Part 9 (2/2)
”Everyone knows Martin Pryor,” remarked Patrick dryly.
”For their sins.”
”I see. He contacted me one day. He started asking me questions about my life in Italy,”
”Did he? I wonder why? Probably pure curiosity.”
”Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?” she asked, sigh ing.
”You know now, so soon everyone will.”
Patrick frowned. ”Indeed. And who is going to tell them?”
Samantha flushed. ”Well, I thought -”
”Did you?” Patrick raised his dark eyebrows. ”Then you thought wrong. I have no intention of denouncing Barbara to the world. Why should I? It's not really any concern of mine. If she chooses to keep her marriage secret, I shan't care.”
Samantha stared at him, a feeling of relief overwhelm ing her.
”But... I thought when you asked me here today -”
”- that I was going to get a certain form of enjoyment out of making you squirm. I know. Well, that was not my intention. I'm a writer, Samantha, and people interest me. I was also curious to know the reason for such subterfuge. It does not really surprise me. Whatever you might have a.s.sumed to the contrary, I find Barbara Harriet quite a transparent personality. After all, as I remember, she met me at the airport, the same day and time as you were arriv ing. That's something else that betrays the sort of woman she is.”
Samantha felt somehow dejected. She had thought that Patrick might discover her mother's true feelings in this matter, but to find that he already had made quite a shrewd a.s.sessment of her character was disappointing. After all, his a.s.sessment of her could not be entirely based on the few facts that had come to light within the last couple of days. From his manner of speaking it would seem that he had already summed Barbara up, long before Samantha appeared on the scene. And in spite of this he apparently still found her very attractive.
”Tell me,” she said suddenly, ”why didn't you admit you knew me last night?”
Patrick laughed softly. ”Oh, G.o.d, if I'd done that, your life would have been a h.e.l.l on earth! Particularly in these circ.u.mstances. As it is, I don't think Barbara is particu larly pleased with you for all the attention you received last night.
After all, sixteen-year-old daughters are sup posed to stay in the background. You really are sixteen, I suppose. Or is that another fallacy?”
Samantha hesitated. It would be so easy to admit to her real age. She was sure he would not tell anyone., but that would age Barbara considerably, and although she was nothing as a mother, Samantha could not betray her so blatantly, whatever her own feelings in the matter. ”It's no fallacy,” she said slowly.
Just then Mrs. Chesterton tapped at the door and a few moments later entered with a tray of coffee and biscuits which she placed on Patrick's desk. ''
She left the tray and after she had closed the door, Pat rick said: ”Will you pour the coffee? Or shall I ?”
Samantha rose to her feet, glad of the diversion. ”I will,” she said, and busied herself at the tray.
After she had given him his coffee, she poured a cup for herself, added sugar and cream and then reseated herself, albeit a little nervously.
”Having rid ourselves of that topic, let's talk about something else,” he said, smiling lazily.
”Such as what?”
”Well, let me see. How are you liking England, for a start?
Did Andrew give you a good time last evening?”
”Oh, yes.” Samantha was enthusiastic. ”He sang, too. He's very good, isn't he?”
Patrick grinned. ”If you like that sort of thing.” ”I gather you prefer more sophisticated entertainment.”
”Well...” Patrick looked amused, ”I am a little older, you know. Have you been to the ballet yet ? ”
”No. We went to see a play, Grandmother and I, one evening.”
”You must go to the ballet.”
”Yes, I think I should like that. I'd also like to see one of your plays,” she added a little naively.
Patrick looked even more amused. ”Would you? Well, I'm afraid you will have to wait until December. The new play opens on December the fifteenth at the Grosvenor Playhouse in the West End. Your mother has the leading role, so I imagine you wilt come to the first night. That is if you haven't vegetated at Daven by then.”
”Oh! Aren't there any of your plays in London at the moment?”
”I'm afraid not. The last one closed about six weeks ago. It's at present touring in the provinces.”
Samantha felt disappointed. She had been looking for ward to seeing something he had written.
”You will have to contain your curiosity,” he remarked dryly. ”Tell me about your life in Italy. I'd like to know what you did with yourself.”
”Would you?” She looked doubtful. ”It was a very simple life really. We lived at the villa and Father worked while I simply spent my time helping him with his corres pondence and sometimes helping Matilde with the house work. Nothing to interest you.”
”I wouldn't say that,” he murmured lazily. ”My mother lives in Italy. She has a villa near Lake Como. I spent the last month with her. Don't you miss the climate?”
”I suppose so. Although since I arrived I've been too concerned with... other things.”
”I can believe that,” he said, rather sarcastically she thought.
”And when do you go to Daven?”
”I don't know. In a week or so, I should think. Grand mother doesn't really like the hectic world of London. She says she prefers the peace at Daven.”
”Well, surely you could stay on here and live with your mother for a while. After all, she has plenty of room at her apartment.”
”I don't think Barbara - I mean -” Samantha halted rather helplessly.
”Maybe not. We'll have to ensure that you enjoy the part of your visit that is left then, shan't we?”
”We? I mean you?” Samantha was staggered. ”Who do you mean??
”I mean myself... and Barbara.” Samantha felt her heart thumping wildly. To imagine herself spending an evening with Patrick Mallory seemed unlikely. Surely he could not be serious.
And even if he was, Barbara would never allow it.
”Wouldn't you like to go out with me?” he asked mockingly, and she felt sure he was quite well aware that she would love to do so.
”Well.. yes, I suppose so. But I don't think my mother]
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