The Bright One (47 page)

As the car drew up, Henry and Miriam Prince came down from the terrace to greet them. When Tompkins sprang to open the door and Graham handed her down from the car Breda felt that this must be how royalty felt, but at the same time she wished the ground would open and swallow her up.

Henry Prince approached, hand held out to Breda. Miriam Prince kissed her son warmly on both cheeks. ‘So lovely to have you home again, darling!'

‘This is Breda, Mother,' Graham said.

Miriam Prince extended a manicured hand on which rings shone and sparkled like miniature suns.

‘How do you do, Miss O'Connor,' she said pleasantly.

‘I'm very well, thank you,' Breda replied. ‘I hope you are.' And wasn't that the wrong thing to say, she asked herself? Had she not read in the magazines Auntie Josie bought that when someone said ‘How do you do,' they didn't actually want to know? ‘Please call me Breda,' she said.

‘I suppose Breda is an Irish name?' Miriam asked. And you couldn't say she didn't say everything graciously and politely, Breda thought. Oh no, you couldn't say that!

‘Sure, 'tis very common in Ireland,' she said.

‘Now why don't we go in and I'll show you to your room?' Miriam said.

She accompanied Breda up the wide staircase which ran from the centre of the hall. How wonderful, Breda thought, to have a staircase on which two people could walk side by side!

Mrs Prince took her along a corridor and around a couple of corners, then showed her into a large, prettily furnished bedroom.

‘I'll leave you to it, then,' she said brightly. ‘I expect you'll want to wash. You have your own bathroom. Tea on the terrace. Come down when you're ready.'

Breda surveyed herself from all angles in the triple mirror over the large dressing-table. She had never seen so much of herself before. Where was Graham, she wondered? She had been whisked away while he was still talking to his father, and she doubted that he'd even seen the going of her. And now his parents would have him to themselves, which was no doubt what they wanted, and was fair enough. Well, she'd be glad to leave them be for a while, and then she'd go down if ever she could find the way.

She looked out of the window. The garden was large, immaculately kept, fringed by trees. It gave way to farmland, fields of gold and brown stubble where the corn had already been harvested, and beyond that, softly rounded green hills. There was nothing of the wildness of either Kilbally or Yorkshire. It was altogether more civilized. Also, she thought, it was where she might have ended up had Graham not been offered the job in Hebghyll. She wondered what his parents would say to
that
bit of news.

She remained there, staring out of the window, nervous about joining the others. What could she possibly have to say to Mr and Mrs Prince? She wished Graham would fetch her.

A minute later he did so. He took her in his arms and his kisses restored her. ‘I thought you must be lost!' he said.

‘Have I been too long? I was looking out of the window. This is a large place – but very nice,' she added quickly.

‘It's much too large,' Graham said, ‘now that we've all flown the nest. Which reminds me, both of my brothers and their wives will be here this evening, and a few friends my mother's invited. But don't look so worried. I'll stick to you like a leech.'

‘Oh, I will not worry.' Or at least she wouldn't show it. It was only the one evening, after all. This time tomorrow it would be over. And Graham would be with her.

He took her hand and led her downstairs to where tea was laid on the terrace.

‘Do come and sit down,' Mrs Prince said. ‘We wondered where you'd got to, Breda.'

She poured pale golden tea from a Wedgwood teapot into exquisitely fine cups. Breda sent up a swift prayer that she wouldn't drop one.

‘It's getting late in the year to be sitting outside, but I do so love tea in the garden, don't you?' Mrs Prince asked Breda.

‘Oh, indeed I do,' Breda replied. ‘Sure, there is nothing I like better!'

‘And what do you do in Opal's? Graham hasn't told us. I've always thought it must be most amusing to work in a shop. I tell my husband he should let me have a go.'

‘I'm in Display,' Breda said. ‘But I used to serve behind the counter in my stepfather's store in Kilbally. That was amusing all right!'

‘Your stepfather has a
store
?'

‘A village store,' Breda said. ‘You could get the whole of it on this terrace. But there's little he doesn't sell. Paraffin, sugar, candles, bacon, brushes . . . '

She stopped suddenly, aware that nervousness was making her talk too much.

‘How very interesting,' Mrs Prince murmured.

‘It's very much the way my grandfather started,' Henry Prince said. ‘Only in the East End of London, not in Ireland.'

‘But a
long
time ago, darling,' his wife said. ‘Would you like another cup of tea, Breda?'

‘No thank you, Mrs Prince.' What she craved was something to eat. There was nothing, not even a biscuit. They'd had sandwiches on the train to London, but that was ages ago.

‘Has Graham told you that Hugh and David, his brothers, will be here this evening? And a few old friends of Graham's will drop in for a drink before dinner.' She turned and smiled at Graham. ‘Everyone's dying to see you, darling! You've been very much missed.'

A chill breeze sprang up from nowhere, shaking the petals from the roses, rustling through the trees. Breda, in her thin frock, shivered.

‘You're cold, Breda love,' Graham cried. ‘I think we should go in.'

‘Nearly time we went up and changed,' Miriam said, rising to her feet. ‘Your dinner jacket is hanging in your wardrobe, Graham. I had it cleaned.'

‘I'm not wearing a dinner jacket, Mother,' Graham said. ‘Not for an evening at home. All that nonsense went out with the war.'

‘But the war's over, darling. I do think we ought to get back to civilized standards again, don't you?'

‘Not if it means wearing a dinner jacket for an evening at home,' Graham persisted.

‘You're right, my boy!' Henry Prince said. ‘I shan't wear mine, either.'

Miriam Prince gave a deep sigh. ‘You're very tiresome, both of you! Oh well, we ladies will just have to make up for you!' She gave Breda a smile.

Thank the good Lord I packed my ribbon dress, Breda thought. It would do nicely.

Graham stood up. ‘Come along, Breda. I'm going to give you a conducted tour of the house before we go up.'

‘Be sure you're down at seven. Don't be late,' Miriam cautioned.

At five minutes to seven, having had a warm, scented bath, done her hair – which obligingly for once went the way she wanted it – Breda carefully applied her make-up, put on her ribbon dress, and then her precious gold chain. She took a last, critical look at herself in the mirror. Yes, she would do. She wouldn't disgrace Graham in front of his posh friends.

Waiting now for him to collect her, she looked out of the window again. The sun was low in the sky and any minute now it would sink out of sight and dusk would fall; time to draw the curtains. Darkness came earlier than in the north, and much earlier than in Kilbally.

‘Come in!' she called, in answer to Graham's knock on the door. She remained standing by the window.

‘I'm looking at the view,' she said. ‘It's very pretty.'

‘I'd rather look at you,' Graham said. ‘Turn around and let me see you!'

She turned around slowly and faced him. For a moment Graham looked at her, saying nothing. It
was
only a moment, she supposed, but it seemed a long one. She was suddenly apprehensive. ‘Will I do?' she asked anxiously.

‘You look absolutely lovely, my darling! Oh, I wish we could just stay here, the two of us; not go down at all!'

‘And don't I wish the same?' Breda said. ‘Aren't I as nervous as a cat?'

‘Come here, my love,' Graham said. ‘I want to hold you.'

He crushed her tightly against him, kissing her with passion, his hand stroking the length of her spine, moving over the curve of her hips. She stroked the back of his neck, ran her fingers through his hair, pressed against him, desperately wanted her body to be one with his. But when he began to propel her towards the bed she suddenly resisted.

‘No Graham! No! We have to go down. I'll crease my dress! Everyone will notice. They'll guess!'

By the time they went downstairs the drawing room, it seemed to Breda as she stood in the doorway clutching Graham's arm, was filled with people, all chattering like magpies. She wanted to turn and run, though she would never allow herself to do so. In any case Mrs Prince was advancing towards them. There was no escape.

The girl looked very nice, Miriam thought. She was a pleasant enough child, but not what she would have chosen to be the wife of her favourite son. ‘There you are!' she said. ‘Everyone's arrived. So why don't I take Breda around, Graham, and introduce her while you catch up with your friends?'

Graham felt Breda's pressure on his arm. ‘Thank you, Mother,' he replied. ‘I'll introduce Breda. She
is
my fiancée.' He took Breda firmly by the elbow and they moved away.

‘My brother David, his wife Laura; my other brother Hugh and his wife Elaine.' Graham said, breaking into a group. ‘This is my fiancée, Breda.'

There was a swift moment of silence when they first looked at her, and after that they were pleasant enough, especially Laura. Breda took to her at once. The eldest brother, Hugh, she did not care for. He was tall and supercilious, looking down at her from his great height, speaking to her, though only occasionally, in a refined drawl.

When they left his family, Graham shepherded Breda from group to group, from person to person until, it seemed to her, she must have met everyone in the room. They were nice, or not so nice, in varying degrees, though it was uncanny the way they all stopped what they were saying and gave her their rapt attention for the first moments.

Why did they do this, Breda asked herself? Why did they stare?

‘Wait just here one moment,' Graham said, ‘while I get us both a drink. Don't move, now!'

The minute he left, Laura Prince came up to her. ‘How are you doing, Breda?' she asked. ‘It's a bit of an ordeal, isn't it?'

‘Sure, I've never met as many people at once in all my life, unless at a
céilidh
or a funeral. Like as not then I knew them all. But what I don't understand is why they stare at me. Have I got a smut on my face, or what?'

‘No smuts,' Laura said. ‘And you have a very beautiful face.'

‘But not beautiful enough to stop the traffic,' Breda said. ‘So what is it? Is it the way I sound? But it can't be, because up to now I've hardly said a word.'

‘In the first place it's because you're the girl who's captured Graham, when some of them have been after him for ages. They've been curious to see you ever since they heard!'

Breda looked round. The young women were so smart in their little black dresses and pearl earrings, their hair expertly coiffured. Why have I been the fortunate one, she asked herself?

‘And in the second place,' Laura said, ‘I think simply because you're worth looking at; you're so lovely! I'm sure Graham must have told you that a hundred times! As for your Irish accent – don't apologize for it. It's most attractive, I assure you.'

Breda was suffused in one tremendous blush. ‘I wasn't fishing for compliments!'

‘I know,' Laura said. ‘And your dress is beautiful.'

Graham reappeared, carrying two drinks. He noticed Breda's heightened colour and his eyes questioned her.

‘I've been telling Breda how lovely she looks,' Laura said.

He could have hugged his sister-in-law. ‘I agree with you,' he said.

A little later, people began to leave, all except family, who were staying to dinner.

‘What a peculiar arrangement,' Breda whispered to Graham. ‘They all come, they have two drinks, then they go home again! In Kilbally wouldn't we all be dancing 'til midnight?'

She was, all the same, thankful that there was now to be a meal. She was starving. ‘My front's touching my back!' she confided to Graham. There had been dishes of cheese straws and nuts, but Graham had been so busy introducing her that she'd not had a nibble of anything. And now the second drink was going to her head and if she didn't eat something soon she'd pass out.

The meal was good. She ate every scrap on her plate, which was probably not ladylike, but she was
so
hungry. After dinner they moved into the drawing room, where Mrs Prince served strong coffee in ornate cups so small that it was difficult to take a hold of the handles.

‘There!' Mrs Prince said when they were all settled down. ‘Now wasn't it pleasant to catch up with your friends again, Graham?'

‘Very nice,' Graham said.

‘So when are you coming back to us, dear?' she asked. ‘When are you going to take up your place in Prince and Harper?'

Breda put down her coffee cup on the small mahogany table beside her. She found herself gripping it so hard that she felt in danger of breaking it. This was the moment she had been dreading. She looked across at Graham, but his face was expressionless.

‘So when do you think?' Miriam Prince repeated.

‘In fact, Mother, I won't be working in Prince and Harper.' Graham's voice was cool and decisive.

Henry Prince sat bolt upright. ‘What's that you say?'