Leaving his niece to make the best of it, he swept Carol before him and ushered her out into the street. At the car she fumbled nervously over the handle. Impatiently he opened the door next to the driving seat and clipped, 'In here.'
The traffic was a pulsing roar as they slid into the stream of it. Carol sat rigid, trying to look patiently unconcerned at the muttered oaths of the man swinging - the wheel beside her.
After jerking and stopping and speeding where space would allow, they drew up at last and turned into the courtyard of a gaunt grey-stone building.
Inside Gray Barrett was greeted with the utmost courtesy, and treated as though he was a man of considerable importance. Everyone seemed to jerk into bustling activity when he arrived. He must have had a message phoned through from Rowan House about the passport, for everyone seemed to know why he was here.
They were shown into a big room furnished with a long polished table and chairs. While Gray Barrett was pacing and waiting, a middle-aged man in spectacles hurried in and laid out a long form on the table. 'Here we are, Mr Barrett,' he said with business-like amiability. 'If the young lady will just write in the details--'
Seated at the table, Carol was seized with raw panic when she saw all the small print. She would never take all this in with the big man hovering behind her. Fortunately for her, the jolly little government official proved to be a mild distraction, with his cordial conversation while the two men waited. Even so, when she faltered at one time, not knowing where to put the pen next, Gray Barrett's finger came in to stab the paper with an irritable, 'Here! You know your mother's christian name, don't you?'
At last all the lines were filled in. The middle-aged official nodded over the form approvingly. 'I'll put this through right away, Mr Barrett.' He moved towards the door, adding with genial optimism, 'It shouldn't take long.'
It was probably no more than ten or fifteen minutes that the man was away. To Carol it seemed years. She sat at the table not daring to move, painfully aware of that other presence in the awful silence of the room.
She sat tensed and immobile for so long that in the end her aching back and neck muscles would stand it no longer, and she was forced to turn to a more relaxed position.
And why not? she asked herself with flagging bravado. He was only a man, wasn't he?
In her new position now that she had moved, she had a clear view of him, standing big and frowning, his gaze directed out of the window. There was nothing monster-like about him that she could see. She had even noticed him smiling once or twice since they had entered the government offices. His teeth were white and even. She had noticed that too. And it had struck her, whenever she had sneaked a look at him on these occasions, how his smile seemed to give wings to the scowling shadows on his face.
Eventually the busy little government man returned. When Carol had signed her name again she was presented with her passport. The crisp new card with the awful picture of her inside seemed scant reward for all the pen work she had had to do. Nor was she to have the pleasure of possessing it. As they took their leave of the government offices, Gray Barrett held out his hand and said sourly, 'After all the trouble we've had getting it, I'd better hang on to that.'
The traffic had thinned out considerably as they made their way back to the store. Most of the shops and businesses had closed their doors for the weekend, leaving the city centre to the tourists. Carol had a suspicion that the people in the passport office had stayed on purely for Gray Barrett's benefit.
It was much the same story at the store. The doors were closed, but the manageress came forward as smilingly as ever to let Gray Barrett and Carol in. She explained that the seamstress had made all the necessary adjustments and would be working with her staff through the afternoon to complete the alterations.
Gray Barrett nodded and gave the name of the hotel where the purchased goods were to be delivered. They collected Stephanie, who was sitting with a bored look . in front of a portable television, and made their way back out to the car.
The morning's business apparently completed, they cruised along the wide streets past tourist spots gay with sightseers. Carol had only been to London once before on a school outing, so her gaze tended to swing about excitedly. Stephanie, seated beside her, had her head in a colourful teenage magazine which she had acquired from somewhere. Gray Barrett, just in front of her, drove leisurely, but looking to neither right nor left. Because she had no one with whom she could exclaim along with when she saw some particularly riveting sight Carol had to keep swallowing back her gasps of amusement and pleasure.
At one time when they passed a street band, a motley group complete with top hats and false noses and big bass drums, ebulliently serenading the passers-by, she got laughingly carried away and inadvertently grabbed the broad shoulder in front of her in her enthusiasm.
Almost at once she remembered where she was and dropped back pink-cheeked into her seat as Gray Barrett remarked with acid humour, 'Save yourself, Miss Lindley. The journey hasn't started yet. And we've got a long way to go.'
CHAPTER FOUR
IT was almost three o'clock when they drew up alongside the hotel, a big old-fashioned building which took up a whole corner block. Inside, the huge foyer was the scene, of considerable activity with porters hurrying across the space and guests wandering here and there.
The luggage was brought in and the car was driven away. After watching these jobs being attended to, Gray Barrett strode over to the reception desk. Carol, traipsing alongside Stephanie behind him, tried not to show her awe at her surroundings.
Across the space she saw stone archways leading off to different sections of the hotel, and dim alcoves holding great musty-looking couches. But dominating the foyer as one came in was the grand staircase at the opposite end. Red-carpeted, it started at the centre, then flanked off to right and left, its scroll-carved wooden handrails continuing up on either side to the balconied first floor. Above there were white marble busts looking down from high places.
To Carol it all had the hollow ring of a rather grand museum.
While they were waiting at the desk her delighted eye fastened on a rack of picture postcards depicting London in glorious colour. She must have some of these for the family. With Stephanie looking on idly she swung the rack round picking out the gayest scenes she could find. Thoroughly enjoying the task, she quite forgot where she was until Gray Barrett, turning from the desk, complete with porters and luggage and room keys, spotted her and came looming in to say with a barbed smile, 'Just let us know where you're ready, Miss Lindley.'
'Oh, I'm sorry.' She jumped round, the pleasure on her face receding behind a blush. 'I just thought I could quickly…'
As she fumbled in her handbag for money he clipped, 'Forget that,' and waving the postcards she had chosen towards the receptionist, he shunted her on her way.
They went up the staircase, their luggage going on ahead of them. Carol heard her employer's crisp instructions sounding in her ear. 'I've ordered a light meal to be sent up to your room. Dinner is at seven-thirty. Make sure you're down prompt.' His sharp gaze included Stephanie as he gave the order. Then with a curt, 'I'll see you both, then,' he nodded to one of the porters who took them, a key jingling in his hand, along a „ carpeted corridor on the first floor.
The room they were shown into had a high ceiling and tall gaunt windows draped with yards of net. The London traffic fumes were no doubt responsible for their greyish-white appearance. There were two beds and a wardrobe and one or two oddments of furniture.
Their luggage was set down and the door closed behind them. Carol threw off her jacket and went to look out of the window. There was little to be seen of the street because of the huge cornice jutting out just below the windowsill, but she was able to catch a glimpse of one or two passers-by down there, and a red bus trundling along. Inside the room, along the walls, was all the wiring for central heating and other comforts. But none of these modern touches could disguise the musty age of the p
lace. One could even smell the centuries in the high ornate ceiling and the plastered walls.
She noticed that Stephanie moved about, removing her school blazer, tossing her tie on to the dressing table, without a thought for her surroundings, as though she had done it all so many times before.
Now that they were alone Carol felt all her old shyness welling up inside. Determined to overcome it, she swung away from the window and asked brightly> 'Now! Which bed would you like?'
'Oh, I don't mind,' Stephanie shrugged. 'I'll take this one.' She dropped down on the nearest one to the door, apparently already at a loose end.
'I suppose we could unpack our night clothes,' Carol said chattily, 'and our toilet things.'
Stephanie was just about to do so uncomplainingly when there was a staccato knock on the door.
Carol jumped nervously, wondering who on earth was coming in. When she saw an efficient-looking waiter appearing with a tray of food she had no idea what to do. Stephanie, on the other hand, showed no embarrassment. With a touch of her uncle's imperiousness she waved him in and told him to place the tray down on the bedside table. Carol gave him a shy smile of thanks and watched him go out and close the door behind him.
They ate sitting on the beds with the table between them. There were two plates of fresh salad with slices of ham at the side, buttered rolls and a pot of tea. Carol, enjoying the novel way of eating, made happy small talk about the meal. Stephanie replied when it was necessary. Though she wasn't exactly unfriendly, she didn't go out of her way to make conversation. She had shown at the school that she was capable of various emotions, but since then she seemed to have adopted a resigned attitude.
Carol, in her wisdom, decided not to push things. As she saw it, the two of them were going to be together for a long time. Far better to let a friendship develop naturally between them.
The meal over, they put the tray outside the door and prepared to relax. Carol knew by her aching body that she was very tired after her early morning rise. Yet when she lay on the bed and tried to doze she found it impossible. Her mind was far too alive and active in her new surroundings; her nerves tense with excitement at the thought of the journey tomorrow. She had never flown in a plane before.
After a while she gave up the idea of sleep, and rising, she went to get her handbag. She had forgotten about the postcards. That would give her something to do for die afternoon. It gave her a new thrill to browse through the colourful scenes she had chosen. There were four in all, so she had plenty to keep her busy.
She tried to pack as much news as she could on the back of each card. Seated at the bedside table, her face glowingly absorbed in her task, she became aware only gradually that Stephanie was watching her. Stretched out on her bed holding her magazine, the younger girl asked, her eyes on the cards, 'Who are you writing to?'
'My parents,' Carol replied, smiling, 'and two of my - younger sisters.'
Stephanie digested this slowly. Then, her face registering a certain coldness, she returned to her magazine.
For Carol the main highlight of the afternoon was , the arrival of their clothes from the store. Hers came in a brand new leather suitcase. Stephanie's were still in their boxes. She dispensed with them emotionlessly, transferring the contents to her expensive equipage.
As it grew nearer the time to go downstairs, the girls went in turns to take a leisurely bath in the bathroom along the corridor. Afterwards Carol drifted about uncertainly in her bathrobe. She wasn't at all sure what she ought to wear for dinner in a hotel. She saw nothing wrong in asking the younger girl's advice.
Flicking through her own clothes, Stephanie said with a sigh, 'Oh, Gray will expect us to wear something grand, I suppose.'
Carol mused on the reply as she turned to her suitcase. So his niece called him Gray, then, not Uncle.
In view of what she had been told Carol chose one of her new dresses to wear. It was in shell-pink crepe and had a broad pastel-embroidered sash stitched up high under the bosom of the sleeveless bodice. She felt very regal in it, and not at all gauche, which was her usual experience whenever she dressed up for an occasion.
The pink went quite well with her pale hair, she thought. Her complexion had a fresh scrubbed look, but she had never been able to get on with paint and powder on her face, and she saw no reason to start now.
Stephanie with an equally scrubbed face looked very demure in a blue and white dress with a boat-shaped neck and tiny cap sleeves. Both in pale shoes, a handkerchief tucked away in some discreet place, they went out along the corridor and made their way down the carpeted staircase.
The foyer was lit with heavy candelabra-type chandeliers. People in evening dress were wandering about near the various archways. One or two stood around as though waiting to be joined by others. The noise of the Saturday night traffic sounded from the open doors.
Carol saw Gray Barrett quite clearly while they were still on the stairs. He was standing near the restaurant archway talking to an elderly man with a military bearing and luxuriant white moustache. She knew Stephanie's uncle had seen them just as clearly coming down the stairs, but he made no attempt to round off his conversation with the other man as they trailed across the foyer to him and hung about.
Stephanie regarded the hold-up as a matter of course, letting her glance roam idly around while they waited. Carol, lacking the younger girl's poise, and blazingly conscious of herself before the dozens of eyes in the foyer, found every second that they stood there an eternity. She had ample time to notice Gray Barrett's perfectly cut suit of pale grey check, his crisply combed dark hair and clean-shaven somewhat craggy jaw.
She breathed an inward sigh of relief when at last the two men broke up. Expressing a wish that all would go well with the Italian trip, the elderly man gave a last wave and moved off. As he went, Gray Barrett acknowledged the parting comment with a dry one of his own, then he turned and shepherded the girls before him into the restaurant.
The tables draped with white cloths were circular and spaciously arranged. The heavy silverware and tall pillars gave the room a dated elegance. The three of them were led to a table beside the windows. Stephanie chose to sit with her back to them looking into the room. Her uncle took the chair facing her. Carol sat in the side place between them.
They were served immediately with a soup, hot and savoury, then a meat dish. Carol held her knife and fork with trembling hands. She was terrified of committing a blunder, of picking up the wrong item of cutlery in Gray Barrett's presence.
A sheen on her pale hair from the muted glow of the lights, her arms thin and bare, she ate with a sparrowlike timidity. Though she was too afraid to lift her eyes much from her plate, she was aware of the room crowded with diners, of the general relaxed atmosphere, the hum of voices, the clink of tableware, the occasional thread of laughter rising above the background of taped music.
With the meal well under way it became much the same at her own table. Stephanie seemed to come alive now that her uncle was no longer occupied with business matters and she had him just across the table from her. Her brown eyes shone as she made comments to him about the food and about the people in the room. Quite obviously she adored him.
But though she seemed to want to claim the whole of her uncle's attention, Carol got the impression that half the time he didn't even know his niece was there. When he wasn't talking to the waiter or frowning over the wine list he was mainly occupied with the leisurely conversation taking place between himself and two middle-aged business men at the next table, men with whom he appeared to be mildly acquainted.
Throughout the evening the topics centred around government policy on this and that, and the latest news on the Stock Exchange. Carol even found herself relaxing under cover of the dreary conversation. She discovered she needn't crouch over her plate quite so rigidly, and sitting back a little she was able to let her gaze wander at times over the room.
Gradually she got to the point where she was secretly enjoying the occasion. The fo
od was deliciously cooked. There was so much to see in the gaunt Victorian atmosphere of the room; red-faced colonel types dining with their ladies, an Indian couple in colourful dress, and several matronly ladies, one of whom had a gorgeous white toy poodle which would keep jumping about on its hind legs.
No one appeared to be in any hurry to tear themselves away from the restaurant. The waiters served the courses leisurely, the music played on discreetly in the background and time drifted pleasantly by. Apparently one took the whole of the evening to dine in London.
When at last the tables started to empty, Gray Barrett nodded a farewell to his business friends and led the way out into the foyer. Though he himself was obviously heading for the bar he made it clear that the girls should go to their room and get to bed. He told them, in his crisp tones, to be all packed and down at eight in the morning for breakfast. Then with a brisk 'Goodnight,' he left them drifting towards the stairs.
Carol was in no mood to care one way or the other about being packed off to bed. She was thrilled at the way she had spent her Saturday night. Anything further would only have shattered her dreamy contentment. Besides, there was tomorrow to look forward to, and Italy!
She felt the thick carpet of the staircase beneath her feet. At the top, on a mischievous impulse, she flopped down on one of the big old-fashioned sofas with their blown-up-looking cushions and upholstery. Sinking into it, she laughed at Stephanie, 'Come on! It's fun.'
Stephanie, being young, patiently obliged, though her smile was strained and that animated light of earlier was missing now from her eyes.
When the girls turned they could see through the balustrade down to the foyer below. They stayed there for a while, peeping at the people coming and going, then the younger girl said, wearying of the game, 'Let's get to bed, shall We?'
Across the Lagoon Page 5
