The Man in Possession Read Online Free PDF

than my secretary. That suit you? ’
    ‘ Why yes—In that case, I ’ ll go through the mail. But I ’ ll leave any important ones for you to see and sign, and if there are any queries— ’
    ‘ Yes, yes, ’ he said briskly, going to the door.
    ‘ Mr. Leighton— ’ she called out, ‘I usually make coffee in the houseboat about eleven. Will you—join me? ’
    ‘ Yes, ’ he said. ‘ Yes, all right. ’
    He shut the door behind him and she gazed at it half smiling, half puzzled. He was by no means an easy man, and she had a feeling there would often be a clash of wills between them, if she worked for him. But she was sure life would never be dull or boring.
    She started on the mail and screwed up an envelope to drop it into the waste-paper basket. But her glance caught the sheet of crumpled paper on which he had been doodling. Suddenly curious, she took it out and smoothed it open. It was not so much a doodle as a very good drawing of a head.
    The head of a very beautiful woman.
    Julia stared at the drawing. This was someone he knew, she felt sure of it. Perhaps it wasn ’ t a quarrel with his father which had led him to leave the firm. Perhaps it was a broken love affair. Men must suffer in that way just as women did. It was nonsense to suppose they didn ’ t. And sometimes the only way to forget was to remove oneself from the scene which made it impossible or difficult. It was just the opposite with herself. She did not want memories of David to fade. They were far too precious to her.
    She crumpled the doodle-drawing up again slowly and dropped it back into the waste-paper basket. She finished opening the mail and made some pencilled notes on each of them, then put on her sheepskin jacket and trudged through the snow to her houseboat.
    Ten minutes later as the coffee was percolating she saw the shadow of Mr. Leighton pass one of the windows.
    ‘ Smells wonderful, ’ he said, as she opened the door to him.
    ‘D o you like it black or white? ’
    ‘ Black, please, ’ he said, peeling off his tall rubber boots.
    He looked round appreciatively as he entered the saloon with its studio couch, the cottage armchairs she had bought herself, the folding table and two dining chairs.
    ‘ This is different from the other houseboats, ’ he said. ‘It hasn ’ t a sun-deck or walk around verandah. I ’ ve just been having a look at some of them. ’
    ‘It is different, ’ she affirmed. ‘ This was actually designed for comfort—for winter bookings, in fact. ’
    ‘ Winter bookings? ’ he echoed. ‘ Surely— ’
    ‘ You ’ d be surprised. We ’ ve had bookings in November—even Christmas. It sleeps four. There ’ s a two - berth cabin the other side of the galley, and of course the studio couch makes a double bed. ’
    ‘ May I see around ?’ he asked.
    ‘ Of course. ’
    He slid past her to the sleeping cabin as she lifted the coffee from the cooker. She took cups and saucers into the saloon and set out cheese and biscuits.
    ‘ Who designed it? ’ he asked, coming into the saloon again and dropping on to the couch.
    ‘Mr . —Hargreaves ’ son, ’ she told him, pushing the table close to where he was sitting.
    He eyed her intently. ‘ Did you know him? ’
    ‘ Yes, I knew him. Sugar, Mr. Leighton? ’
    He scooped up four spoonfuls of the Demerara sugar.
    ‘ And have some cheese and a biscuit, ’ she added.
    She sat on one of the dining chairs and pulled it up to the table. It was odd, this feeling of not wanting to talk about David, especially as he still seemed so close to her. But somehow, his father and herself had never talked about him either. They had no need to. Each had known instinctively that David was never far from either of their thoughts. And now she supposed she wanted to keep David to herself.
    ‘ How long have you been living in here? ’ asked the new owner of Wingcraft.
    ‘Oh, ever since— ’ she began without thinking, then broke off and ended: ‘About seven or eight