A Summer Storm Page 7

  Sarah sighed, and curled up on the bed, fixing Oriel with a penetrating gaze that reminded her of Blaize. ‘I can’t read.’ I

  ‘Oh. Does it hurt?’

  A sudden giggle transformed the carefully blank expression. ‘No, don’t be silly, of course it doesn’t, but I have to learn how to soon, ’cause I’m backward.’

  ‘Who said that?’ Oriel was swept by a wave of cold anger.

  ‘My gran told my grandad. And she said my gov’ness told her. I need specialist attention. What’s backward? And what’s attention?’

  ‘Attention is what I’m giving you, listening to someone carefully, and backward means that you need a little more attention than other children.’

  Sarah sighed. "Cause I’m dumb. I’m in the bottom group at school.’

  ‘You don’t sound dumb to me,’ Oriel said cautiously, ‘and I should know, because I’m a teacher.’

  ‘Are you?’ Sarah eyed her warily, before asking. ‘Do you like being a teacher?’

  ‘Very much. Mostly, anyway.’

  ‘What don’t you like about it?’

  Blaize answered from the door. ‘Children who don't stop asking questions. Come on, Sarah, your dinner’s ready.’

  Racing across the room, she lifted a rapturous little face to him. ‘Can’t I have it with you?’

  ‘Not tonight.’ He touched her check with a gentle hand. ‘Early to bed this evening; tomorrow you’ll be able to stay up a little later.’

  Her bottom lip thrust out. ‘It’s not fair! Simon’s staying up tonight, why can’t I? You never let me-’

  ‘That’s enough.’

  There was just enough sharpness ‘in the injunction to stop the whining outburst, not so much that it upset an already tired child. Oriel applauded his tactics silently as he smiled teasingly down at his niece, unsurprised when an answering smile glimmered in the large eyes, magically banishing the sulkiness.

  ‘Oh, all right,’ she said offhandedly, tucking her small paw in his. ‘Promise to come up and read me a story?’

  He contrived to look offended. ‘Do I ever miss?’

  ‘Sometimes you’re not there, and anyway, Gran says I’m too old for that now.’

  Oriel’s eyes met Blaize’s. For a moment the polished pewter was pierced by anger, until he said in a non-committal voice, ‘Well, I’m here tonight, and I don't think you’re too old for it.’

  Sarah smiled worshipfully up at him. ‘Simon doesn’t either. He tucked me up while I was there.’ Remembering her manners, she turned and said politely, ‘It was nice to meet you, Oriel.’ She skipped through the door and off down the stairs.

  Blaize turned a detached gaze on Oriel. ‘You seem to get on like a house on fire.’

  ‘She's a dear little girl.’

  He nodded. ‘I think so. Come on down and meet Simon.’ His eyes fell to her foot. ‘Do you want me to carry you?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, it’s all right.’

  He insisted on accompanying her down the stairs, and although he watched her closely enough to bring the fugitive colour to her cheeks, she couldn't rid herself of the suspicion that the quick, clever brain was busy with plans and schemes in which she didn’t figure at all.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SIMON was a tall boy with his sister’s blue eyes, hands and feet that seemed too large for him, and a pleasant smile, although he looked a little surprised at his first glimpse of Oriel. No doubt, she thought cynically, she was not the sort of woman he was accustomed to seeing with Blaize.

  He had charming manners, however, and a hint of the lazy smile that his uncle used so successfully, and within a few minutes she decided she liked him very much. She lost her normal air of slight reserve, and with a skill that was partly taught but mostly inborn set herself to easing his diffidence, while Blaize looked on with avuncular, but faintly derisive, satisfaction.

  That evening set the tone for the days that followed. Sarah attached herself to Oriel, spending long hours talking to her or playing with the litter of kittens that lived in the corner of the garage, while Simon enjoyed himself swimming and water-skiing, diving and fishing and exploring, often with Blaize, but also with the family of the farm manager-a son and two daughters who were a match for both boys.

  Kathy, beginning to organise the party at the end of the holidays, shooed Oriel outside when she asked if she could help. ‘The greatest help you can give me,’ she said with a meaning nod at Sarah, ‘is to keep that one busy and out of my kitchen.’

  So they spent a lot of time together. There could hardly have been a greater contrast than between the cheerful, extroverted boy and his sister, who betrayed her insecurity in almost every remark she made.

  Oriel understood Sarah’s deep-rooted fears, the whining and clinging that sometimes marked her behaviour, her frightened dependence on her brother and her uncle. From the few remarks she made about her father’s parents it seemed that they were older and stiffer, with outdated ideas of child-rearing and an emphasis on stiff upper lips that discounted the little girl’s grief.

  Oriel’s too tender heart ached for her, especially on the days when she was left behind, staring morosely as the deep-sea fishing boat took her brother and uncle out to the fishing grounds.

  ‘It’s not fair!’ she wailed. ‘Uncle Blaize is mean! Why can’t I go with them? I could take a pill like I do when I go in the plane.’

  ‘And then you’d be too dozy to enjoy yourself, love.’

  ‘Yes, but Simon can do anything he likes, and I have to stay here all the time. It’s not fair!’

  Oriel slanted an amused glance at her. After a moment the petulant little face relaxed. ‘You talk with your eyes,’ Sarah accused, but she was smiling. ‘How do you do that? Uncle Blaize talks with his eyes too. I want to talk with my eyes.’

  Yes, Blaize certainly spoke with his eyes. And perhaps his most infuriating communication was the cool, bland irony that she so often met now. Aloud, Oriel said, ‘You do, sweetheart. Everyone does.’

  Sarah found this idea interesting, and spent some time conveying messages with her eyes for Oriel to decode. However, too soon she relapsed back into crossness.

  ‘I’m bored,’ she announced, kicking at the leg of her chair. ‘Aren’t you bored too, Oriel?’

  Bored? No, she wasn't bored. Just a little flat. And the silly, shameful reason for that was that as well as being avuncular to the children, Blaize was acting like an uncle to her too. Small shivers still ran across her skin when she saw him, when he gave her one of his lazy smiles, but clearly her presence no longer affected him in the least.

  If it ever had. Perhaps he had just pretended... Or perhaps he had not intended to expose as much of his character as he had with those last frightening revelations. Would she ever forget the note in his voice when he told her what he was doing to the man who had killed his sister? She shivered. She had sensed that he was formidable, but not that he was truly dangerous. Sophisticated and enigmatic, almost too handsome to be taken seriously, beneath that worldly exterior was a merciless strength and a controlled, uncompromising instinct for revenge.

  ‘Are you bored, Oriel?’ Sarah persisted.

  ‘No. I’m enjoying a lovely, lazy holiday in superb weather with a friend I like very much. I’m not bored.’

  Sarah sighed. ‘Not even just a tiny little bit? Wouldn’t you like to get up and walk around?’

  ‘Yes, but if I do my foot swells up and gets sore again, so it’s not worth it.’ A

  ‘You’re lucky, you can read.’ Sarah’s eyes lingered on the book that lay closed on Oriel’s slim lap. ‘Could you teach me to read, Oriel? Now?’

  Carefully Oriel replied, ‘If you really want to learn, and really want to work, yes.’

  Too many rebuffs, too much disillusion, rendered the sun-kissed little face cautious. Sighing, Sarah looked up into Oriel’s eyes. ‘I do want to read, more than anything in the whole world, so Simon and Uncle Blaize can be proud of me.’

  ‘Darling, they lo
ve you very much,’ Oriel said gently.

  ‘I know, but I want them to be proud of me.’

  ‘I’m sure they’re very proud of you.’

  But Sarah knew better. ‘They’ll be proud of me when I read,’ she said. ‘Will you teach me, Oriel?’

  There could be only one reply to this. Crossing her fingers behind her back, Oriel said confidently, ‘Yes, of course. Go and get me one of your story-books, love, one that you like, and a pencil and some paper.’

  By now convinced that Sarah was definitely not backward, Oriel knew she had very little time to find out what exactly was causing the block, and she hoped fervently that she would be able to help the child.

  When Sarah reappeared she came across the lawn with a set look on her small face that upset Oriel more than anything she had seen before. The child looked hopeless, beaten before she started.

  However, after half an hour Oriel was feeling much more confident. It now seemed almost certain that most of Sarah’s trouble was psychological, her conviction that she was backward being the main cause of her difficulties. Oriel thought dark thoughts of grandparents who spoke out of turn. And somewhere along the way the child had missed out on any grounding in phonics.

  It was on this lack that Oriel based her plan. A knowledge of phonics would not automatically produce a reader, but it would give the child confidence and a method of attack she could use when confronted with a new word. Above all, Oriel knew, she would have to rebuild the confidence that had been lost.

  They worked until lunchtime, and again for a couple of hours in the afternoon, but when Sarah began making mistakes Oriel said firmly, ‘Right, that’s it. You’re too tired.’

  Sarah protested, ‘But I want to learn some more.’

  ‘I’m tired, and hot, and thirsty, which means you are too. When people get tired they start to make mistakes. Too much is as bad as too little, my friend. Do you think you could give me a hand up the steps to the terrace? My foot’s aching a little. Then we can have a swim.’

  Sarah was sympathetic, but she was not one to give in immediately. Even as she put a hand to help Oriel up she persisted, ‘Can we do some more after dinner?’

  Oriel smiled, smoothing the flyaway hair from the flushed little brow. ‘No, love, we can’t. The men will be back then, and didn’t you say you want to keep it a secret?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I forgot. It’s easier when you teach me, Oriel. Us’ly I feel sick when I have to read and I can’t do it, and the teacher’s words all get mixed up. Miss Kaye used to get mad with me when I made mistakes and say I didn’t try, but I did. Everything just all mixed up together. You don’t growl when I make mistakes, and I don’t make so many.’

  She gave Oriel a swift, fervent hug and was off, no doubt to confide her secret to the kittens. Oriel watched her with darkened eyes, deciding to talk to Blaize about specialist help for his niece.

  After dinner Simon went off to brag to his new-found friends about the marlin he had caught and tagged, and for the first time in days Oriel found herself sitting out alone on the terrace beside Blaize. It was a glorious night, warm and heavily scented with frangipani and gardenia and the heavy musk of the Queen of the Night. Overhead the stars blazed fiercely, while in the cast a luminous sky presaged a moonrise later. Oriel listened to the hush of the waves, as sensuous as the rustle of silk about white limbs, and the call of the more pork from one of the bush-clad headlands.

  ‘I hear you're teaching Sarah how to read.’

  She turned a surprised face to the dark silhouette of the man in the chair beside her. ‘Who told you?’

  His teeth flashed momentarily in the starshine. ‘Sarah, of course, in strictest confidence.’

  Her laughter was muted. ‘So much for secrecy!’

  ‘She’s not noted for keeping secrets.’ His voice hardened. ‘Do you think you can do it?’

  Her shoulders moved a little uneasily. ‘I think so. Oh, not to read properly, but I can give some sort of grounding and help build her confidence. That’s her main problem.’ Without condemnation she told him of the grandparents’ overheard conversation.

  ‘Their son was their only child, and so Simon is the only grandson. He has always been quick and bright, a handsome, winning child. I’m afraid Sarah wasn’t accepted for her own loving little self. They wanted another Simon.’

  ‘It happens,’ she agreed, thinking of her mother, who would have been much happier with a bright, handsome son.

  ‘I know. It made no difference to Sue, but Jim was disappointed in Sarah’s progress. Simon taught himself to read when he was four; he was fluent before he went to school. When it became obvious that Sarah wasn’t going to do the same, it was commented on.’

  ‘Did your sister try to teach her how to read?’

  ‘I think she did. How did you know?’

  ‘Guessed,’ she sighed. ‘Poor little Sarah-the more she failed the harder it was for her to believe that she could do it. It happens. Teachers do their best, but with big classes they can only do so much.’

  ‘She went to a private school. And to a specialist who was supposed to help her.’

  ‘Thereby reinforcing her conviction that she was a failure.’

  His voice very hard, he said, ‘And if you fail it will further reinforce it.’

  Oriel braced herself. ‘I won’t fail,’ she said with the utmost conviction. ‘She’s taken a fancy to me, which is half the battle. And she’s ready to learn now. She asked me to teach her. Also, this is about as far removed from a school as any place could be.’

  ‘She hasn’t been to school for the last term. She was so shattered by her parents’ death that she was unable to cope with a normal classroom, so I’ve kept her at home with a governess, who didn’t seem to be able to get through to her at all. Are you sure you can do it?’

  She didn’t blame him for the disbelief in his tone, but she knew she was a good teacher, and she trusted her instincts where Sarah was concerned. ‘Not so she’s fluent, no, but I can give her confidence, get her to the stage where she can see results. If you get a sympathetic teacher to build on that, she’ll catch up with her peer group. She’s as bright as a button, and she’d not dyslexic, which worried me a little. I think she’s recovering from the shock of her parents’ death and is ready. I happened to be near at the appropriate moment when she made the decision for herself.’

  ‘I see.’ He was silent for a few seconds before commanding, ‘Tell me how you plan to deal with her.’

  She explained, her voice assured and calmly confident. He listened attentively, occasionally asking an intelligent question, accepting her answers, clearly respecting her expertise.

  ‘So you think she’s made a breakthrough?’

  ‘I hope so. Which reminds me, I’ve made a short list of books I could use with her. When someone goes into town next, could they get them?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  She nodded and got to her feet, aware of the under-currents that had run deep and threatening all through the conversation, even when they had been talking of Sarah. Now that she had slipped out of her professional persona she could feel his attention like a lick of fire across her skin. I

  From the depths of his chair he said,‘ ‘You obviously like her.’

  ‘Yes, she’s a nice kid. Very affectionate, but with enough ginger to liven her up and a surprising amount of will-power. She’ll be all right.’

  ‘Do you realise that she wants you to be her new governess?’

  Astonishment held her silent. Then she smiled rather sadly. ‘I suppose it was inevitable. Never mind, she’ll get over it.’

  ‘Not that governess is really an apt description of the job,’ he said as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘Sarah needs stability and love. The last governess was efficient, but she wasn’t able to engage Sarah’s affections.’ His voice was level and expressionless, but it was clear that he had not liked the last governess.

  Oriel sat down again, conscious of the dull throb of her foot. B
ending, she loosened the bandage. Her eyes had adjusted to the starshine and she could see his face, angular and bold, Viking-strong in the night. An odd little frisson snaked down her spine, similar to awareness yet subtly different, with an undertone of foreboding.

  ‘Then you’ll have to let her choose the next one herself,’ she said in her soft, pleasant voice.

  Again that lazy smile. ‘I "think she already has,’ he pointed out calmly.

  Sheer astonishment robbed her of words. At last she stammered, ‘M-me? Oh, no, I couldn’t!’

  ‘Why not?’ He was inexorable. ‘She needs someone she’s fond of, who will like her. She needs reassurance. I’ll pay a respectable wage, better than you can get teaching, and you’ll travel too. You might even be able to get back to Fiji-I have interests there.’

  ‘It sounds marvellous,’ she said quietly, her stupid heart breaking, breaking, breaking. For of course this was why he had been so charming, so pleasant-and lately, so aloof. He wanted someone to look after his niece.

  ‘Then take it.’

  ‘I can’t.’ Wildly she searched for an excuse to soften the blunt, refusal. ‘I can’t let my headmistress down. She probably won’t be able to find a replacement.’

  He laughed, cynicism personified. ‘Your headmistress has a relieving teacher who is prepared to take your position for the rest of the year.’

  ‘But-how-?’ She stopped, dragging a hand through her hair. For a moment her thought processes jammed, then were galvanised into action by outrage and hurt. ‘You have no right to go behind my back!’ she flashed. ‘How dare you treat me like a puppet, to be manipulated into doing what you want? You have a damned nerve, but fortunately I don’t have to put up with it!’

  He rose from the chair with the leashed power and menace of a predator intent on blood, holding her still by the simple expedient of clamping his hands on her shoulders. She staggered, and had to grasp his wrists to steady herself.

  ‘What a temper!’ he marvelled, not at all intimidated.

  ‘No, you can’t storm off in a huff, Oriel, not unless you want to come a cropper. Sit down and be sensible.’