oneself—if you were in love, that was! Then, all you thought about, cared about, was the other person; they occupied every waking minute, a driving obsession making you want to find out everything you could about them.
It was a relief to Anna when they were summoned to lunch and she could concentrate on talking to Mr Montgomery for a while. He asked her endless questions about herself, the play, her reasons for wanting to be an actress. She felt a little as if she was in front of the Spanish Inquisition, although his voice was gentle and his smile benevolent. She could see why he had been a success in business; he had a genius for gathering detail and assimilating it.
Laird said little, but he watched and listened intently, his grey eyes hooded and unreadable.
Patti said nothing much, either, except when Anna answered one question about her family with the brief admission that she had none at all.
'Oh, Anna, I had no idea!' Patti burst out, her eyes distressed. 'I mean, I realised your parents were dead, but I didn't know you had no relatives at all.'
'You get used to it,' Anna replied tersely. When she was a child it had made her miserable, but it no longer bothered her quite so much. She had made work the centre of her life for years; work didn't fail you. It didn't die, either, nor could it hurt you.The man called Jimmy whipped away her plate a moment later as she finished the last morsel of the delicate vanilla cream. The meal had been delicious, but under Mr Montgomery's grilling Anna hadn't enjoyed it quite as much as she would have done if she hadn't been so distracted.
They took their coffee in the drawing-room, then Mr Montgomery slowly made his way back to his study, leaning on his wife's arm, and Laird stood up, too, looking at Anna.
'Let me give you a guided tour of the house—I want to show you some theatre prints I bought last year.'
Anna gave Patti a quick look. 'Coming, Patti?' The last thing she wanted was. to find herself alone with Laird.
As they were beginning to climb the wide, polished stairs, however, Mrs Montgomery came out of a room and called Patti. 'I won't keep her a moment, but we want to talk to her,' she apologised to Anna, who had halted.
'We'll start in the night nursery,' Laird told Patti as she went towards her mother. 'And work our way down from there—join us when you escape.' He grinned at his stepmother, who shook a reproachful head at him.
Anna reluctantly followed Laird up several floors. The thick carpet gave way to a more hardwearing variety, the stairs became narrow and badly lit. Laird pushed open a door on the very top floor and Anna - looked around the small, square room. It had tiny windows which shed little light, an old brass bed occupied one corner and around the room, dozens of toys—a delightful Edwardian dolls' house completely furnished and with tiny occupants frozen in chairs, at table's, even in a bath; a battered old wooden rocking horse with a red leather saddle with real stirrups; a row of bears and stuffed toys; a wooden fort with soldiers and cannon arranged around it and some dolls with fixed glass eyes and faded dresses, all shapes and sizes from a demure Victorian in poke bonnet and many petticoats to a mass-produced doll wearing red trousers and a black leather jacket.
'Oh, how lovely!' exclaimed Anna, her eyes lighting up. 'But it's rather sad, as though it was all waiting for a child . . . '
'Patti was the last, she was much kinder to her toys than 1 was—I regularly broke them.' Laird walked over to the nearest wall. 'These are the old prints—there were some here already, but I added to them.'
Anna reluctantly dragged herself away from admiring the dolls' house and joined him. The prints were very funny; one or two were after Hogarth, wickedly libellous cartoons of famous actors. She wandered around, laughing, while Laird showed her each one, but her eyes kept moving back to the toys. As they halted by the rocking horse she put a hand on
It was a relief to Anna when they were summoned to lunch and she could concentrate on talking to Mr Montgomery for a while. He asked her endless questions about herself, the play, her reasons for wanting to be an actress. She felt a little as if she was in front of the Spanish Inquisition, although his voice was gentle and his smile benevolent. She could see why he had been a success in business; he had a genius for gathering detail and assimilating it.
Laird said little, but he watched and listened intently, his grey eyes hooded and unreadable.
Patti said nothing much, either, except when Anna answered one question about her family with the brief admission that she had none at all.
'Oh, Anna, I had no idea!' Patti burst out, her eyes distressed. 'I mean, I realised your parents were dead, but I didn't know you had no relatives at all.'
'You get used to it,' Anna replied tersely. When she was a child it had made her miserable, but it no longer bothered her quite so much. She had made work the centre of her life for years; work didn't fail you. It didn't die, either, nor could it hurt you.The man called Jimmy whipped away her plate a moment later as she finished the last morsel of the delicate vanilla cream. The meal had been delicious, but under Mr Montgomery's grilling Anna hadn't enjoyed it quite as much as she would have done if she hadn't been so distracted.
They took their coffee in the drawing-room, then Mr Montgomery slowly made his way back to his study, leaning on his wife's arm, and Laird stood up, too, looking at Anna.
'Let me give you a guided tour of the house—I want to show you some theatre prints I bought last year.'
Anna gave Patti a quick look. 'Coming, Patti?' The last thing she wanted was. to find herself alone with Laird.
As they were beginning to climb the wide, polished stairs, however, Mrs Montgomery came out of a room and called Patti. 'I won't keep her a moment, but we want to talk to her,' she apologised to Anna, who had halted.
'We'll start in the night nursery,' Laird told Patti as she went towards her mother. 'And work our way down from there—join us when you escape.' He grinned at his stepmother, who shook a reproachful head at him.
Anna reluctantly followed Laird up several floors. The thick carpet gave way to a more hardwearing variety, the stairs became narrow and badly lit. Laird pushed open a door on the very top floor and Anna - looked around the small, square room. It had tiny windows which shed little light, an old brass bed occupied one corner and around the room, dozens of toys—a delightful Edwardian dolls' house completely furnished and with tiny occupants frozen in chairs, at table's, even in a bath; a battered old wooden rocking horse with a red leather saddle with real stirrups; a row of bears and stuffed toys; a wooden fort with soldiers and cannon arranged around it and some dolls with fixed glass eyes and faded dresses, all shapes and sizes from a demure Victorian in poke bonnet and many petticoats to a mass-produced doll wearing red trousers and a black leather jacket.
'Oh, how lovely!' exclaimed Anna, her eyes lighting up. 'But it's rather sad, as though it was all waiting for a child . . . '
'Patti was the last, she was much kinder to her toys than 1 was—I regularly broke them.' Laird walked over to the nearest wall. 'These are the old prints—there were some here already, but I added to them.'
Anna reluctantly dragged herself away from admiring the dolls' house and joined him. The prints were very funny; one or two were after Hogarth, wickedly libellous cartoons of famous actors. She wandered around, laughing, while Laird showed her each one, but her eyes kept moving back to the toys. As they halted by the rocking horse she put a hand on
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