Storm In A Rain Barrel

by Anne Mather

  ‘Good God!’ he exclaimed, swallowing the remainder of his drink in a gulp. ‘What in the devil’s name have you been doing to yourself?’

  Domine turned slowly. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I haven’t done anything to myself.’

  ‘All right, then, split hairs,’ he grunted moodily. ‘I mean that dress! Great-Uncle Henry would never have spent his money on anything like that!’

  ‘James, for goodness’ sake, what is going on?’ called his mother’s petulant voice from the dining-room. ‘Is Domine down yet?’

  ‘Yes, Mother,’ James’s tone was resigned as he looked at Domine with brooding blue eyes. ‘What is this all about?’ he asked, in a low tone. ‘What has brought on this urge for a mini-rebellion?’ He chewed his lip. ‘I hope you didn’t misconstrue what happened this morning—’

  Domine, who had been maintaining her composure with difficulty, now turned scarlet. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Mannering!’ she snapped, and turning she flounced rather jerkily into the dining-room.

  James followed her after a few moments, but now Melanie’s alert gaze had appraised Domine’s appearance and she raised her eyebrows in surprise.

  ‘Well, well,’ she said mockingly. ‘The cuckoo is beginning to sprout wings. And so quickly, too!’

  Mrs. Mannering compressed her lips. ‘Really, what are you talking about, Melanie? Domine, are you all right? You look almost feverish!’

  Melanie seemed to find the whole situation vastly amusing. ‘Your son’s—er—protégé has modernized her appearance, Aunt Geraldine,’ she remarked sardonically. ‘I wonder why?’

  Domine clenched her fists. ‘All I’ve done is shorten the skirt of this dress, Mrs. Mannering,’ she protested hotly. ‘Good heavens, does everyone have to make a federal case out of it?’

  Mrs. Mannering glanced at her son doubtfully. ‘No one’s making any kind of case out of it, my dear,’ she said, rather tautly. ‘But I would be interested to learn why you should have done such a thing.’

  Domine’s colour deepened. ‘Everyone keeps telling me I’m only a teenager,’ she exclaimed. ‘Very well, then, Lily’s a teenager, too, and her skirts are short!’

  ‘I see.’ Mrs. Mannering twisted her wedding ring round her finger. James Mannering seemed deep in thought. He had apparently helped himself to another drink and now sat swirling the liquid round in his glass with assumed concentration. Melanie was drinking her soup with obvious enjoyment, and Domine realized she was really appreciating the lighter aspects of the situation.

  ‘You must understand that your position in this household is much different from that of Lily Manvers,’ Mrs. Mannering said eventually.

  Domine frowned. ‘I know that.’

  ‘Very well then, just because Lily chooses to dress in a rather—how shall I put it?—common manner, there is no reason why you should do the same.’

  Melanie finished her soup and pushed her plate aside. ‘What’s wrong, Aunt Geraldine?’ she taunted lightly. ‘Afraid of the competition?’

  Domine was beginning to realize that in this instance she had an ally in Melanie, and she wondered why. She didn’t imagine that Melanie’s opinion of her had changed during the course of a morning, but by siding with Domine Melanie was, in some way, getting back at her aunt for her earlier digs at herself.

  James Mannering looked bored in the extreme, and interrupting them, he said quietly: ‘I have some work to do this afternoon. Is the typewriter still in the study, Mother?’

  ‘Yes, dear.’ His mother frowned. ‘Surely you’re not going to write here, James!’

  He gave a sardonic shake of his head. ‘There’s not much chance of that with you two rowing all the time,’ he remarked dryly. ‘Just don’t make Domine another excuse for your petty bickering!’

  Domine glanced at him, finding his eyes upon her, but there was no warmth in them, and she realized with a sense of depression that he was merely speaking on her behalf out of politeness.

  Suddenly Lily appeared, looking rather agitated. ‘Excuse me, sir,’ she said, addressing James Mannering, ‘but a visitor has arrived for you.’

  James looked up sharply. ‘Who? Did you tell them I was here?’

  ‘Of course she did, darling,’ drawled a lazy voice, a voice which to Domine sounded vaguely familiar. ‘And why not? You are here, aren’t you?’

  James got to his feet, and Domine swung round to see one of the most beautiful young women she had ever seen in her life standing in the doorway to the lounge. She was dressed in a midi-length coat of jade green with an edging of silver fur at the collar and hem. A silver fur hat adorned her blonde head, while she carried a silver muff. She wore knee-length boots of soft black leather, and carried herself with style and elegance. Certainly, she presented an incongruous picture among Great-Uncle Henry’s Victoriana, thought Domine, wondering why the sight of her should arouse such a sense of antipathy inside her.

  James went to meet her, but his voice was cold and there was no enthusiasm in his greeting. Then he turned. His mother was standing, too, now, and Domine observed a look of real pleasure on her face before James said:

  ‘Domine, this is Yvonne Park. You remember? You spoke to her on the telephone at the flat. Yvonne, this is my ward, Domine Grainger.’

  His method of introduction was not lost on Mrs. Mannering, and her eyes hardened when she looked into her son’s bored countenance. Then, she moved forward welcomingly, smiling warmly.

  ‘My dear Yvonne,’ she enthused. ‘How lovely to have you call so unexpectedly. I didn’t even know you were in Yorkshire. James never said anything. The last I heard you were in London.’

  Yvonne’s eyes flickered. Apart from a polite smile at Domine, which was supposed to encompass Melanie too, she ignored them completely, concentrating her whole attention on James Mannering and his mother.

  Under cover of their conversation, Melanie glanced meaningly at Domine. ‘Yvonne Park of Park Textiles,’ she murmured, in an undertone. ‘Can’t you see Aunt Geraldine almost genuflecting?’

  Domine frowned. ‘I thought—’ She halted. ‘Mr. Mannering wouldn’t speak to her when she rang the apartment in London,’ she whispered.

  Melanie shrugged. ‘That doesn’t surprise me. He’s been trying to shake her off his back for months. But Aunt Geraldine is a stayer, I’ll say that for her, and she’s determined to make her son part of the Park millions!’

  Domine looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’ she breathed.

  Melanie sighed. ‘My aunt is an ambitious woman, and right now she’s involved in the biggest deal of her life. Yvonne is to be the future Mrs. James Mannering.’

  Domine stared at her. ‘I see,’ she murmured faintly, glancing round at the group by the door. She realized that Melanie was biased and that there was no love lost between her and her aunt, but in this case she seemed to have a point. Mrs. Mannering had been delighted at the unexpected arrival of their guest, and if James’s reaction had been less enthusiastic who could tell what that really meant? She sighed. What did it matter anyway? In six months she would be free of this family and its intrigues for good!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MRS. MANNERING insisted that Yvonne joined them for lunch, and during the course of the meal Domine gathered that although Yvonne had an apartment of her own in London, her parents’ home was not far from Hollingford, within reach of her father’s textile mills at Bradford.

  Domine spent the whole meal covertly studying Yvonne’s fragile appearance, wondering how James Mannering could fail to be attracted by such perfection. Under the midi coat, Yvonne was wearing a white sheath dress of a woollen material that clung lovingly to the moulded lines of her figure, revealing rather than concealing her obvious attractions. Her hair was a mass of blonde curls, while her complexion was the kind of peaches and cream complexion Domine had read about in magazines, the achievement of which was every Englishwoman’s dream. Domine recalled her own olive skin with dislike, and decided with resignatio
n that she would never be able to accomplish such a standard of excellence.

  The only jarring note so far as Domine could ascertain was Yvonne’s rather shrill speaking voice, which while possessing no trace of an accent nevertheless had none of the huskiness one would have expected. But, Domine reflected philosophically, voices didn’t have to be so important, and as Yvonne grew older no doubt her tone would deepen.

  When the meal was over, Mrs. Mannering suggested that they all adjourned to the lounge, but James shook his head firmly.

  ‘I told you, Mother, I have some work to do this afternoon,’ he averred with just the right amount of polite reluctance in his voice.

  Mrs. Mannering compressed her lips irritably. ‘Surely you don’t intend to neglect your guest by working, James,’ she deplored.

  James gave a small smile. ‘Unfortunately, I have no choice,’ he replied, pushing back his chair lazily. ‘Besides, Yvonne is well aware of the demands of a writer’s life!’ Domine thought she sensed a trace of sarcasm in his tone.

  Yvonne plucked nervously at a crease in the damask tablecloth. ‘I should have thought the amount of work you appear to have been doing at the apartment would have freed you for some time,’ she remarked pointedly.

  James’s smile was not very pleasant, and Domine wondered how Yvonne could stand the barely concealed insolence of his manner.

  ‘Well,’ he said, getting to his feet, ‘it just shows how mistaken one can be. Now—if you’ll all excuse me …’

  He glanced round the table, his eyes lingering for a moment on Domine’s wide-eyed expression, and then he turned and left the room. After he had gone, there was an awful empty silence until Mrs. Mannering said apologetically:

  ‘Oh, Yvonne, I’m so sorry, but you know what James is like when he’s working! He’s just impossible to live with.’

  Yvonne shrugged her slim shoulders, and opening her cigarette case she extracted a long American cigarette and lit it with the attached lighter. Then, after several jerky puffs, she said: ‘Well, Geraldine, I don’t think there’s much point in my hanging around here—’

  ‘That’s right!’ That was Melanie, leaning back in her chair and regarding Yvonne with deprecatory eyes.

  Yvonne chose to ignore her intervention, and went on: ‘I did promise to call on the Hamiltons today, too, so I think I’ll leave James to his—er—composing!’

  ‘Oh, Yvonne! Must you go?’ Mrs. Mannering linked her fingers and unlinked them again. ‘I’m sure James doesn’t expect you to desert us like that. You could stay and have dinner with us. James will be finished working by then and possibly you two could go for a drive together.’

  Yvonne’s small teeth caught her lower lip. Then she said: ‘Well, I don’t know.’ She hesitated. ‘I don’t want to impinge on James’s privacy. I know he seeks solitude when he comes to Grey Witches, but as I was passing …’ She let the sentence trail away. Then she sighed. ‘But if you really think he’ll be finished by dinner time …’

  ‘I’m sure of it!’ exclaimed Mrs. Mannering eagerly.

  ‘Then—all right, I’ll stay.’ Yvonne smiled and relaxed in her chair.

  Melanie thrust back her own chair and got to her feet. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, with exaggerated politeness, and walked out of the room.

  Mrs. Mannering smiled after her retreating back and then turned to Yvonne, raising her dark eyebrows expressively. ‘Poor Melanie,’ she said. ‘She does feel at such a disadvantage while you’re around, Yvonne!’

  Yvonne preened herself under Mrs. Mannering’s flattery, and Domine felt that she too had had enough. Rising, she said: ‘If you don’t want me for anything, Mrs. Mannering, I’ll go and take a look around outside.’

  Mrs. Mannering studied her for a moment. ‘Yes, very well, Domine,’ she agreed. ‘I’m sure you’re quite used to entertaining yourself.’

  Domine smiled an assent, and then went out of the dining-room, through the lounge, and into the hall. Only then did she realize she had been holding her breath and expelled it in a long whistle. Thank goodness, she thought, with relief, and collecting her coat she went out of the side door which she, Melanie and James had used that morning.

  It was quite chilly, but wonderfully fresh, and buttoning her collar she thrust her hands into her pockets and walked round to the rear of the building where the stables were housed. Now that she had more time to take in her surroundings she could see that there was quite a collection of outbuildings, and a man was swilling out what appeared to be a kind of animal run. There was no sign of Melanie, but as Domine stood there, shivering a little in the wind, the girl appeared from around the corner of the barn carrying a bucket in one hand and a broom in the other.

  ‘Well, well!’ she remarked. ‘Fancy seeing you here!’

  Domine sighed, compressing her lips, and then she walked forward. ‘I—I wondered if there was something I could do,’ she ventured awkwardly.

  Melanie stared at her. ‘Are you serious?’ Her expression was frankly incredulous.

  ‘Of course I’m serious,’ said Domine, nodding. ‘Mrs. Mannering explained about the shortage of staff, and I thought I might be able to do something.’

  ‘Is this her idea?’ asked Melanie suspiciously.

  ‘No, it’s mine,’ retorted Domine. ‘I may look useless, but I can assure you we had to work quite hard at the convent. We weren’t run after hand and foot. We had to make our own beds, and keep our rooms tidy, and every week we had to clean out the dining hall and the common room.’

  Melanie smiled wryly. ‘This is a little different,’ she said consideringly. ‘Do you mind getting your hands dirty?’

  Domine smiled. ‘No. In fact, I think I’d rather like it,’ she confessed.

  Melanie shrugged. ‘Well, on your own head be it! But if James grumbles about this, don’t say it was my idea!’

  ‘I won’t!’ agreed Domine, and with a half-friendly laugh, Melanie led the way into the barn.

  During the course of the afternoon Domine found that Melanie could be quite an entertaining companion. Her dry wit which had previously been spitefully directed against herself was now pointed towards the tasks they had to tackle, and after Domine had fallen down on the slippery swilled floor of the cow-shed, scraped her hands and knees cleaning out the hen-house, and finally inadvertently locked herself in the stall with the bull, they had forgotten their previous antagonism.

  It was quite late when Domine left Melanie to lock up, and returned to the house. Going up to her bedroom, she surveyed the picture she made with some amusement. There was straw in her hair, and her hands and face were dirty, while her shoes, which she had carried up the staircase, were thick with mud and manure.

  Stripping off, she took a hot bath, then dressed for dinner. She had no time to alter any of her clothes for evening wear and she had to be content with wearing a dark red crêpe skirt that was almost as long as Yvonne’s midi coat, and another of her white shirt-blouses. Actually, though, once she was ready it didn’t look at all bad, the bright colour suiting her dark complexion.

  Her hair depressed her most. The plait was so childish and chunky, and on impulse she undid it and left it loose. But that didn’t suit her either. It was too long and it had no style. Rummaging in her drawer, she brought out a red chiffon scarf one of the girls had given her last Christmas and tied her hair back with that, but after a few moments she discarded it also. Then she heard Lily calling that dinner was ready.

  With hasty fingers she had to re-plait her hair again, and then run down the stairs because she was so late. They were all seated at the dinner table, everyone that is, but James Mannering. He was not about and Domine could only assume from the tightness of his mother’s mouth that they had had another of their confrontations.

  ‘You’re late,’ Mrs. Mannering said now, sharply, glancing in Yvonne’s direction almost sympathetically. Then her expression hardened again, as it rested on Domine. ‘You were late for breakfast, and you were late for lunch. Is it too much to expect
that you should be on time for a meal?’

  ‘This isn’t a hotel, Aunt Geraldine,’ Melanie interposed, with sweet sarcasm. ‘If you want everyone to toe the line, you’ll have to start banging a gong five minutes before the meal is served!’

  Mrs. Mannering looked contemptuously at her niece. ‘Thank you, Melanie, for your advice, but I don’t think a little punctuality is unreasonable, do you, Yvonne?’

  Yvonne seemed to be in a bad mood, for all she said was: ‘At least unpunctuality is better than complete absence!’ in a cold voice.

  Mrs. Mannering heaved a sigh. ‘Yes, I know, and I’m terribly sorry, Yvonne. I wouldn’t have asked you to stay if I’d thought—’

  Yvonne raised a hand. ‘Spare me any more apologies,’ she snapped shortly. ‘There’s absolutely nothing you can say to placate me!’ She refused the soup by merely shaking her head at Lily as she made to ladle some on to her plate. ‘To think I could have been dining with the Hamiltons! I’m sure Gerald Hamilton wouldn’t expect a guest of his to accept being ignored for the whole day!’

  Melanie grimaced at Domine, and Domine tried not to smile. But it was a warming feeling to realize that this day that had started so badly had ended with her feeling so much less of an outsider. Now it was Yvonne who was the odd one out, and she didn’t like it. Domine wondered what James was doing. Had he gone out? Or was he simply not having dinner?

  ‘Just imagine!’ exclaimed Yvonne petulantly. ‘He actually asked for a tray in his room! If he has to eat, why can’t he eat with us?’

  Melanie shrugged. ‘You’re too much of a distraction, Yvonne,’ she murmured mockingly, and Domine choked over her soup and had to have Melanie thump her on the back.