Across the Lagoon (6 page)

Carol worried a little about Stephanie's choice of attire. The girl seemed to go for things which were obviously a little too old for her. Carol tried to point this out to her when she felt it was necessary, only to find that, though Stephanie viewed most of the buying with placid indifference, she had, when she set her mind on something, a surprisingly strong will. The assistant was no help at all on these occasions. She was mainly concerned with pleasing rather than advising.

When a suitable selection had been made there was the business of trying on the purchases. Most of the garments fitted perfectly, but one or two needed slight - alteration, mainly at the hem. A seamstress was on hand in the salon for this purpose and every so often Stephanie had to come out of the changing booth for a fitting.

She was standing in a beautifully tailored striped beach suit having the trouser hems adjusted when Carol, looking on near by, noticed with a nervous thudding of her heart that Gray Barrett, his paper now folded on his knee, was also watching the proceedings.

She walked over to where the purchased garments spilled about in boxes and tried to look busy. Hypersensitive to his movements, she knew he had risen from his chair and was strolling critically around the area where his niece was being attended to by the seamstress and the assistant.

She didn't know why she trembled when she heard the muffled thud of his footsteps on the carpet coming up behind her. She felt his brown gaze taking in the expensive array of garments she was fiddling over, then his harsh voice sounded on her disbelieving ears. 'You'd better select yourself a dozen or so outfits while we're here.'

'Me?' Carol swung on him with startled wonder. It was true she had been full of wistful admiration for the tasteful clothes she had seen in the store. But to be invited to choose some for herself! The idea left her positively breathless.

Brusquely embarrassed by the glowing look she gave him, Gray Barrett said somewhat pompously, 'My niece is used to having only the best. Naturally as her companion you will be expected to command the same respect. You'll hardly do that with one small suitcase.'

Seeing his point, Carol nodded meekly. But still glowingly she lifted her eyes and said, 'Thank you very much.'

'Don't thank me,' he rasped drily, shifting his weight. 'Stephanie's parents are not poor. They're willing to pay anything to ensure her well-being.'

Always provided she doesn't bother
them,
Carol was tempted to say, but she didn't.

He must have spoken to the assistant, for a second or two later she came smilingly over. It wouldn't have been so bad if Carol had been left to it, but much to her excruciating shyness she found that Gray Barrett made no move to return to his chair. Standing beside her, he looked at every garment the assistant brought out and when Carol was too afraid to show her delight, he would comment with masculine offhandedness, 'That looks all right.'

The light dresses for evening made her eyes shine. If she dared to finger one tentatively he would say testily, 'Well, for heaven's sake, go and try it on.'

Eventually she was fitted out with several changes of attire. Luckily, because of her height, she had no problems with alterations. Stephanie still had one or two dresses which needed to be pinned at the hem. As she stood while the seamstress measured busily, Gray Barrett cast one or two impatient glances at his watch.

Carol knew that it was approaching lunch time and she guessed that Saturday was half-day closing for the store. She couldn't think of anything else which would cause the man's obvious ill-humour, until he returned from a conversation with the manageress and briskly informed his niece, 'We'll have to come back later and pick you up, Stephanie.' And with a grinding look at Carol, 'Miss Lindley here doesn't yet possess a passport, and the offices won't stay open indefinitely. We'll be back as quick as possible.'

Leaving his niece to make the best of it, he swept Carol before him and ushered her out into the street. At the car she fumbled nervously over the handle. Impatiently he opened the door next to the driving seat and clipped, 'In here.'

The traffic was a pulsing roar as they slid into the stream of it. Carol sat rigid, trying to look
patiently
unconcerned at the muttered oaths of
the man swinging -
the wheel beside her.

After jerking and stopping and speeding
where space
would allow, they drew up at last and turned into
the
courtyard of a gaunt grey-stone building.

Inside Gray Barrett was greeted with
the utmost
courtesy, and treated as though he was a
man of con
siderable importance. Everyone
seemed
to jerk
into
bustling activity when he arrived. He
must
have had
a
message phoned through from Rowan House about the passport, for everyone seemed to know why he was here.

They were shown into a big room furnished with a long polished table and chairs. While Gray Barrett was pacing and waiting, a middle-aged man in spectacles hurried in and laid out a long form on the table. 'Here we are, Mr Barrett,' he said with business-like amiability. 'If the young lady will just write in the details--'

Seated at the table, Carol was seized with raw panic when she saw all the small print. She would never take all this in with the big man hovering behind her. Fortunately for her, the jolly little government official proved to be a mild distraction, with his cordial conversation while the two men waited. Even so, when she faltered at one time, not knowing where to put the pen next, Gray Barrett's finger came in to stab the paper with an irritable, 'Here! You know your mother's christian name, don't you?'

At last all the lines were filled in. The middle-aged official nodded over the form approvingly. 'I'll put this through right away, Mr Barrett.' He moved towards the door, adding with genial optimism, 'It shouldn't take long.'

It was probably no more than ten or fifteen minutes that the man was away. To Carol it seemed years. She sat at the table not daring to move, painfully aware of that other presence in the awful silence of the room.

She sat tensed and immobile for so long that in the end her aching back and neck muscles would stand it no longer, and she was forced to turn to a more relaxed position.

And why not? she asked herself with flagging bravado. He was only a man, wasn't he?

In her new position now that she had moved, she had a clear view of him, standing big and frowning, his gaze directed out of the window. There was nothing monster-like about him that she could see. She had even noticed him smiling once or twice since they had entered the government offices. His teeth were white and even. She had noticed that too. And it had struck her, whenever she had sneaked a look at him on these occasions, how his smile seemed to give wings to the scowling shadows on his face.

Eventually the busy little government man returned. When Carol had signed her name again she was presented with her passport. The crisp new card with the awful picture of her inside seemed scant reward for all the pen work she had had to do. Nor was she to have the pleasure of possessing it. As they took their leave of the government offices, Gray Barrett held out his hand and said sourly, 'After all the trouble we've had getting it, I'd better hang on to that.'

The traffic had thinned out considerably as they made their way back to the store. Most of the shops and businesses had closed their doors for the weekend, leaving the city centre to the tourists. Carol had a suspicion that the people in the passport office had stayed on purely for Gray Barrett's benefit.

It was much the same story at the store. The doors were closed, but the manageress came forward as smilingly as ever to let Gray Barrett and Carol in. She explained that the seamstress had made all the necessary adjustments and would be working with her staff through the afternoon to complete the alterations.

Gray Barrett nodded and gave the name of the hotel where the purchased goods were to be delivered. They collected Stephanie, who was sitting with a bored look . in front of a portable television, and made their way back out to the car.

The morning's business apparently completed, they cruised along the wide streets past tourist spots gay with sightseers. Carol had only been to London once before on a school outing, so her gaze tended to swing about excitedly. Stephanie, seated beside her, had her head in a colourful teenage magazine which she had acquired from somewhere. Gray Barrett, just in front of her, drove leisurely, but looking to neither right nor left. Because she had no one with whom she could exclaim along with when she saw some particularly riveting sight Carol had to keep swallowing back her gasps of amusement and pleasure.

At one time when they passed a street band, a motley group complete with top hats and false noses and big bass drums, ebulliently serenading the passers-by, she got laughingly carried away and inadvertently grabbed the broad shoulder in front of her in her enthusiasm.

Almost at once she remembered where she was and dropped back pink-cheeked into her seat as Gray Barrett remarked with acid humour, 'Save yourself, Miss Lindley. The journey hasn't started yet. And we've got a long way to go.'

I
T
was
almost three o'clock when they drew up alongside the hotel, a big old-fashioned building which took up a whole corner block. Inside, the huge foyer was the scene, of considerable activity with porters hurrying across the space and guests wandering here and there.

The luggage was brought in and the car was driven away. After watching these jobs being attended to, Gray Barrett strode over to the reception desk. Carol, traipsing alongside Stephanie behind him, tried not to show her awe at her surroundings.

Across the space she saw stone archways leading off to different sections of the hotel, and dim alcoves holding great musty-looking couches. But dominating the foyer as one came in was the grand staircase at the opposite end. Red-carpeted, it started at the centre, then flanked off to right and left, its scroll-carved wooden handrails continuing up on either side to the balconied first floor. Above there were white marble busts looking down from high places.

To Carol it all had the hollow ring of a rather grand museum.

While they were waiting at the desk her delighted eye fastened on a rack of picture postcards depicting London in glorious colour. She
must
have some of these for the family. With Stephanie looking on idly she swung the rack round picking out the gayest scenes she could find. Thoroughly enjoying the task, she quite forgot where she was until Gray Barrett, turning from the desk, complete with porters and luggage and room keys, spotted her and came looming in to say with a barbed smile, 'Just let us know where you're ready, Miss Lindley.'

'Oh, I'm sorry.' She jumped round, the pleasure on her face receding behind a blush. 'I just thought I could quickly…'

As she fumbled in her handbag for money he clipped, 'Forget that,' and waving the postcards she had chosen towards the receptionist, he shunted her on her way.

They went up the staircase, their luggage going on ahead of them. Carol heard her employer's crisp instructions sounding in her ear. 'I've ordered a light meal to be sent up to your room. Dinner is at seven-thirty. Make sure you're down prompt.' His sharp gaze included Stephanie as he gave the order. Then with a curt, 'I'll see you both, then,' he nodded to one of the porters who took them, a key jingling in his hand, along a „ carpeted corridor on the first floor.

The room they were shown into had a high ceiling and tall gaunt windows draped with yards of net. The London traffic fumes were no doubt responsible for their greyish-white appearance. There were two beds and a wardrobe and one or two oddments of furniture.

Their luggage was set down and the door closed behind them. Carol threw off her jacket and went to look out of the window. There was little to be seen of the street because of the huge cornice jutting out just below the windowsill, but she was able to catch a glimpse of one or two passers-by down there, and a red bus trundling along. Inside the room, along the walls, was all the wiring for central heating and other comforts. But none of these modern touches could disguise the musty age of the place. One could even smell the centuries in the high ornate ceiling and the plastered walls.

She noticed that Stephanie moved about, removing her school blazer, tossing her tie on to the dressing table, without a thought for her surroundings, as though she had done it all so many times before.

Now that they were alone Carol felt all her old shyness welling up inside. Determined to overcome it, she swung away from the window and asked brightly> 'Now! Which bed would you like?'

'Oh, I don't mind,' Stephanie shrugged. 'I'll take this one.' She dropped down on the nearest one to the door, apparently already at a loose end.

'I suppose we could unpack our night clothes,' Carol said chattily, 'and our toilet things.'

Stephanie was just about to do so uncomplainingly when there was a staccato knock on the door.

Carol jumped nervously, wondering who on earth was coming in. When she saw an efficient-looking waiter appearing with a tray of food she had no idea what to do. Stephanie, on the other hand, showed no embarrassment. With a touch of her uncle's imperiousness she waved him in and told him to place the tray down on the bedside table. Carol gave him a shy smile of thanks and watched him go out and close the door behind him.

They ate sitting on the beds with the table between them. There were two plates of fresh salad with slices of ham at the side, buttered rolls and a pot of tea. Carol, enjoying the novel way of eating, made happy small talk about the meal. Stephanie replied when it was necessary. Though she wasn't exactly unfriendly, she didn't go out of her way to make conversation. She had shown at the school that she was capable of various emotions, but since then she seemed to have adopted a resigned attitude.

Carol, in her wisdom, decided not to push things. As she saw it, the two of them were going to be together for a long time. Far better to let a friendship develop naturally between them.