Then She Fled Me (7 page)

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Authors: Sara Seale

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His eyebrows
went
u
p.


As much as that? Still, it

s not a very great age, is it?


Quite old enough to run this house and this family. I don

t think you

re going to suit Dun Rury, Mr. Flint.

The
corner
s of his mouth twitched.


Well, you can

t turn me out before the end of the week, you know. I b
o
oked for that period with an option to stay on if I wished.
To clinch the matter, perhaps you

d like my rent in advance. It

s usual in some places, I believe.

“It’s not necessary,” she said loftily. “At least
—”

There was Casey’s bill in again, and if Flint was going to stay they would need more whisky, and possibly more groceries.

“I think we’ll settle it now,” he said, counting notes from his wallet. “Five guineas a week, I think you said, and
the extras

?”


If you want your meals in your room, it will be two guineas extra,

she said firmly. She thought he looked a little surprised and added defiantly:

There

s a lot of work running up and down with trays four times a day.


I

m sure there is, and it will be three, not four. I don

t take tea. Seven guineas in all.


Thank you.

She scooped up the money and stuffed it in her trouser pocket.


A receipt, please.

She stared at him.


A receipt?


It

s usual.


Our other lodger—I mean guest—doesn

t expect receipts. We never bother.


Must unbusiness-like. Bring it to me in the morning.

There was a definite note of dismissal in his voice and he walked over to the table and began rearranging books and papers.

Sarah observed him angrily. He was tall, and had a trick at times of massaging his finger joints, as Aunt Em did when she had rheumatism. Good English tweeds, the sort of shoes Joe could never have afforded, and not a fair hair out of place. She disliked him very much
.


Oh, Miss Riordan
—”
He turned as if expecting to
see her leave the room.

I would like it clearly understood that I wish to be disturbed as little as possible. I quite appreciate that my room must be free at certain times for cleaning, but we can work out a timetable tomorrow. You won

t find me exacting. I simply want to be left alone.

Sarah thought his wish would be shared by everyone. Timetables, indeed!


You made that clear in your letters,

she said stiffly.

I think you said you were ill.


I

m not ill. I had a breakdown several months ago but that

s behind me now.

As he moved back into the circle of lamp light, she saw that he looked very tired, and for a moment his eyes held the same weariness which she had seen in the eyes of country people who had known much bitterness.


I

m glad,

she said softly, and the impression vanished at once.


I shan

t be making calls on either your sympathy or your nursing abilities,

he said with that odd little edge to his voice, and she almost expected to hear him add:

Please do not expect me to respond to your offer of home comforts which I do not require.


What time would you like your supper?

she asked.

We don

t have dinner here.

He glanced at his watch.


In half an hour if that

s convenient, please,

he replied briskly.


Well, I don

t know if Nonie
—”
she began doubtfully.

Anyway,
I’ll
send up some whisky to be going on with.

His eyebrows lifted again.


Is that included in the terms?

he enquired.


Naturally.

He shook his head.


You

ll never make a guest house pay,

he said.


Well
—”
She edged towards the door.

If there

s
nothing more I

ll say goodnight.

He glanced across at her. The whole conversation was utterly ridiculous. How could he deal sensibly with this half-drowned, touchy young creature? Oh, well, he was
very tired. Tomorrow he could sort things out. There must be someone responsible running the house.


Goodnight,

he said more gently.

And in case you think my insistence on solitude ungracious, I must tell you that I

ve come here to work on a book.

He was unprepared for Sarah

s groan of dismay
.


Golly, another!

she exclaimed.

He looked enquiring and slightly surprised.


Have you any objection?

he asked mildly.


No—no, of course not. It

s only—well, the other lodg—guest—writes wee tales for little people. We

ve suffered a lot—finding local color,
you know.


I see.

He smiled faintly.

Well
,
my book

s quite different. It won

t trouble you at all and it wouldn

t interest you, anyway. Goodnight.


Goodnight,

she said again and went downstairs to order Nolan to stoke the furnace properly for the morning baths or she would cut his heart out.

 

CHAPTER
FOUR

Nonie
took his supper upstairs and his breakfast the next morning. Kathy, who was a little alarmed at Sarah

s description of the new guest, decided to keep out of sight until she could meet him with the full support of her family. Sarah

s

Well, that

s one brow you won

t smooth without getting your fingers rapped

had not been encouraging. Danny, who was hopping with curiosity, was obliged to go to school without catching a glimpse of the stranger, and it was Mary from the village who answered the nursery bell when it rang at ten o

clock precisely.


Would you be wantin

anythin?

she asked, eyeing the new boarder with interest.


Only to let someone know I

m ready to have my room done now,

he replied.

Is that your job?


Sure, it

s a
n
nyone

s job,

she answered cheerfully, and at his look of surprise, explained further:

I do Master Danny

s room, he being at school, and Miss Dearlove

s, and Miss Emma gives a hand with a duster, and Miss Sarah, too, when she

s not in the stables. Miss Dearlove makes her own bed, but she

s cranky, that one.

It sounded altogether too social, and he said firmly:

Well, I would be obliged if you would attend to mine at this hour every morning.

Her fine eyes opened widely.


Och, the rooms are done anny time. Will I wisk it around a bit now I

m here?


Er—yes, if you please. I

ll come back in half an hour.

She regarded his retreating back with growing respect. He was not the sort the Miss Kellys had at all.

He turned at the door.


Please don

t touch those cases of records,

he said.

I

ll dust them myself.


Yes, sor,

she said, impressed.

It was Miss Dearlove who took it upon herself to do the honors of Dun Rury. She had been waiting in her room ever since breakfast to listen for sounds from the nursery opposite which would mean he was coming out, and when she was sure he was going downstairs, she caught up one of her many
scarves and followed him. He heard her jingling bangles behind him and turned just as she cleared her throat to address him.


Mr. Flint, I believe?

she said, beaming down on him.


Yes. Are you, by any chance, Miss Riordan

s aunt?

She bridled and came down to join him at the bend in the stairs.


Oh, dear me, no. My name is Dearlove,
Miss
Dearlove. I

m your fellow guest.


Oh, I see. Good morning, Miss Dearlove,

he replied without enthusiasm and stood aside to allow her to pass.


Shall I help you to find your way about the house?

she asked,
remaining where she was.


I don

t think that

s necessary,

he replied.

I

m not coming down for meals, you know.


So I

ve heard, you unsociable man! Still, you will want to know where you can sit, won

t you. The drawing room is not used

—she lowered her voice,

—they

ve
sold
a lot of
things, I believe—typical impoverished Irish family, you know. The library

s reserved for visitors, but the family use the snug, the room under yours, and of course I do, too— so much more friendly, don

t you think, to live as family.

All the time she was talking she was descending the stairs and he was obliged to follow her, but when they reached the hall he said firmly:


I shall not be living as family, Miss Dearlove. I made that quite clear before I came here.

She shook a roguish finger at him.

Unsociable creature,

she said.

But of course you

ve been
ill,
and then I mustn

t forget your
wo
rk
,
though I never allow mine to turn me into a recluse—so bad for one

s
mind.
No stimulation of ideas or imagination.


Quite,

he said hurriedly.

I

m just going to get a breath of air outside.

A very sensible idea,

she approved.

I

ll come with you, if I may. I can show you the ropes and give you some little hints. I always think one

s first day in a strange environment is a little
trying
.


Very,

he agreed laconically, but he could do no less than open the front door for her to precede
him
out of the house.


Shall we sit here?

she suggested, indicating a, wooden seat on the terrace.

It

s still quite warm in the sun and the view of the lough is quite beautiful.

Yes, he thought, the lough was beautiful, and if he kept his eyes on that he might be able to control his rising irritation. There were things it was necessary for him to learn about the household, and he might as well hear them from Miss Dearlove as anyone else.


Now,

she said, settling herself on the seat,

tell me all about your book. What are you writing?

He frowned. He had no desire to discuss his work.

It

s a purely technical job. I

m not a writer by profession,

he replied briefly.


You knew, of course, I was a writer?

she said, rearranging her fluttering scarf.


Wee tales for little people,

he replied absently.


Oh, you

ve
heard
of me!

she exclaimed, moving closer.

Perhaps you

ve given my little stories as Christmas presents to nephews and nieces—or perhaps you have children of your own?


I

m not married,

he said shortly. Really, the woman was impossible. He thought of Sarah saying:

We

ve suffered a lot,

and smiled in sudden sympathy.

Miss Dearlove misunderstood the smile, and said archly:


But there

s
someone
in your life, I suspect. Am I right?

Adrian Flint was not a patient man, and since his breakdown small things had tended to irritate him with disconcerting suddenness. He turned and looked at her, and she, like Sarah, was aware of the coldness of his face, but, unlike her, guessed at a temper only controlled by the outward chill.


Mis
s
Dearlove,

he said with frozen courtesy.

I have no interest in other people

s affairs, and I do not expect them to have any in mine, but for your information, I am not married, engaged to be married, or interested in any woman whatsoever. Now, if I might ask
you
one or two questions, I will then take a walk round the garden and return to my room.

Miss Dearlove flushed, a deep, unbecoming red, and began to stammer.


Oh, I didn

t mean to
pry
...
please don

t think
...
I

m sure I never
...”


Quite. Now, perhaps you

d tell me who really has the running of this place, and with whom one deals over matters of bills and any mundane thing that may crop up.


Sarah.

Miss Dearlove still sounded a bit breathless.

He frowned.


But she

s a child. I understood there was an aunt.


Oh, there is. But you won

t find Miss Emma at all helpful. She leaves everything to Sarah, they all do, and I rather gather Miss Emma has been given a home here—since the father died, you know. She has no official position. There are lawyers, of course, who look after their affairs. The s
o
n is a
charming
young man and is very much in love, poor boy.


Danny Riordan?

Quite recovered now, she gave a little ripple of laughter.

Oh, dear me, no! Danny

s only ten. I was speaking of Joe Kavanagh who is expected to marry the eldest girl.


Would that be Miss Sarah Riordan?

He sounded amused.


No no, Sarah

s the second child. But of course you haven

t met Kathy yet.
Quite
a different cup of tea, Mr. Flint, gentle, feminine, and quite, quite lovely. The typical Irish beauty, you know.


Really?

He did not sound particularly interested.


Even
you
, Mr. Flint, will have to admit that Kathy Riordan is what most young men dream about,

she said with faint acidity.

He recognized the thrust and said more gently:


I can see that she has made one conquest in yourself, Miss Dearlove.


Kathy could conquer the world with that beauty,

she said and sighed.

But what chance does she get, buried
alive here? Joe is a nice young man, but for Kathy
—”

The sound of five-finger exercise
came suddenly from the
house behind them, and Adrian looked up quickly.

Who

s that?

he asked.


One of Kathy

s, little pupils. They come from the farms and cottages, you know, more for their parents

ideas of apeing their betters

accomplishments than anything else, I imagine.


You mean she teaches the piano?


Oh, not in the
broadest
sense of the word, of course. It

s just a little gesture but it brings in a few shillings a week, that is, when they remember to pay. Are you fond of music, Mr. Flint? Oh, of course, you brought a gramophone with you. You must hear Kathy play. She has a very pretty, touch, a very pretty touch indeed.

She thought he did not look pleased. Perhaps he was unmusical, but if so, why take a gramophone and cases of records about with one? Unless
...
but no, he did not look the type for boogie-woogie.


Here is Miss Emma,

she said, as Aunt Em came vaguely round a
corner
of the house carrying a basket.

I must introduce you. Miss Emma, this is Mr. Flint, our new guest—Miss O

Neill.

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