BOOKS BY ANNE MATHER 9 страница

Mike waited until the waitress had brought their tea and scones and then he said quietly: "How much longer do you think you can go on, Helen?"

Helen's head jerked up. She had been idly tracing the pattern of the tablecloth with her fingernail, and had hardly been aware of his presence. "I - what do you mean?" she exclaimed, colouring.

"I think you know what I mean," replied Mike, taking the initiative and pouring the tea himself. "How long do you think you can go on living on your nerves? You don't eat - and from the look of you you don't sleep much either."

"Do I look such a hag?" she parried, with an attempt at lightness.

Mike sighed. "You don't look a hag at all, and you know it. But you and I know one another quite well, Helen, and I know that something - or someone - is eating you up."

Helen reached for her tea. "It's been a long winter."

"Has it? I hadn't noticed."

"No, well, you have your work, haven't you?"

"All right." Mike began to drink his own tea. "If you'd rather not talk about it..."

Helen rested her elbows on the table, cupping her chin in her hands. "I didn't say that, exactly."

"So you admit - something is wrong?"

Helen nodded slowly. "I suppose so."

"It's a man, isn't it?" Mike's mouth was drawn down at the corners.

"Sort of." Helen didn't quite know how to answer him. "Mike, you know that Daddy - I mean, you know our parents expect us to get married, don't you?"

"Of course."

"And you've guessed - at least, you must know that I -well, that I don't want to many you."

Mike inclined his head. "It's pretty obvious even to me."

"Oh, Mike!" Helen looked at him regretfully. "You're so - nice! I wish I did love you. How much simpler life would be."

Mike shook his head. "Life is seldom simple, Helen. And I'm sure that's just a euphemistic way of letting me down."

"Perhaps it is." Helen put her hand over his on the table. "But you are nice - and kind - and understanding."

"What a shattering submission!" Mike grimaced.

"You know what I mean."

"I'm afraid I do. In other words, I don't turn you on. But someone else does, is that what you're trying to say? "

Helen looked down at his slim white hand, so different from Dominic's hard brown fingers. "Yes," she said at last. "That's what I'm trying to say."

"So that week you were away - you were with this man?"

"I - met him while I was away," Helen amended quietly.

"I see." Mike frowned. "And your father doesn't want you to have anything to do with him, is that it? "

"Heavens, no! Nothing like that." Helen withdrew her fingers, clenching her hands tightly together. "My father knows nothing about it. And I don't want you to tell him."

"Why not?"

"Because - oh, because he would never understand."

"Why? Who is this man? What do you know about him? Where does he live?"

"Oh, Mike, please." Helen shook her head. "You're beginning to sound just like Daddy."

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