Read Online The Reluctant Guest by Rosalind Brett - Free Book Online
Authors: Rosalind Brett
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brief silence. Then: “You look charming tonight. Do you know that?”
“Good heavens, Storr, you’re making me self-conscious. I always feel rather an idiot in a low-necked get-up.”
He rose to it. Ann’s hands pressed hard against the wall as he said, “You needn’t—ever. When you have a strong and beautiful neck you should make the most of it . ”
“I’ll remember that.”
He said, “It’s getting late, and the others will be arriving. Can you hurry up our young friend from the Cape?”
“Oh, didn’t I mention it? Ann’s going to bed early. I think our hot days and cool nights are a bit too much for her.”
“Did she say that?”
“No, but she definitely doesn’t want to go out tonight . ”
As if she were in the room with them, Ann knew just how he looked; smiling, narrow-eyed, arrogant, with perhaps just a faint hint of malice in his expression as he visualized, fleetingly, the girl he had talked to ... and kissed, yesterday. She was so taut against the wall that she missed his reply. There came the opening and closing of the main door, the starting up of the car.
Ann’s tension snapped like a worn spring. She went along to the kitchen and drank some water, ate a biscuit and began to assemble the things she needed for an onslaught on the living room wall.
CHAPTER THREE
FOR three days life at the Borland house was tranquil. Except one friend of Theo’s, nobody called, and the only remarkable event was the delivery from the main Belati West store of a pair of riding breeches and six white shirts for Elva. The breeches were ready-made but an excellent fit, and with one of the white shirts they created a transformation which was almost incredible. Elva looked like the daughter of a gentleman farmer; occasionally she even acted like one.
P erhaps the strangest thing that Ann discovered was Elva’s lack of friends. Theo, it seemed, had several who came in for cards and sometimes a meal, and they must also, in a way, be friends of Elva’s. But no women were ever mentioned by name, and Elva often spoke disparagingly of the female element in the district. They had money, but made no use of it, she said. All they thought of was new fridges and sewing machines, their children and making preserves.
It was extraordinary, but Ann found that as the days passed she knew rather less about Elva than before. The other girl was changeable and secretive, she took it for granted that Ann’s life and emotions were a very simple open book and asked few questions. It became obvious she didn’t like women, but that Ann was to be tolerated for several reasons: she might marry Theo, she was making an amazingly good job of the living room, she was handy and willing with a needle and interested enough in cooking to teach Aaron several new dishes. Almost Ann found it laughable. Not quite, because there was the dark, brooding something in the background.
Elva, with her slightly hoarse but cultured voice, her carelessness about clothes, her fanatical obsession with something she never talked about, was not a comfortable person to live with, but neither did she try to make life impossible. On the whole she went her own way, and Ann couldn’t quite make out what that way was. She herself seemed to be marking time.
The living room blossomed. The walls a fine pastel blue, the woodwork white, curtains white and gaily patterned in mid-blue, black and scarlet, and a grey material for re-covering the chairs. The cushions were to be blue, the bought lampshades were white edged with scarlet, and the bookcase had a new coat of white enamel. Only the carpet was an unaltered drab; Ann would have dispensed with it and left floorboards bare and glossy, but Elva was against it.
“We’ll keep the carpet for the time being,” she said. “It will remind people how terrible this room was before the transformation. Will it take long to cover the chairs?”
“It wouldn’t, if we could borrow a sewing machine. I can do the
“Good heavens, Storr, you’re making me self-conscious. I always feel rather an idiot in a low-necked get-up.”
He rose to it. Ann’s hands pressed hard against the wall as he said, “You needn’t—ever. When you have a strong and beautiful neck you should make the most of it . ”
“I’ll remember that.”
He said, “It’s getting late, and the others will be arriving. Can you hurry up our young friend from the Cape?”
“Oh, didn’t I mention it? Ann’s going to bed early. I think our hot days and cool nights are a bit too much for her.”
“Did she say that?”
“No, but she definitely doesn’t want to go out tonight . ”
As if she were in the room with them, Ann knew just how he looked; smiling, narrow-eyed, arrogant, with perhaps just a faint hint of malice in his expression as he visualized, fleetingly, the girl he had talked to ... and kissed, yesterday. She was so taut against the wall that she missed his reply. There came the opening and closing of the main door, the starting up of the car.
Ann’s tension snapped like a worn spring. She went along to the kitchen and drank some water, ate a biscuit and began to assemble the things she needed for an onslaught on the living room wall.
CHAPTER THREE
FOR three days life at the Borland house was tranquil. Except one friend of Theo’s, nobody called, and the only remarkable event was the delivery from the main Belati West store of a pair of riding breeches and six white shirts for Elva. The breeches were ready-made but an excellent fit, and with one of the white shirts they created a transformation which was almost incredible. Elva looked like the daughter of a gentleman farmer; occasionally she even acted like one.
P erhaps the strangest thing that Ann discovered was Elva’s lack of friends. Theo, it seemed, had several who came in for cards and sometimes a meal, and they must also, in a way, be friends of Elva’s. But no women were ever mentioned by name, and Elva often spoke disparagingly of the female element in the district. They had money, but made no use of it, she said. All they thought of was new fridges and sewing machines, their children and making preserves.
It was extraordinary, but Ann found that as the days passed she knew rather less about Elva than before. The other girl was changeable and secretive, she took it for granted that Ann’s life and emotions were a very simple open book and asked few questions. It became obvious she didn’t like women, but that Ann was to be tolerated for several reasons: she might marry Theo, she was making an amazingly good job of the living room, she was handy and willing with a needle and interested enough in cooking to teach Aaron several new dishes. Almost Ann found it laughable. Not quite, because there was the dark, brooding something in the background.
Elva, with her slightly hoarse but cultured voice, her carelessness about clothes, her fanatical obsession with something she never talked about, was not a comfortable person to live with, but neither did she try to make life impossible. On the whole she went her own way, and Ann couldn’t quite make out what that way was. She herself seemed to be marking time.
The living room blossomed. The walls a fine pastel blue, the woodwork white, curtains white and gaily patterned in mid-blue, black and scarlet, and a grey material for re-covering the chairs. The cushions were to be blue, the bought lampshades were white edged with scarlet, and the bookcase had a new coat of white enamel. Only the carpet was an unaltered drab; Ann would have dispensed with it and left floorboards bare and glossy, but Elva was against it.
“We’ll keep the carpet for the time being,” she said. “It will remind people how terrible this room was before the transformation. Will it take long to cover the chairs?”
“It wouldn’t, if we could borrow a sewing machine. I can do the
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