Part 11 (2/2)
”John.... Kingsley.”
”Yes.” Barbara looked swiftly at him, but Patrick looked relaxed and unconcerned and she returned her gaze to the coffee cup in her hand ”Tell me about your late husband,” continued Patrick, interestedly. ”What did he do?”
Barbara replaced her cup on the tray and then said: ”Well, he was a schoolmaster, actually. He taught here in London.”
”I see.” Patrick stretched his legs out in front of him, relaxed and lazy in a low chair.
Barbara got up and went over to him, perching on the arm of his chair. She ran a hand down his cheek and bend ing her head, put her lips to his ear.
”Darling, don't let's talk about John. Let's talk about us.”
Patrick looked up at her. She was a very lovely woman, and dressed this morning in a light tweed suit edged with silver mink she was quite devastating. He wondered why her particular charm no longer seemed to work with him. He had known all along the kind of woman she was, self-centered and indulgent, but his own life had not been so blameless that he looked for perfection in others. Barbara had been a pleasure to take around and she was quite a stimulating companion. Only now, whenever he was near her, the face of her daughter superimposed itself upon his mind and he found himself wis.h.i.+ng it was Samantha who was trying to make love to him.
Not that Samantha had ever shown any tendencies in that direction. On the contrary, she seemed to resent his interference in her affairs and apparently found Andrew more to her liking.
He obviously struck her as being too old and experienced for her and he ought to feel that way himself. He has never been any woman's possession and he did not want to start now.
Pulling Barbara on to his knee, he put his mouth to hers, allowing her aims to encircle his neck arid press him closer. He despised himself for acting this way, but perhaps she might be able to lift the depression which was settling like a monkey on his back.
Barbara was excited and pa.s.sionate. It was well over a month since Patrick had made love to her and her senses were aroused to fever pitch.
”Darling,” she whispered ecstatically, her lips caressing his ear. ”You do care, don't you? I adore you so much...”
Patrick's stomach tautened. He felt nauseated by his own behaviour and with a wrench, he rose to his feet, de positing Barbara unceremoniously on the chair.
He ran a hand round the back of his neck, and shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptivity. Sighing, he looked down at her flushed face.
”I'm sorry, honey,” he muttered. ”I know that's inade quate, but this isn't the right time ... or place ...for ... that!
Barbara swung her legs to the ground, and trying to contain her disappointment, she rose slowly to her feet.
She looked at him curiously, and then reached for her bag.
”What time do you intend picking us up tonight?”
Patrick straightened his back. ”Let's see. Would six o'clock suit you? It's quite a run over to Sandwich.”
”Yes, that's fine.” She looked up at him archly. ”We might find this evening is more convenient, mightn't we?”
Patrick allowed his lips to form a smile. ”We might,” he murmured softly, and opened the door for her to leave.
CHAPTER V.
Samantha was in a panic. She alternatively longed for, or dreaded, the evening ahead. She and Barbara were barely civil to one another, now and an evening spent in each other's company would be an ordeal for both of them. Since the fateful c.o.c.ktail party, Samantha had spent sev eral hours in her mother's presence. Barbara had been in vited to open a South London Women's Guild Flower Show and Fete and Samantha had had to attend. Simi lady, they had attended a luncheon given by the Theatre Organisers' a.s.sociation and also visited a hospital in Chelmsford.
Lady Davenport of course did not attend, and the time they spent alone was a trial and a bore. Barbara had taken an almost ridiculous dislike to her daughter and white Samantha did not care much for her mother, she still felt, that she should make the effort. But all her overtures were in vain and only Clyde, who went everywhere with Barbara, knew the real state of affairs.
Lady Davenport consoled her granddaughter as best she could, and only the thought of Daven in the very near future had sustained Samantha through the past few days.
The evenings were spent alone with Lady Davenport, while Barbara went out. Samantha never knew who with. She supposed it must be Patrick Mallory, and tortured herself with thoughts of them together.
She realized she was deteriorating into a wretched misery, but the mental agony of the last few days could not be denied.
Thus it was that she faced yet another period in Barbara's company and this time she would be forced to watch while Patrick Mallory and her mother behaved in the accepted way of lovers the world over. That night at the c.o.c.ktail party he had been shocked and angry. Now there was nothing to interfere with his undivided interest in Barbara.
She dressed in slacks and a long red sweater. She rarely wore red, but tonight she felt like being reckless for a change.
She no longer had any real desire to stay in Lon don, so she might as well make her final evening memor able.
Lady Davenport was looking tired and wan when Samantha looked into her room to say goodbye. Her grandmother had retired early and was in bed when Samantha entered the room.
”You look very young, my dear,” she said warmly. ”Surely Barbara can have no complaints tonight.”
”I hope not.” Samantha smiled gently. ”Oh, Grandmother, what would I do without you? You make every thing seem so much more normal.”
”You would manage,” replied Lady Davenport. ”You're not without charm, you know. Everyone I've met who has spoken to you finds you utterly delightful; so I'm lore you would not have any difficulty.”
Samantha chuckled. ”I think you must be leaving Bar bara out of that list. Anyway, darling, I must go. I've got to collect my coat and it's almost six now.”
”All right, my dear. Have a good time, and don't let my daughter bally you.”
”I won't.” Samantha bent and kissed her cheek, and then withdrew quietly from the room.
She slipped on her llama coat, and was examining her pace in the mirror when the door opened. She swung round, surprised, and found herself face to face with Patrick Mallory.
He was wearing close-fitting denim trousers, together with a thick green pullover, and over all he wore a short thick, fur-lined coat. His hair was slightly tousled by the wind. His tawny eyes were lazily amused as he watched her, and she felt her heart stand still for a moment before continuing its mad racing.
”Hi!” he said softly. ”Are you ready ?”
Samantha pressed a hand to her stomach. ”I... er .. yes. Are you alone?”
”For the moment. Drew's waiting downstairs in the car. We have to pick Barbara up yet.”
”I see. Well, shall we go?”
”Sure. That's why I'm here.”
She flushed. He was mocking her again. Patrick, seeing the hot colour stain her cheeks, moved towards her.
”Did you think I was amusing myself at your expense?”
He was close now, only a few inches away from her and doubly dangerous in this sweet and gentle mood.
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