- -
- 100%
- +
He gave her a smile, full of delight and a kind of wonder at receiving praise, and started again from the beginning. While she listened, Melanie’s mind was working furiously.
The following afternoon she sought out Mrs. Harris, the school music teacher, and found in her an ally. “Giles Haverill…” she said with concentrated loathing, then checked herself. “I’m sorry, I know he’s your employer—”
“Don’t stop on my account,” Melanie said. “I don’t like him, either. But he left me in charge of David and I’d like him to be in the concert. With any luck Mr. Haverill won’t even be back until it’s over.”
David’s joy, when she told him, was so great that she thought he would fling his arms about her. But the moment passed, and he retreated behind the barrier of caution with which he protected himself.
She began to practice the piece with him. She never had to tell him anything twice. These were their happiest times together. It was an effort not to reach out and stroke the shiny fair head bent earnestly over the piano. It was even harder not to gather him up in a hug. But the painful years had taught her patience. She must wait for that hug.
“Try it again,” she said one evening. “I love listening to you.”
He went through the piece easily, smiling at her as he mastered a tricky place, and she smiled back. They were sitting like that when Giles walked in.
“What’s this?” he asked quietly.
They both looked up quickly, and Melanie felt David flinch and move toward her. His lips moved in the word “Daddy!” but his voice was nervous.
Giles’s face was very pale, and his lips were set in a hard line. It seemed to Melanie that his face showed only anger. She didn’t know that he’d heard his son’s whispered word, seen him recoil, and felt as though something had struck him in the chest.
“Aren’t you going to say hello to me, son?” he asked.
David slipped obediently from the piano stool and went across to Giles, who went down on one knee to look him full in the face. David put his arms about his father, but it seemed to Melanie that he did so reluctantly. Giles felt it, too, and hardened himself against the hurt. When he arose his face was grim. “Who unlocked the piano?” he asked.
“I did,” Melanie said. “And I need to talk to you. I’ll come to your study when I’ve put David to bed.”
As they walked out of the room, he heard her saying, “Don’t worry, David. Everything will be all right, I promise.”
There was a protective note in her voice, Giles noted. She was protecting David against him.
In his study he poured himself a stiff brandy and waited for her, not at all relishing the way she’d taken the initiative in this meeting. It occurred to him that he disliked this woman. When she appeared, her face bore none of the unease he was used to seeing in his subordinates when they presented themselves for criticism. “What the devil do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “How dared you encourage him to defy me!”
“And how dared you break that child’s heart by denying him one of the few comforts he has!” she flung back. “How could you be so cruel, so callous?”
“I have good reasons for what I do—”
“There are no good reasons for hurting an eight-yearold child,” she said firmly.
He paused to take a long breath, but before he could hurl his anger and bitterness at her he was swamped by weariness. He sat down abruptly and closed his eyes, and the words that came out of his mouth, much against his will, were, “I haven’t slept for forty-eight hours.” He pulled himself forcibly together. “I don’t know what David’s told you—”
“The truth. He’s a very honest boy. He says you stopped his lessons because he got behind at school. Naturally he blames himself.”
“Why naturally?”
“Because he blames himself for everything that happens. Didn’t you know that?”
He shook his head, dumbly. He had a great longing to close his eyes.
“He told me how you’d pulled him out of the concert, too,” Melanie said. “I was astonished. I’d have thought you would seize the chance to boost David’s confidence, and give him an hour of happiness that will help him cope with the past dreadful year.”
“I see. So what did you do, Miss Haynes? For I feel very sure that you did something.”
“I put him back in the concert. He’s so happy about it that for the last two nights he hasn’t even wet his bed. And that’s made him even happier. But of course you can always go up and tell him that it’s all off.”
He eyed her shrewdly. “You’re a very clever woman.”
“Are you going to do that—and break his heart?”
“Of all the disgracefully loaded questions—!” he exploded. “Look, if I agree to this concert, there must be no more encouraging him to defy me. We have to lay down some ground rules, and you must abide by them. I’m glad you and David seem to get along well, but he’s my son, not yours. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly,” she said in a colorless voice.
“Very well. Now we’ve got that clear, he can do the concert.”
“And you’ll be there?”
“What?”
“It’s a pity that we can’t tell him you rushed home on purpose to see him, but it’s a bit late for that now. Never mind, we’ll have to make the best of it.”
“Good of you,” he said shortly. But irony was lost on her, he realized. “It’s out of the question. I’m behind on my appointments because I’ve been away. I can’t take an evening off. Is David’s life really going to be blighted if I don’t come to listen to him playing the piano in a drafty school hall?”
“His life will be blighted if you don’t show him that he’s vitally important to you.”
“I do that every day—”
“Not in ways that mean anything to him. He’s eight. He doesn’t care that you’re out there building an industrial empire, but he does care that you treat his big moment as though it mattered. Weren’t you ever in a school performance?”
“For pity’s sake! I don’t recall my parents turning out to my school functions. It hasn’t damaged me.”
She looked at him levelly. “Well, you know best about that, of course.”
He took a deep breath. “What’s the exact date? I’m too jet-lagged to work it out.”
She told him, crossing her fingers for the miracle. But it didn’t come. “I’m sorry,” he said. “There’s a banquet on that night—it’s what I came back for—I’m making a speech—there are going to be government ministers there—for heaven’s sake, surely you can understand?” His voice rose in irritation.
“Of course,” she said crisply. “I understand perfectly. So will David. Good night, Mr. Haverill.”
When she’d gone, he sat staring into space, a prey to turbulent emotions. Pictures danced before him—David sitting at the piano, his head close to that woman, exchanging smiles with her. His flinching at the sight of his father. It had been a mistake to let her into the house. He’d known that on the day they met. She’d stood there in the bay of the window, with the light falling on her lovely face and deep, mysterious eyes, and he’d been filled with alarm. He didn’t know why he should be afraid of this young woman, who seemed to have an immediate empathy with David. After all, that was what he’d hoped for when he hired her. But he had the feeling of having released a genie that had got far beyond his control. And tonight, when he’d seen David turn to her, seeking refuge from his own father, he’d known that by some mysterious process she was stealing his son.
He passed a hand over his eyes, wishing his head didn’t ache so.
Three
On the afternoon of David’s concert, Giles said to Melanie, “I thought a lot about what you said—about David needing his parents there to cheer him on.”
“Yes?” she urged eagerly.
“So I called Zena this morning, to see if she would go. But all I got was the answering machine saying they were away for a few days.”
She sighed. “Well, it looks as though David will have to make do with me.”
“I just wanted you to know that I tried,” he said, and even to his own ears his voice sounded hollow.
To the last minute, she clung to the hope that Giles would change his mind, but when she saw him descend the stairs in white tie and tails she knew he hadn’t dressed up for a school concert.
David, too, was ready to leave. Giles placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Good luck,” he said. “Make me proud of you.”
“Yes, Daddy.” David’s voice was expressionless and his face had become a mask again. Melanie threw an angry look at Giles, but he was already walking away and didn’t see it. She wanted to shout after him, “How can you be proud of him if you’re not there?”
Then she wondered at her own thoughts. She would have David’s big moment all to herself, free from Giles Haverill’s intrusion. As his mother, what more could she ask?
But it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t the one David wanted. Giles might be neglectful, overbearing and insensitive, but his little son adored him and lived for his praise. And she, who loved David more than anything in life, wanted only his happiness.
In the school hall she made sure of getting a seat where David could see her, and led the applause when he appeared. She held her breath as he played the opening notes. Then gradually she relaxed as she realized everything was going to be fine. He played confidently, without stumbling once, and when he reached the end the applause was more than just polite.
“Well done,” she said when they met afterward. “That was the best ever.”
“Would Daddy be proud of me?” he asked wistfully.
“Of course he will. I’m going to tell him how splendid you were.”
At home she gave him some milk and sandwiches, and put him to bed. He snuggled down, promising to go to sleep, but when she came up later she heard noises from inside his room. She listened for a moment before pushing the door open a crack. David’s little television was on. “You shouldn’t be watching that now,” she said.
“But I’m watching Daddy,” he pleaded. “Look.”
As Melanie glanced at the screen the announcer was saying, “…made a speech to captains of industry tonight, in which he declared…” There was Giles talking from the top table to a room full of men, all identically dressed in white tie and tails. David’s eyes never left the screen. “That’s Daddy!” he said excitedly.
Sure enough, there was Giles, at ease, speaking without notes. Seeing him like this, Melanie realized how handsome he was. When he made a neat joke, his white teeth gleamed against the brown of his skin. He was in the prime of life, assured, at ease, a master in his own sphere. But none of that was of any use to the little boy who had to watch him through a television screen.
When the program was over she persuaded him to lie down. “Tomorrow we’ll talk about what we’re going to do during your school holidays. Will your father be taking you away on vacation?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“What about your mother?” Melanie asked cautiously.
He looked back at her from unblinking eyes. “My mother’s dead,” he said simply.
Melanie expelled her breath slowly, realizing that she’d wandered into a mine field. Who had told the child that Zena was dead, and why hadn’t Giles warned her? “Well…” she began to say.
“My mother’s dead,” David repeated. “If she wasn’t dead I’d be living with her.”
“I see. Yes, of course. Do you—have a photograph of her anywhere?”
“No,” David said. “She’s dead. She’s dead.”
Again there was that unnerving stare. Melanie had an impression that inside himself the little boy was clinging onto a sheer cliff face with his fingertips. “Good night,” she said softly, and left him.
She went to her own room and did some thinking. And when her thinking was completed she settled down to wait for Giles Haverill’s return, because no matter how late he was, she needed to talk to him urgently.
To pass the time, she switched on the television and found herself watching a late news program. It ran a brief clip of Giles’s speech, followed by some general information about his earlier career.
“Haverill & Son has always been a family firm,” declared the presenter, “but under Giles Haverill it became one of the major operators in the sphere of—”
Melanie hardly heard. She was studying Giles as he’d been a few years ago, his face already set in stern lines, his eyes fixed ahead as though nothing mattered but his goal. Sometimes he was accompanied by a woman Melanie recognized as Zena, but mostly he was shown heading meetings and traveling by airplane, concentrating on the screen of a portable computer.
“…a ruthless operator, as more than one of his rivals could testify—pride in the firm he inherited, and his determination to double it in size and influence—”
“And to raise his son to do the same,” Melanie murmured. “Poor little mite.”
She looked angrily at the face on the screen, the face of a conqueror, an acquisitor, a man so proud of his heritage that he’d trained a child from birth to fit into it.
“And I handed you over to him,” she whispered angrily. “God forgive me!”
As the hours ticked away she began to doze off. To keep herself awake, she went out into the hall and settled on the stairs. She was awakened about two in the morning by the sound of the front door opening and closing. “Miss Haynes?” Giles called, peering into the gloom of the hall. “What are you doing on the stairs?”
Melanie yawned and got stiffly to her feet. “I wanted to be sure not to miss you, Mr. Haverill. There are things we have to discuss.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“No, it can’t. I need to get some things straightened out before I see David again.”
“Look,” he said tiredly, “I’ll pay for it, whatever he’s done.”
“He hasn’t done anything. Can we talk somewhere more private than the hall?”
“All right, in here.” He pushed open the door to the living room. “Now what is it?”
“You told me David’s mother had gone away. Is that true?”
“Of course it’s—” He stared at her narrowly. “Has David told you she’s dead?”
“Yes.”
He groaned. “I thought he’d got over that. It was a stage he went through soon after she left.”
“Does he know she’s alive?”
“Of course he knows. He’s been to stay with her.”
“So she does still have some interest in him?”
“Very little. She invited him only at my insistence, and it wasn’t a success. But that’s no excuse for him lying about her.”
“He’s not lying,” she said, outraged. “He’s fantasizing.”
“Is there a difference?”
She looked at him for a long, thoughtful moment. “Have you ever had an operation, Mr. Haverill?” she asked at last.
“What on earth—? Yes, I had my appendix out years ago.”
“Did they give you an anesthetic?”
“Of course.”
“And why? Because the pain would have been too much to bear without help. Well, that’s David’s situation, too. Can’t you imagine the pain of simply being abandoned by the one person in the world who’s supposed to put him above everything?”
“He has a father-”
“Fathers aren’t the same. It’s his mother who’s supposed to be there for him, listen to him, cuddle him, defend him—” She stopped abruptly as a sudden rush of emotion threatened to choke her.
“What’s the matter?” Giles asked.
“Nothing.” She turned away from him, hurriedly brushing her eyes.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.