Free A Passionate Man by Joanna Trollope Page B

sitting-room carpet and Imogen was rushing at corners with a flamingo-pink feather duster.
    â€˜Thpiders, thpiders!’
    Sally switched off the machine.
    â€˜There’s two telephone messages on the kitchen table. And Mrs Mitchell says she’ll bring Mikey back as she’s got to go into Winchester anyway.’
    Imogen dropped the feather duster with a scream. A real spider, small but stout of heart, was advancing up the bamboo handle.
    Sally said, ‘Don’t be silly, Imogen. Spiders are nice. Come and help me put him outside.’
    Imogen scuttled behind Liza and buried her face in her skirt.
    â€˜Oh, Imo, what a cowardy—’
    Sally carried the duster to the window and shook the spider out into the air. With Imogen still glued to her skirt, Liza hobbled away to the kitchen and discovered that one of the telephone messages was from Marina: ‘Mrs de Breton says she will ring again later.’ Good, Liza thought, attempting to detach Imogen with one hand while carrying the kettle with the other. Imogen, in order to show that this was a game, not a spider panic, would not be detached, however, but dragged herself behind Liza, clutching her skirt.
    â€˜Don’t, darling.’
    Imogen clung harder.
    â€˜Imogen, let go.’
    Gripping the folds of brushed cotton in limpet hands, Imogen buried her face and shoved it hard against Liza’s thigh.
    â€˜Stop it, Imogen. Let go and don’t be such a stupid baby.’
    Imogen pretended she could not hear. She breathed a hot damp patch through the fabric against Liza’s thigh. The telephone rang. Dragging Imogen crossly behind her, Liza limped across the room.
    â€˜Hello?’
    â€˜Liza? My dear. It’s Marina. I have to thank you for possibly the best Sunday ever. I detest Sundays but yesterday I adored.’
    â€˜We adored having you.’
    Imogen opened her mouth wide, braced her teeth against Liza’s skirt and bit as hard as she could.
    â€˜Ow—’
    â€˜My dear,’ Marina said in alarm. ‘What is happening?’
    â€˜My horrible little daughter. Wait a moment—’
    Liza put down the receiver, seized Imogen and ran with her out of the room. Imogen was bawling now, her face scarlet and furious.
    â€˜Stay out there,’ Liza said. ‘Stay out, you beastly little girl.’
    She shut the kitchen door and wedged a chair-back under the handle.
    â€˜I’m so sorry,’ she said to Marina. ‘Imogen suddenly bit me. I suppose it’s her revenge for my going out to work.’
    â€˜Imogen? That angelic baby?’
    â€˜Not angelic,’ Liza said. ‘An angelic-looking fiend.’
    Imogen was crashing some object on the far side of the door.
    â€˜Stop it!’ Liza shouted.
    There was a pause while Imogen considered the effect she was having, and then the crashing began again.
    â€˜Excuse me,’ Liza said desperately.
    She put down the telephone, moved the chair, opened the door and seized Imogen, running with her down the hall towards Sally. As she ran, Imogen tried to bite her again.
    â€˜Sally, I’m on the phone and she’s being frightful—’
    Sally, with whom Imogen was seldom frightful, put down her duster and took the child from Liza.
    â€˜Heading for a smacked bottom, I see.’
    Liza ran back to the telephone
    â€˜Hello? Oh, I’m so sorry—’
    â€˜What would you say,’ Marina said, ‘to a day in London with me? Lunch, and perhaps an exhibition. Or a movie. I’d come down to you, but I’m sure it would be better for you to come up to me. I just feel—’ She paused and then said with great warmth, ‘I just feel you and I have a great deal to say to one another.’
    â€˜I’d love it,’ Liza said, smiling into the telephone.
    â€˜Would you?’
    â€˜Oh yes—’
    â€˜Then,’ said Marina, ‘go get your diary. Right now. And we’ll make a date.’ She