Possibly Antonia’s age, she thought, judging the hard, incisive lines of his face. Perhaps a year or so younger.
‘Do you know,’ he said slowly, ‘I almost believe you are. The question is – who looks after you?’
She was blushing again, and the disturbing thing was she didn’t really understand why.
She gave him a formal smile. ‘We really can manage now.’ She looked down rather uncertainly at Antonia. ‘I –I’m very sorry about all this,’ she ventured, then wondered vexedly why she should have said such a thing.
‘I’ll tell you one thing,’ he said softly. ‘Antonia will be a damned sight sorrier when she wakes up. She’s going to have a head like a ruptured belfry when she eventually opens her eyes, so I’d keep out of her way if I were you.’
He nodded to her and walked out of the bedroom. Rowan padded after him to the living room door, where he turned and subjected her to another of those lingering head to toe appraisals.
Then, ‘See you,’ he said lightly, and went out.
‘Not if I see you first,’ she thought as she secured the latch and shot the bolt at the top of the door. And then she realised with frank dismay that she didn’t actually mean that at all. In fact, she didn’t know quite what she did mean, and her mind seemed to be whirling in total confusion, although that could be because she had been startled out of her sleep.
She leaned against the door for a moment and took a long, steadying breath. It was then she remembered that she had never found out who he was.
She went slowly back to Antonia’s room and stood looking down at her. It was true, it was a lovely dress, and sleeping in it would do it no good at all. It was a struggle, but eventually she got Antonia out of the dress, and hung it up carefully in the wardrobe. Then she pulled the covers up over her stepmother’s half-clothed body, flushing a little as she remembered the stranger’s half-mocking offer of assistance. He was probably adept at getting women out of their dresses, whether they were conscious or unconscious, she told herself scornfully.
At least he’d had the decency to bring Antonia home, she argued with herself as she switched out the light. But then, returned a small cold voice inside her, what other course was open to him? Antonia’s condition had ruined the natural conclusion of the evening for them both.
Usually Rowan slept like a baby, but when she got back into her chilly bed, sleep was oddly elusive and she lay tossing and turning. In the end, she sat up in bed and said fiercely, ‘This is ridiculous!’ and gave her pillow an almighty thump as she did so.
She had met an attractive man; that was all that had happened. She had met others in the past, she thought, her mouth trembling into a rueful smile, and they hadn’t noticed her either. Nothing had changed, least of all herself. He was very adult, and very male with that tanned skin and those pale mocking eyes, and he had looked her over and seen what there was to see, and he had called her a child.
‘Perhaps that’s what I am.’ She squinted sightlessly through the darkness towards the window where a paler light was beginning to be perceptible through the thin curtains. ‘A case of arrested development, small breasts, chewed nails and all.’ The thought made her smile, but it did not lift her heart, and when she fell asleep she dreamed the small unpleasant dreams that cannot be recalled to mind the next day, yet hang about like an incipient headache.
The next day was Saturday, so there were no lectures, but she had to go to the library to exchange an armful of books, and there was the weekend shopping to be done. She breakfasted quickly on toast and coffee and looked round Antonia’s door to see if she wanted anything before she departed, but Antonia was still sleeping like the dead.
Rowen bought vegetables and fruit from a street stall at the corner on her way home from the library and agreed with the vendor that winter really did seem to be over at last, wriggling her shoulders in the pale warmth of the sunlight.
She felt almost cheerful as she walked in at the front door and came face to face with Fawcett, their landlord. He was making his weekly rent round, and she said smilingly, ‘Good morning. Did Mrs Winslow hear you knock? If not, I can …’
‘I have the rent,’ he said rather dourly. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that you’re leaving us. You’ve been good quiet tenants. I could hardly have wished for better.’
Rowan stared at him. She said at last, ‘I don’t quite follow—are you giving us notice?’
He looked quite shocked. ‘On the contrary, Miss Winslow. Your stepmother told me herself that you would be leaving at the end of the month.’
‘Oh, no, there must be some mistake.’ Rowan drew a long breath. She said urgently. ‘Please, Mr Fawcett, don’t advertise the flat yet. My—my stepmother hasn’t been well lately and …’
‘She certainly didn’t look very well.’ His lined face was suddenly austere with disapproval. ‘But I hardly feel there’s any mistake. Mrs Winslow handed me her notice in writing. Perhaps it’s a matter you should discuss with her rather than myself.’
Rowan was breathless by the time she reached their front door. She pushed the key into the latch and twisted it, and the door gave instantly. Antonia was on her knees at the sideboard and she looked round as Rowan marched in.
‘I’m looking for old Fawcett’s inventory,’ she said without preamble. ‘It must be around somewhere, and I’m damned if I’m leaving anything of ours for the next tenants.’
‘So it’s true.’ Rowan dropped limply into one of the chairs beside the dining table. ‘What have you done? I know it’s not Knightsbridge, but it’s clean and quiet and cheap and he doesn’t bother us.’
Antonia got up from her knees. ‘You don’t have to sing its praises to me,’ she said shortly. ‘I’m quite aware of all its dubious advantages, including the low rent. Unfortunately even that is more than we can afford just at present.’
‘Since when?’ Rowan began to feel as if the world was tottering in pieces all around her.
‘Since last night.’ Antonia came over and sat down on the opposite side of the table, facing her. She was very pale, and her eyes were narrowed as if the light was hurting them. She looked across at Rowan’s suddenly bleak face and gave a small rather malicious smile. ‘But don’t worry, sweetie, we won’t be sleeping on the Embankment just yet. We do have another hole to go to.’
‘One that we can afford?’ Rowan moved her stiff lips.
‘Rent-free, my dear, in return for services rendered. Only not, I fear, in London.’
‘Not in London?’ Rowan repeated helplessly. ‘But Antonia, I can’t leave London—you know I can’t!’
‘I had no idea you were so devoted to the place,’ Antonia retorted. ‘I always had the feeling you preferred that place in Surrey.’
‘Well, so I did,’ Rowan stared at her with sudden hope. ‘Is that where we’re going—Surrey? Oh, that won’t be too bad. I can easily …’
Antonia shook her head. ‘So sorry to disappoint you, but our destination is several hundred miles from Surrey,’ she said rather harshly. ‘We’re going to the Lake District, to a place called Ravensmere. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it and I understand it’s too small
