Then She Fled Me (11 page)

Read Then She Fled Me Online

Authors: Sara Seale

BOOK: Then She Fled Me
8.78Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub


I

m afraid she

s right, dear,

she said.

You haven

t the experience for a boarding house.

Miss Dearlove was on her dignity with everyone for the next day or so, but it was difficult to put the Riordans in their places for they simply
d
id not notice they were in disfavor. Aunt Em with her vagueness of mind had probably forgotten the whole matter, and Sarah continued to behave with that happy indifference to anything which did not directly concern Dun Rury.

Miss Dearlove admitted to herself that the charm of an Irish household was beginning to wear thin. But Kathy could still charm her. They read poetry together and when the girl looked at her with respectful eyes and invited her opinions she remembered again that she was Daisy Dearlove searching for local color, that Irish behavior was quaint, and anything odd or distasteful that occurred was simply typical. By the evening of the second day she had unbent sufficiently to take part in a game of rummy, and afterwards showed her forgiveness by asking Kathy to play some traditional airs for her.

Adrian, reading in his room above, heard the music and frowned irritably. There was something nostalgic and a little melancholy, he thought, about listening to a piano when it was muffled by walls or distance. Just so had he listened as a
s
mall boy to his mother

s piano after a dinner party, and felt lonely and excluded. The tunes had always been the current popular songs and waltzes of the time. They did not move in a musical circle, and he could still remember his father

s horror at his only son

s choice as a career.


Upon my soul, I don

t know where you get this nonsense from! Not from my side of the family; no artistic twaddle ever cropped up there.

The Flints had been sporting squires for generations, with sons destined automatically for the Army, or, in extreme cases, politics. Adrian remembered the outcry when he had announced his intention of leaving Oxford to go instead to Parish and Munich to study the piano seriously. They had given in, of course, He had had sufficient money of his own to make him independent and had been backed by the exceptionally brilliant music master of his public school. But they had never understood, and even when years later his name was established as one of the coming pianists in the country, they still shook their heads and said they could not account for it. His father was dead now, leaving him a very comfortable income, and his mother, who had married again, still lived in the big rambling house in Wiltshire where he had spent so many lonely, unfulfilled holidays. He seldom saw her.

Kathy had broken into the gay lilting refrain of
The Spanish Lady,
and presently an unexpected voice joined in. He put down his book and went over to the open window and leaned out, trying to catch the words.


As I walked down through Dublin City

At the hour of twelve of the night,

Who should I spy but a Spanish lady

Washing her feet by candlelight
...

Her voice was true and clear and possessed a spontaneity that her fingers lacked. He remembered that she had told him that her mother had sung a little, and smiled. It would have been better to have concentrated on the lesser gift, he thought, for, although untrained, she still sang better than she played.

They all joined in the last refrain, ending with a great deal of laughter, and Adrian closed the window and returned to his book.

He had been at Dun Rury three weeks now, and had still not made up his mind
if he would stop on or not. In many ways the place suited him, and he had for so long been indifferent to his surroundings that the minor inconveniences which had annoyed him at first had ceased to worry him, and only Kathy

s piano pupils proved a real source of irritation. Nobody bothered about him, and since their last unfortunate passage of arms, even
Mi
ss Dearlove had kept out of his way. But he was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on his work.

Sometimes he met Kathy or Sarah when he took his morning stroll. Sarah would shout

Hullo

and disappear on some errand. She always seemed to be dancing or running between the house and the stables, he thought with amusement, and came to watch for the leap across the ha-ha which heralded her comings and goings. But Kathy was always disposed to linger, turning and walking at his side,
asking
tentative advice about her pupils, her eyes mutely enquiring if she was in the way. She seemed to have little to do, and he found her desire for his company pleasant and a little touching.


That

s right, keep him sweet, darling,

Sarah exhorted her sister, noting with approval the gentleness in his voice when he spoke to Kathy.

His month

s up at the end of this week, and we can

t afford to
l
ose him.

To Adrian himself, she said when she took up his supper tray
.


Do you think you will stop on with us another month, Mr. Flint?


Why?

he asked, looking up from his book.

Is my room wanted?

She thought she detected the usual edge to his voice, and replied repressively:


No, only if you go we shall have to advertise again.


I see. Further applicants for home comforts?

He was laughing at her, and she adopted what was known in the family now as her landlady

s face.


I

m sorry if we haven

t made you comfortable,

she said, and his eyebrows went up.


I haven
’t
said so, have I? Why are you so prickly?


I don

t know,

she said, becoming herself again.

There must be something about you. I do fly into rages sometimes, but I

m not usually scratchy with people.

He observed her reflectively, and suddenly smiled.


I expect it

s my fault,

he said.

I

m not a very easy person these days.

Kathy, knowing a little of his circumstances, would have seized the opening and shyly made excuses for him, but Sarah
only said:


It will be better when you go back to work again.


Work? You think I

ve been neglecting it of late?


Oh, I don

t mean that

—she gestured impatiently towards the typewriter.

That

s only a stop-gap, isn

t it? It

s not really important. I meant it will be better when you get back to your profession.

For a moment his lids veiled his eyes, and the strong muscles round his mouth tightened as if he resented her intrusion, but he only said:


Yes. I didn

t know your sister sang.


Kathy? She can

t sing a note.


But I heard her the other evening. She was singing
The Spanish Lady.
You all joined in at the end.


Oh,

she said with a gay little upward inflexion,

that wasn

t Kathy, it was me.

He looked surprised, then smiled. He might have guessed that the voice did not match the hands.


How was it you told me you had no talents?

Her mouth tilted up at the
corner
s.


Is that a talent? Anyone can sing traditional songs. You should hear Casey when he

s drink taken, and Finnigan-the-Fish has a fine tenor voice. I know nothing about the music you and Kathy understand.

She became suddenly prim again.

I hope we don

t disturb you when we make a noise in the snug.


Not at all,

he said politely.


Well, you

d better eat your supper, it

ll be cold.

She scanned the tray, exclaimed violently:

Golly! The pepper and salt!

and leapt towards the door.


Never mind,

he laughed.

I can manage without.

But she was back again in a few minutes with the pepper and salt and a pair of his shoes which Danny had forgotten.


My dear Sarah!

he protested, then stopped and added humorously:

My dear Miss Riordan
...

She grinned.


You

d much better call us all by our Christian names, like Miss Dearlove does. So many Riordans are confusing.


I couldn

t possibly address my landlady so informally,

he replied gravely.


Couldn

t you?


Well—it might depend.


On what?


Shall we say on the state of our relationship? When you

re amiably disposed towards me, I shall call you Sarah, but when you

re prickly I shall address you as Miss Riordan which is only fitting.


Oh! And what do I call you when
you

re
prickly?


I

ve no doubt it will be the first thing that comes into your head,

he replied without a
smile.

For the first time she felt she might like him.


You know,

she said, standing on one leg like a stork,

we thought you were going to be old and doddery. Aunt Em even thought you might be bats.


Good gracious me, how alarming! Is that why you put me in the nursery? It was your nursery, wasn

t it?


Yes.

She had often thought how out of place he looked with a background of nursery wallpaper.

I chose it for you because it

s sunny and has the best view. Don

t you like it?


Very much. I have followed Miss Muffet

s adventures with the spider with considerable interest. Sometimes she

s cut in half and runs into Little Boy Blue. Have you noticed?


Have you found the bit where Goldilocks

curls are bright green? Danny did that when he was little, and Nonie was furious.

They laughed, united for a moment in the illusion of a shared childhood.


But tell me,

he said.

Why this preconceived impression of a fretful old dodderer?


Well, your letters sounded elderly and crabby.


Did they? Yours, proffering home comforts, sounded like Miss Dearlove. I nearly didn

t come.


And I, when I got your reply, nearly sent you a telegram telling you not to. Only Joe restrained me.


You see! We both had preconceived ideas. It doesn

t do.


No,

said Sarah meekly.

I

m
sorry if I was rude.


You were very rude for one who was hoping to retain a customer,

he said severely.

He had finished his supper, and she began piling plates and dishes on to the tray.


I suppose I was,

she said.

But you have a high handed manner.


Have I?

He looked surprised.


Yes, you have. I might as well take this tray with me now, then you won

t be disturbed again.


Very thoughtful. Suppose you let me carry it down.


It

s quite unnecessary,

she said.

I

m not a cripple.


Neither, contrary to your expectations, am I.

He took the tray from her, and surveyed her for
a
moment with a quizzical expression.


No wonder you

re so thin,

he remarked.

All this running up and down stairs.


I have long legs,

she informed him seriously, and opened the nursery door for him.

Other books

Joseph J. Ellis by Founding Brothers: The Revolutionary Generation
Dead Reign by Pratt, T. A.
Showdown in Mudbug by Jana DeLeon
Dragon Tears by Dean Koontz
Trans-Siberian Express by Warren Adler
Dancing Backwards by Salley Vickers