Masquerade. Part 5

We couldn't possibly feel as any natural mother and daughter should feel. I'm sure John put paid to any ideas you may have had about me."

"He told me you were dead," said Samantha in a cold little voice.

Barbara smiled at this. It did not disturb her one iota.

"Did he, indeed? Well, he certainly wasn't taking any chances, was he? Was he afraid the same thing might hap pen again, I wonder?"

"There was no fear of that," retorted Samantha heat edly.

Barbara smiled again, more broadly. "Oh, really! And are you such a woman of the world that you can pa.s.s judgment, just like that?"

"I don't know what you mean, but I think you behaved badly." The words were out before Samantha could pre vent them.

"Do you, indeed? And have you never been attracted by a man who seemed slightly out of reach?"

"No."

"Of course, you wouldn't have." Barbara's voice was bored.

"But you would hardly find any eligible men in a village in the back of beyond."

"We lived in a beautiful village," retorted Samantha angrily.

"We were very happy together. I never needed any other man."

"How charming!" Barbara turned away, and as she did so, something about her struck Samantha as being famil iar. It was strange, as they could not possibly have met before, and yet...

there was something about her.

"Well, I suppose Mother has explained the position," said Barbara now. "Are you agreeable?"

"Obviously," returned Samantha. "Or I shouldn't be here, should I? Wasn't I to be s.h.i.+pped back where I'd come from, if I refused?"

Barbara laughed softly. "My dear, don't hate me so much. I am your mother after all, and I don't want anyone to think we don't like each other."

Samantha took a cigarette from the box on the low walnut table and lit it abstractedly.

"Do you smoke much?" asked Barbara thoughtfully.

"Why?"

"Well, my dear, you won't be able to smoke in public, will you?"

Samantha frowned. "I don't smoke a lot," she said bluntly.

"And I'm seriously considering whether to go through with this."

"I shouldn't change your mind, now, my dear. After all, think of all the money that has already been spent on you. Mother did take you shopping, didn't she? That suit looks like one of Helene's creations."

Samantha pressed her lips together mutinously. Of course, her mother was right. Lady Davenport deserved some consideration. After all, had it not been for her, Samantha would never have agreed to this in the first place.

"Yes, it is," she said now, staring angrily at the other woman.

"I thought so." Barbara smiled. "Do relax, darling. I haven't committed a murder, you know. John probably lived a much happier life alone than he could ever have done with me. We just didn't mix. Like oil and water."

Samantha thought how hard Barbara was. She was used to people being open and frank about everything. If Bar bara believed that, she was practising the art of self-deception.

Perhaps she did that all the time. Or had she really no conscience? It seemed this was nearer the truth.

"Now," Barbara lounged on to a low chair, removing her gloves, "I want you to call me Barbara. I'm sure you'll find it much more to your taste, too. You could hardly call me Mother after this, could you?"

"Frankly, no." Samantha felt disgusted.

"Good. What did you call John?"

"John."

Barbara smiled. "How amusing! You must be one of the few children who have called both your parents by their Christian names."

Samantha drew on her cigarette and walked over to the window. Barbara watched her speculatively. Her eyes nar- rowed. Samantha was really not at all what she had expec ted.

She was much lovelier than she had ever imagined. And her height gave her an added advantage.

Still, reflected Barbara brightly, most men preferred a woman to be small and dainty like herself. Samantha could never bring off the kittenish things she could.

But her hair was a glory of gold and silver and Barbara wished her own hair would stay that way without the in-numberable rinses she had to have nowadays, to rid her self of the few grey hairs.

Samantha for her part was wondering how she was go ing to stand this continual bickering with her mother. It was a kind of polite bickering, that was true, but there was no love lost on either side. To Samantha, who had come to England prepared in part to accept her mother uncondi tionally, this was doubly unsteadying and she felt out of her depth.

She could understand slightly that it must be frustrat ing for Barbara to look so young and yet be verging on forty, and had she been welcomed, as she had expected to be, she might have agreed willingly to this scheme. But after learning about the past history which had led up to her father's exile, she could not help but feel differently. And now, to be confronted by this cold, calculating female, who seemed unable to have any normal parental feelings, the world seemed a very hostile place indeed.

She reflected than in twenty-four hours she had had her childish dreams burst like balloons before her eyes. Already she felt older, more mature, and certainly more wary.

She was inestimably relieved when a few moments later, Lady Davenport emerged from her bedroom. She stopped abruptly at the sight of her daughter.

"Barbara!" she exclaimed. "You're much earlier than I expected."

Barbara had crossed to a table on which was a tray con- taining an a.s.sortment of drinks, and was in the process of pouring herself a whisky when her mother came in.

"Yes, I am, aren't I? I couldn't wait any longer to meet my charming daughter."

Samantha turned away at this.

Lady Davenport bit her lip and looked questioningly at them.

The atmosphere in the room was not pleasant and she was wondering what had been said to make Samantha look so weary and dejected.

"Well," she said, "don't you think you have a beautiful daughter?"

Barbara turned round holding her gla.s.s negligently. "Yes, indeed. In fact, she's quite a surprise in many ways." She sipped her drink, eyeing her daughter mockingly over the rim of the gla.s.s.

"I ... I think I'll take a shower," said Samantha suddenly.

"You don't mind, do you....Grandmother?"

Lady Davenport hid her anxiety. "Of course not, my dear.

Go ahead."

"Thank you." Without a backward glance, Samantha left the room and after the door had closed behind her, Lady Davenport looked at Barbara.

"What have you been saying to upset that child?"

Barbara laughed softly. "Mother, we only met a few minutes ago. What could I say?"

"Knowing you as I do, a few minutes could seem a life-time," returned Lady Davenport heavily, sinking down on to a chair.

"You're exaggerating as usual," remarked Barbara coolly.

"Tell me3 did she take much persuading?"

Lady Davenport frowned. "Yes, a great deal of per suading.

She is an attractive girl. Would you care to pre tend to be a girl again, and waste the fullness of your youth?"

"No," admitted Barbara slowly. Then she reached for a cigarette. "But needs must when the devil drives."

"So long as it's not Barbara Harriet who gets hurt," said her mother bitterly.

"Well, darling, in the long run, if I get hurt, you do too." She smiled again. "I'm rather proud of myself really. This way I'm killing two birds with one stone."

"Must you talk in adages?" asked her mother crossly. "I only hope you're right, though. I dread to think of the publicity if .. "

"Relax." Barbara lounged on to a low chair. "Every thing is going to be fine, you'll see."

Barbara was gone by the time Samantha returned to the lounge and she could not help but feel relieved. With her grandmother she felt at ease, but Barbara caused dissatis faction and distrust.

Lady Davenport had some news to impart, however, "Barbara is giving her c.o.c.ktail party tomorrow even ing, as I intimated to you earlier," she told her grand daughter. "We shan't see her this evening. She has an other well, appointment."

"With this man she's involved with?" asked Samantha dryly, "You could say that, my dear. Now, don't be bitter. We have the evening to ourselves, so I have decided we will get tickets for a play and have an evening on the town. Does that sound appealing?"

Samantha's face changed. "Oh, yes, it sounds wonder ful!"

she exclaimed. "What are we going to see?"

They eventually decided upon a play which had been running for a couple of months with good reviews, and with Lady Davenport's undoubted influence they were able to obtain two seats in the stalls.

Samantha wore one of her new dresses, a long, severely styled caftan, whose stand-up collar gave her a rather med ieval appearance. She left her hair loose and Lady Daven port loaned her a fur stole to drape over her arms. Then she smiled affectionately at her.

"You look lovely, my dear," she said warmly. "Oh, Samantha, we are going to have some good times to gether. Will you find it worthwhile?"

Samantha flushed. "I'm doing this for you," she said softly.

"And of course it's worthwhile. Just meeting you has made my life have purpose again."

During the course of the play, Samantha found herself remembering Patrick Mallory. Yesterday, so many things had happened to put any thoughts of him out of her mind, but now here, in the comparative quietness of the theatre, she recalled how kind he had been to her. She wondered if she might possibly meet him again, but such an event seemed unlikely.

London was such a huge place, and be sides, if all went according to plan, she would not be here much longer, but at Daven, with her grandmother.

She sighed, and Lady Davenport glanced quickly at her.

"Are you bored, Samantha?" she asked, in a low voice.

Samantha smiled. "Of course not. I was thinking, that's all."

"In the middle of the play! That doesn't sound encouraging Samantha squeezed her grandmother's arm. "All this is quite new to me," she murmured gently. "Even now, I find it difficult to accept everything that has happened."

Lady Davenport patted her hand. "We have a lot of lost time to make up," she agreed. "But are you really enjoy ing yourself?"

"Immensely," replied Samantha truthfully, and there after concentrated on the actors on the stage and put all thoughts of Patrick Mallory out of her mind.

The evening ended with supper at a small but discreet restaurant and they eventually got back to the hotel at mid night.

Lady Davenport was looking a little strained and Samantha helped her gently along to their suite.

"I think I shall have a little rest in the morning," said Lady Davenport wearily. "If you want to go out, Saman tha, before I'm up, do so, but don't get lost, will you?"

"Of course, not, Grandmother. It's been a marvelous evening. Thank you."

Lady Davenport smiled. "It's been marvelous for me, too."

She kissed Samantha's cheek. "And now ... bed! Goodnight, my dear."

"Goodnight. Grandmother."

Samantha went to bed too, but not to sleep. She lay awake for hours, die excitement of the evening having left her mind too active for actual slumber. It was four before she actually slept and when Emily brought her breakfast in at nine o'clock, she felt as though she had not slept at all. Mixed with her thoughts of the new things that had already happened to her was the trepidation she was feeling at the thought of Barbara's party, and she wondered who would be there.

She dressed after breakfast in dark blue slacks and a blue Italian over blouse. She tied her hair up in a ponytail and after enquiring of Emily how her grandmother was feeling this morning she pulled on a short sheepskin. jacket and left the hotel.

Outside in the Strand, a cool wind was blowing, but the sun was trying to break through and the air was invigorating.

Samantha revelled in the feeling of freedom she was experiencing and b.u.t.toning her coat she set off to walk in the direction of Trafalgar Square.

It was all enormously exciting and she could see much; more on foot than she had seen in the car. She stood and watched the fountains, smiled at the statues of the lions and continued on towards Admiralty Arch.

The Mall stretched ahead of her and noticing the park on her left she decided to walk through it towards Buckingham Palace.

Although it was still comparatively early, there was an amazing amount of traffic to Samantha's eyes, and the peace of the park made her think of the quietness she had known in Perruzio She stood for a while on the bridge which spanned the lake in the park and watched the ducks gliding about the smooth surface. Then she continued on towards her goal; the palace and the Victoria Memorial Then with a sigh she turned and made her way back down the Mall. Although she had felt tired when she awoke her tiredness had left her and she felt exhilarated.