The Parrot Cage by Daphne Wright

The Parrot Cage by Daphne Wright

Author:Daphne Wright [Wright, Daphne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan UK


Chapter Fifteen

Flixe spent Christmas Day idly and for the most part alone. Jean-Pierre had sent round a hamper filled with all kinds of virtually unobtainable delicacies the previous day with a note explaining that he would not be able to see her because of a longstanding commitment. She was surprised to find how much she minded.

A week earlier Anna Kingsley had invited her to dine in Dover Street, explaining that Gerry and Andrew would be there too. Assuming that Jean-Pierre would whisk her off somewhere, Flixe had declined the invitation and was now faced with the choice of dining on her own from his hamper or losing face in front of Anna Kingsley and begging for her invitation to be renewed. The fact that doing so would also involve having to be polite to Andrew made up her mind for her and she decided to stay with her own company.

Now that she was stuck with it, she realised how much she minded being alone. Christmas had never been one of the Alderbrooks’ main family celebrations, and if it had been Flixe would probably have hated it, but as she pottered about her flat, trying to think of things to do, she began to feel as though by taking the job Peter had asked her to do she had exiled herself from her family; that in a curious way her loneliness that Christmas was a punishment for all the times when she had subverted the family’s guests from their dull conversation into admiration of herself. Doing her best to laugh at herself, Flixe even began to wonder whether her father’s attitude to her might not have some justification after all. As her mind reached that pitch of idiocy, her brains reasserted themselves and she explained to herself precisely why she was right to be doing what Peter had asked.

Shortly after eleven in the morning, when she really had got her mind under control again, her front door bell rang and, thinking that there would be a messenger with flowers or more presents from Jean-Pierre, she went to answer it. When she saw Peter Suvarov standing in the hall, her face was lit by a spontaneous smile of welcome.

‘May I come in, Flixe?’

‘Of course. How lovely! But aren’t you going to Etchingham?’

He followed her in to the flat, saying:

‘Yes, of course. But I thought I’d pop in to see how you were before I set off. And I thought I’d bring you this.’ He held out a flat package wrapped in ordinary brown paper. Flixe, who had never even thought of buying him anything, blushed as she took it from him.

‘Oh, Peter, you shouldn’t have,’ she said, untying the string.

‘I’m afraid it’s nothing compared to the kind of presents you get weekly from “that man”.’

She laughed, grateful that he was still able to joke about Jean-Pierre, and removed the brown paper to reveal the latest popular novel. When she thanked him, he told her that it was the merest trifle to show how grateful he was that she was tackling such a tricky and disagreeable job so well.



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