Master of the Game by Sidney Sheldon

 

 

They had three days together in London, and Kate loved every minute of it.

“I have a treat for you,” David told her. “I got two tickets for Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch.”

“Thank you, David. I want to go to the Gaiety.”

“You can’t. That’s a—a music-hall revue. That’s not for you.”

“I won’t know until I see it, will I?” she said stubbornly.

They went to the Gaiety.

 

 

Kate loved the look of London. The mixture of motorcars and carriages, the ladies beautifully dressed in lace and tulle and light satins and glittering jewelry, and the men in dinner clothes with piqué waistcoats and white shirtfronts. They had dinner at the Ritz, and a late supper at the Savoy. And when it was time to leave, Kate thought, We’ll come back here. David and I will come back here.

 

 

When they arrived at Cheltenham, they were ushered into the office of Mrs. Keaton.

“I want to thank you for enrolling Kate,” David said.

“I’m sure we’ll enjoy having her. And it’s a pleasure to accommodate a friend of my husband.”

At that moment, Kate knew she had been deceived. It was David who had wanted her sent away and had arranged for her to come here.

She was so furious and hurt she refused to say good-bye to him.

 

 

13

 

Cheltenham School was unbearable. There were rules and regulations for everything. The girls had to wear identical uniforms, down to their knickers. The school day was ten hours long, and every minute was rigidly structured. Mrs. Keaton ruled the pupils and her staff with a rod of iron. The girls were there to learn manners and discipline, etiquette and decorum, so that they could one day attract desirable husbands.

Kate wrote her mother, “It’s a bloody prison. The girls here are awful. All they ever talk about are bloody clothes and bloody boys. The bloody teachers are monsters. They’ll never keep me here. I’m going to escape.”

Kate managed to run away from the school three times, and each time she was caught and brought back, unrepentant.

At a weekly staff meeting, when Kate’s name was brought up, one of the teachers said, “The child is uncontrollable. I think we should send her back to South Africa.”

Mrs. Keaton replied, “I’m inclined to agree with you, but let’s look upon it as a challenge. If we can succeed in disciplining Kate McGregor, we can succeed in disciplining anyone.”

Kate remained in school.

 

 

To the amazement of her teachers, Kate became interested in the farm that the school maintained. The farm had vegetable gardens, chickens, cows, pigs and horses. Kate spent as much time as possible there, and when Mrs. Keaton learned of this, she was immensely pleased.

“You see,” the headmistress told her staff, “it was simply a question of patience. Kate has finally found her interest in life. One day she will marry a landowner and be of enormous assistance to him.”

The following morning, Oscar Denker, the man in charge of running the farm, came to see the headmistress. “One of your students,” he said, “that Kate McGregor—I wish you’d keep her away from my farm.”

“Whatever are you talking about?” Mrs. Keaton asked. “I happen to know she’s very interested.”

“Sure she is, but do you know what she’s interested in? The animals fornicating, if you’ll excuse my language.”

“What?”

“That’s right. She stands around all day, just watching the animals do it to each other.”

“Bloody hell!” Mrs. Keaton said.

 

 

Kate still had not forgiven David for sending her into exile, but she missed him terribly. It’s my fate, she thought gloomily, to be in love with a man I hate. She counted the days she was away from him, like a prisoner marking time until the day of release. Kate was afraid he would do something dreadful, like marry another woman while she was trapped in the bloody school. If he does, Kate thought, I’ll kill them both. No. I’ll just kill her. They’ll arrest me and hang me, and when I’m on the gallows, he’ll realize that he loves me. But it will be too late. He’ll beg me to forgive him. “Yes, David, my darling, I forgive you. You were too foolish to know when you held a great love in the palm of your hand. You let it fly away like a little bird. Now that little bird is about to be hanged. Good-bye, David.” But at the last minute she would be reprieved and David would take her in his arms and carry her off to some exotic country where the food was better than the bloody slop they served at bloody Cheltenham.

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