Adam's Rib by Margaret Rome

Author:Margaret Rome [Rome, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780263740905
Publisher: Harlequin Mills & Boon
Published: 1976-01-01T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

TAMMY looked up, her attention caught by the rat-tat of hail upon the

windowpanes. Outside it was dark, damp and grey, the fells no more

than a blurred outline barely visible through a sheet of driving rain.

She settled down to her task, feeling contented and at ease in the

comfort of her bedroom. Domesticity was a novel pleasure; although

eager to please Adam, she had never imagined herself becoming

absorbed to such an extent in simple tasks.

On the table by her side lay a colourful pile of embroidery silks and

spread out upon her knee a cloth upon which she had traced a pattern

of flowers, leaves and exotic-looking birds. Aunt Honor had given

her the idea. The morning after the supper party at Pam’s she had

enquired whether or not the evening had been a success and Tammy’s

answer had brought from her a nod of sympathy.

“I suppose so,” Tammy had shrugged. “I did meet one man with a

sympathetic outlook, but I’m afraid I didn’t go down so well with the

ladies present; their conversation revolved around some Show or

other and the exhibits they mean to enter. I was asked if I intended

entering for any of the competitions, but when I told them I couldn’t

bake, had no idea how to make jam and that the bottling of fruit was a

complete mystery to me their superior expressions made me wild.”

Aunt Honor had clucked, “Yes, I know what you must have felt, my

dear, they can be very trying. Still, they must have been very relieved

to hear that there was no danger of your continuing old traditions.

You see,” she sounded almost apologetic, “for years Vinnie and I

have carried off most of the prizes at the County Show. Vinnie’s jams

and bottled fruits are superb and I’ve had an unprecedented run of

luck in the bakery section. This year, however, we both decided we

had no time to spare for the painstaking trial-and-error routine one

has to pursue in order to come up with a winning entry. A pity,” she

sighed, “for the past fifty years entries from Fox Hall have led the

field.”

For some reason Tammy had felt ashamed. “I wish I could help, Aunt

Honor, but any efforts of mine would win no more than a wooden

spoon.”

“Never mind, my dear, I understand how you feel, for although

Vinnie and I have done well in our own particular sections we’ve

never yet managed to gain so much as a commendation in the

painting and needlework sections, no matter how hard we’ve tried.”

“I’m quite good at both those things,” Tammy had surprised her.

Aunt Honor had looked doubtful. “I’m sure you are, my dear, but…”

“But what?” Tammy had urged, quelling a surge of optimism.

“Well, I don’t want to dampen your enthusiasm, nor do I doubt your

ability, but we do have some surprisingly gifted people in our

vicinity; the quality of their work is superb. Pam’s aunt, for instance,

has for years walked off with first prize in the embroidery section,

while Pam herself is an exceptionally gifted artist who, if she wished,

could easily earn her living by painting.” Aunt Honor shook her head.

“No, Tammy, for your ego’s sake I wouldn’t advise entering into

contest with either of those two.

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