Part 52 (1/2)

' she drew a deep breath.

”You do want me back, Sarre?

' His smooth: ”That's entirely up to you, Alethea,” didn't rea.s.sure her

in the least.

All the fight went out of her in the face of his bland impa.s.sive

ness.

”T'll telephone Granny,” she said.

He glanced at her.

”Yes, do, my dear.

I got tickets for the day after tomorrow, but if that doesn't suit you,

I'll get them changed.

' What did it matter when she went?

He didn't want her in his home; she had thought just lately that he liked her a little, not just as the other half of a friendly arrangement between them, but as a girl.

She must have been wrong.

Perhaps it was Anna after all; if it was she wouldn't be able to bear it.

They finished their lunch, talking about nothing that mattered, and she saw him out of the house as she always did when she was home and went back to the sitting room to think.

She would have to discover some way of staying; she had no idea what, but she had two days in which to do it.

The two days came and went.

Alethea had tried several times to talk to Sarre, but somehow he had no time; the telephone rang or he was on the point of going out or he had urgent work to do.

She saw him off to the hospital on the day of her departure, still without having a chance to talk.

But he would be home for lunch; she knew that, it wasn't operating day and he had an outpatients clinic in the afternoon.

She would see him at lunch.

She had planned it carefully; the children were going to a friend's at midday, so she would have him to herself.

She answered their anxious questions as to just when she would be coming back with a cheerfulness which wholly deceived them, begged them to be good children and do as Nanny told them and not to annoy their papa, and kissed them with a secret sorrow that it might be a long time, perhaps never, before she saw them again.

She stood on the steps waving them goodbye on their way to school.

Perhaps she was being gloomy.

Sarre might let her talk; if it was Anna, then she could tell him that she wouldn't interfere.

She rehea.r.s.ed what she was going to say as she did her last-minute packing, had a talk with Mrs McCrea and Nanny and then went into the garden.

She was arranging the flowers she had picked when Al came to her with a message from Sarre to say that he wouldn't be able to get home to lunch

after all, that Al would take her to the station in his stead, and that he hoped she would have a good holiday.

Alethea stood with the scissors in her hand, staring at him.

”But he can't!

' she cried.

”Al, are you sure that's what he said?

' Al nodded.

”Ho, yus, ma'am.

' He eyed her knowingly.

”It ain't ter your liking, neither, eh?

' She put the scissors down carefully, rammed the flowers in an untidy

bunch into a priceless Sevres vase and took off her gardening gloves.