Legacy Of The Past. Anne Mather
rounded and not angular. All in all, she reflected, she was an average, presentable female, but certainly not outstanding in any way.
Now the man, she sighed, he had been outstanding, in every way. She felt sure that dozens of women must have thought so too. After all, in his income bracket, if women were rather dull or drab, their beauty parlour, hair-stylist and plastic surgeon could soon remedy that. From the rather world-weary cynicism she had seen round his eyes and his mouth, he was all too bored with his life and well aware of his own magnetism.
Madeline grimaced at herself in the mirror, amused at her own thoughts. Good heavens, she was behaving like a child, simply because she had happened to meet a man who without question was way out of her sphere!
She slipped her arms into a quilted housecoat and as she buttoned it she pushed all thoughts of the man out of her mind. No matter how she felt, Diana was always her first consideration. Poor Diana, who after all had never really recovered from the shock of losing Joe when she was just seven years old.
As she merged from the bedroom, a key in the lock heralded the arrival of her daughter. Diana breezed in cheerfully enough, a slender, younger edition of Madeline except that her hair was dark brown. Diana was sixteen, and at the commercial college in Otterbury. She was often late home at present as the college was rehearsing for its end of term play and Diana had a starring role. They were performing a play written by another of the students and it was to be staged in the college hall with the proceeds going to local charities.
Diana was not as tall as Madeline and wore her hair fashionably long. Dressed in a dark grey duffel coat and swinging a tartan bag, she was a typical teenager.
‘Hello, Mum,’ she greeted Madeline, flinging her bag on to a chair, ‘Isn’t it cold tonight? I’m freezing!’
Madeline nodded. ‘Yes, it’s not much like spring,’ she agreed. ‘Did you have a good rehearsal?’
‘So-so,’ replied Diana, indifferently. ‘Miss Hawkes always tries to run the affair like a military tattoo, but apart from that it was all right. It seems such an uproar I’m sure it will never come right.’
Madeline chuckled. ‘It will on the night, I’m sure. Never mind, it will soon be over. Term ends in three weeks, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, thank goodness. Gosh, then we’ll have two whole weeks with nothing to do! It will be glorious!’
Madeline smiled and went into the kitchen. As she prepared the vegetables and put the chops under the grill she decided not to say anything to Diana about falling off the scooter. After all, no harm had been done and Diana often said that Madeline ought to use the bus during peak traffic hours. Diana was a little possessive about her mother at times, probably due to the fact that she was her only relative, and Madeline did not want to cause her any more worry.
They had their dinner in the lounge. One end had been converted into a dining recess by the addition of a velvet curtain, shielding the table from view. Diana set the table while Madeline dished up the meal and they sat together afterwards, idly watching the television while Madeline had a cigarette with her coffee.
‘Shall I wash up?’ asked Diana, stretching lazily. ‘Is Uncle Adrian coming round tonight?’
‘I think Adrian’s coming and I should be grateful if you would do the washing up. I want to change into something more suitable.’
Diana smiled and rose to her feet and Madeline looked at her queryingly.
‘Are … are you going out tonight?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Why, yes. Jeff asked me to go to the Seventies Club.’
‘Oh!’ Madeline nodded.
‘Do you mind?’
Madeline ran a tongue over her lips. ‘No. No. Why should I?’
‘No reason, but I’ve noticed you don’t really enthuse about my going out with him.’
Madeline half-smiled. ‘I’m sorry, darling. Of course you must go.’
Diana shrugged. ‘Well, it’s something to do,’ she said lightly.
‘Yes. Besides, Adrian will probably be round later. He said he had some marking to do, but I guess he’ll find time,’ Madeline smiled wryly.
‘He always finds time for you,’ murmured Diana slyly.
Madeline compressed her lips. ‘Yes, that may be so. But that means nothing, Diana, absolutely nothing.’
Diana shrugged regretfully and began carrying the dishes through to the kitchen. Madeline stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and walked through to the bedroom. She was becoming a little tired of Diana’s insinuations about herself and Adrian. Truthfully they were insinuations based on fact, but Madeline had no wish to make insinuations reality.
As she dressed in dark blue stretch slacks and an Italian silk over-blouse, she found herself wishing, not for the first time, that Joe was still alive. Diana was growing up now and becoming quite a responsibility in many ways. Also, she had worshipped Joe and he had adored her. He had been a bachelor for so many years before he married Madeline and he had found Diana utterly irresistible. Madeline wondered now whether her marrying Joe had precipitated his condition. He had certainly had more responsibilities and had worked hard in the years following their wedding. But his illness had been incurable, and the doctors had told her numerous times that she had made his last years happy ones.
She decided to leave her hair loose and emerged from the bedroom looking youthfully attractive. Diana was touching up her make-up with a deft hand. She wore only dark eyeshadow and lipstick, her olive skin not requiring any further cosmetic.
She looked critically over her shoulder at her mother.
‘Does Uncle Adrian approve of slacks?’ she asked pointedly.
Madeline looked amused. ‘I can hardly see how it matters,’ she answered lightly. ‘I’m wearing them, not Uncle Adrian.’
‘I know, but honestly, Mum, you’ll probably marry him one day and then you really will have to dress more in keeping with your position.’
‘My dear Diana, I have no intention of marrying Uncle Adrian. I’ve told him, and incidentally you, so a hundred times. Heavens, I’m thirty-three, not fifty-three, and although I’m sure it seems a great age to you, I don’t intend taking to my rocking chair yet.’
Diana frowned. ‘Uncle Adrian is no older than Daddy, would have been had he—’ She halted.
‘Oh, darling, I know. But that was different.’
‘How?’
Madeline glanced at her watch. ‘Isn’t it time you were going?’
Her daughter shrugged. ‘I suppose so. Okay, suit yourself.’ She pulled on the duffel coat. ‘I’ll go, then.’
‘All right, darling. Look after yourself.’
Diana kissed her mother’s cheek and whirled out of the flat. Madeline walked into the kitchen. Evidences of Diana’s hasty washing-up session were to be found on the floor which was almost swimming with water. The dish-mop was soaking and causing a wet stain to trickle over the window ledge and down the tiles to the sink.
Madeline squeezed out the dish-mop and taking the large mop she soaked up the water from the floor, wiping clean the parquet flooring. Then she put away the dishes which Diana had left on the bench, and returned to the lounge.
She had just settled herself in front of the television when the door bell pealed.
Lazily, she rose to her feet and padded to the door. Opening it, she found Adrian Sinclair waiting to be admitted.
Adrian was a tall lean man in his early fifties. Twenty years older than Madeline and a bachelor, he found his secretary utterly charming and desirable and all his hitherto undisturbed feelings were being violently churned by her apparent lack of romantic interest in