Читать книгу The Stonecutter - Camilla Lackberg - Страница 11

‘Agnes, I have nothing but tedious meetings today. It’s not a good idea for you to come along.’

‘But I want to go with you today. I’m so bored. There’s nothing to do.’

‘What about your girlfriends?’

‘They’re all busy,’ Agnes replied, sulking. ‘Britta’s getting ready for her wedding, Laila’s going to Halden with her parents to visit her brother, and Sonja has to help her mother.’ In a sad voice she added, ‘Imagine having a mother to help …’ She peered at her father from under her fringe. Yes, the ploy had worked, as usual.

He sighed. ‘Well then, come along if you like. But you have to promise to sit still and be quiet, and not run about like a whirlwind talking to the staff. The last time you completely confused those poor old men; it took them several days to get over it.’ He couldn’t help smiling at his daughter. She was unruly, certainly, but a more dazzling girl could not be found on this side of the Norwegian border.

Agnes gave a happy laugh, having once again emerged victorious, and she rewarded her father with a hug and a pat on his big belly.

‘Nobody has a father like mine,’ she cooed, and August Stjernkvist chuckled with pleasure.

‘What would I do without you?’ he said half in earnest, half in jest, pulling her close.

‘Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere.’

‘No, not at the moment, anyway,’ he said sombrely, caressing her dark hair. ‘But it won’t be long before some man is going to come and steal you away from me. If you can find one who’s good enough, that is,’ he laughed.

‘Well, I can’t just take any man who comes along,’ Agnes laughed in reply. ‘Not with the example I’ve had. So it’s no wonder I’m particular.’

‘Look here, my girl, enough flattery,’ August preened. ‘Get a move on if you’re coming with me to the office. It wouldn’t do for the boss to arrive late.’

Despite his admonishing words it took almost an hour before they were on their way. First there was the whole business of tending to her hair and clothes, but by the time Agnes was ready, her father had to admit that the result was worth it.

‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ said August as he swept into the room where three men were sat waiting. ‘But I hope you’ll forgive me when you see the reason for my tardiness.’ He gestured towards Agnes, who was close behind him. She was wearing a red dress that clung to her body, accentuating her slim waist. Although many girls had let their hair fall to the scissors in a bob, as was the fashion in the twenties, Agnes had been smart enough to resist the temptation. Her thick black hair was done up in a simple chignon at her neck. She was well aware of the impression she made, thanks to the mirror at home. Now she exploited it fully as she paused in front of the men, slowly removing her gloves, and then letting them shake her hand, one by one.

With great satisfaction she could tell she was having an effect. Two of them sat there gaping like fish, as they held on to her hand a trifle too long. But the third man was different. To her astonishment Agnes felt her heart give a leap. The big, burly man hardly looked up at her and only took her hand briefly. The hands of the other two men had felt soft and almost feminine against hers, but this man’s hand was different. She could feel the calluses scraping against her palm, and his fingers were long and strong. For a moment she considered not letting go of his hand, but she caught herself and merely nodded to him demurely. His eyes, which only looked into hers fleetingly, were brown, and she guessed there was Walloon blood in his family.

After the introductions, she hurried to sit down on a chair in the corner and clasped her hands in her lap. She could see that her father hesitated for a moment. He probably would rather have sent her out of the room, but she put on her most angelic expression and gave him an entreating look. As usual he did as she wished. Wordlessly he nodded that she could stay. She decided for a change to sit as quiet as a little church mouse so as not to risk being sent out of the room like a child. She didn’t want to be subjected to that sort of treatment in front of this man.

Normally, after an hour of silent participation she would have been almost in tears from boredom, but not this time. The hour flew past, and by the time the meeting was over, Agnes was sure of her cause. She wanted this man, more than she had ever wanted anything else.

And what she wanted, she usually got.