The Ugly Sister by Winston Graham Read Free Book Online

depended. A steady reliable trustworthy assistant. And likeable. For the first time since my meeting with Bram Fox I found another man likeable. When he looked at me and spoke to me his eyes did not immediately wander to my disfigurement. He was like a big friendly bear. For an hour or two it cured my heartache.
II
    T HEY LEFT about ten; the two men in the pinnace that had been waiting to take them back. Captain Morris was spending the night with us, and stayed on with the Admiral drinking brandy. By the time we left Uncle Davey was becoming maudlin. Slade hovered in the background as the Admiral, his face flushing with emotion, told Morris about his afflicted wife and what a tragedy her illness was to him in their happy married life. He seemed temporarily to have forgotten Betsy Slocombe living at Killiganoon.
    Desmond and Mary went to bed, and Mother and Tamsin and I went back to our own sitting room, where we drank camomile tea and discussed the evening. As I went into the room I saw an opened letter on the tallboy. It was lying face upwards, with a few fragments of sealing wax loosely on the envelope. The letter was addressed to Mistress Claudine Spry, Place House, St Anthony, in a big masculine hand that I instantly recognized, though I had seen it only once, on a note he had left for Tamsin. It was from Bram Fox.
    As I sipped my tea I wondered what Bram Fox could possibly be writing to my mother about. It must be something to do with Tamsin. But clearly whatever was said in the letter had not been passed onto Tamsin, otherwise she would not have looked as bored as she did. How could I get hold of it? Certainly there was no opportunity now.
    â€˜I think if you will permit me, Mama,’ I said, ‘I will retire. Mr Bruton was a fascination, but towards the end he became too technical and I could not follow him.’
    â€˜â€™Fraid I did not try,’ said Tamsin with a yawn.
    â€˜His name was not Bruton,’ said my mother. ‘Your uncle is getting deafer by the month. I can’t remember what his name was, but it wasn’t Bruton.’
    â€˜Brunel,’ said Tamsin. ‘As he was leaving I saw the name inside his hat.’
III
    T HAT D ECEMBER Admiral Davey Spry caught a cold; it settled on his lungs and turned to pleurisy. He stayed at Place over Christmas, and Anna Maria and Edward Carlyon and their baby – with a second on the way – came over for Christmas Day. In January he recovered, and presently Aunt Anna returned, smiling and seemingly recovered too. Parish was allowed out of the kennels and infiltrated the household again. At the first opportunity the Admiral pleaded pressure of work and left, but got only as far as Tregolls, where he took to his bed again. There were stormy scenes in our own wing at Place where my mother and sister quarrelled fiercely over Tamsin’s attachment for Mr Abraham Fox. The next time I saw Mr Fox was when I walked over with Sally Fetch to St Mawes to buy some lace. Our own boat was in use so we walked to Polvarth and took the ferry, whence it was a short distance to St Mawes and the little bow-windowed street climbing up towards the castle and overlooking the quay. Parish came with us on a lead, which he did not like, but I did not trust him when there were lambs frisking. A blustery April day with bags of cloud being hoisted across the sky, like the bags of coal being taken in at Place. So far none of the bags had opened, but we were prepared. Mama had told me that I must call in at Mr Hoskins, the mayor, and he would give me tea. The tiny town was a parliamentary borough returning two members to Parliament with a minimal number of voters, so there had to be a mayor, and since the Admiral was Lord of the Manor anyone with the name of Spry, be she never so insignificant, would be greeted and treated with esteem. But I had not asked Mama what to do about Fetch, and as she had now become almost a personal friend – my only friend – I