Shadow Of Desire. Sara Craven

where? Feeling sick, Ginny thought she could probably guess. He’d gone over to Lanyon Manor to complain about his housekeeper and insist on her replacement. She turned dejectedly away and went downstairs again.

      Moving like an automaton, she tidied the kitchen and put his washed dishes away. Then she lit the fire in the study and ran a duster and a carpet sweeper round the room. As she worked, her mind buzzed like a bee trapped behind glass, and with the same desperation.

      So it all had to begin again—the weary search for a roof over their heads, for a job with enough money to keep them all. And this time she had no idea even where to start. She supposed dully she would receive a certain amount of notice, or perhaps even money in lieu of notice, if Max Hendrick was really keen to be rid of her as soon as possible. She wondered what kind of reference she would receive, if any. She could not claim to have made a conspicuous success in the job, after all.

      She gathered her cleaning materials together and went across the passage into the drawing room. The pale spring sunlight was flooding in through the tall windows, making pools of brightness on the polished floor and the faded Persian carpet. Ginny put the carpet sweeper down and looked around her. She had always liked this room with its spaciousness barely diminished by the big old-fashioned furniture. She walked rather listlessly over to the window to adjust the long brocade curtains, once a rich gold, she thought, but now a uniform beige, and saw that the car had returned.

      She thought, ‘But I didn’t hear him come in. How odd,’ and realised almost at once that it was not odd at all. That she had not heard him because he had not returned to his own part of the house.

      She thought furiously, ‘If he upsets Aunt Mary or Tim …’ then threw down her duster and ran out into the hall, and down the passage to the oak door. She could hear the murmur of voices from the kitchen, Tim’s voice high with excitement, and Max Hendrick’s deeper tones mingling with Aunt Mary’s.

      Anger rose in her like a hot tide. She flung open the kitchen door and marched in. The room was warm and full of the aroma of freshly ground coffee. Max Hendrick was sitting at the big table in the centre of the room, very much at his ease, Ginny noticed furiously. Perhaps he felt he had the run of the house, including their part of it, she thought. Well, he would soon find out he was mistaken. She might only have a short time left to live there, but at least she would insist on some privacy for the duration.

      ‘Oh, there you are, dear,’ Aunt Mary said placidly. ‘Mr Hendrick was just asking where you’d got to.’

      ‘Really?’ Ginny made no effort to conceal the hostility in her voice, and saw Max Hendrick’s mouth twist slightly as he studied her. ‘I was just beginning to wonder the same thing about Mr Hendrick. You do realise, do you, that our part of the house is supposed to be self-contained? It isn’t an extension of your accommodation.’

      ‘Ginevra!’ Aunt Mary gasped, spilling some of the freshly brewed coffee on to the scrubbed surface of the table in her agitation.

      Max Hendrick said coolly ‘I apologise for my intrusion on your private domain, Miss Clayton, but I wanted to talk to you fairly urgently. And as we’re going to share the house, I thought it would be a good opportunity to introduce myself to the rest of your family.’

      Ginny felt embarrassed blood pouring into her cheeks as he added drily, ‘Your great-aunt was kind enough to offer me some coffee. I didn’t demand it, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

      Ginny subsided abruptly into a chair on the opposite side of the table, fully aware that Tim, who should have been doing his homework, was absorbing the little drama open-mouthed.

      She said, more sharply than she intended, ‘You can’t possibly concentrate on your maths if we’re going to talk, Tim. Take your books up to your room, please.’

      When the door had closed behind Tim’s lagging figure, Max Hendrick said pleasantly, ‘Are you always so dismissive with him? He’ll be growing up soon, you know.’

      ‘Yes, I do know, thank you,’ she said stonily. ‘Actually he’s still quite a little boy in many ways. He had a lot of bad dreams after—after the accident, but they seem to have subsided since we came here. I—I don’t want him to hear anything which might upset him, and start the nightmares off again.’

      Max Hendrick said bitingly, ‘I’m not an ogre, and I don’t make a habit of going round deliberately upsetting children—even those of your age.’ He stood up, swallowing down the coffee that remained in his cup. ‘I came here this morning because I had a proposition to put to you. I’ve outlined it to your aunt, so she can give you the details. I’d like an answer as soon as possible, please.’ He gave her a curt nod and turned away towards the door with Aunt Mary, clearly distressed, in attendance.

      Ginny sipped her coffee, but it tasted oddly bitter and she pushed the cup away with a slight grimace as Aunt Mary came back.

      ‘My dear child, whatever possessed you to be so abominably rude?’

      Ginny sighed. ‘I suppose I was rude, but I couldn’t help it. I just don’t like him. He’s so cold and hard and arrogant. In fact, I can hardly believe that he’s Toby’s cousin. There’s not even a family resemblance.’

      ‘Ah, yes, Toby,’ Aunt Mary said vaguely. ‘So surprising that he never mentioned … but there. I’m sorry you dislike Mr Hendrick so much, Ginevra. I found him quite charming.’

      Ginny forced a smile. ‘He doesn’t bother to waste his charm on me, Aunt Mary. Our aversion is quite mutual, I promise you. What is this proposition he has for me? A housekeeping job in the Shetland Islands?’

      ‘On the contrary.’ Aunt Mary sat down at the table and poured herself some more coffee. ‘Apparently you mentioned last night that you propose to supplement your income with some part-time typing.’

      ‘Did I?’ Ginny racked her brain to remember. Other things returned with appalling clarity, but not that particular incident.

      ‘Apparently, yes.’ Her aunt’s tone was dry. ‘It seems Mr Hendrick needs the services of a secretary himself, and he came here this morning to offer you the job.’

      Ginny sat very still, as if she had been frozen. Then she shook her head very slowly. ‘It can’t be true,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t want me to work for him. He said so last night. I was sure he’d gone to the Manor this morning to tell Mrs Lanyon that he was giving me notice.’

      ‘He went to the Manor to hire a horse so that he can ride each morning while he’s here,’ Aunt Mary said briskly. ‘And he clearly has no intention of giving you notice.’

      ‘No,’ Ginny said numbly. She still found it difficult to credit what she had been told. She had been sure—so sure that Max Hendrick didn’t want her working for him in any capacity. And now he was offering her the chance to become his secretary. She thought of the modern efficiency of the big typewriter which sat like an alien in the panelled study. She thought of having to share that room with Max Hendrick, of transcribing the notes and letters he dictated to her under his watchful gaze. She gave a slight shiver.

      ‘His offer is a real blessing,’ Aunt Mary said happily. ‘It couldn’t have come at a better time either. The first quarter’s bills will soon be arriving, and there’s Tim’s trip to consider.’

      ‘Trip?’ Ginny queried, trying to make herself think coherently.

      ‘Yes, dear. A school visit to France at the beginning of the summer holidays. He deliberately didn’t mention it to you because he knew how little money there was even for essentials, but nearly all his classmates will be going, and I thought that if I contributed towards the cost as well, perhaps we would be able to send him.’

      ‘But I don’t want to work for Max Hendrick,’ Ginny burst out, dismayed. ‘I told you, Aunt Mary, I don’t like the man. If I take this job I’ll have to see him every day. I’ll have no choice—unless he uses a dictaphone, and I haven’t seen one around.’ She broke off despairingly, seeing Aunt Mary’s lips tighten in incomprehension and disapproval.