of tangled emotions inside her came a tension that had to release itself somehow. So she had turned on him.
Something in his eyes told her it was the same with him. His nerves were as taut as her own, and he too had exploded irrationally.
‘I doubt if you know much about it,’ he said now, ‘or about the person behind it.’
‘I know her all right,’ she said with bitter emphasis. ‘She was so used to being a little brown mouse that she fell for the first pack of lies she was told by a man. There’s nothing else to know.’
He didn’t reply at once, but considered her for a while before saying slowly, ‘I doubt that’s true. You’ve never explored the possibilities, so try to see your face as a blank canvas on which you will write whatever you want to.’
‘Is that what your wife did?’
His mouth twisted, though whether with humour or with pain she couldn’t have said.
‘Now you mention it, yes. She wasn’t a great beauty, but she could make every man believe that she was. When she walked into a room, heads turned.’
‘And you didn’t mind?’
‘No, I-I was proud of her.’
‘But I’m not her. I could never be like that.’
‘Nobody could ever be like her. Now, let us return to business.’
His tone had become practical again, like that of a man announcing to a meeting that it was time for the next item on the agenda.
‘In this house you’ll need a decent wardrobe, so forget the kind of thing you’re used to and choose clothes that will help you fit in with…’ He made a gesture indicating the luxurious surroundings. ‘Please hurry up, I have a lot of work to get on with.’
The last of the tension was diffused. She could concentrate on the screen and even enjoy the dizzying array of delightful garments that danced before her.
‘Do the job properly,’ was his only comment as he seated himself at the other desk.
He had prepared everything efficiently, accessing the English version of the site and calling up a conversion table showing both English and continental sizes.
Her puritanical self made one last effort, pointing out remorselessly that cheap materials had always sufficed in the past. But then she told it to shut up and let her concentrate. After that it was easy.
First, casuals, blouses, sweaters, trousers, all cut with deceptive simplicity, all costing a fortune. After the first shocked glance she didn’t concern herself with prices.
Underwear. Satin panties, slips, lacy bras, in white, black, ivory. Here she tried to be a little abstemious, cutting the order down to her barest needs.
She lingered over cocktail dresses, tempted to desperation over a garment in silky chiffon, cut tight and low both back and front. She could buy it in black or deep, dark crimson.
But she wasn’t going to buy it at all, she reminded herself sternly. She was just taking a look.
Coats. Yes. Think sensible! She could justify a light summer coat. This colour. No, that one. But perhaps this one was better.
‘Get them both,’ said a bored voice passing behind her. She looked up quickly, but he was already re-seating himself at the desk.
She got them both. She was only obeying orders.
‘I’ve finished choosing,’ Holly said at last. ‘What do I do now?’
‘Leave the rest to me. Now, it’s late and you’ve had a long day. I suggest you go to bed.’
‘First I should like to see Liza, and say goodnight.’
He checked his watch.
‘She should be asleep by now, but she’s probably stayed up in the hope of seeing you. Very well. Turn left at the top of the stairs, and it’s the second door.’
‘Are you coming with me?’
There was a touch of constraint in his manner as he said, ‘I’ve already said goodnight to her.’
‘But if she’s waited up, I’m sure she’d love to see you again.’
She sensed him about to make an impatient reply. Then he gave a brief nod, as though settling something within himself, and rose to lead the way out of the room.
CHAPTER THREE
AS THEY emerged into the hall they heard the sound of argument coming from above. There was Berta’s voice, but above that was Liza’s, shrill and insistent.
‘They’re coming, I know they are.’
‘But your father has already said goodnight,’ Berta protested. ‘He’s a busy man-’
‘He’s not too busy for me, he’s not, he’s not.’
The last words shook Holly to the depths. They were a cry of desperation, as though the child was frantically trying to convince herself of something she needed to believe.
She glanced at the judge, who was standing as if frozen.
‘Perhaps this isn’t a good idea,’ he murmured.
‘On the contrary, it’s a great idea,’ she said quickly. ‘Your daughter has just proclaimed her faith in you, and when you go up those stairs she’ll know she was right, and that you’re not too busy for her.’
She waited for his face to brighten at this simple answer, but he didn’t move, and she realised that he was at a total loss. He was a judge, schooled in order, method, decisiveness. And he didn’t know what to do with his own unhappy child.
‘It’s a fantastic chance for you to make her feel better,’ she urged. ‘If only all life could be that easy. For pity’s sake, stop and think.’
In her eagerness she took his arm, realising too late that he would see this as impertinence. But he only glanced at her hand in the second before she snatched it away.
‘You’re right,’ he said.
She thought his voice sounded oddly defeated. But she must surely have imagined that.
‘Poppa,’ came Liza’s delighted shriek from above them.
He looked up, and his mouth stretched in an effortful smile as he began to climb the stairs with Holly.
‘Not so noisy, piccina,’ he said. ‘You should be asleep by now.’
‘I have to say goodnight to Holly.’
‘You’ll see plenty of her now that she is staying with us.’
Liza gave a shriek of delight and tried to do a little dance, but her bad leg got in the way, and Holly grasped her to stop her falling. Liza immediately hugged her.
‘You’re staying for ever and ever,’ she crowed.
‘No darling, not for ever. Just for a little while.’
‘But I want you to stay,’ Liza said.
‘Holly will be here for some time,’ her father put in quietly. ‘Don’t worry about that.’
Holly flashed him a look, which he met with a quiet, implacable one of his own. There was nothing she could say in front of Liza.
‘Now, come on, back to bed,’ she told the child in a rallying tone, reaching for her.
‘Poppa!’ Liza reached for him over Holly’s shoulder.
He took her hand and they all moved into the bedroom together. Holly laid her in her bed and gave her a hug. Then her father leaned down and kissed her cheek.
‘Be a good girl and go to sleep,’ he said briefly, and left the room.
Liza was still holding on to Holly’s hand. ‘Don’t go,’ she said.
Berta slipped quietly out of the room, leaving the two of them together. Now Liza snuggled down, contented. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was becoming more even. At last her fingers relaxed enough for Holly to draw her hand away, and tiptoe from the room.
