The Runaway Visitors Read Online Free PDF Page A

to her from time to time? She went into the kitchen with a cold and reserved air, put the tray down on the table and said coolly: ‘Thank you, Miss Jameson, it was very kind of you,’ and walked straight out again. But not quickly enough to escape Miss Jameson’s comment, delivered after a peculiar little snort: ‘Ice maiden—that’s just about right! ’
    Victoria prepared very carefully for luncheon. She still wore her sea-green dress, but she removed the sea-green ribbon from her hair, brushed it until it shone more than ever, and left it lying on her shoulders. She made up her face very carefully, and she wore her gold sandals that were little more than a few thongs woven together. Sebastien whistled when he saw her. Miss Jameson, setting cutlery and folding napkins in the dining room, raised her eyebrows and followed Victoria round the room with her eyes.
    After a few moments, Victoria realised that Miss Jameson was prolonging her trifling tasks to take as long as possible; refolding already folded napkins, adjusting the well-laid cutlery and rearranging the white lilies and green leaves in the centre of the table: certainly not improving them in the process. So she was indulging her mordant curiosity to see what would happen when her employer encountered his guests for the first time. Victoria was on her guard more than ever.
    ‘Isn’t this a gorgeous room?’ said Amanda, who was most impressed with the whole house.
    ‘If you like a great slab of glass for a table, and steel and leather chairs and huge modern paintings, I suppose it is,’ Victoria answered.
    ‘I think it’s super,’ said Sebastien.
    ‘I’m glad you do,’ said the deep voice which Victoria immediately recognised, and Charles Duncan came into the room, casually dressed in fawn trousers and a thin, loosely-fitting pullover in sky blue. ‘I’m afraid I’m a bit late,’ he added, and it did not sound at all like an apology, but as if he expected people to understand immediately if he were late.
    ‘Well, Mr. Duncan,’ said Miss Jameson, ‘meet the new arrivals.
    The Fenn children. This is Amanda, and this Sebastien, and here
    is the eldest, Victoria.’ His eyes went from one to the other, becoming suddenly aware as they rested on Victoria.
    ‘Amanda,’ he said, offering her his hand. ‘How do you do? And Sebastien,’ shaking hands with him. ‘Victoria I have already met,’ he said, and looked into her eyes and met there a coldness, a withdrawal that checked his friendly overture. ‘Well, Jeanie,’ he went on, with scarcely a pause, ‘now that I am here, perhaps you’ll serve the lunch.’
    So Miss Jameson left reluctantly for her kitchen and Charles arranged his guests round the vastly expensive table. Victoria could not help thinking of the sophisticated guests he would normally entertain there, and his words recurred in her mind over and over again. ‘Have I got to be lumbered with juveniles every day for lunch?’ She heard his polite questions to Sebastien, and heard Sebastien telling him how he had been looking forward to going to camp. ‘A group of us were going to Snowdonia for rock climbing,’ he said, ‘and a famous rock-climber was coming to give us instruction. ’
    ‘You’ll be sorry to miss that,’ said Charles, and Sebastien replied fervently: ‘You bet I am.’
    ‘Well, I’m missing my ballet classes,’ said Amanda, not to be outdone.
    ‘And what is Victoria missing?’ asked Charles, looking at her, at the burnished hair and the cool elegance, and the kind of complexion, delicate rose-petal, that only England or the most expensive make-up could produce. ‘Or perhaps it should be not what is Victoria missing, but who?’
    She evaded that easily enough.
    ‘You don’t want to hear our life stories, Mr. Duncan,’ she said. ‘And most people would think we were not missing anything, but gaining a great deal, to be able to spend a summer in such a beautiful house in such a beautiful