Robyn Donald – Iceberg (4 page)

'I don't want to hear it.' It was a lie, however. She did want to know, but not from this man who seemed to enjoy

the prospect of raking up an old scandal. 'I could quite easily tell Bronwyn, you know.'

'You won't.’

His conviction surprised her so that she turned a startled face to him.

'You have integrity. I recognise it, because I haven't got it. Justin has it too, but he can't see it in you because

you look like Alison, and because he believes Bronwyn.'

'I—I look Like------?'

'Yes. Saw it instantly. So did he, apparently. That's one of the reasons why he froze you to splinters. Alison had

that red hair, a bit more coppery than yours, but it was cut the same, short and wispy. And her eyes were greenhazel, not pure gold, but you share that milky skin and the dark brows and lashes.'

He got up, wandered across and refilled his glass, leaving Linnet astounded, yet somehow not so surprised after

all. A deep conviction had told her that Justin Doyle did not dislike her only because he believed her greedily

demanding half of Bronwyn's inheritance. But how he must have hated the wife who had died so unhappily!

Over his shoulder Stewart Doyle said, 'She was tall, too, and walked like a cat, delicate movements with that

same awkward-grace. Only she didn't have a generous mouth like yours, and you look strong and honest. She

wasn't.'

'You loved her,’ Linnet said softly."

A sudden movement spilt some of the liquid from his glass. Cursing, he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his

hand, and the floor, before sinking into the chair, raising his glass to her in a mock toast.

'Clever, too. Alison was stupid. Yes, I loved her—oh, not the love of a; lifetime, just a boy's crush, but it hurt.

She had a way of laughing as if she alone could see an exquisite joke—it used to drive me mad. Justin fell for

her in a big way. He was twenty-three, and he wanted her. I think she knew that she wasn't for him, but he was

always a masterful man and she wanted his money. Him too, to a certain extent. He had a kind of fascination for

her.'

Linnet didn't want to hear any more. This man was too perceptive, saw too much in spite of his weaknesses—

or perhaps, because; of them, and she didn't want to be made to relive old sorrows or suffer with others. Her

own pain, because of her propensity, was almost too much for her to bear.

'Don't tell me any more,' she said crisply, springing to her feet. 'I don't want to hear; none of it's my business.'

She made to" walk across to the window, but he caught -her hand and kept her still, his expression sardonic. He

was not drunk, but he had had more .than was good for him, yet there was a keen intelligence in the glance he

directed at her and his grip on her wrist was strong.

'Why do you
do
this to yourself?' she demanded impatiently.

'Want to try and reform me?' he asked, laughing.

He was still laughing when Bronwyn and Justin Doyle came into the room. Linnet met the searing contempt in

Justin's glance, felt a heat in her cheeks which made her angry and with a swift jerk of her wrist freed herself.

'Oh;
Stewart!'
Bronwyn's voice was delicately scornful. 'Trust you to come bothering Linnet the moment my

back is turned!'

He grinned, apparently unperturbed.

'Darling Bron, I wasn't bothering her at
all,
merely filling her in on a few details. She's rather a darling, isn't

she?’

'I'll take you home,’ Justin Doyle said curtly; after that first piercing scrutiny he had not looked anywhere but at

his cousin.

Stewart shook his head. 'No, thanks. I'm happy here.’

'On your feet.'

The words were spoken softly, almost without expression, but they jerked Stewart Doyle upright as if he were

on wires and Linnet felt a ripple of naked fear. Suddenly the idea that Alison Doyle had killed herself rather

than go on living with this man did not seem so unbelievable at all.

After they had left Bronwyn asked sharply, 'What was that drunk doing here?'

‘Just talking.' Linnet had rather liked Stewart, but one took at her sister's tight expression was enough to make it

clear that now was no time to say so.

'Don't let him in if he comes again. He's a damned nuisance.' The older girl picked up his glass and with a

gesture as foreign as it was unexpected, hurled the contents through the open window. 'He makes me sick,' she

said curtly, 'wasting his life.'

'He doesn't seem terribly happy.'

Bronwyn gave her a cold stare. 'He's had all of the advantages. Justin has bailed him out of trouble time and

time again, and all he does in return is drift and run up debts.'

Another aspect of Justin Doyle's character. He must have some of the normal affections, or he wouldn't help

Stewart. Then remembering the icy menace of that command, Linnet wondered if perhaps he merely hated the

thought of one of his name being hauled through the courts. Yes, that was more like it.

A yawn split her face. Everything suddenly caught up with her, rendering her limp and boneless, so tired that

she could barely lift her feet.

'You'd better go to bed,' Bronwyn told her, her voice level and without expression. 'Your eyes are burning holes

in your face. Goodnight.'

'Goodnight'

Sleep came swiftly even "in the strange bed. When Linnet woke the next morning the flat was eerily silent. A

note on the table told her why.

'I leave at 7.30,' Bronwyn had written. 'Help yourself to food. Have you any money? If not, ten dollars in the

back pages of telephone directory. Go-to shops and get tomatoes, vegetables and soap powder. B.'

Short and to the point. Peremptory, even. But atleast she wouldn't feel quite so much that she was trespassing on

Bronwyn
's
hospitality if she did a few messages for her.

It was a warm morning, the sun high enough in the sky to tell her that she had slept late. Trying to work out

whether daylight saving made it earlier or later than the sun suggested, she squeezed yellow-orange tangeloes

for juice, poached the last egg and made toast, discovering from her perusal of the pantry that Bronwyn seemed

to live on gourmet foods like tinned artichoke hearts or plain cottage cheese. Nothing in between. No doubt she

ate sparingly to keep that wonderful figure, and used the exotics to whip up meals for guests. But surely she ate

more than cottage cheese.

The butter from the refrigerator was rock-hard, bat it melted immediately. Linnet wiped a drip from the cotton

housecoat with a cloth, deciding act to change into clothes until after she had eaten. Jennifer had loathed

'slopping around' as she called it, so it added a sinful edge of pleasure to the morning to be still in her housecoat.

As she ate with her customary excellent appetite she allowed her eyes to roam, wondering why Bronwyn had

not cared to express any of her personality in this place. It was as bare of character as any motel room neat,

clean, quite lacking in individuality; It was odd, for Bronwyn was creative and had style; perhaps Stewart Doyle

was right when he said that she thought of the flat as a mere fill-in until she married Justin.

The thought of Justin gave her a cold shudder. Pushing the memory of his presence in the flat last night from

her mind, she carried her dishes to the sink, poured a cup of coffee and sat herself down again at the small table

in the window which caught the morning sun. It was cooler than it had been the day before, but the sun blazed

cheerfully in, gilding the small patch of grass outside, warming the colours of the Sweet Williams and alyssums

and irises in a bed along the wall which separated; the flat from next door.

The radio surprised her with the call of a bird; a riroriro or little grey warbler, so the announcer told her. It was

an amusing way to announce the news and the time, and as Linnet had recognised it she began to feel more at

home in the country of her birth. The coffee was delicious, the pleasant scent of it stronger by far than that from

several roses in a .vase on the breakfast bar.

It was unfortunate for her peace of mind that the bell should ring. With a harassed glance at her housecoat and

the thought that if people were going to make a habit of catching
her
is undress she would have to climb into

clothes first thing in the morning, she went across and without opening called out, 'Who is it?’

‘Justin Doyle.'

'Wait a-moment, I'll------'

'I can't wait,’ he interrupted curtly, I’m in a hurry.'

Well, the housecoat was not in the least transparent. Shrugging, she opened the door, hoping that her too

expressive countenance didn't reveal the emotions he aroused in her.

'Come in,' she invited politely, leading the way into the sitting room. 'I'm afraid Bronwyn's already at work.'

'I know. It's you I want to see.'

'Oh.' For the life of her she could think of nothing more sensible to say and he was not helping in the least,

looking at her as if she was something rather nasty from under a stone. 'Would you like to sit down?'

‘I won't be here for long.' He walked across to the window, stood with his back to it so that she couldn't really

see his features and went on crisply, 'Exactly how long do you plan to stay here?'

Equally crisply she returned, 'Until I find a job and board.'

'I see. Then I can offer you a position in the office of my firm.'

Faintly, quite convinced that she had misheard, she asked, 'What did you say?'

'There's a position in the office of my firm in the city. It's yours if you want it.'

For some reason she became extremely angry. 'No, thank you,' she told him with a frigid courtesy which

matched his. 'I've already applied for a post as a librarian. I have no skills which would make me a suitable

applicant for a job in an office.'

There was a moment of silence before he said without expression, 'I see. At least you're honest. Where is the

library job, then?'

'You really don't need to worry yourself about me,' she replied, smoothly, hating him for his superior attitude. 'I

don't intend to be an imposition on Bronwyn for any longer than I can help.'

'You knew that you would be an imposition,'
he
said with harsh distinctness. 'If you have any finer feelings at

all you would never have come here to put such a strain on her. Family feeling is something she possesses to a

foolish degree, but you have none, or it would have prevented you from trying to deprive her of an inheritance

which is rightfully hers. No doubt your mother "taught you to be greedy, but surely you possess enough finer

emotions to see what an intolerable position you've put Bronwyn in!"

If he had not spoken of her mother Linnet would have retained her hold on her temper. But to hear that Jennifer,

who had had to be so careful and economical all these years, categorised as greedy brought the blood to her

cheeks and a red mist of fury before her eyes.’

'You have no right to malign my mother,' she retorted tightly, but with extreme formality. 'You've never met her

and you know nothing about her. Until you do I suggest that you keep your cynical observations about her to

yourself. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get changed. You can be quite sure that as soon as I can, I'll be

gone. And,' with a look which should have dropped him in his tracks, 'you obviously feel that Bronwyn's

concerns are of interest to you. Please believe me when I say that my affairs are my own. I'll thank you for no

interference, even if it's well meant. I can do without your particular brand of arrogance!'

It was probably the longest speech of her life; it was certainly the most stilted, each platitude delivered with a

scorching anger which rendered it vibrant with sincerity. If he had insulted her she would hot have cared in the

least, but to impute such mean motives to .her gentle, laughing mother was more than she could bear.

Buoyed up by anger she waited for him to go, clenched hands pushed deep into the pockets of the housecoat,

her gaze molten gold on the darkness of his features.

He moved so that the light fell on his face. Linnet had thought that she cared nothing for him; she realised, now

that he had the power to frighten her as well as anger.

A strange kick in her stomach told of her fear, but she met his icy glare with a brave attempt at composure,

refused to back down or be intimidated by the implacable hostility she saw in his features, the cruelty of his

mouth.

When he spoke his voice was soft, yet there was no hint of weakness there. He was angry, and compared to his

anger hers had been like a flash fire, searing but soon over. His would be stow to fade, if ever it did; she had

.made an enemy for life, perhaps.

‘'You've been very frank,' he said, almost with indifference. 'I'll be the same. If you upset Bronwyn in any way,

I'll make you pay for it—ten times over.’

A cold sweat touched Linnet's temples, but she refused to give way to it. 'Thank you for the warning,' she

retorted flippantly. 'I doubt if you've the means, but go on thinking that you can, if it gives your ego a boost.

Now, having worked off your spleen, would you like to go? I've got things to do too. I'll tell Bronwyn you

called.'

For a moment she nearly ran, for he came towards her with that noiseless tread of his, purpose strong in his

expression.

Her nerve held Without flinching she endured his approach, jutted her chin as he lifted it so that he could

scrutinize her pale face with its wide cheekbones and small, round determined chin. Thankful that her long