White Rose Of Winter

‘When are you leaving?’ she asked, trying to keep the possessiveness out of her voice.

Emma shrugged. ‘Soon, I suppose. When you’re ready, I guess.’

‘Me?’ Julie swung round on her. ‘What have I to do with it?’

‘Well, you’re coming, too, aren’t you?’ Emma looked puzzled.

Julie sighed. ‘Did Uncle Robert say that, too.’

Emma considered for a moment. ‘Well, he told me to come and wake you and ask you if you’d like some coffee.’

‘Did he indeed?’ Julie gave her daughter a resigned stare. ‘And did you?’

‘Did I what?’

‘Ask me if I wanted coffee?’

Emma hung her head. ‘I forgot.’

‘Well, I do, so scoot. And don’t come back. I’ll come when I’m dressed.’

Emma’s mouth tilted at the comers. ‘You’re not cross, are you?’

‘Of course not. Run along. I’ve got to get dressed.’

‘All right.’ Emma skipped to the door. Then she stopped hesitantly. ‘You do like it here, don’t you, Mummy? I mean – you like Uncle Robert and Grandma and – and everyone?’

‘How could I not?’ exclaimed Julie impatiently. ‘Go on, stop worrying, everything’s fine.’

It wasn’t until Julie was pulling on close-fitting corded pants in a rather attractive shade of purple that she paused to wonder why Emma should have asked her such a strange question. Then she shrugged and went on dressing. No doubt the child was sensitive to atmosphere, and there had been plenty of that in Robert’s car yesterday.

She put on a fine wool cream sweater with the pants, leaving her throat to rise smoothly from the open neckline. Her hair hung silkily about her shoulders, and the only make-up she used was a faint eye-shadow and a colourless lustre for her lips.

When she was satisfied with her appearance, she left her room and walked determinedly along the hall to the lounge. The hall, now she had time to notice it, was wide and attractive, papered in gold damask with several examples of French Impressionist painting lining the walls. The carpet was blue and gold, and there was a gilt-edged occasional table and two chairs to match beside it.

The double doors which led into the lounge were at the end of the hall near the single panelled door which opened into the lobby they had entered the previous afternoon.

Summoning all her courage, she pressed open the lounge doors and entered the room, closing them behind her. Unlike the night before, it was not deserted now. Emma and her grandmother were seated on a low couch near the windows, looking at a picture book from which Lucy was reading a story, while Halbird was busily dusting the bookshelves which flanked the hi-fi equipment at the far end of the room. He looked up as she came in, and his smile made up for Lucy’s apparent ignorance of her presence.

‘Good morning, Mrs. Pemberton,’ he said, stopping what he was doing. ‘If you’ll come through to the dining-room, I’ve prepared a little something for you.’

‘Oh – oh, you shouldn’t have bothered.’ Julie glanced doubtfully at her mother-in-law and Emma, and this time they both looked up.

‘Grandma’s reading me a story,’ said Emma innocently.

‘Good morning, Julie.’ Lucy’s greeting was less than cordial. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Thank you, yes.’ Julie glanced at Halbird, who was standing waiting for her. ‘Excuse me, I’ll just go and have some coffee.’

Lucy returned her attention to the book for a moment and then looked up again. ‘I thought we might go shopping this afternoon,’ she said with reluctance. ‘This child is hopelessly ill equipped for a winter in England.’

Julie stiffened. ‘Most of Emma’s clothes are in the trunks coming by sea—’

‘I know that. The trunks have already arrived.’

‘Where are they, then?’ Julie looked bewildered.

‘They’re at the house, of course,’ replied Lucy. ‘There was no point in bringing them here, was there? You won’t be staying here that long.’

Julie felt exasperated. ‘But I can’t possibly manage more than a couple of days with what I’ve brought with me.’

Lucy shrugged indifferently. ‘You can always buy a few things for yourself.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘I doubt very much whether the clothes you wore in Malaya will be particularly useful here. Apart from the change of climate, you’ll be expected to dress fashionably. And as Michael’s widow …’ She dabbed her eyes suddenly, and Julie turned away.

She couldn’t bear to say anything more. She didn’t trust herself to do so. Not without causing another row. Emma was looking from one to the other of them with evident concern, and besides, this was neither the time nor the place to discuss Michael.

Instead, she followed Halbird through the door he indicated and found herself in a large, well lit dining-room. The dining-table was long and highly polished, and a single place had been laid at one end for her. There was coffee, and warm rolls, toast and marmalade, and scrambled eggs keeping warm over a burner. Julie felt a ridiculous prick of tears at Halbird’s thoughtfulness.

Turning to him, she exclaimed helplessly: ‘This wasn’t necessary, you know.’

The man smiled. ‘You had no dinner last evening,’ he pointed out. ‘I’m sure you must be hungry. Everything looks so much better if the stomach’s not crying out for sustenance.’

Julie glanced at him sharply, but his expression was benign. All the same, she sensed Halbird’s sympathy, and was unreasonably glad of it. It was reassuring to know that one person at least did not resent her being here.

And, in fact, she made a good breakfast. Despite the emotional state of her nerves she was hungry, she found, and after a plate of scrambled eggs, some toast and marmalade, and several cups of strong black coffee she did indeed feel more ready to face the world in general and the Pemberton’s in particular.

She was chatting to Halbird about the changes she had seen the day before in London when Robert came in. This morning he was wearing dark green suede pants and a matching shirt in a slightly lighter shade together with a dark brown leather waistcoat that hung loosely from his shoulders. He looked big and powerful and disturbing, and Julie had to steel herself not to stare at him.

‘Well?’ he said abruptly, interrupting their conversation. ‘Are you ready?’

Julie looked up then. ‘Ready?’ She raised her dark eyebrows. ‘Ready for what?’

Robert glanced meaningfully at Halbird, and the manservant nodded politely and left the room, returning to the lounge to finish his dusting, Julie supposed.

‘Didn’t Emma advise you of the arrangements?’ Robert was distant.

Julie sighed and rose to her feet, smoothing down the cream sweater over her slim hips. ‘Not really. She said something about you and her going to see the new house.’

‘Precisely.’ Robert surveyed her intently. ‘Naturally you’ll want to see your new home, too.’

‘Oh, thank you. That was thoughtful.’ The sarcasm was audible in Julie’s voice.

Robert uttered an expletive. ‘For God’s sake, Julie, we can’t go on like this. Look – can’t we at least behave civilly in front of Emma? I’m getting a bit sick of this constant bickering.’

‘So am I!’ Julie flared.

‘Well, then.’

Julie shook her head. ‘It’s easy for you, isn’t it? You’re having everything your own way, aren’t you?’