Green Lightning. Anne Mather

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      ‘I’m surprised one of your father’s friends couldn’t offer you a job,’ put in Helen staunchly, determined not to be ignored completely. ‘I mean, that’s what friends are for, isn’t it? To help you when you’re desperate.’

      Angela’s lips thinned. ‘I wasn’t—desperate exactly, Helen. As—as a matter of fact, there were several positions offered to me. But it was finding the right job that mattered.’ She exchanged a knowing smile with Heath. ‘You understand, don’t you, Mr Heathcliffe? A girl of my upbringing—well, it was important for me to find an occupation I could feel comfortable in.’

      Heath nodded. ‘I appreciate that.’

      ‘What you’re saying is, you wouldn’t have scrubbed floors, or manned the check-out at a supermarket,’ Helen persisted annoyingly, and she saw Angela’s nails digging into her palms as she endeavoured to answer her civilly.

      ‘There was no question of that,’ she declared, casting another tolerant look in Heath’s direction, but having got her enemy retreating, Helen was in no mood to let her go.

      ‘I don’t see what else you could have done,’ she observed reasonably, folding her hands demurely in her lip. ‘I mean, you did say you had no qualifications—–’

      ‘That will do, Helen.’ Heath’s abrupt remonstration brought her brief bid for superiority to an end. ‘I’m sure you know perfectly well what Miss Patterson is talking about—–’

      ‘Oh—Angela, please!’

      ‘Very well, then, Angela. I’m sure you understand what Angela is trying to say, Helen. And while we’re on the subject, let me say I expect you to treat our guest with rather more courtesy than you’ve shown this far. I’ve apologised for your arriving to meet her in the Land Rover, and Angela’s prepared to forgive and forget. So am I, providing we don’t have any further demonstrations of that kind—do I make myself clear?’

      ‘Perfectly,’ exclaimed Helen tautly, her face burning with hot colour. ‘And now, as you evidently don’t need my presence to discuss my shortcomings, perhaps you’ll allow me to go to bed. I’m feeling rather tired.’

      Heath’s mouth tightened. ‘Helen—–’ he said warningly, but she had thrust back her chair and was facing him with grim defiance. ‘Oh, all right,’ he muttered, lifting his expensively-groomed shoulders. ‘Go to bed. I’ll talk to you again in the morning.’

      It was an effort to bid goodnight to Angela Patterson, but Helen managed it, leaving the room with her head held high, as much to hold back the tears as to demonstrate her independence. It had been a disaster. The day had been a disaster. And she was very much afraid that tomorrow and all the days after were not going to be that much better.