Storm In A Rain Barrel

by Anne Mather

  With jerky movements she climbed out of the bath, wrapping herself in the bath towel and drying her body thoroughly. As she did so, waves of heat and cold ran over her persistently, and she realized that it wasn’t just thoughts of James that were causing these physical sensations. She felt chilled to the bone, and even though she wrapped herself up warmly in a thick skirt and a couple of sweaters she still felt cold.

  When she could no longer delay the inevitable, she descended the stairs and came upon Melanie in the hall. She, too, was wet, but a mackintosh prevented her from getting soaked through.

  ‘Is it still raining?’ asked Domine, sniffing, and taking out a handkerchief to wipe her nose.

  Melanie frowned. ‘Yes, it’s still raining,’ she agreed. ‘What’s up, Domine? You look terrible! What did James say to you out there on the moors?’

  Domine shook her head. The last thing she wanted was a cosy confidential talk with Melanie. ‘Nothing,’ she denied, flushing. ‘Ooh, I’m frozen. I hope there’s a good fire in the lounge.’ Although the house was centrally heated, Henry Farriday had always kept a fire in the main room.

  Melanie shrugged her shoulders. ‘Okay, keep it to yourself,’ she said resignedly. ‘I’m going for a wash. There’s nothing much to do outside in this weather. You missed breakfast. Weren’t you hungry?’

  ‘I was in the bath,’ explained Domine, shivering ‘Where—where is everybody?’

  ‘Aunt Geraldine is in the kitchen, and Signora Marcinello asked for a breakfast tray in her room. James took it up.’

  ‘I—I see.’ Domine managed a slight smile at the older girl before leaving her to enter the lounge. She was glad the room was empty, for she dragged her chair up to the fire, and warmed her hands at the flames. Obviously she had caught a chill, but compared to her emotional state it was a very paltry thing.

  Presently Mrs. Mannering came in and joined her. ‘Ah, there you are, Domine,’ she exclaimed. ‘Did you not want any breakfast?’

  Domine shook her head. ‘I was in the bath,’ she explained again.

  ‘Never mind.’ Mrs. Mannering settled herself on the couch. ‘Lucy is bringing me some coffee in a few minutes. You can share that.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Domine smiled, and resumed her contemplation of the flames.

  ‘Have you heard? Signora Marcinello wanted a tray in her room,’ remarked Mrs. Mannering, picking up the morning paper and scanning its headlines casually. ‘I refused to have anything to do with it, of course. James has taken it up to her.’

  Domine bit her lip. ‘Yes, so Melanie told me.’

  Mrs. Mannering nodded. ‘Disgraceful, isn’t it? I mean—what will the servants think?’ She shrugged her narrow shoulders. ‘You look as though you’ve caught a chill. Whatever possessed you to go riding on the moors in this awful weather?’

  ‘It wasn’t raining when we left,’ pointed out Domine quietly.

  ‘We?’ Mrs. Mannering pounced on the word. ‘Who is “we”?’

  Domine could have bitten off her tongue. ‘Er—Mr. Mannering,’ she murmured uncomfortably.

  ‘James?’ Mrs. Mannering frowned. ‘He was with you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I see.’ Mrs. Mannering folded the newspaper thoughtfully. ‘Did you have a row?’

  Domine moved awkwardly. ‘Why do you ask that?’

  ‘Because he was like a bear with a sore head at breakfast,’ replied Mrs. Mannering shortly, ‘and it wasn’t anything to do with me. What did you row about?’

  ‘Did I say we did?’

  ‘No, but it’s obvious.’ Mrs. Mannering grimaced. ‘I suppose it was to do with that Marcinello woman.’

  ‘No!’ Domine was adamant.

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Oh, it was nothing,’ exclaimed Domine uncomfortably. ‘I—I’d rather not discuss it, if you don’t mind.’

  Mrs. Mannering sighed exaggeratedly. ‘Oh, I don’t know why I bother even being polite!’ she cried impatiently. ‘Everyone seems to lead a life all their own. Have you noticed that? We’re supposed to be a family, but are we? I mean—James has no time for me, and Melanie constantly infuriates me! You’d think, when I’ve been good enough to offer her a home, she’d feel a sense of gratitude towards me, but no!’ She shook her head. ‘No one cares about me at all.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ remarked a voice behind them, and Domine felt her limbs turn to water as James came into the room. ‘Why do you persistently behave like some tragedian heroine, Mother?’ he exclaimed sardonically. ‘You know perfectly well that everyone jumps to do your bidding.’

  ‘I haven’t noticed,’ remarked Mrs. Mannering shortly. ‘Have you given Signora Marcinello her breakfast? It’s taken you long enough.’

  James ignored his mother’s sarcasm, and said: ‘Why are you huddling over the fire, Domine? Have you caught a chill?’

  Domine refused to meet his gaze. ‘I’ve just had a bath,’ she replied quietly. ‘Naturally, I felt the cold after I came out.’

  He came over to the fire, and stood with his back to it, looking down at her thoughtfully. Domine was conscious of the lean strength of his legs only inches from her fingers, and twisted her hands together to prevent a compulsive urge to touch him.

  ‘You should have remained sheltering until I returned,’ he said harshly. ‘Do you know I wasted the time going back for you?’

  Domine’s head jerked up. ‘You didn’t really expect me to wait there like some trapped rabbit?’ she flared. ‘I wanted to get back.’

  Mrs. Mannering’s eyes widened speculatively. ‘What’s all this about?’ she queried with interest. ‘Domine?’

  Domine bent her head again, and James said, pleasantly: ‘It’s nothing of any importance, Mother.’ He took out his cigarettes and offering them to his mother he went on: ‘By the way, I shall be leaving again in the morning.’

  Domine forced herself not to look up, but Mrs. Mannering sounded infuriated. ‘What do you mean? You’re going and leaving that woman here?’

  ‘Signora Marcinello will stay for some weeks, yes,’ he agreed, nodding.

  ‘But I don’t want her here!’ protested Mrs. Mannering impatiently. ‘You can’t expect us to entertain your women now, James!’

  James’s face darkened. ‘Don’t be coarse, Mother,’ he snapped coldly. ‘This is my house, and it’s my money that’s maintaining it. If I choose to bring a guest here, I expect my mother to show her a little honest decency! Contrary to your speculations, Lucia means absolutely nothing to me! Her husband was an acquaintance, that’s all.’

  Mrs. Mannering considered this. ‘And how long are you going to be away?’ She frowned. ‘Are you going to London?’

  ‘No, actually I’m not. I’m going to Rome,’ he replied briefly.

  ‘Rome?’ echoed Mrs. Mannering. ‘What for?’

  James sighed impatiently. ‘If you insist on knowing, then I’ll tell you that I’m going to sort out Lucia’s affairs for her. Giulio left everything in quite a state. Someone has to do it, and she has no one else. At least, no one she can trust.’

  Domine listened with a sinking heart. He was certainly doing as he had said, and putting plenty of miles between them. Was that why he was leaving so abruptly?

  ‘I see,’ said Mrs. Mannering now. ‘Oh, well, I suppose if you insist she stays, she stays. But I do think it’s very inconsiderate of you. Heavens, it’ll be Christmas in four weeks. Have you thought of that?’

  ‘Of course I have,’ he replied bleakly. ‘Is it so inconceivable that we should have a guest for the festive season?’

  ‘You’ll be back then?’

  ‘Of course.’ He glanced at Domine. ‘After all, it wouldn’t be fair to Domine to subject her to a Christmas alone with three women, all of whom regard each other as antagonists.’

  Domine did not respond as he had expected she might. Instead, she shrank further into her corner. He didn’t care what kind of Christmas she spent. If he came back to Grey Witches it would not be for her sake, but he could h
ardly appraise his mother of such a damning situation.

  ‘Oh, well,’ Mrs. Mannering sighed, ‘I suppose nothing I can say will change things. Domine, fetch my glasses, would you, dear? They’re on the table in the hall.’

  ‘Of course.’ Domine got to her feet, and hastened out of the room, glad of the chance to escape from James Mannering’s cold eyes, but to her surprise he followed her, and when she would have returned to the lounge, he prevented her, his fingers on her wrist.

  ‘A moment,’ he murmured softly, so that his mother should not hear. ‘Domine, I want you to put what happened this morning right out of your mind, do you understand me? I wish to God it had never happened, but it did, and I need your assurance that you’ll forget all about it!’ His eyes surveyed her thoroughly, and she felt a choking sensation in her throat.

  ‘It’s forgotten,’ she whispered coldly. ‘Now let me go!’

  ‘Domine,’ he muttered fiercely, ‘don’t make this any harder for me than it is. I want you to know I don’t make a habit of that kind of thing!’

  ‘Don’t you?’ she exclaimed softly, her eyes unnaturally bright. ‘You’re amazingly expert for an amateur—’

  ‘Domine!’ He gritted his teeth, and then she was free and Melanie was running down the stairs to join them.

  ‘Well, well,’ she remarked mockingly. ‘What’s going on? Domine, you look positively feverish! You must have caught a chill.’

  ‘I—I think I did,’ murmured Domine uncomfortably. ‘Melanie, will you give your aunt these glasses. She asked me to get them. I—I think I’ll go and take some aspirin.’

  Melanie nodded sympathetically. ‘Yes, love, you do that,’ she smiled. ‘Are you coming in, James?’

  James looked at Domine’s retreating back as she ran up the stairs, and then turned to his cousin. ‘Oh, yes, I guess so,’ he muttered bleakly, and followed her into the lounge.

  In her bedroom, Domine flung herself face down on the bed. She had never felt so utterly miserable in all her life. Her future seemed to stretch away ahead of her, bare and uninteresting, and the knowledge that James was leaving again in the morning was tearing her apart.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BY the evening of that day Domine’s cold had developed into quite a fever, but she dosed herself well and crept into bed without telling anyone. She had succeeded in avoiding everybody for the whole day, using her cold as an excuse and remaining in her room. It was a cowardly action, she realized, but she had no strength to fight her traitorous emotions right now.

  In the morning she felt too weak to crawl out of bed, and there was an awful tightness in her chest. Lily came to see how she was and expressed concern at her pale cheeks and breathlessness.

  ‘You need a doctor, miss,’ she exclaimed anxiously. ‘I’ll tell Mrs. Mannering. She’ll send for Doctor Rivers.’

  ‘No.’ Domine coughed a little. ‘I’m all right. If I stay in bed today, I’ll be fine tomorrow.’

  Lily shook her head. ‘You could be much worse tomorrow,’ she said, frowning. ‘Let me tell Mrs. Mannering. I can’t leave you like this.’

  Domine shook her head weakly. ‘No, please!’ she begged. ‘Let—let Mr. Mannering get away. I—I don’t want him to stay here because of me …’ She heaved a sigh. ‘Tell them I still have my cold, and I’m staying in my room. No one need suspect …’

  Lily tucked the covers about her and put her cool hand to Domine’s hot forehead. ‘You must be running a temperature sky-high!’ she protested.

  Domine closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Look, Lily, just let Mr. Mannering get away. Then—then you can tell Mrs. Mannering—all right?’

  Lily looked doubtful. ‘Don’t you think Mr. James ought to know, too? After all, you are his ward.’

  ‘What ought I to know, Lily?’ queried a lazy voice from the doorway, and both women started guiltily, Domine’s fingers clenching the silk coverlet convulsively. James walked slowly into the room, coming to the bed and looking down at Domine’s flushed cheeks. ‘So?’ he said quietly, ‘I was right. You do have a chill.’

  Domine moved restlessly under his gaze. ‘It’s nothing,’ she protested unhappily, aware of the steely quality of his eyes.

  Lily wrung her hands together. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come, sir,’ she exclaimed. ‘Miss Grainger ought to have a doctor, really she should. I think she’s running a temperature.’

  ‘I think so, too, Lily,’ he remarked, in agreement. ‘Can you call Dr. Rivers’ house? Do you know the number?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Then go ahead. Whatever Miss Grainger says, she does require medical attention.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,’ Lily nodded, and darted from the room while James continued to study Domine thoughtfully.

  ‘Why didn’t you want me to know?’ he asked harshly.

  Domine compressed her lips. ‘I knew you were leaving this morning. I didn’t want to—to—worry you,’ she murmured miserably.

  ‘You knew I wouldn’t go leaving you in this state,’ he muttered angrily. ‘What do you take me for? This is all my fault, and you know it!’

  Domine turned on her side away from him. ‘It’s my own fault,’ she replied resignedly. ‘If I hadn’t insisted on returning on my own yesterday, I wouldn’t have caught the cold.’

  ‘Agreed. But as it was at my insistence you were out on the moors at all, I feel entirely responsible.’ He walked away from the bed to stand at the window, looking out at the day. A wind howled round the old eaves of the building, and the rain had given way to a dampness in the air.

  Domine sighed, and rolled on to her back. There was a pain in her chest, and she wished he would go so that she could give way to a spasm of coughing that was rising inside her. She didn’t want him here, witnessing her weakness.

  Swallowing hard, she said: ‘I wish you would go.’ She brushed back her hair with a careless hand. ‘You’ve done your duty—you’ve called the doctor—now leave me alone!’

  James turned to stare at her coldly. ‘Don’t give me orders, Domine,’ he snapped. He walked away from the window, and stood at the foot of the bed. ‘But I will go—and I’ll see you later, after Doctor Rivers has been.’

  Domine nodded, and deliberately closed her eyes so that he should think she wanted to rest. With an impatient exclamation he walked to the door, and presently she heard it slam behind him. It had not been a hard slam, just a kind of controlled closing of the door that somehow went awry.

  As soon as the door closed, Domine heaved a sigh of relief, and rolling weakly out of the bed she padded across to the dressing table. She stared with displeasure at the unhealthy flush high on her cheekbones in a face that was otherwise devoid of colour. She looked terrible, and hunched her shoulders wearily. She hadn’t wanted him to see her like this, so weak and unattractive. Why couldn’t she have waited one more day before developing these symptoms? It seemed as though he was always to see her in an unattractive light. She sighed again. Not that it mattered, really. She couldn’t begin to compete with a woman like Lucia Marcinello, or Yvonne Park either, for that matter. Another fit of coughing sent her stumbling back to her bed to slide beneath the covers tiredly, tucking the covers closely round her chin. Maybe if Dr. Rivers thought her condition was not very serious James would leave today as he had planned.

  But in fact it was two weeks before James actually left. Dr. Rivers pronounced that Domine had bronchitis, and must stay in bed. He also told her in no uncertain terms that she was very lucky it had not deteriorated into pneumonia, considering the careless attitude she appeared to adopt towards her health.

  For several days Domine was too exhausted by the congestion in her chest to care what went on around her and cared little for anybody’s company. Mrs. Mannering came daily to inquire after her progress, but it was a perfunctory courtesy which she accomplished in double quick time, and Domine suspected that had James gone away as he had intended her condition would have been a matter for dispute. She had the feeling that Mrs. Man
nering considered her rather inconsiderate, falling ill like this just when she had an unexpected, and unwanted, guest and a lot of extra work to see to. But as James was there, she confined herself to sarcastic remarks that mostly Domine ignored.

  James himself was a frequent visitor, but Domine dreaded his coming. It wasn’t that he was unkind to her, indeed his attitude towards her was remarkably gentle, but somehow by its very content, their relationship was false. Maybe, she speculated cynically, he was endeavouring to resume their earlier impersonal association before their involvement had become such an aggressive thing. Even so, despite her misgivings, Domine found this new side of James’s character interested her, and certainly she learned a lot about him during these periods. He told her of the problems he faced with his writing, and the different aspects of writing for television and the theatre. Domine asked intelligent questions and presently he began to bring manuscripts for her to read, asking her opinion, listening to her tentative suggestions. While they had never been so unrestrained in one another’s company in one sense, in another the tension increased, ready to be thrust disturbingly to the surface by the merest suggestion of intimacy.