A Haunting Compulsion. Anne Mather
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indicating the seat behind him.
‘Do sit down,’ she exclaimed, anxiety colouring her tone. ‘You really should take more rest, Jaime. Dr Manning says it takes time for flesh to knit together.’
Jaime pulled a wry face, but he did sink down on to the window seat again with some relief, and glancing in his direction, Rachel knew a pang of guilt at her own obduracy. She had not even asked him how he was feeling, and although she despised herself for feeling that way, she knew she was still concerned about him.
‘So,’ Liz forced a lightness she was evidently far from feeling, ‘has Rachel told you about her promotion, Jaime? She’s an assistant editor now, isn’t that exciting? Who knows, she may produce her own programmes one day.’
‘I hardly think so,’ murmured Rachel deprecatingly, and Jaime’s cynical eyes probed her embarrassment.
‘She doesn’t have the right disposition,’ he remarked, addressing his mother, but evidently speaking for Rachel’s benefit. ‘Her ideals are too rigid. She doesn’t move with the times. Producers have to be modern in outlook, malleable in intent, they have to feel for their subject, and make allowances for human error. And also they need to be capable of distinguishing between truth and fabrication.’
‘And be sexually aware!’ exclaimed Rachel, unable to prevent the bitter retort, and Jaime inclined his head mockingly.
‘That, too, of course,’ he drawled, with heavy sarcasm, and Rachel longed to wipe the smug expression from his face.
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