Читать книгу Dark Mirror - Daphne Clair - Страница 7

FLER blinked. She felt pretty much the same way, herself. ‘I’m the proprietor,’ she said. ‘If you’re looking for Tansy, Mr Ranburn, she isn’t here.’ It gave her some satisfaction to be able to tell him that. Tansy might have been pleased to think of him coming after her, but Fler was convinced this man was nothing but bad news for her daughter.

‘Tansy?’ he said blankly, as though he’d forgotten who that was, and Fler immediately wanted to hit him. She’d like nothing more than for him to stay well away from Tansy, but he didn’t have to make it so obvious that he didn’t really give a damn.

Before she could say anything he glanced again at the card in his hand. ‘”F.H. Daniels, proprietor”,’ he read aloud. ‘I thought you were Mrs Hewson.’

‘I answer to my ex-husband’s name sometimes,’ she told him. ‘Especially in matters concerning Tansy. It saves explanations.’

He was still looking at her as though hoping she was going to disappear in a puff of smoke. The feeling was mutual, she wanted to assure him. Instead she said crisply, with only the forlornest hope that it wasn’t true, ‘If you’re not here to see Tansy, I presume you’re one of the tutors for the summer school. The others arrived ten minutes ago.’

‘Well, good,’ he said absently, looking as though he was trying to think of an excuse to leave. She wished he would.

‘Do you need any help with bags?’ she asked him.

‘Ah...no. No, I’ll manage. Thank you,’ he added, belatedly. ‘Tansy—’

‘She’s in the South Island,’ she told him. ‘Until the end of February. If you’re ready, I’ll take you to your room. You can sign the book later.’

She didn’t want to discuss Tansy with him. Didn’t want to discuss anything with him. Didn’t know how she was going to bear being in the same house with the man for the next three weeks. But she could hardly throw him out without explanation, and explanations would be humiliating for Tansy. The story would be bound to get back to the university.

‘This way,’ she said coldly, and led him up the stairs.

* * *

The only bright spot, Fler told herself later, filling the coffee machine, checking the sugar bowls and placing milk and cream on the lace-covered table, was that Tansy wasn’t here. At least she’d have had a three-month respite from his pernicious influence before she saw Kyle Ranburn again.

She opened up the wide doors that let in the sea breeze, and plumped some of the pastel-patterned cushions on the cane sofas and chairs around the room. It was quite hot. Iced water might be preferred by some of the guests to coffee.

She went to the kitchen to fill a jug, and also fetched a packet of biscuits and a plate. Perhaps it was the crackle of the packet as she opened it, pouring the biscuits expertly in overlapping circles on to the plate, that prevented her from hearing Kyle Ranburn come into the room.

When she turned and found him beside her, she jumped.

‘Sorry,’ he said. He’d been reaching for a cup, but now he stepped back. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’ He was staring a little, but she supposed she was too. He looked different, from when they’d first met at the hospital. It was probably the casual clothes he wore, jeans and a denim bomber-style jacket over a dark T-shirt.

What the well-dressed lecturer wears when catering to the country masses, she thought nastily. This man would look good in anything. He actually looked sexier now than in the suit she’d seen him in before.

Dismissing the thought, she turned away from him, but looked back when he said abruptly, ‘You’re alike, aren’t you—you and your daughter?’

‘What?’ Could he have picked up that wayward thought? Her eyes sparked with chagrin.

‘Hasn’t anyone commented on it before? For a second, as I came in, I thought you were her.’

‘Oh.’ Fool, of course he hadn’t meant that! Fler swallowed. ‘Yes, actually they have.’ Her voice sounded stiff, reluctant. She made to walk round him, get out of the room. No one else had come down yet.

Surprisingly, he caught at her arm as she went to pass him, not hard but firmly. ‘Just a minute!’

Fler pulled away from him almost violently. ‘Don’t you touch me!’ All her nerve-ends were tingling, the fine hairs on her skin prickling up with antagonism.

‘I’m not going to assault you,’ he said shortly, looking thoroughly fed up. Also rather disconcerted, as though he’d just suffered a small shock. ‘I only wanted to say...’ He stopped to frame the words.

‘Say what?’

‘It looks as though we’re stuck with each other for several weeks. If I’d known—but I didn’t, and it’s too late now for me to back out. I wouldn’t want the others to—’

Contempt for him almost choked her. But she said, ‘Don’t worry, Mr Ranburn. I’m not likely to start telling all and sundry my daughter’s private business. You’re quite safe.’

He closed his eyes momentarily, saying something under his breath, then opened them again. They were like a wintry sea, a deep anger in them. ‘Look, I—’

He was interrupted by the course co-ordinator coming into the room. ‘Mr Ranburn?’ she said, advancing with her hand held out as he turned to her. ‘I’m Devina Roache. I don’t believe we’ve met.’

Her eyes discreetly signalled that she was awfully glad to remedy that. She was tall, and her sleek dark hair framed a smooth-skinned, perfectly oval face that had everything in the right places, as did her figure, shown off by a brief skirt and even briefer top that she’d changed into.

Fler didn’t fail to notice the flicker of appreciation in Kyle Ranburn’s eyes as he clasped the proffered hand in his. Obviously not one to miss any opportunity, she thought. She thanked God again that Tansy wasn’t here to be hurt all over again. And was suddenly conscious of being on the wrong side of thirty-five, and that the comfortable cotton trousers and big shirt which she’d considered perfectly suitable this morning for the casual, relaxed atmosphere that the guests enjoyed were neither smart nor particularly feminine.

They hardly noticed, she was persuaded, when she muttered an excuse and left them to it. The other tutors were coming down the stairs now, talking companionably. One of the men smiled at her absently as they swept into the lounge.

He was tall with curly dark hair and blue eyes, and objectively was better looking than Kyle Ranburn. But he didn’t have that indefinable aura the other man had, the pull of attraction that had brought that inviting light to Devina Roache’s eyes, that had seduced poor Tansy. And—

Fler crossed the empty dining-room and viciously pushed open the saloon-type doors to the kitchen. Cut that out! she told herself. The man’s an unscrupulous opportunist. A sexual gourmet in the same mould as Rick Hewson. Worse. He preyed on girls who held him in awe because he was their teacher.

* * *

In the dining-room that evening the long table was the centre of happy chatter and a good deal of laughter. Manaaki wasn’t licensed, but some of the guests brought their own wine to the table, and the atmosphere was relaxed.

As usual they were a friendly lot. A couple of them had been involved in the summer schools before. They joked with the young Maori waitresses and chatted to Fler who supervised and unobtrusively helped to serve when it was needed. She noticed that Devina Roache was seated next to Kyle Ranburn, but although the young woman was sparkling he appeared slightly preoccupied, smiling absentmindedly rather than joining in the laughter about him.

After dinner they spent an hour or so in the lounge discussing their programme, and some lingered on, helping themselves to coffee. It was quite late when Fler, finding the room empty at last, stacked the dirty cups on to a tray and crossed the room to close the glass doors before carrying the dishes to the kitchen.

A man standing on the veranda outside turned from his contemplation of the night and the intermittent moonlit ripples on the sea. It was dark and she couldn’t see his face.

Pausing with her hand on the door she’d been about to close, she said, ‘I’m just about to lock up, but if you don’t want to come in yet, would you put the latch up when you do?’

‘I’m coming in now.’

She recognised the voice and, when he came into the light, his face.

He walked past her and waited while she shot the bolts home. ‘Devina says this room is to be my classroom,’ he said.

‘Oh?’ She hadn’t taken much notice of the programme; the co-ordinators arranged all that. Messy activities were usually planned for the community hall, while those comprising mainly lectures were reserved for the guest house.

‘I’m told,’ he went on, ‘that you’re very co-operative, very helpful.’

‘I try to be.’

‘I wondered if I might have a table in my room. It doesn’t need to be very big.’

There was a long built-in desk-cum-dressing-table, but it wasn’t the first time a tutor had requested something wider. ‘Would a card table do?’

‘Yes. Fine. Provided it’s reasonably stable.’

Crisply she said, ‘I’ll see to it. Anything else?’

He seemed to be hesitating. ‘No,’ he said finally. ‘Except—’

She didn’t help him out. She had a fair idea that he was going to try yet again to justify himself.

He spoke slowly. ‘These summer schools are special. Everyone says there’s an atmosphere about them that they don’t experience anywhere else. Your—hospitality and friendliness, and your staff’s, apparently have quite a lot to do with that.’

‘Thank you.’ From anyone else she’d have accepted the accolade with pleasure. Now she just wondered what he was leading up to.

He gave a sharp sigh. ‘What I’m trying to say is, it would be a pity to spoil that. Do you think that for the next three weeks you could try to forget how much you hate me? For everyone’s sake.’

She didn’t think that anyone else had noticed. She’d not spoken to him at dinner, but then he’d scarcely looked directly at her either. And they wouldn’t have thought anything of it. He wasn’t one of those who’d been here before.

She said, ‘I’ve been running this place for five years, Mr Ranburn. My staff and I are used to being polite to obnoxious guests—not, fortunately, that we’ve had very many. We never allow a personal dislike of anyone to affect the level of service they’re given.’

He stirred irritably. ‘That wasn’t quite what I meant, and I’m sure you know it. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with your ability to somehow tackle an issue side-on.’

‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘You know damn well, you infuriating woman!’

Fler said coolly, ‘We’re also accustomed to dealing with rudeness. But that doesn’t mean we just lie down and take it.’

‘Is this a royal we?’ he enquired.

Sarcastic brute. ‘I thought you were asking me to be nice to you,’ she suggested. ‘If you expect that while you feel free to insult me—’

‘It wasn’t meant to be insulting.’ As she pointedly refrained from comment, he added, ‘But all right, I apologise for losing my temper. Believe it or not, it doesn’t happen often.’

No, he was a cold-blooded animal. She angered him because she had seen through him from the start, Fler decided. ‘Apology accepted,’ she said. ‘And you needn’t worry that my real opinion of you will be in any way apparent to your colleagues, Mr Ranburn.’ She would be the epitome of politeness and co-operation; he’d have absolutely nothing to fault her for. But he needn’t expect friendliness. That would be asking the impossible.

He said very formally, with just a hint of irony, ‘Thank you. Perhaps you could start by calling me Kyle. I noticed that you’re on first-name terms with everyone else, even those who are here for the first time like me.’

Of course she was. There was never any formality at Manaaki, particularly during the summer school. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘All right.’

‘Good.’ He stood for a while facing her as though undecided about something. Then he said deliberately, ‘Goodnight, Fler.’

No one had said her name quite as this man did, lingering over the single syllable as if he could taste it on his tongue, his voice deep and slow. An odd sensation passed over her skin, warm and feathery, as if he had physically touched her.

She shook herself mentally, and clenched her fists against an involuntary shiver.

He was waiting, looking at her. She hoped her eyes weren’t giving away the sudden agitated thumping of her heart. She moistened her lower lip and kept her voice flat, indifferent. ‘Goodnight—Kyle.’

She picked up the tray and took it out, her hands perfectly steady, her mind filled with dismay.

Packing the cups and saucers into the dishwasher in the kitchen, she tried to rationalise.

He had something, undoubtedly, some kind of sex appeal that wasn’t immediately apparent, not all on the surface, and the more potent for that. The man was an expert manipulator, she reminded herself, obviously with a lot of practice. He knew perfectly well what effect he had on women, and OK, she wasn’t immune.

But she was no adolescent innocent, ready to fall at his feet because he said her name in a way that made it sound special. She was a grown woman—older than him, for heaven’s sake! Even if she hadn’t been wise to his games, she had no reason to suppose he’d have been interested in her! His taste ran to younger women. Much younger. Although Devina Roache, for all the unlined perfection of her features, must be over twenty-five.

Not as much over as you are, a mean-spirited inner voice jeered. You’re the mother of one his conquests! He wouldn’t look twice in your direction.

Stop there! Fler ordered herself, appalled at the trend of her thoughts.

Of course she didn’t want to catch Kyle Ranburn’s eye. The less she had to do with him the better. The summer school this year couldn’t be over and done with soon enough for her.

But it hadn’t even started, yet.

* * *

Next morning eager students of all ages from teenagers to white-haired eighty-year-olds descended on the tiny beach community and were speedily dispatched to makeshift classrooms, all within convenient walking distance of the community hall. By ten o’clock, cars had stopped arriving and relative quiet reigned as everyone settled in for the first sessions.

Fler ushered an apologetic late-comer into the front lounge, and returned to the desk to do some bookwork. The door to the lounge was open to allow a cooling breeze to circulate, and she could clearly hear Kyle launching into his session. He would be accustomed to addressing a lecture hall full of students, of course. Although, didn’t they use microphones these days? Anyway, he had a good, deep, clear voice, easy to listen to...

Finding that was what she was doing, she bent her head to the books.

A burst of laughter came from the lounge. Tansy had said he often made his students laugh, it was one of the things she liked about his classes. ‘With him it all comes alive,’ she had said eagerly. ‘He makes the people seem real, not just words in history books.’

Fler picked up a ruler and drew a precise red line under a set of figures. Tansy had said he was brilliant at his subject. But then, she might have been biased.

* * *

At lunchtime Fler helped the kitchen staff serve salad, fruit and cheese for the lecturers. The students either brought their own lunch or made other arrangements.

Kyle said to her, ‘Do you mind if I take mine outside?’ Some of the students were picnicking on the lawn or the veranda steps.

‘Whatever you like,’ Fler told him. ‘Just return the plate later.’

He brought it back as Fler was clearing away the cheese. ‘Sorry, I got talking.’

Fler reluctantly asked, ‘Would you like some cheese?’

‘Thanks.’ Casually he picked a chunk off the plate she was holding.

‘What about coffee?’

He smiled at her. ‘You do live up to your reputation, don’t you?’

‘I’m doing my best.’

The smile turned wry. ‘You know, I’m not the big bad wolf, and I didn’t gobble up your Little Red Riding Hood.’

‘”But Grandma, what big teeth you have”!’ Fler said.

He laughed, then. He didn’t have particularly big teeth, but they were white and even. He looked down at her, the laughter still in his eyes, making him look—damn him!—more dangerously attractive than ever.

Fler swallowed, clamping her own teeth together to stop an involuntary smile.

Kyle shook his head, put the chunk of cheese in his mouth and sauntered out.