Read Online No More Lonely Nights by Charlotte Lamb - Free Book Online
Authors: Charlotte Lamb
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voice, the voice one might use to a child, and Annette sighed, her face helpless.
‘Come and sit down,’ Cass said, leading her to the table.
Annette looked at Sian as she sat down opposite her, in the seat next to where Cass had been sitting. For a moment Sian felt the other girl didn’t remember her; Annette frowned, stared, then said, ‘Oh, hello!’
‘Hello, Annette.’ Sian poured her some tea while Cass vanished in search of fresh toast.
Annette drank the tea without appearing to be aware what she was doing.
‘Where did Ricky go?’
She was in shock, Sian realised at that instant. Her eyes held a dazed blankness that was rather worrying.
‘To stay with a friend. He’ll probably see you at the hospital.’
Annette was on her feet again. ‘We must go!’
Cass came back before she reached the door, and stopped her. ‘The toast is on its way, and I rang the hospital again. You couldn’t see him even if you went now, because he’s fast asleep.’
Annette sagged again and let him put her back on the chair, her slim body like that of a rag doll. Sian watched Cass’s gentleness and a funny little ache started inside her. Considering the humiliation Annette had inflicted on him yesterday, he was amazingly kind to her and that must mean that he loved Annette very much. There was no rational explanation why that should bother Sian; she didn’t really know either of them very well, yet that ache went on inside her and all her cool self-derision couldn’t stop it.
The housekeeper brought the toast on a plate and looked at Annette in a muddled way—half sympathy, half resentment—before stamping out again. Annette didn’t notice; she was past noticing anything. Sian put toast on her plate and offered her marmalade or honey.
Annette shook her head, ate the buttered toast with reluctance, as if it were sawdust, but at least had drunk her tea, into which Sian had stirred a heavy dose of sugar. Annette didn’t appear to notice that, either.
She had almost finished her toast when a new arrival made them all start. They heard the bang of the front door, footsteps in the hall, then there was a whirl of skirts and a very beautiful girl hurtled into the room, her arms full of newspapers.
‘Cass, I could kill her!’ she began before she saw them all. Then she stared, her jaw dropping, her lips parted on a gasp of furious incredulity.
She looked vaguely like her brother. Sian saw the family likeness—the black hair and pale eyes, the height, the pared bone structure and finely moulded features. Sian had never seen a photo of Magdalena, yet she felt at once that this was his sister.
‘We’d better talk in the hall, Magda,’ Cass said, confirming this, getting up and moving towards his sister.
‘What’s
she
doing here?’ his sister demanded, flushing to her hairline, as she stared at Annette. Sian admired the white dress she wore; it was very simple, very chic. Magdalena’s expression was in direct contrast; it was complicated and well-nigh barbaric. She was in a tearing temper, and scowled at Annette, who didn’t seem aware that she was there at all, and went on drinking her tea with a blank expression.
‘Out,’ Cass said, taking his sister’s arm, but she resisted him and stood her ground, glaring and getting angrier by the second.
‘How can you bear to have her in the same room after what she did to you? My God, when I think about it! I didn’t know where to look. I was so embarrassed, and last night people kept ringing up to sympathise… that’s a joke! What they really wanted to do was winkle all the details out of me, have a good laugh! She humiliated us, not just you, Cass—the whole family! Have you read these papers? All the money you spend on public relations, I’d have thought they could keep this out of the gutter press. What do you pay them for?’ She took a deep breath, but she hadn’t finished. ‘What’s she doing here, anyway? One of the papers said she’d run off to
‘Come and sit down,’ Cass said, leading her to the table.
Annette looked at Sian as she sat down opposite her, in the seat next to where Cass had been sitting. For a moment Sian felt the other girl didn’t remember her; Annette frowned, stared, then said, ‘Oh, hello!’
‘Hello, Annette.’ Sian poured her some tea while Cass vanished in search of fresh toast.
Annette drank the tea without appearing to be aware what she was doing.
‘Where did Ricky go?’
She was in shock, Sian realised at that instant. Her eyes held a dazed blankness that was rather worrying.
‘To stay with a friend. He’ll probably see you at the hospital.’
Annette was on her feet again. ‘We must go!’
Cass came back before she reached the door, and stopped her. ‘The toast is on its way, and I rang the hospital again. You couldn’t see him even if you went now, because he’s fast asleep.’
Annette sagged again and let him put her back on the chair, her slim body like that of a rag doll. Sian watched Cass’s gentleness and a funny little ache started inside her. Considering the humiliation Annette had inflicted on him yesterday, he was amazingly kind to her and that must mean that he loved Annette very much. There was no rational explanation why that should bother Sian; she didn’t really know either of them very well, yet that ache went on inside her and all her cool self-derision couldn’t stop it.
The housekeeper brought the toast on a plate and looked at Annette in a muddled way—half sympathy, half resentment—before stamping out again. Annette didn’t notice; she was past noticing anything. Sian put toast on her plate and offered her marmalade or honey.
Annette shook her head, ate the buttered toast with reluctance, as if it were sawdust, but at least had drunk her tea, into which Sian had stirred a heavy dose of sugar. Annette didn’t appear to notice that, either.
She had almost finished her toast when a new arrival made them all start. They heard the bang of the front door, footsteps in the hall, then there was a whirl of skirts and a very beautiful girl hurtled into the room, her arms full of newspapers.
‘Cass, I could kill her!’ she began before she saw them all. Then she stared, her jaw dropping, her lips parted on a gasp of furious incredulity.
She looked vaguely like her brother. Sian saw the family likeness—the black hair and pale eyes, the height, the pared bone structure and finely moulded features. Sian had never seen a photo of Magdalena, yet she felt at once that this was his sister.
‘We’d better talk in the hall, Magda,’ Cass said, confirming this, getting up and moving towards his sister.
‘What’s
she
doing here?’ his sister demanded, flushing to her hairline, as she stared at Annette. Sian admired the white dress she wore; it was very simple, very chic. Magdalena’s expression was in direct contrast; it was complicated and well-nigh barbaric. She was in a tearing temper, and scowled at Annette, who didn’t seem aware that she was there at all, and went on drinking her tea with a blank expression.
‘Out,’ Cass said, taking his sister’s arm, but she resisted him and stood her ground, glaring and getting angrier by the second.
‘How can you bear to have her in the same room after what she did to you? My God, when I think about it! I didn’t know where to look. I was so embarrassed, and last night people kept ringing up to sympathise… that’s a joke! What they really wanted to do was winkle all the details out of me, have a good laugh! She humiliated us, not just you, Cass—the whole family! Have you read these papers? All the money you spend on public relations, I’d have thought they could keep this out of the gutter press. What do you pay them for?’ She took a deep breath, but she hadn’t finished. ‘What’s she doing here, anyway? One of the papers said she’d run off to
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