[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

to prepare a scratch meal for the two of them.
The rest of the day flew past. In bed that night she wondered how she would
feel when she reached London. She could not see herself away from
Saintpel. Whenever she tried, the image dissolved. She had always been
here, running her father's house, looking after her brother and sister, helping
in the surgery. Her whole idea of herself was set in a rigid framework of
habit. Now that framework was being pulled away and she had no idea what
things would be like when it had gone.
She fell asleep at last, her mind still disturbed, and had strange unsettling
dreams which lingered in her thoughts after she had got up and begun to
make the breakfast.
Fran studied the list with a little frown. ^
'Do you think you understand it all?' Lisa asked anxiously.
'Of course I do. It seems quite straightforward,' said Fran. 'Look, stop
fussing, Lisa. I can cope.'
Lisa was almost puzzled by Fran's helpful attitude. For so long Fran had
been reluctant to help at home, skipping out of any work she was asked to
do. Now she seemed eager to do everything, eager to get Lisa off to London,
pressing her to go and forget all about the housework.
Doctor Baynard drove Lisa to the station before he set out on his rounds. The
journey from Cornwall was a long one, and it would be late afternoon when
she reached London. He urged her to make sure of a good meal on the train.
'Don't skip lunch, now. It will help to pass the time, don't forget. Have you
got enough to read? Can I buy you some magazines?'
'I've got two books,' she said quickly. 'I don't need anything else. I shall
enjoy just looking out of the window. It's so long since I went on a train.'
She kissed her father on the cheek and got into the carriage, arranging her
books and her coat on the rack above. Her father slid her case in beside them,
then got down onto the platform again.
'Enjoy yourself,' he said gently.
She leaned out of the window, waving until he was out of sight. Then she sat
back in her seat and stared out at the fields as they flashed past.
She had not seen Peter to say goodbye. He had rung up in the evening to tell
her he was busy with some work connected with an art exhibition, and she
had told him about the holiday. Peter had seemed surprised, but he had not
tried to talk her out of it. On the contrary, he had urged her to buy plenty of
new clothes in London. Their conversation had been brief, almost formal.
When he had rung off Lisa had turned to find Fran watching her anxiously,
and the new suspicions planted in her mind by Matt had grown more likely
as she met Fran's furtive glance.
'What did Peter say?' Fran had asked.
'Nothing much,' she had replied casually.
Fran had turned away, her face troubled.
Looking back, Lisa felt a new enlightenment. Was it possible that Fran was
as interested in Peter as he was in Fran? Could the hidden attraction be
'mutual?
Were Peter and Fran aware of it, though? Or were they still hating each other
on the surface?
She looked out of the window at the pale autumn sky, shot with filmy light,
as delicate as a dragonfly's wing. Did all this exist, anyway? Or was it all
merely the conjured myth of Matt Wolfe's devious mind? He had the actor's
ability to convey a ring of truth even in his weakest tall stories. Somehow
those cruel, beautiful blue eyes could compel faith. When he talked about
Peter being attracted to Fran, somehow she had been forced to believe him.
A wave of cold shock ran over her. Had she even wanted to believe him?
Hadn't she felt a great relief at the thought?
All these years she and Peter had talked of getting married, had she ever
really believed it, wanted it? Wasn't that why she had never made any real
attempt to find a way out of her problems with her family? They had been an
excuse all these years. She had used them as a shield against Peter.
The words were vaguely familiar as she thought them. Then she
remembered, biting her lip.
Hadn't she accused Matt of using her, of making her a shield behind which
he could hide?
She had been so bitterly indignant about it, yet she herself had been doing
the same thing for years. People did use each other in that shamefully selfish
way. She thought of herself hurling wild accusations at Matt and shuddered
with distaste. How self-righteous could you get? No wonder he had been [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

  • zanotowane.pl
  • doc.pisz.pl
  • pdf.pisz.pl
  • alwayshope.keep.pl

    •