Witchstone. Anne MatherЧитать онлайн книгу.
her oval face. Then she perched on the edge of one of the draining units and said: ‘Yes, I told her.’
‘And what did she say?’ Mona stopped what she was doing to look at her.
Ashley shrugged. ‘I think she was disappointed.’
‘Oh, Ashley!’
‘Well, I know she hoped I’d go on to university——’
‘So why don’t you?’ Mona stared at her.
Ashley bent her head. ‘Do you want me to?’
‘Love, it’s not for me to say. It’s what you want to do that matters. You know there’s no question of a money problem. The money your father left is more than enough to pay for your education——’
‘I know,’ Ashley sighed.
‘Don’t you want a career?’
‘Being a librarian is a career.’
‘I know that. But, Ashley, you’re only seventeen and already you’ve got three “A” levels. That means something.’
‘It means I swotted harder than everyone else …’
‘No, it doesn’t.’ Mona wiped her hands on her apron. ‘It means that you’ve got a damn good brain. And I know your father would expect you to use it to your best advantage.’
‘Yes, my father would,’ Ashley nodded. Then she looked at her aunt. ‘Aunt Mona, will you tell me something?’
‘If I can.’
‘Why—why did I never see you in—in those years after—after Mummy died?’
Mona sighed. ‘Oh, I don’t know. We lived so far apart, I suppose,’ she said quickly.
‘Was that all it was?’
‘What else could there be?’
‘I’m asking you, Aunt Mona.’
Mona looked uncomfortable now. ‘Ashley, it’s all in the past, and your father’s dead——’
‘So?’
‘Oh, child!’ Mona made a helpless gesture. ‘Your father was a good man. He did his best for you. He did his best for Delia—your mother.’ She paused. ‘But—well, he was a possessive man. At least so far as Delia was concerned. She and I—well, we’d been pretty close before she got married, but afterwards—your father didn’t encourage us to meet. He wanted her all to himself.’ She shook her head. ‘Then they had you. I thought that would make a difference, but it didn’t. Your lives and ours rarely crossed. When Delia died, we did meet. We came to the funeral, as you know. We wanted to help him then—we even offered to have you if it would help at all. But he was furious at the suggestion. He said that you and he would manage, and I’m afraid he became as possessive with you as he had been with Delia.’
‘And yet he never really wanted me around,’ murmured Ashley wonderingly.
‘Selfish people are sometimes like that,’ said Mona quietly.
‘Yes.’ Ashley understood now.
Mona frowned. ‘Ashley, tell me honestly—what do you want to do? About going to university, I mean.’
Ashley looked up. ‘Honestly?’ And at her aunt’s nod, she went on: ‘I want to stay here, with you—with Uncle David—with Mark and Karen. I—I don’t want to go away.’
‘Oh, Ashley!’ Mona came towards her, putting her hands on the girl’s shoulders. ‘Do you mean that?’
‘You’ve all been so kind to me,’ Ashley explained gently. ‘I love being here. I feel—at home.’
‘This is your home.’
‘So I’d rather get a job in Bewford and stay here.’
‘But Bewford County Library isn’t the same as working in some big complex——’
‘It doesn’t matter. I’ve always wanted to do library work, and if it doesn’t work out—well, I can always go to university later, can’t I? There’s plenty of time.’
Mona nodded, her eyes unusually bright. ‘Of course there is, love,’ she agreed, turning away. Then, more briskly: ‘Now, are you going to go and change out of those school clothes before tea?’
Ashley straightened. ‘What time are we eating?’
Mona shook her head. ‘Food again!’ she scolded, good-naturedly. ‘Well, let’s see. It’s half past four at present. I think I should have it on the table for five o’clock. Then your uncle can enjoy his meal before opening up. Mark won’t be in until later. He said he wanted to go up to the Hall before coming home.’
Ashley nodded, moving towards the door into the hall. Mark was employed by the Setons who lived at Bewford Hall. They were the largest landowners in the district. County people, Aunt Mona called them, but she said it with a trace of affection. Like everyone else in Bewford they were concerned with the affairs of the community, a situation which Ashley sometimes found hard to accept, coming as she did from a district in London where it was possible not to know one’s next door neighbour.
The staircase to the upper floor of the Golden Lion was narrow and twisting, and led to a landing from which all the bedroom doors opened. Once the small hotel had catered for an occasional paying guest, but in recent years the Suttons had needed all the rooms for their own use.
Ashley shared Karen’s room. It was the largest of the bedrooms, the only one in fact which could accommodate twin beds. She had at first expected some resentment from her cousin, but fortunately Karen wasn’t like that. She was a gregarious sort of girl, open and friendly, glad of someone of a similar age to talk to, and it was Ashley who sometimes wished that Karen went to bed to sleep instead of to gossip into the small hours.
Karen was a couple of years older than Ashley, but without her academic ability. She had left school at sixteen and now worked in the Post Office. She had a steady stream of boy-friends, most of whom Ashley had only heard about, although she had met Frank Coulter, the man of the moment. He worked in the local garage and had the reputation of being the local Casanova. From the first, Ashley had disliked him, although she had to admit that part of her repugnance towards him was due to the fact that he had once attempted to make a pass at her when Karen was out of the room. She had been quite angry at the time, and she hoped Karen would soon find someone more reliable.
Ashley had friends of her own at school, of both sexes, but no one special. She wasn’t interested in the casual physical relationships indulged in by most of the girls she knew, and found more enjoyment in books and music than petting on some street corner.
In the bedroom she stripped off the navy skirt and cardigan, the white blouse and navy and red striped tie which formed the uniform of Bewford Grammar School before rummaging through a drawer and pulling out a pair of shabby jeans and a scarlet sweater. The jeans accentuated the slenderness of her body, the curving length of her legs, while the ribbed sweater drew attention to the rounded swell of her breasts.
As she brushed her hair, she pulled a face at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. She was used to her appearance and saw no particular virtue in long, slightly slanted green eyes or a warm, beautiful mouth with a full lower lip. She secured the heavy swathe of hair with two elastic bands so that a coil fell over either shoulder and then with a shrug turned towards the door.
Her aunt was in the dining room laying the table for their evening meal, and Ashley automatically took the cutlery from her and began setting the places. Her aunt smiled and took the opportunity to relax for a moment, lighting one of the infrequent cigarettes she smoked throughout the day. She was throwing the match into the grate when her husband came through from the bar.
‘Well, well,’ he remarked mockingly. ‘Is this all you’ve got to do?’
David Sutton was a