Lynne Pemberton – Platinum Coast (страница 19)
The smell of the meat roasting set hunger pangs gnawing at her stomach.
‘Mmm, that smells wonderful.’ She sat down heavily at the kitchen table. She would have loved a cup of tea but did not like to ask the rather formidable housekeeper to make her one.
‘Well, I make a good roast even if I say so myself.’ The housekeeper stuck out her ample chest. ‘Mr Reece-Carlton says he’s never tasted a better roast lunch anywhere.’ She continued to heap praises on her own cooking whilst vigorously beating a batter mixture for Yorkshire pudding.
‘How’s your foot?’ Dorothy enquired, but seemed indifferent to Christina’s reply.
‘A lot better, thanks.’ She looked down at her swollen ankle, which was looking more like its normal size.
‘You’ll feel a whole lot better after you’ve had my roast dinner,’ Dorothy assured her. Christina wished she would stop boasting about how good a cook she was, and just get on with it.
The housekeeper poured the batter mixture into a smoking oven-tin as Stephen came in to kneel down and survey several bottles of wine in a rack below the work-surface. He eventually pulled out a 1963 St Emilion which he opened and decanted.
‘Twenty minutes for the Yorkshires,’ Dorothy announced, and slammed the oven door tightly shut.
They ate their Yorkshire pudding separately as a starter, a custom Stephen’s mother had faithfully followed. Christina didn’t care how it was served; it tasted wonderful – light and crispy. The roast beef was done to perfection, and she had an extra helping of beef and golden roast potatoes with thick, rich gravy.
Victoria had spoken very little during the meal, much to Christina’s surprise.
They were all eating enormous portions of plum crumble and cream when Stephen said, ‘I thought your friend Caroline was coming to see you tonight?’
Victoria shook her head, and some of her hair fell into the dessert bowl. It was sticky with cream when she continued, ‘She was, but I told her not to when I knew you were coming home for the weekend. You know how Caroline always spoils things.’
The girl pulled a face, and Christina thought how well Victoria knew about spoiling things.
Stephen poured the last drops of red wine from the decanter into his and Christina’s glasses.
‘I’ve got another James Bond video I thought we could watch together.’
Victoria was looking directly at her father as she spoke, deliberately excluding Christina. She glanced over Victoria’s shoulder at a portrait of a very dark young woman. Her large grey-blue eyes stared back, heavy-lidded and mysterious.
‘Is that your wife, Stephen?’ she asked.
He turned. ‘Yes, that’s Barbara.’
‘She was very attractive,’ Christina commented.
‘She was more than attractive – she was beautiful!’ Victoria looked at the portrait then back at Christina. Her eyes were narrowed and her voice very quiet.
‘No one could replace my mother. Not ever.’
Christina held Victoria’s troubled eyes for a long time. They were both silent until Christina said, ‘I don’t think anyone would even try.’
She finished her dessert, though it stuck in her throat, and congratulated Dorothy, who seeped up the praise, a huge smile stretching from one ear to the other.
Christina hated old James Bond movies but was forced to watch
Christina was delighted when the child fell asleep halfway through the movie and Stephen carried her to bed.
‘She’s sound asleep.’ He seemed relieved when he joined her on the sofa five minutes later with two glasses of Hine.
She took the brandy goblet from his outstretched hand, saying, ‘You didn’t tell me you were leaving tomorrow?’
He took a sip of brandy and sighed heavily.
‘I’m sorry. That call from Robert Leyton last night was to confirm I had to go to Spain. I forgot to tell you after you hurt your foot.’
He raked his long fingers through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I’m afraid I have to catch the 11.30 plane from Gatwick to Malaga. We’re trying to set up a leisure park in Spain and I must meet the planners on-site first thing Monday morning. It was the only available flight. I took the liberty of booking you a flight back to Manchester fifteen minutes after mine, if that’s okay with you? I didn’t think you’d want to stay down here without me.’
‘No, thanks. With you gone, Victoria might eat me!’
‘Oh, come on, Christina. She’s not that bad.’
Christina suppressed the reply she’d have liked to have given. ‘Only joking.’ She pinched his leg. ‘This is our last opportunity to be together. Let’s stop wasting time.’
She lifted his dark-green cotton sweater and with her fingertips curled the fine hair of his stomach, which he pulled in with a sharp intake of breath. His head fell back onto the sofa as she began to undo the top button of his jeans. The zip slid down easily and Stephen moaned from deep within his throat as he felt her hand slip inside his boxer shorts. She leaned forward to kiss him – and jumped back in fright as a white figure loomed from behind the sofa.
‘Daddy, I had a horrible nightmare! I couldn’t get back to sleep; I was really afraid.’
Victoria, dressed in a long nightdress, walked round the sofa and stared at Stephen, who was frantically zipping up his jeans and pulling his sweater down.
‘What are you doing?’ She continued to stare wide-eyed. He pulled her quickly down beside him to cover his embarrassment, pushing stray hairs away from her brow and saying, ‘Nothing, baby. Now tell Daddy all about the horrible nightmare and he’ll make it better.’
Christina left Stephen and Victoria curled up on the sofa, engrossed in one another, and limped slowly to her room. She fell into bed angry and frustrated. There was no point in staying awake. She knew Stephen would never come to her while his daughter was under the same roof.
‘Your daughter is impossible, Stephen. Surely you can see she’s trying to jeopardize our relationship?’
Stephen looked across the table at Christina’s flushed face.
‘I really think you’re over-reacting, as usual.’ He sounded tired and exasperated.
‘Over-reacting? Victoria feigns illness, so you instantly cancel a weekend in Spain with me. One which I have been looking forward to very much!’
‘Keep your voice down,’ he urged. They were seated in the bar of the Midland Hotel in Manchester, and Stephen could see several people staring in their direction. He leaned forward. ‘Everyone is looking at us.’
‘I don’t care, Stephen,’ she snapped.
‘Well, I do, and as far as Victoria’s illness is concerned, Doctor Montague thinks it may be some kind of virus. Can’t risk it. What if she’s seriously ill while I’m away?’
‘Dorothy is with her. She knew about your trip to Spain a week ago. Don’t you find it too much of a coincidence that Victoria takes ill the very day you and I are due to go away for a long weekend?’
‘I’m sorry. I was looking forward to it as much as you.’ He took another sip of his drink and emptied the glass. ‘I can’t go away next weekend; it’s Vicky’s school play and I’ve promised to be there, but we can go the weekend after that, Christina.’
‘I don’t know where I’ll be in two weeks’ time. As I’ve told you a million times, I have to spend some time in Ireland. My mother is
‘Well, we can go another weekend.’ He paused. ‘Soon.’
Stephen tried to take her hand but she pulled away.
‘How about coming with me to France on Wednesday and Thursday of next week?’
He was trying desperately hard to make amends, but Christina was unforgiving.
‘I’m working, remember? I do work for a living.’
‘Who cares about some daft job for Manchester United football club? Cancel it.’ His voice was dismissive. It made her suddenly furious.
‘
He turned away from her defiant expression and waved to a passing waiter. She shook her head as the man approached their table and Stephen ordered another large gin and tonic. ‘Don’t talk to me about needing money!’ His voice had a cutting edge as he continued: ‘I’ve offered you an allowance, and a beautiful flat in your own name. But you refuse to swallow your stupid pride and continue to live in squalor with that scatty flatmate who drives you nuts! You insist on taking degrading work and struggling to pay the bills when you could live in London close to me!’
The waiter came to their table. He jumped back as Christina shouted: ‘No, no, no, Stephen! How many times do I have to tell you to stop trying to buy me?’ The waiter placed Stephen’s drink in front of him and backed away quickly.
She felt a tremor inside her when she encountered Stephen’s narrow, unblinking gaze. She had never seen him look so cold or so remote from her.
‘I’m not trying to buy you, merely trying to help you. Can’t you see that? You are so stubborn and immature sometimes, Christina.’
He made an effort to control his voice, but there was no mistaking his mounting temper.
Christina stood up. She was visibly shaking and her legs did not feel capable of taking her weight.
‘I may be both of those things but I am not stupid, nor am I blind. What I can see very clearly, Stephen, is that you want me on your terms and your terms only. Neatly tucked away in a cosy flat in London where you can come around whenever it suits you, far from any prying eyes – and of course your precious daughter!’