Free The Diary Of Pamela D. by greg monks Page A

‘Look, it must be clear by
now, even to you, that you’ve made yourself something of an asset around here, not
just in our home, but in this community.’ It was clear that this
wasn’t what he intended to say, but he plunged ahead. ‘That Cross
child would have died if you hadn’t known what to do. The church
choir sounds better than it ever has. From what I understand, you
have a big solo coming up at Easter. You’ve rattled the cobwebs out
of all the dark corners of this house and organised my files.
Of course I want
you to stay.’ He considered her for a long moment, until she
coloured under his scrutiny. ‘ All right , Miss Pamela Dee , as Mother says! You may now run
away if you wish. I suppose you’re still a little young to
understand what I really meant to say to you.’
    Taking his empty coffee mug,
she left for the kitchen, trying not to smile. Of course she understood. He
wasn’t sending her away after all! She could stay if she wanted to!
What could be more obvious?
    She was so elated that for the rest of that
day, and for the rest of that week, the little worm of melancholy
which had been eating away at her heart was quiescent.
     
    Inevitably, Pamela’s
thoughts turned often to Theo and the time he had kissed her. She
didn’t like to think that he’d done so merely because he was a
typical male in his prime who merely wanted to satisfy his carnal
appetite without any sort of regard for her as a person, that he
thought of her only as an object, a toy, a possible outlet. Such
thoughts evoked feelings of hurt, anger, betrayal. But who was she
kidding! Her own body had betrayed her. If Theo hadn’t allowed her
to break free of his grasp, he could easily have taken her. And
what was worse, Pamela had no illusions about his physical
strength, which was easily more than a dominating force where a
mere slip of a girl like herself was concerned, or that when he
held her, that she wanted him in ways that made her flush to think
of. That feeling in
itself made her writhe, with embarrassment, with anticipated
pleasure, with outright humiliation, with a strange sort of
tingling in her vitals which she instinctively knew was the
beginning of carnal desire.
    So much for simply being content to live
under the same roof with the man!
    As the weeks went by, a curious thing began
happening to her. She was becoming emotionally stronger, bolstered
by the people she had come to love, to think of as her very own
family, yet weaker at the same time, unable to control her moods,
especially where Theo was concerned.
     
    Winter had lost its harsh sting and was just
beginning to show signs of abating when one morning, as the women
were serving breakfast to the field workers, they ran short of
eggs. It was a strange sort of morning; more like a sepia
photograph or an old memory than waking reality. Things moved in a
fluid, slow-motion sort of way, like the cloying, wraithlike mists
that floated grudgingly across the moors, clinging to the sweeps of
gorse as though possessing tendrils.
    ‘Pamela,’ Ellie said as the girl took a fresh
loaf of bread out of the oven and set it on the counter to cool,
‘would you mind very much fetching some eggs, please? We’re all
out, and I’ve got my hands full at the moment.’
    Pamela, Ellie and the other
women members of the staff were wearing brand-new uniforms which
they themselves had made only days before. The material was still
crisp and new-smelling, and they were dove grey and white, trimmed
with a deep burgundy. Of course, all of the women were loath to
allow anything to
stain, tear, snag or otherwise mar their new and illustrious
attire, so they were more than a little stiff and careful in their
movements, where before they had been far more loose and casual.
This fact stood out in Pamela’s mind, momentarily, as though
nothing else mattered in the world. It was as though she were
laying on her bed, her vision filled by nothing except a vision of
a crisp, new uniform.
    But