Storm In A Rain Barrel

She started, almost guiltily, as the door opened and Sister Theresa stood there regarding her compassionately. ‘Well, Domine?’ she said, with a smile. ‘Are you ready?’

Domine’s eyes widened. ‘You mean—he’s here!’ Her heart fluttered wildly.

‘Yes, Mr. Mannering has arrived,’ replied Sister Theresa. ‘I believe he had some difficulty locating the convent in this driving rain. And after all, these roads are not very well signposted, are they?’

Domine shook her head. ‘I—I didn’t hear the car,’ she stammered.

‘Didn’t you? Well, perhaps the storm disguised its arrival. Or maybe you were not thinking about it,’ she murmured gently.

Domine swallowed hard. In truth, she had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts she had not been conscious of her surroundings. Nodding, she lifted her handbag and smoothed the skirt of the pleated pinafore dress she was wearing over a white shirt blouse. She felt young and gauche, and wished she had something a little more inspiring to wear. But perhaps it was as well that she had not. Any attempt at sophistication on her part would appear quite ludicrous.

She followed Sister Theresa’s flowing-robed figure along the stark tiled corridor and down a flight of stairs to the ground floor. Here a beautifully carved statue of the Mother and Child gave warmth to an otherwise bare hallway. The glowing colours of their robes and the gilding of their headdresses brought their cold features to life, and Domine twisted her fingers together nervously. She was not a Catholic, and until now she had felt apart from their religion, but suddenly its strength enfolded her.

Sister Theresa knocked at the door of the study where the Reverend Mother awaited them, and ushered Domine into the room. She entered rather tentatively, her eyes going immediately to the figure of the man who stood motionless beside Reverend Mother’s desk. He had his back to the door as she entered, and was staring out of the window that surveyed the same view that previously Domine had been contemplating. The rain had not eased at all, and lamps had been lit in the study to relieve the gloom.

The man turned as Sister Theresa closed the door, and looked piercingly at Domine with eyes that were a strange light shade of blue. Cold eyes, they were, she thought palpitatingly, and could see no warmth in his face. He was not a handsome man, his features were harsh and darkly tanned, lines deeply etched beside a mouth which had a sensual curve. He was, she supposed, a little under six feet in height, with broad shoulders but an otherwise lean body. His hair was very dark and straight, and sideburns grew low on his cheeks. She couldn’t begin to guess at his age, although he was younger than she had vaguely imagined, certainly younger than her father would have been had he lived. And certainly he was not the artistic aesthete of her imaginings. He dressed like a business man in a dark suit with a matching waistcoat, and wore a thick dark car-coat overall. At the moment, his coat was unfastened, and his hands were thrust deep into the pockets of his overcoat. Raindrops glistened on his dark hair, and Domine reflected that he had not wasted any time discussing her with Reverend Mother. She wondered what Reverend Mother thought of him, and gathered from the old woman’s expression that she was still rather doubtful about delivering her charge into this man’s hands.

However, she appeared to disguise her thoughts, for she rose as Domine approached her desk, and said: ‘Ah, there you are, my child. As you can see, Mr. Mannering has at last arrived to take you home.’

Home? The word stuck in Domine’s throat. Where was home now? Some place belonging to this man? The hotel in Bognor? Or Grey Witches, finally?

‘Yes,’ she faltered now. ‘How—how do you do?’ Awkwardly she held out her hand, and with an imperceptible shrug James Mannering shook hands with her. His hands were the only artistic thing about him, she thought, long and lean, with smooth, rounded nails.

‘Hello, Domine,’ he said dispassionately. ‘Are you ready to leave?’

‘Oh, but—’ began Reverend Mother, glancing at Domine and then back at James Mannering. ‘I mean—won’t you stay and have tea with us? It—it would give Domine a chance to get to know you. After all, you are a complete stranger to her, are you not?’

James Mannering compressed his lips for a moment. ‘Yes, we are strangers, Reverend Mother,’ he agreed, ‘however, I don’t believe we could possibly begin to get to know one another with a third party present.’ His gaze flickered almost sardonically. ‘Besides, as you know, I was delayed in arriving because of the weather and I should prefer to return to London before dinner time.’

Domine felt an awful tightening of her stomach muscles. Until this moment she had been so concerned with meeting the man himself that she had not fully realized what being his ward would mean. She would be subject to his desires in everything, and wherever he said she should go she would go. She shivered, and Reverend Mother intercepted her nervousness. With a stiffening of her shoulders she said:

‘Nevertheless, Mr. Mannering, I must insist that you have tea with us. As you are a stranger to all of us, I should like to discuss Domine’s future with you. It is natural that we should want to know what your plans for her are, and what arrangements have been made for her to continue with her studies. Domine has always been one of our most intelligent pupils, and it would be a shame if she were to waste her talents—now.’

James Mannering drew out a cigar case and glanced at Reverend Mother rather shrewdly before extracting a cigar and placing it between his teeth. ‘Very well,’ he said laconically. ‘Very well, by all means have tea. But I’ll just have this’—he indicated the cigar—‘if you don’t mind?’

The question was unnecessary, Domine felt sure. James Mannering was the kind of man who would respond to few restrictions. She had the feeling he would smoke his cigar whatever Reverend Mother might say.

Reverend Mother bit her lower lip rather sharply, and walking to the door she opened it and called: ‘Sister Theresa! May we have the trolley now, please?’

Domine hovered in the centre of the carpet aware that James Mannering’s eyes lingered on her rather speculatively, and she wondered how on earth she would ever get used to being his ward. Even six months seemed to stretch endlessly ahead of her. Mannering responded to a suggestion from Reverend Mother that he should sit down, and lounged into a deep leather chair by the window while Domine perched on the edge of a high-backed chair which was placed beside the desk. Sister Theresa wheeled in a tea trolley containing cakes and sandwiches, and Domine was forced to accept a sandwich and nibbled it without enthusiasm. The grimness of the day seemed to have intensified a hundredfold, and she could hardly believe all this was actually happening. There was an air of unreality about the whole affair, and for the first time she pondered the man’s reactions to being landed with a teenage ward without a real knowledge of the world outside the convent walls. During the past few minutes she had become aware of her own ignorance of life in general, and a feeling of despair gripped her. If she had been the kind of girl who sometimes came to the convent, girls like Susan Johnson, one of her friends, she would have felt able to cope, but Susan had a normal home and background, with two elder brothers to have fun with, to share experiences with, while Domine had had no one for the past nine years but a rather elderly gentleman whose ideas of entertaining the young were confined to trips to the cinema or the theatre, and occasionally a visit to some charity function. She had listened to the other girls gossiping about clothes and pop-records and boy-friends, but apart from this she had no knowledge of their world.

Reverend Mother began to question James Mannering about his plans for Domine, but his replies were non-committal and after a while the old woman seemed to realize she would learn little this way. Instead, she turned her attention to Domine and said:

‘Have you made any plans yet, Domine? Have you thought about what kind of occupation you might find?’

Domine hesitated, conscious of Mannering’s interested attention. ‘Obviously, it’s a little early for me to have made any plans,’ she began awkwardly, ‘however, at the end of the six months—when Mr. Mannering’s responsibility towards me ceases—I expect I shan’t find it too difficult to take up some kind of office work. My examination results were good, and I have the qualifications for bank or library work if I need it.’

Mannering leant forward, studying the glowing tip of his cigar. ‘Oh, come on now,’ he said, in a harsh tone, ‘this isn’t an auction market, Reverend Mother. It isn’t necessary for Domine to sell herself to me. She’s been handed to me—on a plate, so to speak, and you need have no qualms that her future won’t be adequately attended to!’

Reverend Mother looked flabbergasted by his plain speaking, and Domine’s pale cheeks turned scarlet at his tone. ‘I wasn’t aware that Domine was attempting to sell herself to you in any way, Mr. Mannering,’ the elderly nun said tautly. ‘We are simple people here, with simple beliefs, and possibly a misguidedly simple attitude towards the world outside, but nevertheless, we are aware that for a girl of Domine’s age to obtain a suitable position she requires the necessary qualifications.’

Mannering looked up, those light blue eyes glacier clear. ‘And what do you consider a “suitable” position?’ he questioned sardonically.

Reverend Mother’s cheeks coloured a little. ‘I do not feel that I should be forced to answer your questions, Mr. Mannering,’ she replied, sharply. ‘But, as you ask, any of the positions Domine has mentioned seem perfectly acceptable to me.’

James Mannering shook his head. ‘In effect you are ruling out any occupation that might fall short of your rigid set of values,’ he said, bluntly. ‘If Domine is well qualified, she may prefer a job in something a little more inspiring than an office or a bank, or a library either, for that matter. There’s advertising, for example. Or the arts. Or even something as devastating as the theatre!’

‘Obviously, we are speaking at cross purposes, Mr. Mannering,’ said Reverend Mother, sniffing a little. ‘Am I to understand that Domine is to be thrust into the theatre because that is your world?’

‘Hell, no!’ Mannering got to his feet. ‘I agree, we are talking at cross-purposes. However, I don’t see that it matters, for a while at least. Domine won’t immediately be taking up any kind of occupation.’

Domine glanced at him. ‘Why?’

Mannering shrugged. ‘We’ll see,’ he said, dismissing her question. He fastened his overcoat and went on: ‘I don’t think we’re achieving anything by discussing it here and now. It’s too early to make any assessments.’ He looked at Reverend Mother. ‘I’ll keep you in touch with Domine’s movements, if that’s what you would like. And now, as time is fleeting, and as I said I want to be back in London before dinner, perhaps you’ll excuse us?’

Reverend Mother had no choice but to agree, and she sent Domine to collect her things and to say goodbye to her friends. Susan Johnson was waiting in Domine’s room on her return, and her eyes were wide and excited.

‘I say, Dom,’ she exclaimed at once. ‘Is that gorgeous male really your James Mannering?’

Domine gave her a weary glance. ‘What gorgeous male?’

‘Heavens! Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed!’ gasped Susan. ‘Jane and I saw him arrive. We were downstairs in the hall when he came in. Is it James Mannering?’

‘Yes.’ Domine stuffed the rest of her toilet articles into an overnight case, and lifted it together with the larger case that contained all her belongings.

Susan shook her head. ‘Well, I must say you don’t look very pleased about it,’ she exclaimed rather impatiently. ‘Surely he’s not at all like you had imagined.’

Domine glanced in her direction as she walked towards the door. ‘Well, I’d agree with you there,’ she said dryly. ‘Honestly, Susan, I know absolutely nothing about him. I don’t even know where I’m going to live!’

Some of her trepidation showed in her voice and Susan approached her sympathetically. ‘You know he’s quite a well-known playwright,’ she pointed out thoughtfully. ‘And after all, you’re not old enough to arouse any—well, other kind of interest in him, are you? I mean—I don’t want to be unkind, Domine, but you are rather naïve, aren’t you? Me!’ She laughed. ‘I’d give anything to be in your shoes! Being ward to a famous man like him! Having the opportunity to meet all kinds of exciting people! Not just to marry the first man that asks you because you think his prospects are good!’

Domine half-smiled. ‘You will write to me, won’t you? I’ll let you have the address as soon as I know where it is.’

Susan nodded vigorously. ‘Of course. After all, you might invite me to come and stay some time.’

Domine sighed, and then walked slowly along the corridor towards the stairs again. As she began the downward descent, she saw James Mannering waiting in the hall with Reverend Mother, and when he saw her struggling with the cases he left off speaking to the nun and mounted the stairs lithely to take them from her. Domine, unused to any kind of assistance with her belongings, glanced at him in surprise, and saw a faintly mocking glint in his eyes as though he had been glad to escape from Reverend Mother’s catechism.

Sister Theresa joined her superior to say good-bye to their charge and the double doors of the convent were opened to admit a blast of chilling air, accompanied by driving rain. Domine, who had donned her school coat, a navy gaberdine, pulled up the collar, while James Mannering said: ‘Wait here!’ peremptorily, before dashing out into the storm.

A few moments later, the roar of a powerful engine heralded the arrival of his car, which he drew up close to the entrance so that Domine had only to cross the terrace and climb into its warmth and luxury. She said good-bye to Sister Theresa, and then to Reverend Mother, and biting back a choking feeling in her throat, she ran and climbed into the limousine. She saw, through the pouring rain, that James Mannering had returned to say good-bye to the nuns, before striding back to the vehicle and sliding in beside her. The engine had been running and he thrust it smoothly into gear and raised one hand in farewell as they began their journey.

Domine lay back in her seat feeling overwhelmingly shaky now that she had left all that was familiar behind her, and for a few minutes she stared blankly out at the awful weather and thought she would never experience a storm without remembering this afternoon. James Mannering did not speak to her at once, giving her time to collect herself, and manoeuvring the sleek car out of the gates and along the rain-washed country roads. The Convent of the Holy Sisters was situated about five miles from Guildford, and it wasn’t until they reached the main road to London that her companion glanced her way.

‘Well?’ he said, somewhat wryly. ‘Are you going to cry? Or will you save that for tonight—in bed?’

Domine stared at him in astonishment. She was unused to his blunt manner of speaking, and endeavouring to assume a little of his candour, she replied: ‘No, I shan’t cry now, Mr. Mannering. As for tonight, I don’t even know where I’m to spend tonight!’ She compressed her lips to prevent them from trembling.

Mannering gave her a lazy stare. ‘Don’t you? Didn’t the solicitor explain the situation to you?’