and then to stay out of his way until her world tilted the right way up again.
To stay out of his way proved surprisingly easy. She was in the habit of serving his dinner in the dining room. Whether he thought that since their `engagement' she might take it upon herself to eat there with him, she did not know, but he surfaced in the early evening and came to the kitchen to tell her coolly, `I'll have dinner in the study.'
She nodded. If he wanted to work all night that was his business. `Thanks for the sandwich,' she said, making her voice deliberately off-hand. As if she wanted to eat at the same dining room table, for goodness' sake!
Varnie went to bed that night feeling restless and totally out of tune with her world. She could not rid herself of the notion that as she wanted to keep her distance from Leon, so he too wanted to keep his distance from her. Well, it was working. She had hardly seen him! When she had gone to deliver his meal tray and then to collect his used dishes they had barely exchanged two words.
She was up early the next morning, with the notion pushing and pushing at her that Leon would probably be leaving any time now. Most peculiarly, that notion, that would at one time have seen her leaping with joy, strangely did nothing to lift her spirits that Monday.
She showered used now to her shower throwing a temperamental fit halfway through and dressed and went down to the kitchen, feeling a total mixture of unsettled emotions. Leon had scared her yesterday-and yet she couldn't think that it was the way he had come to her bedroom and all that had followed that was responsible for how she was feeling.
For once she was first in the kitchen, and she tried not to look at Leon when he came in for his first coffee of the day. She did not wish him good morning, and he did not appear to notice. But she found she had to look at him. He looks tired, she found herself thinking as, cup in hand, he went from the kitchen. And for no reason because she was sure she didn't care if he worked every hour of every day on this, his 'holiday'-she discovered that she worried about him.
And that annoyed her. He was a grown man, for goodness' sake. If he wanted to spend his holiday working, that was up to him. Why on earth should that bother her?
But bother her it did. So much so that when, determined he was not going to have breakfast in his study too, she went and told him breakfast was ready, and he joined her in the kitchen, she found she was blurting out before she could stop it, `You should get out more!'
He looked at her-silent, watching, maybe calculating why she thought anything that he did was anything to do with her. `Jack's a dull boy?' he enquired, after long unsmiling moments of just looking at her.
She heartily wished she had kept her mouth shut. `It's not good for you-working all the hours you do!' she said bluntly.
`This advice is all part of your skivvying service?' he enquired, equally bluntly. Her face flamed. `You can work till you drop for all, I care!' she snapped, and, already having had enough of him-and the day had barely begun yet-she took herself off upstairs to do some tidying up.
She did hate him. But it did not last. By lunchtime she was again all out of tune, feeling very much mixed up-and rebellious. She had been here over a week now-ten days, in fact. And, while she was no stranger to hard work, and when the occasion demanded it no stranger to excessive work hours either, even skivvies thank you, Beaumont, for the reminder-were allowed time off.
Afraid her feelings of mutiny might be as brief as her feelings of hate, Varnie took a sandwich in to him and, having had to wait a minute while he finished some business phone call, the moment he put down the phone she launched in with, `I've decided not to cook tonight.'
He stared, unspeaking, at her. Clearly he was waiting for more. And at that moment she
To stay out of his way proved surprisingly easy. She was in the habit of serving his dinner in the dining room. Whether he thought that since their `engagement' she might take it upon herself to eat there with him, she did not know, but he surfaced in the early evening and came to the kitchen to tell her coolly, `I'll have dinner in the study.'
She nodded. If he wanted to work all night that was his business. `Thanks for the sandwich,' she said, making her voice deliberately off-hand. As if she wanted to eat at the same dining room table, for goodness' sake!
Varnie went to bed that night feeling restless and totally out of tune with her world. She could not rid herself of the notion that as she wanted to keep her distance from Leon, so he too wanted to keep his distance from her. Well, it was working. She had hardly seen him! When she had gone to deliver his meal tray and then to collect his used dishes they had barely exchanged two words.
She was up early the next morning, with the notion pushing and pushing at her that Leon would probably be leaving any time now. Most peculiarly, that notion, that would at one time have seen her leaping with joy, strangely did nothing to lift her spirits that Monday.
She showered used now to her shower throwing a temperamental fit halfway through and dressed and went down to the kitchen, feeling a total mixture of unsettled emotions. Leon had scared her yesterday-and yet she couldn't think that it was the way he had come to her bedroom and all that had followed that was responsible for how she was feeling.
For once she was first in the kitchen, and she tried not to look at Leon when he came in for his first coffee of the day. She did not wish him good morning, and he did not appear to notice. But she found she had to look at him. He looks tired, she found herself thinking as, cup in hand, he went from the kitchen. And for no reason because she was sure she didn't care if he worked every hour of every day on this, his 'holiday'-she discovered that she worried about him.
And that annoyed her. He was a grown man, for goodness' sake. If he wanted to spend his holiday working, that was up to him. Why on earth should that bother her?
But bother her it did. So much so that when, determined he was not going to have breakfast in his study too, she went and told him breakfast was ready, and he joined her in the kitchen, she found she was blurting out before she could stop it, `You should get out more!'
He looked at her-silent, watching, maybe calculating why she thought anything that he did was anything to do with her. `Jack's a dull boy?' he enquired, after long unsmiling moments of just looking at her.
She heartily wished she had kept her mouth shut. `It's not good for you-working all the hours you do!' she said bluntly.
`This advice is all part of your skivvying service?' he enquired, equally bluntly. Her face flamed. `You can work till you drop for all, I care!' she snapped, and, already having had enough of him-and the day had barely begun yet-she took herself off upstairs to do some tidying up.
She did hate him. But it did not last. By lunchtime she was again all out of tune, feeling very much mixed up-and rebellious. She had been here over a week now-ten days, in fact. And, while she was no stranger to hard work, and when the occasion demanded it no stranger to excessive work hours either, even skivvies thank you, Beaumont, for the reminder-were allowed time off.
Afraid her feelings of mutiny might be as brief as her feelings of hate, Varnie took a sandwich in to him and, having had to wait a minute while he finished some business phone call, the moment he put down the phone she launched in with, `I've decided not to cook tonight.'
He stared, unspeaking, at her. Clearly he was waiting for more. And at that moment she
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