Storm In A Rain Barrel

by Anne Mather

  ‘James leaves for London tomorrow. Did you know, Melanie?’

  Melanie shrugged. ‘No, but then nobody bothers to tell me anything,’ she replied good-humouredly. She glanced at Domine who was flicking through the pages of a magazine. ‘What about Domine?’

  Mrs. Mannering raised her dark eyebrows. ‘She’ll stay here, of course.’

  Melanie grimaced. ‘There’s no “of course” about it, Aunt Geraldine. You know James. He’s just as likely to decide he’s going to take her with him.’

  Mrs. Mannering controlled her annoyance. ‘I happen to know that Domine is staying here,’ she said tightly. ‘Will you pass me a cigarette, Domine, my dear?’

  Domine got up to hand Mrs. Mannering the cigarette box from an occasional table, and then waited to light her cigarette with the table lighter. ‘Thank you,’ Mrs. Mannering smiled pleasantly and blew smoke into the air. ‘Have you ever smoked, Domine?’

  Domine shrugged, and resumed her seat. ‘Occasionally,’ she admitted. ‘It had to be done in secret, of course. The Sisters at the convent, naturally, didn’t approve of nicotine.’

  ‘Naturally,’ echoed Mrs. Mannering. ‘Tell me, why do you suppose Henry took you away from the orphanage?’

  Melanie looked a trifle impatiently in her aunt’s direction. ‘Is that relevant, Aunt Geraldine?’ she questioned, rather shortly. Of late she had taken to sticking up for Domine.

  ‘I think it’s perfectly relevant,’ replied Mrs. Mannering, with obvious annoyance. ‘Well, Domine?’

  Domine sighed, and closed the magazine. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, pensively, resting her head against the back of the chair. ‘I suppose because I was my father’s child. My father was his nephew.’

  ‘Yes, I am aware of the relationship,’ remarked Mrs. Mannering sardonically. ‘However, I don’t believe that Henry had shown any particular interest in your family before this—unhappy—time, had he?’

  Domine flushed. ‘Not particularly. We—we did get Christmas cards—that sort of thing.’

  ‘Yes—but it was strange, was it not, that after so many years of—well, separation, he should suddenly decide to make you his ward.’

  ‘My parents had just been killed,’ Domine pointed out, rather tautly. ‘Until then I don’t suppose he thought we—well, needed him.’

  Mrs. Mannering shook her head. ‘I simply cannot fathom his motives.’

  ‘Did he have to have any?’ asked Domine quietly.

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Mrs. Mannering gave a short laugh. ‘If you’d known Henry Farriday as well as I knew Henry Farriday, you wouldn’t ask that question.’

  Melanie looked at Domine’s rather exhausted young face, and said: ‘Maybe, dear aunt, your persistent attempts to torment him drove him away.’ She smiled mockingly. ‘Just as they’re driving James away now.’

  ‘Be quiet!’ Mrs. Mannering’s annoyance erupted into anger. ‘James has a perfectly legitimate reason for going to London!’

  ‘Has he?’ Melanie looked sceptical. ‘Or is he aware that if he emerges from the seclusion of his study here, you’ll have Yvonne here so fast her feet won’t touch the ground?’

  ‘How dare you speak to me like this?’ gasped Mrs. Mannering furiously. ‘Melanie, apologize!’

  Melanie lay back in her chair, folding her legs. ‘Okay, okay,’ she said, a trifle resignedly. ‘Maybe that was going a bit too far. But I still maintain, people don’t want to be manoeuvred all their lives.’

  ‘No one manoeuvred Henry Farriday,’ exclaimed Mrs. Mannering, trying to gather her composure.

  ‘Agreed. So maybe I was right. Maybe he found a respite from your badgering with Domine,’ asserted Melanie.

  Domine sighed. Mrs. Mannering and Melanie were constantly antagonistic towards one another, and James was the usual subject of contention. Melanie was right when she averred that Mrs. Mannering was ambitious for her son in every direction.

  ‘Well, anyway,’ said Mrs. Mannering, ‘I wish I could be certain that Henry had not some trump card up his sleeve, just waiting to be played.’

  ‘What trump card could he have?’ Domine was curious.

  Melanie shrugged. ‘Who knows?’ She smiled at Domine. ‘My aunt has the apprehensions of the guilt-stricken!’

  ‘Melanie!’ Mrs. Mannering stubbed out her cigarette angrily. ‘I will not listen to your ridiculous baiting! If you can’t keep your opinions to yourself, then kindly go to your room!’

  Melanie didn’t move, but she lifted the magazine Domine had discarded and began to glance at it indifferently. Domine felt uncomfortable. It was bad enough sitting here pretending she didn’t care that James was leaving in the morning without listening to the two women fencing with each other.

  Sighing, she got to her feet, and Mrs. Mannering looked up. ‘Where are you going, Domine?’

  ‘To my room.’

  ‘Why? Are you tired of Melanie’s rudeness, too?’

  Domine coloured. ‘I’m tired,’ she said, refusing to enter the argument, and Melanie half-smiled to herself. Then the door opened, and James came into the room.

  Dressed in cream slacks and a dark sweater, he looked dark and attractive, and Domine felt her heart contract in a most peculiar way. He looked across at her flushed cheeks and said, rather wearily:

  ‘What’s going on? I heard raised voices.’

  Melanie looked up resignedly. ‘Your mother has been laying down her law again,’ she replied sardonically, ‘and I think your ward has had just about enough.’

  Mrs. Mannering rose to her feet. ‘James, have I to suffer Melanie’s rudeness indefinitely, or are you going to ask her to leave?’

  James heaved a sigh. ‘You know very well that without Melanie Grey Witches would fall apart,’ he said honestly. ‘You make a good mistress, Mother, but you seem to have forgotten the practical necessities of living. Without Melanie’s help you would find your life much different.’

  ‘James!’

  ‘Well, it’s true.’ He thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘Anyway, Domine won’t have to put up with your bickering after tonight. I’m taking her with me tomorrow.’

  Domine’s heart somersaulted sickly, and she had to put out a hand to support herself on the back of a chair. He couldn’t be serious. He was actually telling his mother he was taking her to London!

  Mrs. Mannering’s mouth tightened. ‘That’s impossible, James, and you know it. The girl can’t possibly live with you at the apartment.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Mrs. Mannering pressed a hand to her throat. ‘You—ask me—that!’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, James, don’t talk so foolishly! Domine is staying here. Besides,’ she hesitated, ‘besides, Melanie needs her help. She’s proved quite useful about the farm, hasn’t she, Melanie?’

  Melanie gave an indifferent shrug, and Domine realized that the older girl liked this no more than Mrs. Mannering did, but that she was keeping her thoughts to herself. It was Melanie’s attitude that caused Domine to say, quite clearly:

  ‘Don’t alarm yourself unnecessarily, Mrs. Mannering. I shall not be going with your son. I—I would prefer to stay here!’

  James’s eyes burned into hers, and he said tautly: ‘That’s not the whole truth, Domine.’

  Domine straightened her shoulders. ‘Isn’t it?’ She managed a light smile. ‘Of course it is.’ She saw the relief in Melanie’s face and pressed on: ‘Besides, your work is in London, and I should only be in the way.’

  Mrs. Mannering nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, that’s right, James,’ she said, crossing the room and taking his arm.

  James shook her off and looked piercingly at Domine. ‘You want to stay here?’ he asked coldly.

  Domine shivered. She wanted to say no, that she wanted to leave with him more than anything else in the world, but that would be ridiculous and traitorous when she knew how much Melanie thought of him. And besides, he was only asking her to go because of the situation here, because he thought she might run away after he had left and he didn’t want
her on his conscience. He had no real desire for her company; what possible pleasure could he get out of her company anyway? He was so much older, so much more experienced, while she was merely a nuisance, an oddity, a responsibility.

  ‘Yes,’ she said now. ‘I want to stay.’

  He studied her for another disturbing moment, and then he shrugged. ‘So be it!’ he remarked wryly, and with an indifferent gesture he left the room.

  As soon as James had left for London Domine regretted the impulse that had made her refuse to go with him. The whole day she imagined him driving down through the November mists, and there was an awful tugging feeling in her heart. But deciding that physical exercise was the best medicine for the blues, she joined Melanie in the stables and worked until her whole body ached and all she longed to do was climb into bed.

  During the days that followed she used the same method to dispel her melancholy, and eventually the resilience of youth returned, and she began to wonder when he would return. The night his play was performed on television, Mrs. Mannering had dinner served early so that they could all watch it, and Domine was pleasantly surprised to discover it was quite a straightforward production with a real story, and not one of those awful presentations where the viewer was left high and dry at the end, wondering what he had actually witnessed.

  When it was over, Mrs. Mannering went into the hall to telephone her son and offer her congratulations at the success the play had been, and Domine and Melanie went into the kitchen to prepare supper.

  Pouring milk into cups, Melanie said wryly: ‘Aunt Geraldine has made sure her congratulations will be offered in a personal way. She arranged for Yvonne to be admitted to the producer’s box during the transmission.’

  Domine quelled the feeling of dismay this aroused inside her. ‘Isn’t that rather futile?’

  she asked casually. ‘I mean—it’s obvious that James isn’t interested in Yvonne.’

  Melanie shrugged. ‘There is such a thing as habit, you know,’ she said dryly. ‘Aunt Geraldine thinks that if she keeps throwing them together James will get used to the idea of having Yvonne around. A few months ago she thought she had succeeded. James spent a lot of time with our poor little rich girl. But nothing seems to last with him. He soon tires of these brainless beauties. Basically, he’s a Yorkshireman at heart, and there’s a hard streak in him that demands something more than mere good looks and social position. Besides, think what an uninteresting existence it would be with someone like Yvonne whose main interests are having a good time and clothes! Or should I say clothes and having a good time? I think they vie with each other for first position.’ She gave a harsh laugh. ‘I used to think James would marry me some day.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m beginning to realize that’s a vain hope, too. I sometimes wonder if he’ll ever marry anyone. Although he likes women—at least,’ she gave Domine a wry glance, ‘he needs a woman, now and then, he’s not as sensual as a man in his position could be.’ She sighed and leant back against the stainless steel draining board.

  ‘Tell me, Domine, how do you see him?’

  Domine shrugged, turning away to take a tin of biscuits out of the cupboard so that Melanie should not see her expression. ‘He’s really very kind,’ she said at last. ‘I mean—it was kind, wasn’t it, taking on the responsibility for me?’

  Melanie nodded. ‘Oh, yes, he’s kind. And he’s gentle sometimes. He has a foul temper, and I’ve seen him thrash a man when the other fellow criticized his mother, but he has charm, and with charm one can get away with murder.’ She smoothed the cool steel of the sink thoughtfully. ‘Why didn’t you go with him—to London?’ Her eyes when she turned them on Domine were searching.

  Domine bent her head. ‘I—I don’t know,’ she confessed. ‘Why?’

  Melanie grimaced. ‘Oh, kid, don’t go falling for him,’ she exclaimed. ‘I know the signs—I’ve been there myself!’

  Domine looked up. ‘I’m not a kid, you know,’ she said, with dignity.

  Melanie smiled. ‘Aren’t you? Well, maybe not, but to James Mannering you are. Heavens, he’s old enough to be your father, do you know that?’

  ‘Not quite,’ said Domine tightly.

  ‘Oh, yes, quite,’ retorted Melanie. ‘He’s thirty-seven, you’re seventeen! At twenty, James was quite capable of fathering you!’

  Domine flushed. ‘I’m almost eighteen,’ she pointed out quietly. Then she brushed back her fringe with her hand. ‘In any case, this is a purely senseless discussion. I have no intention of “falling for” James, and certainly there’s no fear of him falling for me!’

  Melanie considered this. ‘No, I would agree with you up to a point. My only anxiety where you’re concerned is that you could get hurt. I’m not sure how or why, but I feel it.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly!’ cried Domine. ‘Look, the percolater’s bubbling!’

  Melanie unplugged the coffee pot and placed it on the trolley she was preparing to take into the lounge, then looked at Domine thoughtfully. ‘You’re an attractive creature, Domine,’ she said quietly. ‘You weren’t when you came, wet and miserable, and lost somehow. But now, after three weeks of good food and country air, you’re a different proposition, and I’m just afraid that—’ She bit her lip and shook her head. ‘Don’t let James hurt you,’ she said briefly, and without another word she wheeled the trolley through to the lounge.

  Domine frowned. She could have told Melanie she was a little late with her warning.

  James had already hurt her.

  During the second week after James’s departure, when Domine was beginning to feel low again, Vincent Morley called one morning and asked whether he might be allowed to take her to Scarborough with him. His mother lived there, apparently, and he was going to visit her and thought Domine might enjoy the opportunity of seeing the countryside and the town itself.

  Mrs. Mannering was quite amiable, and although Domine felt guilty at leaving Melanie with everything to do alone, the older girl gently urged her to accept Vincent’s invitation.

  ‘He’s a nice young man,’ she said, smiling in her sardonic way. ‘Much more suitable for you than cleaning out the henhouses.’

  Domine chuckled, but it was quite exciting getting ready and wondering whether she might spend some of her money on some new clothes and perhaps a few oddments for Christmas, which was fast approaching.

  In the event, she enjoyed the day enormously. Vincent was a good companion, and she discovered quite a lot about him. They left immediately after lunch, and as it was one of those crisp November days when the air tasted like wine, Domine relaxed in the Land-Rover feeling quite different from the shy creature she had been when she drove away from the convent with James. At least living with Mrs. Mannering and Melanie had taught her to stand up for herself.

  When they arrived in Scarborough, they wandered round the shops for a while, and Domine was amazed at the amount of boutiques there were, all with clothes suitable for teenagers and young women. She chose a red coat for herself in the new midi-length, and while it was not as richly-textured as Yvonne’s had been, it suited her olive colouring. To wear with it she bought a dress of royal blue jersey that clung in all the right places, and finally some knee-length leather boots, and some gloves and a handbag to match. She put all her purchases in the back of the Land-Rover and then they drove down to the promenade so that Domine could see the shoreline. But they did not linger. Everywhere was closed for the season and there was a melancholy air about shuttered windows and sheeted amusements.

  Finally they drove towards Peasholm Park on the north side of the town where Mrs. Morley lived in a rather attractive bungalow. She was a widow and she welcomed them warmly, making Domine feel quite at home. Not much older than Mrs. Mannering, she had none of the other woman’s hardness, and there was genuine regret in her voice when, after a delicious high tea of ham and pineapple, fruit trifle and home-made cakes, they had to leave.

  ‘You must come again,’ she averred, smiling at her son. ‘Vincent will bri
ng you, won’t you, love?’

  Vincent nodded enthusiastically. ‘Of course. This is Domine’s first visit to Scarborough. She must come when everything starts moving again, and the sun is really warm.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Mrs. Morley, nodding, ‘but don’t wait that long to bring her, will you?’ She chuckled.

  In the Land-Rover, going home, Domine said: ‘Oh, your mother is nice, isn’t she? I think she’s exactly the way a mother should be.’

  Vincent smiled. ‘She liked you, too. I think she considers I’m becoming set in my ways, and when I produce a girl for her inspection she immediately jumps to conclusions.’

  Domine coloured in the darkness, and he continued: ‘Not that I’ve brought many girls to meet her. She’s not the kind to take to some of these so-called “swingers”.’ He smiled wryly. ‘And I know I’m getting less attached to the solitude of my house. Oh, I have a woman who comes in and keeps the place clean, but it’s not much fun cooking just for one.’

  Domine bit her lip. She had the feeling that while he might protest, Vincent was allowing his mother’s attitude towards him settling down to influence his relationships with girls. No girl wanted to be taken too seriously too soon. It was a little like rushing things. So Domine changed the subject, and stared out into the darkness, wondering with a pang where James Mannering was tonight. There had been no word from him for her, although Mrs. Mannering had spoken to him once or twice on the telephone. Melanie had confided to her that Mrs. Mannering’s plans could not be bearing fruit yet or they would have heard about it, and in a gossip column Melanie had read that James had been seen in the company of Lucia Marcinello, the widow of an Italian ship-owner, whose organization had gone bankrupt, causing him to decide he had nothing left to live for. ‘Naturally, that won’t please Aunt Geraldine,’ Melanie had remarked wryly. ‘Apart from the obvious lack of funds, the tragedy caused quite a scandal a couple of months ago.’ Domine had had no opinion to offer, and had, instead, spent a sleepless night trying to decide what best she could do when her six months with the Mannerings was over.