Sweet Sanctuary (17 page)

"And she isn't going to die and leave me in possession of Sanctuary if she can help it," Sylvia said astutely.

Kate half smiled, then sobered quickly as she met Sylvia's cool stare. "I wouldn't know about that."

"Oh, I think you have a pretty shrewd idea of the situation," Sylvia drawled. "You've been pretty lucky so far—Nick would have got rid of you at the start if he hadn't been a soft-hearted fool, and then the old lady got ill and made you indispensable. Odd, that, isn't it? Providential, one might say."

Kate gave her a wide-eyed look without answering. Sylvia glared at her.

"I suppose you think that the old lady is really fond of you? Nick certainly believes it." Sylvia smiled unpleasantly. "But I know better. The only thing in this world that matters to her is Sanctuary, and she would use any weapon to keep the house out of my hands. You're just a tool to her. If you had any pride you- would find that distasteful. But you haven't any pride, have you? Just an instinct for finding a comfortable nest and settling down in it. Well, I'll put a stop to that. You can resign as soon as you like. If you don't, I'll save you the trouble!"

She turned on her heel and walked away, her blonde head held high. Kate watched her, drained of all emotion save a sick sense of disgust at the cruelty of which human beings are capable when self-interest dictates it.

It was not so much Sylvia's threat of getting rid of her that hurt. It was the idea that Aunt Elaine had merely used her as a tool.

And what of Nick? He, as much as herself, was merely the means to an end for Sylvia. Sylvia needed Nick if she was to possess Sanctuary. But did she love him? Kate had seen them together, seen Sylvia look at him with something of the acquisitive hunger with which she looked at the house. Was that all it was? Or did Sylvia in her own way love Nick?

In any case, Kate told herself firmly, it's none of my business. Nick and Sylvia must sort their own affairs out. I have to face the fact that I have no place here. Once Mrs. Butler is on her feet again I must go. That afternoon she was scrubbing a piece of harness, which had been left untouched for years in a corner of the stable, when someone knocked loudly on the back door.

"Come in," she called, expecting a tradesman. A small, slightly grubby face peered round the door and Kate stared in surprise. A boy of about eight inserted himself gradually, revealing an open-necked blue shirt and shabby blue jeans. Clutched to his small middle was a large hutch. Inside it a black and white rabbit sat, twitching nose and whiskers.

"Hallo," Kate said invitingly. "Who are you?"

"Kevin Nunn," the boy said hoarsely. "Well, come on in and put your friend down," Kate told him in a friendly tone.

He stumbled across the floor and placed the hutch, with reverent care, on the floor.

"Will you give him a home?" He stood up, looking at her with pleading, desperate eyes. "Why does he need one?" Kate asked.

"My mother had to go into hospital and my granny says she can't look after Robby as well as Dad and me. She said he must go. I thought you'd take him until Mum comes home again. I'll come back for him, honest!" He looked at her, lips trembling. His hand came out, at the same time. In the palm were clutched a handful of coins. "I brought money for his food. He doesn't eat much—he likes carrot and dandelions best."

Kate pushed his hand away. "Keep your money, Kevin. We have plenty of fresh vegetables in our garden. Bring Robby through into the stables and we'll pick out a nice warm place for his hutch."

He flushed with relief. "Thanks! I don't know what I'd do if I had to give him up for good,"

He followed her through the garden to the stables. They decided on an empty stall which would give Robby fresh air and protection from the weather at the same time, and when Kevin had seen his pet safely installed, and fed him a small piece of bread and a few lettuce leaves, Kate offered to show him some of the other animals.

He was eager to see them. "Donkeys! You are lucky! I've always wanted a donkey. Robby was the first pet I was allowed to have—I've had a goldfish since Robby came, but the goldfish died. There wasn't much fun in him anyway. He just blew bubbles all day."

She laughed. "I know what you mean."

"Haven't you got any dogs?" he asked her, staring at the horses and donkeys with fascinated eyes.

"Yes, they're around somewhere. We let them run free inside the grounds."

"How many have you got?"

She told him about the dogs while he was stroking the donkeys. Patient and gentle, they let him come up close and finger their long ears. The horses nuzzled Kate, and Kevin laughed.

"Why are they pushing you like that?"

"They're looking for apple or sugar." She pulled out of her pocket a handful of sugar lumps, and handed them to Kevin. "Feed them these—they'll be your friends for life."

He looked a little nervously at the horses' teeth, and she showed him how to hold his palm flat beneath the loose-lipped animals' mouths.

Delicately, they snuffled up the sugar. The little boy giggled helplessly.

"It tickles! Can I give them some more?"

"No, one lump is enough. Too much is bad for them." She turned and saw the dogs streaking across the park. Kevin saw them, too, and gasped with excitement.

They met the dogs at the edge of the kitchen garden. Gambolling playfully, the three animals greeted Kevin with curiosity and noisy excitement. Kate glanced up at the house and saw Aunt Elaine staring out of a window. She had been drawn by the noise the dogs were making, and waved to Kate to bring the boy into the house.

Kevin was reluctant to leave his newfound friends, but he came upstairs to meet Aunt Elaine, when Kate explained to him that that was the lady who actually ran this delightful paradise for animal-lovers.

"So you have a refugee rabbit, have you?" Aunt Elaine said cheerfully, after Kate had explained his presence at Sanctuary.

He looked nervously at her, clearly half afraid that she would even now withdraw permission for Robby to stay here.

Aunt Elaine winked at him. "Do you know, Robby is my first rabbit? Mind you, there are plenty of wild rabbits in the park—we have to keep an eye on them, because they get into the vegetables if we don't watch out."

"You… you don't shoot them, do you?" he quavered, eyeing her with alarm.

She laughed. "Goodness, no! We just try to keep our garden fences properly wired. The foxes are their main enemy, I'm afraid."

"Foxes?" He stared, eyes like saucers. "Have you got foxes, too?"

"My dear boy, of course! Their dens are well hidden, but I've seen them in the twilight and the early morning, stalking rabbits and birds across the park. A flash of russet fur and they've gone."

Kate discreetly withdrew, leaving Kevin to sink on to the bed absentmindedly, drinking in every word Aunt Elaine said to him.

When she returned later she found them still engrossed in each other. She pointed out that it was getting rather late for Kevin to be out. He lived in the village, a walk of some fifteen minutes away, and his family would be anxious about him if he did not leave soon.

"I told Dad I'd come here," Kevin volunteered. "He said as how it was a chance, but he didn't think you'd be bothered with a rabbit."

When he had gone, Kate took Aunt Elaine a light tea, boiled egg with bread and butter, and a peeled banana with lemon jelly.

"Nursery tea, my dear?" She received a wry, affectionate glance.

Laughing, Kate sat down beside the bed. "I should have brought poor little Kevin some, too, then perhaps you would have eaten it!"

"Are you feeding me up, by any chance?" But Aunt Elaine began to eat her meal, despite her teasing.

"Did I tell you that Nick had showed me the cottage he's bought you?" Kate tried hard to sound casual. "It's rather a charming little place. It would be easy to run. It's been nicely modernised."

"I know the place," came the dry retort. "A neat little box for an old lady."

Kate glanced at her ruefully. "Nick is trying to please you, you know."

"Then he isn't succeeding! Look at this…" Aunt Elaine turned to pick up the silver basket of grapes which Sylvia had brought her. "Expensive, useless, idiotic! It sums up everything about the girl! She's not the person to take care of Sanctuary."

"Whoever Nick married might not be prepared to take on your animals!" Kate tried to make her protest gentle.

"The animals are irrelevant—the house itself is what matters. The house and Nick. Nick needs a warm-hearted, loving girl. He doesn't need Sylvia."

"Surely only Nick can decide that!"

She received a long, close look which made her flush hotly. "Nick knows very well that he's made a mistake. He needs to be helped to escape."

Kate got up stiffly. "I'll take your tray down if you've finished."

Aunt Elaine laughed softly. "Little ostrich!"

Kate did not care to think too deeply about the meaning of that enigmatic remark.

Nick arrived back early, ruffled and untidy after a day on a building site near London. He gave her a broad grin when he came into the kitchen, pushing back his hair from his forehead with the back of his hand.

"I must run up and wash before dinner! I'm a mess. I had a very tiring day."

"Sylvia came to see Aunt Elaine," she told him in a calm voice which she hoped did not betray any feelings either way.

"Oh?" Nick shot her a look. "I hope that that meeting went off all right?"

"They were polite to each other."

"No fireworks?"

"None that I noticed. Sylvia brought her some grapes and was very sympathetic about her illness." Kate tried not to sound ironic. If Nick had no idea how hopeful Sylvia had been, it was not her place to enlighten him.

"Good," Nick said absently, leaving the kitchen.

That evening, for the first time, Aunt Elaine needed no constant scrutiny. She lay reading for an hour or two, then switched out her light, so that when Kate peeped in at nine, there was only the deep steady sound of breathing in the quiet room.

Kate stood listening for a while, relieved and happy. Aunt Elaine was undoubtedly much improved. Her chest and cleared, her health seemed set fair.

She closed the door and slowly walked down the stairs, gradually falling into a melancholy mood. Now she must go. She had no further excuse for staying here. Aunt Elaine no longer needed her, and Nicholas wanted her to go.

She stood in the kitchen doorway, watching his bent dark head. He was reading, his profile turned towards her. He was wearing a pale blue sweater with a deep cowl neckline. It gave him a faintly monastic appearance. The strong chin and warm, firm mouth were relaxed, the dark hair slightly ruffled, curling a little against his neck.

He turned suddenly, sensing her presence. They looked at each other across the shadowy room. Nick smiled, involuntarily, with a tenderness that made Kate tremble and look away.

"I think I'll go to bed," she stammered. "Aunt Elaine is asleep now. She won't need anything else tonight, I'm sure she's really better now. Goodnight, Nick."

He answered absently, watching her as she fled in disarray. His eyes narrowed, his lips tightened. For a long time he stared at the spot where she had stood.

Kate was surprised to find herself falling asleep quite quickly. She had expected to be wakeful for hours. Her thoughts were so painful and so confused that sleep should have eluded her. Her mind was a battlefield, yet her body, exhausted by many nights of sleepless care for Aunt Elaine, demanded that her restless mind give way.

She slept, yet her mind, having so far obeyed her body, was still unable to rest, and her sleep was disturbed by strange, chaotic dreams. Tangled images pursued her through avenues of darkness. Sylvia, offering her a silver basket of grapes, laughed spitefully and pushed her out of the gates of Sanctuary. Aunt Elaine tossed endlessly, flushed and feverish, crying out that she must not die or Sanctuary would fall into Sylvia's grasping hands. Nick looked up, his lashes masking his grey eyes, and Kate felt her heart drop sickeningly with passion.

She was back at home with her aunt in Devon. The sun was warm on her skin. Someone was knocking somewhere. She knew, vaguely, that it was Nick, and she cried out to him to let her go. She had to go, she told him.

Then she sat up suddenly, dream and sleep falling away. There had been a sound, something indefinable but alarming.

She listened, skin prickling. Again it came… it was the creak of a board. On the landing? No, she thought. She knew that sound. It was one of the boards in the hall.

Someone was downstairs, creeping along the hall.

Nick? She looked at the little clock on her bedside table. Nick, creeping about, at two in the morning?

She got out of bed, groping for her dressing-gown, and went quietly out on to the landing. She listened, but nothing moved. A clock ticked somewhere, a stately sound, familiar and comforting. There were no lights anywhere.

Slowly she tiptoed down the stairs. She was almost at the foot of them when she heard someone move in the hall. A clink, as of china, was followed by a strange rustling.

She peered down into the hall. There was someone moving about, a darker shadow in the shadows, Nick? No. Too short, too broad.

She moved to the light switch and clicked it down, light sprang. The dark shadow swung, cursing in a startled, angry voice.

And Kate recognised him—the door-to-door salesman who had been so curious and importunate. He had been bending over the umbrella stand. On the floor near her lay a large holdall. It gaped, displaying some of the contents of the china cabinet: porcelain, silver, a few pieces of ivory.

As she looked at it the intruder ran at her, moving lightly for someone of his bulk. She was taken off guard and let out an instinctive shout. Then, summoning her wits, she screamed again, "Nick—help!"

Before she could scream again a large hand clamped down on her mouth. She was caught by the hair and flung backwards against the wall. Her head smashed against plaster with an impact that sickened her. She groaned and slumped to the floor, pain darkening her eyes.