Masquerade. Part 12

She moved away quickly, and sweeping her hair back from her face, she said: "I don't care what you do, Mr. Mallory!"

Patrick watched her for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders.

"All right, let's go."

His voice was cool again, and Samantha, attuned to his every nuance, felt herself grow cold. Why had she repulsed him like that? He had not tried to be rude to her. His words had been only gently jibing, with a world of warmth behind them. Now she had been rude and he sounded as though he had expected no better of her.

They walked along the corridor to the lift and on impulse she slid her arm through his. He looked down at her, his eyes unfathomable.

"I'm sorry," she murmured quietly. "I was b.i.t.c.hy, wasn't I?"

"Hm." His voice was soft again, and his fingers slid down her arm until they curved round hers. His hand was cool and hard and she felt her bones beginning to melt. He drew her close against him for a moment and then he pushed her gently into the lift.

Samantha did not know what it all meant. She had wan ted to make friends with him and now this had happened. It was entirely unexpected and she supposed she was mak ing more of it than necessary. After all, he was only hold ing her hand, and as he thought she was a teenager, he probably saw himself as a father figure. Particularly with Barbara in the background.

When the lift halted at the ground floor, Samantha re leased herself and preceded him out of the hotel. A low-slung sports saloon was waiting for them, and she looked round at Patrick.

"Is this yours?"

"Yes. It's an Aston Martin. Do you like it?"

"Mmn, it's fabulous. Where do I sit?"

They had reached the car by this time and Andrew slid out of the front seat beside the driver's.

"Where would you like to sit?" asked Patrick, smiling slightly. "Beside me?"

"If you want me to." Samantha was unconsciously al luring and Patrick felt his senses beginning to swim a little.

"You ... you'd better sit in the back with Drew," he murmured at last. "Barbara will expect to sit in front."

"All right." Samantha shrugged, but she cast a strange look at Patrick before stepping into the car.

When they reached Belgrade Square, Patrick went up to collect Barbara and Samantha and Andrew were left alone in the back of the car.

Andrew slid his arm around her and said: "This is cosy."

Samantha smiled, a little wearily. "Yes, isn't it? Howl long will they be?"

"Knowing Barbara,1 really couldn't say," replied An drew, grinning. "After all, she may not be ready."

"But Patrick said six o'clock, and it's after that now."

Andrew chuckled. "How refres.h.i.+ng to meet a woman who doesn't know that she should keep a man waiting!"

"But why?"

Andrew looked thoughtful. "Well, let me see... a man who has to wait for a woman is made more impatient and consequently when he sees her, her absence has made his heart grow fonder."

"You're laughing at me!" Samantha was indignant. "Not really, sweetheart. Anyway, I should think Pat will hurry her up tonight. He doesn't seem as enamoured of Barbara as he used to be. He went to Italy for a holiday, but primarily I think to define his feelings towards] your mother. She's made no secret of her feelings for him and Pat isn't one to rush into anything like marriage without due thought." He laughed. "After all, he hasn't stayed a bachelor all these years and remained a celibate. He used to be quite wild in his youth. Now he doesn't have to make any effort at all. His success as a writer has opened all sorts of doors for him. He was always ... well, quite wealthy, you understand, bur before becoming known in the theatre world, his friends were confined to the ... er .... upper bracket. You know what I mean?"

"Not really."

Andrew stared laughingly at her. "You mean you don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Well, I should have thought Barbara would have told you.

His father was a peer." He shook his head disbelievingly "Don't you know about Killaney?"

"What's Killaney?"

"It's in Ireland; His estate. He owns a large estate in bounty Galway. You've heard of Galway, I suppose?"

"Well, yes, vaguely." Samantha was amazed. "I didn't know."

Andrew shook his head. "If he knew I'd told you he would probably slay me. He hates any form of sn.o.bbery."

"And does he go to Ireland much?"

"Well, the estate has a manager by the name of Michael O'Hara; a good old Irish name that! And Mike sees to everything for him. Pat spends most of his time in London, although I think deep inside of him, he'd like to liye in Killaney.

It's a beautiful place. All green gra.s.s and rolling hills, with the sound of water in your ears when you go to sleep."

"You sound quite lyrical."

"Killaney's like that. It's a poet's paradise. You must get Barbara to go there so that you can go with her."

"Hm. That's highly unlikely." She looked suddenly at him.

"Why didn't you telephone?"

"But I did! Twice!"

Samantha looked puzzled. "But I don't understand. I didn't get your calls."

"No. Your mother and grandmother respectively advised me you were not available. I decided you were giving pie the brush-off."

"Brush-off?"

"You knew! Oh, telling me you didn't want to see me any more, in so many words." "But that's not true! I was quite hurt when you had said you would phone and you didn't, or so I thought. There were so many places I wanted to visit and now we're leaving for Daven in the morning, and I won't see them for goodness knows how long!"

"Well, I'm sorry, honey, but I did phone. Perhaps your relations didn't like the idea of your going out with me."

"Apparently that's the case, but why ?"

Andrew shrugged and just then the car door opened and j Barbara stepped blithely into the seat beside the driver.

"h.e.l.lo, you two," she said sweetly. "How nice for you, here in the gloom. Have you been behaving yourselves ? "

As Patrick was getting in at the other side as she was speaking, Samantha felt her cheeks flame. She felt sure her mother was merely saying that to make it obvious to Patrick that they were two youngsters together.

Patrick himself barely glanced at them, before starting the powerful engine and putting the car in motion, but that did nothing to ease Samantha's annoyance.

Once out of London the car moved swiftly over the roads]

towards Sandwich. Barbara kept up a flow of conversation! at the front, answered spasmodically by Patrick, who seemed to be concentrating on his driving. It was getting quite dark already and the road ahead was brightly illuminated by the beam of the headlights.

Samantha, devoid of any desire to talk, found she was staring blindly along the stream of the lights and not seeing anything at all. Her only desire was to arrive at their destination and then make herself a inconspicuous as possible.

Patrick drove smoothly and expertly as Samantha have been sure he would. There was no harsh grinding of gears^ no skidding on corners, just an easy rhythm which com municated itself to her. She felt she could have gone to sleep, so relaxing was the journey, but before her head dropped on to Andrew's shoulder, the car had turned be tween the wrought iron gates which led up a drive to his sister's house.

The Frazers lived just outside Sandwich and it was almost eight o'clock when the Aston Martin cruised to a stop outside the old, converted mansion which the Frazers occupied.

The house had been built in the days when money and land were no object and it spread over a wide area. It was surrounded by a high wall, but as it was perched on the [cliffs, the back opened on to a private beach where the barbecue was to be held. There were several cars already [parked in the drive and after Patrick .had stopped the car, [Samantha slid out willingly, glad to stretch her legs.

At their arrival, several children came darting out of the h towards them, flinging themselves ecstatically at Patrick, who produced sweets and chocolates from the pockets of his coat, and swung, the youngest, a girl, high on to his shoulders.

Barbara stood watching with some distaste, but Sam antha moved forward eagerly. She had always loved chil dren and since her arrival in England she had met none at all.

Andrew grinned at her and said: "Those two urchins there are Debbie and Donald. They're the twins, Patrick's got Jennifer and this is Fran ... short for Francesca, of course. The twins are eight, Fran's ten and Jennifer's five.

The only one you haven't met is Steven. He's fourteen, but he's at boarding school at the moment, so I'm afraid you'll have to save that doubtful pleasure for later."

Samantha laughed. It was wonderful, she thought enviously, to have brothers and sisters like this. If only her family had been a normal happy one. If only she had had dose contacts like these.

Patrick came over to them, still with Jennifer on his boulders.

"Well!" he said. "What do you think of the rabble?"

"I think it's wonderful!" Samantha exclaimed warmly.

"I was just envying them their complete lack of inhibi tions. How wonderful to have a family like this!"

Patrick smiled,' gently, at her. "Wait until you get mar ried,"

he said, "and have a family of your own. Then the pleasure will be yours."

Samantha looked up at him, her tongue running lightly over her upper lip, "I know," she murmured softly. "I mean to have heaps of them."

"I'm sure you will," he said, so that only she could hear, and she turned away, unable to control her emotions.

The smell of the sea and seaweed was in her nostrils and she felt a wave of homesickness for Italy engulf herd It was all so familiar, but she no longer had a home there and no father to make her feel the security, she now lacked.

The twins looked rather suspiciously at Barbara. They had met her before and were not impressed. She always wore too much perfume in their opinion and tonight she was wearing a slim fitting suit of heavy green silk to attend a party on the beach. It was stupid!

Fran attached herself to Samantha as they walked into the house to meet the children's parents and the other guests, who, Fran said, were having a pre-barbecue drink in the lounge.

"Are you Drew's girl-friend?" asked Fran, curiously, studying Samantha.

"Not really," replied Samantha, smiling. "I'm Misa Harriet's daughter."

"Barbara Harriet? You mean, Uncle Patrick's Barbara Harriet?" Fran was obviously astonished.

"Yes. Why?"

"Well, I didn't even know she was married."

"She's not now. Her husband's dead. At least I should say my father is dead. That sounds better."

"Oh! Then why does she call herself 'Miss' Harriet? Surely she should be 'Mrs'."

"Well, yes. Actually she should be Mrs. Kingsley, but theatre people always use their unmarried names. At least usually." Fran grimaced. "You're not a bit like her."

"No. Well, I wouldn't be, would I? I'm much younger and more insignificant than she is."

"What does that mean?"

"Insignificant?"

"Yes."

Samantha smiled. It was unusual for her to have to ex plain the meaning of a word to anybody. It was usually the other way about. She looked round at Andrew who was just behind, and he grinned.

"Yes, I heard," he said. "Do you really know?"

Samantha raised her eyebrows indignantly and turning round she punched him playfully in the stomach, laughing. Andrew pretended to be mortally wounded and the twins, seeing the fun, came to a.s.sist. It was all uproarious and youthful and Barbara looked triumphantly at Patrick.

"You were right," she said silkily. "Samantha is enjoy ing herself. Children always seem to enjoy themselves, don't they?"

Patrick hoisted Jennifer to the floor, protesting that she was too heavy, and then looked at his companion.

"Do I take it that adults never enjoy themselves?" he asked sardonically.

"You're deliberately misunderstanding me," retorted Barbara, and marched primly up the steps and into the house.

The Frazers were a couple in their forties. They had been married for nearly twenty years and were still very much in love with one another. Gina, Patrick's sister, was a tall slim woman, built very much on the same lines as Samantha, and her dark hair was still barely touched with grey. Giles, her husband, was a broad, fair-skinned, fair-haired man with the beginnings of a paunch, about which the children and Gina teased him unmercifully. He took it all in good part and welcomed Samantha and her mother warmly.

The other guests turned out to be two couples who lived in the neighbourhood, a solicitor and his wife and a retired Colonel and his unmarried daughter, Elizabeth; and sev eral young people who were friends of Andrew and Francesca.

Everyone, with the exception of Barbara, was dressed in casual clothes, slacks mainly and bulky sweaters for the cool sea breezes on the beach. Barbara, who had brought a short fur jacket, donned that before descending to the sands and Samantha felt rather sorry for her. But it was not Barbara's nature to go anywhere without looking her dazzling best and as slacks had never suited her rather short legs, she preferred to wear something more femi nine.

The ma.s.sive charcoal burner on the beach had been set up by the staff and tables had been set out; wooden trestles with wooden forms for sitting on. There was every imag inable kind of food, from thick, juicy steaks to the lightest of meat patties, wrapped in lettuce with sliced tomato and tiny cuc.u.mber straws.

A buffet table was loaded down with all the more accepted forms of food for a party, like jel lies, ice-cream (s.h.i.+vered at by everyone but the children), fruit salads, stuffed eggs, waffles, shrimps, prawns, toast spread with caviare and pate, and oysters served on their sh.e.l.ls. There was also an a.s.sortment of cakes and pas tries, mouth-watering in their richness.

Samantha, unused even yet to such abundance of every- thing, stared in amazement and only when the children set the record player going did she rouse herself from her stupefaction and dance with Andrew.