The Marrying Game by Kate Saunders Read Free Book Online

serious, and would not let her lighten the tone. ‘You’ve been working like a slave. It won’t do, Rufa. You shouldn’t be spending your days flogging mincemeat.’
    Rufa sighed. She dearly loved poetry, but Edward’s plain prose could be very comforting, like dry bread after tons of chocolate mousse. ‘The hardest part wasn’t the work,’ she said. ‘I don’t mind raising a few blisters. The hardest part was persuading them all to pay the electricity bill, instead of buying gin.’
    He let out a grim bark of laughter. ‘They are a lot of lazy bastards.’
    ‘Oh, they’re not that bad. Nancy’s done loads of overtime . She wore one of her bosomy shirts last night, and came home with a fortune in tips.’
    ‘Nancy’s a career barmaid,’ Edward said. ‘With her, it’s a vocation. But you’re a clever girl, and I wish to God you’d make something of your life. I always told your father he was disgustingly selfish, talking you out of university. You’re still young enough to do it, you know.’
    ‘You think I should have ignored him,’ Rufa said, without rancour.
    ‘You spoilt him. I mean, we all did.’ Edward sighed. ‘God knows, I couldn’t refuse him anything either.’
    ‘If you’re pushing university, I wish you’d work on Selena.’
    Edward knew she wanted to change the subject. ‘Hmm.’
    ‘You don’t believe me, but she’s terribly bright. A girl who reads Milton and Spenser for fun should be doing Eng Lit at university.’
    ‘I’m talking about you,’ Edward said. He took a step back, so that he could look into her face. ‘I’d be a rotten sort of godfather, if I let you throw yourself away.’
    Rufa knew, absolutely, that Edward would be dead against the Marrying Game. The bare idea would make him furious – she might as well tell him she was going on the other sort of game. She wanted to get him off the subject of the future.
    ‘I don’t think the Man meant godfathering to be such hard work,’ she said, smiling. Edward had been a boy of seventeen when the Man selected him for the honour, and from the first (totally unlike every other godparent haphazardly chosen to sponsor the girls), he had done his duty with high seriousness.
    He gave her one of his rarer smiles, grave and tender. ‘I don’t think of it as work. And I think I’d worry about you, whether you were my godchild or not.’
    Rufa was touched. She forgot, for long periods, that Edward was such a handsome man. It struck her again now, seeing his face in the half-light, and made her feel suddenly awkward – handsomeness had never been part of Edward’s job description. ‘You really mustn’t.’
    ‘It’s dirty work, but someone has to do it.’
    ‘Things will get better. They have to.’
    Edward said, ‘Losing Melismate could be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.’
    She drew in her breath sharply. This was heresy.
    ‘No, listen to me. I don’t mean the Man dying, of course not. But his death might have the positive side effect of setting you free. I cared deeply for your father, and I care for his family. But I care for you most. You’re worth the lot of them put together.’ ‘Care for’ was Edwardish for ‘love’. ‘At least this way, I won’t have to stand by and watch you falling into the same trap – the fantasy that inheriting a pile of old bricks somehow cuts you off from ordinary life. That’s what killed your father.’
    He would not allow her to protest.
    ‘Once this house is sold, I want you to join the real world. I don’t care what you do, as long as it’s more constructive than skivvying for your hopeless relations.’
    This was a very long and very revealing speech for Edward to make – and he had not finished. He pulled something out of his jacket pocket. ‘I want you to have this. It belonged to my mother.’
    He put a small box of worn leather into Rufa’s hand. Surprised to get a present from Edward that was not a Boots token, she opened it. Inside, on a