Robyn Donald – Iceberg (19 page)

'You got here when you wanted to.'

The censure in his tones brought her immediately on to the defensive. 'A one-way ticket took almost all of my

savings. I'm living on the rest.'

'Your father sent an adequate amount to live on.'

'I don't know anything about the financial arrangements.' With a shaking hand she picked up her drink, sipped

some, then with some slight gain in composure said, 'Look, leave it. I'm sorry I asked.'

She sensed rather than saw the swift lift of his shoulders. 'I would have thought -that Bronwyn was able to tell

you more than I.'

'I said it doesn't matter!" Astounded by the sharp note in her voice, she swung her legs down on to the ground,

prepared to get up and run, regardless of what he thought.

But his hand caught her wrist, held her still with merciless strength as he said quietly, 'Sit down.'

As she attempted to rise he jerked her down, repeating on a note of warning, 'Sit down, Linnet. I'm .not going to

eat you.'

When she was back on the lounger she watched as the white marks left by his fingers filled in and knew that

there would be bruises there tomorrow.

'Your father was a disappointed man,' he began conversationally. 'He didn't speak much of his life, but I

gathered that he had never got over your mother's defection. On rare occasions he spoke of you, with great

affection. Both he and Bronwyn missed you intensely."

I wonder why, his tone implied. Linnet swallowed, asking huskily, 'But what was he like?'

'What do you remember of him?'

She hesitated, then deckled that honesty was the only policy. 'Very little. He left early for work, and when he

came home he spent most of his time
m
the study. Once or twice he came to my birthday parties, but usually he

was working.' She went on with a flash of spirit, 'I remember my mother crying, often, but very little of my

father.'

'He said you were small and dainty, a little redheaded fairy with an enchanting smile. He was right about the

smile.'

Totally astounded, Linnet turned her head, met
at
derisive smile and felt pain and anger war for supremacy.

Anger won. Icily she retorted, 'Is that ail he said? He didn't know me particularly well, did he, to forget to

mention the strong mercenary streak."

'I can understand that,' he said coolly, 'if you've always been short of money. Possibly you feel entitled to half of

the estate. What's happening about that now?"

Fairly caught, cursing her too-ready tongue, she could only say foolishly, 'The lawyers are still working on it.'

'It's not too late to pull out, even now. Unless you really do feel that you're entitled to it.'

Of course, he would want Bronwyn to get what she wanted. The sun turned Linnet's hair into a nimbus of redgold as she bent her head away from his too intent gaze.

'I don't know," she said after a while. 'It's none of your business, anyway, Justin. Leave it, will you? You still

haven't told me much about my father.'

His withdrawal was palpable. 'There's very little to tell. An intelligent man, with Bronwyn's dry sense of

humour. He lived for his work. I liked him.'

'Did you?'

'Yes. He was an honest man who didn't pretend."

Linnet did not like the sarcastic inflection of the last sentence, but she ignored it. Let him think what he liked!

Thanks to Bronwyn he had always had a pretty low opinion of her; the events at Kawau could only have

strengthened it. No doubt he thought her wanton as well as mercenary and hard-hearted because she wouldn't

give up her job for Sarah.

Then Sarah arrived, demanding a drink, and sat down on the lounger by Linnets feet, enjoying the sweet fruit

juice with noisy Appreciation. A few minutes of conversation ensued, until at last Linnet got up, relieved at the

prospect of escaping from Justin's critical presence.

Even then Sarah wanted her to come up for dinner, turning petulant when
she
refused.

'Why not?' she demanded crossly.

'Because she said not,' Justin told her with just enough authority to quieten her.

And Linnet left, feeling that she had been exposed to more than any one person should ever have to endure.

Bronwyn arrived in at about ten o'clock, smartly casual in jeans and a denim jacket, carrying her beautiful

handmade boots in her hand with rueful care.

'Look at that!' she greeted Linnet without preamble. 'You wouldn't think there'd be so much mud around

anywhere, would you?'

'Where on earth have you been?’

The older girl managed to look both secretive and amused. 'Up the coast a bit.'

'Oh.' Somewhat deflated by this cavalier greeting, Linnet asked, 'Would you like something to drink?'

'Coffee would be delicious.'

When it was made she sat on the sofa, lashes hiding the blue depths of her eyes as she sipped. 'How did your

week go?'

'Fine. The weather was lovely until it broke.'

'Did you cope with Sarah?'

'Yes.' Linnet hesitated, before saying, 'She's a dear little soul, really. She just needs someone to love her.'

Her sister yawned, but not before there was, Linnet could have sworn, another flash of amusement in her eyes.

'No doubt. Losing your mother at an early age doesn't do much for your stability—look at’ me. Oh, by the way,

there's another letter from your mama over on the table—did you see it?'

'Yes, I did.'

An oddly stilted conversation. After a minute or so during which Bronwyn surveyed her hands with an air of

satisfaction she asked, 'What will you -do.-when-'I move out of here?'

Linnet felt a throb of pain deep within, but she answered with composure, 'Find myself a flat, or board with

someone. Why?'

'I just wondered. How much are you likely to earn as a librarian? Congratulations, by the way.'

When Linnet had told her she frowned, obviously working something out. 'You'll have to share a flat; you'll

never be able to afford one on your own.'

"Are you planning on going soon?'

Bronwyn dazzled her with her smite. 'Fairly soon, you don't tell anyone yet. It's still a secret.'

Which meant—what? That she and Justin had already set the date for their marriage? Somehow Linnet could

hot believe it. Yet what else should make Bronwyn se confident? There had been no other man in her life since

Linnet had arrived, so it had to be Justin.

Setting her cup down, she said hollowly, 'I think. I'll go to bed. Goodnight.'

‘I’ll see you in the morning.'

The telephone rang as Linnet went through the door into her room. She stopped, looked back and listened as

Bronwyn answered. 'Why, hallo! Yes—well, yes, she's just going. Oh!' The older girl swivelled to survey her

sister. 'Did she, indeed? That must be why she looks so tired. Yes, Justin, I'll pack her off to bed straight away.

Goodnight—and thank you.'

When the receiver had gone down she said accusingly, 'You twit! Trying to drown yourself like a kid with no

sense! What on earth would your mother have had to say if Justin hadn't been there!'

'Well, he was,' Linnet said peaceably, her sore heart soothed by the knowledge of Justin's anxiety.

Bronwyn came across to stand before her, small, somehow indomitable in spite of her size. In a totally

unexpected gesture she took Linnet's hand and squeezed it, saying as she released her, 'You're a darling, aren't

you? That ^mother of yours must have something to have brought you up so well. Do you think she'd come if I

invited her to my wedding?'

'I'm sure she would,' Linnet answered, feeling the bottom of her world drop out from beneath her. .

'Good. I'd like to make peace. Life's too short to hold grudges.' Bronwyn lifted her brows in faint surprise. 'I've

only just discovered that. Must be love's influence. Wonderful thing, ain’t it?'

Linnet smiled, then went into her room and closed the door behind her, wishing she could cry so that her tears

would dissolve the hard, heavy lump in her chest which was making it so difficult to breathe.

There was no hope now. Bronwyn would not speak so casually of her wedding if it were not a foregone

conclusion, so the arrangements must be in hand. Which meant that Justin was all that she had hoped he

wouldn’t—a philanderer with no moral sense, who could see no wrong in trying to seduce one woman when

engaged to another.

Linnet tried to tell herself that she was bettor off without him, but while her head agreed her heart and body

formed an active fifth column, weakening her praiseworthy determination to cut him from her life by" their

constant yearning.

The next few days were grim. Linnet found her appetite had gone; at mealtimes she had to force food down,

thankful that Bronwyn seemed too busy with her own affairs to take much notice of her sister's. Indeed,

something had happened to Bronwyn. It would be overstating the case to say that she was radiant, for her

emotions had been kept in restraint for so long that she could not reveal them as openly as other people. But she

was certainly happy, while trying to hide it with an approximation of her usual blasé manner, and failing.

Of Justin Linnet saw nothing, for which she was thankful. She felt she could not bear to meet him ever again.

But the weather was wet, as gloomy as Linnet's outlook; Sarah developed into a little ghost, haunting her

footsteps. Fortunately they discovered a book which had all sorts of exciting things to do, and before long

Sarah's bedroom table was strewn with all sorts of bits and pieces while she was initiated into the excitements of

French knitting and candle bulldozers, plaiting raffia belts and making mobiles. Between them they even made

a lampshade of brightly coloured wool for Anna's birthday.

It was during these miserable days that Linnet discovered that the housekeeper's attitude had softened even

more into something-very like friendship.

One day she brought an afternoon snack into the room, tea for Linnet and fruit juice for Sarah, and instead of

leaving as she usually did, drew up a chair and sat down, listening with a smile while Sarah snowed her their

projects. ,

'You've made a difference to that one,' she said when Sarah disappeared for a moment. 'She used to be a

whining, miserable little thing, demanding everyone's attention all the time. She nearly drove me out of my

mind!'

Linnet repressed the desire to point out that all that the child had needed was someone's attention and love.

Anna had never had children, so it was unfair to expect her to know how to cope. It did not occur to her that the

same might be said of her.

Instead she murmured, 'We started off on the right foot. This hero-worshipping attitude won't last, of course.'

Anna looked unconvinced. 'We used to have a nurse for her, but she left to get married when Sarah went to

school. She stood no nonsense, but the child was fond of her. And of course she's always been devoted to her

father, but he's away for most of the day. She needs a mother.'

Well, she would be having one soon; surely out of the depths of her own happiness Bronwyn could spare some

for Sarah. Aloud, Linnet replied,
'I
suppose she does.’ She missed her own mother dreadfully, poor little scrap. I

remember when Justin brought her home; she lay like a little ghost, white as a sheet, didn't eat, didn't talk for

days. They were very close, those two.' ‘-, 'Justin and Sarah?'

'Well, yes, but I meant his wife—Alison—and Sarah. Anna pursed her lips. 'She wasn't much of a wife, poor

thing, but she did her best for Sarah, I'll say that for her.' A question trembled on Linnet's lips, but she bit it

back. It was not fair to tempt Anna to gossip, and what on earth use would it be for her to learn any more about

poor Alison? She knew that Sarah's mother could not possibly have committed suicide as Stewart had implied.

No fond mother would have tried to kill herself with her small daughter strapped in the car beside her.

Oddly enough this was a relief. It had hurt to think that Justin could have been cruel enough to drive his wife to

Jake her own life. Arrogant and heartless he might be, but at least he did not have that sin on his soul.

Sarah's return put an end to any more confidences, but it was, to be an afternoon of interruptions, for much later

Stewart strolled in, dropped a parcel on the table before Sarah and -stood back to watch her reaction with

amusement.

'What’s it?' Sarah breathed, unwrapping it as carefully as if it had been a jewelled casket from fabled lands.

'Have a look.'

'Oh! Another Paddington Bear book! Oh, Uncle Stewart, you are a
ded!
How did you know there was another

one out?'

He received her rapturous hug with equanimity. 'I keep my eyes and ears to the ground, missy. What have you

been up to here?'

'I'm making a mobile—see, these are baby ducks and this is the mother. We have to sew the felt ones and the

foam plastic one together—Linnet showed me how. When it's finished I'm going to put it above my bed.'

'Clever girl! And clever Linnet too.'

He sat down and to Linnet's astonishment did two very neat blanket stitches, then looked up, eyes gleaming

with challenging laughter at her expression.

'And clever Stewart,' he mocked her. 'Hear you had a nasty experience at Kawau, Linnet.'

'Yes,' she replied, unwilling even now to remember those moments of panic beneath the sea.

'You look as though you haven't got over it yet. You can overdo the eye make-up put on with a smutty finger,