Then She Fled Me (10 page)

Adrian shut his window quietly and drew the curtains.

CHAPTER
FIVE

With
the advent of October came days of wet weather. Adrian, listening to the rain at night, felt relieved that Sarah was sleeping in the house again, and then wondered impatiently why he should care one way or the other, but she had begun to worry him in a vague, unexplained fashion. The supper trays were heavy, and she frequently forgot things, necessitating another journey to the kitchen, and once he caught her depositing a scuttle of coal and turf outside his door.

“
Can
’
t someone else do that?
”
he said, frowning down at her.

“
Well, Nolan
’
s supposed to, but he doesn
’
t like coming into the house, and Mary has the downstair rooms to see to,
”
she replied.
“
I always do Miss Dearlove
’
s, so there
’
s no reason why I shouldn
’
t do yours, too.
”

“
Well, in future, please leave the scuttle in the hall and I
’
ll fetch it myself.
”
He sounded brusque and annoyed, and she said austerely:

“
It
’
s part of the service you
’
re paying for. Lodgers don
’
t carry their own coal.
”

He picked up the scuttle and dumped it in the nursery and shut the door on her. Stubborn, exasperating little creature! He would leave at the end of the month.

Kathy did not carry coal or trays, but she made various excuses to visit him. She would ask in her soft voice if
he needed anything, or proffer the loan of a book, standing just inside his door and gazing at him with shy, enquiring eyes. It was impossible to snub her, she was too gentle, and she never stayed long, but he could see that she was eager to talk and did not understand his reluctance to discuss
music with her.

“
None of the family know anything about music, you see,
”
she told him a little wistfully.
“
And Joe—well, Joe recognizes what I play, but he doesn
’
t really
appreciate
.
”
Once she enquired about a recording of a Beethoven sonata which he had been listening to earlier in the afternoon, and, to please her, he played the record again for her.

“
That was lovely,
”
she said on a soft little sigh.
“
Who was it playing?
”

He did not immediately answer, and she took the disc off the turntable to read the label.

“
Adrian Flint,
”
she said.
“
I believe
—”
She broke off
and looked at him with wide eyes.
“
Are
you
Adrian Flint?
”
she asked slowly.
“
I never connected—I mean, we never knew your Christian name.
“
That
’
s why your face was vaguely familiar. I once heard you play in Dublin, years ago, when I was still at school. Oh, Mr. Flint, how exciting that it should turn out to be you!
”

He took the record from her and put it back in its folder with hands that shook a little. This was the very last thing he had wanted to happen and he cursed himself for the careless revelation which could so easily have been avoided.
“
It
’
s of no
great importance,
”
he replied brusquely.

“
But it is to me,
”
she said.
“
Here in the west, they
’
ve hardly even heard of Schnabel or Moiseiwitsch. You can
’
t think how exciting it is for me, not only to know a great pianist but to have one here under my own roof.
”

“
Very flattering, but quite misplaced,
”
he said in a hard voice.
“
I haven
’
t given a recital for nearly two years.
”

She looked rebuffed for a moment, then she said:

“
Of course—you
’
ve been ill. If—if you want to use our pi
a
no—to keep in practice, I mean—we can always manage it so that you won
’
t be disturbed.
”

The coldness was back in his face and he glanced at his watch with deliberation.

“
Thank you, Miss Riordan, but I won
’
t need your piano. I have other work to attend to.
”
He spoke abruptly, and Kathy, feeling herself dismissed, backed a little
un
certainly to the door.

“
Well, any time you should want the piano—
”
she said awkwardly.

He nodded and gave her a brief smile.

“
Thanks, but the matter won
’
t arise while I
’
m here. Good night.
”

She ran downstairs to tell the others. Despite Adrian
’
s chilling response, she was excited by her discovery and eager to impart the news at once.

“
What do you think?
”
she cried, bursting into the snug.
“
A. G. Flint is
the
Adrian Flint. Isn
’
t it exciting?
”

Sarah, flat on her stomach by the fire, looked up with a grin.

“
Never heard of him,
”
she said.
“
What is he? A film, star or a cat-burglar or something?
”

“
Oh,
Sarah
!
But you wouldn
’
t know, of course. He
’
s a well-known pianist. I always told you he reminded me of someone. I heard him play in Dublin years ago. I believe I
’
ve still got the program.
”

Kathy started rummaging in the old
attaché
case in which she still kept the treasures relating to her schooldays.

Danny said:
“
Cripes! I thought musicians had long hair.
”

Aunt Em remarked:
“
Well, I would never have guessed!
”

Sarah rubbed her nose and said:
“
I
thought
he really knew about music.
”

“
Here it is,
”
cried Kathy.
“
Look, you see it was the photograph that was familiar, because we sat too far away to see him very clearly.
”

They crowded round her to examine the program which bore the usual letterpress on the cover and an excellent photograph of Adrian in profile. Sarah studied it thoughtfully. He looked a good deal younger, she supposed, but there was another difference, too; the coldness in the face was not so apparent and the mouth had a certain sweetness which it entirely lacked now.

“
Was he good?
”
she asked, frowning.

“
He was marvellous. Very quiet, but with terrific power. They printed some of the notices inside. Listen! A young pianist of great ability ... a pianist with a great career before him
...
destined to take his place with the highest in his profession
...
brilliant technique
...
powerful interpretation
...’
They
’
re all the same—London, Paris, New York, Philadelphia
...”

“
Um, he must be good,
”
said Sarah.
“
Let me see the rest.
”

“
Think of us not knowing when he answered the advertisement and imagining he was a doddery old man!
”

“
Well, dear, we
’
d have been none the wiser if he
had
signed his full name,
”
pointed out Aunt Em, but she looked at Kathy with indulgent fondness. She had seldom seen her so animated.

“
I would,
”
the girl replied.
“
Miss Dearlove,
you
would have known, wouldn
’
t you?
”

“
Well, of course I
’
ve
heard
of him. One reads the notices though one doesn
’
t, always attend concerts,
”
said Miss Dearlove with the air of one who kept up with all the arts.

“
Not one of them mentions tenderness,
”
said Sarah slowly, and they turned to look at her, Kathy puzzled, her aunt with a flicker of understanding.

“
What do you mean?
”
Kathy asked.
“
I think they
’
re wonderful notices.
”

“
They all say the same thing. Power, brilliance, technical ability—one even talks about a ruthless interpretation, but not one of them mentions feeling.
”

There was a silence, then Miss Dearlove said approvingly:

“
Quite a shrewd little critic, dear child. You are so right, of course. Feeling ...
sympathy
...
one cannot rise to the heights without it. That does not surprise me at all about Mr. Flint. He is not
simpat
ic
a
—I felt it at once.
”

“
He
’
s been ill, don
’
t forget,
”
said Kathy quickly.
“
He told me he hasn
’
t given a recital for nearly two years.
”

“
I seem to remember there was something in the papers about that time,
”
Miss Dearlove said.
“
Miss Pringle would remember—she has a remarkable memory for newspaper snipp
e
ts. I must write and ask her.
”

“
Wouldn
’
t it be simpler to ask Mr. Flint?
”
enquired Aunt Em.

“
No,
”
Sarah said thoughtfully.
“
I don
’
t think it would, and anyhow it
’
s nothing to do with us.
”

But Miss Dearlove thought it had something to do with her. She waylaid Adrian at the earliest opportunity and told him archly that now they had surprised his little secret, he must, he simply must give them all a little treat one evening.

“
I
’
m sorry, Miss Dearlove, I no longer play,
”
he replied impassively.

“
Oh, dear, have I been guilty of a breach of etiquette?
”
she said playfully.
“
You artists who command such large fees ... I suppose I shouldn
’
t ask
...”

“
I gave a good many concerts for charity without fees,
”
he said equably.

“
Of course, I
remember
now. You did very go
o
d work for churches and for other charities. Was it the stra
in o
f that which caused your breakdown?
”

“No.”

“
And when do you hope to resume your career?
”

“
Miss Dearlove,
”
he replied in a biting voice,
“
I cannot conceive that I or my affairs can be of the slightest interest to you, but in case they are, I must tell you that I haven
’
t the slightest intention of discussing the subject with you or anyone else. Perhaps you will kindly make that clear to everybody.
”

“
Well
!”
said Miss Dearlove as he turned on his heel and left her, and she hurried away to find more sympathetic ears.

“
So rude!
”
she burst out to Aunt Em.
“
So
unnecessarily
rude! Success must have gone to his head, as Miss Pringle would say. He has developed a most impossible conceit of himself.
”

“
I would not have said he struck me as a conceited man,
”
Aunt Em remarked mildly.

Miss Dearlove gave her a look of contempt.

“
But then you, dear Miss Emma, are such a
self-effacing
person,
”
she said with slight acidity.
“
Personally, I think someone should correct him for his manners. It
’
s not very
pleasant
to stay in a house where one is gratuitously insulted
w
hen one makes a gesture of friendliness. I must say that I
’
ve always considered it
’
s one
’
s—er—
hostess
’
s
duty to see that her guests are happy.
”

“
I
’
m not at all reluctant to speak to Mr. Flint about his behavior,
”
said Sarah cheerfully.
“
But perhaps I should speak to you about yours first.
”

“
Well
!”
Miss Dearlove sounded affronted, and Aunt Em looked at Sarah quickly over her spectacles, then continued darning. The child was not in one of her rages and she was seldom rude.

“
It
’
s only to say that I think it would be better if you let Mr. Flint alone, Miss Dearlove,
”
Sarah went on mildly.
“
He did make it so very clear that he wanted complete solitude, and he
’
s the sort of man who wouldn
’
t suffer fools gladly.
”

“
Well
!
”
exclaimed Miss Dearlove again.
“
So you
’
re telling me to my face I
’
m a fool now, are you?
”

“
It was a figure of speech,
”
said Sarah hurriedly.
“
I meant that some people won
’
t put up with well-meaning interference. They don
’
t realize it isn
’
t only idle curiosity, so I think if you just ignore Mr. Flint in future it won
’
t be necessary for me to speak to him, if you see what I mean.
”

“
I see only too well, and I think it is probably time I made a
change.
I can always finish my time at the Miss Kellys
’
, you know,
”
said Miss Dearlove, and, very red in the face, swept out of the room.

“
Oh, dear!
”
said Sarah.,
“
Now I
’
ve made things far worse.
”

Her aunt shook her head.