The Hostage Heart

by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

  “Thanks,” she said gruffly. He drove off, and she felt a little remorseful. A puddle was gathering at her feet. “I’m making a mess of your nice clean car,” she said in a small voice. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. For some reason, she saw, glancing at his profile, he seemed to be enjoying the situation. “When we get back, you’d better go straight upstairs and have a hot bath. You don’t want Zara’s chums seeing you like that.”

  Now that was sheer kindness. She looked at him in surprise, and saw a smile directed towards her so different from anything she had seen on his face before that it made her insides turn over.

  “Thanks,” she said. She felt confused. Something was happening here, she thought; some contact was being made between them which she had not at all expected. She knew nothing about him, and yet she could feel herself liking him, as if they had known each other a long time; and him liking her, which was even more odd and unlikely. “Um, look—” she began hesitantly.

  “Yes?”

  “About that cow—?”

  Now he was positively grinning. “I won’t tell a soul,” he pledged. His eyes met hers, full of warmth and, the last thing she expected to see, some uncertainty. “But on one condition,” he added.

  “Which is?”

  “That you take the job as Poppy’s governess.”

  She hesitated. “I haven’t been offered it yet.”

  “You will be.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I’m sure. Look here, Poppy likes you – she told me so – and she doesn’t like many people. And I think you’ll be right for her. So will you take the job? Please?”

  Afterwards, she was always sure it was that ‘please’ that decided her. It seemed so unlike him, and she was a sucker for novelty.

  Chapter Six

  Since Emma was available, there seemed no reason not to start her trial period at once; so on Monday she went back to London to pack up her belongings. Gavin said he would be in London himself that afternoon, and to her surprise he offered to pick her and her luggage up at the flat and drive her back. She was pleased, not only because it would save humping cases to the railway station, but also because she’d be able to show him off to her flatmates. And then she caught herself up sharply. Show him off? He was her potential future employer’s son, that was all!

  Atkins drove her to the station for the earliest train. “I’m glad you’re coming back,” he said. “Makes one more human being in the house. Score one to our side, eh?”

  “After the reception I got the first evening, I was surprised they wanted me,” Emma said.

  He glanced at her. “Did their best to put you off, did they? But the Guv’nor’s all right, his bark’s worse than his bite. Her ladyship don’t like nobody, that’s a cross we all have to bear. And Zara’s a spoilt little cow that wants smacking, that’s all. Don’t let ’er bother you none.”

  Emma didn’t say anything, but she felt embarrassed. Ought they to be discussing the family behind their backs, especially in these terms? If she agreed with him, would her words get back to her potential employers?

  He seemed to understand her thoughts. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t say nothing. Had a go at you, did she? Her trouble is, she’s jealous of everybody and everything. Keep an eye on her, is my advice. She’d stab you in the back as soon as look at you.”

  She thought she might as well get the full low-down while she could. “What do you think of Gavin?” she asked.

  “He’s a bit of a stuffed shirt, but he can’t help that. That was the way he was brought up. And he’s had females buzzing around him all his life, so he can’t help thinking he’s God’s gift. I’ve known a score of young ladies mad about him, but he’s never cared a jot for anyone but himself, as far as I can see – and why should he? He don’t need anybody. He’s straight enough with me, that’s all I care about; but then I’ve known him since he was a kid. He knows he’d get short shrift if he give me any of the old acid.”

  This was not encouraging, though it was what Emma had suspected about him. “He was the first Mrs Akroyd’s son, wasn’t he?”

  “That’s right.” He glanced at her again, to gauge her interest. “She wasn’t a nob any more than the Guv’nor. Childhood sweethearts, they were. Lived next door to each other when they was kids. Nice woman, she was, too – no nonsense about her. She doted on Gavin. But then when Mr A started to get rich, nothing would do for him but Gavin had to go to public school and mix with other rich kids. So they packed him off to some posh boarding school. It nearly broke his mum’s heart, but she wanted the best for him so she went along with it. Then while he was away at school, she died. He was only nine.”

  “Oh, I am sorry! Was he very much upset?”

  “Bound to’ve been, I should think; but he never shows his feelings much. I reckon that’s what made him so stiff and stand-offish, anyway; especially when his dad married Lady Susan so soon after. You know what kids are like.”

  “I suppose he’d see it as a betrayal of his mother.”

  “Yeah. Well, it stands to reason he must’ve known his mum was only a common woman, dunnit?”

  “But surely nobody minds about that sort of thing any more,” Emma protested.

  “Don’t they?” he snorted. Emma thought about the first evening and realised she was dealing with a different kind of world now. “Well, him and Lady Susan have never got on, though they’re always polite to each other, of course. And there’s no love lost between him and Zara. He likes the twins all right, but they’re away at school most of the time. And Poppy—”

  Just at that interesting moment they pulled up at the station entrance, and Atkins interrupted himself to say, “’Ow about that for timing? That’s your train coming in now! Better step on it – they don’t hang about for passengers these days. Got your ticket?”

  “Yes, thanks.” Emma gathered her bags. “Thanks very much for the lift.”

  “S’my job, ennit? Be seeing you, then.”

  “Yes, very soon.”

  “I knew it! They’ve thrown her out! She’s come back to us!” Suzanne cried as she opened the door to Emma.

  “Well, yes and no,” Emma smiled, pushing past her. “I smell something cooking! I’m starving.”

  “What, they didn’t even feed you? The way the rich treat their servants is shameful,” Suzanne pretended indignation.

  “Is that you, Em?” Alison said, coming out from the sitting-room. “You’re early. Chucked you out, have they?”

  “What’s that?” Rachel appeared from the kitchen. “They did what? Oh, poor Emma!”

  “You’re all very eager for me to fail my first job interview,” Emma complained. “But I might as well put you all out of your misery. They liked me, I’m on a month’s trial, and I’ve just come back for my things.”

  “Well, congratulations,” Rachel said. “Come into the kitchen and tell us everything. I’ve got a cake in the oven. It should be ready any minute.”

  “Are they filthy rich?” Alison asked.

  “Strinking,” Emma said, sitting down at the kitchen table and easing off her shoes. “Oh, this is comfortable!”

  “Tired of the high life already?” Suzanne asked with a cynical smile. “What’s the house like?”

  “Rambling and Tudor. They only live in one wing. It stands in a huge park – a mile from the gate to the house, just like in all the stories – and they’ve so many servants I haven’t counted them all yet.”

  “Fantastic!” Alison said.

  “I suppose you have to live in the servants’ hall and sleep in an attic?” Suzanne said.

  “No, I shall have my own room and bathroom, and I’m supposed to be one of the family, but as far as possible I mean to have my meals with Poppy – that’s the little girl’s nickname. Oh, thanks,” she added as Rachel put a mug of tea in front of her.

  “Why the segregation?” Suzanne asked. “Didn’t you like them?”

  Emma frowned. “Th
ey’re not a happy family. Mr Akroyd’s a bit of a rough diamond. ‘I’m a plain man and I know what I like’: that sort of thing. But I don’t think there’s any real harm in him, and he’ll be away a lot anyway. There are two little boys I haven’t seen yet, but they’re away at school most of the time. Lady Susan’s as cold as charity, hardly speaks and never looks at you. And Zara, the elder girl, has got a chip on her shoulder, is rude and sullen, and has taken an instant dislike to me.”

  “How lovely for you!” Suzanne said. “Just what you need to make you feel at home.”

  “Poor Emma, isn’t there anyone nice there?” Rachel said, getting her cake out of the oven.

  “Poppy seems like a nice little thing, but rather nervous and down-trodden. She’s been though some kind of emotional trauma and she’s got a food-phobia – hardly eats a thing – but she seems to want to be friendly, which is the main thing.”

  “It’s not what I’d call the main thing,” Alison said. “What’re you going to do for a social life?”

  “Oh, I might be able to get the occasional game of darts in the village pub,” Emma said airily.

  “You can’t bury yourself in the country like that,” Alison said, looking shocked. “How are you going to meet any men?”

  “I’ll come up to London on my days off and you can line them up for me,” Emma said.

  “Oh well, it’s only for a month, anyway,” Suzanne said firmly.

  Emma laughed. “That’s my girl! Never look on the bright side! That cake smells heavenly, Rache. I suppose there’s no chance of a piece for a starving traveller?”

  “Of course. I don’t mind cutting it now. Or would you like something more substantial?”

  “No, thanks all the same, just a piece of cake. I haven’t got long. I’ve got to get my things together. Gavin’s calling for me in about an hour.”

  There was a brief silence, and then the three of them said with one voice, “Who’s Gavin?”

  “Oh, didn’t I mention Gavin?”

  “No, you didn’t,” Rachel said.

  “Now I wonder why the omission?” Alison added with heavy irony. “A bit of a Freudian slip, that. Significant, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Not a bit. He’s the son of the house. Late twenties. Very superior.”

  “In what way?” Suzanne asked suspiciously.

  “Aloof and proud,” Emma said.

  Alison and Rachel exchanged a look, and Alison sighed. “Pity. I thought for a minute—”

  “Not for the fraction of a minute,” Emma said warningly. It was comfortable to be back at the flat, to be able to wander round barefoot and not be on one’s best behaviour, to be able to say what one liked without being afraid of being misunderstood or snubbed. Home, however shabby, certainly had its advantages. She was almost sorry when the doorbell rang to announce Gavin’s arrival – almost, but not quite. It was going to be an adventure, and she was ready for an adventure.

  The other three had been watching the afternoon film in the sitting-room. “I’ll get it!” Suzanne yelled, and beat Alison off the mark. By the time Emma got into the hall, Suzanne was gone, the flat door was standing open, and the other two were standing about expectantly.

  “She’s gone down to the street door,” Rachel said. “Maybe it got stuck again.”

  “Or maybe your Gavin doesn’t understand about buzzers. P’raps the upper classes don’t have them,” said Ali.

  “I hope you’re not going to shame me and make embarrassing remarks like that in front of him,” Emma said severely. “Look, come into the sitting-room, for heaven’s sake. You can’t stand about here like a WI committee.”

  They followed her reluctantly and seated themselves, watching the sitting-room door like children waiting for the conjurer. And when Suzanne appeared, her cheeks unexpectedly pink, she behaved like the conjurer, almost waving him in as she announced largely, “Girls, let me introduce Gavin Akroyd!”

  She stepped aside, and Gavin filled the doorway. Even Emma, prepared for his amazing good looks, was stunned by the sight of him – for he was smiling! Not just a small, polite quirk of the lips, either, but a full, open and friendly smile. It made him look even more handsome; she wondered he didn’t know that, and make more use of it.

  “Now, let me introduce everyone,” Suzanne said quickly, with a proprietorial air, as though afraid someone else might get there first. “This is Alison – she works at Sartoriana, d’you know it? In Bond Street. Yes, I thought you might. And this is Rachel – she’s a teacher.” By the tone of her voice, she might just as well have said ‘She’s only a teacher.’ “And this is Emma – oh, silly of me, of course you know Emma.”

  “Not as well as I hope to,” Gavin said, which effectively silenced her for the next ten minutes. He said hello to the others, and went on, “I hope I’m not barging in on you. I expect this kind of thing is a bit of a nuisance. What’s the film like, any good?”

  He was all pleasant smiles as he advanced into the room, looking as though he only wanted an invitation to sit down and take his shoes off with the rest of them. Suzanne and Alison both answered at once, clashed and stopped each other, and Rachel filled the gap by saying, “Can I offer you a cup of tea, Mr Akroyd? I was just going to make one.”

  “Oh, Gavin, please. Yes, I’d love one, if it’s no trouble.”

  He sat down on the sofa. Rachel went to put the kettle on, and the other two sat down nearby, perched well forward on their seats, and fixed him with eager expressions.

  “I was just telling Gavin that my firm did the decorations for his house,” Suzanne said, getting the name off with telling ease.

  “It was a very nice job, from what Mrs Henderson told me,” Gavin said. “She’s the housekeeper. It’s mostly her and Dad who use the London house. I haven’t seen it, actually, since it’s been done.”

  “Nor has Suzanne,” Alison said nastily.

  “No, but I’ve seen the plans and the samples,” Suzanne said, colouring. “You live in the country, then?” she asked Gavin hastily, to cover her retreat.

  “When I’m home. I’m away a lot, though not as much as Dad.”

  “What do you do?” Alison asked. “I suppose you’re going to inherit the family business?”

  Emma frowned at her, thinking it sounded rude, but Gavin didn’t seem upset.

  “Yes, but that sounds a bit feudal. I didn’t want to take a seat on the Board without knowing anything about the business, so when I finished at university I went and worked for a time at each of the plants, to get to know the processes from the ground up. And then I went on a management training course, partly here and partly in Brussels. Dad didn’t like the idea, but I told him someone had to understand what was going on in Europe, and he said in that case it had better be me. He hates the whole idea of Europe.”

  Emma couldn’t get over the difference in him. Before long Suzanne and Alison were sitting back and relaxing, and conversation was flowing easily. Rachel brought in tea and the remains of her cake, and they all chatted about such diverse subjects as films, restaurants, the merits of streaming in schools, whether mugs were preferable to cups, rail privatisation, and which cars gave the best performance on country roads.

  Emma joined in very little, preferring to listen and observe. There wasn’t a hint of coldness or stiffness about him. What had wrought the miracle? Could it be that he felt at ease here, whereas at home he felt constrained? Or was he like this with everyone except her? Maybe she brought out the worst in him. Well, she had started off by mocking and teasing him; but then he’d started off by freezing and snubbing her. Perhaps they were doomed to rub each other up the wrong way, she thought gloomily.

  He seemed to have settled in for the duration, but she knew the contents of the communal larder, and didn’t want the girls to have to ask him (and her) to stay and eat, so at last she interrupted. “Don’t you think we ought to get going?”

  For an instant Gavin actually looked disappointed; then he looked at his watch and his expressi
on registered concern. “I didn’t realise it was as late as that! Yes, we better had make a move.”

  “You must come again,” Suzanne said quickly. “Any time you’re passing.”

  “Yes, any time,” Alison added. “No need to ring first – just drop in. You’re always welcome.”

  Oi, what about me? Emma thought. Can I come again? But she was as moon to sun, as far as her friends were concerned, with Gavin Akroyd in the room.

  They said prolonged goodbyes standing in the hall, and then at last Gavin picked up her bags and they were off. As they drove away along Muswell Hill Road, Gavin said quietly, “What fun it must be, living in a flat like that.”

  “I’m sorry?” Emma said, wondering if she had heard him right.

  He hesitated, as if not sure whether to go on or not; and then he said, “I envy you, living in a flat like that. The freedom. The friendship. The good times you must have had.”

  “Well – yes,” she said, thinking it an odd comment. Hadn’t he had fun like that? “Surely you shared a flat when you were at university?”

  “No,” he said. “I stayed at home and commuted in. I went to Cambridge, you see.”

  “Oh. Nice,” Emma said blankly.

  He glanced sideways at her. “I went to Cambridge so that I could commute,” he said. “With Dad away so much, he wanted me at home to take care of things.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Emma. That seemed rather unfair, denying him the usual student jollies, putting responsibility on him so young. “But I suppose it was nice for you to be at home, in a way,” she said, “with your brothers and sisters.”

  He didn’t answer at once, and then he said, “I’m very fond of Poppy.”

  “She’s a very sweet kid,” Emma answered at once; but reflected afterwards that his comment had been remarkable for what it didn’t say. She thought of Atkins’s words: Him and Lady Susan have never got on and There’s no love lost between him and Zara. To be made perpetually responsible for a family you didn’t like must have been a burden indeed. She felt sorry for him.

  “Tell me about your family,” he said after a bit; and there was nothing she was happier doing. The atmosphere grew warmer and more lively. When she had told him something of her life, she slipped in a question or two about his. He told her about his love of the countryside: described solitary walks along the beach at Aldeburgh; birdwatching at Dunwich; sitting up all night in the forest watching for badgers; riding through the deep Suffolk lanes; sailing on the Orwell; hunting on crisp winter mornings. Through his words she was transported to a world so different from hers in London that it sounded like an Arthurian legend, a magical place of improbable beauty.