'I hope she's not feeling too ill?' Carol felt obliged to put in solicitously as they climbed.
'No, she's sitting up today,' Emily nodded a glance along a corridor leading off from the main landing, 'but her face is very swollen, and of course at her age she'll have to take it carefully for a while.'
They went into a room with green bedcovers and draperies and putting the dressing bag down inside, the sunny-faced woman revealed in confiding tones, 'Between you and me she wasn't too keen on the idea of going to Italy, so I don't think she minds this little bit of inconvenience.' With a wink she went to push the green drapes back busily. Then she opened the window a fraction to let in the air.
Feeling the woman's warmth and friendliness wash over her in the strange household, Carol put in conversationally, 'Your sister must be glad to have you on hand to look after her.'
'Me? Oh, I don't live in Lyndhurst.' Emily's jolly features crinkled wryly as though country life didn't appeal to her. 'I've come over from Poole. I run a little caf£ on the quay with my husband and two daughters.' She made a tour of the room flicking at this and that while she talked. 'Blanche is a widow with no family. And Mr Barrett had no one to look after him.' When she had cast a last look round she came up confidingly again to Carol. 'He's very nice, but it will be a relief when he's gone away.' She rolled her eyes at the awesome atmosphere of the house. 'This kind of thing isn't much in my line.'
They smiled together conspiratorially, then reminding herself of her temporary position, Emily asked practically, 'Now do you think you're going to be all right in here? I've picked you a room with a bathroom,' she nodded to an adjoining door, 'and there's a nice view out at the back.'
'Oh, I'm sure I shall,' Carol said gratefully. 'And thank you very much for looking after me.'
The pleasant-faced woman in her bright flowered smock turned to the door, looking back to say with another roll of her eyes, 'I've got to go down now and see about the meal.'
On her own, Carol gazed round the room. It was large and airy, though like downstairs its heavy furnishings were sombre and lacking in something to bring out their rich mellow look. The view from the big cur- tainless window was more rewarding. It showed grassy stretches rolling away to a boundary of leafy oak and chestnut trees.
She turned and pondered over her suitcase. There was no sense in unpacking because presumably she was only staying here for the night. An ache of excitement engulfed her when she thought that tomorrow she would be starting out for Italy. To try and curb it a little she made herself re-fold everything in her case, a little more neatly this time.
This done, she laid her nightgown out, then washed and freshened up in the bathroom. She could think of nothing to do after that to pass the time, but she was too afraid to step out of her room. Everything was so silent. She listened and moved about, slightly on edge. In the end she decided to take the plunge. After all, no one was going to eat her... she hoped.
It was just her luck to sidle out on to the landing at the precise moment that Gray Barrett chose to stride across the square of hall below her. Obviously engrossed with his thoughts as he came out of a downstairs room, his glance, for some reason, flickered upwards. Irritated at being mildly startled by the sight of the pale apparition standing on the stairs, he looked at his watch and barked, "We'll be dining in a moment. You'd better come down.'
Carol nodded obediently and whispered soft-footed down the stairs. The big figure had disappeared by the time she reached the chequered hallway. She had no idea where to go from here. There were rooms all around her and at the far end of the space a passageway led deeper into the house.
Was the dining room along there? she wondered with nervously thudding heart. She was too scared to go and find out. What if she was trespassing in some forbidden area of the house?
Surrounded by doors, wall furniture, dark pictures and china vases, she hung about uncertainly, sneaking a look into this room and that, without appearing to, for some sign of life. She was beginning to lose hope of eating at all tonight, when a voice from the doorway beside her made her jump almost out of her shoes, as Gray Barrett rasped, 'In here, Miss Lindley. Don't take all day. Mrs Potter's waiting to serve.'
Colouring foolishly, Carol turned and followed him inside. The d£cor of the room and furnishings were much the same as the rest of the house except that a long oval polished table, complete with several straight- backed chairs, stood facing a line of french windows in the centre of the room. A doorway at the end, apparently connecting with the rooms along the passageway which she had just caught a glimpse of, was open, and much to her relief, bustling through, a crisp white apron fronting her flowered smock, her round cheeks aglow with cooking, was the cheering sight of Emily.
Her infectious smile was discreetly tucked away behind a suitably wooden expression, but her gaze was not without a sly twinkle as she showed Carol to her place at the end of the table. Gray Barrett was already seated at the far end. Between them lay a sea of polished wood, table mats, and amongst the various silver dishes, a bowl of roses. As this was the first feminine touch she had seen since entering the gloomy house, Carol guessed that the gay centrepiece was Emily's idea.
The rounded little woman served a meal worthy of her role as temporary housekeeper, hurrying in and out with dishes which must have kept her busy for most of the afternoon. Anxious to please, though obviously nervous at the job, her hands trembled a little as she scooped up the vegetables and poured the wine.
Carol kept her gaze sympathetically averted, knowing all too well how she felt. Though the master of the house sat paying little attention to what went on beyond his plate, his mere presence was enough to put a strain on the atmosphere.
But at least Emily could escape when her duties were finished. When the last of the dishes were set out on the table, Carol was left, compelled to sit opposite that rather frightening figure, with no one to give her moral support. She couldn't imagine how she was going to get through the ordeal of eating.
The french windows were open. Luckily the light was fading from the sky so that the room was partly shrouded in shadow. They dined in silence. Carol sat erect in her chair, too afraid to relax, her long straight hair like a pale fringed shawl on her shoulders, her eyes beneath her lowered lashes, wide with tension.
She took a sip of the wine from her glass, finding it strange to her palate when she had been used to only tea or coffee. She noticed with a wave of dislike that Gray Barrett made no attempt to put her at her ease. Just because he was able to withdraw from the scene and retire into himself, he saw no reason why she couldn't do the same. Men were like that, she knew. She had seen her father adopt that shut-down expression when he wanted to be with his own thoughts.
The knowledge that the man opposite her hadn't the remotest idea of her existence didn't make the meal any less agonising for her. When Emily bustled in later with renewed confidence to clear away, Carol took advantage of her presence to make a hasty retreat. Only too glad to put the stairs between herself and the dining room, she fled to her room.
However, after hiding there for twenty minutes or so, she told herself this was ridiculous. It was a beautiful evening and not yet dark. What was the sense of prowling around her gloomy old room? She cast a glance out of her window and bravely made up her mind to go for a stroll in the grounds.
Downstairs the glow of a wall lamp here and there gleamed around the square of hall. As before, she floundered over the layout of the house. It was no use going out of the front door for that only led to the road. She remembered that the french windows in the dining room had been opened showing the grounds at the back.
Quickly she made her way there on tiptoe and peeped inside. The polished table now had a lace runner across its middle doing full justice to the bowl of roses. Around the room the ebony-based table lamps had been switched on.
Carol saw that the french windows were still open and hastily, to get out of the hall, she glided across and outside.
The scen
e in the gathering twilight was restful and really quite beautiful. Not far away she saw the fountain amidst its border of flowers, which she had caught a glimpse of that first afternoon. Still playing to itself it created a soothing kind of music, deflecting the thoughts from the sombre proximity of the house. Across the lawns stood a giant cedar, its flat sweeping branches silhouetted majestically against the evening sky.
The night breezes were cool, however, and realising that it would be foolish to take a stroll in only her thin sleeveless dress, Carol decided to sneak back to her room for a cardigan. She made the trip without incident. It was just when she was stealing back outside through the dining room that she caught the glimpse of crossed trousered legs, over in a shadowy corner beside a reading lamp. She had been only seconds going to her room. The hot colour rushed to her cheeks when she realised that Gray Barrett must have been sitting there all the time. There were armchairs against the wall. This was probably the room he used for relaxing in. The knowledge made her scuttle for the shadows beyond the french window.
Though she went on her stroll as far as the trees bordering the ground, she took no further interest in her surroundings. Her mind now was far too occupied with the problem of how to get back into the house. It was getting too dark to go searching for another door, and it would be ridiculous to go round to the front and ring the bell. When it became obvious that she couldn't stay out in the grounds all night, she resigned herself reluctantly to the fact that she would have to go back through the dining room.
The glow from the lamps in the room spilled out into the night as she moved noiselessly towards it. She crept up to the french windows. With a bit of luck she could sidle through without being noticed. She got halfway across the room. It looked as though all would go well. Then just as she was about on a level with that shadowy shape in the corner, it came abruptly to life.
Rapping his book down on his knee with an impatient air, making Carol jerk to a terrified stop, Gray Barrett barked testily, 'For heaven's sake! Do you have to keep creeping in and out all the time? I'm trying to read.'
'I... I'm sorry,' Carol stammered, 'I didn't... know you were here.'
With a frown he looked at his watch. 'We'll be starting out early in the morning,' he told her tersely. 'I suggest you get some sleep.'
'Yes,' Carol nodded meekly, and slid out of the room.
She scooted upstairs, only too thankful to reach the sanctuary of her own room. Later, undressed and between the sheets, she lay wide-eyed in the shadows, quivering at the ordeal of the evening, and wondering what on earth had possessed her to take on the job. She listened to the stillness of the house feeling intensely alone.
Her mother and father and brothers and sisters were only a few miles away. She could go to them even now if she wanted to.
With a wry look she punched the pillow. She could just see Mr Gray Barrett's face pull into a sneer when he found out she had fled. He had said that she was too young for the job.
She set her mouth determinedly. Well, she would show him that she had no intention of running home, just because of his bite. She would see this thing through whatever the consequences.
AND ANYWAY, IT MADE A CHANGE FROM SELLING LAMPSHADES, SHE TOLD HERSELF WEAKLY, AS SHE DROPPED OFF TO SLEEP.
CHAPTER THREE
EMILY came in before seven with a breakfast tray. Carol sat up at once. She had been awake since six, her apprehension growing with the light of day.
The cheerful woman could only stay a few moments to give her a message from Mr Barrett. She was to come downstairs as soon as she was ready. He wanted to be on the road by eight. They would have to pick up her passport in London, so there was no time to be lost.
Carol found it difficult to swallow her breakfast. This was due partly to excitement at the prospective journey and partly because she dreaded the moment when she would have to present herself to her churlish employer downstairs.
She ate what she could, then throwing the covers back she stumbled out of bed and hurried to her suitcase. It would be cool this early in the morning, so she laid out a lightweight suit in pale green check, with a plain neat skirt and small bolero-type jacket. When she was ready the white blouse she had chosen seemed to spill out too much at the front and below the three- quarter-length sleeves.
Several times she re-tied the scarf neck in an effort to make a presentable bow. Each one seemed worse than the last. In the end she dropped her aching arms. It would have to do. She had packed and locked her case now, and besides, the time was getting on.
She stood back from the mirror, far from satisfied with her appearance. Her pale hair splayed out on her shoulders about her washed-out features. The suit made her look all arms and legs.
Turning quickly away, she gathered up her bags. If she didn't get a move on she'd find herself in hot water again. She clumped out on to the landing and made her way with her cases downstairs.
The front door was wide open. A cold country- scented breeze wafted gustily around the hall. Carol had just got to the bottom of the stairs when Gray Barrett strode in from outside. He was faultlessly attired in a dark suit, his hair and craggy features glistening with an early morning groomed look.
Tugging the cuffs of his sleeves down as though he had been carrying things out to the car, he flicked his glance towards Carol. Though he was preoccupied as usual, it seemed to her that his brown gaze picked out all her faults as it raked over her.
He reached for her luggage with a businesslike gesture. 'I'll take those,' and swinging it up left her to follow him out to the car. She had just got into the doorway when Emily appeared from behind her. 'Bye- bye, Miss Lindley.' The plump woman patted her arm shyly and gave her a sunny smile. 'I do hope you have a pleasant time.'
'Thank you, Mrs Potter,' Carol smiled over her shakiness, 'I hope your sister will soon be better.'
'I've an idea she will,' Emily said with that conspiratorial twinkle.
Gray Barrett had stowed the bags in the back and was holding the car door open. 'Hop to it, Miss Lindley,' he grated impatiently. 'It's time we were off.'
With a last backward glance, and tearing herself away from the comforting presence of the older woman, Carol hurried to the car. The engine thundered into life. From her seat in the back she waved towards the doorway as they crunched off along the drive.
Out on the road the climbing sun was casting an orange dazzle through the trees. The sky was clear, promising a fine day. Swinging the wheel, the man in front informed her briefly, 'My niece's boarding school is at Shawford on the way to Winchester. We should be there in just over an hour.'This said, he settled down to driving, flexing his shoulders in such a way as to create a wall between himself and the seats behind. Carol recognised the gesture all too well, but it didn't worry her. She found it a relief to pretend that the car was driving itself.
Besides, now that they were really on their way, the excitement at the thought of seeing new places began to take a hold on her. Though there was little to choose between her present morose employer and that which she had escaped in the indefatigable Miss Witherston, this at least was better than being cooped up in a store all day.
Her spirits rose as she resolved to get the best possible enjoyment out of the drive. Well, why not? It was a beautiful day, and her work hadn't started yet. Ignoring the dark head and thickset frame in front of her, she turned to the window and gave herself up to the view.
There were all sorts of fascinating things to be seen. Though she was familiar enough with the setting having spent many a Sunday with the family, picnicking in the New Forest, she never tired of its restful beauty; of the wild ponies munching negligently at the roadside, of the lovely old thatched cottages, flowers spilling out of painted wheelbarrows and old-fashioned handcarts in the gardens.
Leaving Lyndhurst behind, they drove past riding schools with their white paddock-railed enclosures and performing rings, and through hamlets and villages, some with amusing names like, Woodley Goose, Dunces Arch and Tiddlesd
ale.
On towards Southampton the greenery began to disappear. Housing estates could be seen in the distance. Skirting the city with its maze of narrow streets and shunning traffic was a tedious business. Further on there was the industrial town of Eastleigh which was even more depressing. But after this the country opened out again to reveal hawthorn hedges sprinkled with white blossom and little square-topped churches in the distance.-*
When Carol saw the signpost for Shawford coming up she was surprised at how the time had passed.
The school stood on the outskirts of the small town. A group of ivy-covered, dignified old buildings with tall church-like windows, stone terraces and quadrangles, it was set amongst green stretches and masked by trees. They drove through the open gates and along a winding drive, drawing in at the bottom of a flight of wide stone steps which were decorated by a pair of ornamental urns.
Applying the brakes, Gray Barrett opened his door and climbed out. He cast a glance to where Carol was sitting uncertainly in the back and said crisply, 'You'd better come along too.' He left her to make her own way out so that she was some way behind him as he went up the steps.
He couldn't have been visible across the open space at the top for more than a second when a shadowy figure appeared from the cloisters opposite and came running across the quadrangle towards him. Fleet of foot, dark hair flying, the girl's small piquant features were lit up as she arrived with a breathless, 'Gosh, I thought you were never coming! Everyone else has gone.'
Gray Barrett's reply was a little clipped as he told her with a shrug of his shoulders, 'I'm a busy man, Stephanie. I've had things to do.' As they stood he turned to where Carol was coming up behind and bridging the silence he went on, 'This is Miss Lindley. She will be your companion during your stay in Italy.'
Across the Lagoon Page 3
