ChapterThree
Four days passed without Christy seeing anything of Dominic. She told
herself that she was glad, and concentrated on settling into a proper
routine. By the end of the week she was finding that she had time to
spare, and because she was used to being busy, it weighed heavily upon
her hands. So heavily, in fact, that her father's announcement that a
meeting was going to be held to discuss the setting-up of a committee
to organise fund-raising for Dominic's clinic-cum- operating theatre
came as a welcome relief.
"I've volunteered you to take notes and keep the minutes," he warned
her.
"Dominic was a bit dubious about whether you'd want to be so closely
involved."
Meaning that he didn't want her closely involved? She felt a totally
unexpected pain shaft through her, which she suppressed instantly,
instead concentrating on fanning her anger.
"Was he? Well, you can tell Dominic from me that I do want to do it.
It will stop my secretarial skills from getting too rusty. "
"You'll be able to tell him for yourself," her father chuckled.
"He's coming round for supper tonight, so that we can make a few
preliminary plans."
The sudden lurch of her heart was so intensely reminiscent of her
reaction to the mention of his name at seventeen that it drove all the
colour from her face. What was the matter with her? She wasn't that
susceptible, adolescent, any more. She felt nothing for Dominic
Savage, unless it was dislike.
"Who else will be at the meeting?" she asked her father, trying to
distract herself.
"Oh, John Howard, from the bank. He's bringing a client of his who's
just moved into the area. A self-made man who's just retired and who
he thinks might be interested in making a donation. I think I've
managed to persuade Lady Anthony to join us. She suffers quite badly
from arthritis now, and isn't as involved in local affairs as she was
once, but I think she'll consider this is something worth being
involved with. She's always had a soft spot for Dominic."
"Yes. Ever since he presented her with the chocolates he won at the
summer fete!"
Her father gave her an indulgent smile.
"Yes, you'd plagued the life out of him to give those chocolates to
you."
"And he said they weren't good for me." ' That had been the summer
she was eleven, and Dominic had been, what? Nineteen and at medical
school. She had adored him then, and he had put up with her adoration
in much the same way as he might have tolerated the friskiness of an
untrained puppy.
"Lady Anthony has a relative staying with her at the moment. I haven't
met her, but I have heard that she's a very attractive young woman.
You'll probably find you have quite a lot in common with her. She's
been living in London, but when her marriage broke up she came to stay
with her godmother. The Vicar will be there of course--oh, and Major
Barnes. "
When Christy's eyebrows rose, her father grinned.
"Yes, I know. He and Lady Anthony will argue like mad. They always
do, and secretly, I'm sure both of them enjoy it. He's an
indefatigable organiser, though.
We're all meeting at Dominic's house--you know he's bought the
Vicarage. " He glanced apologetically at her.
"I'm afraid I've volunteered you to take charge of the *******ments.
Your mother..."
Christy sighed, not needing him to finish the sentence. Yes, had she
been well enough, her mother would have been the first to offer her
services. Like the Major, her mother was also an indefatigable
organiser, and many was the hot summer afternoon when Christy had been
detailed to assist with a mammoth cake-baking session for some local
bring-and-buy sale or summer fete.
It must be her nostalgia for those long-ago times that made her refrain
from objecting to her father's casual disposal of her time, she decided
the next morning as she surveyed the cooling sponges on their wire
trays.
The inhabitants of Setondale were oldfashioned about some things;
bought cakes were one of them. No self-respecting Setondale housewife
would ever serve her visitors with something she had not prepared with
her own hands.
Well, at least she didn't appear to have lost her touch with a sponge,
Christy thought approvingly as she tested the golden-brown
confectionery. In addition to the sponges, there were biscuits, made
to her mother's special recipe, and later on she would make sandwiches
and carefully cover them to stop them curling at the edges. She would
have to borrow her father's car to run them over to Dominic's house,
but since her father was out playing golf with one of his cronies he
was hardly likely to object.
As she drove over to the Vicarage later in the day Christy wondered
curiously why Dominic had bought it. Surely a smaller house in the
centre of Setondale itself would have suited him more? The very reason
the Church had sold off the Vicarage was its size, and the cost of
maintaining and heating it. As far as she remembered, it had at least
seven bedrooms, and then there were the attics.
The wrought-iron gates were permanently open; indeed, they had stood
open for so long that she doubted they could ever be closed.
Weeds and brambles had grown in between the spars, and the bright
winter sunshine highlighted their neglected state.
The drive to the house too was overgrown, and the trees, which would
look lovely in the spring, now looked gaunt and dreary without their
leaves. Even so, the Georgian facade of the house was undeniably
elegant, and the gardens, encircled as they were by a high brick wall,
would be a haven of privacy once they had been brought under control.
But who was going to do that? Not Dominic, surely? He would be far
too busy.
As she parked her father's car and climbed out it struck her that the
Vicarage was very much a family house. Did that mean that Dominic had
plans to marry? Her mind shied away from the thought.
As she approached the house the front door opened and Dominic came out.
"Dressed casually in ancient jeans and a plaid shirt, with the sleeves
rolled up to his elbows, he could almost once again have been the boy
she had adored as a child, and then he moved and the bright sunlight
caught the harsh planes of his face, and the illusion of the boy was
gone and she was faced with the reality of the man.
"I've just brought the eats for tonight."
"I didn't think you'd come round just for the pleasure of my
company."
The dry remark made her stop and look at him.
"Oh, come on, Christy,
I'm not blind," he said.
"You've made it more than obvious how you feel about me."
She tensed then, unable to stop herself, alarm feathering over her skin
as he came towards her. What did he mean? Her heart was pounding
frantically, her throat dry. Surely she hadn't. "It's obvious that
you dislike me," he continued curtly, and she felt her body sag with
relief. He thought she disliked him. But he was right, she did, of
course she did. Disliked and despised him, just as he had once
despised her.
"However, we live in such a small community that we can't avoid one
another," he continued.
She managed to gather enough composure to say hardily, "There's a
difference between not avoiding one another and me falling over you
almost every time I walk in the front door."
She saw the way the planes of his face altered, his muscles tensing
under the self-control he was using.
"Your parents happen to be old friends, and I'm damned if I'm going to
give that friendship up just to suit you."
She watched his jaw clench as he grated the words out at her, and then
suddenly he turned to her, his body relaxing slightly as he appealed,
"Look, Christy, what is it? We used to be such good friends...1
accept that times, and people, change, but I can't understand this..
this antipathy you have towards me."
He couldn't understand? A wave of anger shook her. He had destroyed
her world and now it seemed he couldn't even remember doing it.
"No, I'm sure you can't," she agreed tautly.
"But the days are long gone when I grovelled at your feet, Dominic,
glad of every little scrap of attention you threw my way. Let's just
say that I've grown up, shall we, and leave it at that."
As she walked away from him and back to the car she could hardly
believe that he had actually forgotten what had happened. Bitterness
mingled with her anger. How could she ever have been so stupid as to
invest him with all the virtues of some chivalrous knight? The Dominic
she had loved had never really existed; he had simply been a figment of
her imagination. It was ridiculous that she should feel so, so betrayed
that he couldn't remember what he had done to her, but she did.
This time as she walked towards the house carrying her boxes of food he
made no attempt to speak to her, simply preceding her into the
old-fashioned kitchen and showing her where she could put everything.
"You don't have to do this, you know," he told her when she had
finished.
"I can get someone else to act as committee secretary."
"Yes, I'm sure you can, but as I told my father, it will stop my
secretarial skills from getting rusty. Don't flatter yourself that the
fact that I have to come into contact with you affects my decisions on
how I live my life, Dominic. It's simply that you're someone I'd
rather not see unless I have to."
"So I see. Well, if that's the case, you have my promise that I won't
encroach on our old friendship. I had hoped..." He shrugged and
turned away from her, but not before she had seen the bitterness
twisting his mouth.
Dominic, bitter? But why? And what had he meant about him not
encroaching on their old friendship? Surely he was the one who didn't
want her encroaching on it, just as he had made plain to her eight
years ago?
Feeling thoroughly confused, Christy headed back to her father's car.
It was almost as though Dominic was trying to pretend that he wanted to
be friends with her. But why? She wondered whether he was ashamed of
the way he had treated her. But if that was the case, why didn't he
say so; why pretend that he couldn't even remember that it had
happened? It was like a jigsaw puzzle with all the vital pieces
missing. For eight years she had harboured her resentment and dislike
of him, and on hearing that he was back in Setondale she had expected
that he would want as little contact with her as she did with him, and
yet today he had implied that he wanted to resurrect their
friendship.
At seven o'clock that evening, having made sure that her mother had
everything she wanted, Christy and her father set out for the
Vicarage.
The temperature had dropped again, but the full moon had brought a
clear sky with no threat of snow.
"We will have some yet, though," her father predicted as he drove down
the lane.
Little pockets from the previous week's snowfall still lingered in
hollows and by the roadside, and Christy was glad she wasn't driving
when she felt the car start to slide once or twice.
They were the first to arrive, and Christy went straight to the
kitchen, leaving her father and Dominic to talk. The anger against
Dominic which had sustained her for so long seemed to have dissipated,
leaving her feeling on edge and unsure of herself. She felt
uncomfortable being near him, constantly tense and apprehensive,
although why she was no longer sure. It was obvious to her now that he
wasn't going to resurrect the past, as she had dreaded him doing, so
why did she suffer from this inability to relax, even to breathe
properly, when he was around?
During her years in London she had learned to deal with many difficult
and fraught situations. Not even when she had had to refuse David had
she experienced this degree of nervous constraint. It was almost as
though Dominic possessed some special sort of power over her that made
her intensely and uncomfortably aware of him. Even now, with the
thickness of two walls separating them, she was acutely conscious of
his presence. She didn't even need to look at him when he spoke to
visualise his expressions. She could have drawn his every feature
perfectly from memory. She shivered suddenly, and told herself it was
the old stone house that made her feel so cold.
"Coffee ready?" her father called cheerfully, coming into the
kitchen.
"The others seem to have arrived together."
"It will only be a minute; I'll bring it through into the library."
As she already knew, the Vicarage had four main downstairs rooms in
addition to the large and old-fashioned kitchen. There was a huge
drawing-room, which the Vicar had never used;
a dining-room, a comfortable sitting-room, and then the library. The
library had always been her favourite room, with its smell of leather
book bindings and dusty parchments. It overlooked the rear grounds of
the house, and three of the walls were lined from floor to ceiling with
mahogany bookcases. The Vicarage and the living that went with it had
originally been in the gift of the Anthony family, and the house had
been built for a younger son who had joined the clergy, hence its
generous proportions.
Carrying the tray of coffee, Christy nudged open the door with her
foot. Several pairs of eyes studied her entrance, but only two of them
drew her attention. The first belonged to Dominic, and she felt the
colour bloom under her skin as she realised how instinctively she had
looked for him. There was a curious expression in the grey eyes, and
if she hadn't known better she might have thought it was pleasure.
Angrily she dragged her glance away from Dominic's, and found that she
was being stared at rather hostilely by a pair of cold blue eyes set in
a sculptured but rather hard face which she deduced belonged to Lady
Anthony's goddaughter.
"Ah, there you are, my dear." Her father got up to relieve her of the
tray, but Dominic beat him to it, which was rather strange as he had
been seated furthest away from her.
"I think you know everyone, don't you, with the exception of Amanda,
and Mr. Bryant?"
Amanda Hayes' cold blue eyes acknowledged the introduction without
making any attempt to make Christy feel welcome. Wondering what on
earth she had done to merit the other woman's patent hostility, Christy
turned her attention to the older man seated with John Howard, their
bank manager.
Somewhere in his fifties, he had the lean, predatory look of a man who
challenged life head on, and Christy could easily visualise him in the
role of a successful businessman.
Having made sure that everyone had something to eat and drink, she
looked for somewhere to sit, and to her disquiet found that the only
empty chair was one next to Dominic. Since he was obviously chairing
the meeting she supposed it made good sense that she should sit next to
him, but she saw from the narrow-eyed look that Amanda gave her that
the other woman was equally displeased with the seating arrangements.
So that was the reason for her hostility, Christy thought as she sat
down. Amanda couldn't know Dominic very well if she thought that she
was any threat to her.
The next two hours passed so quickly that Christy had no time for any
private mental meanderings. Her fingers flew over the notepad as she
faithfully recorded the details of the meeting. Their first task,
Dominic informed them, was to find somewhere suitable to convert into a
clinic.
"I believe I've found the ideal place--a pair of Victorian semis that
are up for sale in Setondale itself."
There then followed a spirited discussion on the rival merits of buying
a building and converting it, or having something purpose-built.
"Purpose-built is ideal, of course," Dominic agreed.
"But because of the historic and architectural nature of Setondale, I'm
afraid we might have problems with the planning and environmental
people if we wanted to start right from scratch."
"Well, I think the best thing for us to do is to go along and look at
these semis," Peter Bryant announced. He got out his diary and
consulted it.
"I can manage tomorrow afternoon. After that I'm not free for two
weeks."
There were murmurs of assent from the other members of the committee,
which concluded with the Major saying briskly, "Right, that's settled,
then; tomorrow afternoon it is. I'll liaise with the estate agents,
and organise cars to make sure everyone can get there. I take it
everyone wants to see the place."
Everyone, it seemed, did, except Christy's father, who announced that
since Christy could go in his stead, and since her presence was more
necessary than his, she should go and he would stay at home with his
wife.
"That's settled, then. I'll pick you up on the way, Christy,"
suggested Dominic.
Instantly Amanda pouted, her hard eyes flashing warning signs at
Christy.
"Dominic, I was going to ask if you would drive my godmother and me
there ... I'm afraid I'm rather useless behind the wheel of a car."
"I..."
"Please don't worry about me, Dominic," Christy intervened.
"I'm quite happy to drive myself. In fact, I'd prefer it," she added,
giving him a tight little smile.
"I don't like to be away from Mother for too long..."
Both of them knew that she was lying, but apart from the ominous
tightening of his mouth, Dominic made no comment.
What had he expected? Christy asked herself in guilty defiance. That
she would fling herself at his feet, with her old childish gratitude
for his attention?
"Well, now that we've got that out of the way I suggest we move on to
ways and means of raising the finance for this project."
That was the Major, and as her pencil flew over her notebook again,
Christy concentrated on recording the committee's suggestions on how
the money might best be raised.
"As an incentive, my client, Peter Bryant, here, is prepared to donate
twice the amount you can raise from the general public towards this new
health centre," John Howard added, when the others had finished
speaking.
It was a very generous offer, and Christy wasn't the only person to
look across at the entrepreneur when the bank manager had made his
announcement.
"That's extremely generous of you," said Dominic warmly.
"That remains to be seen, doctor--my generosity depends on how much you
can raise by your own endeavours--God helps those who help themselves,
eh?"
Christy guessed from the expression on the Vicar's face that he wasn't
wholly at ease with the quotation, but whatever the man's motives,
there was no getting away from the fact that his offer was a generous
one.
Suspecting that the meeting was about to be concluded, Christy was just
on the point of getting up to collect the coffee cups when Lady Anthony
surprised her by saying, "I have a suggestion to make--actually it's my
goddaughter's." She smiled fondly at her companion.
"She has reminded me that we have an excellent and very large ballroom
at the Manor, and she has suggested that we hold a Valentine's Night
Ball there."
"That's an excellent idea," John Howard commented enthusiastically,
before anyone else could intervene.
"I know several customers of the bank who would want to attend,
especially if we could organise some sort of supper."
"You'll need a band, of course." That was Amanda herself speaking, her
cold eyes sweeping dismissingly around the table until they met
Christy's as she added, "And I expect there are plenty of women in and
around Setondale who could organise the food."
In view of everyone else's enthusiasm, not even the Major could decry
the project, and Christy was privately amused to see his desire to out
manoeuvre his old rival. Lady Anthony, warring with his duties as
Chairman of the Finance Committee.
At last, grudgingly, he agreed that the idea was a good one, and added
that he thought he knew where he could find their musicians.
"They'll be good ones, I hope," Amanda chipped in.
"I mean, this won't be a dreary local hop. I intend to ask some of my
London friends to come down."
Privately Christy suspected that if Amanda could have excluded everyone
bar her London friends and, of course, Dominic, she would have been
more than pleased to do so, but it wasn't her job to make any comments,
only to take the minutes, which made it all the more surprising when
Dominic turned to her to ask her, "What do you think of the idea,
Christy? Do you think it will be well subscribed?"
She hesitated for a moment before replying, conscious that they were
being watched. It was one thing for her to harbour her own resentment
and dislike of Dominic; it was quite another to make everyone else
aware of her feelings.
"Yes, yes, I think it will," she answered after some deliberation.
"There are enough comfortably off people living locally for the tickets
to sell very well." She paused for a moment and added slowly, "It's
nothing to do with me... and it's only an idea, but since it is to be
for Valentine's Night, how about making it a masked ball--not fancy
dress as such, just masked."
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the vindictive look in Amanda's
eyes and sighed. She would have done better to say nothing, but the
idea had just occurred to her and she had thought it a good one.
To her surprise, someone else did as well. After harrumping and
frowning for several seconds, to not just her astonishment but everyone
else's too, the Major cleared his throat and announced, "Damn fine
idea. Went to several when I was out in India. Damn fine affairs.
Very romantic. Just the ticket for a Valentine's Night. "
The idea of the Major finding anything romantic was quite obviously as
startling to the others as it was to her, and it was almost a full
minute before anyone could speak. However, eventually Lady Anthony
said firmly, "I agree. I attended several such balls in my youth and
they were all great fun."
"Right, so a masked ball it will be." Dominic turned to Christy,
smiling at her with such warmth and sincerity that she literally felt
herself holding her breath. She remembered that smile from long ago,
and the effect it had had on her-once, but not now, she reminded
herself, hardening her heart.
"I suppose we'd better select a subcommittee to organise the details.
I nominate Christy as the organiser, and chief liaison person. I
also vote that we appoint Lady Anthony as Chairwoman. "
A regal inclination of her head confirmed that Her Ladyship was pleased
to accept such an office, although Christy knew from observing her
mother's experience that she would be the one who was called upon to do
all the running around. Not that she minded, she needed something to
occupy those hours when she was not taking care of her mother, and
organising the ball wasn't likely to bring her into any contact with
Dominic.
The Major was appointed to take care of the financial side of things,
and Christy wondered if she was the only one to observe the petulant
droop of Amanda mouth when all the nominations had been confirmed.
Her only verbal objection to Christy's appointment had been a pouted,
"Dominic, there was really no need to involve Miss Marsden. I'm sure
that my godmother's social secretary would have been more than pleased
to handle all the details. She is terribly experienced at that sort of
thing. She organised my coming out ball and the wedding."
"That's very kind of you, Amanda," was Dominic's diplomatic reply, 'but
it would hardly be fair of us to deprive your godmother of her
secretary, especially since we couldn't afford to pay for her services.
"
The meeting broke up a little later than Christy had expected. They
were the last to leave because she had to collect the plates from the
kitchen, and she wanted to wash them first.
As she had dreaded that he might do, she heard her father inviting
Dominic back for supper. Her body tensed as she waited to hear his
acceptance, and then went stiffer still when he said apologetically,
"I'm afraid I can't tonight. I've already agreed to dine with Lady
Anthony and Amanda." He glanced at his watch as he spoke, and Christy
felt a furious stab of resentment that he should make it so obvious
that he was anxious for them to leave--a resentment that was entirely
on her father's behalf, she assured herself, as she picked up her
plates.
"We'll leave you to get ready for your date then, Dominic." She gave
him a smile as icy as her words.
"I should hate you to have to keep Amanda waiting on our behalf."
Of course, once they got home, her mother wanted to hear about
everything that had gone on.
"You're supposed to be resting," Christy scolded her, but nevertheless,
she made three mugs of coffee and took them upstairs on a tray together
with some of the scones she had baked. Perching on the side of her
mother's bed, she told her about the evening.
"Lady Anthony's god-daughter," Mrs. Marsden murmured at one point.
"Oh, yes, Dominic said that she was staying at the Manor. What's she
like?
Dominic said that she'd recently gone through a rather bad divorce. "
Recalling the animosity and the innate coldness she had sensed in the
other woman, Christy lifted her eyebrows a little.
"She's very attractive--brunette and petite but she and I didn't
exactly take to one another."
"Of course not," her mother agreed.
"She wants Dominic, and she'll have heard all about how close the pair
of you used to be. She's bound to be resentful of the fact that you've
come home." She saw Christy's face, and it was her turn for her
eyebrows to lift in surprised amusement.
"Oh, come on, Christy love, you're not that naive," she teased.
"You and Dominic were very close at one time. We live in a very
enclosed community round here; you can hardly expect that there weren't
those who, shall we say, wondered out loud whether your childhood
friendship might lead to something closer?"
"You mean people gossiped about us," Christy put in bitterly.
"If you want to put it like that, but it was never unkind gossip. It's
only natural that people should be interested in one another. Dominic
and his family are very popular around here, and I personally always
thought there was something rather noble and endearing about the way he
allowed you to follow him around. It can't have been easy for him at
times, especially in the early days, when he was only a teenager
himself."
"Well, Amanda has no need to feel jealous or resentful towards me.
Dominic and I are both adults now. "
^ "Mmm ... perhaps that's what she's afraid of," her mother commented
cryptically, but she wouldn't be pressed into giving Christy an
explanation of her remark. Not that Christy needed one. It was as
clear as though she had spelled it out for her. As adults, she and
Dominic were now both free to pursue the sort of relationship they
could never have had before. The eight years that separated them meant
nothing now.
But far more than mere age held them apart, and always would do, and
despite the local romantic imaginings, she and Dominic would never be
more than distantly polite enemies.
She changed the subject, telling her mother about the potential site
for the new health centre that they were going to see, and asking her
what she thought about her idea for the masked ball.
"I think it's an excellent one," she told her promptly.
"So romantic. "
"That's what the Major said." They both giggled as Christy repeated
the Major's reaction to her proposals, the atmosphere lightening a
little.
"Poor man; he's never married, you know, and he's the type who probably
cherishes some impossibly romantic idea of a girl who never even knew
that he cared about her. He's one of these old-fashioned true
gentlemen who don't seem to exist any more."
"Rather like Lady Anthony. She's another anachronism in many ways."
"Mmm... They're very much of an age, as well." Her mother yawned
hugely, and Christy, remembering that she was still supposed to be
recuperating, got up off the bed hastily.
"I'm tiring you, and you're supposed to be resting. I'm tired myself,
as a matter of fact. I think I'll have an early night."
She was tired, but not so tired that she didn't wonder as she lay in
bed how Dominic was enjoying himself with Amanda. A queer, bitter
little pain seemed to come out of nowhere and curled itself around her
heart. A funny pain that had no logical explanation, and which because
of its very lack of logicality worried her even more.
22-11-07, 03:28 PM
جديد مواضيع قسم الارشيف
العرض العادي
