Read Bird of Prey for Free Online Page A

at the end of your performance.”
    “I—I wasn’t,” Caroline muttered, feeling her cheeks turn scarlet under the steely regard of her employer.
    “By the way,” he said dryly, “you didn’t inform me that you’re one of those girls who insist on singing while you work. It might have made me observe a certain caution about employing you. ”
    “Oh, I don’t consider that I can sing—not really— I mean—” Caroline stuttered hastily. “It’s simply that I’m able to take very high notes, that’s all.”
    “Then you haven’t studied singing? You haven’t won arty awards?”
    Caroline studied him anxiously. Was this interest in her singing a sign that he was softening in his attitude towards her, or was it simply a form of covert mockery?
    “The only prize I ever won was at holiday camp,” she told him cautiously.
    “Holiday camp?” he queried. He leaned against the oak panelling of the corridor, those strange grey eyes of his
    regarding her detachedly. “And what was the prize for?”
    “Oh, it wasn’t anything very interesting. It was just for singing the highest note. ” In an effort to cover her embarrassment she righted the polisher, fervently hoping that she had done it no damage.
    “Well, go on,” he commanded peremptorily. “You can’t stop there. How did it come about that you achieved such a triumph?”
    Was he really interested, Caroline thought desperately, or was this simply a preliminary before she received her marching orders from this rather terrifying employer, who so obviously did not approve of members of his staff vocalizing?
    “You see,” she told him hastily, “Uncle Trevor insisted that I should have a holiday, although Aunt Muriel thought it a waste of money, and—”
    “Just a moment, is this the Uncle Trevor who drinks port?”
    “But only occasionally,” Caroline rejoined a little primly. “He’s my mother’s brother and he’s always been very good to me.”
    “So he isn’t the guardian who doesn’t want you any longer?” “Oh no, Uncle Trevor wanted me to stay on. It was Aunt Muriel, and that was only because I was so clumsy. You see, they’d hoped I’d be able to learn how to mend china. They have a little business, mending antiques, but I could never master it. I always seemed to be all thumbs.”
    “I see, mending antique china!” For a moment she thought she detected a faint interest in those steely grey eyes. “Yes, I can well imagine that if you were as careless with the Dresden as you are with the polisher, the business wouldn’t pay.”
    “Oh, but I was doing all right before you startled me,” she exclaimed defensively.
    “Don’t make excuses!” he commanded abruptly. “Get on with your fascinating story about winning the prize for singing the highest note at the holiday camp.”
    “Well, you see it was the only rainy afternoon we had,” she
    told him earnestly. “The weather had been wonderful up till then and Dick Travers got up a competition to keep us amused.”
    “And who might Dick Travers be, my good girl? Do you realize you’re being extremely obscure?”
    “Oh, he was one of the games organizers,” she informed him. “He used to get up swimming and diving competitions and cross-country runs, and—and that sort of thing, if we were getting bored.”
    “So you enjoyed yourself at this holiday camp?”
    “Oh yes, it was wonderful: I loved every moment of it: it was far and away the best time I’ve had in my whole life, I think. We had such fun, and I made friends and I wrote to the girls afterwards and sent them postcards, and—”
    “And what about the boys? You sent them postcards too, didn’t you? You must have been attracted by some of them.” Caroline considered. “Yes, some of them were very nice, but mostly rather young and immature.”
    He flung back his head and, to her amazement, burst into laughter.
    She gazed at him in astonishment. Somehow she had not realized that this stern employer was