CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Lynn remained motionless as Blair Marshall climbed the fence at the bottom of the zigzag. She watched him walk between the poplar trees growing along the lower slopes of the hill, and for one instant she was bitten by a crazy desire to run round the cottage end of the water, and along the far side of the lake to meet him. She then reminded herself that he had probably come to see Grandy, and to rush forward as though in glad greeting would only make her look foolish. He'd wonder about her eagerness—which was something she herself also questioned.

However, instead of pausing at the cottage in search of its owner he came towards her. 'Max is out,' he stated as though already aware of this fact.

'Yes. He's gone to his club. Did you wish to see him?'

'No. I knew he was away from home because I happened to be on our drive when his red Ford flashed past the entrance.'

'Oh.' Vaguely, she wondered why the sight of him made her breath quicken, then, as he merely continued to regard her in silence, taking in the flaming colour of her hair, she said, 'In that case, why have you come?'

'I felt a strong need to talk to you.'

'About what?' She looked at him wonderingly, her eyes vividly green as they reflected the surrounding pastures and the brightness of the weed on the lake.

'About Stan Bennett,' he admitted bluntly. 'Is it possible for you to tell me the truth?'

Her eyes blazed as a pink spot appeared in each cheek. 'Are you suggesting I'm a habitual liar?' she demanded indignantly.

'No—although there are plenty of people who skate round the truth, and no doubt it will depend upon what you decide to tell me.'

'And that will depend upon what you want to know.'

'OK, then perhaps you'll tell me why I get the feeling your acquaintance with Stan is more than casual?' His grey eyes held a piercing quality, almost as if defying her to deny his accusation.

She returned his gaze frankly. 'I've no idea. Perhaps you could tell me—and then we'll both know.'

'Possibly it's because you came looking for him. I'd like to know the true situation.'

'Situation?' She considered the word carefully. 'Why don't you come out into the open and tell me exactly what's on your mind?'

'Very well, I'll spell it out. The fact that you came looking for Stan this morning makes me wonder if it has been a habit for you to follow the track up there to a meeting-place.'

Her chin rose as her indignation began to grow, forming itself into a knot of anger that made her want to hit out at him. And then she guessed that his provocation was deliberate. Red-haired people were notoriously quick-tempered, and it was possible that he thought that if he goaded her sufficiently she'd burst forth with a few revealing indiscretions.

Watching her, he said abruptly, 'I have a niggling suspicion concerning your relationship with Stan—if you get my drift.'

'No, I do not get your drift, Mr Marshall,' she snapped crisply. 'I'd be grateful if you'd spit it out because I'm beginning to lose patience with this pointless conversation.'

'OK, then, here it is. Were you the reason for the breakup of Stan's marriage?' His mouth had tightened.

She stared at him, aghast that he should ask such a question, then she exploded furiously, 'So that's what you think! How dare you?'

'Well—were you?' His jaw seemed to thrust itself forward as he took a step towards her, gripped her arms and stared down into her face.

Her temper flared as she wrenched herself free. 'Considering it was I who introduced Delphine to Stan, I can't think of a more idiotic suggestion.'

His eyes narrowed. 'So, you know her?'

'Of course I know her. She was my neighbour in Wellington. At least, she lived in a boarding-house next door to my parents' home in the suburb of Kelburn. Please believe there was never anything between Stan and me.'

'OK. I believe you.' His voice held an echo of relief.

But she was not satisfied, and, drawing a deep breath, she enquired with forced sweetness, 'Are you forgetting I live in Wellington, Mr Marshall? Even you must realise it's a long way to come for a roll in the hay.'

'I said I believe you.' His voice had become harsh. 'It's just that I hated to think of your being the cause of their breakup.'

His words surprised her. 'Why would that be, Mr Marshall?'

But instead of answering her question he asked another. 'You communicate with Delphine?'

'Occasionally.' She saw no reason to deny this fact.

'So where is she now?'

'In London. Surely you're aware of her whereabouts? Doesn't Stan know where to get in touch with her?'

'I'm not positive. He's hardly spoken of her. In fact he's never even admitted the reason for the marriage breakup. That's why I felt suspicious when a girl as beautiful as yourself came searching for him in one of the back fields.'

She tossed the compliment aside. 'Do you always jump to conclusions in that presumptuous manner? Typical of a man, I must say.' Then she added with a hint of curiosity, 'Surely you'd have heard if Stan had been having an affair?'

He surveyed her coldly. 'You don't understand the situation. Until recently I've been away from Marshlands. It's called gaining experience on other properties. I didn't know what characteristics Stan might have developed, even if he is my cousin.'

'He was running Marshlands alone?'

'Of course not. My father was with him until he retired to live in Taupo where he spends all day on the lake, and when that happened Gary Palmer was employed. It then became necessary for me to return to Marshlands, and by that time Delphine had left, and Stan had turned into a morose fellow who was definitely in need of a holiday.'

Lynn's normally smooth brow puckered as she said, 'I can understand Delphine being dissatisfied with her marriage—but I can't understand how she could have left her little boy.'

'Aren't you aware that she tried to take him with her?'

'No. I've heard very little of the affair, although I've wondered what made her leave Tony.'

His mouth twisted into a mirthless grin. 'The answer is simple. The court awarded custody of the child to his father.'

'I thought the custody of children was usually given to the mother.'

'Not when it deprives the child. It didn't take the court long to decide that life at Marshlands had more to offer the boy than a precarious existence with a solo mother. Besides, Stan was fortunate in having Maisie and Sandra to take over motherly duties.'

'Who are they?' She was unable to recall hearing the names.

'Maisie Bates is my housekeeper. Bert, her husband, attends to the garden and does odd jobs on the farm when we need an extra hand. They came to me when my parents took our previous housekeeper to live with them at Taupo.'

'And Sandra—who is she?'

'Sandra Walsh. Her parents live in the Waipawa township. She helps Maisie and is supposed to control young Tony, but I'm afraid she's finding him to be rather a handful.'

Lynn frowned. 'Why should he be a handful?'

'For the simple reason that he's a disobedient little lad who needs a firm hand. Despite anything Sandra says, he still suits himself. She becomes really mad with him.'

'Poor little Tony,' Lynn said softly, her heart going out to the boy. 'He's probably just like his father.'

He ignored the latter remark as he made a request. 'If he shows up round here you must send him home at once.'

'Is he likely to do that?' Lynn asked, remembering what her grandfather had said about Tony and the water.

'More than likely. He's going through the frog and tadpole stage. If he fell into the water he might not get out. He could sink into the muddy bottom and be held by weeds.'

The thought made her shudder as she again recalled the time the edge had given way beneath Delphine and herself. 'I can see how dangerous it could be for a small boy,' she admitted. 'Especially one who reaches out to catch tadpoles in a jar.'

'Good. At least we agree on that point.' He paused while his eyes examined every detail of her face, resting upon the fiery strands curling about the polo neck of her green jersey, then moving to watch the play of the dimple near the corner of her sweet and generous mouth.

'I'm glad you weren't the cause of that marriage breakup,' he said softly, his eyes holding an enigmatic expression.

'The day I break up a marriage will be the day,' she retorted. 'But why should you be concerned about any part I might have had in the affair?'

'Because I...' He fell silent, staring at her in a slightly puzzled manner, almost as if he himself wondered about this fact.

'Yes, go on,' she pursued. 'I'm interested.'

'If you must know, I'd hate to think you'd had a hand in it, but I'd still like to know why you went searching for Stan this morning.' He looked at her quizzically. 'Care to give me a reason?'

Her eyes flashed with impatience. 'For heaven's sake, I only wanted to ask him about Tony. Next time I write to Delphine I'd like to be able to tell her I've seen the boy and... and perhaps a little about him.'

His mouth took on a sardonic twist. 'What makes you think she'd be interested?'

Lynn became indignant. 'Of course she'd be interested. How can you doubt it?'

'Because she went away. She left the boy,' he pointed out bluntly. 'She'd been given access to see him, yet she takes herself all the way to London. What sort of a mother is that?'

Lynn found the question difficult to answer! They had wandered towards a seat built round the trunk of a massive weeping willow tree growing a short distance from the water, and as they sat beneath the hanging fronds she said, 'I feel sure she expects to have Tony with her—sooner or later.'

'Mere wishful thinking,' he snapped. 'With that custody order against her, she hasn't a chance.' Then he asked abruptly, 'Is it possible you can tell me what caused the marriage breakup?'

'Yes, I think so,' she said carefully.

'Then please enlighten me.'

'Actually there were two factors. Boredom was one of them.'

'Boredom?' He sounded shocked as he added, 'Boredom on a property so close to a town where there are numerous activities of interest to country women? There's the Countrywomen's Institute—there's an arts and crafts centre where they learn spinning, weaving, painting and pottery. Couldn't she have become involved in any of these things?'

Lynn sighed as understanding for Delphine's problems swept through her mind. 'Not one of those activities could compensate for the career she felt she'd thrown away.'

'Career?' he snorted. 'I wasn't aware that she'd sacrificed any sort of a. career.'

Lynn regarded him with surprise. 'Surely you know what she was doing before she married Stan?'

He shrugged. 'You're forgetting that I wasn't around to learn these details. So what was this all-important career?'

'She worked with a Wellington publishing firm. Most of her time was spent assessing or editing manuscripts. You see, Delphine was an academic, rather than a spinner or potter or—or someone who did only housework.'

'Ah—I told you so,' he declared with triumph. 'Didn't I say that city girls are unable to adjust? So now we can understand why she became bored.' He paused thoughtfully, then said, 'You mentioned two factors. What was the other one?'

She hesitated then admitted, 'I'm afraid it was Stan himself. His attitude was of little help.'

'Stan? You're blaming him for their breakup? I don't understand.'

'It was really his possessiveness. Delphine was offered an office job in Waipawa, but Stan kicked up merry hell. He would not allow her to take it, despite it being something she needed.'

'Why not? Stan's a reasonable sort of fellow.'

'Not when it comes to somebody he imagines he owns body and soul. He expected her to be a chattel. He told her that as his wife she would toe the line. When he came indoors he expected her to be there, ready to submit to anything he—he had in mind.' The last words had brought colour to her cheeks, causing her to add hastily, 'In fact she felt she'd been turned into a mere servant.'

'Was there anything else?' His tone had become grim.

She considered the question then decided she might as well tell him all she knew, therefore her hesitation was only brief before she said, 'There was also the question of money. Before her marriage Delphine earned a very good salary, but of course it stopped when she left the firm.'

'That was to be expected.'

'After that she had to ask Stan for money, and he demanded that she accounted for every cent she spent. Stan was not accustomed to sharing his salary, you understand.'

He looked at her doubtfully. 'I find difficulty in believing that Stan could be like this.'

'Then kindly learn a few facts before you launch into a full-scale criticism of Delphine.'

'Stan is not here for me to question him about these matters,' he pointed out with a touch of superiority.

'Nor would you do so if he were here,' she flashed at him. 'You'd dodge the issue by telling yourself it wasn't your concern.'

His eyes became hooded. 'What makes you so sure about that?'

'Because men always stick together. Even Grandy is against Delphine without knowing the facts.' She fell silent, watching two black swans gliding smoothly along the water, until at last she said, 'Well, at least I'll be able to tell her about Tony.'

'I shall tell you what to say about Tony.'

'No, thank you. I'd prefer to observe him for myself.'

'And I'd prefer you to leave well alone.' His words had become clipped, his brows drawn together.

Her eyes widened as she turned to him. 'What do you mean?'

'To put it bluntly, I want you to keep away from the boy.'

She became indignant. 'Surely you're joking?'

'Not at all. How long is it since you've seen him?'

'About eighteen months. It was just before...' The words died on her lips.

'Just before his mother left him to themercy of other people,' he completed for her. 'It's possible Tony would remember you. In some way his young mind might connect you with his mother, and then, just as he's learning to do without her, his memory of her would be revived. And that, I consider, would be tragic.'

'You're trying to make him forget her?' Lynn demanded angrily.

'Don't you think it would be wiser?'

'No, I do not,' she said defiantly.

'You'd prefer to see the crying for her begin all over again?' His tone had taken on a bitterness.

She tried to defend her opinion. 'He was only four then. Now he has turned six and is probably accustomed to the situation.'

'Nevertheless, it's something I'll not risk, Miss Nichols—therefore I'll be grateful if you'll keep away from all areas of the Marshlands property.' His voice had become cold.

Her chin rose as she flared, 'I've no wish to set foot on as much as an inch of your precious domain, Mr Marshall.'

'And please don't encourage the lad to come here. In fact I'd like you to promise you'll make absolutely no attempt to see Tony. I hope I've made myself clear concerning this matter.'

Hot words rose to her lips but she bit them back while controlling her temper only with an effort. It would be unwise to quarrel openly with this man, she realised. It would only make her task more difficult, therefore she forced a smile as she said, 'Your wishes are very clear indeed. I shall not go chasing after him.'

'Good. I also hope I can trust you.' His voice had become hard.

The dimple beside her mouth came and went. 'You'll risk trusting a city girl, Mr Marshall?'

He ignored the taunt as he queried, 'I suppose your life in the city is one long round of gaiety?'

'Of course it is. Theatres, parties, and all that.' Her mind groped in vain for further entertainments.

His eyes held a hint of disapproval. 'It sounds an empty life. Have you no serious activities, apart from making appointments in your father's surgery, dusting the desk or straightening the magazines on the waiting-room table?'

'What would you mean by "serious activities", Mr Marshall?'

'I suppose I mean serious thoughts about your own futures. Marriage, for instance. I can easily imagine a string of males beating a path to your doorway.'

A giggle caused the dimple to flash. 'Of course. Their sports cars are parked in a long line down the road while they fight on the front porch. Mother rushes out with a broom to sweep them away.'

'But no doubt she allows one to remain?'

'Naturally—the most eligible.'

'Ah, then you do have a boyfriend?'

'Is that any concern of yours?'

'Of course not.'

'Then why ask the question?'

'Why indeed?' Again his eyes examined her features, this time lingering on her lips before travelling lower to rest upon the area where her breasts caused two rounded mounds to rise beneath her green jersey.

The intensity of his scrutiny caused a flush to stain her cheeks. 'Your blatant stare is becoming very personal, Mr Marshall,' she informed him coldly. 'Am I the first city girl you've encountered?'

He remained serious. 'Let's just say you're one of the loveliest I've seen.'

His compliment caused the flush to deepen, and although she said nothing she became conscious of an inner satisfaction.

He went on, 'I'll also consider you to be one of the most sensible girls I've met—if you'll promise to make no attempt to see Tony.'

Lynn chuckled. 'I can't do that because I can see him now. Look—over there on the zigzag. Even from here I can see how much he has grown since I last saw him ‑'

Her words were interrupted by a shrill voice calling from across the water. 'Uncle Blair—Uncle Blair!'

An oath escaped Blair as he left her abruptly, his long strides carrying him purposefully round the cottage end of the lake and towards the track leading to the bottom of the zigzag. Lynn followed him gleefully, having to run to keep up with his pace, but when they reached the boundary fence he turned and faced her angrily. 'Stay there—just you keep off my property!' he snarled.

She forced a deliberate laugh. 'My goodness—what big teeth you have, Mr Marshall.' Then, looking at the boy on the other side of the wires, she said, 'Hello, Tony—remember me?'

Tony shook his head while staring at her doubtfully, then he looked up into the tail man's face. 'Mrs Bates sent me to find you, Uncle Blair. She says to tell you a stock agent has come to talk about buying cattle.'

'OK, let's go.' He grabbed Tony's hand and together they went up the zigzag, the small boy racing to keep beside him.

'I want to talk to that lady ‑' The young voice floated on the late afternoon air, but there was no releasing of the grip Blair held on his hand.

Lynn smiled to herself as she watched them ascend the track, the boy's curiosity obvious as he sent glances over his shoulder.

As soon as they had disappeared over the brow of the hill she left the fence and returned to the cottage. In the kitchen her thoughts remained with Blair Marshall as she prepared the evening meal. But when she went into her bedroom she paused to lift one of her books from the alcove table, and this time her thoughts flew to Delphine, who had been responsible for her small success in the field of children's literature.

Returning to the living-room, she put a match to the fire, and as she watched the leaping flames her mind went back to the days when she had first known the slim, dark-haired Delphine who was a few years older than herself.

They had met in the cable-car which carried people from the city centre up a steep grade to the suburb of Kelburn. At the top, while walking along the footpath, they had been surprised to learn that they lived next door to each other, Delphine in a boarding-house filled with office workers. She had confided that her job was with a publishing firm, and, when Lynn had admitted to a secret desire to write stories for children, Delphine had laughed.

'You'll never do it by just thinking or talking about it,' she said. 'You have to put pen to paper. Why not make a start by writing me? I'll assess it for you. As it happens I'm working in the children's books department.'

And so it began. Lynn, full of enthusiasm, wrote stories which were later typed in the office of her father's surgery whenever the opportunity arose. They were then given to Delphine for criticism, but, despite the thought and labour put into them, they were pulled to pieces with ruthless honesty.

'Try again,' Delphine ordered. 'You're getting there.'

But Lynn felt she was getting nowhere. Nevertheless the tenacious streak in her nature forced her to try again—and again—until she almost reached the stage of giving up. And then the day came when the help she had received from Delphine bore fruit. It took the form of a long envelope which arrived in the mail.

Scarcely able to believe her eyes, she saw it was from the firm for which Delphine worked. Her fingers shook as she tore it open, and then her eyes almost blurred as she read that they thanked her for submitting her manuscript, The Little Grey Donkey, which they would be pleased to accept. Publication would take place during the following year for the six-to ten-year age-group. An agreement was being prepared.

Lynn read the letter several times, her excitement growing more intense with each unfolding of the single sheet of paper topped by its letterhead. Next year she would actually have something in print—her dream of being a children's author would be realised, and she had Delphine to thank for the miracle.

Later, when the bubbling excitement had simmered down sufficiently to allow clear thinking, she read the first line again. 'Thank you for submitting your manuscript.' But she had not submitted a manuscript. She had merely handed Delphine several stories concerning the adventures of Donald Donkey who, having discovered an open gate, had trotted out into the wide world beyond the confines of his paddock.

'Not very original,' Delphine had commented, flicking rapidly through the pages.

Lynn had sighed. 'Well—if you'll just give me a criticism. After that I'd better give up.'

'Don't you dare,' Delphine had rasped at her.

And now it seemed that the stories had been combined to form a book. And it was Delphine who had placed it under the nose of the person who would accept it for publication. It was Delphine who had groomed her efforts towards this moment.

At a later date Lynn met the publisher, who expressed surprise to discover that she was only seventeen. He encouraged her to continue with her writing, and even admitted he liked the style she was developing. She then knew she must have her own typewriter—a portable she could put in the car when visiting her grandfather at Frog Hollow.

But now, while looking back to those past days, Lynn realised it had been a mistake to tell Delphine about Frog Hollow.

Delphine's hazel eyes had been filled with envy as a sigh of dejection had escaped her. 'You have a place to visit in the country?' she almost moaned. 'You're so lucky. How I'd love a weekend away from the noise, the hustle and bustle of the city—to say nothing of having a few days away from that boarding-house.'

Her words resulted in a visit to Frog Hollow, the journey in Lynn's small car taking a little less than four hours. It was something she could do for Delphine, she thought, and heaven knew she was deeply in debt for . all the help she had received.

But how was she to know that Delphine would meet Stan Bennett, who happened to call on Grandy with a request for assistance in tailing the lambs? And how could she possibly know they would fall for each other like a couple of shooting stars dropping from the night sky? How was she to know they'd begin by twinkling at each other, and that soon they'd be sparkling with impatience to get married?

The wedding was a simple register office ceremony which took only a few minutes to perform. In fact the speed of it left Lynn wondering if they were really married. She was their only bridesmaid, and she still felt dazed when the few friends who attended gathered in a restaurant for a wedding lunch, and where photos were taken.

But it was all too rapid. Stan and Delphine did not know each other well enough, and the marriage lacked the understanding that would have given it stability. Despite the birth of Tony it did not last.

It was not surprising that incompatibility had raised its head, Lynn thought as she recalled how the loss of a career had begun to niggle at Delphine. Nor was this helped by Stan's possessiveness towards the money he brought into the house.

Further reminiscences took her back to one of her weekend visits to Frog Hollow. She had climbed the zigzag and walked across the field path to visit Delphine, but even before she had reached the door of the manager's house she heard the raised voices.

Stan was in a rage. He'd been trapped into marriage, he shouted.

Delphine screamed that he could be free any moment he liked. She would leave. She would go home to her mother in London and take Tony with her.

Stan roared dire threats about what he would do if she dared to remove his son.

At that moment Lynn raised her hand and knocked on the door, hoping her presence would stop the quarrel. Stan then stormed out of the house while Delphine wept that she couldn't take any more of this traumatic existence with him. Nor was it long before Lynn heard that Delphine had actually left him.

But despite Grandy's disapproval of Delphine, and Blair Marshall's obvious siding with Stan, Lynn's sympathies were with her friend. And again she remembered that her own books for children had seen publication only through Delphine—therefore the report she'd been asked to make on Tony took the proportion of a most sacred trust. It was something she must do, but the burning question was how to make a beginning.

The answer came next day, which was much sooner than Lynn could have hoped for. And it happened in a way which surprised her because, although she expected to go searching for Tony, the boy simplified matters by coming to her.

It happened during the afternoon when she carried a pen and scribbling-pad to the willow tree seat. Nearby the thick clumps of hawthorn, now past their massed pink and white flowering, sheltered her from the westerly breeze which blew the green weed to the other side of the lake. But even as she began to wonder what lay beneath its blanket-like surface a sound floated on the air.

A glance at her watch told her it was the school bus, a vehicle which collected children from the school gate, then travelled along country roads to drop them at various places. There was no reason for it to stop at Frog Hollow, therefore she was surprised to hear its brief pause at their entrance.

Moments later she saw Tony, small schoolbag slung over his shoulder, walk towards the cottage. He stepped on to the veranda and peered into the room, his nose pressed against one of the square panes of the french window. Then, on discovering the room to be empty, he left the veranda and made his way towards the water.

Lynn sat motionless, waiting for him to become aware of her presence beneath the hanging fronds of the willow tree. It took only an instant for him to do so, and then he ran towards her. There was a long silence while he examined her carefully, and when he spoke his voice betrayed disappointment. 'You're not my mother.'

Her heart went out to him. 'No. I'm Lynn. Do you remember Lynn?'

He shook his head.

'You saw me yesterday. Did you think I might be your mother, and so you came back to have another look at me?'

He nodded.

'Does Uncle Blair know you've come here?'

Again he shook his head.

She looked at him thoughtfully, feeling delighted by this unexpected encounter, and realising she must make the most of it. He was a slimly built boy who would one day be tall, she noted. His dark hair fell in a fringe across his brow, and he looked at her with hazel eyes which gave him a resemblance to Delphine. But not to be denied, and even more pronounced, was the definite likeness to his tall brown-haired father.

A question leapt into her mind. 'Why didn't the bus stop at the Marshlands entrance?'

'Because I didn't pull the cord, so it went past. The other kids yelled at the driver but he took no notice till we got here—then he stopped the bus and told me to run home or he'd put a mighty big flea in my ear.'

'Doesn't anyone meet you at the drive entrance?'

'Sandra was there. She shouted at the driver but he didn't hear. She jumped up and down—I reckon she got mad as mad.'

Lynn hid a smile. 'Why didn't you pull the cord?'

'Because I wanted to come here.' The statement came frankly.

'So you didn't just forget—and it wasn't that you were unable to reach the cord. This is really a planned visit.'

He nodded without speaking, admission shining from his eyes.

She tried to remain serious but the effort was too much. A laugh escaped her as she said, 'What shall I do with you?'

A smile broke over his face as he looked at her hopefully. 'Have you got anything to eat? When I come home from school Mrs Bates gives me cookies. She says growing boys gotta be fed.'

Lynn laughed again. 'Very well—we'll see what we can find.' She stood up, left her pad and pen on the seat, then led him to the kitchen where she poured milk into a glass and spread wholemeal scones with butter and raspberry jam.

Watching her, he said, 'Mrs Bates makes me wash my hands.'

'Top marks for her,' Lynn applauded, then guided him to the bathroom where she put warm water in the washbasin. 'Use plenty of soap,' she advised as the water turned grey.

A few minutes later he sat at the kitchen table and ate with relish while Lynn watched the scones disappear. Here was the opportunity to learn a little about his days, she realised—but where to begin? Tentatively she put out a feeler. 'I suppose Mrs Bates gets you ready for school?'

'No. Sandra makes me wash my face and put on my school clothes. She cuts my school lunch while Mrs Bates makes me eat my porridge. After that Sandra makes me clean my teeth before we go.'

'To catch the school bus?'

'No. I only come home on the bus. In the morning she takes me in a red car that my mummy used to drive.'

Lynn recalled the small red Fiat that had been put at Delphine's disposal, but she then shied away from further mention of his mother by asking, 'Do you like riding on the school bus?'

'Not much. I gotta get on it straight after school. I can't stop for a while and play with any of the other boys.' His tone had become full of complaint but brightened as he added, 'Dad says I can have a bike when I'm a big boy.'

'You've a few years to wait before that happy day arrives,' Lynn pointed out, realising that his main problem was loneliness. Apart from breaks between lessons and lunch hour at school, he lacked the playtime company of other children. Then, visualising him sitting at a desk in the classroom, she asked, 'Which lessons do you like best?'

'I don't like maths,' he declared almost fiercely. 'The best time is when teacher reads a story to us.'

'Some day you'll read stories for yourself,' she told him.

'I can now, a bit...'

'Then we'll hear how well you can recognise words.' She went to her bedroom where she selected two of her books which were near his age-group, and bright with illustrations of farm animals.

The words in the first book she placed before him were recognised with ease, but with the second and more difficult book he became hesitant. 'What's this word, Lynn?' he asked.

Before she could reply a shadow appeared at the open doorway as Blair Marshall's cool voice said, 'Perhaps it's obedience—a word you've not yet learnt, my young friend.'

The boy grinned happily. 'Hello, Uncle Blair—we're having scones and jam.'

Blair scowled. 'Yes, I can see we're being fed and entertained as well.' He turned to Lynn, his jaw thrust forward, his eyes cold with anger. 'What did you do? Did you bribe the bus driver to bring him along the road and drop him off at Frog Hollow?'

⇐ Предыдущая 1 234 5 6 7 8 9 10 Следующая ⇒