restless.”
A shout of “Come and get it!” from the kitchen interrupted him. Knocking out his pipe in the empty hearth, he held out a hand to pull Andrea up from the floor.
“Oh, I’m stiff.” She rubbed the small of her back and stretched.
It occurred to her that this afternoon was the first time she had worked hard enough to be tired since her wedding day.
After supper Simon helped Nick fix the tiles while Jill painted a bedroom chair and Andrea bound a lampshade frame with white tape. She wondered what Justin was doing, and whether he minded her being out. Should she have telephoned and asked him to join them? Somehow she could not visualize him fitting into this working party.
Later they made coffee and sat talking until Andrea suddenly realized it was past ten o’clock. She had come in a taxi because her car was being serviced, and Simon offered to run her home in his ancient sports coupe. They discussed cars for some minutes until he said, “You know, an evening like this makes me wonder how much I’m missing. It must be a good feeling to have a place of one’s own.”
“Where do you live when you’re in England?”
“I have a service apartment.”
“Your family isn’t in London, then?”
“I have none. My parents were killed in a train smash when I was a kid. I was brought up by a bachelor uncle. We never had a great deal in common. He was a barrister and thought journalism a very raffish sort of trade. What about you? Where do you hail from?”
“The north. I haven’t a family either. I often wonder what it’s like to have a host of relatives.”
“From what I’ve seen it can be pretty trying,” Simon, said dryly. “I have a few remote relatives around the place, but the less we see of each other the better.”
“Aren’t you ever lonely?”
It was, she realized, a rather extraordinary question to ask a comparative stranger, and yet somehow she did not feel a stranger to this man.
He took so long to answer that for a moment she was afraid she had embarrassed or annoyed him.
Then he said slowly, “I suppose all human beings are lonely to some degree. I don’t think having a family or a lot of friends has much to do with it. I remember once being at a party with a crowd of people I knew well and liked, and suddenly in the middle of it all I had a strange feeling that nobody was real, that it was all a sham. Maybe I’d had too much to drink. It certainly doesn’t make much sense in words.”
Andrea watched the crimson taillights of the car ahead of them glowing in the darkness.
“Like waking up from a dream and finding yourself in a strange place,” she said softly. “You suddenly realize that all the people around you have lives of their own that will go on when the party is over. But yours has come to a standstill. You wonder why you’re living as you are and where it will end. You know you want something but you can’t tell what it is.”
It was not until she felt Simon looking at her that she knew she had spoken her thoughts aloud.
“I’m terribly sorry. I don’t usually ramble.” Confusion made her stammer slightly.
“Why be sorry? I’m glad to know someone else has felt the same way. There’ve been times when I’ ve wondered if I was a crank.”
They had reached the square, and when she pointed out the house he brought the car alongside the curb and switched off the engine. Then he climbed out and came around to the near side to help her.
“I see now why the question of carrying on your career didn’t arise. It must be a full-time job running a place this size,” he said, looking up at the house.
“Can we offer you a nightcap? I expect my husband is still up and I know he’d like to meet you.”
“Thank you, but you must be tired. Perhaps another time.”
“It was kind of you to bring me home. Good night, Mr. Brennan.”
“Good night.”
He took her outstretched hand for a moment, watched her run up the steps and turned away to his
A shout of “Come and get it!” from the kitchen interrupted him. Knocking out his pipe in the empty hearth, he held out a hand to pull Andrea up from the floor.
“Oh, I’m stiff.” She rubbed the small of her back and stretched.
It occurred to her that this afternoon was the first time she had worked hard enough to be tired since her wedding day.
After supper Simon helped Nick fix the tiles while Jill painted a bedroom chair and Andrea bound a lampshade frame with white tape. She wondered what Justin was doing, and whether he minded her being out. Should she have telephoned and asked him to join them? Somehow she could not visualize him fitting into this working party.
Later they made coffee and sat talking until Andrea suddenly realized it was past ten o’clock. She had come in a taxi because her car was being serviced, and Simon offered to run her home in his ancient sports coupe. They discussed cars for some minutes until he said, “You know, an evening like this makes me wonder how much I’m missing. It must be a good feeling to have a place of one’s own.”
“Where do you live when you’re in England?”
“I have a service apartment.”
“Your family isn’t in London, then?”
“I have none. My parents were killed in a train smash when I was a kid. I was brought up by a bachelor uncle. We never had a great deal in common. He was a barrister and thought journalism a very raffish sort of trade. What about you? Where do you hail from?”
“The north. I haven’t a family either. I often wonder what it’s like to have a host of relatives.”
“From what I’ve seen it can be pretty trying,” Simon, said dryly. “I have a few remote relatives around the place, but the less we see of each other the better.”
“Aren’t you ever lonely?”
It was, she realized, a rather extraordinary question to ask a comparative stranger, and yet somehow she did not feel a stranger to this man.
He took so long to answer that for a moment she was afraid she had embarrassed or annoyed him.
Then he said slowly, “I suppose all human beings are lonely to some degree. I don’t think having a family or a lot of friends has much to do with it. I remember once being at a party with a crowd of people I knew well and liked, and suddenly in the middle of it all I had a strange feeling that nobody was real, that it was all a sham. Maybe I’d had too much to drink. It certainly doesn’t make much sense in words.”
Andrea watched the crimson taillights of the car ahead of them glowing in the darkness.
“Like waking up from a dream and finding yourself in a strange place,” she said softly. “You suddenly realize that all the people around you have lives of their own that will go on when the party is over. But yours has come to a standstill. You wonder why you’re living as you are and where it will end. You know you want something but you can’t tell what it is.”
It was not until she felt Simon looking at her that she knew she had spoken her thoughts aloud.
“I’m terribly sorry. I don’t usually ramble.” Confusion made her stammer slightly.
“Why be sorry? I’m glad to know someone else has felt the same way. There’ve been times when I’ ve wondered if I was a crank.”
They had reached the square, and when she pointed out the house he brought the car alongside the curb and switched off the engine. Then he climbed out and came around to the near side to help her.
“I see now why the question of carrying on your career didn’t arise. It must be a full-time job running a place this size,” he said, looking up at the house.
“Can we offer you a nightcap? I expect my husband is still up and I know he’d like to meet you.”
“Thank you, but you must be tired. Perhaps another time.”
“It was kind of you to bring me home. Good night, Mr. Brennan.”
“Good night.”
He took her outstretched hand for a moment, watched her run up the steps and turned away to his
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