An Excellent Wife?

скачать книгу бесплатно


‘Did she?’

‘No, she left it to a cat’s home. In her will she said she had always hated her name, and if my parents hadn’t called me Patience she would have left me her money, but she despised them for saddling an innocent child with a name like that and said money had never helped her enjoy life so I’d be better off without any.’

James laughed. ‘She sounds interesting. And were you?’

‘Was I what?’

‘Better off without her money.’

Sadly she shook her head.

He began cleaning the blood from her forehead, exposing a long but thankfully merely a surface cut. James washed and dried it before covering it with a plaster, then washed the rest of her heart-shaped face and dried it carefully, very aware of her looking up at him, curling dark gold lashes deepening the effect of those eyes. He wished she would stop staring. Uneasiness made him brusque. ‘Head hurting much?’

‘Not at all.’

He held up three fingers. ‘How many fingers can you see?’

‘Three, of course.’

He stared into the centres of the hazel eyes but the pupils seemed normal, neither dilated nor contracted. She smiled, a sweet, warm curve of the mouth that made him flush for some inexplicable reason.

He scowled. No, that wasn’t honest; he knew very well why he had gone red. He had wanted to kiss that warm, wide mouth. He still did; in fact just contemplating the possibility made him dizzy. I’m light-headed, he thought. Am I coming down with some bug? There is flu going around the office. That must be it. Why would I want to kiss her? I don’t even like this girl; she’s a nuisance. She isn’t much to look at, either. Not my type.

She’s too young for you, anyway, a little voice inside his head insisted. Look at her! You can give her a good fifteen years.

Don’t exaggerate! he told himself. Ten, maybe—she’s in her early twenties, not her teens!

She had been watching him, now she looked down, her dark gold lashes stirring against her cheeks. James hoped she hadn’t picked up what was in his mind. He didn’t want her getting any crazy ideas about his intentions. As far as she was concerned, he did not have any!

A moment later Barny slowed, turning a corner. ‘This is the road; where exactly do I find the house, miss?’ He and James both contemplated the road of detached houses in large gardens. It certainly matched the address the girl had given them, but it did not match the girl herself. She didn’t look as if she came from one of these gracious period homes set among trees and shrubs, with curving drives, and lawns.

‘Keep driving and I’ll tell you when to stop,’ Patience said, and obediently Barny kerb-crawled until she said, ‘This is it!’

The car stopped outside and both men stared curiously at the high Victorian house with gabled pink roofs on several levels, twisty red barley sugar chimneys, latticed windows behind which hung pretty chintz curtains. Built of red brick, the woodwork painted apple-green, the design made it took more like a cottage than a large house, a typical design of the last quarter of the nineteenth century. It was set well back from the road in large gardens in which spring was busy breaking out.

A flurry of almond blossom on black boughs, green lawns covered in daisies, yellow trumpets of daffodils and purple crocus showing in naturalised clumps—James hadn’t noticed until now how far spring had progressed. There was an over-civilised tidiness to his own garden that missed out on this lyrical note.

‘The Cedars?’ he queried drily. ‘What happened to them?’

‘There is one, but it’s at the back. There were two when the house was built; the other one blew down in a storm years ago.’ She gave him a defiant glare. ‘And will you stop being sarcastic?’

He didn’t answer. ‘Barny, take us up to the front door.’

Barny swung the car through the green-painted open gates and slowly drove up to the porch which sheltered a verandah and a green front door. He stopped right outside; James got out of the car and turned to help Patience out.

‘Here you are. Goodbye. And I don’t want to see you again.’

She slid down from the car and stumbled over his foot. Quite deliberately, in his opinion, but it would be useless to point that out. Sighing, James caught her before she hit the path and picked her up. She was beginning to feel comfortable in his arms. He would have to watch that. This girl was insidious as ivy; she would be growing all over him soon if he wasn’t careful.

‘Okay, this is the last thing I do,’ he told her coldly. ‘I will carry you to your front door, but I am not going inside.’

He waited for an argument, but didn’t get one, which was ominous in itself. He would dump her on the doorstep and run back to the car and safety.

She looked over his shoulder at Barny, gave him that lovely, sweet smile. ‘Thank you, Barny.’

Suspiciously, James demanded, ‘How do you know his name?’

She turned her hazel eyes up to him. ‘You’ve been calling him that all the way.’

He got the smile this time, and felt his stomach muscles contract disturbingly.

‘You are funny,’ she told him indulgently.

He carried her up the steps on to the verandah and over the painted wooden floor which creaked every step of the way. James forced himself to put her down at the front door.

‘Well, goodbye, Miss Kirby, don’t come to my office again. I have tightened up security procedures; you won’t get in again.’

She gave him a distinctly wicked glance through her long, darkened lashes. ‘I bet I could if I really tried.’

He bet she could, too. His security men were only human.

Sternly, he said, ‘Don’t try. I would hate you to land in jail.’

‘You’d love it,’ she said, mouth curling, pink and teasing. ‘Men love to exercise power. Tyranny is their favourite occupation.’

James refused to argue with her any more. He turned to go back to the car, but at that second the front door swung open and a noisy multitude rushed out of the house and engulfed him in barking dogs with wagging tails and licking tongues, what appeared to be a dozen yelling children in scruffy jeans and sweaters, two old ladies in floral aprons and an old man in dirty boots and dungarees.

James should have fled there and then but he was too slow, too busy looking at the old ladies and wondering if one of them was his mother. He saw no resemblance at all, but then would he, after twenty-five years? Patience had said that his mother was frail and delicate. The description did not fit either of the two women; they looked tough and capable, in spite of both being at least seventy years old.

‘He’s taken our puppy and he’s going to drown it!’ one of the children sobbed. ‘Make him give it back.’

Patience was greeting dogs, her small hands busy on their heads, impeded by their licking tongues. ‘What puppy?’ she asked the tallest child, a boy with a mop of familiar red hair and eyes like melting toffee.

The old man answered her gruffly. ‘They found it and brought it home with them. As if there weren’t enough dogs underfoot without bringing puppies back here!’

‘I found it,’ the smallest child said, a little boy with spiky ginger hair. ‘I bringed it home in my spaceship.’

‘Spaceship?’ asked Patience.

‘Her wheelbarrow,’ interpreted the eldest boy.

Her wheelbarrow? That was a girl?

Patience smiled down at the smallest child, ruffling the hedgehog-like hair.

‘Where did you find it, Emmy? It must belong to someone! They’ll be worried about it; we must let them know the puppy is safe.’

‘No good,’ the old man grunted. “They don’t want it back. They’re not daft; they jumped at the chance to get rid of it.’

“The lady at Wayside House gave it to me!’ said Emmy. ‘She said nobody wanted it and I could have it, and it likes me. It wanted to come with me, it licked my face and jumped in my spaceship, but Joe says he’s going to drown it. Don’t let him, Patience, please...’

Emmy began to cry, tears seeping out of her eyes as if she was melting, and trickling down her small face.

‘This place is already overrun with animals; we’ve got to take a stand!’

‘I hate you, I hate you,’ Emmy sobbed, and kicked the old man with surprising violence on his ankle.

He hopped back. ‘Here, you stop that!’

As if at a given signal, the children all surged forward and were clearly about to launch a physical attack on him, too, but Patience said sharply, ‘No! Don’t be naughty, children!’ and they fell back obediently but glared and muttered.

‘He’s a nasty man!’ Emmy said, still dripping tears.

‘And what business is it of his, anyway?’ the tallest boy said, his voice breaking with temper, making him sound oddly touching, stranded halfway between child and man, neither one nor the other.

Patience produced a handkerchief and gently wiped Emmy’s wet little face. ‘You shouldn’t kick grown-ups; you know that, Emmy.’

‘Not even if they deserve it?’ the tall boy asked cuttingly.

Patience looked confused. ‘Not even then, Toby,’ she said at last, and the children shifted, scowling.

By then James had worked out that there weren’t actually a dozen, only about half a dozen, and he wasn’t sure if they were all related. The ones with hair on the red side were probably related to Patience; the three others of about the same ages were probably just their friends.

Barny got out of the car and came up the steps, asking quietly. ‘Are you coming, sir? I have to get back to Enid, if you remember, or we’ll be late for the theatre.’

Patience swivelled to look at James; the children, the old women and the old man all stared, too, silenced for a second or two and taking James in then, their eyes curious, probing. ‘Is it him?’ the children whispered to Patience, who nodded at them, putting a finger on her lips.

James knew he should be going. This whole family were obviously crazy. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. His life had always been so neat and ordered, a world of calm colours and hushed voices. He couldn’t help being fascinated by this revelation of a very different universe and he hesitated, feeling he should leave yet so curious he knew he would stay.

‘Off you go, Barney, you mustn’t keep Enid waiting. I’ll get a taxi,’ he said offhandedly.

Barny nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’ For some reason he smiled, too, as if he was pleased with James, although why he should be James could not imagine, flushing slightly and feeling irritated and self-conscious. Barny went back down the steps; the car drove off and James felt one last wild urge to run after it, but at that instant a tiny hand twined itself around his fingers.

He looked down into the bright green eyes of the little girl.

‘Come and see my puppy. Do you like puppies?’

‘Don’t encourage her,’ said the old man. ‘You can see how many dogs we’ve got. The last thing we need is another dog, and this puppy isn’t even house-trained; it leaves puddles everywhere and it has already torn up a cushion and Mrs Green’s slipper—chewed it to bits, it did.’

‘Oh, never mind that old slipper! I don’t care twopence about it. Don’t you drown that poor little mite on my account!’ said a spry, white-haired woman whose blue flowered apron exactly matched her blue eyes. ‘I’ll soon house-train him. I’ve always had a soft spot for a Jack Russell, and he’ll certainly keep the vermin down. We won’t need to worry about rats or mice if we have that little chap here.’