That Man Simon by Anne Weale Read Free Book Online Page A

out of doors in the April sun. This was the time of year she loved best of all, when everything was beginning to come to life again, and soon it would be warm enough to have tea in the garden, and to sleep with the windows flung wide, and to jump out of bed in the morning with pleasure instead of reluctance.
    The clock on the church tower had just struck seven when she set out for the Warings’ Tudor-style house at the other end of the village. She was posting some letters for her grandfather in the box at the corner of the green when a motor horn tooted. She glanced over her shoulder and saw James climbing out of his car outside the surgery.
    He came across the grass, his jacket slung over his shoulder, his shirt open at the neck. As he approached, Jenny felt a small knot of tension tightening inside her.
    ‘All dressed up, I see. Where are you off to?’ he asked, eyeing her new dress. It was still very warm, and she was carrying the white wool coat which she would need for coming home.
    ‘The Warings are having a party. I thought you and your mother might be there,’ she said, trying to sound at ease, but knowing that her colour had risen.
    ‘They did invite us, but Mother hasn’t been too fit this week, and as you see I’m only just knocking off. I might have come along if it hadn’t been a rather wearing day. But by the time I’ve cleaned up the party will be half over. So I think I’ll have a bath and a meal and an early night.’
    ‘I don’t suppose you’ll be missing much. I’m sorry your mother isn’t well. I’ve been busy decorating or I would have popped in to see her. Perhaps I’ll look in tomorrow,’ said Jenny.
    ‘Yes, do - she’s always glad to see you.’ James studied his dusty shoes, and Jenny tried vainly to think of something to say. ‘Well, I mustn’t keep you from the party. Have a good time,’ he said, at length.
    When she reached Red Gables, there were already several cars parked in the road outside, and on the gravelled sweep in front of the house. The pseudo-Elizabethan door was opened by Elsie Bagley, the daily help. It was Elsie who was responsible for the entire village knowing that, in spite of outward appearances, the Warings did not get on. Mrs.
    Waring would have had a fit if she had realized that every time she and her husband had a row, Elsie lost no time in imparting the details of the dispute to anyone who cared to listen.
    ‘Oh, it’s you, Miss Jenny. Coats in Mrs. W.’s bedroom.
    You know the way, don’t you?’ She jerked a thumb at the staircase. Then, lowering her voice, ‘Miss Fenella’s not down yet. She’s doing herself up special tonight. Got the new boy-friend coming, you see,’ she explained, with a smirk.
    Jenny left her white coat in the ornate oyster and gold bedroom at the front of the house, and then crossed the close-carpeted landing to tap on the door of Fenella’s room.
    Bidden to enter, she found the other girl sitting at her dressing-table, wearing only a bra and tights. She was putting on eye make-up.
    ‘I shan’t be long,’ she said, over her shoulder. ‘Has everyone arrived?’
    ‘No, only the first half-dozen, I think. How many people are coming?’ Jenny sat down on the end of the bed, admiring Fenella’s flawless golden back.
    Like most brunettes, she had an olive skin and, with the aid of a sun-lamp, cultivated a year-round tan so that she looked always as if she had recently returned from a skiing holiday or a cruise.
    ‘About thirty, but mostly Mummy’s cronies.’ Having finished her eyes, Fenella sprayed herself with scent. ‘That’s a nice little dress. One of your home-mades?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes, I think it’s quite successful, considering it cost me only three pounds,’ said Jenny equably. ‘What are you wearing?’
    Fenella moved to her wardrobe and took out a tunic-and-trouser suit of silver crochet. ‘This.’
    When she put it on, Jenny said sincerely, ‘It’s lovely.’
    She wished she had the