Anne Mather - Smokescreen

Watching the housekeeper Olivia knew a sudden sympathy for her. This could not be easy, and the veined hands holding the tray shook a little as comprehension dawned. ‘Alex?’ she mouthed, almost inaudibly. ‘Master Alex, is that you?’

He moved then, taking the tray from her and setting it carelessly on one of the elegantly polished tables that flanked the armchair where he had been sitting. Then he smiled, and Olivia’s heart took an unaccountable jolt. ‘Don’t you recognise me, Mrs Winters?’ he demanded, his tone warm and teasing, and with a broken cry, the normally reserved Mrs Winters cast herself upon him.

‘Oh, Master Alex,’ she sobbed, clutching his shoulders, and gazing up into his face with unconcealed emotion. ‘Oh, if only you’d come a week sooner!’

‘I know, I know.’ Alex allowed the housekeeper to enfold him in a convulsive embrace, but over the housekeeper’s head, his eyes were mocking Olivia. Look, he seemed to be saying, you may have had it all your own way so far, but how do you feel about it now?

‘Master Alex—that is, I mean— Alex —has just arrived from Africa, Mrs Winters,’ she exclaimed, needing to exert her authority for no other reason than to reassure herself. ‘He—I—perhaps you could prepare a room for him. And—and something to eat.’

‘You’re staying?’ Without looking at Olivia, Mrs Winters addressed herself to Alex, and after exchanging another challenging look with Olivia, he nodded.

‘It appears so,’ he conceded, with infuriating coolness. ‘Liv—Olivia—insists that it would be foolish for me to stay anywhere else.’

Olivia’s gasp of indignation went unheard beneath the housekeeper’s eager confirmation. ‘Where else would you stay?’ she exclaimed, drawing away from him with evident reluctance, and squeezing one of his hands between both of hers. ‘If Mr Gantry was still alive——’

‘But he’s not,’ Alex interrupted her firmly. ‘It’s better not to probe too deeply into old wounds, Mrs Winters. Who knows what would have happened if—if my father had still been alive?’

The housekeeper shook her head. ‘He never forgave you, you know.’

‘I know that.’

‘I think he wanted to.’

‘Do you?’ Alex looked wry. ‘You’re very tactful, Mrs Winters.’

She sighed, gazing up at him with hungry eyes, almost as if she was afraid he might suddenly disappear again without notice. ‘And you’re much too thin,’ she exclaimed, through trembling lips. ‘Where on earth have you been all these years? What have you been doing? If only you’d written!’

Alex heaved a deep breath. ‘Later, Mrs Winters,’ he assured her gently. ‘Right now, I could surely do with a bath and a change of clothes.’

‘Of course.’ Mrs Winters controlled herself and turned to Olivia now. ‘With your permission, Mrs Gantry, I’ll put Master Alex in his old room. It’s the one overlooking the stables, and I think he’d like——’

‘I know which room he used to occupy,’ Olivia interposed briefly, her eyes the only indication of her angry indignation, and Mrs Winters, too bemused by Alex’s reappearance to notice, smiled beneficently.

‘Of course you do,’ she beamed. Then she remembered the food cooling on its tray, and put an anxious hand to her throat. ‘Would you like me to tell Cook you’ll have a bit of dinner with Master Alex, instead of bothering with your omelette. I’m sure, now that you’ve got company——’

‘The omelette is just fine,’ replied Olivia crisply. ‘I suggest you inform Cook of our unexpected guest’s arrival, and she can prepare him a meal while he takes his bath. I—I shall be going straight to bed. I am rather—tired, after all.’

Mrs Winters’ eyes widened. ‘Oh, but——’ She cast a troubled look in Alex’s direction, and he, interpreting her anxiety, made an irritatingly complacent gesture.

‘Don’t worry,’ he told her cheerfully. ‘Olivia and I will have plenty of time to talk tomorrow. It’s natural that she’s feeling a little tired. Let’s face it, it’s been a long day, hasn’t it, Liv?’

Olivia moved her head from side to side in an oddly confused way. Perhaps she was tired. Perhaps she was dreaming all this. Perhaps none of it was really happening! But she knew that she wasn’t, and it was; and she was blankly aware of being outmanoeuvred at every turn.

Mrs Winters dragged her eyes away from Alex sufficiently long enough to give Olivia an encouraging smile. ‘Then I’ll go and attend to the arrangements,’ she said, in the tone that falls midway between a statement and a question. And at Olivia’s indifferent consent, she added: ‘What about your luggage, Master Alex? Is it being sent on or what?’

‘It’s outside, actually. In the car I hired,’ he declared casually, producing the keys.

‘Then would you like me to get Murdoch——’

‘Oh, no, that won’t be necessary.’ Alex pocketed the keys again. ‘I’ll get them myself.’ He glanced at Olivia for a moment, and then went on: ‘But perhaps you could arrange with the hire company to have the car collected tomorrow. I suppose while I’m here, you could lend me a car, couldn’t you, Olivia?’

Olivia made another gesture which could have been acquiescence, and Mrs Winters’s smile reappeared. ‘Very well, then, I’ll leave you for the moment.’ She shook her head. ‘Wait till Murdoch hears about this! He’ll never believe it.’

‘Oh, I’m sure he will,’ Alex remarked in a low tone, as the housekeeper closed the door again behind her, and Olivia’s resentment erupted into blazing anger.

‘How dare you?’ she demanded. ‘How dare you? I did not insist that you stayed here, and as for lending you a car——’

‘Yes?’ His eyes were narrowed and wary.

‘Oh—it’s ludicrous!’ Olivia thrust her hands forward, as if to ward off a physical presence. ‘Whatever my feelings, you’ve inveigled your way in here—which reminds me: how did you get in? The gates are electrically operated, and we have a very efficient security system.’

‘You forget, I used to live here,’ Alex retorted blandly. ‘And before you tell me the guard on the gate couldn’t possibly remember me, I know. But it’s amazing what the production of a passport will do, particularly when I explained how sorry I was not to have got here sooner. A son’s grief still means something, Liv, even to hard-bitten security guards.’

Olivia pursed her lips. ‘I don’t believe you’re sorry at all. I think you timed your arrival perfectly!’

‘Oh, Mother ! How can you say that?’

His words mocked hers, and Olivia felt a helpless sense of impotence. Almost without volition, she was being backed further and further into a corner, and although she didn’t want to fight him, he was making it impossible for her not to do so. What did he want? Why had he come here? And how long would he stay, if she did not make a stand?

With another bemused shake of her head, she moved then, intent on reaching the door and the comparative privacy of the hall beyond. But he moved too, stepping deliberately into her path, and she looked up at him angrily, incensed by his arrogance.

‘Do you mind?’ she exclaimed, her breathing quickening in concert with her emotions. ‘I think we’ve said enough for one day, don’t you? You’re here—and thanks to Mrs Winters, you’ve acquired a certain respectability. But don’t expect me to applaud your methods, because I won’t. I don’t know what your intentions are, but let me remind you, I am the mistress here, and don’t you forget it!’

‘Oh, I don’t.’ But he was mocking her again, his thin lips curling lazily as he surveyed her obvious frustration. ‘You’re the one who seems in danger of forgetting it. I mean, is this any way to treat a long-lost son?’