Winter Sunlight

by Susan Alexander

  Winter Sunlight

  By

  Susan Alexander

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  WINTER SUNLIGHT

  Sophie Carter hadn't wanted to accept the temporary assignment as nanny to the von Hartog family. True, she would be in Austria with time to enjoy the skiing, but she was tired. And when Maximilian von Hartog began to spend more and more time with her, she wished she hadn't been persuaded to go…

  First published in Great Britain 1987

  by Mills & Boon Limited

  © Susan Alexander 1987

  Australian copyright 1987

  Philippine copyright 1987

  This edition 1987

  ISBN 0 263 75645 9

  CHAPTER ONE

  'No,' Sophie Carter said adamantly.

  'But, Sophie darling, it's tailor-made for you.'

  The older woman leaned back in her leather chair and looked up at her. She had a long way to look, because Sophie was very tall indeed. Nor was she exactly thin as a reed. Her voluptuous figure was generously proportioned and topped by a vivid face. Below the thick, luxuriant black hair, that face was not beautiful. Large eyes of a nondescript hazel, a straight nose, a mouth too full for symmetry and a chin given to determined stances all added up to what Sophie herself derided as plain, ignoring the creamy skin and the light eyes that could flash with anger or mischief, revealing tiny flecks of tawny yellow. Her height gave her a commanding presence, and Sophie was used to getting her own way.

  The silence lengthened as the two women looked into each other's eyes. It was Sophie who first dropped her gaze.

  'There are times, Lottie Ritter, when I positively dislike you,' she announced, and sat down.

  'I know dear, and I realise I'm being difficult, but it would be so…'

  'No,' Sophie said for the second time.

  The older woman reached for a cigarette from a silver box on the desk in front of her.

  'Sometimes I wonder if I really understand you,' she said slowly.

  'I thought you knew us all so well you could practically hear us think,' retorted Sophie drily.

  'And now I've made you angry,' said Lottie quietly, 'which is the last thing I wanted.'

  Her voice was soft, the slight, guttural sound of her foreign origin only faintly discernible in her pronunciation. With her vivid red hair she successfully disguised how old she was. The pale, wrinkled face and slightly arthritic hands revealed her to be pushing seventy, but the sprightly energy and the lively curiosity in the small brown eyes more than made up for the bottle-coloured hair and heavy make-up.

  As she watched her insert the cigarette into an ancient tortoiseshell holder, Sophie's face softened. She owed Lottie more than she could ever repay. Five years ago, she had first walked into the tiny cramped office with its huge antique desk, its ancient black typewriter and its mountains of files perching on tables and spilling to the floor in all corners of the room. Her Norland nanny diploma clutched in her hand, Sophie had been shy and awkward, desperately conscious of her height and what she considered her total lack of attraction.

  Lottie had taken her on, and in the months that followed had coaxed and bullied her into a more confident frame of mind, persuading her to abandon the flat heels, short cropped hair and baggy clothes that Sophie imagined concealed her size, urging her to go to evening classes to learn French and German, and generally encouraging, criticising and sympathising until the never-to-be-forgotten day when she announced Sophie was ready for her first job interviews.

  Now, at twenty-six, with her thick wavy hair coiled neatly into her neck, the carefully chosen simple clothes of excellent cut and her high heels, Sophie had a poise and confidence that she owed almost entirely to Lottie Ritter.

  'Let me explain,' Lottie was saying. 'The von Hartogs are recently divorced and the children live with their mother. These three weeks skiing is the only time they can spend with their father. And now, with their nanny sick, their mother is threatening to cancel the holiday.' She looked pleadingly at Sophie. 'And it's in Kitzbühl, where you're booked to go in any case for your own holiday! It could all fit in so well,' she coaxed.

  'You don't understand,' said Sophie quietly. 'I'm really exhausted. My year in the desert wasn't easy, and I'm not fit to take on another job till I've had a break.'

  Lottie didn't comment.

  'Then, in five weeks, I start with the Carringtons,' Sophie went on. 'And we both know that won't be a picnic. A new baby with an older child who's been ill and a mother with high society commitments, a father in the diplomatic service…' She paused. 'And I do have to see Hilary. She's been nagging me to go down and I've promised.'

  'You could see your sister tomorrow,' suggested Lottie. 'And at least the Carrington job's in London, so you can spend your free time in your own flat.'

  Sophie looked at the other woman with some curiosity.

  'This is really important to you, isn't it?' she asked.

  Lottie blushed faintly. 'I used to know the family. A long time ago—before the war. In another world,' she added softly. 'Yes, it does mean a lot to me, and I'd like to help.'

  'Why don't you send Sally Hutton? She speaks German.'

  'She doesn't ski.'

  'You don't have to ski to take kids to ski school.'

  'It's more than that. I can trust you with the children. You won't run down the other nanny and split their loyalties.'

  Lottie looked rather intently at Sophie. 'You're the best I have and I want them to have you,' she finished roughly.

  Sophie's eyes widened in surprise, words trembling on her lips.

  'And if you ever dare quote that back to me, I'll deny it,' Lottie added fiercely. 'Every word.'

  In the silence the older woman looked almost defiant as Sophie stared at her. Suddenly Sophie smiled. Her mouth curved, her eyes twinkled and her whole face lit up with mischief.

  'Well, well,' she murmured softly. 'That is interesting, isn't it? I wonder…'

  'Now look here, Sophie Carter, if you dare…'

  'It's all right,' Sophie interrupted. 'You win. I'll go.'

  With a sigh of pleasure, Sophie settled into the window corner of her first-class compartment. So far, the journey had gone without a hitch.

  The crisp, cold air of Munich had filled her lungs as she emerged from the airport and climbed into a taxi to take her to the Hauptbahnhof, the main-line station, where she would catch the early evening train across the Austrian border to Kitzbühl. Having trundled her skis to the luggage van, she found her reserved seat and now looked out eagerly at the busy station.

  The lights were coming on, and business was brisk at the small glass kiosks selling everything from newspapers and flowers to hot frankfurters, fresh rolls and mouth-watering cakes. Below the vaulted glass ceiling, the electronic signs announced the far-flung destinations of trains waiting patiently below. The train was crowded. Heavy boots tramped along the corridors, voices were raised in French and German as travellers found their seats, on the way to the mountains for the weekend skiing. Sophie opened her pigskin dressing case, a present from the Arab family she had just left, and checked she had everything to hand: passport, ticket, seat reservation docket and the von Hartog villa address in case no one came to meet her. She removed her German money to a zipped interior pocket and transferred the Austrian currency to her wallet before closing the case to rest it on the seat beside her, her thoughts returning to the previous day.

  Her
sister had met her at the station, still resentful that Sophie couldn't spend the night as planned.

  'I thought you had a couple of weeks before your holiday,' she complained.

  'So did I,' responded Sophie cheerfully, 'but something's come up and I have to sandwich in another job. I leave tomorrow.'

  'For the fleshpots of the wealthy as usual, I suppose,' Hilary commented acidly as she manoeuvred the car out of the station forecourt on to the main road to Virginia Water.

  'Are the children home?' asked Sophie lightly, determined to steer the conversation into safer channels.

  'No, thank God! I've managed to park them for the day. I had the devil's own job getting them to leave once they knew you were coming, and I've had to promise they can come home before you leave.'

  'Good—I'm longing to see them. It's been over a year. They must have changed out of all recognition.'

  A few moments later they turned into the gravel driveway of the Burton home. Fronted by a modern Georgian facade, it stood in its own grounds surrounded by a belt of cedar trees, which gave it privacy and an impressive aura of affluence. One of several houses built in the same style, its shaved lawns, clipped hedges and brass-studded front doors varied in shape only to distinguish them from each other.

  Inside everything was immaculate, with hot-house flowers in tall vases and wall-to-wall carpeting. The central heating enveloped them in instant warmth, the silent hush of the house almost oppressive.

  'Drink?' asked Hilary.

  'Not for me, thanks, but I'd love some coffee.'

  Hilary stopped in mid-stride on her way to the sitting-room.

  'Don't worry,' Sophie added quickly. I'll get it. Come and join me in the kitchen.'

  As always, the large kitchen was spotless. Labour-saving machines stood ranged along the units, and Sophie plugged in the percolator as Hilary arrived with her drink.

  'Anything wrong, Hil?' Sophie asked.

  'Just the usual.' Hilary sat down at the centre table.

  'Things getting you down?' Sophie prompted.

  The ice cubes tinkled as Hilary lifted her tumbler and drank deeply.

  'Oh, what's the use of talking about it? You never understand how I feel.'

  Sophie didn't comment, sitting down opposite her sister.

  'You're so damned cheerful all the time,' Hilary went on. 'It's enough to drive a saint mad!'

  'You asked me to come,' said Sophie quietly. 'I thought you wanted to talk.'

  'I know I did, but I forget that you can't understand normal people with normal lives. You have this glamorous existence living in fantastic houses all over the world, waited on by servants; you have no idea what a drudgery it is down here, every day like the one before—boring, dull!'

  Sophie looked at her sister—the smooth, youthful face, pale gold hair swept back into a sophisticated mass of curls and the slim, petite figure in its expensive Jaeger suit. Was it true? Was she unable to appreciate the problems of her sister's life? Married at seventeen to a successful man considerably older, now at twenty-three with two young daughters, Hilary was still a very young woman with no experience except marriage.

  'What's wrong—especially—at the moment?' she asked.

  Hilary looked down into her glass. 'I'm thinking of leaving Robert and letting him keep the kids.'

  Sophie got up and switched off the coffee machine, her back to her sister.

  'Is there someone else?' she asked lightly.

  'There is another man,' said Hilary flatly, 'but he has no intention of leaving his wife.'

  'Does Robert know?'

  'I think he guesses. It's not the first time.' She hesitated. 'The trouble is, I don't want to go to bed with Robert any more.'

  Sophie picked up her mug and sat down. She didn't comment. Since she herself had never been married, she was hardly qualified to dish out advice, nor would Hilary welcome her opinion. They were still so different in their personalities and their expectations of life that there was little she could offer that her sister would find acceptable. She wondered why Hilary was confiding in her.

  'Robert's sleeping in the spare room,' Hilary went on, 'and I know he won't put up with that for long. He's changed,' she added reflectively. 'He's got quite hard—bossy, too. And he flares up at the least little thing.' She looked at Sophie. 'He can be quite unpleasant.'

  'Most men can, I believe, when their wives have affairs with other people,' replied Sophie drily.

  'Oh, for God's sake don't be such a prude!' Hilary snapped impatiently. 'All that went out with the dodo! Everybody does it now. Especially down here. Wife swapping's the number one hobby.' She laughed. 'You'd be shocked rigid at the things that go on.' Her lips tightened. 'I bet you wouldn't be so strait-laced if some gorgeous hunk of a man was bent on getting you to bed. It's only frustration that makes women like you prim and proper. I suppose you're still a virgin,' she added contemptuously.

  Sophie looked at her sister, her eyes blank, her face controlled. She had grown up with Hilary's taunts and was hardened to them. That she still had the power to wound her Sophie refused to admit, relieved at least that she no longer blushed and stammered when Hilary chose to rile her.

  'Don't let's quarrel,' she said after a moment, her voice expressionless. 'Why did you want to see me today? Was it to tell me all this?'

  Hilary fiddled with the rings on her left hand, the large sapphire glinting in the weak morning sun filtering through the net curtains. 'I thought per-haps—if I leave Robert—you could help me get a job.'

  'Doing what?'

  'I'd like to travel, meet new people, get a whiff of the high life, and I thought—well—nannying. I could give it a try. It can't be all that difficult, and I've plenty of experience of children.'

  'I see.' Sophie wondered briefly if Hilary was serious or if this was another whim arising out of her mood of despondency. Could she be seriously intending to dissolve her marriage and make her way alone?

  'I could probably help you,' she said now. 'But have you thought what you're giving up? All this?' She gestured with one hand. 'You're used to a large house which you don't clean and where you don't pay the bills. It would be very different if you lived alone.'

  'You manage,' Hilary pointed out.

  'In my fashion. But what I make couldn't run to a car and Jaeger suits.'

  'I don't need a lecture,' said Hilary sharply. 'I need help. So can you help me or not?'

  'If you really want to nanny I'd put you on to my agent,' Sophie said quietly, 'and she'd explain about training and prospects. There's the Norland course, which takes several years, and there are shorter courses. Then you do one year probationary work before you qualify. After that you can pick and choose your jobs.'

  'Years?' Hilary gasped. 'You have to be joking!'

  'It's what I did,' Sophie pointed out. 'But, Hilary, are you sure you want this?' she asked more gently. 'Even if you do land a job abroad eventually, it's not all roses. Employers demand value for money whoever they are… and however rich. You may have pleasant accommodation, but it's hard work. You spend twenty-four hours a day with children who aren't your own, and you have no rights over them. Anything you believe is best for them can be changed by their parents. You become fond of them, of course, but you have to take care they don't become dependent on your affection because you'll be leaving them eventually.'

  She looked down at her sister's horrified expression and smiled faintly. 'And you don't exactly meet fabulous people even if they are in the house, because you never socialise with your employers. Nor do you eat or live with the servants. You're an in-between… respected if you're good at your job, and sometimes even liked, but always alone.' Sophie got up and walked over to the window. She was almost thinking out loud, and from somewhere the words just came. 'And it's no use fantasising about the male members of the household. If any nanny is foolish enough to have an affair with a member of the family, it's the end of her career. She'll find it hard to get another job, because the nanny is always t
he one to get the blame.'

  She turned to her sister to find Hilary staring at her, wide-eyed and disbelieving.

  'Are you making this up to put me off?' she demanded.

  Sophie shook her head.

  'Then why do you do it?'

  Sophie shrugged. 'It suits me and I'm good at it. But I don't kid myself it's easy. Maybe I've earned a bit more than other girls, but it's a round-the-clock job. I can't just knock off at five, cover my typewriter and go home. Then there are gaps between jobs when I don't earn and have to live on my savings, or I could be ill, unable to work. The money soon goes. After five years I've a mortgaged one-bedroom flat to show for it. It's not really the high life is it?'

  Slowly and smoothly the train slid out of the station past friends and relatives waving on the platform. Then windows were closed and passengers settled. Sophie looked out at the suburban sprawl of Munich, the twin towers of the Frauenkirche receding into the distance, the brilliant green cupolas shining in the late afternoon sun.

  Had she been too hard on her sister yesterday? she wondered. The tensions from their childhood never left them, running like a thread through their adult lives. She always felt guilty and depressed after seeing Hilary. It made no sense and there was no reason for it, but she knew she still carried scars from the childhood they'd shared.

  Watching elderly parents adore the vivid prettiness of their younger daughter, Sophie had sensed early in life that she herself was not loved in the same way. Her attempts to please and her longing to be close to her sister had always been rebuffed—lightly, and with that tinkling laugh that Hilary used to charm those round her. By the time Sophie had reached her teens she had accepted that her lack of beauty and charm made it hard for her family to love her. And gradually she had withdrawn from them, determined to make no further attempts to seek their affection or approval. She had succeeded. In the years that followed she had made her own life outside the home, finding at school enough to absorb her energies. Returning each evening, she had willed herself to remain outside the charmed circle of her family, fiercely resolved not to intrude where she felt she wasn't wanted. And slowly, painfully she had learned to look on, watching the happiness she could not share.