Cat Carlisle Book 2. Terry Thomas Lynn
Читать онлайн книгу.
there are any tinned peaches or lemon curd.’ Edythe glanced at Phillip – as though to make sure her mum would be safe with him alone – before she took the money and ration books, headed towards the café and the shops.
‘What a graceful child,’ Phillip said.
Beth gave him an irritated look. ‘She’s been working so hard. I worry she’s not resting enough.’ Beth sighed. ‘She’s set on going to London and dancing with a professional company.’
‘We need to talk,’ Phillip said.
‘I’m sorry, Phillip. I don’t want to talk. Not today. Please leave me alone.’ Beth turned and headed towards Gilly’s.
‘Beth, wait. Please.’ He stepped close, placing a gentle hand on her elbow. She froze under his touch but slowly turned to face him.
‘That’s better. What I want to say to you, and what I hope you’ll agree to, is for us to get married.’
‘Married? Us?’ A bubble of hysterical laughter burbled out of Beth’s throat. She covered her mouth and coughed.
‘Please don’t react like that. You know it’s the right thing. You’re a 39-year-old widow, with a young daughter. And this is not about the money. I don’t care about that. You’re my family.’
‘You’re my cousin, Phillip.’
‘That doesn’t matter.’
‘But I don’t love you.’
‘You could learn to love me. Over time we would grow close.’ He stepped close and tried to put an arm around Beth. ‘Why don’t you let me take care of you?’
Beth pushed away from him. Anger flashed in her otherwise passive eyes. ‘I don’t need taking care of. I’ve been widowed for six years, four months and eight days, and I’ve managed just fine—’
‘You’re being unreasonable. You need a man. All women do. What kind of an example are you setting for Edythe? She’s headstrong already, and if someone doesn’t take her in hand, she’ll just get worse.’
Beth slapped Phillip across the face, just as two women came out of the fruiterer’s. They hurried by, trying not to stare.
‘Go to hell,’ Beth said.
When Beth turned and walked away, he grabbed her arm in a vice grip, turning her to face him. ‘Don’t you dare walk away from me.’ He squeezed her arm and pulled her close.
The two women who had passed them had stopped. Standing a few yards away, they watched the scene unfold before them.
‘Beth, do you want us to get the police?’ the younger of the two asked.
Phillip turned to face them, enraged. ‘Mind your own damn business.’
The women stepped closer.
Beth looked down at Phillip’s fingers as they dug into the soft flesh of her upper arm. Her voice shook. ‘Let. Go. Of. Me.’
He let go of her and took a step back, holding both hands in the air as if to surrender. ‘Beth—’
‘I don’t want you around my daughter,’ Beth said. She didn’t care who heard. ‘You’ve got your cottage and your money. The house is mine now. I want you out, Phillip.’
Two other women had joined the group, one of them had a young girl in tow. ‘Are they going to fight, Mummy? Is she going to hit him?’ Her voice trembled.
‘Beth, don’t—’ Phillip said.
‘You moved in without any regard for us. You have treated me like your maid. You’ve abused my good will and Edythe’s. The house is mine now. You are not welcome there. You can come and get your things this afternoon at four o’clock. After you get your personal items out, you are not to come back again unannounced or without permission. Do you understand? I’ve had it with you.’
She turned and, with a bowed head, hurried towards Gilly’s. Phillip stood, humiliated, unable to do anything but watch her go.
‘Serves you right,’ one of the women said.
He stared at the lot of them. ‘Show’s over, ladies.’
So much for his miracle.
Carmona Broadbent was no beauty. She knew this, just as she knew the sun would rise in the morning. A thick-ankled, thick-waisted girl, who had grown tall at an early age, Carmona lived her life with the awareness that no prince loomed on the horizon, waiting to ask her to the ball. This should have bothered Carmona, especially since her best friend in the world, Edythe Hargreaves, was blessed with the stunning good looks of a film star. But Carmona’s lack of physical attributes did not bother her, for she had something even better than porcelain skin, a tiny waist, and long supple legs. Carmona Broadbent had brains.
She had spent her entire life watching the side effects of Edythe’s beauty. Mothers stared, goggle-eyed, taken aback by Edythe’s beauty as a child. As she got older and blossomed into womanhood, wives would stare, before they would search out their husbands, as if worrying Edythe would somehow lure the men away from their families. And poor Mrs Hargreaves worried and fretted, as though she were the custodian of a hothouse flower in need of continual tending. Carmona thought it all ridiculous. She knew, with that certain wisdom of hers, Edythe’s beauty wouldn’t last forever. Edythe would one day grow old, as that poet – Carmona could never recall his name, as she had little time for romantic notions – said, the proverbial bloom would eventually come off the rose. Carmona didn’t wish her friend any ill will, she simply had seen into the future and knew what Edythe’s life would be: she would meet someone of wealth and influence. Likely, he would see her dance and fall in love. They would properly court – or not, Carmona didn’t care – marry, have many children, and live happily ever after in some big country house. By the time Edythe’s looks had faded, she would be happily ensconced in her life on some anonymous manor somewhere. Her influential husband would have a mistress in a luxury flat in London. Carmona, on the other hand, would be using her fine mind to save humanity, one injured brain at a time. She was going to be a doctor, so busy saving people’s lives, she wouldn’t even miss the husband and children she would not have.
Carmona and Edythe were as opposite as night and day. Edythe, kind-hearted and good-natured, had done a fine job of balancing Carmona’s irreverent sarcasm. Like only best friends can do, they had supported each other through the tragedies and upsets children experience on the road to adulthood. Carmona didn’t resent Edythe’s beauty. She believed each person had their own gifts to bring to the world.
Edythe’s father was a farmer, who was lucky enough to own the land he used to grow vegetables and graze a sizable herd of sheep. Although they were financially comfortable, Edythe’s family didn’t have the wealth and influence – and all its accompanying responsibility – Carmona’s family enjoyed. As a result of this, Edythe had developed a strong sense of purpose. When Carmona and Edythe were 10 years old, Carmona’s mother had dressed them up in their fancy best and had taken them to London to see The Nutcracker. The girls enjoyed the train ride in the first-class car, staying in a hotel, and eating in the hotel restaurant without adult supervision. When Carmona’s mother, Claris, had come down with a banging headache and had sent the girls to dinner unsupervised in the safety of the hotel dining room, the two girls had spent a happy hour watching all the well-dressed men and women, who moved so glamorously in this affluent world.
They had seen a matinee, and given Claris’s influence, sat in the best seats. When the dancing started Edythe was mesmerized. She had not moved during the performance, rather she watched the show, her eyes riveted to the stage. Carmona had never seen such rapture on a human being’s face. After the performance, Edythe asked question after question about the story, the dancers, how the dancers trained. She kept her programme