Women Have Hearts. Barbara Cartland

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Now, as she closed the wardrobe door, she thought of what she would buy if she could afford it. She was sure that blue and pale green would be becoming to her, as they had been to her mother.

      She had the same fair golden hair, the same large blue-grey eyes that were the colour of the morning mist and her skin was transparently clear, although she was pale and far too thin from overwork.

      She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and turned away from it.

      What was the point of pretending? She would wear grey and the years ahead would be grey too.

      If Yvette only knew it, she was very lucky to be able to escape to Senegal or anywhere else in the world.

      There were innumerable duties that kept Kelda busy until supper time.

      One of the jobs that had been thought up for her by Mrs. Gladwin was that she should wait on the Mistresses who had supper in their own rooms.

      They took it in turns to supervise the pupils in the large dining room where everybody had to eat at luncheontime.

      The Mistresses insisted that in the evening those who were not on duty should be served in their own sitting room, where they could add to the school fare delicacies that had been purchased either by themselves or sent to them by relatives.

      At first Mrs. Gladwin had resisted such an innovation. Then when she found that there were no reasonable arguments she could use against it, she assuaged her pride by saying that the servants were too busy, but that Kelda could wait on the Mistresses, bringing their meals in from the kitchen and washing up afterwards.

      Kelda had not really minded for as a result she often enjoyed titbits that the Mistresses left, which was a change from the school meals that were repeated in monotonous rotation from week to week with no variations.

      Tonight, when she entered the staff room. it was to find an animated conversation taking place.

      “I said to her,” Miss Dawson, one of the older Mistresses, was declaiming, “‘I have no intention, Madam, of spending my holiday by travelling to some outlandish part of the world. I dislike the sea and always have and I have no plans for ever leaving these shores again’.”

      There was a burst of laughter as Kelda put the heavy tray down on a side table.

      “What did she say to that?”

      “She merely dismissed me and sent for Miss Jenkins.”

      “Did you accept her proposition?” someone asked. “Tell us, Jenky. We are all ears.”

      “Of course I did not,” Miss Jenkins, who was the sporty Games Mistress, replied. “I am spending all my holiday with my fiancé at his home. I would not give that up for a trip to Heaven and back again!”

      Again there was laughter as Kelda ladled out the soup and set it down on the table in front of each of the Mistresses.

      “Who did she try next?” someone questioned.

      “I think she has been through the lot of us,” Miss Dawson said. “I know Ashton told me before she went out this evening that she had refused and I think Miss Hart has said ‘no’.”

      “Madam is so keen on pleasing this Nobleman,” Miss Jenkins said, “that I cannot think why she does not go herself or alternatively she could send Kelda.”

      Kelda started at the sound of her own name and they all laughed.

      “As a matter of fact,” Miss Jenkins said, “I actually did.”

      “You didn’t!” Miss Dawson exclaimed. “You must have been feeling cheeky. We all know what she thinks of Kelda.”

      “She was furious. That is why I said it,” Miss Jenkins laughed. “She knows we are all aware that Kelda is the only one in this place whom she can treat in that highhanded manner, as if she was the great Penjandrum himself. None of us would stick it.”

      “That is true,” Miss Jenkins said. “I have often wondered, Kelda, why you don’t leave.”

      Kelda was bringing the last bowl of soup to the table and she smiled.

      “The answer to that is simple,” she said. “It is because I have nowhere else to go.”

      “And no money either, I suppose,” Miss Jenkins sniggered.

      “I have not been paid for six months,” Kelda replied, “and if I was I doubt if it would get me further than Piccadilly Circus.”

      They all laughed as if she had said something very funny.

      “I think it’s a crying shame,” Miss Jenkins said. “But never mind perhaps one day a rich uncle you’ve forgotten about will turn up and carry you off to Timbuktu. One never knows one’s luck.”

      “I can always go on hoping,” Kelda answered.

      She picked up the tray and went out of the room. As she closed the door behind her, she heard Miss Dawson saying,

      “It’s a disgrace the way Madam treats that nice girl.”

      “That is what I think,” Miss Ashton said, “but there is nothing we can do about it and I suppose as a ‘charity child’ she is lucky to be here.”

      Kelda did not wait to hear any more. She hurried down towards the kitchen, feeling as if her feet echoed the same words,

      ‘Charity child! Charity child!’

      She felt as if they were branded on her and she would never be anything else however hard she tried. A ‘charity child’ everyone could trample over and for whom there was little hope now or in the future.

      *

      When she had finished washing up the Mistresses’ supper Kelda made a cup of cocoa and carried it upstairs to Yvette.

      It was strictly against the rules, but she thought that it might help the French girl to sleep, knowing that her unhappiness would doubtless keep her tossing and turning all through the night.

      She opened the door to find that Yvette was already undressed and sitting in front of the mirror with a sulky expression on her face.

      “I have brought you some cocoa,” Kelda said.

      “That is kind of you, Kelda,” Yvette tried to smile. “I could not eat any supper, I was too unhappy.”

      “Are you hungry? Shall I go downstairs and make you a sandwich?”

      “No, I don’t want anything to eat, but I will enjoy the cocoa. Did you put plenty of sugar in it?”

      “Three teaspoonfuls,” Kelda answered. “‘Hot and sweet’ was what my mother always prescribed when somebody has had a shock.”

      “It is certainly what I have had.”

      “What did Madam say to you?”

      “Only СКАЧАТЬ