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bedrooms, a huge and draughty drawing-room, a panelled dining-
room and a muddle of other rooms downstairs, often oddly shaped
and very eccentric in design. It was hardly convenient or modern but
it had a certain style and character and the Nesbitts loved it, even
Aunt Dolly, who had to do most of the housework, except at
weekends when Liz and Melanie helped her. As Aunt Dolly always
said, 'You can tell the man who had this house built expected
someone else to keep it tidy. All very well for him all those
servants! How much easier life was in those days.'
'Except for the servants,' Liz usually said in her d^y-way, and Aunt
Dolly would laugh and say that Liz was so down to earth, not at all
romantic.
'A very handsome house,' Jamie Knox murmured, his eyes flicking
over it from the delicate fanlight above the door to the little gables in
the roof. The shabby stucco had a creamy glow in the sunlight; the
house looked loved and contented, the small garden in the front was
rich with dahlias and chrysanthemums; golden amber, rust, dark
blood- red. A spiky cluster of Michaelmas daisies bloomed near the
wall, their petals visited by bees and butterflies on this surprisingly
summery morning, so that the air was full of a busy hum, a flutter of
wings.
'Thank you for driving me back here,' Melanie said stiltedly. 'And for
. . . for everything you did.' She felt ungrateful he had, after all,
gone to a lot of trouble for her and she hadn't really thanked him
properly. She would have been more fervent in her thanks with
almost any other man, but Jamie Knox had made it difficult for her to
be too nice to him. He might misread friendliness. He seemed to
misread most things.
He got out and came round to help her down, his hand under her
elbow. 'I'll see you to the door then come back for your case,' he said,
urging her towards the gate.
'I can manage. The case can stay in the car for the moment,' she said
firmly, and glanced up the- road. 'If you walk to the top of this road
you'll get a bus straight into the centre of town. They're very frequent
and it isn't far.'
He didn't relinquish her arm, indeed his fingers tightened on it.
'Got your door key?' he enquired, somehow managing to make her
keep walking through the gate and up the path with its black and
white Victorian tiles, laid in a symmetrical diamond pattern. A few
had been cracked over the years, and some were missing altogether,
but the path had a certain style, like the house, which Melanie loved.
He was still being kind; she didn't like to dismiss him too
peremptorily, so she produced her key and he took it and inserted it
into the door. The door was reluctant to open; it needed oiling but
none of them ever remembered until the matter became crucial, and
the heavy rain over the weekend had obviously warped the timbers
further, because when Jamie pushed it politely the door didn't budge
and he had to let go of Melanie to use his full strength on it.
At his shove, the door fell open with a protesting creak and Jamie
tumbled into the house leaving Melanie outside, which was why Liz,
seeing a complete stranger crashing through the front door, leapt
down the last two stairs and faced him with one of her father's
walking sticks grabbed up from the hallstand.
'Who are you?' she asked firmly. 'And what are you doing?'
Melanie hobbled into the hall at that instant and her cousin's voice
halted.
'Melly? What's wrong with your foot?' Trust Liz to be so sharp-eyed
and observant, thought Melanie, hurriedly smiling at her.
'I had a tumble when I was climbing, it's nothing much, just a slight
sprain.'
Liz slowly slid the walking-stick back into the hallstand, her eyes
moving to Jamie Knox enquiringly.
'I drove her back because she couldn't drive with one ankle out of
operation,' he said lightly, smiling. 'My name's Knox, Jamie Knox.
You must be Liz? I've heard a lot about you.'
Liz's eyebrows arched. 'Really? All of it good, I hope.' She glanced at
her cousin with interest. 'You have had a busy weekend.'
Melanie's cheeks stung with hot colour and she looked away. It was
bad luck finding Liz at home.
'Why aren't you at work?' she asked, wishing Liz hadn't seen Jamie [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]