The Dutch Uncle Page 9

  ‘Playing the perfect hostess.’ The words sounded sarcastic, but his slight smile robbed them of sting. Then he grimaced at the first mouthful, and Tessa’s hand flew to her mouth.

  ‘I’ve mixed them up! You’ve got the one with sugar—’

  ‘And Florence, who likes syrup, has mine. I hope she’s enjoying it.’ His mouth quirked.

  ‘I’m sorry—I’ll bring you another—’

  ‘No.’ He put a detaining hand on her wrist as she reached for the offending tea, and shook his head. She stood there, indecisively, and the silence lengthened. Suddenly aware of his warm grasp, she moved back uncertainly.

  ‘I’d better go down and start breakfast.’

  ‘Yes, I think so, too.’

  Was it her imagination, or was there a hidden meaning in his words? Tessa. grabbed the cup and retreated hurriedly from that dark, rather sardonic gaze.

  A crisp sizzling and an appetizing smell wafted from the kitchen. Helen said cheerfully, ‘I hope I’ve done the right thing. I saw the bacon trimmed ready, so I started it, and I’ve put the cereal and fruit juice on the table. We’ll just help ourselves.’ She sliced tomatoes, and added, ‘Five hungry people take a bit of serving when you’re new to housekeeping. I often wonder how mothers of large families ever get anything to eat themselves.’

  There was a great deal of laughter at Meads that morning. Helen had the gift of making the most mundane chores seem like fun and games. But as the time for Christine’s arrival drew nearer Tessa felt her enjoyment beginning to ebb. No matter what Nicholas said, she knew that Christine herself engendered much of the disturbing aura with which she was invariably surrounded.

  ‘I see so little of Bob these days,’ Helen sighed, when they wandered out into the garden after a leisurely lunch. ‘It was a tremendous step up for him when they gave him the new branch at Oxford, but I do miss him.’ She paused, her gentle eyes reflective. ‘I always vowed that I would never tie my children to my apron strings, but at times it’s difficult to sit back and watch, especially when you’re afraid they’re going to make a mistake.’

  ‘Talking about me?’

  ‘Bob!’ Helen sprang to her feet delightedly. ‘I didn’t hear the car.’

  ‘Too engrossed in gossip, Mother.’

  Tessa drew back while the greetings were exchanged, and watched the girl who stood gracefully at Bob Gleadon’s side, her arm linked casually in his. Christine smiled slightly, and leaned forward to allow Helen’s lips to brush her cheek, then the smile tinged with mockery as she turned and proffered her hand to Nicholas.

  As always, Christine looked superb. Tessa unwillingly admitted envy to her secret thought, unable to refrain from mentally comparing her own physical attributes with those of the exquisitely groomed girl whose glossy raven head and parted red lips were raised in a provocatively charming gesture to Nicholas.

  ‘Tessa, meet my son.’ There was a world of pride in Helen’s voice.

  He shook Tessa’s hand gravely, murmuring conventional greetings, and suddenly she realized that he was as innately shy as herself. She began to laugh, infecting him, and the initial constraint was broken. The others were drifting towards the house, Nicholas and Christine together, Florence limping beside Helen, and John Gleadon supporting her.

  ‘I suppose we’d better go in.’ Bob’s eyes were shadowed, their gaze following the slim, rose-clad figure talking animatedly to Nicholas, and Tessa experienced a pang of compassion for him. Suddenly she was certain she knew Christine’s secret intention.

  This was to be the weekend of renunciation; and a triumphant reconciliation.

  It seemed that Tessa’s dramatic surmise might prove to be not entirely without foundation. Christine monopolized Nicholas’s attention during , the rest of that uneasy Saturday with a blatant disregard for either courtesy towards her companions or consideration for the man who was her escort.

  And Nicholas ... Did that grave deference with which he regarded Christine mask an impatience for the weekend to be over; for an end to indecision, and a new beginning? Tessa sighed. Whatever the outcome of the weekend, it seemed certain that it would bring unhappiness to someone. If only it were not to Nicholas.

  The insistent ringing of the phone recalled her. She listened a moment, then when it became apparent that nobody else was going to answer it she turned off the heat under the pan of milk for coffee and hurried to the study. She picked up the receiver and gave the number, noting idly as she did so that someone —probably Nicholas—had moved the swan on to a small console table near the bookcase.

  ‘Is that you, Tessa? Dennis here.’

  ‘Yes.’ A chill crept into her voice. ‘Do you want to speak to Nicholas?’

  ‘No—I want to talk to you, Tessa. Listen ... I’m terribly sorry about last week. I’ve been meaning to ring you all week to apologize.’

  Tessa was silent. Dennis was the last person she wanted to speak to at that moment.

  He went on hastily, ‘I expect you guessed I was a bit squiffed. When I found you’d gone, and Nick turned up looking like a thundercloud—just to cap everything—I realized I’d made a botch-up of things and upset you. I’d wanted to console you—after what had happened. But it didn’t turn out that way exactly,’ he concluded awkwardly.

  ‘It didn’t,’ she said coldly.

  ‘Anyway, I hope you’ll forgive me,’ he said, sounding so sincere and contrite that Tessa’s heart began to soften. ‘As a matter of fact,’ he added, ‘I was a bit despondent myself that night, of it probably wouldn’t have happened.’ Responding to Dennis, she did not hear the light footfalls behind her, then she glanced round, startled, to see Christine tiptoeing past her.

  ‘Left my bag in here,’ she mouthed in elaborate pantomime enforced by a pointing forefinger. ‘Sorry to disturb.’

  Tessa watched her cross to the chair where the bag lay, and pick it up. Then she gasped, seeing the bag, now swinging from Christine’s arm, catch the swan and send it spinning to the floor.

  Horrified, she saw its fragile grace shattered on the carpet.

  The receiver dropped from her hand and she took a step forward, then slowly bent to pick up the pieces, trying vainly to match them, while Christine stood shocked and silent.

  ‘It was an accident, Tessa,’ she said, her voice sharp with alarm. ‘You could see it was.’

  ‘Yes,’ Tessa agreed dully, ‘it was an accident. But you could have been more careful—surely you saw the swan?’ Her voice rose sharply. ‘Why didn’t you look where you were going?’

  Tessa shook her head and gazed despairingly at the wreckage. ‘However are we going to tell Nicholas?’ There was a silence, then Christine said softly:

  ‘Need we? Perhaps he’ll assume one of the cats did the damage.’

  Unable to believe Christine was serious, Tessa was speechless for a moment, then anger began to burn in her. ‘Of all the mean, despicable suggestions! How can you suggest such a thing?’ Unable to hide her disgust, she took a step towards Christine. ‘I don’t believe you care,’ she flashed, ‘so long as you don’t have to take the blame.’

  Suddenly Christine smiled.

  ‘What an insufferable little prig you are, Tessa. For heaven’s sake grow up,’ she said with a hint of irritation. ‘How would you like to own up? That’s how schoolgirls express it, I believe.’ She sneered. ‘Even your holier-than-thou mien would quail before Nicholas when, he wears his best schoolmaster manner. Oh, forget it,’ she went on impatiently. ‘Gather up the debris and shove it away somewhere out of sight.’ She took out her handbag mirror and glanced at her make-up. ‘Perhaps you could mend it. You seem as though you might have the patience for that kind of thing.’

  Her anger subsiding and sadness taking its place, Tessa found a large envelope on Nicholas’s desk and started to put in the pieces that once had been a graceful glass swan.

  ‘There’s a bit you’ve missed.’ The toe of Christine’s shoe indicated the tip of a wing. ‘And for goodness’ sake, don’t go
and blurt everything out in front of the Gleadons.’

  ‘You mean you aren’t going to say anything—?’

  ‘Tessa dear, it was an accident.’ Christine’s tone had altered subtly, and Tessa stared, puzzled by the change, as the other girl unobtrusively replaced the receiver which Tessa had left dangling. ‘Don’t look so worried. You can’t be blamed, and I’m sure Nicholas will understand.’

  ‘Nicholas will understand what?’

  The dry voice came from the doorway behind Tessa. Startled, she let the envelope slip through her hands. The faint tinkle of the contents seemed, to Tessa, to shatter the silence as she spun round to face him.

  Moving quickly, he picked up the envelope and glanced inside. His face darkened.

  ‘How did this happen?’ His glance swung between their faces, and Christine stepped towards him and laid her hand on his arm. She looked up pleadingly into his face.

  ‘Please—try not to be furious. Tessa is so dreadfully upset. It was an accident—believe me, darling.’ The endearment was whispered.

  Tessa drew back before his ominous gaze. Then her colour receded as the full implication of Christine’s remarks began to register.

  Aghast, she stammered, ‘But, Nicholas, it was an accident! I—I didn’t—’

  ‘No, Tessa.’ His expression was suddenly weary. ‘It’s too late for recriminations. They won’t restore this.’ He looked down at the envelope and turned away abruptly.

  He went into the small workroom adjoining the study, and Tessa heard the sound of a drawer opening, then closing. He came back and his face was bleak.

  He said, ‘I’d prefer that Mr. and Mrs. Gleadon were not told—yet. It would be the kindest thing in the circumstances.’ He walked out of the room without looking at Tessa, and after a momentary hesitation Christine hurried after him.

  Alone, Tessa stared unseeingly at the open door. The impulse to rush after him and defend herself died as she realized that it was her word against Christine’s.

  And Christine had chosen her word with malign ingenuity.

  A light tap on the door and her name being softly called brought Tessa to instant wakefulness. She pushed back the bedclothes and grabbed her housecoat, calling, ‘Come in,’ as the tap was repeated.

  Christine entered. She smiled charmingly, and Tessa, hastily tying her belt, stared her surprise.

  ‘I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed you, but it seemed the best time to catch you alone.’ Christine paused, her outward expression approaching the nearest to humility that Tessa had yet seen from her.

  Instinctively mistrustful, Tessa indicated a chair and pulled the curtains open before taking a position with her back to the dressing table where she stood silent, waiting for the other girl to explain this highly unusual sociability at eight o’clock in the morning.

  For once Christine seemed at a loss to begin. Meeting Tessa’s unhelpful stare, she recollected herself and said at last: ‘I suppose you haven’t any nail varnish remover you could loan me? I’ve spilt mine.’ Ruefully she extended one hand. ‘I hate chipped lacquer.’

  Somewhat taken aback, Tessa said, ‘Sorry, I don’t use it.’ She tucked the bodice of her housecoat more firmly in place and moved forward, looking pointedly at the door. But Christine remained seated, her gaze thoughtfully examining the wide eyes below dark arched brows, and the soft, vulnerable mouth, now set unsmilingly as the dispassionate gaze dropped and assessed the slim figure under the housecoat.

  ‘You know, you could be quite attractive, darling, if you took more care in emphasizing your best features,’ Christine said lazily, apparently prepared to dally indefinitely.

  ‘Thank you!’ Tessa said, with the minimum of politeness—what did she want?

  ‘I really wanted to thank you for—for not giving me away last night.’

  It was out, and Tessa gasped, her lips forming the obvious question. But Christine shook her head and hurried on:

  ‘I feel the least I can do is explain. Please sit down, Tessa. I promise not to keep you long.’

  Unwillingly Tessa sat on the edge of the bed, beginning to feel perturbed under the other girl’s intent gaze.

  ‘You know, of course, that Nick and I were once engaged?’

  Inwardly Tessa registered protest; she loathed the diminutive. She waited silently, her closed expression giving no hint of her feeling.

  ‘We broke it off after a stupid quarrel, and my pride wouldn’t allow me to admit that Nick was right— my God, he was right!’ Christine brought out a dainty cigarette case and lit a cigarette with movements that betrayed agitation under strict control. ‘Have you any conception of what it’s like in the rag trade? No—I thought you hadn’t,’ at Tessa’s brief negative. ‘The battle to get to the top, and the even more hellish one to stay there.’ Christine inhaled deeply, and her dark eyes were remote. ‘I was fool enough to disbelieve Nick when he told me that marriage and my career wouldn’t mix—not marriage as he envisaged it. But how could I give up the chance of a lifetime? The chance to model for one of the foremost Paris couturiers?’

  ‘Well, I’ve had a year of it,’ she went on bitterly. ‘And I know now what a fool I’ve been.’

  Despite her dislike, Tessa’s expression had imperceptibly softened at the disillusionment revealed in the other’s tone.

  Christine sighed. ‘Last night I realized just what I’d thrown away. And how easily I might have lost Nicholas for ever.’

  The import of the words closed like a band round Tessa’s heart. ‘But Bob,’ she stammered. ‘What about Bob?’

  The red lips curved. ‘Bob was kind, and I needed his kindness. But much as I hate the thought of hurting him, I can’t go on with him. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.’ The soft husky voice compelled Tessa to meet the full impact of that feline stare. ‘And most of all, it isn’t fair to Nicholas. Because he’s still in love with me, even though his pride won’t admit it. And being the upright man of honour he is, well, naturally he can make no move until I’m completely free of entanglements. So,’ she opened her eyes very wide and half smiled, ‘it’s up to me, isn’t it, darling?’

  Tessa looked away, aware of an insinuation of scorn underlying the latter statements, and unable to bear watching the smooth self-assurance in the confident face. Attempting to keep, her tone nonchalant, she asked, ‘Why tell me all this?’

  Christine shrugged. ‘I wanted you to know the setup,’ she returned, her smile amused. ‘Oh, yes, I noticed the wonderment in your eyes as you watched us yesterday. I’m afraid I hadn’t bargained for you landing in Nick’s pocket—so to speak—for all this time. But I’m sure that now you understand the situation you’ll be tactful.’ She stressed the last word. ‘After all, you must admit that it’s a bit awkward for him, but apparently he had no option.’

  So Nicholas had discussed her with Christine! After the odd remarks Dennis had let slip a few weeks ago, which Tessa had not forgotten, it seemed the obvious conclusion.

  Stung, she reverted rudely to school slang. ‘So whenever you choose to blow in like a paper kite I’ve to make myself scarce?’

  Christine chuckled at the vehemence of this outburst. ‘You’ve got the right idea—now we know where we stand. I’m beginning to think you don’t like me very much, do you, sweetie?’ Suddenly her smile faded and her eyes narrowed in a long, considering stare. She stubbed out her cigarette in Tessa’s pin tray, and leaned back before she said thoughtfully:

  ‘You wouldn’t be having ideas of your own regarding Nicholas? You know, I believe that’s it.’

  Tessa turned away abruptly, but the mirror betrayed the rush of colour to her unhappy face.

  Christine said softly, ‘I thought so!’ A warning note sharpened her voice. ‘I’d advise you to forget them. You’ll only get hurt, apart from embarrassing Nick.’

  Tessa’s chin lifted defiantly. ‘I have no intention of being an embarrassment to him. Believe me, the arrangement was not of my making.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I’ve no time to discu
ss the matter further. Is there anything else?’

  Christine stood up, yawning languidly now that she had made her point. ‘I can take a hint. Don’t worry, sweetie, growing pains are the very devil. But you’ll get over them.’ She paused in the doorway. ‘See you later.’

  ‘Alligator!’ muttered Tessa furiously, opening the window and wafting out the cloying traces of Christine’s exotic perfume. Resolutely she tried to banish the unpleasant interchange from her thoughts as she set about organizing her part in the new day. At least the fact that the delay had made her late, entailing a rush to catch up with the morning jobs, helped to prevent her from dwelling on Christine’s frank confidences.

  As the day wore on she sensed the painful barrier of restraint between herself and Nicholas more strongly. Once or twice she was conscious of his glance resting on her, a hint of something very like concern in it, and she forced herself to appear bright and cheerful in the company of their guests.

  Dinner safely over, she retreated to a corner of the lounge, curling up in a chair with her feet tucked under her and the soft comforting warmth of Ming snoozing in her lap. Helen had found a book and was now immersed in a faraway world within its pages, while her husband strove to keep his eyes open as he patiently sought clue five down in his crossword.

  Bob was sprawled on the floor, sorting through records, the glossy, multi-coloured sleeves splashed across the carpet.

  ‘Any requests?’ He smiled around.

  Helen did not look up, and John Gleadon grunted non-committally. Only Christine replied softly:

  ‘You know my favourite, darling.’ She stretched sinuously, her black velvet tapered pants and the jade green blouse of heavy silk with its plunging neckline accentuating her lovely lines with the movement.

  Suddenly Bob held a record aloft, exclaiming, ‘I must put this on for Tessa.’ He went to the record player and the music from Veil of Stars swelled out as he adjusted the controls.

  The nostalgic strains brought a lump to Tessa’s throat, and she turned her face towards the shadows as she listened, unaware that Nicholas had entered and directed a rather surprised glance towards her secluded corner. She shifted uneasily under Ming’s weight when Nicholas strolled across the room and perched casually on the arm of her chair.