“You are tired,” he said. “Let us go.”
She accepted gratefully, and pulling her sable cloak round her, they went, leaving the restaurant by a different door, so that Char did not see them depart. And yet Mona was uneasy. She felt there was something relentless, something inevitable about Char as far as she was concerned. Would she ever be able to shake her off?
The next morning she had sailed for Buenos Aires – a year there and then New York. Her fears were forgotten. It was a long time since she had thought of Char until this moment when, like a bombshell, she had found her letter waiting in the hall. Mona had a longing to throw it straight into the fire unopened, and yet she knew how useless such an action would be. If Char wanted to see her, she couldn’t escape as easily as that. Slowly she drew the letter from its envelope. She looked first at the signature in the wild hope that she had been mistaken, but there it was,
‘Yours always affectionately, Char.’
With a sigh she began to read.
It was only as she read the words ‘My dear Mon’” that she turned back and looked at the envelope. Yes, it was addressed to Lady Carsdale. So Char knew her right name! Again Mona started the letter.
‘My dear Mona,
I hear you are back in England. Welcome home and you are lucky in that you have one to go to.
I am here in London and feeling rather blue. I suppose you wouldn’t be an angel and put me up for a few days? I know what an imposition this is in wartime, so of course I will be only too willing to ‘pay my way’, as they say. If you can’t manage the extra bed what about the local pub?
Let me know soon, as it would be lovely to see you again, and anyway I shall be in that part of the world, as I have a friend who is running one of the aeroplane factories near Bedford.
Yours always affectionately, Char.’
To anyone reading the letter casually, it would have seemed pleasant enough, but to Mona, Char made her intentions very obvious. Reading between the lines she knew that Char said,
“I am coming either to the Priory or the local pub, and it’s no use trying to put me off because I shall come into the neighbourhood and then fasten myself upon you.”
‘What am I to do?’ she wondered desperately and knew there was no hope of reprieve, Char would attain her object.
‘How Mummy will hate her!’ was her next reaction as she went in search of Mrs. Vale.
Her mother was writing letters and looked up smiling as Mona came into the room.
“Did you have a nice time with Michael?” she asked.
“Yes,” Mona replied briefly, her thoughts concentrated on the letter she held in her hand.
“Mummy,” she said tentatively, “there’s a woman who wants to come here and stay. I knew her when I was in Cairo.”
“Well, I think we can manage it,” Mrs. Vale said. “It would be nice for you to see one of your old friends again.”
“She isn’t really a friend. I don’t like her, but it is rather difficult to refuse. Look, you can read the letter.”
She handed it to her mother, who read it through and passed it back.
“Of course you must have her, dear. Drop her a line and ask her to come on Thursday or Friday – not Wednesday, if you can help it, it’s always such a commotion when the knitting party is here.”
“I’ll tell her,” Mona said hopelessly.
She could not explain her horror at the idea of seeing Char again, it all sounded too ridiculous, and there was nothing she could really say against Char except that she was a gambler and the sort of person that one did not usually find staying in people’s homes.
‘Oh, Heavens!’ Mona thought to herself. ‘What a mess I make of things! Why can’t I live a normal life like anyone else?’
It seemed as if nothing was ever simple. Here she had come home hoping to lose herself and her memories in the quietness of the country, but now Char, with her inquisitive restless eyes looking about for trouble – and usually finding it – was intruding on her seclusion. For one wild moment Mona thought of telling Michael everything. Supposing she took him at his word and confided in him, told him what her life had been with Lionel, told him, too, about Char and how without reason she was afraid of her?
Then she laughed bitterly at the idea.
‘I think Michael would die of the shock!’ she thought. ‘What would he say? How could he ever begin to understand people could live like that? No, I got myself into this trouble, now I shall have to get out of it again. After all, what can she do?’
But despite every effort to reassure herself, the fear persisted – and when Saturday came and she drove down to the station in the governess car to meet Char, she knew that she was as nervous as if the train contained a policeman coming to arrest her. But to the people who saw her passing through the village she looked merely her usual attractive self in a green check tweed suit and velvet peaked hat pulled over her curls. Opposite the post office, Lynn Archer hailed her.
“Where are you off to?”
“I’m going to the station,” Mona replied, pulling up the pony. “Do you want a lift?”
She noted that Lynn had the two elder children with her and she felt it might be a relief to meet Char with a party.
“Can’t spare the time, I’m afraid,” Lynn answered. “Bill’s coming home today and we have been buying crumpets for the occasion.”
“My loss, then,” Mona smiled, “but I will come and see you tomorrow and bring you somebody who will be a real type for your book.”
“Don’t speak to me about the book!” Lynn cried disgustedly. “I’ve written two chapters and I’m stuck again.”
“You’re hopeless. Unless someone commits a murder right on your doorstep you can’t find a plot.”
“I wish somebody would! What’s your friend like?”
“Straight from the Mysterious East.”
“It sounds exciting. Ask her if she’ll entrust her memoirs to me.”
