"Freda Warrington - A Taste of Blood Wine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Warrington Freda)

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A Taste


fire. "It's just me being stupid. I hated it in London… so Maddy's
angry with me, and I feel terrible about it."
"Maddy's angry because you didn't enjoy yourself?"
"Something like that. But it's my fault."
"It sounds as if it's her being stupid, not you," said Anne. "Why are
you always blaming yourself?"
"I—" She paused, feeling that she was being accused of something.
"I really don't see any use in talking about it."
"That's your trouble, you never do," Anne said gently. "I wish you
would tell me what's really on your mind, Charli. All these years
I've known you, and you still don't feel you can confide in me?"
"Of course I do, but it's nothing, truly. Just a silly quarrel. I'm much
more worried about Fleur. I think she's taking cocaine."
Anne didn't look surprised. "It's the fashionable thing to do in her
set, isn't it? I'm sure she's too sensible to do herself any harm. You
worry too much."
"And Maddy's taken up with some awful man I can't stand."
"Oh, what's wrong with him?" Anne leaned forward, interested.
"I don't know. I didn't speak to him." Anne started to laugh and
Charlotte said sharply, "Yes, I know it sounds ridiculous, but I felt—
oh, I don't know. It's this wretched bug, I'm under the weather.
You'd better go away and come back when I'm in a more reasonable
frame of mind."
"Well, if you like." Anne stood up, looking sadly at her. "Go to bed
with a hot drink and some aspirin; that's the advice of the doctor's


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A Taste


daughter. And don't forget David will be home in time for
Madeleine's fancy-dress party; he'll cheer you up, even if I can't.
Have you decided on your costume, or is it secret?"
"I don't know and I don't care!" she said before she could stop
herself. "Oh, I'm sorry, Anne. That was uncalled-for. I'm just not—
I'm sorry."
Anne went to her, put her hand on her shoulder. "I really am
concerned about you, Charli. You're going to have to talk to
someone eventually, you know."
Anne let herself out, leaving Charlotte feeling guiltier than ever.
Anne had only been trying to help; she had all but driven her away.
Charlotte longed desperately for friends, yet something made her
reject them. An irrational dread of the unknown, of revealing any
part of herself to outsiders.
Her father came to see her, felt her hot forehead and shook his head.