Moon Witch. Anne Mather
‘Jarrod will be consulted, of course,’ said J.K. irritably. He did not like to be thwarted, or argued with.
‘How thoughtful of you, J.K.!’ The sardonic voice brought them all to their feet, facing Jarrod Kyle, who had entered silently, and was standing leaning against the door, looking cold and arrogant. He straightened, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and allowing his penetrating blue gaze to rest momentarily on each of them. ‘It’s good of you to consider my feelings, J.K. Extraordinarily good of you!’ The sarcasm was very evident. ‘The point you all seem to be missing is that by accepting any part of this will, one automatically accepts all of it.’ He allowed this to have effect before continuing: ‘In other words, Miss Robins has a meal ticket for life, and there’s nothing any of you can do about it.’
‘That’s terrible!’ exclaimed Sara, staring at him.
‘Yes, terrible,’ said J.K. angrily. ‘You’re talking arrant nonsense, Jarrod. At the most we are responsible for Sara until she is eighteen. After that, even should she want to, which I for one don’t believe, she couldn’t make any claims against us!’
‘Oh no?’ Jarrod gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Do you honestly imagine you could get away with—well, refusing to support someone who on your own admission had been supported by you for the last year? My God, J.K.! There are times when I think you’ve reached your dotage. What’s happened to that cold business brain you always used to pride yourself on possessing?’
‘Obviously I’ve passed it on to you to add to the one you already had!’ exclaimed J.K. furiously. ‘How dare you stand there abusing a visitor in your house!’
‘Abusing!’ Jarrod gave a short laugh. ‘Abusing!’ He shook his head. ‘I haven’t abused anyone. I’m merely stating the facts as I see them. Unlike you, my vision is not clouded by emotion!’
Sara was shaking visibly now. She had never before been a party to such suppressed violence as Jarrod Kyle was displaying. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘Please, don’t say any more, any of you! I—I don’t want to hear it! I’m sorry—I’m sorry!’
She brushed past Jarrod and jerked open the library door, rushing out into the hall, not knowing where she was going, only wanting to escape. Morris was bringing the tray of tea and halted in surprise.
‘Why, Miss Robins, where are you going?’
‘Will—will you get my coat, please?’ asked Sara, glancing about desperately. ‘I’m—I’m going home.’
‘Don’t bother, Morris,’ said J.K.’s voice behind her. ‘Sara, Sara, what can I say? You must not allow my son to intimidate you. He—well, he has to be hard in business. It’s the only way, and like me, he’s used to getting what he wants. You mustn’t let our little differences of opinion upset you.’
‘Little differences of opinion,’ echoed Sara wildly. ‘You can’t call that argument a little difference of opinion! He—he doesn’t want me here! He’s made that perfectly plain, and for some reason he doesn’t trust me either. I—I couldn’t be happy—under those circumstances!’
‘Oh, Sara!’ J.K. sighed heavily. ‘I want you here. Isn’t that enough?’
‘But you’re not my guardian,’ she cried. ‘He is!’
‘Yes, and as such he ought to be ashamed of himself,’ muttered J.K. angrily.
Sara shook her head. ‘I want to go home—I mean—back to the Masons, anyway!’
‘You see—you have no home!’ J.K. caught her arm. ‘Sara, be sensible! Jarrod is not here a lot. He spends most of his time in London, or abroad. We won’t have to worry about him, I assure you.’
Sara continued to shake her head. ‘Please get my coat,’ she said tautly. ‘I want to leave!’
J.K. compressed his lips, and then summoned Morris. As she put on her coat, he said: ‘Won’t you change your mind, Sara?’
She moved to the door. ‘Thank you for everything, Mr. Kyle—oh, J.K. then,’ as he began to protest. ‘Is there someone who could take me home?’
‘Morris will have advised Potter,’ said J.K. wearily. ‘I wish you wouldn’t do this, Sara.’
Sara managed a faint smile, and then opened the front door and hurried down the steps to the waiting Rolls. She glanced back once at J.K. standing alone at the top of the steps, and felt tears pricking her eyes. He looked alone, too, and she realised that he, too, was lonely. Oh well, she thought sadly, it’s too late now. Much too late!
At the beginning of the following week, Sara had her interview with the Matron of the hospital. She was kind and sympathetic, and told her she would know the result of the interview within a few days. After that, it was just a question of waiting, and this Sara did with some impatience. In her free time, too many thoughts came to cloud her mind, and she was longing for a real job of work to banish all thoughts of J.K. and Malthorpe Hall, and most of all Jarrod Kyle, from her brain.
One morning, towards the end of that week, the headmaster of the school came to see her while she was in the school library.
‘Ah, there you are Sara,’ he said. ‘You have a visitor.’ He smiled encouragingly. ‘He’s waiting in my office.’
‘A visitor!’ exclaimed Sara. ‘But—who, sir?’
‘A Mr. Kyle,’ said the headmaster thoughtfully. ‘Kyle. The name’s familiar. Of course, Kyle Textiles. Do you know him? Is he some relation of the textile manufacturers?’
Sara felt the colour drain out of her cheeks. ‘Is he—is he young—or old?’
‘In his thirties, I’d say.’
‘Then—then he’s the chairman of the corporation,’ said Sara, swallowing hard, feeling slightly sick now. ‘Did he—did he say why he wanted to see me?’
‘The chairman,’ the headmaster was musing to himself reflectively. ‘What? Oh no, Sara, he didn’t say. But he seems very impatient, so I should hurry along if I were you. He’s waiting in my office, I’ll go and wait in the staff room.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Sara managed a faint smile, and then walked quickly along the corridor towards the headmaster’s office. As she neared the office, her footsteps slowed, and she wondered desperately what he could want her for. Reaching the door, she hesitated, and then tapped before entering. Jarrod Kyle was sitting on the edge of the headmaster’s desk, smoking a cigar, looking tall and lean and disturbingly male. In dark clothes, his tan complementing the uncanny fairness of his hair, he looked every inch the rich, powerful businessman he was. In deference to her femininity, he stood up at her entrance, while she hovered beside the door nervously.
‘Either come in or go out,’ he said shortly, and with a grimace she entered and closed the door. ‘That’s better.’ He studied her intently for a moment, noticing her pale cheeks, and the faint shadows round her eyes. ‘You don’t look at all well.’
Sara straightened her shoulders. ‘I’m perfectly all right, Mr. Kyle,’ she replied coolly.
‘Well, I’ll take your word for that, for the moment. Tell me, have you fixed yourself up with a job?’
‘I’m—I’m waiting for the results of my interview with the Matron of the Bridchester General,’ replied Sara carefully. ‘I’m very hopeful.’
‘I myself contacted the Matron this morning,’ he said, surprisingly. ‘You were accepted as a student nurse. I told her you would not be going.’
‘You did what!’ Sara stared at him in horror. ‘What do you mean by interfering in my affairs! Of course I shall be going! Oh, I shall have to get in touch with her at once——’
‘No, you won’t,’ he interrupted smoothly.