Bond of Fate (2 page)

One more move up the line, and Melanie was the next to go in. She had no fears of an asterisk being put against her name; it was more likely to be scrubbed out, and this thought certainly steadied her nerves. Either way, she had nothing to lose, she told herself stoutly, as the girl in front of her came out and it was her turn.

When she walked into the room she found herself facing a desk, behind which sat a man who barely glanced at her before asking her in a well-modulated, polite voice to sit down. He asked her her name, which he carefully wrote down below other names on the sheet in front of him. Melanie's eyes went to the sheet,

and she was slightly disappointed to note that there were no secret signs against the other names, although there was nothing to stop the interviewer having a second list somewhere, she mused.

At this point, she became aware that the man was studying her, and had probably been doing so while she was off on her flights of fancy. She felt annoyed with herself for not attending to the matter in hand.

`Why did you answer this advertisement, Miss Greensmith?' he asked quietly.

Slightly surprised, Melanie said bluntly, 'Because I need a job.'

His grey eyes went straight to the right sleeve of her windcheater. 'You're at college?' he asked.

Melanie blinked. 'I've just graduated,' she replied. `Of course I would prefer a teaching job, but as things are ' she gave a light shrug; there was no need to finish the sentence.

The man gave her another hard look, and Melanie could tell nothing from his expression. 'I can see no objection to a teacher filling the post,' he said thoughtfully. 'You do realise that travel is involved, don't you?' he added.

`Yes,' Melanie replied, her pansy-blue eyes meeting the grey inscrutable ones. 'I've got a passport.'

`What about your people?' asked the man. 'Won't they mind your taking off into the blue, as it were?'

Melanie's mind floated inevitably back to the Eastern potentate. Perhaps they weren't fussy, she thought, and wondered if it would be wise to tell the truth. Girls of no immediate family were more likely to find themselves in trouble than those that had.

Her frank look at the man sitting opposite her while she debated on her reply triggered of a tired, somewhat aggrieved response from him.

`I do assure you, Miss Greensmith, that I have a good reason for asking these questions. If you have family ties, or a young man who would object to your taking up employment which may result in a lot of travel abroad at short notice, then now is the time to say so.'

There was something about the weary way that he had made that last statement that made Melanie decide to tell the truth. 'I have no immediate relations,' she said firmly. 'I haven't a young man, either. I do have an aunt who wants me to stay with her until I find employment.' As she said this, a picture of Arthur Makin's fat features and thick lips leering at her came to mind, and it was all that she
could do to suppress a shiver. B
ut there are reasons why I don't want to take her up on her offer,' she ended lamely.

Had Melanie known how much of her feelings had shown in her eyes as she had spoken she would have been most embarrassed, but as she had no idea of the perceptiveness of the man interviewing her, she was able to relax in ignorance.

The man was silent for a moment or so, then said quietly, 'I see.'

Melanie then waited for the inevitable, 'I'll let you know,' and gathered up her shoulder bag that was lying across her knees in preparation for leaving, but she had a surprise coming.

`How soon can you start?' he asked abruptly. Melanie blinked at him. 'You mean, I've got the job?' she asked incredulously.

The man relaxed his rather harsh features for a moment and said mildly, 'I should have thought that that was obvious.'

I
—well, as soon as you like,' Melanie got out

breathlessly.

`Where are you staying at the moment?' asked the man.

`At the college, although I shall have to leave tomorrow,' replied Melanie, her mind still in a whirl.

`No reason why you shouldn't leave today then, is there?' he enquired. 'Or have you arranged for some sort of farewell do?'

Melanie didn't consider spending an evening in the local pub listening to Jane and Chris billing and cooing all evening as a particularly unmissable celebration. 'Well, not exactly,' she said. 'I sort of half promised my room-mate that I might join her and her fiancé for a drink.'

`But you're not all that keen,' he said drily, correctly interpreting Melanie's thoughts on the matter. `So, in that case, I suggest you go back to the college and pack your luggage. I'll provide the transport, and then take you to Oaklands to meet my daughter,' he said abruptly.

Melanie sat in a daze, and saw the man lift the receiver of the telephone on the desk and say, 'Cridell here. Will you please inform the rest of the applicants that the post has been filled. Oh, and thank them for attending.'

In the midst of her daze, Melanie realised that this was the first time that she had known her new employer's name. It didn't mean anything to her, but it would have done if she had been acquainted with the ranks of high finance, for Julian Cridell was a very successful stockbroker, who commanded the respect of the City in no small degree.

The first intimation of the kind of circles she was entering came on sight of the imposing car that Julian Cridell ushered her into. He gave instructions to the

chauffeur to carry his passenger to the college, leaving Melanie to give precise directions as to the location, and told the man, whom he called Jenks, to pick him up after the errand, when they would be returning home.

Jane was out when Melanie got back to the college and, going to their room, she sat down and scrawled a quick letter to her explaining that she had been lucky enough to get a living-in job, and would write a longer letter to be forwarded to hei by the college when she had settled in.

It was like a dream, and even as she wrote to Jane, Melanie could hardly believe that all this was actually happening. But one glance out of her window and down to the forecourt of the college, where a big, imposing car sat awaiting her reappearance, confirmed that it was true and that she was not dreaming.

She didn't have to spend much time gathering the rest of her things together, for she had already packed most of her belongings in readiness for her departure the next morning, and she was soon being assisted by the kindly Jenks who relieved her of her luggage the minute she appeared.

Only when the smooth car swept out of the college gates did it occur to Melanie that she could have changed into more presentable clothes, for she did own a nice lightweight jersey wool suit of a deep rust that suited her colouring. It wasn't new, but it always looked fresh. She hadn't been able to afford much in the way of clothes, so what she did have had to last a long time, and was chosen with this in mind. But that suit had stayed nicely packed at the bottom of her case, and what with writing to Jane and making sure that she had everything, clothes had been the last thing on her mind. Considering that she hadn't really

come out of her dream state, it wasn't really surprising.

Soon they were back at the Savoy, and Mr Cridell, complete with briefcase, stood waiting to be picked up. Then they were off to Oaklands, wherever that was, but at this stage reaction was setting in in Melanie's mind, and she was doing her best to quell a rush of panic. She didn't know where she was going. No one knew where she was. She had calmly accepted this stranger who sat beside her on the well-upholstered interior of the car and who was whisking her off to goodness knew what destination, and again she wondered if she had been wise to tell him her circumstances.

She cast a quick, apprehensive glance at the silent man beside her who seemed lost in a world of his own, his strong, well-moulded features gazing out at the passing scenery. He was an exceedingly handsome man, Melanie conceded, making herself stay calm while her mind kept trying to present her with scary notions of what she might be letting herself in for. Panic got no one anywhere; she despised any show of emotional hysteria in women, and she certainly wasn't about to become hysterical now.

So she concentrated on the man beside her. At least, he would be handsome if his features weren't so hard. Perhaps it was his eyes, she thought, recalling their grey, steely colour, and the no-nonsense set of his mouth. She wondered what he would be like when he smiled, if he ever did.

As this thought entered her mind. Melanie felt a spurt of surprise. She hadn't realised that she had made such a complete study of the man at the time. She had been so bowled over by the ensuing events that her impression of him had been pushed to the

back of her thoughts.

By the road signs, Melanie saw that they were heading out of London and towards Guildford, and she wished that the silent man beside her would talk to her, if only to quell her uneasiness. But she could sense that he was tired, and when she recalled the bevy of women that he had interviewed that afternoon, she wasn't surprised. She did wonder if he had had enough when it came to her turn and had decided to plump for the next applicant, no matter what!

At last they reached journey's end; after skirting along country lanes the car swept into a long drive bordered with rhododendrons. The entrance proclaimed that this was private property; it was marked by two huge stone pillars that flanked wide ornamental gates.

When the house appeared in view, Melanie's eyes widened, for it was more in the nature of a small mansion, and looked so respectable that she almost gave a sigh of relief. She hadn't known what to expect, but there was something so comforting in that old stone structure that any thought of malpractice was a slur on its authenticity.

As the car came to a smooth halt below the stone steps that led to the entrance of the house. Mr Cridell broke his silence and spoke to Melanie.

`I expect you'd like to get settled in first. You can meet my daughter at dinner, which we usually have around six-thirty.'

This was said as they got out of the car, and Melanie gave a nod of thanks at this thoughtful kindness on his part, for it allowed her a good hour to get her breath back.

As they entered the spacious hall, a plump, rosy-faced woman in a neat navy-blue dress stood waiting

for her employer's orders, casting a quick, not uncurious look at Melanie, and then back at Jenks who was carrying her luggage.

`This is Miss Greensmith, Mrs Soames,' said Julian Cridell. 'Put her in the blue room, will you. Where's Celia?' he queried.

`Down by the lake, if I'm any judge,' replied Mrs Soames, with a twinkle in her eyes. 'She thought she saw that pike yesterday.'

`I suppose I'd better check on my fishing gear,' Julian Cridell said with a hint of amusement in his voice, then frowned, as if he had forgotten something. `Oh, could you let Miss Greensmith have some tea? No doubt she'll be glad of some refreshment.'

Melanie was whisked away up an imposing stairway carpeted in deep maroon, along a corridor to the right of the staircase, and through a short gallery hung with interesting-looking portraits. Another turn to the right brought her finally to her destination as Mrs Soames opened a door to let Jenks go ahead of them with the luggage.

`I'll send you a tray up,' promised Mrs Soames and, casting a last, almost proprietorial look around the room to assure herself that all was in order, she left.

Melanie, now blissfully alone, wandered around her domain. A small bathroom adjoined the bedroom that had once, she presumed, been a dressing-room, for the house was very old, and such refinements wouldn't have existed in the original building.

The bedroom was large and airy and, as its name proclaimed, its predominating colours were blues of different hues, all softly intermingling, making Melanie feel that she had landed in Wonderland. From her unpromising start that morning, when she

had sat in the café wondering how on earth she was going to find work and somewhere to live in the space of a week, she had not only landed a job but living-in quarters as well, in surroundings of a luxury that she had never before experienced.

As she unpacked her few belongings, her mind, now gradually settling down to the salient fact that she was now employed, lingered on the child she had been engaged to look after, and she wondered what she would be like. A small cloud appeared on her blue horizon as it occurred to her that she might well be one of those awful brats who made life almost impossible for their luckless guardians—and perhaps there had been a steady flow of them in the past!

The more she thought of this likelihood, the more certain she became that this was the case. Mrs Soames, apart from showing a natural curiosity at her appearance, didn't seem in any way put out, which she wouldn't if it was a regular occurrence, a natural turnover of staff in that particular employment. They were probably taking bets below stairs right at this moment on how long she would last the course !

Melanie wandered to the window, and gazed out on immaculate lawns flanked by flower borders, and beyond that to woodland. She was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, she told herself firmly in an attempt to quell these unsettling thoughts, but nevertheless, she did have a little niggling feeling that it was all a little too good to be true, and there must be a catch in it somewhere.