Whiteout - Ken Follett [32]
“We’ll be at Steepfall for five days, so you need ten pairs of knickers, for a start.”
“I haven’t got ten.”
Miranda did not believe her, but she said, “Then we’ll take what you’ve got, and you can do laundry.”
Sophie stood in the middle of the room, a mutinous expression on her pretty face.
“Come on,” Miranda said. “I’m not going to be your maid. Get some knickers out.” She stared at the girl.
Sophie was not able to stare her out. She dropped her eyes, turned away, and opened the top drawer of a chest. It was full of underwear.
“Pack five bras,” Miranda said.
Sophie began taking items out.
Crisis over, Miranda thought. She opened the door of a closet. “You’ll need a couple of frocks for the evenings.” She took out a red dress with spaghetti straps, much too sexy for a fourteen-year-old. “This is nice,” she lied.
Sophie thawed a little. “It’s new.”
“We should wrap it so that it doesn’t crease. Where do you keep tissue paper?”
“In the kitchen drawer, I think.”
“I’ll fetch it. You find a couple of clean pairs of jeans.”
Miranda went downstairs, feeling that she was beginning to establish the right balance of friendliness and authority with Sophie. Ned and Tom were in the living room, watching TV. Miranda entered the kitchen and called out: “Ned, do you know where tissue paper is kept?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t.”
“Stupid question,” Miranda muttered, and she began opening drawers.
She eventually found some at the back of a cupboard of sewing materials. She had to kneel on the tiled floor to pull the packet from under a box of ribbons. It was an effort to reach into the cupboard, and she felt herself flush. This is ridiculous, she thought. I’m only thirty-five, I should be able to bend without effort. I must lose ten pounds. No roast potatoes with the Christmas turkey.
As she took the packet of tissue paper from the cupboard, she heard the back door of the house open, then a woman’s footsteps. She looked up to see Jennifer.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jennifer said. She was a small woman, but managed to look formidable, with her high forehead and arched nose. She was smartly dressed in a tailored coat and high-heeled boots.
Miranda got to her feet, panting slightly. To her mortification, she felt perspiration break out on her throat. “I was looking for tissue paper.”
“I can see that. I want to know why you’re in my house at all.”
Ned appeared in the doorway. “Hello, Jenny, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Obviously I didn’t give you time to sound the alarm,” she said sarcastically.
“Sorry,” he said, “but I asked Miranda to come in and—”
“Well, don’t!” Jennifer interrupted. “I don’t want your women here.”
She made it sound as if Ned had a harem. In fact he had dated only two women since Jennifer. The first he had seen only once, and the second was Miranda. But it seemed childishly quarrelsome to point that out. Instead, Miranda said, “I was just trying to help Sophie.”
“I’ll take care of Sophie. Please leave my house.”
Ned said, “I’m sorry if we startled you, Jenny, but—”
“Don’t bother to apologize, just get her out of here.”
Miranda blushed hotly. No one had ever been so rude to her. “I’d better leave,” she said.
“That’s right,” Jennifer said.
Ned said, “I’ll bring Sophie out as soon as I can.”
Miranda was as angry with Ned as with Jennifer, though for the moment she was not sure why. She turned toward the hall.
“You can use the back door,” Jennifer said.
To her shame, Miranda hesitated. She looked at Jennifer and saw on her face the hint of a smirk. That gave Miranda an ounce of courage. “I don’t think so,” she said quietly. She went to the front door.
“Tom, come with me,” she called.
“Just a minute,” he shouted back.
She stepped into the living room. Tom was watching TV. She grabbed his wrist, hauled him to his feet, and dragged him out of the house.
“That hurts!” he protested.
She slammed the front door. “Next time, come when I call.”
She felt like crying as she got into the car. Now she had to sit waiting, like a servant, while Ned was in the house with his ex-wife. Had