The light went out of the small face. Carol found herself being raked coldly by a pair of brown eyes which reminded her of her employer's. In turn she saw a slender girl with an almost fully developed figure beneath the school uniform. Her slightly waving hair, which she wore drawn back from her face by a broad headband, had a lustrous sheen about it. Her smooth complexion was inclining towards an olive glow. With that wide smile, glimpsed briefly a few seconds ago, showing perfect white teeth, there was no doubt that in a few years'
time Stephanie would be a beauty.
Carol felt colourless and wraith-like beside her. Awkwardly she searched for a smile and forced out a* friendly, 'Hello.'
'Hello.' The reply was polite but nothing more. Drowning in shyness, Carol was saved from the strain of the moment by the appearance of another figure coming across the space. A smart woman with a beautiful hair-do and a tailored dress, she could only have been the headmistress.
'Mr Barrett! How good to see you.' She came smilingly forward.
Gray Barrett acknowledged her with a nod and went to shake her outstretched hand. They stood and talked for a while, then turned and walked back across the quadrangle.
Carol hung about feeling intensely awkward again. Though she was Stephanie's senior by four years, she felt infinitely more gauche. Telling herself that this wouldn't do at all, she made an attempt to appear in control of the situation by suggesting with a practical smile, 'I suppose we ought to wait by the car.'
'I expect so,' Stephanie said docilely enough. They strolled as far as the steps where the younger girl stopped to run a finger with studied casualness around one of the old stone urns. The childish gesture made Carol feel a little more sure of herself. Realising that it was up to her to try and break the ice between them, she paused beside the other stone urn and queried pleasantly, 'Are you looking forward to spending the summer in Italy?'
Stephanie shrugged. 'Make a change from this old dump,' she replied offhandedly.
The indelicacy of the remark put Carol off her stroke a little. But it wasn't entirely unexpected. She could still remember her own schooldays. Pushing on, she commented chattily, 'I expect you'll be seeing your parents when you come back?'
Stephanie turned and said, giving her a straight look, 'They haven't been to England for five years.'
Aware that she had hit rocky ground again, Carol kept her smile and continued easily, 'But you've been out to them on and off, I expect?'
'Nope!' Stephanie tossed her head. There was a brittle gleam in her eyes as though she was challenging comment.
Carol had more sense than to make any. She recognised quickly that she had stumbled on to the wrong subject altogether with which to open up a conversation. While she was trying to appear only lightly touched by the tense atmosphere, the young girl whirled herself round and down the steps as though being purposefully mocking. Coming to rest in a sitting position on the sloping wall, she proceeded to count off on her fingers, a bitter edge to her flippant tones, 'Five summers ago I went with Janey Bennett's family to Cyprus. The one after that Heather Hawkins' parents took me on their yacht with them. I went with them again the following summer, round the Greek islands. Then Anne Penny's married sister let me stay in their flat with them in Gibraltar. That was last year. But she said she was too busy to have me this year.' Stephanie lifted her slim shoulders in a gesture of light-hearted resignation, but her voice quavered under the weight of forced humour. 'I'm running out of farming-out accommodation.'
Swinging her gaze round, she shot a look at Carol. And then as though she realised she might have hinted too much, she rose to say quickly, 'Mind you, if Mummy and Daddy weren't so busy, I expect they'd have me out there like a shot. It's just that... well, they're so busy all the time.'
'Of course.' Carol made a show of being completely understanding. Then she turned to admire the view. Though she adopted a carefree pose, her heart went out to the younger girl. It couldn't be much fun for her being separated from her parents like this; abandoned to the impersonal life of a boarding school all year, waiting each summer for someone to come and pick- her up. It was easy to see she was a lonely child. And there had been no loving embrace for her uncle.
Thinking about it made Carol feel almost ashamed of her own closely knit family.
There was no time for further conjecture, however, for hearing voices she turned to see the two figures reappearing within the shadowy cloisters. Gray Barrett was shaking the headmistress's hand again. He bent to pick up the suitcases near by. Then after a last nod to her wave of farewell, he made his way across the quadrangle towards the steps.
Knowing only relief after Stephanie's rather frank outburst just now, Carol led the way down the steps to the car. The two girls sat in the back. Gray Barrett stowed his niece's cases in the boot, then he took his seat behind the driving wheel again. Without a backward glance at the rear seats he started up, and they were soon leaving the school grounds behind.
Carol sat keyed up at the atmosphere inside the car. She wasn't sure whether she was supposed to try and engage her young charge in conversation or not. Stephanie, showing no signs of her bitter mood or earlier, seemed content to sit and stare out at the scenery. In the end, Carol decided to do the same.
The hedges and trees sped by against the summer blue of the sky. Wallflowers and tumbling aubretia were showing in the gardens of the little town houses. Soon they had left the rural, picturesque Shawford behind and were aiming towards London.
The sound of the tyres hummed over the road. Sometimes there was nothing much to be seen beyond the wide highway on which they travelled, at others they cruised through country towns and along narrow lanes past sleepy hamlets.
As the morning drew on Gray Barrett broke the silence of the interior of the car to say impersonally, 'We'd better stop for some refreshment shortly. I'll keep a look out for a suitable spot.'
Carol eagerly kept a look out too. She had been noticing the pretty little cafés and countryside inns along tie way. As they drove through a little market town she saw with sinking heart that the man at the wheel had an eye only for the rather dull-looking commercial-traveller type hotels. When she saw him preparing to pull in, a few minutes later, beside one of these street-side establishments, her disappointment was so great she exclaimed without thinking, 'Oh, couldn't we go somewhere where there's a garden?'
Gray Barrett set his jaw and heaved an impatient sigh, but he didn't pull in where he had planned to. He kept on going slowly until, out into the country again, they came upon a corner-side inn with a tall thatched roof and white-painted walls, and islands of flowers around the front. 'This suit you?' he asked, the hint of sarcasm in his tones.
Carol, still wondering how she had found the nerve to open her mouth, but too pleased with the view to care, nodded to say shyly, 'It's much prettier.'
She waited until they were able to alight, with happy impatience. She didn't know about the others, but what with the drive, the sunny day, the pretty scenery, and now the picturesque inn with its gay umbrellas and green side lawns, she was developing a distinct holiday feeling. She was filled with an urge to enjoy everything to the full.
They parked in the space provided and walked over to the inn. Carol gazed about her with lively interest. She noticed the old swinging sign and the big white- painted wagon wheel, from which the inn derived its name, standing under the thatched roof entrance.
Gray Barrett ushered them into the garden at the side. His gaze searching out the entrance to a small bar across the space he said crisply, 'Find yourself a table.
I'll have something sent out.'
He strode off and disappeared into the interior, and Carol, realising that he had left them to it, said brightly, * pointing to a trelliswork section, 'Shall we sit over there? It looks rather nice.'
Stephanie nodded indifferently and trailed after her. They hadn't been settled at the table long when a man in a white apron came and swung a tray down under their noses. On it were enough wrap
ped sandwiches to feed a team of roadworkers, and two glasses of milk. Carol had by this time worked up an appreciable appetite. She unwrapped a packet of ham sandwiches with relish, but the glass of milk which had been ordered for her she eyed with a wry look. Gray Barrett had obviously decided she was still at the weaning stage.
She could see him from where she was sat. He was standing inside the doorway beside the bar, conspicuously more at ease in a room filled with men. His broad back was turned away from the outdoors as though he preferred to forget them for the time being. He spoke desultorily with one or two other men beside the bar.
She brought her attention back to the table and the tasty sandwich she was munching. She noticed, without appearing to, that Stephanie ate more as a form of duty rather than with any kind of enjoyment. Because Carol felt much more relaxed in the picturesque setting, she was able to smile encouragement, exclaiming chummily as she attacked another sandwich, 'I'm starving! Aren't you?'
'Not really,' Stephanie shrugged, taking the odd bite at her sandwich. And then politely, to excuse Carol's appetite, she remarked, 'But I expect you've been on the road a long time.'
The fifteen-year-old finished her glass of milk and rose to gaze absently about her. There was no one else in the enclosure apart from two old ladies in summer hats who stood talking at the gate. As Stephanie wandered off between the tables, touching a hand here and there where she passed, Carol was able to study her at her leisure.
The younger girl didn't act like someone about to embark on a summer vacation. She still wore her school uniform uncomplainingly. Most girls of her age would have been frantically impatient to fling off the trappings of term time by now, and clamouring to get into something gayer and more individual. Nor did she go skipping and flying around, drinking in the delicious freedom of holiday time as any schoolgirl would have done. But rather, with her dark hair hanging down her straight back and her elfin features quietly composed, she moved with melancholy grace and a seriousness beyond her years. The only flash of youthful vivacity and undisguised happiness that Carol had seen on Stephanie's young face had been in that moment at the school when she had spotted her uncle calling to collect her.
Thoughtfully Carol finished her meal. She drank the milk, wishing it had been a sharp effervescent thirst- quenching chink. Then feeling pleasantly refreshed, and bearing in mind that it was up to her to make friends with her young charge, she rose and drifted across the grass to join her.
With Stephanie trailing loosely alongside her Carol made a tour of the leafy enclosure, stopping to gaze at star-shaped clematis spilling over the walls and at green ferns sprouting in corners. Where climbing roses adorned the arches of the trelliswork, she endeavoured to inject a little warmth into their stroll by exclaiming enthusiastically, 'I love roses, don't you? We've got masses of them in our garden just now.'
Stephanie turned to give her a curious stare and asked, 'Do you have a garden?'
•Why, yes!' Carol smiled, a little taken back by the question. But later, watching the younger girl drift on ahead, she thought she understood.
Stephanie's parents had lived abroad for five years. They were apparently quite content to let the responsibility of their daughter's upbringing rest with the boarding school or anyone else who was willing to take her on for a while. Though she had been quick to defend her mother and father after her carping complaints at the school, Carol hadn't been fooled. She had seen enough in the short space of time since they had met to guess that Stephanie was an unwanted child.
When the younger girl had asked just now, with something like envious wonder in her tones, 'Do you have a garden?' she had really been saying 'Do you have a home?'
Arriving back at the table they went off to freshen up for the rest of the journey. They were ready beside the gate when Gray Barrett came out from the bar. He led the way over to the car and wasting no words, took his seat behind the wheel. They were soon back on the road again.
It was not long after this that they began to touch on the outskirts of London. The roads became wider, busier and thundered with traffic. There was nothing to do but watch the shapes spin by. When it seemed that the motorway would never end, they at last came into the suburbs of the city. Here it was a tedious succession of stops and starts at various traffic lights.
Stephanie grew restless. She sighed at the closed windows and commented, fidgeting 'It's awfully stuffy in here.'
'It's even worse outside with the fumes,' her uncle replied tetchily, sharply avoiding a looming bumper. 'And there's no point in garaging the car until we've finished the business that's got to be done.'
The bulk of this was apparently the purchasing of Stephanie's holiday garments, for a short while later they drew up alongside an elegant store in a quiet, exclusive area.
It appeared that uncle and niece were no strangers here. As soon as they entered, a coolly smiling manageress hurried across the floor towards them.
'Good morning.' Gray Barrett acknowledged the woman's courteous greeting with a brisk nod of his head. 'My niece will require a complete summer wardrobe. We expect to be in Italy about three months.'
'Certainly, Mr Barrett.' The manageress inclined her smile in the direction of the interior. "Would you come this way, please.'
Gray Barrett strode off beside her and Carol and Stephanie trudged along behind, over the thick carpet to a luxurious salon up a low flight of stairs. Here, while a young lady assistant was being briefed discreetly, Gray Barrett settled himself in one of the padded armchairs and opened the paper he had bought from a newstand during a recent traffic jam.
The assistant was beckoning smilingly from across the room, and gathering from the shut-down expression behind the newspaper that she was expected to go along too, Carol led the way.
The beach outfits and summer ensembles which were brought out for Stephanie's approval were breathlessly expensive. Prices were not mentioned, of course, but Carol could see at a glance that one item would have cost her at least a month's wages.
The assistant's enthusiasm knew no bounds. Obviously aware that the cost was immaterial, she set herself out to be as imaginative as possible. Holding up one garment after another, she sparkled such encouragements as, 'You'll find this gorgeously cool for the beach,' and, 'This is a pretty little dress for evenings.'
Carol worried a little about Stephanie's choice of attire. The girl seemed to go for things which were obviously a little too old for her. Carol tried to point this out to her when she felt it was necessary, only to find that, though Stephanie viewed most of the buying with placid indifference, she had, when she set her mind on something, a surprisingly strong will. The assistant was no help at all on these occasions. She was mainly concerned with pleasing rather than advising.
When a suitable selection had been made there was the business of trying on the purchases. Most of the garments fitted perfectly, but one or two needed slight - alteration, mainly at the hem. A seamstress was on hand in the salon for this purpose and every so often Stephanie had to come out of the changing booth for a fitting.
She was standing in a beautifully tailored striped beach suit having the trouser hems adjusted when Carol, looking on near by, noticed with a nervous thudding of her heart that Gray Barrett, his paper now folded on his knee, was also watching the proceedings.
She walked over to where the purchased garments spilled about in boxes and tried to look busy. Hypersensitive to his movements, she knew he had risen from his chair and was strolling critically around the area where his niece was being attended to by the seamstress and the assistant.
She didn't know why she trembled when she heard the muffled thud of his footsteps on the carpet coming up behind her. She felt his brown gaze taking in the expensive array of garments she was fiddling over, then his harsh voice sounded on her disbelieving ears. 'You'd better select yourself a dozen or so outfits while we're here.'
'Me?' Carol swung on him with startled wonder. It was true she had been full of wistful admiration f
or the tasteful clothes she had seen in the store. But to be invited to choose some for herself! The idea left her positively breathless.
Brusquely embarrassed by the glowing look she gave him, Gray Barrett said somewhat pompously, 'My niece is used to having only the best. Naturally as her companion you will be expected to command the same respect. You'll hardly do that with one small suitcase.'
Seeing his point, Carol nodded meekly. But still glowingly she lifted her eyes and said, 'Thank you very much.'
'Don't thank me,' he rasped drily, shifting his weight. 'Stephanie's parents are not poor. They're willing to pay anything to ensure her well-being.'
Always provided she doesn't bother them, Carol was tempted to say, but she didn't.
He must have spoken to the assistant, for a second or two later she came smilingly over. It wouldn't have been so bad if Carol had been left to it, but much to her excruciating shyness she found that Gray Barrett made no move to return to his chair. Standing beside her, he looked at every garment the assistant brought out and when Carol was too afraid to show her delight, he would comment with masculine offhandedness, 'That looks all right.'
The light dresses for evening made her eyes shine. If she dared to finger one tentatively he would say testily, 'Well, for heaven's sake, go and try it on.'
Eventually she was fitted out with several changes of attire. Luckily, because of her height, she had no problems with alterations. Stephanie still had one or two dresses which needed to be pinned at the hem. As she stood while the seamstress measured busily, Gray Barrett cast one or two impatient glances at his watch.
Carol knew that it was approaching lunch time and she guessed that Saturday was half-day closing for the store. She couldn't think of anything else which would cause the man's obvious ill-humour, until he returned from a conversation with the manageress and briskly informed his niece, 'We'll have to come back later and pick you up, Stephanie.' And with a grinding look at Carol, 'Miss Lindley here doesn't yet possess a passport, and the offices won't stay open indefinitely. We'll be back as quick as possible.'
Across the Lagoon Page 4
