Гунгун бьется о гору. Народное творчество

kissed her mother’s cheek and whirled out of the flat. Madeline walked into the kitchen. Evidences of Diana’s hasty washing-up session were to be found on the floor which was almost swimming with water. The dish-mop was soaking and causing a wet stain to trickle over the window ledge and down the tiles to the sink.

      Madeline squeezed out the dish-mop and taking the large mop she soaked up the water from the floor, wiping clean the parquet flooring. Then she put away the dishes which Diana had left on the bench, and returned to the lounge.

      She had just settled herself in front of the television when the door bell pealed.

      Lazily, she rose to her feet and padded to the door. Opening it, she found Adrian Sinclair waiting to be admitted.

      Adrian was a tall lean man in his early fifties. Twenty years older than Madeline and a bachelor, he found his secretary utterly charming and desirable and all his hitherto undisturbed feelings were being violently churned by her apparent lack of romantic interest in him. Frankly, Madeline wondered what it was about her that appealed to older men. She found Adrian intellectually stimulating but emotionally cold, and marriages were not built on intellect alone. He made no headway in any other direction with her.

      ‘Come in, Adrian,’ she said, smiling now. ‘Is it still as cold?’

      ‘Colder,’ remarked Adrian, coming in and loosening his overcoat. ‘Hmm. This is a cosy room, Madeline. I always feel at home here.’

      ‘Good. I’m pleased.’ Madeline closed the door and relieved him of his coat before following him across the room. ‘Do you want a drink before I sit down?’

      ‘Thank you. I’ll have a small whisky.’

      Adrian seated himself on the couch in front of the television where Madeline had been seated before his arrival and after pouring the drink, Madeline joined him.

      She enjoyed Adrian’s companionship and his ready humour and was glad he made no strong attempts to force their relationship into anything more. He often broached the subject of marriage, but Madeline had tried to make it plain from the outset that there could never be anything more than friendship between them.

      Adrian came to the flat as often as he was able, whether or not Diana was at home. He liked Diana and she was very fond of him. He had been Uncle Adrian since she was eleven years old and she saw no reason to change that now.

      He owned a house in Otterbury, run for him by an efficient housekeeper. The house was near the Otterbury Secondary School of which he was headmaster, and although it was large and rather gloomy for a man living alone, he liked it, and kept it well filled with a selection of objets d’art which would furnish a museum. Madeline had sometimes mused that should he ever marry and have children about the house he would be in an eternal state of anxiety about his collection.

      ‘There was an accident on the Otterbury road today,’ he remarked now, casually. ‘Two cars and a lorry collided. It was in the late paper.’

      ‘Oh! Was there?’ Madeline suppressed her own knowledge of the accident. She had no intention of telling Adrian any more than Diana about her own mishap. Like Diana, he deplored her constant use of the scooter on the busy road and would have preferred her to use public transport on those evenings when he was unable to bring her home.

      ‘Yes. Some people move too fast for safety. Most of these collisions could be avoided with a little forethought.’

      ‘Oh, I agree,’ averred Madeline, sitting down beside him, and hoping her face would not give her away. ‘The traffic from Sheridans moves pretty fast.’

      ‘It does indeed. I’ll be glad when those houses are finished beyond the factory. Then those blighters won’t have to come into Otterbury to take the London road. Most of the cars make a racetrack of that stretch outside the school. I’m eternally grateful our crowd are away before them. Can you imagine what it would be like with a swarm of cyclists leaving our gates and trying to integrate with that lot? Heaven help them!’

      Madeline accepted a cigarette from him and after they were both smoking, she said: ‘Have you ever been round the Sheridan factory?’

      ‘No. Not since it was opened. I once went over the site during the early stages of construction. It’s a terrific place. Apparently it will employ about five thousand men when it’s fully operational. They’ve brought several key workers over from Italy, of course, and from their factory near Detroit. I’ve heard that Nicholas Vitale himself has come over from Rome to make sure everything is going satisfactorily. Of course, he’s only here for a visit. He’s the big boss. His father started the business, you know. A man called Masterson is running this end. He’s an American, I believe, and he’s bought his family over. They’ve leased that house near Highnook. Ingleside, I believe it’s called.’

      ‘Yes, I know the place, Adrian. It’s enormous. Didn’t it belong to some penniless member of the aristocracy at one time?’

      ‘Yes. Old Lord Otterbury himself used to live there years ago.’ Adrian chuckled. ‘Trust Americans to install themselves in the local stately home!’

      Madeline laughed. ‘It must be nice to be free from money worries.’

      ‘My dear Madeline, you too could be free from money worries if only you would let me take care of you.’

      ‘I know, Adrian, and I appreciate it. But I just can’t see myself as a headmaster’s wife, dispensing tea and sympathy to the parents of the children. I’m not the type, I’m afraid.’

      ‘Nonsense, Madeline, you would adapt yourself easily.’ Adrian sighed. ‘Seriously though, Diana would be agreeable to your marrying me. She’s like a daughter to me already.’

      ‘I know that, Adrian. She’s a great advocate for your cause. It’s simply that – well, I enjoy my freedom, and more important still – we’re not in love with one another.’

      ‘Were you in love with Joe?’ Adrian frowned when Madeline did not answer. ‘Besides, I do love you, Madeline. Being in love is for young people. We’re adults; mature people, not teenagers hankering after the moon. Wouldn’t you like to relax sometimes and put your feet up instead of rushing out to school every morning and working all day just to rush home again in the evenings?’

      Madeline sighed. All that Adrian had said was true. Diana would be delighted if they got married. Indeed she would be very enthusiastic. She liked and respected Adrian and would enjoy the social distinction of being the headmaster’s stepdaughter. And Madeline knew how pleasant it would be to have loads of spare time to read all the books she would like to read; explore all the museums and art galleries that she enjoyed visiting; maybe even have a larger family.

      At this she drew herself up with a start. She could never resign herself again to a life like that. She was not a mercenary person at heart and the idea of marrying someone for the material benefits that were to be enjoyed appalled her. She couldn’t do it. She and Diana had managed alone this far, and in a couple of years Diana would be working and able to supply herself with the little luxuries that Madeline could not always afford.

      ‘I’m sorry, Adrian,’ she said, sighing again. ‘I couldn’t do it. Much as I like and respect you, I don’t see how we could make a go of it. You’re too set in your ways to change anyway. You would hate having a teenager in the house, upsetting your precious collection and rousing you at all hours to the sound of the latest pop group. You have no idea what it would be like.’

      ‘Nonsense,’ said Adrian once more. Then he sighed as he saw the reluctance on her face. ‘All right. Forget it. Anyway, where is Diana tonight?’

      ‘She’s gone to the Seventies Club with Jeffrey Emerson. Do you know him?’

      ‘I know of him,’ replied Adrian thoughtfully. ‘His brother is in the first year at my school, but Jeffrey goes to the Grammar, doesn’t he?’

      ‘Yes. He’s only seventeen. He has taken his Advanced Levels in G.C.E. and now he’s waiting for a place at university.’