Then She Fled Me (9 page)

“
We don
’
t want you to go—any of us,
”
she said.
“
I—I hope you
’
ll give us a trial, Mr. Flint. I
’
ll try and see that you
’
re more comfortable. You see—we
’
ve none of us had strangers living in our house before.
”

He suddenly liked her very much, the odd, prickly little creature, and he realized at the same moment that a feeling of liking for his fellows had been a stranger to him for a very long time. He had no right to resent the fact that she had no liking for him.

“
I
’
m sorry,
”
he said more gently.
“
I was forgetting this is your home. Well, let
’
s see how we get along for another week or so, shall we?
”

The familiar thumping on the piano started again and he exclaimed with exasperation:

“
Why on earth do they always have to play
The Merry
Peasant?
”

“
Is that what it is?
”
said Sarah with interest.
“
I
’
ve often
wondered. I think it
’
s the only piece they know.
”

Upon thinking the matter over Sarah felt chastened. She had certainly not done very much to make the Englishman feel welcome since his arrival. Perhaps it would have been easier had he wanted to share their everyday pursuits as Miss Dearlove did, but it was difficult to get to know anyone who so clearly resented intrusion. Even had she any desire to approach him
l
ess formally, she felt that he would snub unmercifully all but the most superficial gestures of friendl
i
ness. Kathy said she did not feel this herself, but it would be difficult to snub
Kathy,
and Sarah was sure that their guest
’
s tongue was less sharp and his manner more gentle when dealing with her sister.

But they none of them saw much of them. He kept rigidly to the nursery except for his morning
’
s stroll round the garden while his room was being done, and last thing at night when he went out to get a breath of air, often after everyone had gone to bed.

Kathy asked him shyly if he would come down and joi
n
them after supper one evening when Joe was there. It was difficult to refuse and not appear churlish, but he accepted with the mental reservation that he was not going to allow himself to be drawn into this sort of thing. Before he knew where he was he would find himself swept into the Riordan
’
s erratic way of life, and the peace of mind he had so painfully acquired would be taken from him.

He was stiff with them at first, and felt himself to be an intruder on the laughter and voices which he had been able to hear from the nursery, but they made him welcome, pulling him to the fire, Danny proffering peppermints, Aunt Em continuing her darning after a nod of greeting, Kathy, flushed and pleased, introducing him to Joe with an innocent pride. Only Sarah, her green eyes troubled, whispered:
“
You didn
’
t need to come, you know. We would have understood.
”

“
Very kind of you and very good for me, no doubt,
”
he replied, warming to her for her perception.

“
It was nice of you,
”
she said.
“
Kathy would have been hurt if you
’
d refused.
”

He began to relax. Even Miss Dearlove, though her remarks were as arch as ever, seemed more subdued than usual, and when Kathy said in her soft voice:
“
Do tell us why you play your records in such a funny way, Mr. Flint—we
’
ve been dying of curiosity,
”
he felt no annoyance at this public intrusion into his affairs.

“
I hadn
’
t thought it might sound odd,
”
he said.
“
But the explanation
’
s quite simple. I
’
m writing a book on music composed for the keyboard and I
’
m picking out examples of piano recordings to illustrate my points.
”

“
Oh!
”
said Kathy on a quick breath.
“
How—how exciting. You have some lovely records. I would love to hear them properly.
”

“
So you shall,
”
he replied.
“
You must borrow my gramophone sometime.
”

She looked disappointed, and Sarah knew she had hoped to be asked to his room.

“
Have you heard Kathy play, Mr. Flint?
”
Miss Dearlove asked impressively.
“
Dear child, do show Mr. Flint what you can do. For once you will have a really
appreciative
audience.
”

“
I don
’
t think
—”
Kathy began doubtfully, but
Adrian said:
“
Please do, Miss Riordan,
”
and she went to the piano.

She played some Schumann and a light, trivial little drawing room piece which delighted Miss Dearlove
’
s sense of whimsy. Sarah, sitting a little behind Adrian, watched his profile in the shadows. His face held only polite attention, but she noticed he was at his old trick of rubbing his finger joints.

“
Thank you,
”
he said, when Kathy had finished. She waited for
something further, but it was Miss Dearlove, clapping her hands with rather foolish abandon, who gushed:
“
Charming, dear child! You would make a professional. Don
’
t you think she would make a professional, Mr. Flint?
”

“
You have a nice touch, Miss Riordan,
”
Adrian said politely, and Joe immediately asked for his favorite Londonderry A
i
r.

“
You really know about music, don
’
t you?
”
said Sarah softly under cover of the music.

Adrian turned his head and realized she had been watching him.

“
A little,
”
he replied lightly.
“
Your sister plays very well.
”

She smiled at him, and her smile hinted at things of which she could not possibly know.

“
Do you have any hidden talents?
”
he asked quickly to avoid the odd little moment of intimacy.

She grinned, wrinkling
her nose at him, and the impre
ss
ion passed.

“I? I’ve no talents, hidden or otherwise,” she told him carelessly. “I whistle—sometimes I even sing, but no one would want to
l
isten to me.”

Kathy had stopped playing, and Aunt Em asked quietly from her corner by the fire:

“
Do you suffer from rheumatism, Mr. Flint?
”

“
I don
’
t think so.
”
He looked puzzled.

“
I only asked because I notice you have a little habit of massaging your fingers,
”
she said.
“
I do it myself in the wet weather.
”

He looked at his hands with an expression of curious distaste, then thrust them suddenly into his pockets. Very soon after, he said goodnight and went back to his room.

“
A little abrupt, isn
’
t he?
”
observed Miss Dearlove generally.
“
Wh
a
t do
you
make of our Mr. Flint, Mr. Kavanagh?
”

“
Seemed all right to me,
”
said Joe casually.
“
Probably a very good chap when you get to know him. Scarcely the paralytic old dodderer of your imagination, eh, Sarah?
”

“
I wish
—”
said Sarah slowly, twisting her hands together.

“
What? That a fine romance would spring up, between you or Kathy? He
’
s quite nice-looking, you know.
”

“
Nothing,
”
said Sarah briefly.
“
I
’
m going to do my farm rounds.
”

She was in the stables, which now housed nothing but a couple of farm horses and the donkey, when she heard Joe
’
s step, and looked round in surprise.

“
I was only teasing, Sarah,
”
he said gently.

“
I should hope so! You don
’
t want to go putting those sort of ideas into Kathy
’
s head.
”

“
I could wish the gentleman really was a paralytic old dodderer,
”
he said with wry humor.

Sarah caught him by the shoulders and shook him.

“
Joe Kavanagh, what
’
s got into you?
”
she demanded.
“
Of course Flint thinks she
’
s lovely.
“
What man wouldn
’
t? If you marry Kathy you
’
ll have to get used to that.
”

“
Yes, I know. Actually, it didn
’
t strike me that he was particularly interested in her.
”

“
Then what are you fussing about?
”

He sighed.

“
I don
’
t know. I thought the way she spoke to him—
”

“
You thought she might become interested in him? For shame on you, Joe, and you not seeing that Kathy has the finest manners of us all and would make any man welcome. As for anything else—why, he
’
d never do for Kathy, a cold, stuck-up Englishman with a tongue on him like a razor.
”

He laughed.

“
No more he would. What were you going to say when you began
‘
I wish,
’
Sarah?
”

She kicked a bucket out of the way and shut the stable door.

“
I was going to say I wished I had been nicer to him, for I thought tonight that he was troubled, but now I
’
m not so sure. I
’
m not so sure he wasn
’
t being British and superior about Kathy
’
s playing.
”

He looked at her with surprise.

“
What fresh notion is this?
”
he asked.
“
I thought he was polite and quite complimentary.
”

She reached up and gave the lobe of his ear a sharp tug.
“
Sometimes I can understand why she won
’
t make up her
mind about you, Joe dear,
”
she said.
“
Ah, well, I don
’
t doubt we
’
re both wrong. I
’
ll race you ba
ck
to the house, only you must give me a start.
”

Up in the nursery Adrian heard them as they raced
across the lawn, shouting and laughing. He felt the old bitterness and frustration returning to plague him and give him a sleepless night. Not again would he allow himself to be dragged out of the quiet, unemotional world he had so carefully built for himself.

Sarah
’
s young voice came clearly to him from the terrace.
“
Oh, Joe, look! A falling star! We must wish. Take my hand and wish for what you want most in all the world.
”