reflection with critical eyes. Shoulder-length hair, the colour of maple syrup, framed a face which what it lacked in beauty more than made up for in warmth and vivacity. Wide brown eyes, unusual with her colour of hair, high cheekbones, and a full-lipped generous mouth, she attracted attention wherever she went, and while she wasn’t conceited, she was aware that men found her attractive. She was quite tall and slim, although not excessively so, and her work in therapy had taught her the art of listening to what people were saying and giving them her full attention, which was in itself an attractive trait. So many girls were too busy or too full of their own importance to pay attention to what other people were saying, particularly older people, but Helen always showed interest and maybe that was why Barry’s father had confided his anxiety about his son to her.

      Wrapping the long cream velvet skirt about her waist, she recalled what he had told her the previous week. Mr Fox had written to Morgan, inviting him and his wife and daughter to the wedding, telling him that they were welcome to stay with the family. Morgan’s reply had been less than reassuring. He would be coming to England for the wedding, he said, but his marriage had broken up and his daughter, fifteen-year-old Andrea, preferred to stay at their home in Nrubi and therefore would not be accompanying him.

      Now, as Helen tied the cords of the cream figured jerkin that matched her evening skirt, she felt a pang of sympathy for the man who had always treated Barry like his own son. Still, Morgan had arrived home early this morning, and when Barry telephoned her later, inviting her round for dinner that evening, he had not sounded too concerned about his stepfather.

      ‘I can’t promise you the fatted calf,’ he had teased his fiancée, ‘but Mum and Mrs Parsons have been in the kitchen since nine o’clock, and I’m pretty sure it will be something special.’

      Helen had laughed and said she was looking forward to meeting his brother, but she couldn’t help wishing Morgan Fox had not brought his troubles to blight this week which should have been such a happy one for all of them.

      Her bedroom door opened as she was adding a touch of perfume to her wrists, and her younger sister, Jennifer, stood regarding her admiringly. Jennifer was just fourteen, but she was tall, as tall as Helen, in fact, and although Susan Fox was three years older they were much of a size. Jennifer was the fourth bridesmaid, and as it was her first opportunity to attend at a wedding, she was more excited about the ceremony than Helen herself.

      ‘Barry’s here,’ she said now, hands tucked into the waistband of the jeans she invariably wore. ‘Are you ready?’

      Helen nodded. ‘I think so. Do I look all right?’

      Jennifer pulled a critical face. ‘I guess so. That’s new, isn’t it? Honestly, you’ve got more clothes than anyone I know!’

      Helen gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘When you start earning some money,’ she replied, ‘you’ll be able to buy your own clothes, too. And besides, this is part of my trousseau.’

      ‘So why are you wearing it tonight?’

      Helen sighed. ‘I don’t see what it has to do with you, but as I’m meeting Barry’s brother for the first time, I wanted to look—decent.’

      Jennifer grimaced. ‘Decent!’ she echoed. ‘You always look decent, and you know it. What is it with this brother of Barry’s? Why should you want to impress him?’

      ‘It’s not a question of impressing him,’ exclaimed Helen tersely. ‘Anyway, you should mind your own business.’

      ‘Why? He’s nobody. He’s old, isn’t he? Barry’s twenty-four, and he said he was at least twelve years older than him.’

      Helen raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh? So you’ve been talking to Barry about him, too, have you?’

      Jennifer coloured then. ‘I only asked. I was curious, that’s all. Barry said I could go round and meet him tomorrow, if I liked.’

      ‘That won’t be necessary.’ Helen was beginning to feel impatient now. ‘Mum and Dad are inviting him to dinner on Tuesday. You can meet him then.’

      ‘Barry says he has a daughter about the same age as me, but she’s not coming to the wedding. He said that he and his wife have split up.’

      ‘Barry seems to have said an awful lot,’ declared Helen, picking up her fur jacket and slinging it about her shoulders, not quite knowing why that knowledge irritated her so, and Jennifer made another face before flouncing off downstairs ahead of her.

      Barry was waiting with her parents in the lounge. He was a tall, good-looking young man, with dark curly hair and blue eyes. After passing his exams he had got a good job in the Borough Surveyor’s department, and he and Helen were to live in a furnished flat in York until they could afford to buy a house of their own. Helen was to go on working for the time being, and as she was only twenty-one, there would be plenty of time for having children later. She had known Barry for years, they had attended the same grammar school, but it was not until about a year ago that she had actually consented to go out with him.

      Now he came to greet her warmly, bending his head to bestow an affectionate kiss on her lips. ‘You look great!’ he murmured, and then moved aside to allow her parents to look at her.

      ‘Are you sure that skirt won’t get marked?’ asked Mrs Raynor anxiously. ‘It would be a shame if you spoiled it before you went away.’

      Their honeymoon was booked in Majorca, and they all hoped the weather would be warmer there than it was in England at present.

      ‘It is washable,’ said Helen tolerantly, and her father from his stance before the hearth added: ‘Take no notice of her, love. You look beautiful, doesn’t she, Barry? All in cream like that. Could be a wedding gown!’

      ‘Oh, don’t say that!’ exclaimed Mrs Raynor, shaking her head. ‘Don’t you know it’s unlucky for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress before they’re in church!’

      ‘But she’s not wearing her wedding dress, is she?’ demanded her husband irritably. ‘I only said—–’

      ‘I know what you said,’ Mrs Raynor interrupted him, and sensing an argument, Helen took Barry’s arm and drew him towards the door.

      ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s leave them to it. I’m hungry if you’re not.’

      Outside, Barry’s sleek Triumph sat smugly on the drive of the Raynors’ semi. He helped Helen into the front seat, and then walked round the bonnet to climb in beside her, flashing her another smiling look of possession as he stretched for the ignition.

      ‘Dinner’s not until eight,’ he said, reversing carefully into the road. ‘Morgan’s slept most of the day, so Mum’s put the meal back an hour.’

      Helen nodded. ‘I expect he was very tired. It’s a long journey.’

      ‘Yes.’ Barry frowned. ‘I’m surprised he came, actually, as Andrea wasn’t coming and Pamela’s left him.’

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