“Anthea!” As he opened the door the light streamed out upon her, and he cried aloud in his delighted surprise. And then, to her inexpressible joy, she saw her young brother come running out into the hall, at the sound of Neil’s exclamation.
“Oh, Rollie — oh, Neil! I managed to come!” She almost fell over the threshold into her brother’s arms. And then Neil Prentiss hugged her with an almost equal fervour and said — with blessed speed and understanding, and before she could even voice the anxious question,
“It’s all right, dear. Your mother came through the operation well, and has been holding her own all day. She’s not quite out of the wood yet, but everyone is pretty confident and hopeful.”
“Oh, I’m so glad! So — so grateful to everyone! I don’t know what to say — I — ”
They had drawn her into the full light of the hall now, smiling at her in sheer pleasure and relief, and Roland was explaining how the Prentisses had kindly insisted on his coming to them while his mother was in hospital.
“They’ve been wonderful!” He flashed a grateful glance at the older man. “And now that you’re here — ” Then he stopped suddenly and exclaimed, “But how on earth are you here? There isn’t any train at this time of night.”
“No. Mr. Warrender brought me by road, as soon as the rehearsal was over,” explained Anthea, as though that were exactly the way Mr. Warrender usually behaved.
“Drove you all the way from London?” Roland was obviously impressed. While Neil said sceptically,
“Very unlike him, surely? He doesn’t usually show such consideration. Do you want us to put him up too, Anthea?”
“No. He has to go straight back. He only waited to see if I needed to be driven anywhere else. The — the hospital or anywhere.”
“You don’t need him for that,” Neil assured her quickly. “I’ll drive you anywhere you need to go now. But anyway, there’s no question of your going to the hospital tonight. They won’t let you see your mother until the morning.” And then, as hospitality got the better of natural resentment, he added, “At least won’t Warrender come in and have something to eat and drink before he drives back?”
“I’ll go and ask him.” Anthea turned back to the still open door.
“Shall I go?” Neil offered.
“No, no,” she said hastily. “I’ll go.” And she went quickly down the long path to the gate.
It was very dark beyond the wide swathe of light thrown from the open doorway, and it was not until she actually reached the car that she saw him. He was leaning forward, his arms crossed on the steering wheel and his head on his arms, and as far as she could see, he was fast asleep.
“Mr. Warrender,” she said softly, through the open window of the car, but he did not stir. And after a moment she put out her hand and touched him. It gave her the most curious sensation to do so and, for some inexplicable reason, she put her hand lightly on his smooth fair head and drew her fingers down until they rested on the back of his neck.
He gave a quick movement then and sat up. For a moment he looked at her with that peculiarly defenceless expression which some people have when they are only half awake. It was something so completely alien from his personality as she knew it that her voice was very gentle as she said,
“I’m sorry I had to wake you. Are you very tired?”
“No. I’m all right now.” He frowned slightly, as though rather annoyed at being discovered in a moment of weakness. “Where is the next port of call?”
“You don’t have to drive me anywhere else,” she assured him. “Neil will look after me now. The news about my mother is quite reassuring and I can see her tomorrow morning. But Neil says — won’t you come in and have something to eat and drink before you drive back? Please do.” As though reinforcing her plea, she allowed her hand to slide down until it rested on his. “I’ll be worried stiff if you start back right away, tired out as you are.”
“Will you really?” He glanced down amusedly at the hand on his. “But I don’t know that I should come in and take his hospitality, in the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
“Isn’t there some rule about not breaking bread with your enemy?” He still looked amused.
“But Neil isn’t an enemy!” She was shocked at such an idea. “He doesn’t really bear you any grudge for the way you behaved that night you took me home, if that’s what you mean.”
“That wasn’t — quite what I meant,” he said. But he got out of the car then, a little stiffly, and followed her up the path.
And presently she had the unreal experience of seeing him drink black coffee and eat hastily prepared sandwiches, while Mrs. Prentiss presided hospitably and Roland and Neil saw to her own wants. It was the most extraordinary mingling of the old life and the new. Everything about the pleasant, homely Prentiss household was typical of Cromerdale, the stuff of which almost all her life had been made. And yet the one person in the scene who did not belong to this at all seemed more significant to her than her own brother, hovering affectionately at her elbow.
He stayed no more than half an hour in all, during which time he made himself so charming that Mrs. Prentiss was obviously dazzled, and even Neil appeared to have forgotten their previous unfortunate meeting.
When the time came, he was preparing to escort Oscar Warrender out to his car, but Anthea jumped to her feet and went instead, a little as though she expected him to give her his last orders.
“Be sure you catch that train tomorrow,” he said, as they reached the gate. “I’m trusting you, mind.”
“I shan’t fail,” she promised. “And — thank you, even if you did this for the performance only.”
She raised her face to his and looked up at him and smiled.
“What’s this?” he demanded amusedly. “An invitation to kiss you?”
“If you like to take it that way.”
“I — like to take it that way,” he said slowly. And, taking her in his arms, he bent her back slightly and kissed her hard on her mouth.
“Oh — ” she gave a little gasp. “Was — was that also what you call a calculated risk?”
He laughed at that and flicked her cheek with his fingers.
“Ask me after the performance on Saturday,” he retorted. Then he got into the car and drove away.
Anthea went slowly back into the house, where the Prentisses were waiting to welcome her into their circle almost literally with open arms. Nothing could have exceeded their kindness. Like Roland, she was evidently expected to make this her home for the time being. And when Mrs. Prentiss finally took her upstairs to the charming room which had been prepared for her, Anthea said, almost with tears,
“I don’t know how to thank you. I simply don’t know how to thank you all.”
“That’s all right, my dear.” Her hostess smiled kindly at her. “We’re very fond of your family, you know. And Neil says you are going to be a famous singer one day, so of course we’re only too happy to help towards your peace of mind at a time like this.”
“They’re wonderful, wonderful people,” Anthea told herself, as she lay awake for ten minutes in her comfortable bed. “They are the kind of people who really matter. They haven’t an unkind thought in their heads, nor a streak of cruelty anywhere in their whole composition.”
And yet her thoughts wandered away from them and their comfortable, secure house, out into the night after a car speeding down the M.1. And when she finally fell asleep the sensation she carried with her was the feel of arms which held her with strength rather than tenderness, and lips which were firm and demanding against hers.
The next morning her breakfast was brought to her in bed and, even when she got up and came downstairs, she found that everything had been arranged to give her the maximum comfort and relaxation.
Neil had telephoned to the hospital even before Roland departed to school, and had elicited the information that Mrs. Benton had had a good night and that Anthea would be allowed to see her fo
r a short while during the morning.
“You make me feel I’m already having the prima donna treatment,” Anthea told Neil with a smile.
“Well, if Saturday night is a success, you’ll be entitled to that in future, won’t you?” he replied amusedly.
“Oh, indeed no!” She laughed at that. “Mr. Warrender won’t allow me to enjoy more than a brief moment of glory, I assure you. It will be back to the studio and the day-to-day discipline for me after that. But” — she smiled reflectively — “I don’t really mind. I begin to see the pattern of it all much more clearly.”
“Then he’s not a beast any more?” suggested Neil, half laughing in his turn.
“Oh, yes, he’s a beast all right! Anthea was in no doubt about that. “But an infinitely clever, rather wonderful beast, really, I suppose.”
For some reason or other, Neil seemed to find that answer not very much to his taste, for he frowned and remarked abruptly that it was time they went to the hospital.
He drove her down there, but insisted that she went in alone, so that her mother could enjoy her exclusive company, and Anthea entered the hospital with her heart beating hard.
It was strange to see her mother lying in bed, inactive and languid instead of energetically in charge of the scene. But she looked less frail than Anthea had expected, and her smile was brilliant when she saw her daughter.
“Why, dearie, how did you get here?” she enquired in happy surprise. “I thought you were miles away, preparing for your debut.”
“I was,” Anthea assured her, as she kissed her. “But the dress rehearsal went well, and Mr. Warrender drove me up late last night, so that I could have a few hours at home.”
“He drove you? Himself? Then he’s really rather kind and understanding, after all?”
“Well — no, I wouldn’t exactly describe him as that,” Anthea said. “But he has his moments. Anyway, he’s a marvellous teacher and director, and he seems to think me worth a lot of work and trouble. So I have to put up with it if he cracks the whip rather often.” And she made an amused little grimace.
Her mother lay and looked at her with loving satisfaction, and a sort of curiosity too, and presently she said, “You’ve changed, Anthea.”
“Changed, Mother? How do you mean?”
“You don’t look at all like the little singing student from Cromerdale now. You look like — like someone to whom life has become a rich and exciting thing.”
“Well, I suppose — it has,” Anthea conceded slowly.
“Because of your hopes for tomorrow night?”
“Not entirely.”
“Because of Oscar Warrender?” asked her mother shrewdly.
“Ye-es. But only in a completely professional way, you understand,” said Anthea quickly. “There’s nothing personal in our relationship. Nothing at all. I’m just a voice to him. I don’t think he even thinks of me as a woman at all.”
“And do you,” enquired her mother, “ever think of him as a man?”
“No.” Again Anthea answered quickly. “Just as a sort of — of elemental force. He’s the inspiration which lights the way ahead, and the storm which drives me on.”
“Very uncomfortable it sounds,” commented her mother, in her most matter-of-fact, Cromerdale manner. “But I see that might be why you look a little dazzled and enchanted and scared all at once.”
Then, before Anthea could enquire just what she meant by that, she changed the subject and asked about Roland, and spoke of the wonderful kindness they had received from the Prentisses.
“I don’t know what we should have done without them,” she exclaimed. “They seem to be the good angels of our lives. How we shall ever repay them I can’t imagine. Unless — ” she stopped and looked thoughtfully at her daughter.
“Unless what, Mother?”
“Did it ever strike you, Anthea, that it might be Neil Prentiss who made that extraordinarily generous gesture and provided for your training?”
“Yes, often,” Anthea said. “In fact, I’m certain it was he. And I hope that one day I’ll be able to repay him for all his kindness to this family by justifying his hopes and making him proud of me.”
“Well, perhaps that’s all he hopes for.” Her mother looked quizzical. “Have you ever let him know that you guess? — or attempted to thank him for his generosity?”
“No.” Anthea shook her head. “I thought — at least, Miss Sharon thought — that if my benefactor chose to remain unknown, one should respect his or her wishes.”
“Oh, that’s taking a sense of delicacy too far!” declared Mrs. Benton briskly. “You’ve been silent quite long enough to pay tribute to anything like that. I think you should thank him — and tell him that you know you owe this great chance tomorrow night to his help.”
“It’s — a tempting thought.” Anthea smiled slowly. “And, since I shall be earning a good fee for the performance, it’s perhaps the right time to say that, the moment I can manage for myself, I don’t intend to take everything for granted.”
Her mother nodded approvingly. And then suddenly Anthea saw that she was beginning to look tired and, even before the nurse came in to warn her, she decided it was time she should go.
She bade her mother a loving goodbye, promised to write reassuringly to her father at his convalescent home, and then went out into the sunshine once more, where Neil was waiting for her.
“I hope I haven’t kept you too long!” She smiled at him radiantly, as she slipped into the seat beside him.
“Oh, no. And there’s no need to ask what the news is. You look brilliant.”
“Yes. She’s going on splendidly. Oh, the relief!” She drew a long happy sigh. “And now I can concentrate on tomorrow night.”
“That’s right.” He smiled at her affectionately. “There’s plenty of time to run you home for coffee before I take you to catch your train.”
“Dear Neil! He thinks of everything,” she thought. And suddenly she was very happy at the realisation that she was going to be able to put some of her gratitude into words at last.
When they got back to the house Mrs. Prentiss was out shopping, so they had the place to themselves, and it was Neil who made the coffee and carried it through into the sitting-room.
“Do you realise” — she turned to him eagerly, as he set down the tray — “that tomorrow night I shall earn my first fee as a professional singer?”
“Well, yes, I suppose you will.” He looked amused. “I hadn’t thought of that side of it.”
“I had. And most of all because it gives me the first hope of beginning to repay the tremendous debt I owe to my — my wonderful benefactor. Oh, I accepted it all willingly, and I was grateful beyond description. But I’d be a pretty poor sort of person if I didn’t want to repay one day, shouldn’t I?”
He did not answer at once, and she repeated rather anxiously, “Shouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Suppose the giver didn’t want you to make a return?”
“But I think,” Anthea replied, a little pleadingly, “that he would understand my feelings. You — you don’t mind my saying this, do you? You understand my point of view, the way I feel about it?”
“Why of course, my dear. I understand absolutely. But — ”
“Then I can say it! And I want so terribly to say it now, at this very minute. Thank you, Neil! Thank you, thank you for all you’ve done. Nothing could ever repay the kindness and the imaginative generosity, but at least you will allow me to — ”
“Just a moment.” He had actually risen to his feet, as though moved by some powerful emotion. “You’ve got something badly wrong, Anthea. Have you been supposing that I was responsible for all this?”
“Why, of course!” She went suddenly pale. “You — you are, aren’t you? Please, please don’t deny it, just because you feel — ”
“But, darling girl, I must deny it! I’m not the person concerned. I wish I were. I would accept your adorable gratitude only too will
ingly. But — I can’t.”
“You mean She stared at him aghast, as though still hardly able to take in what he was saying. “You mean it isn’t you? But then” — she passed the tip of her tongue over suddenly dry lips — “who is it? Who knows enough — cares enough – ?”
She stopped and looked at him almost beseechingly. And after a moment, he cleared his throat and said, rather uncomfortably,
“I’ve always supposed it was Warrender himself.”
CHAPTER VIII
“Oscar Warrender?” repeated Anthea in utter consternation. “You couldn’t possibly think such a thing! Oscar Warrender paid for my training? Oh, no — no. It’s just not to be thought of. He’s not that kind of man.”
“Isn’t he?” said Neil sombrely. “I should have thought he was.”
“What? Generous and romantic?”
“No. Rather made up with the idea of playing God.”
“Oh — ” That did sound more like him, she was bound to admit, and for a moment she pressed the back of her hand against her lips in fresh dismay. But she simply could not accept even the bare possibility that she could owe everything to the man she detested, and after a moment she exclaimed,
“Why should he even want to, Neil? In the beginning he quite despised me. He even saw to it that I lost that competition.”
“And, in so doing, left you entirely dependent on whatever he chose to do,” replied Neil drily. “He couldn’t possibly have thought of a better way of gaining full authority over you. As for his despising you or your voice, I simply don’t believe that he ever did either. On the contrary, I think he recognised immediately that you had talent of a quite extraordinary quality — ”
He stopped as Anthea gave a sudden exclamation, and she said slowly,
“You remind me — of something he said — when he was so angry with me for wanting to go straight home to Mother, instead of taking on this performance. He said that he thought I had the most beautiful lyric voice he had ever heard.”
“There you are!” Neil sounded gloomily triumphant. “He recognized its unique quality, and he was determined that no one but he should handle you. I’m not blaming him for that, but I think he was a bit unscrupulous in the way he arranged things.”
A Song Begins (Warrender Saga Book 1) Page 14