Shroud of Silence Read online

  She helped me fetch my luggage from the hall and then left me to change,

  “Come downstairs when you’re ready, Kim, and do make yourself at home. I’ll be around somewhere.”

  I chose a cocktailish sort of dress in bright lime green—not too mini, but not too much either. It boosted my confidence against any hard selling that lay ahead. Not that I was trying to compete with Corinne. I couldn’t. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. The Corinnes of this world don’t like competition, and I wanted her to like me—as far as she’d ever like another woman.

  I clipclopped my way down those barren stairs and wandered into the drawing room. It was empty. Gwen, I guessed, was right this minute in private session with Jane’s parents. Soon they would be coming to find me; either to ask me to stay and work on their daughter, or to give me a polite brush-off.

  The sun, much lower now, still flooded the room with red golden light. I stepped through the open French windows out to the terrace, but the cooling September air nipped my arms just enough to urge me straight back.

  A new voice halted me with a greeting that had all the overtones of an astonished wolf whistle.

  “Well, hello.” The half-closed eyes that matched the voice surveyed me slowly, up and down. Unpeeled me, savored me, and appeared to approve.

  I covered my nakedness in a babble of words. “It looked so lovely out here, but actually it’s rather chilly ....”

  His hair had reddish glints, and that clued me in more than any particular facial resemblance. Corinne’s brother, I’d take a bet. He was certainly a fabulous looker—far too much for his own good. His type reckon that one glance is enough to slay any woman.

  But I wasn’t nearly dead yet.

  Lounged in one of the garden chairs, he came up slowly. He seemed to go on forever—six foot three or four, maybe.

  “If you’re cold, then let’s get acquainted indoors.” He prompted me with a hand that hovered calculated millimeters from my bare shoulder. I could feel sparks bridging the gap.

  Inside, he gave me a slow, lazy smile. “Let me get you a drink.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What shall it be?”

  “A martini, please. Not too dry,”

  He went over to a drinks cupboard and started sorting out bottles. “I like a woman to know her own mind,” he remarked.

  “Oh, I always do.”

  He stopped in mid-pour and looked round at me, “Always?”

  Damn him.” He was forcing me to look away. I made a business of sitting down, but he knew he’d won the round.

  He brought my drink over and presented it to me. “I’m Felix Harper, by the way.”

  “Mrs. Barrington’s brother?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That’s right. And you?”

  “My name’s Kim Bennett.”

  “Kim Bennett....” he mused. “Am I supposed to know you?”

  “Not really,” I said uncomfortably. “I’m ... I’m a friend of Gwen’s.”

  Gwen came in briskly, and I was glad of the interruption. She was still wearing the tweed suit she’d traveled down in. “Ah good, drinks. So you two have introduced yourselves?”

  I was expecting some sort of sign from her, but none came. While Felix was fixing her up with a straight gin, I whispered: “Well, what did they say? How did they dike it?”

  Gwen answered me in her normal voice—a muted bellow. “How did who take what, dear?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said weakly.

  So she still hadn’t spoken to Jane’s parents! I wished she’d get some skates under her. It was hellishly embarrassing for me, and a ridiculous waste of time, too. If I was going to try and help Jane I wanted to get started with the preliminaries; asking questions, explaining what I needed in terms of the family’s cooperation.

  Annoyed with Gwen, I made conversation elsewhere. “Are you staying at Mildenhall for the weekend, Mr. Harper?”

  “I only answer to the name of Felix.”

  Gwen was spluttering into her drink. “Staying for the weekend? That’s a laugh. Our Felix lives here—and Corinne’s sister Verity as well.” She looked up at him with a grinning malevolence. “You two are on to an easy billet, aren’t you?”

  “Aren’t we all?” he said with pointed irony. “Aren’t we all?”

  Her grin vanished. She flushed with quick-firing anger. “Now you look here, Felix ....”

  “I’d much rather go on looking at Kim,” he whipped back at her. “Statistically she’s a lot more rewarding.”

  If Gwen had a counterblast to that, she didn’t need to use it. Tansy came dithering in, looking lost. Then she brightened.

  “Oh, I know what it was I wanted to say. Dinner will be half an hour early tonight. About half-past seven.”

  “What’s that in aid of?” asked Felix. “Is the boss man going out or something?”

  “Oh no, it’s not Drew,” Tansy fluttered. “It’s just Miss Pink. There’s a program she specially doesn’t want to miss.”

  Felix turned to me. “You may think it odd that an entire household should revolve round the idiot-box fancies of a servant. But this one does. Drew was fool enough to give her a set for her birthday.”

  “Now don’t be unkind, Felix dear,” said Tansy mildly. “It’s such a comfort to her.”

  Dinner time arrived, and still nothing had been said about me. I was feeling slightly desperate, because I’d have to act my way through a farce, digging an even greater hole for myself as just a weekend guest of Gwen’s. It would look odder than ever when at last Drew and Corinne Barrington were told about the speech-therapy angle.

  Verity Harper came strolling into the room. Facially she was quite unlike Corinne, yet she too had a tall slim grace and unbelievably marvelous looks. All three of the Harper family—Corinne, Verity and brother Felix, were variations on the same striking theme; and Number One, I guessed, counted first and foremost with each of them. Always.

  In contrast to Corinne’s strapless black chiffon, Verity had made no attempt to dress up for dinner. She wore an off-white, pants suit with a red-spotted scarf tucked in at the neck. Her strawberry-blonde hair made the total effect close to sensational. Toward me, she was ready enough to be friendly in a casual sort of way.

  Drew joined us at the last minute, just as we were going into the dining room. He had changed into a dark suit and crisp white shirt. But the face was the same—worried, withdrawn. Lonely, I thought.

  I soon found there was nothing of the comfortable family dinner party about this gathering. The conversation was largely between Corinne, Verity and Felix, an exchange of snide taunts. Only when Gwen barged in was there any sense of unity among the three Harpers. They joined forces briefly in order to flatten her, for nothing more than the sheer hell of it, as far as I could see.

  Tansy didn’t really settle at the table. She kept dithering in and out of the room, “Just giving Miss Pink a bit of a hand,” as she put it apologetically each time she fluttered off.

  In the master’s chair, Drew Barrington seemed entirely oblivious to the various cross tensions. He tackled his meal without interest, ignoring the talk in favor of his own somber thoughts.

  Until, that is, Gwen threw in her hand grenade.

  Unbelievably inept, she mentioned the fact that I was a speech the therapist, and then announced baldly: “She’s going to have a go with little Jane.”

  Drew broke surface at once. Putting down his knife and fork, he stared at his aunt incredulously.

  “I beg your pardon, Gwen?”

  She blundered on, quite unaware of the sudden electric atmosphere. “A wonderful stroke of luck, wasn’t it? When Kim came to see me after Hilary died, I got to telling her about our Janey. She was so positive that something could be done for the poor child that I persuaded her to come down here and do her stuff.”

  “Oh, but it wasn’t quite like that,” I muttered wretchedly. Right then I longed for a small hole to crawl into.

  Drew’s head turned sl
owly in my direction; so slowly that I thought his eyes would never get around to meeting mine.

  “It’s very kind of you, Miss ... er ... Bennett, but...”

  Go on, I thought, why not say it? But what the devil is it to do with you?

  He was far too polite for that. Instead he said stiffly, “We can hardly presume upon your kindness. You’ll have your own work to attend to.”

  “Look,” I said desperately, “will you please let me explain how it happened ....”

  He cut in on me, a shade less polite now. “I think I should explain to you, Miss Bennett, that however much it might appear to the contrary, we do in fact have Jane’s interests very much at heart.”

  “I’m sure you do, Mr. Barrington, and Gwen suggested ….”

  “We have already taken advice on the matter of her speech defect,” he went on with chilling smoothness, “and we have been advised that Jane is too young for treatment as yet.”

  “Who on earth told you a thing like that?” The words were out before I could gag them.

  Drew kept hold of his fraying patience, but allowed me to see the effort it cost him.

  “My wife consulted a highly qualified man.”

  I glanced towards Corinne and saw her flush beginning, spreading as I watched. Was it just anger at my uninvited interference?

  If the subject could only be allowed a quick and decent death, I thought despairingly, there might still be a chance of salvage. I could have a quiet talk with Drew and his wife later on, just the three of us. I’d apologize for the bad beginning, and perhaps start afresh.

  Alternatively, I could abandon the whole project here and now. I need simply say that there had obviously been a regrettable misunderstanding, and bow myself out with a remnant of dignity left.

  Temptation nearly won me over. I had an almighty urge to get away from Mildenhall tomorrow morning, and thereafter forget the Barringtons even so much as existed.

  But I’d not be able to forget little Jane. I’d never escape the memory of her anxious face, those sad brown eyes. Jane was a challenge to me.

  The whole peculiar set-up here was a challenge.

  Inevitably, Verity and Felix had scented a situation that could neatly be worked up to sizzling heat. They began to worry at it, making sure it didn’t have a chance to cool down.

  With an air of guileless interest, Felix commented, “It seems, Kim, you don’t agree that Jane is too young for therapeutic treatment?”

  “Well...” I began cautiously, noting Drew’s rock-set face. “I suppose opinions differ to some extent.”

  “That obviously explains it,” said Corinne quickly, in a small voice. Her color was still abnormally high.

  “Just exactly how is opinion divided?” asked Verity with superb innocence. “Are there two schools of thought on the question of early training?”

  Presumably trying to be helpful, Gwen put in, “Kim ought to know what she’s talking about. She was trained by one of the top men in America, and she’s been working over there in his clinic.”

  Tansy had been fussing around with dishes on the sideboard. She turned to gaze at me with moistly shining eyes.

  “And you gave up your career to come home because your poor sister was taken ill. How wonderful of you, Kim.”

  “I didn’t exactly give it up,” I said uncomfortably, “It was my intention to start working over here as soon as I could fit things in with Hilary’s needs. Now, of course ...”

  In a sugar-sweet voice, Verity said, “I suppose it’s put you in a bit of a spot? I mean, suddenly having to find another job in such an out-of-the-way line as yours.”

  “I’m thinking of going back to the United States,” I replied levelly. “There’s nothing to keep me in England now.”

  Feeling hounded, I looked towards the head of the table. But there was no help from Drew. His cold eyes were inquiring why I didn’t get up and go, then.

  Lamely, I finished: “Dr. Jacobson—he’s the head of the clinic where I worked—said he’d be glad to have me back any time.”

  “How nice,” drawled Felix, “to feel so wanted.”

  That overstepped the limit of my tolerance. Quite suddenly I’d had enough. I owed this family nothing, and they chose to be appallingly rude. Well, then, I could be rude back.

  I looked squarely into Felix’s mocking eyes. “Yes, it is nice to feel wanted, Mr. Harper. An experience you may perhaps have missed.”

  For the moment I’d silenced him. I’d silenced them all. Staring down at my plate I forked up some creamed potato, and mutinously chewed as though it were old motor tire.

  Long slow seconds ticked by. I kept my eyes down, wondering what was going on above my head. Meaningful glances? Shrugging eyebrows? No doubt Verity and Felix had concluded I was too hot to handle, but what did the others think?

  The voice that broke the silent was, unexpectedly, Drew’s. Speaking very quietly, he said, “Won’t you tell us what you’d suggest doing about Jane, Miss Bennett?”

  Chapter Three

  If for one happy moment I thought I’d won Drew Barrington over, I soon realized my error. He wasn’t inviting me to stay on at Mildenhall and help his daughter. He was asking my opinion merely to patch over a nasty moment at his dinner table.

  But at least his question gave me an opportunity to put forward my point of view.

  Nobody else breathed a word. Even Gwen, I think, recognized that a crackerjack explosion had been close. She looked from Drew to me and waited.

  I hesitated.

  Asked like that, bluntly, what I would suggest doing about little Jane, I faced the difficulty of getting the message across in a few words. Dare I say straight out that it wasn’t so much a matter of what I as a therapist could do, but what they as her family were willing to do? Dare I tell these people that their own attitude towards Jane had been largely responsible for her stammer? Maybe entirely responsible.

  Because I was undecided how to begin, I made a hash of it. “As far as I can see, there’s really nothing wrong with Jane’s speech....”

  “Nothing wrong!” Drew exclaimed impatiently. “Have you heard my daughter trying to talk, Miss Bennett?”

  “Oh yes, indeed I have. I fully realize what a distressing stammer she’s got. But what I meant was, there’s unlikely to be anything physically wrong with her actual speech mechanism.”

  He at least made a show of considering this. “I don’t think we ever imagined there was anything physically wrong,” he said carefully. “Presumably it’s a nervous or emotional condition.”

  Tansy fluttered, “The poor little mite has always stammered. Always.”

  “But has she? Are you quite certain of that?”

  “Why, yes ...”

  Drew nodded in confirmation. “I can’t remember her ever speaking in a normal way.”

  I was on safe ground now. I’d been through this conversation many times before. Looking around the table I put a general question.

  “Have you ever listened to a toddler talking? I mean, really listened?”

  “Why, of course ...” they chorused.

  Then Drew asked, “What is it that you’re driving at, Miss Bennett?”

  “Well, take a two-year-old, for instance. Would you expect a child of that age to talk fluently, without hesitations and repetitions?”

  “No ... I suppose not.”

  “Their speech is all stops and starts. They say the same word over and over, and keep breaking off to begin again.”

  “Well,” said Tansy, bounding to the defense of babyhood. “Poor little things. You can’t expect anything else. Not until they’ve been taught.”

  I smiled at her because she meant well. “The art of fluent speech is not an easy thing for children to achieve, you know. And they have to be left to take it at their own pace. They must not be rushed. They’re always very quick to detect the least hint of criticism or anxiety from their parents and the other adults around them, and this only aggravates their difficulties.”
/>   Corinne broke her long silence to pick me up belligerently. “Are you suggesting we shouldn’t correct our own children?”

  She glanced at her brother and sister for applause. They responded with covert amusement.

  Probably Drew was afraid that I might be indiscreet again. Before I could answer Corinne, he cut in, “I think I can see what Miss Bennett is getting at. Perhaps we have been a little overanxious about Jane, and she has reacted to our concern.”

  “That’s exactly it,” I said warmly.

  I’d have added it up rather differently myself, of course. Their barely concealed impatience would have come into it, a lack of any real interest in what the child had to say. But at least we had a starting point of understanding.

  Following Drew’s lead, they gave me a hearing. I tried to explain that above all Jane had to be treated as a normal child. She was a normal child. By now, unfortunately, her stammering had become hardened into a deep-rooted habit, and like all problem habits, it couldn’t be despatched overnight.

  “It will need a lot of effort and patience on Jane’s part. But I’ve got a box of tricks up my sleeve that will help. And with your cooperation ...”

  I dried up. I’d been allowing enthusiasm to run away with me, taking their consent for granted.

  “You’ve simply got to let Kim have a try,” Gwen instructed them loudly. “You’d never be able to forgive yourselves for not taking a heaven sent chance like this.”

  I wished Gwen had not shoved her tactless foot in it yet again. Corinne looked daggers. But I think she sensed, as I did, that her husband was veering towards a more favorable attitude.

  He was staring in my direction; beyond me, right through me. And then slowly his eyes focussed on mine.

  “Of course, it would have to be on a proper basis....”

  This gave Corinne a chance for a sharp dig at me without actually crossing Drew. “Naturally, Miss Bennett would expect a salary,” She turned to grant me a condescending smile. “We quite understand that speech therapy is your bread and butter. You would be engaged on proper terms, just like any other employee.”