I’m Joel Sinclair. I live about eight miles away from here.’
‘And you need someone to look after your son. Surely a fully trained nanny would be better? And your wife…’
He was shaking his head.
‘I’ve made up my mind that you’ll be ideal. What’s your name?’
Hesitantly, hardly daring to believe that the day might after all have have some benefit for her, Amber told him.
‘Amber? Because of your eyes, of course.’
She blinked at him, surprised that he had noticed. Rob had been going out with her for over a month before he had made the connection.
‘Mr Sinclair, are you sure? About this job, I mean?’ she asked formally. ‘You aren’t just…’ she fumbled for the right words, hating the thought that he might have offered her the job on impulse because of some misguided feeling of pity.
‘Sorry for you?’ His face hardened. ‘When you get to know me better you’ll learn that there isn’t room in my life for such unnecessary emotions.’
‘Well, hadn’t I better meet your son before we settle anything? I mean, he might not…’ She was glancing down at her leg, and she saw that he too was looking at the frail limb.
‘Oh, he’ll like you all right,’ came the response. ‘So, do I take it you’re prepared to accept the job?’
A tiny frown touched Amber’s forehead. He seemed to be treating the whole affair far too lightly. After all, what did he know about her, apart from what she had told him? What did she know about him, come to that? She moistened her lips, darting a quick glance up at him, dismayed to find him watching her with sardonic amusement.
‘It all seems so… so unconventional. I mean, you’ve just met me and you offer me the job of taking care of your son without asking for references, without…’
‘I know all I want to know,’ he told her, cutting her short, ‘In fact, Amber Douglas, you’re something in the nature of a gift from the gods.’ His laughter shocked and hurt her, although she tried to conceal it. Rob had thought her a gift from the gods once, but not in the same terms as Joel Sinclair, who only saw in her twisted leg a flaw which would probably make her pathetically grateful for his offer of a job.
‘But we haven’t discussed terms,’ she said uneasily. ‘A contract…’
‘Don’t worry,’ he told her suavely, ‘you’ll have a contract; and you’ll be well paid. Now, are you interested, or shall I drive across the bridge so that you can escape on the train that’s due in any moment now?’
Well paid! Amber knew that he hadn’t missed her expression of indecision. Goodness knows, she needed all the money she could get her hands on, and presumably she’d be living all found. She wanted to ask him exactly what he would be prepared to pay her, but pride—and the look in his eyes—prevented her.
She took a deep breath.
‘I’m interested.’
‘Good.’ He switched on the engine. ‘In that case, I’ll take you up to Lake Fyne now, so that you can meet Paul first-hand.’
She thought about the long journey back to Birmingham, the cold, inhospitable room waiting for her, and then darted a glance at the man sitting beside her.
‘Any objections?’
Without giving herself time to think she shook her head, feeling the powerful surge of the engine as the car pulled swiftly away, and the darkness swallowed them up.
Joel Sinclair had told her that he lived eight miles from the village, but it might as well have been eighty for all the sense of direction Amber experienced on the drive. Mist swirled all around them; the odd sheep materialising in the powerful headlights as they swept the grey blankness of the road, and the now frost-rimed hillsides stretching uproads from the tarmac.
Lake Fyne! She couldn’t remember ever hearing the name before, but then she knew that the Lake District possessed many small lakes whose names were not universally known, and she assumed this must be one of them.
The road curled upwards, a pale grey ribbon, disappearing into the mist.
Sitting on the edge of her seat, gripping the expensive hide cover, Amber was unaware of the fear in her eyes, until Joel turned towards her mockingly, commanding her to relax, telling her there was nothing to fear.
What did he know? she demanded inwardly in a flash of irritation. He had never had to face people with her disability to see the expression in their eyes. She had yet to be accepted by his son and his wife. She could just picture her; a man like him would demand sophistication and elegance in the woman who bore his name; she would be blonde, almost undoubtedly; expensively dressed, an ex-model perhaps, who would raise her eyebrows pityingly when she saw the stray waif her husband had brought home.
They came to an abrupt halt. The mist lifted momentarily and Amber had a brief glimpse of moonlight on water—Lake Fyne?—and then they were driving through huge wrought iron gates which had opened as though at some magic command from Joel to allow the car to move smoothly down a gravel drive towards, the grey granite house slowly materialising ahead of them out of the mist.
Joel, stopped the car. The silence was almost uncanny, heavy, and somehow waiting. There were no lights from the house, and Amber presumed that there must be rooms overlooking the back, where no doubt his wife eagerly awaited his return.
He climbed out of the car, and for one awful moment Amber thought he intended to leave her, but even as she moved frantically towards her door, he was opening it, assisting her to alight, his fingers hard and warm beneath her elbow.
Gravel crunched underfoot. The house was huge, Victorian and austere, and Amber shivered as she waited for Joel to unlock the door.
‘Housekeeper’s night off,’ he told her with heavy irony as the door swung open and he ushered her into a large but cold hall. He saw her shiver and told her, ‘Mrs Downs is Lakeland born and bred and thinks central heating should be kept only for the depths of winter.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s too late for you to see Paul tonight, he’ll be asleep, so I’ll show you to a room, and then in the morning…’
‘But surely your wife will want…’ Amber began, only to be silenced by the look of grim mockery she saw on his face.
‘Ah yes, my wife. Well, you see, my dear Amber, I no longer have a wife, which is why I need you—to take her place.’
The room reeled. Amber placed her hands to her head, telling herself that she was leaping to absurd conclusions.
‘You mean you need someone to look after Paul full time because you don’t have a wife? she said hesitantly, her heart starting to sink when saw him dislodge himself from the wall upon which he had been leaning and come towards her, his hands on her shoulders as he pulled her forward into the harsh overhead light of the hall.
‘What I mean, Amber,’ he said slowly and coolly, ‘is that I need a wife. Not just any wife, but you.’
‘You must be mad!’
He seemed amused rather than affronted.
