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Lindsay - Rough
Diamond Lover
They not only came from different parts of the country. Their
views belonged to different centuries!
"Maybe that's why I've never found you real;" Jake said slowly.
"Never met a lovely looking female yet who didn't do something
to me! And then you came along—figure like a goddess and hair
like fire — but you leave me stone cold."
Laura's hand shot out with a stinging blow to his cheek. Then,
appalled, she wondered how she could have let him rile her into
behaving like a shrew!
CHAPTER ONE
Laura Winters glanced at the clock on her desk and gave a sigh
of relief. In half an hour she would be free to go home and
forget the pressures of her work. It was a wonderful thought.
"My own stupidity! Working out diet sheets and ordering and
checking the food is a full-time job without standing in as cook
for two days a week."
"Serves you right for offering," Jill replied. "Matron won't let you
stop now. You're stuck with being cook every time Maria leaves
the kitchen!"
"So do the patients. They always know when you're doing it.
Lady Bartlett practically licks her plate bare!"
"A bare plate is all she'll be getting for the next ten days," Laura
said dryly. "She has to lose twelve pounds."
"She should have gone to one of those fancy health spas," Jill
sniffed. "I hate this place being used by rich old women who
just want pandering."
"Sorry," Laura said quickly. "I'm usually like this by the end of
the week." She glanced at the clock again. "I must fly or I won't
get my shopping done.''
Rising, she ran her hands through her hair; mahogany red in
color, with a natural wave, it made a striking foil for her deep
blue eyes and creamy skin.
"Not once you reached the top. You'd meet so many exciting
people you'd never have a chance to be bored."
"What else!"
"I'm not interested in men," Laura said. "At least not for the
next few years."
"Why not?"
"You're too pessimistic," Jill stated. "When you fall in love, all
your theories will disappear through the window!"
"Dress hunting?"
"Food hunting."
"You and your home cooking," Jill mocked. "Well, don't let me
keep you from the kitchen stove!"
Within a few minutes Laura had left the nursing home and was
hurrying through the small supermarket where she usually did
her shopping. Turning her back on the frozen food, she chose
fresh lamb chops and haricot beans, ruefully admitting to
herself that her father would have been equally happy with
cheese and pickled onions. Indeed, left to fend for himself, that
was probably what he would have chosen, and would then no
doubt have wondered why he was up at night with indigestion!
Brilliant engineer though he was, nothing she said could make
him realize that the human body was the most intricate piece of
construction on earth—certainly meriting the same care he
lavished on his machines on the factory floor! Not that she
expected him to change at this time of his life. Grantley
Engineering was all-important to him, more so since he had
become a widower than at any time before. Sometimes she
even wondered how high she and her twin brother, Tim, rated in
his affections.
Pushing away her thoughts she made for the subway, where
she strap-hanged the six stations to Belsize Park and wondered
how Tim was enjoying living in a small Midland town. At least
he could walk to work and had no rush hour to fight through!
"But he hasn't been in trouble," she had replied. "He just hasn't
got too much sense."
"Then he must start to acquire it. I'm not speaking idly, Laura.
Tim must stand on his own feet."
There had been a tone in her father's voice she had not
understood, but though she had questioned him, he had evaded
replying, beyond reiterating his belief that it would do Tim good
to work away from home and in a job not under his father's
aegis.
Savoring the fresh air, she wended her way through the tree-
lined streets to the quiet cul-de-sac where she lived, stopping
abruptly as she saw her father's car outside the small
apartment building they shared with six other tenants.
Her father was seated in the living room reading the evening
paper, and one look at his face allayed her fears. The dark
shadows had not lifted from under his eyes, but his thin
features were irradiated by a lively excitement that took ten
years from his age, reminding her of the man he had been
before his mother's death.
"You'd better be quick and tell me what it is," she teased. "If
you go on holding it back your accent will be to thick for me to
follow you!"
With a grin Laura went into the small but compact kitchen and
returned with a can. By the time she had poured its contents
into a glass, her father had his pipe going and was puffing away
contentedly.
"Beer," she said with a faint sigh. "Honestly, dad, you should be
drinking champagne! In charge of a new plant—I can't believe
it."
"It's big," came the satisfied response. "I'll not deny that. And
it'll give me a chance to put some of my ideas into practice.
With a factory that's already in operation it wouldn't be so easy,
but this Yorkshire plant is the most modern in Europe and—"
"It might just as well be. You surely can't want to go up north?"
"But you've lived in London for years. You'd hate to leave it."
"Not wrong, my dear; but not right, either." Her father leaned
forward, cradling the bowl of his pipe in his palm. "It's never
made much difference to me where I've lived. My life was my
wife and family and my job. But since your mother's death I've
concentrated on my work and I'm ready to go wherever it takes
me."
"Laura, Laura," her father sighed. "Do you think if you say
something often enough you 'll make it come true? Tim won't
come back to London for a long while yet, and even if he did, I
doubt if he'd want to live with us."
"You've still got me," she said quickly. "I know I can't make up
for mother but…"
"I wouldn't want you to. As it is you spend too much time with
me. You should mix with more people of your own age."
"I've got loads of friends," she stated. "If I don't go out every
night it's only because I prefer to stay here."
"Eddlestone?"
"Where the factory is. It's not far from Manchester, so you
would at least be seeing something of Tim at weekends."
"I've never even heard of Eddlestone."
"You will soon enough," her father said placidly. "Grantley's new
plant will put it on the map."
"Really? Then how come you boiled an egg for an hour and then
wondered why it wasn't getting soft!"
This last remark did more to dissuade her father than anything
else she could have said.
With a start Laura realized she had missed the first part of her
father's comment. But the tail end of the sentence was
sufficient for her to follow what he meant.
"I'll have to give at least a month's notice," she said. "I can't
leave them in the lurch."
"Do you think I'll find work in Eddlestone?" she asked. "I can't
imagine it having a nursing home like the Harley Clinic."
"Nor can I," he grinned. "But they've a good little hospital and
dietitians are pretty hard to come by. I doubt if you'll have
much to worry about."
"You can still remain here if you want," her father said once
more. "I can manage perfectly well on my own."
"But I can't. I need you, dad. People are more important than
places."
She knelt and rested her head on his shoulder. His hand came
up and stroked her hair, a gesture he had often made when she
was a child. Feeling the movement she knew she had made the
only decision possible. People were more important than places,
and though the places would be missed and wept for, she would
have to do her weeping alone.
CHAPTER TWO
Laura's first small sight of Eddlestone—what she could glimpse
of it through a curtain of rain as the train drew into the station
—confirmed her worst fears. London, bright with autumn
sunshine, had been at its tantalizing best when she had left that
morning. But rain had set in as the train sped through the flat
Midlands, and now the steady downpour seemed as much a
part of life as the grimy bricks and mortar of the narrow,
cramped houses that edged the railway line.
"It's the fresh air." He looked at the rain and grinned. "It was
perfect until a few hours ago."
"Oh yeah?"
"I didn't know you had a new car," Laura said as they drove off.
Peering out of the window she saw raw, red-brick houses, set
like scabs on muddy, rain-sogged earth. Not a single tree or
bush relieved the landscape, though an occasional root,
straggling dried fingers across the ground, bore testimony to a
withered hope. As if anything could live and grow in this awful
place!
"This isn't where we're going to live, is it?" she asked, gulping
down her fear.
"The men don't need compensation for being given the chance
to work," her father said dryly. "Anyway, new housing estates
always look dreary—especially in the rain."
The car turned left down another road lined with old houses,
some of which seemed to be in the process of demolition, and a
pile of rubble gave way to a low stone wall that skirted a
cemetery.
"Now perhaps you can see why I was so pleased to get the
chance of working here. There isn't an electronics engineer in
the country who wouldn't give his eyeteeth to be in my shoes."
The pride in his voice filled her with wry wonder. How single-
minded men were!
"Fat lot you listen to me!" She turned her eyes from the distant
view of the factory and looked at her father. He was too pale
and thin and she knew instinctively that during his weeks alone
here he had worked longer hours than he should have. "It's silly
to drive yourself so hard. Grantley's has waited so long to build
this place, what does it matter if they wait a few more weeks?"
"Who's Andrews?"
"His what?"
There was no doubting the sarcasm and Laura was irritated with
herself for having caused it.
"I'm sorry, dad. It's just that I'm tired and…" Her voice trailed
away. "Don't take any notice of me. Once we're home I'll feel
better. We can have supper and then you can tell me all the
news."
"I won't have much time tonight, I'm afraid. I was going to stay
in but some new blueprints arrived from London and I promised
Andrews I'd get back to the factory and look them over with
him."
"I'll ask him myself when he comes over. I suppose you've seen
him?"
If he could. The words were bitter in Laura's ears and she felt
the sting of tears come into her eyes, making her realize how
much she had been depending on her twin to sweeten her self-
imposed exile.
"I wish he'd come back to Grantley's," she said. "I know he's
getting more money at this new place but surely if you—"
"No!" The word was sharp enough to silence her. "It's better for
Tim to work for another firm."
Once more unease tugged at her mind and she was more
certain than ever that her father was hiding something from
her. Yet now was not the time to ask him. In a few weeks, when
they had settled down together, she would tackle him about it.
It was far nicer than she had anticipated; the more so after the
red-brick monstrosities she had seen earlier. Because of this it
was no effort to give her father a beaming smile, as though this
mundane example of provincial living was everything she had
been longing for.
"Grantley's has done you proud, dad. And it's got a garage,
too!"
Laura pushed open the gate and walked up the narrow gravel
path to the porch. As she reached it a light came on and the
door was opened by a large-boned woman enveloped in a
flowered apron whose red roses matched her ruddy face.
Surprised, Laura did as she was told, and as soon as she set
foot in the house itself her hand was taken and pumped
vigorously.
"So you're Laura. Just like your father said you are. Pretty but
too thin. Still, you'll soon fatten up here. I'm pleased to meet
you."
"If you could tell me what time we're having supper, I'll go and
change. I'm rather tired after the journey and I would like to
eat as soon as possible."
A hush followed her words and Laura was aware of her father's
quick intake of breath.
"You've got it wrong, girl," he said. "Nell doesn't work for us.
She's our next-door neighbor."
"It was very kind of you to bother," Laura said before her father
could reply.
The door closed behind her and John Winters looked at his
daughter. "You certainly put your foot in it that time!"
"How was I to know she was a neighbor? You should have told
me she was going to be here."
"I didn't mean to offend her, but she wasn't all that polite
herself."
"And how do you think she rubbed me? All that rot about people
in London never talking to their next-door neighbor!"
"Well, did you? We never even knew the name of the tenants
opposite!" Her father picked up her case. "Still, Nell won't bear
a grudge. Make her one of your own pies when you've settled
down, and you'll have her eating out of your hand."
"That's what I'm afraid of!" She moved toward the stairs. "I'd
like to see my bedroom, dad."
"I never expected anything like this!" she exclaimed. "I thought
I'd have to cook on a coal range!"
"You can thank Jake Andrews for it all." Her father grinned.
"This is the most modern kitchen in Eddlestone. I told him you
were a dietitian and all that, and he went out and ordered you
all this."
"You can soon alter the rest to suit your taste. But Andrews
thought you'd be more concerned about the kitchen."
Curiosity about the general manager stirred in her. To have
achieved such success while still so young spoke for
determination and ruthless drive; to find he could spare the
time to organize her kitchen was a facet that did not fit in with
her picture of him.
"He knows you weren't keen to live up here," her father went
on. "I daresay he guessed how worried I was about your being
happy here."
Supper over, Laura cleared away the dishes and then went into
the lounge—an overfurnished little room with a three-piece
suite in maroon damask and flowered carpet and curtains.
Deliberately she found her father's slippers and set them in
front of the largest easy chair, then settled herself close to the
electric fire.
The ringing of the telephone cut her short, and her father
disappeared into the hall to answer it. A moment later he came
back, his overcoat across his shoulders.
"I'm not sure. Once Andrews gets going, there's no saying when
he'll stop.''
"He's my boss."
"Your boss?" The words were furious. "Have you taken on this
wonderful promotion so that you can be told what to do by
someone half your age? Honestly, dad, if-"
The printed page did not hold her attention and her thoughts
wandered to the unknown Mr. Andrews. What had her father
called him? Jeff? No, that wasn't it. Jake… yes, Jake. It was an
unusual name. It sounded more like a film star's than that of a
North Country yokel. Stop it, Laura, she chided herself. You're
letting your prejudice show. And that put her on a par with Mrs.
Rampton, whose own sweeping statement about Southerners
was equally as prejudiced.
Slowly the hours ticked by and she had fallen into a doze when
she heard her father's key in the lock. His steps were quiet and
she called out to him.
He came into the sitting room, his face tired. "You shouldn't
have waited up for me. It's past midnight."
Keeping her voice bright—for she sensed that was the only way
she could make any criticism of Mr. Andrews- she said: "I have
a feeling it's always going to be hard with your new boss. He
doesn't sound the type who could ever take things easy."
"You know me too well," she smiled. "I intend doing something
about it right away. You said there was a small hospital here,
didn't you?"
"Why not tell him yourself? I'd like to have him over for a meal
one night."
"Not for the next couple of weeks," she pleaded. "Give me time
to settle in."
"Let me know when you're ready, then. I'm longing to show you
off."
"When I've found a job, we can have a dinner to celebrate."
"I only wish we could afford you," the matron had said with
regret." It's such a waste of your teaching if you can't utilize it."
"You mope around the house too much," her father said one
evening when she forgot to wear her usual forced smile. "I'm
sure there are lots of people here of your own age. Why don't
you join some clubs? Perhaps if you asked at the church or
went to the town hall to inquire—"
"No thanks," she interrupted. "They wouldn't be my type
anyway."
"Because no one with any life in them would stay in a hole like
this!" Seeing her father's face she added quickly, "It's fine for
people like you, dad, and for everyone working at the plant.
They have a job to do and they're occupied. But anyone with
training—with a profession—has left here long ago."
"But you are!" She reached over and caught his hand. "I'm
staying here, dad, so don't talk about it anymore. I'll find
something soon and once I have, I'll feel better."
"Sympathy won't help," her twin replied. "It will only make you
more weepy."
"Not with me," Laura added. "When I meet her in the street she
just nods and walks by."
"Poor you. Now you'll never be able to taste her leek pie." Tim
licked his lips with a smacking noise. "She made it one Sunday
when I popped over to see dad. Very tasty it was, too."
"If you come over next Sunday I'll make you roast duck with
Curasao."
"Temptress!"
"Can you blame me? Having you here is the one bright thing
about living in this place."
Tim squeezed her hand, and for an instant they were silent,
held close by the bond of their birth. "Poor sweet," he said."I'll
do my best to cheer you up."
But she was careful not to voice these thoughts to her brother;
she cherished his visits too much to say anything that might
stop him from coming over and pretended not to notice the
tension between him and their father.
Most Sunday afternoons, if the weather was fine, Tim took her
for a ride across the moors, and she was awed by the beauty of
the scenery, understanding for the first time why her father
loved this part of the country.
"Then why did you go there? I'm sure you could have found a
job in London if you'd wanted to leave Grantley's."
It was a long time since she had remarked on his taking a job in
the Midlands, but though she waited for him to make some
comment, his answer, when it came, seemed to brush her
question aside.
"I'm not like you, Laura. I enjoy being a big fish in a little
pond."
"What do you use for money? Or are you getting all that much
more than you did before?"
It was one she had not seen before: slim and compact. She
reached out and took it from him. "This is lovely, Tim. Did you
get it locally?"
His look was candid, his eyes—the same deep blue as her own—
gazing at her guilelessly. He's lying, she thought, and stepped
back a pace, looking at the lighter more closely. At first glance
she had thought it to be gilt, but now she was positive it was
gold. Quickly she glanced at her twin but his expression was
still innocent, and she wished with all her heart that there was
no rapport between them to tell her when he was being
untruthful. Yet rapport was the wrong word, for it implied a
mutual bond, whereas Tim did not possess the same sensitivity
toward her—one reason he never believed her when she said
she could always tell when he was being untruthful!
"Just shows how wrong you can be." He put it into his pocket.
"How's Mr. Wonderful these days?"
"With a chap like Andrews there always will be. From what I've
heard about him he lives, eats and sleeps for his work."
Tim grinned and rubbed a long, thin hand over his hair. Like
hers, it was deep auburn in color, emphasizing the creamy
complexion that made him look young and vulnerable. "To me,
work is only a means to an end."
"What end?"
"If you're seeing her next Sunday, why not bring her over? You
know your friends are welcome here."
"I might not be here next Sunday. There's some extra work at
the office and I promised I would go in over the weekend."
"Well, come over when you get the chance. I don't expect you
to make it every weekend. Brother and sister is a bit too much
like bread and bread!"
His chuckle and the way he hugged her told her without words
that her easy acceptance of his absence was something he had
not anticipated.
"Maybe," she sniffed. "But I don't see how you can call eggplant
fancy food!"
"It isn't the fact that you can't buy eggplant that's bothering
you, lass. If you could find yourself a decent job—one that
would use your qualifications—you'd feel better."
She nodded silently and pushed aside her plate, unable to eat
any more.
As soon as their meal was over, her father stood up, hovering
by the table in a state of painful indecision.
"Go back to your beloved factory," she said wryly. "You mustn't
keep Mr. Andrews waiting."
" I'll be back for tea. A bit earlier if I can make it."
Ten minutes later a mass of hair lay thick upon the floor and
apprehensively she peered into the mirror. Surprised, she
surveyed herself. A riot of soft curls clung to her head,
emphasizing its well-rounded shape and the delicate curve of
her neck. Because it was layered—albeit roughly—each lock
picked up the light, so that each dark red strand was stroked
with gold. Its brightness increased the blue of her eyes and the
shorter style drew attention to her cheekbones, making her
notice the delicate hollows that marked her cheeks.
Deciding that since she was "in for a penny" she might as well
be "in for a pound," she sat in front of her dressing table and
treated herself to a complete makeup job, applying the stuff—
out of bravado—with a more liberal hand than usual: blue
shadow on the lids, mascara to heighten the length of lashes so
thick there had never been need of false ones, the merest hint
of glossy lipstick to draw attention to her curvaceous mouth.
The sound of her father's car sent her hurrying down to the
kitchen. How ridiculous he would think her when he found her
dressed up like this! Quickly she put on the kettle and was
setting the cups on the tray when she heard his key in the lock.
"I'm surprised the great dictator let you escape so early, "she
called.
"He didn't," a deep voice said. "I came back with him!"
"I'm not surprised you're annoyed with me," he went on. "Your
father hasn't had a weekend off since you arrived. That's why I
wanted to come back and apologize personally."
His easy acceptance of her rude comment about him put her at
a disadvantage, and she busied herself setting another cup on
the tray.
"There still is." His smile showed very white teeth. "I can't
promise not to go on being a dictator, but I'll try to see your
father has part of his weekend free!"
"You're most kind," she said with steely politeness, and then
looked behind him to her father who had just come in. "If you
could take Mr. Andrews into the lounge, I'l 1 make some
sandwiches.''
By the time she wheeled in the trolley the dining table was
covered with blueprints, which her father hastily pushed aside.
"I thought you'd finished working for today," she said pointedly.
Laura picked up the teapot. "How do you like your tea, Mr.
Andrews?"
"I meant did you want Indian or China," she asked coolly.
"Milk or lemon?"
Pink cheeked, she busied herself with another cup, aware that
he had made her sound pompous and stupid. What on earth
had made her bring in two kinds of tea when they normally
used only Indian? Even as she asked herself the question she
knew the answer. She had hoped to make Mr. Wonderful
Andrews—as Tim called him— look suburban and ignorant; and
all she had done was to make herself look far worse.
Avoiding the pale gray eyes, she held out the plate of
sandwiches. Carefully one large blunt-fingered hand took a
wafer-thin slice of bread.
"Please take more than one," she said quickly. "They're very
small."
Watching him as she sipped her own tea, she could understand
why her father liked him, for there was a forthrightness in his
manner that, while it did not appeal to her, would go down well
with other men: particularly those with whom he worked. He
was nothing like her idea of a general manager and seemed
more cast in the mold of a shop steward! Wryly she conceded
how annoyed her father would be if he guessed the route her
thoughts had taken. He would call her narrow and prejudiced
and he would be right. Living here was bringing out the worst in
her. If she wasn't careful she would end up even disliking
herself!
In an effort to make amends, she came into the conversation.
"You're very young to be general manager. You must feel
proud."
"I try not to be. They always say that goes before a fall!"
"Only if I'm allowed a free hand. Once the London top brass and
city types start interfering, I wouldn't a nswer for the men."
"I am, as far as this job is concerned. I've lived here all my life
and I understand the way the men think. I speak their language
and—"
"But the problems in this part of the country are specific ones."
He helped himself to the remaining sandwiches. "But you don't
want to bother your head with talk of politics and strikes." He
swallowed the last bite. "These were very tasty. Your father told
me you're an excellent cook, and I can see he wasn't boasting."
Annoyed at the way the man had changed the subject, almost
as if he did not feel she had the brains to sustain a discussion
with him, she refused to be sidetracked.
"I still don't see why you're so scathing of city types and
London businessmen. They're no different from the people up
here."
"Then how come you haven't settled down and made friends? I
gather you don't find it easy to communicate with the locals!"
"There aren't many young people here," her father said quickly.
"If Laura were working she'd find it easier to mix."
She bit hard on her lip. Blunt he might be, but ignorant he
wasn't. The way he had teased her over the question of
behavior and taste indicated a subtle mind that should not be
underestimated. And there was no doubt he was using it
against her! Mrs. Rampton had obviously broadcast an account
of her meeting with her "stuck-up young neighbor," and had no
doubt embellished it, too.
The man laughed. "A quick and sharp answer. You haven't got
red hair for nothing! But that still doesn't solve the problem.
You can't go on sitting around here like a brood hen! You must
get out and—"
"I'd rather you didn't tell me what to do. My father may be
subject to your orders, but I'm not!"
"You weren't," she interrupted. "If you act like that with your
men, you 'll be as bad as the city types you were just
condemning!"
"I can't-"
"I know that would defeat the whole reason for your coining
here in the first place," he cut in, "but since you did come here
to make your father happy, the least you can do is try to
complete the job."
"I don't need a supervisor. I need someone who can take on the
feeding of four hundred men. Six hundred by the end of the
year. If that doesn't require a dietitian's training, I don't know
what does!"
He shook his head and turned to her father. "See you in the
morning, John."
Pride fought with boredom and boredom won. "Yes," she said
quietly. "You can expect me in the morning."
CHAPTER THREE
As Laura drove through the gates of Grantley's with her father
the next morning, she knew she was entering a world that was
completely sufficient unto itself. Seen at close quarters, the
factory was even bigger than she had expected: the buildings
shinier, the windows larger, the atmosphere far more clinical.
"You won't be finding any lions." Her father patted her hand.
"I'm pleased you came, Laura. I'm sure you won't regret it."
"Mr. Andrews is expecting me. I'm the… I'm the new canteen…"
She stopped and then said quickly, "I'm the dietitian in charge
of the canteen."
"Miss Winters?" The man rose to greet her. "I'm Bill Carpenter. I
can't tell you how pleased I am to have you here. Looking after
the canteen has been a nightmare."
"No need for that. If Mr. Andrews hired you, that's all I need to
know." He moved across to the window behind his desk and
indicated for Laura to stand beside him. "The building beyond
this one houses the canteen, the first-aid room and the rest
rooms. We might as well go over there and I 'll show you what's
what."
Thrilled as she had been by her first sight of the new factory,
Laura was equally disappointed by the canteen and kitchen.
They were designed to operate with maximum efficiency but
were as bare and aseptic as a hospital ward.
"N-nothing."
A man after Mr. Andrews's own heart, Laura thought wryly, and
wondered whether he chose them because of it, or whether
they naturally gravitated to him.
"Ina kitchen!"
"Well, not pictures," she smiled, "but certainly more color. And
never those blue white fluorescent lights. They make food look
gray!"
"You've a point there. Out with the lights for a start. Now what
about the canteen? I take it you'd like it looking Swedish?''
"I'd like it just looking colorful. A few coats of paint would make
a world of difference."
"Just decide what you want and do it," Mr. Carpenter stated.
"But make sure Mr. Andrews passes the bills first! I'm sure he'll
give you the go-ahead for anything that'll make things better
for his men."
His men, Laura thought scornfully. That's all a boor like him
thinks of.
So deep in thought was she that she did not see a man
approaching until she bumped into him. She looked up instantly
to apologize.
"Please forgive me," she said. "My thoughts were miles away."
"I'll watch out for spyglasses and black raincoats!" she said
solemnly and made to walk on, pausing as she found he was
still blocking her way.
It was then that she noticed how tall he was—at least six feet,
and that did not take into account the quiff of mouse-colored
hair that stood up from his forehead like a question mark,
giving him a naive appearance contradicted by a pale, serious
face. He was good-looking in an understated way: small mouth,
round chin and short nose; the whole redeemed from
effeminacy by thick brown eyebrows that marked deep-set
brown eyes. His eyes, in fact, were his best feature, being large
and long- lashed, and they were regarding her with the same
frank curiosity with which she herself was regarding him.
"As a matter fact I do! Now if you'll excuse me…" Again she
tried to walk past him but he barred her way.
"For what?"
"I have a twin brother," she said firmly, "and that's put me off
any man under the age of thirty."
He stopped and looked her fully in the face. In the pale sunlight
she saw a faint sprinkling of freckles on the bridge of his nose,
noticed, too, that he was thinner than he should be, with long
arms extending from a thick sweater. How like Tim he was:
young, amusing and friendly as a puppy. She had meant it
when she had confessed that men under thirty did not appeal to
her. Heaven alone knew the reason—some deep-seated
psychological one, no doubt—but nevertheless it existed and
this young man must be made to realize it.
"I want to get to the drawing office," she said firmly. "I'm in a
hurry, so if you could direct me…"
"Not you!" She gave a rueful laugh. "This will teach me to hold
my tongue!"
"But I loved your frankness. At least now I know you like old
men who aren't virile and hearty! I intend dyeing my hair gray
and walking with a stick."
A gust of wind swept around the corner of the building and its
sharpness made her shiver. "Can we talk somewhere warmer?"
"Sure thing."
Catching her by the elbow he raced her a good ten yards along
the path to the entrance of a building larger but identical in
shape to the one she had just left.
"I don't know. But I don't want to spend more than a hundred
pounds."
"That cuts out a proper repaint job. It would cost that much for
the paint alone!"
Dismay held her silent; then she tossed her head. "Let's make it
two hundred pounds. Then we can redo one wall at least and
still have money left over for plants and paintings." Caught by
enthusiasm, she would have elaborated further, but saw the
humorous glint in his eyes and stopped herself. "But you put
together a scheme," she continued, "and let me have
something by the end of the week."
Robert Deen grinned and rubbed one hand across his hair,
making the quiff stand up even higher. "I never thought of that.
Just shows how devious a woman's mind is."
"I'll grant you that difference." Laughing, he put his hand on her
arm. "I'll work out a few projects and let you have them. Will
late Friday be suitable?"
"Yes." She hesitated. "It might be best if you could leave them
in my office for me. Then I can take them home and study them
during the weekend. I doubt if I'll get much time to do it here."
She smiled. "Then bring them over Friday evening and have
coffee with us if you're free."
"That's a date."
For the rest of the week Laura was totally occupied learning
how the canteen was run. The firm that Jake Andrews had
called in was efficient and economical, but watching their
method of bulk buying from a central organization, she was
convinced she could do equally well on price and considerably
better on quality, if she could obtain her main supplies from
farms and local wholesalers. But that would take time, and for
the moment her wisest plan was to continue with the present
suppliers and introduce new sources gradually. The last thing in
the world she wanted was to make a hash of this particular job.
She'd show Mr. Andrews what a well-run canteen was like, even
if she collapsed with fatigue in the process.
And collapse she nearly did. Running the Harley Clinic with its
fifty or sixty patients was a far cry from totally managing a
canteen that had to feed six hundred men in three shifts; to say
nothing of the difference in the menus and the budget with
which she had to work. Luckily her assistant was not only
capable but also friendly, while the three cooks and six trainees,
whose duty it was to prepare the meals she worked out, came
from reputable colleges and, equally important, were still young
enough to want to maintain their level of cookery above the
usual mundane standard accepted in mass- production feeding.
Little by little she began to alter the menus; pork pies, sausage
and mash, baked beans and the plethora of suet puddings were
replaced by mixed grills, assorted salads, cold cuts and fruit
desserts. Soon local market-gardeners were coming to her with
their produce and offering highly competitive terms when they
realized the quantity she wished to buy.
At the moment they were still scouring the villages to find old
shops selling brass and pewter stands, which they would
present to the market-gardeners with whom Laura was dealing,
in order to badger them into giving them plants they could
place on all the radiators. During their travels they had even
discovered amateur artists eager to give away their paintings,
as long as they would be hung on walls where they could be
seen; and though many had tactfully to be refused, they still
had more than enough to meet their needs.
"At least ten other men would have helped you try." Seeing her
puzzlement, he grinned. "Everyone around here thinks you're a
fabulous bit of homework! Half my office staff has been trying
to bribe me to plead illness or overwork and let them have a
chance of helping you!"
"I'd like to be more than a friend. From the moment I met you
—"
"Don't," she interrupted. "Let's leave things the way they are.
We've only known each other six weeks.''
"Then I'll take the sex and wait for love to follow!"
"Not with me," she rejoined, and knew she had to make the
position clear. It might not be the most tactful thing to do, in
view of all the hard work he had done for her, but it would
prevent the situation from developing into one she might not be
able to control. "I like you as a friend, Robert, but nothing
more."
"You're wasting your time. I like older men. I told you that the
first time we met."
Her tone, more than her words, made him realize she was
serious. "Just because I act the fool doesn't mean I am one. I
hold down a pretty responsible job and—"
"I am. But I feel years older than him, too. In the same way I
feel older than you."
Before she could stop him, he reached out and pulled her close.
Thin and pale though he was, there was nothing weak in the
way he held her, nor in the pressure of his mouth on hers. But it
was a strength that left her unmoved, and her lack of response
communicated itself to him and made him draw back in chagrin.
"Not one of my most successful conquests," he said with an
effort at lightness. "I really do leave you cold, don't I?"
"Ofcourse not!"
His humor eased the tension that had sprung up between them,
and though she knew she would never feel anything for him
other than a warm affection, she decided that at this juncture it
would be more tactful to leave him in happy ignorance. No man
could go on loving a girl who continually held him at arm's
length— at least not if he were young, virile and sensible. Given
a few more months, Robert was more than likely to start
casting his eye elsewhere.
"Don't be silly. But most girls of your age are already married,
and you've never even come anywhere near it."
"You know the answer to that. But are you running away from
it?"
"Not in words," she agreed. "But when he was here that first
time, and some of the times he's been here since, he's gone out
of his way to make me appear bossy."
"Dad!"
He grinned. "Sorry, Laura, but you rather asked for it. You're
not bossy, really. I take that back. But you do act as if you
know what's best for people, especially men."
"He does like work," her father conceded. "The only time he
takes a night off is when he comes here."
"And talks shop with you until the minute he leaves? Honestly,
dad!"
"We've had some pretty interesting talks even so," her father
grunted. "He's well read and he has a good mind. He 'll be on
the main board of the company pretty soon."
"Then he'd really be able to take care of his men, "she snapped.
"Just the way you said it. I've never known a man get under
your skin the way Jake has."
"He generally is." John Winters waved his hand in the air to
curtail her reply. "Seems to me you both rub each other the
wrong way. Pity… I'd have thought you would have got on well."
The way his eyes had moved slowly over her body had left her
in no doubt about his meaning, and she had turned her head
away. But he had refused to be put off.
"What reason would you like your husband to have for choosing
you? "
"Aye, it is. I'd like to know what you think. You're a liberated
woman and I don't often get the chance to talk to one!"
This time the look in his gray eyes left her in no doubt that she
was being teased, but she carefully refrained from letting it bait
her.
"I don't agree. You can always arrange not to discover your
politics, but if a woman can't cook, her husband will soon go
elsewhere to have his belly filled!"
She ignored the question. "It isn't hard to get a decent meal,
but to find someone to share your ideals, all the things you
believe in, that's far more important."
He shook his head. "I don't think it matters a damn whether a
man and woman have the same opinions on anything!"
"Aye. And the woman who loves me will want it that way. But
that doesn't mean she must be a mouse.''
"No?"
"Only because I'm more honest with myself than you are. Why
are you giving me bilge like having the same political beliefs
and sharing the same ideas? Don't you know that the most
important thing between a man and a woman is something that
can't be put into words? It can only be felt… experienced."
Jake Andrews followed her gaze and then raised one thick
eyebrow. "You've lost your excuse not to answer me.
"If they loved one another… yes. And loving each other they
would learn to accept and understand their differences. Not
perhaps in the two cases you've cited," he admitted. "But they
were rather extreme ones. On certain fundamental issues there
has to be a mutual understanding. But political opinions aren't
fundamental. When a man and woman want each other, their
political views won't keep them apart."
Still trying to prevent herself from hitting him, she said, "Then
what are the fundamental issues—in your opinion?"
"I've just told you. The same attitude toward sex. It's no good a
warm-blooded man marrying a frigid woman, or vice versa.
They should also agree on racial issues— that's way above
ordinary politics—and they should have the same values when it
comes to honesty, kindness and ethics. Does that answer your
question?"
"Mind you, cooking doesn't come into any of the categories I've
listed," he went on. "It's so important that it stands by itself!"
Only then did she think of a remark that might silence him.
"What would you do if you fell in love with a—" She stopped and
then said firmly, "I mean if you were so sexually attracted to a
girl that you wanted to marry her, and then found she hated
cooking?"
She gave him a cynical smile. "I should think a man with your
beliefs would find it hard to resist pure sex appeal!"
"I don't know Mr. Andrews well enough to know his moods."
"We can soon remedy that." Jake Andrews was laughing at her,
too. "I was going to suggest our going out one night. I'd like to
repay you for your hospitality."
"That was a clumsy way for me to have put it." He ignored the
coolness of her tone. "Which evening would suit you?"
"Penny for your thoughts, Laura." Her father's voice brought her
back to the present and she shook her head.
"Thinking of Jake?"
"Because you looked as if you were spoiling for a fight. And it's
a look you generally wear when he's around!''
"He didn't come to talk shop," came the reply. "He came to
sample your cooking."
She blushed, glad that her earlier thoughts were not known.
"Then he must have found a better cook than me. He hasn't
been here for ten days."
It was the first time he had asked to see her officially since she
had started to work for the company, and wondering if it was a
routine meeting or heralded something more, she decided to
see him at once. She would have no peace of mind until she
did.
His office was larger than she had expected and furnished with
a panache she had not expected, either: gray carpet, so dark as
to be almost black, with one gray wall and two white ones;
modern Italian furniture complementing the three excellent
modern paintings, and a desk, a curving sweep of rich
mahogany, that almost matched the reddish brown leather
armchairs that stood like guards in front of him. His own chair
was of the swivel variety and framed him like the velvet robes
of an emperor as he swung around in it to greet her, half rising
from his chair and not sitting back in it until she had sat down,
too.
He did not answer this, almost as though her comment was too
stupid to warrant it. "You answered my note very promptly," he
said, pointing to her coat.
Not wishing to think that fear of him had prompted her speed,
she shrugged. "Once I start work, I hate any interruptions.
That's why I came here first."
"Heard what?"
Although he was still speaking quietly, she was only now aware
that it was the quietness of pent-up anger, rather than
tiredness, as if he were curbing himself for fear of an explosion.
"It's pretty nearly everything you've done! I've spent the past
hour talking my way out of a strike."
"A strike!"
"Didn't you know that the takings from the canteen have
dropped by half in the past two weeks, or are you still too busy
painting walls and putting up fancy pictures?"
"Sit down!"
"Will you kindly control your temper and tell me what it is that I
have done? Try to think of me as 'one of your men,' Mr.
Andrews. That should at least guarantee your civility!"
His eyes were still glacial and his mouth was clamped tight.
"I know," he said flatly. "I was merely trying to make you see
that you can't change people's eating habits in a matter of
weeks. Every region has its own tastes, and up here people like
meat and two veg and a decent sweet they can get their teeth
into."
"Their false teeth!" she retorted. "On your sort of diet they
won't have their own very long."
"In your eyes I'm not qualified to do it. It's far better if I resign.
If you wish, I'll stay here until you've found a replacement."
"That was one of the reasons. And also because you had the
right qualifications."
"Not right enough," she said tartly. "I'd prefer to go. And you
needn't worry that I'll let my boredom affect my father. I'll be
so happy to leave here that I'll never complain again!"
"Stop talking rubbish! You know damn well you've got the right
qualifications. And you're also a hard worker. I know the long
hours you've put in, and I appreciate it. All I want you to do is
use your common sense. Stop being the thinking-man's
dietitian .and act like a working-class one!"
"Get down from your high horse, lass!" Once again his temper
had gone, though his accent still indicated that emotion was
near the surface. "You're working on the right track, even
though the train was going too fast! Give the men six months
and they might come around to your way of thinking. It's up to
you. Make your kind of food attractive enough and they might
all end up with salad and soya beans! But don't forget to serve
the food they like. That way they won't feel you're forcing them.
And before we leave the subject, let me say I know that high-
starch diets lower your energy and high-protein ones increase
it!" His smile this time could only be described as wolfish.
"Satisfied?"
"You are the one who has to be satisfied," she said in her driest
tone.
"Well, I will be, as long as you take notice of me. Tell me what
increase in budget you want, and I'll authorize it. We'll review
the position in a month's time and see if the takings have
reverted to normal. If they haven't, we'll have to think again. Is
that clear?"
"Thank you."
She was at the door when he spoke again. "From now on, I
won't be having my lunch on a tray. I'll eat in the canteen."
Her face flamed. "Wouldn't it be less bother for you to check the
menus, as I suggested?"
Blankly he stared at her; then he frowned. "I'm not planning to
check that you are doing as you promised. I thought it would
help if the men could see that I don't treat myself any
differently from the way I treat them!"
"Then I'll expect you today, Mr. Andrews. I'll make sure you
have your suet pudding!"
Also true to his word he had a salad with every meal, and
though she tried not to notice what he ordered, she was aware
that his knowledge of food value was excellent. Regardless of
the choice he insisted upon for his men, he himself preferred
the maximum amount of vegetables, fruit and cheese, and the
minimum of starch and sugar.
It was well into the middle of the fourth week when she
received a summons to the general manager's office.
Remembering the haste with which she had responded to the
first one, she took her time in answering this, and it was well
into the afternoon before she presented herself.
Rarely had she had the chance to study him without being
observed, and in the glare of the fluorescent tubes, which
turned his desk top into a merciless reflector, she was able to
see a few gleams of silver in the dark unruly hair. He was far
too young to be turning gray, she thought, and at the same
time noticed the blue shadows on his eyelids. Hard though he
drove others, he was an equally hard taskmaster with himself.
Unless he learned to relax he would be old before his time.
Again she saw him with more clarity than she would have
wished, and discerned the fine lines around his eyes and the
heavier ones that marked his mouth: that mocking, cruel
mouth. Quickly she averted her gaze.
"I'm not at the top yet. But thanks for the compliment."
She avoided his eyes. "I suppose you wish to see me about the
canteen?"
"I do. The takings are going up. I thought you'd be pleased to
know."
"I'm giving the men what they want." Laura kept her voice
expressionless. "It's obviously working—as you knew it would.
If I cut out the salads and fruit desserts, you'll need to
subsidize it even less."
"I don't want you to cut out anything," he replied. "And you're
still trying to make me say the things you'd like me to!"
There was sufficient truth in his remark to make her careful how
she replied to it. Drat the man for being able to read her
thoughts! And drat him for making her feel so small.
"We don't like each other," she said slowly, "so we're both on
the defensive. I'm always anticipating that you'll make some
snide remark about my being a sophisticated Londoner, while
you're waiting to hear me call you a country bumpkin!"
He chuckled. "You've hit the nail on the head. Looks like we're
both at fault."
Forced to tilt back her head in order to see him, she found he
looked different when viewed from below. How firm his chin was
and how thick and sinewy his neck. Here was no boy to tease or
mock, but a man of fierce pride and even fiercer temper.
"Why not?"
Sensing his mounting rage, she pushed back her chair and
stepped away from him. Even so she could smell the shaving
lotion he used. It was the same kind she had given Tim for
Christmas. Yet on this man it had a different scent,
compounded of part tobacco and part indefinable masculinity
that set her nerves on edge.
"Never mind that. I'm just interested in what you've said. You
obviously see no difference between the sexes. In your world,
women are as strong and as capable as men."
"Exactly."
"I talk like a realist. Perhaps some women put a career before
marriage and would rather have a degree instead of a baby.
But-"
" Why can't women have both?'' Because children need caring
for—like men! You can't put 'em in the deep freeze and take
'em out when it suits you!"
"I agree about the children," Laura said, striving not to lose her
temper, "but men aren't babies to be cared for in the same way.
If they contribute properly to a marriage, with their time as well
as their money—"
"Not the women I've met. We don't only come from different
parts of the country, Mr. Andrews, we come from a different
century!"
"Maybe that's why I've never found you real," he said slowly.
"Why I look at you and see a truly beautiful girl who never even
stirs my pulses. I've often wondered if I was sickening for
something. Never met a lovely-looking female yet who didn't do
something to me! And then you came along—figure like a
goddess and hair like fire—but you leave me cold. Stone cold."
"Then maybe this will warm you up!" Before she could stop
herself, Laura's hand shot out and caught him a stinging blow
on the cheek.
In the silence that followed she saw the mark of her fingers
grow pink on his skin and felt her own skin grow pink with the
shame of it. How could she have let him rile her into behaving
like a shrew?
"I thought you said you weren't keen on Robert?" her father
reminded her one Sunday afternoon as she came into the
sitting room, coat over her arm.
"I said I wasn't in love with him, "she corrected. "And that still
goes. "She dropped her coat over the back of the chair and
answered the next question before it came. "Seeing him is
better than going out on my own."
Sniffing her disbelief, she preceded him into the sitting room
and had hardly seated herself when the bell rang again.
"That must be Robert,"she exclaimed and ran out.
Smitten with conscience, she quickly drew away from him. "I'll
get my coat," she said breathlessly, "and we can go."
"Mr. Andrews came to play chess with dad," Laura said, entering
the room and answering before anyone else had the
opportunity.
Not trusting herself to answer, she stalked into the kitchen and
mutinously set the tray. Making the toast, she resisted the urge
to put on ginger instead of cinnamon. What delight it would
have given her to make things really hot for the bossy hunk of
male conceit warming himself so contentedly at a fireside that
wasn't his!
When she wheeled in the trolley, the chess set was already set
out on the table, although no one was playing.
With bland disregard for her tone, Jake Andrews did as she had
bid, and after her father had refused an offer of a cinnamon
finger, proceeded to demolish the lot himself.
"Didn't you have any lunch?" she asked, looking at the empty
plate.
"That's the best way of getting ulcers," she said before she
could stop herself.
"I'm glad she has such a good influence on you," the older man
said dryly. "I'll have to put her on the factory floor if production
starts lagging!"
"So I've noticed." Gray eyes sought out Laura's own and held
them.
Only Jake Andrews held out his cup, and keeping her eyes
downcast, she filled it and passed it back to him.
"Looks as if the rain's set in for the afternoon," her father said.
"If you and Robert want to watch television, it won't disturb us."
"I'd call that a good thing," Jake Andrews intervened. "At least
it means folk talk to each other instead of sitting around the
goggle-box like a load of zombies!"
At once Robert lost all trace of his earlier reserve, and with
economics as the starting point, the two men began to talk to
one another, occasionally interrupted by John Winters.
Coversation ranged over many different topics, and Laura
listened in silence, dismayed at the frequency with which she
agreed with Jake.
Jake! She caught herself up sharply. What had made her think
of him by his first name when she made such an effort to call
him Mr. Andrews? It was probably because her father always
referred to him as Jake. She must make sure she did not use it
herself by accident.
Talk had now turned to music, and again she found herself
agreeing with him. It was disquieting to find there was hardly
any comment of Robert's with which she concurred.
"Why are you so quiet, Laura?" her father asked, unused to her
being silent.
"I don't like interrupting men when they're talking," she said
sweetly.
John Winters bit hard on his pipe, and it was left to Robert to
bridge the silence.
"I'll grant you that," came the surprising answer. "I couldn't
abide my art teacher, so I didn't do a stroke of work. All I've
ever learned about art has come through reading."
"And be odd man out?" The dark head inclined toward Laura.
"Thanks for the offer, but no."
"I'll help you," Robert murmured, and followed her out to the
kitchen.
"Did you have to ask him to come to Manchester?" she said
crossly the moment they were alone. "Don't you know the last
thing in the world he wants is to be taught anything, and
especially by us!"
"That isn't my intention. I'm just trying to make you see we're
friends—nothing more."
"It's lovely having someone with whom I can share things, "she
said.
"Why?"
Though she put conviction in her voice, she was not convincing
herself. She knew exactly what Robert meant; knew the reason
for it, too. Away from Eddie- stone she was no longer afraid of
turning a corner and bumping into Jake Andrews. Yet why
should she be afraid of seeing him? It was a question that had
plagued her for several weeks, and though many answers had
come to mind, none of them had satisfied her.
Angrily she tried to push him out of her thoughts. Her dislike of
him was so strong that she was unable to stop thinking of him.
If she were in love with him he couldn't be occupying her
thoughts more!
"Are we far from the gallery?" she asked to change the subject.
For the next hour and a half Laura forgot everything except the
delicacy of the paintings that adorned the walls around her.
Though no lover of muted colors, preferring the more robust
medium of oils and the vivid palette of the French
Impressionists, she was entranced by the luminous quality the
artist had imparted to his work, and even when they left the
gallery and made their way to the garage where they had
parked their car, she was still under the spell of what she had
seen.
For that reason she was unaware of the slow progress they
made out of the city, and the masses of men and boys pushing
against the car and forcing Robert to slow almost to a crawl. It
was not until he gave a sharp exclamation that she returned to
the present and noticed the crowds.
"Not like our beloved boss," came the comment, and Laura
followed Robert's gaze till her eyes came to rest on Jake
Andrews's burly figure pushing along with the rest of the crowd.
"What rumor?"
"Why shouldn't they?" Laura made her voice casual. " Is she the
black sheep of Eddlestone?''
Robert gave a low whistle and Laura could not help laughing,
although it was not an entirely amused sound. "Aren't you sorry
my father's only a poor hard-working engineer?"
Simpson I'd never have plucked up the courage to ask you out"
"You know you don't believe that," Robert stated. "If a man has
the money it's no problem. He can marry a poor girl and people
will still give her the benefit of the doubt. But if a girl has the
cash, then it's a different story. She can be as beautiful as an
angel but everyone will believe the poor guy who marries her
did it for her loot."
"In which case," Robert said with a shake of his head, "they'll
say money married money—so they could both be sure they
weren't taking each other for a ride!"
"Thanks for the admission." His hand came out and clasped
hers. "At least that's one problem you and I don't have. No one
can say we're going out with each other to feather our nests…
or our ambitions."
"You seem to know a lot about our boss's emotional needs," she
commented.
The football crowds had thinned and Robert was able to drive at
normal speed. "How about our staying in Manchester for the
evening and taking in a show?"
"Phone him."
She shook her head." I don't like leaving him alone all afternoon
as well as the evening. It's not that he'd mind," she added
quickly. "In fact he'd be annoyed if he knew I was saying this.
But it's the way I feel myself."
"He looked very much at home when I saw him there the other
day."
"Don't act the jealous boyfriend," she said. "I don't find it
funny."
"Sorry." Robert sounded subdued. "But you can't deny that he's
everything most girls want. Handsome, clever and very sure of
himself."
"So sure of himself that I find him a bore," Laura said firmly.
"He leaves me cold. Stone cold."
The words reminded her of the ones Jake himself had said to
her not long ago, and mortification brought an edge to her
voice.
"I think I will phone dad," she exclaimed. "I rather fancy an
evening out."
Before, she had taken his indifference for granted; now, each
encounter she had with him left her feeling gauche and
insignificant. Because of this, Robert's adoration was balm to
her wounded self-respect, and her earlier decision not to make
use of him lessened into mere intention.
Yet inevitably conscience did rear its sharp head, and one
Saturday afternoon a few weeks after their trip to Manchester,
she warned him again not to regard her as his girl friend.
"Let me be the judge of that. You're the loveliest girl I've ever
met—apart from being beautiful, witty, clever and-"
"Stop it! You're acting like a fool. I'm an ordinary girl. Nothing
more, nothing less. If you'd met me in London you wouldn't
have looked at me twice. But up here there's no competition, so
I seem better than I am!"
"That's what I'm trying to do, but you won't listen to me.
"Yes."
"I wish you meant that. I'd rather you were scared of me than
look on me as some tame dog!"
"But it's true. Good old Robert. That's how you think of me, isn't
it?"
"Thanks!"
He reached for her hand-and she let him retain it. They were
taking their usual Saturday afternoon stroll over the moors^and
for a while they walked in silence. But his remark about being
at college with Elaine Simpson remained in her mind,
tormenting her until she was forced to speak. "Is she as clever
as she's pretty?"
"Who?"
Laura blushed. Elaine Simpson was so real to her that she had
made the mistake of thinking Robert would know whom she
meant. "The girl we… the one we saw with Jake Andrews," she
said, hoping her voice sounded as offhand as she intended it to
be.
Laura kept her head averted. "So she hasn't known the boss
man all that long?"
"Only since she got back. They might have met in the past but I
doubt it. Our Jake was too busy furthering his career to bother
with women."
"I don't see why not." Laura remained stubborn. "He's very
ambitious, and what could be better than marrying into one of
the top engineering companies in the country!"
"When you put it like that, I suppose you're right." Robert still
seemed dubious and Laura knew he did not mean what he said.
She was annoyed, yet at the same time irrationally pleased that
he did not think Jake so mercenary.
"As much fun as you want to make it," Robert said with
unexpected force. "I don't intend to let you mope around the
house."
"I'll probably have a load of cooking to do. I'm sure Tim will be
home for it."
"That won't tie you down, will it? Elaine's invited me to a party
and I'd like you to come with me.''
"That's just an excuse. You know darn well he doesn't want you
baby-sitting him."
She was forced to agree and knew that her argument against
going to the party had been weak. "Let's talk about it nearer
the time," she suggested. "Christmas is still three weeks away."
"Of course I'm not jealous. I've never heard of such a thing!"
"I'd like to do that," she said promptly, "but I don't see how I
can."
"Your father liked it when I first baked one for him," she
explained, "and as I made a double mixture this time, I thought
I'd best share it with you, rather than have it grow stale."
"Tea, o' course," the woman said stoutly. "Can't let Yorkshire
down by saying I prefer coffee!"
"I won't tell anyone," Laura smiled. "Then coffee it shall be!"
"Home is where the heart is," her father exclaimed when she
tried to tell him something of what she felt. "If you fell in love
with someone who lived here, you'd be more than happy to
make Eddlestone your home."
She gave her father a searching look and though he met it with
a bland one, she knew he had been teasing her.
"I'm here for Christmas lunch. Have a heart, Laura. What can a
fellow do in a dead-and-alive hole like this?"
"Spend a quiet few days with his family," she murmured. "It
would at least make a change! It's ages since you've been
here."
"That's why I was hoping you'd at least stay for the whole
weekend."
Tim had to be taken on his own terms or not at all; and she well
knew what those terms were. Yet despite his faults she loved
him enough to overlook them; loved him too much, perhaps, for
he had used her devotion many times to get him out of scrapes
and would undoubtedly do so again.
"Don't be angry with me," he pleaded. "You can't blame me for
wanting a bit of fun."
"I was going to suggest you come along to a party with Robert
and me."
"You're not too inhibited to ask me for help when you need it,"
she could not help saying.
"Am I?" Here was the opportunity she had wanted, and she
took it quickly, lest the moment slip away. "Then perhaps you'll
tell me why you left Grantley's and came up North? And don't
fob me off by saying you wanted to work where you weren't
known as dad's son."
"But it's the truth. I was fed up being under dad's- eye."
"I don't believe you. Be honest with me. Did you do anything
wrong?"
"Yes, I did. I stole the Crown Jewels! "The face so like her own
was suffused with angry color. "Honestly, Laura, if you keep on
nagging at me I won't bother coming home at all!"
" I don't mean to pry,'' she began. "Then don't. And stop telling
me how good you are to me. It's becoming a bore."
She turned away to hide her hurt. How sneering Tim could be,
how forgetful of the innumerable times she had helped him—
often at great expense and trouble. "I'm sorry, Laura."
Unexpectedly she felt his hand on her shoulder. "I didn't mean
all that rot I just spouted. I'm a bit on edge today. Overwork, I
think. But you know I wouldn't hurt you for the world."
The gray, snow-filled skies that cast their pallid glow over the
deserted streets did not have the strength to illumine the sitting
room; thus the light came from a standard lamp that shed
gentle rays over the silver gray hair of the man. Seen in this
light, John Winters looked almost as carefree as he had before
his wife's tragic death, reminding Laura forcibly that her father
was only fifty-five, with many years ahead of him. Tragic to
think he would have to spend them alone.
Moving forward, she rested against his chair and put her hand
on his cheek. "I'll call Robert and tell him I don't want to go to
the Simpsons' party. I don't feel in the mood."
"You'd have been quite happy to have gone if Tim had stayed
here."
"That's different."
"Why?"
"Tim likes parties."
"Don't you?"
"Not this one. I don't even know the girl who's giving it!"
"I'd hardly call it that. After all, you're going as Robert's guest."
"I'd rather stay here. We have masses of cold turkey and I can
make a salad and—"
"I want you to go, Laura. I'd like you to tell me what you think
of Harold Simpson. If you get the chance of meeting him, that
is."
"And you didn't contact him again? Honestly, dad—" she could
not hide her rueful humor "—if you'd worked for him instead of
Grantley's, you might have been on the board by now."
"Or scrubbing the floors! Harold wasn't the easiest chap in the
world to get on with even when he was poor. Lord knows what
he's like now he's made millions."
"Why haven't you called him since you've been here? He'd at
least know you weren't looking for a job now."
Her father's only reply was a mumble that meant nothing. Not
that he needed to put his answer into words; it was obvious his
reluctance stemmed from a fear of being thought sycophantic.
"Beth?"
"His sister."
"I don't. But I caught a glimpse of her when Robert and I were
in Manchester a few weeks ago. She was with Mr. Andrews."
"With Jake?" Gray eyebrows rose. "How old would she be?"
"About my age."
"Good-looking?"
"Of course not," she said hastily, then rushed on. "She's pretty
and very glamorous. Long blond hair and very slim… you know
the type!"
"Aye. Sexy."
"Fancy Jake going 'round with Harold's lass," John Winters said
half to himself. "Harold could just do with a man of Jake's
knowledge."
"I should have thought the boot was on the other foot."
"Very much so." Her father took her words at face value. "And
he'll go higher still. Mark my words, lass. Jake will end up
chairman before he's forty.''
"You're biased!"
"You can come over whenever you like. Tim had to go back and
dad cotild do with a bit of cheering up.''
"Dressed-up casual!"
"Mayfair hippies," she sighed.
"On the nail, my pet." His voice lowered. "What are you wearing
now?"
"A flowered apron and curlers!" She giggled. "In a few more
years you 'll end up a dirty old man."
She was still dressing when she heard him arrive and, listening
to her father greet him, was again assailed by conscience. If
only she could get out of the invitation. Not only did she dislike
leaving her father alone on Christmas night, but she also
disliked the thought of meeting Jake Andrews socially.
"With honors!" Robert said, letting his gaze rest on the velvet
trousers that clung tightly to her hips and the long length of her
thighs.
Well pleased with his admiration, she turned to give her father a
hug. "I'll put your supper on a tray and—"
"I wish I could. But I don't expect miracles. I know you 'll never
settle down here."
He pointed with his hand and she saw they were driving
between massive iron gates that stood sentinel before a wide,
perfectly maintained driveway, bordered with shrubs. The
house, when it finally came into view, was a huge Gothic
mansion redeemed from spookiness by the abundance of lights
that blazed from its windows.
"Did he, indeed! And is that all he intends sending me? I'll have
more to say about that. Where's your father now? Give me his
number and I 'll call him."
She said nothing though her swift glance around the opulent
surroundings must have spoken for her, for he gave a grunt and
patted her hand.
"You tell your father that I never expected him to let money
come between us. And also tell him that I'll be along to see him
if he's too much of an inverted snob to come and see me."
"He told me about you. And I caught a glimpse of you when you
came to the hospital."
"The hospital?"
"I see." Laura's curiosity got the better of her. "What do you do
there?"
"It does, rather. It's a bit unusual, you must admit. I mean,
nursing's so hard."
Yet looking at her Laura was struck by the warmth of her face,
with its mobile mouth and bright blue eyes that radiated
cheerfulness. She had no doubt Sister Simpson was a tonic to
all her patients.
"Well, I mustn't keep you away from your party," the woman
went on, then glanced at Robert. "It's a long time since you
were here, young man."
"You tell him nothing of the sort!" A slight flush stained Beth
Simpson's cheeks, and moving forward quickly, she opened the
door in front of her. "Join the madhouse!"
"How lovely to see you after all this time, darling. I thought you
had forgotten all about me.''
"I could say the same to you," he replied, "except that I know
you don't go fishing for minnows any longer."
"Not now I'm angling for salmon!" Elaine drawled and looked
pleased with herself, as though delighted to know she was the
subject of gossip and conjecture. Swinging around to Laura
again, she flashed her a smile. "Are you here for the holidays,
Miss Winters?"
"Then you must be the girl Jake told me about—the one who
runs the canteen."
"I would never have guessed you do think!" Laura said in the
same little-girl voice.
There was a chuckle behind her and Jake came into view, his
muscular body emphasized by well-fitting slacks and a wool
sweater in an unusual shade of maroon, too dark to be wine,
yet too red to be purple. But it gave warmth to his tanned skin
and increased the blackness of his hair. Beside him, all the
other meijt in the room paled into insignificance, and though
she disliked him deeply, she had to admit that as a purely
physical specimen of manhood, he took a lot of beating.
"I thought I went out of my way to let you win our arguments,"
Laura said quickly.
"I'm relaxing now," he said and drew her onto the floor.
Held close in his arms she appeared even more fragile, and she
nestled against his shoulder, her face clothed in a look
compounded of languor and triumph. Above the blond head
Jake's gray eyes stared into Laura's, and she turned away from
them quickly, her whole being filled with anger.
"It is, if you work with him. Everyone should relax some time."
"Jake would find that harder than most. When you've been the
provider since you were a child, it's almost impossible to learn
there's no longer any need to drive yourself to the limit." Seeing
Laura's puzzlement, she looked rueful. "I can see you don't
know about his background."
Heat radiated through Laura's body. "I… I'd no idea, I only said
it as a joke."
"I don't know about you two ladies, but I'm starving."
"And not too much for me," Laura added, and watched as he
pushed his way through the crowd.
She hoped he would not return until she had had a chance to
question Beth Simpson further; what she had learned about
Jake had astonished her, and she wanted to hear the whole
story without making her curiosity too obvious.
"He ran off," came the correction. "Left Jake and his mother
when the boy was five. No one ever heard of him again. He did
leave some sort of note by way of apology, I believe. Something
about not being able to stand sick women."
"Sick women?"
"I did. She only died a couple of years back. Jake was
marvelous with her. Took her out and about as if she were able
to walk."
Beth gave a dry laugh. "That sounds just like him: making a
joke of the things he cares about most. You won't find a gentler
or kinder man in the county… or anywhere else for that matter."
Quickly she spoke again. "It must have been hard for him. I
mean he's done so well… going to university and making a
career for himself."
"He worked night and day to achieve it. And he has a first-class
brain. That's always a help! He got every scholarship going.
Won a place to Cambridge but wouldn't take it on account of
not wanting to leave his mother. Went to Manchester University
instead and came home each night When other boys would be
out courting the girls, you'd find Jake wheeling his mum about
and treating her like a queen." Beth's voice was husky. "Never
took a brass farthing from anyone and only bought what they
could afford. Sometimes I felt they had too much pride… felt
they made their lives harder than they need have done."
"I can understand why," Laura said slowly. "If you relied on
someone and they let you down—like the father did—I can see
why you'd decide never to be beholden to anyone again; to vow
that if you can't get something by your own efforts, then you
won't have it at all."
Even to herself she could not explain her interest in a man she
did not like. Yet perhaps that in itself was the reason: her desire
to find further evidence that he warranted her antipathy.
Unfortunately, the quest had backfired with a vengeance.
Instead of cause to dislike him more, she had been given ample
evidence to show her opinion of him was not only erroneous but
unjustified. Yet not completely unjustified, for he had gone out
of his way to give her a wrong impression of himself. But why?
It was a question she could not answer and her eyes wandered
around the room till they found a pair of broad, maroon-colored
shoulders. A strand of long blond hair trailed across it and she
hastily averted her face.
"How do you like living up here?" Beth's voice broke into Laura's
thoughts and she was glad of it.
"I'll let you know when we're holding our next session," Beth
intervened. "It's generally here, but some times we go to other
members' homes. There's potholing too, if you like that sort of
thing."
"I've never tried. But I'd love to have a go." Laura regarded
Robert with suspicion.
"Delighted."
"Oh no, you don't," he said, drawing her back into his hold. "I'm
not going to let you escape as easily as that!"
"A yard away from me? You're in the wrong civilization, lass.
Nowadays we dance like this." He lowered his head until his
chin rested on her hair, his arms tight around her body and his
breath warm on her ear.
"I could accuse you of many things, Mr. Andrews, but never
that."
"I loathe the way people call each other by their first name the
moment they meet."
"You can hardly say we've just met. It's been several months."
His voice grew deeper. "Laura. It's a beautiful name. Calm and
peaceful."
"Don't you feel you're a bit to blame?" She was silent and he
gave her a slight shake. "Come, lass, it's Christmas. Show me a
bit of goodwill."
Knowing it was churlish to refuse—and also because she did not
want to—she smiled up at him.
"I'm not letting you go anymore this evening," the girl said to
Jake reproachfully. "You've done more than enough duty
dances. This is a Christmas party, not an office dance!"
"One day I'll put my hands 'round your pretty little neck and
wring it!" he commented.
"I don't care where you hold me just as long as you do!"
The music began again and Laura moved close to Robert. "I
think we're de trop, darling."
Not looking at Jake, she allowed Robert to guide her away, but:
she followed his steps automatically, conscious only that for a
few moments she had come dangerously close to liking a man
of whom instinct had warned her to beware.
Learning about his past had softened her attitude toward him.
There was nothing like a rags to riches saga to melt a feminine
heart. And the story of the young boy working to support his
mother and never leaving her, no matter how great the
temptation, had been enough to do the trick twice over. Small
wonder she had been taken in by his show of friendliness, not
guessing it to have been prompted by duty toward his able and
competent canteen supervisor!
She was still dancing with Robert when the lights— already dim
—grew considerably dimmer, and amid ribald remarks and the
sound of some high-pitched giggling, the music became slow
and languorous.
"This is more like it," Robert said, and bent his head, his mouth
searching for hers.
A husky laugh close by gave the lie to this belief; tonight was
quite different, if only because Jake Andrews was there and she
had been forced to see him in another light. Again there came a
husky laugh and, half turning her head, she saw the faint gleam
of a blond one and a pale, upturned face that, as she watched
it, was covered by a darker, tanned one.
"You seem edgy. And, when I kissed you, I had the feeling you
were miles away."
It was the first excuse that came into her head, and she was
pleased when Robert accepted it without question.
"No," she cut in. "My feelings haven't changed in that respect."
"I'm not sure. Maybe it's because we're twins. When he lived at
home with us I knew his friends and where he went. But now
his whole life seems a secret and—"
"He's not a baby, you know. He has a good job, you said so
yourself, and he's not short of money. That's one sure way of
guaranteeing he won't get into trouble."
"Laura!"
"Don't take any notice of me," she murmured. "I shouldn't have
said it."
"Are the stars in your eyes preventing you from seeing me?"
The two men looked at each other and laughed, the joint sound
making it appear they were sharing a joke against the female of
the species.
"Darling." The heart-shaped face tilted toward him and the full
mouth curved invitingly.
Jake shook his head, a slight smile marking his own wide
mouth."Enough'senough, baby."
Laura caught Robert's smile. To see Jake with his face covered
in lipstick was bad enough, but to have to listen to his smug,
self-satisfied conversation was more than she could tolerate.
"It's late, Robert. We must go."
"Wait in the hall while I fetch the car," Robert said. "I don't want
you to catch cold."
"Try it on."
Beth spoke behind her and Laura turned to see the woman
framed in the doorway.
"It'll probably swamp you but at least it will give you some idea
of what sable is like to wear!"
"I haven't thought about it. If I say I am, it might sound like
sour grapes!"
Laura avoided the brown eyes. "Was that why you told me
about him?"
"He cares too much," Beth corrected. "I thought you were a
sufficient judge of character to know that."
Together they walked into the hall where Robert was waiting by
the front door.
Laura held out her hand to Beth. "Don't forget to let me know
about the next musical evening."
Some five or six people tumbled from the car in a flurry of fur
coats and leather jackets, their voices loud in the clear air.
"Just you try it," a swaying young man called across the
darkness.
"How dare you talk like that?" Her voice was low with disgust.
"Haven't you even got the decency to apologize, or don't you
care that you might have killed someone? "
"Laura!" Tim swayed in front of her. "I didn't know it was you."
"I just took the bend too fasht. Too fast," he corrected himself
solemnly.
"Then you should have had more sense, too," she said angrily.
"Neither of you is fit to be in a pram, let alone a car!"
"Stuff it, will you?" Tim said angrily. "No one was hurt."
"Someone could have been hurt—killed even."
"How right you are," Laura said, catching his arm. "The best
thing you can do is to come home with me. Robert's car is over
there and—"
"Stuff it!" Tim said rudely. "I'm not going home with anybody
yet."
"Leave him alone, Laura." Robert was standing beside her, his
expression mirroring her own distress.
True to his word, Harold Simpson made the first overture to his
old friend, calling at the house one evening without even
bothering to telephone.
"I knew if I called you, you'd find some excuse for putting me
off," he explained, laughing at the sight of John Winters's
discomfiture. "You always were proud and obstinate."
"That's good to hear. Once you get brass, you start wondering
who your real friends are. I don't have that sort of problem with
you."
From then on the two men saw each other regularly, and Laura
was particularly pleased when her father went to visit Harold
Simpson, for it forced him into some social life instead of the
continual round of engineer's workshop and home.
From Beth she heard nothing, and as the weeks passed, she
wondered if the woman had forgotten her promise. Then one
lunchtime, during her busiest hour in the canteen, she received
a telephone call from her.
Reddening, she signaled one of the girls to take her place and
followed him to a table. He set out his lunch and picked up his
knife and fork. "Why don't you get yourself something to eat at
the same time?''
The moment she had spoken she could have kicked herself, for
he grinned broadly.
"I didn't. We can do that another time." He put down his fork.
"How are you settling down in Eddlestone?"
She did not hide her surprise at his question. "I'm getting used
to it. Why?"
Only then did she understand the reason for his curiosity. "What
makes you think he's worrying?" "I can tell from his manner.
There's summat on his mind. That's for sure."
Jake rubbed the side of his face. "No, lass. He wouldn't let that
effect his work. It's several years since your mother died."
"Does that make his grief any the less?" she flared. "Or don't
you ever think of your mother now she's dead?"
She pushed back her chair. "If you've finished with me…”
That night, over supper, she deliberately forced her father into
making more conversation than usual and could not find any
reason to agree with Jake's earlier comments.
"It's good to share your problems," she said. "That's what you
Ve always told me."
"I don't see why not. I may be able to help you if—"
"No, Laura. There's nothing you can do. I'll sort it out myself."
"I didn't know caving was one of your hobbies." She spoke
more coolly than she felt, annoyed with Beth for deliberately
singling Jake out to escort her.
"There are lots of things you don't know about me," came his
cheerful answer.
When they finally reached the mouth of the cave, after a long
walk in a wind that had unexpectedly grown sharp, she was
trembling both with cold and fear, and as she waited for the
safety line to be secured around her she wished with all her
heart that she was safely at home. Desperately she glanced
around and found Jake at her side.
"You'll be fine once you get going," he said. "It's always racking
the first time."
"It'syour turn, lass," he said, and gave her a slight tap on the
shoulder.
When everyone was down and the safety lines coiled, flashlights
were brought out and they moved slowly along the low tunnel
that connected their cavern with the vast range of caves
beyond. As the small patch of blue sky grew smaller, Laura was
filled with panic at being cut off from the world above and could
well understand why Robert had flatly refused to join her.
Indeed, had it not been for the knowledge that Jake was
directly behind her, she would have given up there and then.
"Do people do this for fun?" she gasped as they bent double in
order to inch their way along a tunnel.
"That'sall I need!"
"Suspend judgment for the moment. It's the end result that
counts. Look!"
"I always expect to see Oberon and Titania," Jake replied. "A
much better setting for them than a forest."
"Safer than torches! But don't worry, this is the only cave that's
been tamed. From here on we fan out among the side channels
and we have to rely on batteries." He grinned at her. "For the
rest of the day you'll be in my power."
He grinned, his teeth white in the gloom. "I can see you've
caught the pothole virus!" Crouching low, he motioned her to
use his back as a ladder. Forgetting all embarrassment she did
so, scrambling through the opening and waiting until he swung
himself up after her.
They crawled forward for a few yards but soon the channel
widened sufficiently for them to walk upright. In the distance
came the sound of a subterranean waterfall and she quickened
her pace, stopping with a gasp of irritation as she found her
way blocked by a large boulder.
Carefully she edged through the narrow gap and had just
rounded the side of the big rock when the ground moved
beneath her feet. With a scream she clutched at the boulder,
her arms taking the weight of her body as the earth gave way
even more.
Gingerly Laura moved one foot. The ground beneath her shook
and she heard the sound of stones falling, the noise continuing
for what seemed an interminable length of time before they
finally ceased their journey far below.
"I know. Keep as still as you can. I'll try to get through."
"You'll never make it."
He did not answer and she heard the rustle of clothing. Too
frightened to speak, she waited. The strain of supporting her
weight on her arms was beginning to tell on her and the dull
ache in her shoulders was fast becoming an agony that
threatened to destroy rational thought
"You must!"
"I can't hold on," she repeated. "My arms… I can't manage it."
Stung into anger by his gibe, she let go of the rock with one
hand and swung it toward him. The movement dislodged more
earth beneath her feet and the ledge on which she was
balancing gave way completely. She felt herself sliding down
and screamed out sharply, her voice jerking into a yelp of pain
as Jake gripped her hand and arm and took the full weight of
her body.
"Don't move, Laura." His voice was strained and thin, as though
pulled taut by the same pressure that was pulling his muscles
and hers. "I can't squeeze forward any farther and I can't bend
to lift you. All I can do is to inch back and pull you with me. If
your feet can find something to step on—a stone or a small hole
to give you a toehold—it will ease your weight… for me and for
yourself."
"I'll try," she gasped, and gingerly explored with one foot and
then with the other, all the time aware of the strain she must be
for him and of the screaming pain of the muscles in her
shoulder.
Slowly she inched her foot along the rocky wall. It felt smooth
with no foothold anywhere. Suddenly her toe scraped against
something and she carefully rested part of her weight on it. It
did not give way and she rested her foot on it completely.
"Good girl," Jake said, instantly feeling the relief. "Now I can
move a bit faster. But try to press your whole body against the
rock. That will stop you from swinging."
Only then did she see Jake clearly. In order to get as far past
the boulder as he could, he had stripped to the waist, and his
chest was bleeding profusely where the skin was scraped
against the rock.
His cheek rested against hers and she felt the sweat on his skin.
Then with a convulsive movement he turned his face and
sought her lips.
Jake's arms dropped away from Laura's body and she leaned
against the wall for support.
"But you saved my life. If it hadn't been for you, I'd be-"
"You mean people nearly plunge to their death every time they
go potholing? Honestly, Jake, give me credit for a bit of sense.
What you did was marvelous."
"I love him," she whispered to herself. "I love him!" The
admission was so new that she could hardly absorb its
implications. Pondering on all it meant, she scrambled up the
last few yards of tunnel and regained the mouth of the cave.
Never had the sky seemed so blue nor the air so fresh. Deeply
she breathed it, savoring the joy of being alive and knowing
that but for Jake she might be dead. Her heart full of happiness,
she turned toward him, waiting for him to speak.
But Beth bore down on them and Jake moved over to talk to
another couple. Following Laura's eyes, Beth smiled.
"Excellent."
"Certainly not!"
The words were so emphatic that Beth laughed. "Good. Having
you along means we can expect Jake as well."
Inflamed by the intimacy of the word "us," she shook her head
more forcibly. "I tell you I'm fine. I'd prefer to stick with the
crowd anyway."
A spark of anger lit the gray eyes, then with a curt nod to Elaine
he strode across to Laura. "Come back in the car. You look pale
as a ghost."
"Don't give me orders." Unwilling to let anyone know they were
arguing, she kept her voice low, but the vehemence was
unmistakable. "Go off with your girl friend. You've done your
duty for the day."
Aware of Beth still close by, Jake frowned. "I didn't make any
arrangements to be collected. It was left open and- "
"Jake! "Elaine called. "If we don't hurry, we'll be late for the
film."
"What was all that about?" Beth asked as the sound of the
engine died away. "Why were you and Jake arguing?"
"I'm sure Elaine didn't want to give you one, either! What got
into him? He isn't usually daft."
But then why shouldn't he have made a date with Elaine? When
he had decided to go potholing he had not known what was
going to happen; it was probably as much of a revelation to him
as it had been to her to discover the passion they could arouse
in each other. Yet if this were so, surely he would telephone her
the moment he could? Even if he could not leave Elaine tonight,
he would want to make sure that they met tomorrow.
Before the sun was up Laura was busy in the kitchen, baking
coconut cakes—Jake's favorite—and making the Sunday lunch,
doing anything and everything she could to keep her mind
occupied. Yet always Jake's face was in front of her, his gray
eyes quizzical, his wide mouth curved in the ironic smile she
had come to know so well.
"I felt like baking." She gave him a kiss. "Bacon and eggs or
pancakes? "
Laura put the teapot on the table. So that ended her hopes of
seeing him today.
"Hello, Laura," said Beth. "I'm calling to see if you and your
father would like to come over for tea this afternoon."
"If you change your mind, come along with him," Beth went on.
"Elaine won't be there, if that makes any difference."
Her father's voice made her realize she had been standing
motionless by the doorway, and she hurriedly crossed to the
oven and opened the door.
"It was Beth," she mumbled. "She's invited us over for tea."
"No!"
Calling his name, she hurried after him and found him halfway
up the stairs.
"Yes, lass?"
"I'm not unhappy about living here," she blurted out. "I don't
wantyou to think that."
"But you're unhappy about something?"
Yet even after her father had departed for the Simpsons' she
found it impossible to give way to tears and, dry-eyed and
depressed, she wandered from room to room, finally forcing
herself to sit down and look with unseeing eyes at the
television.
It was a relief when her father called her to say he had been
invited to stay on for supper, and assuring him she was fine on
her own, she went back into the living room, her body still
shaking from the expectancy that the telephone bell had
aroused in her. Fool that she was to think it might have been
Jake. Hadn't Beth's comment about her niece rushing off to
Manchester been sufficient to stop her from thinking his kisses
had meant anything other than a momentary passion, caused
no doubt by relief that she had not been killed?
She buried her head in her hands. To go from hate to love had
been such a sudden swing of mood that she wondered if it was
only transient. Perhaps tomorrow she would wake up to find she
did not care what he did or with whom he did it.
Yet as she hoped this was true, she knew it wasn't. Love once
given—even though it had been unsought for—could not easily
be retrieved. She was in for a rough time, and the quicker she
could learn to dislike Jake again, the better for her peace of
mind.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On Monday morning it required all Laura's willpower to go to
the factory, and she was shaking with nerves as lunchtime drew
near. Should she make an excuse to leave the canteen before
Jake came in or should she remain and deliberately force
herself to serve him? She longed to run away, if only for that
day, but knew that if she did, her eventual meeting with him
would be all the harder.
"I haven't time." She avoided his eyes. "But I want to thank you
for saving my life."
She dug her nails into the palms of her hands, hating him for
taunting her in this Way. "I think we… I think we should forget
what happened in the cave."
"Why should I be?" Mustering all her pride, she gave him a
sardonic smile. "Kisses don't mean anything these days."
"I had the feeling mine did, as far as you were concerned."
"Meaning?"
"Suits me." With a nod he moved away, and the moment she
could, Laura left the cash desk and went to her office.
Her encounter with Jake had shaken her, and it was an effort to
get through the rest of the day. But at last the five o'clock
hooter sounded and she collected her things and hurried blindly
down the corridor.
"Just the girl I want to see!" said Robert, stepping into her path.
"I've managed to get tickets for the preview of a new play in
Manchester and I'd like to take you."
"When?"
"Tomorrow."
Quickly she began to walk again, losing her vitality the moment
they were outside the building. She longed to tell Robert
she'had changed her mind but knew it was the worst thing for
her to do. She must go out often and not give herself time to
mope.
In the next few weeks Laura saw Robert nearly every evening,
and it was not until Nell Rampton commented on it that she
realized everyone in Eddlestone was anticipating their
engagement. Faced with increasing gossip on the one hand, or
more evenings alone on the other, she did the next best thing
possible and, cutting down on her meetings with Robert, started
to spend more time with Beth.
"I might not be able to make it Tim said he might be over for
the day."
But as usual Tim's stay in Eddlestone was short, and five o'clock
saw him speeding away again on his motorbike.
"One day he'll run out of excuses for leaving here early," his
father said sourly.
"You can't blame him," Laura said stoutly. "Being with us is a bit
like bread and bread!"
"Maybe not." There was a sigh. "What are you going to do with
yourself now?"
"You?"
"Why not?"
"I know." She bent and kissed the top of his head. "I hope I've
inherited some of your sense."
"You have, "he assured her. "Too much of it, I think. I wish you
were more romantic."
"Such as?"
His voice trailed away and he searched for his tobacco pouch,
concentrating on filling his pipe and avoiding his daughter's
eyes. Yet he had given away more of himself than he realized,
and Laura knew that the years of mourning her mother had
passed for him, and that emotions, long dead, were now
returning to life, bringing with them the need for all the things
he had just mentioned so passionately. Companionship,
closeness with a partner, the sharing of mutual pleasures. In
the past, work had been enough for him; now he needed more.
"Put on your navy suit," she said. "It makes you look
distinguished."
So it was that later that evening she and her father sat in Beth's
crowded sitting room and listened to Beethoven's Pastoral
Symphony. The beauty of the music did much to ease the
tension that had now become an accepted part of her life, and
as she relaxed in an armchair she felt calmer than she had for a
long while.
As the last movement neared its end she slipped quietly into
the next room to prepare the tea. Though Beth lived with her
brother, one small wing of the house had been made into her
own self-contained apartment, giving her the privacy without
which she would not have been content to remain so close to
him.
Cups and saucers had already been set out in the small but
beautifully equipped kitchen, and Laura put on the kettle and
removed the tea towels from the plates of sandwiches.
"Need any help?" a gruff voice asked, and she turned to see
Jake in the doorway.
"No, thanks." Hiding her trembling hands behind her back, she
regarded him with composure. "I didn't know you came to these
sessions."
Since this very thought had been uppermost in her mind, she
was disconcerted and hoped he did not find it as easy to guess
the rest of her thoughts.
"Aye, but I don't take on about things the way you do. Besides,
you're easy on the eye and I enjoy looking at you!"
His head lowered and one of his hands caught her chin, making
it impossible for her to turn away. Mesmerized, she stared into
his face. His eyes were so close that she saw herself reflected in
their pupils, then the image blurred and his lips covered hers.
Their pressure was gentle, which surprised her, for she had
expected it to be as firm as the body that uncompromisingly
rested its length upon her own.
Heat engulfed her, rushing over her body and setting her limbs
on fire. She did not seem able to control their shaking and had
his own body not been supporting her, she would have sunk to
the ground. The fire in her intensified; a flame of desire that
made pretense impossible. No matter how much she despised
him, his animal passion aroused her and her lips parted: the
first step to a greater fulfillment, one that she desired with all
her heart but that she knew could never take place between
them.
Slowly he drew back and, as his face came into focus again, she
saw the triumph that lay upon it. With something akin to
desperation she knew she had to wipe it away.
"If kissing was an Olympic sport," she drawled, "I'd give you a
gold medal. And you're so tender, too. As a lover I think you'd
be almost a gentleman!"
His eyes went blank with shock, but as life returned to them, so
did a ruddy color to his skin.
"Don't bank on it, Laura. When I get carried away, 1 can also be
brutal."
"I daresay that's what appeals to Elaine. Debby types often
seem to go for roughnecks!"
"I could make you go for me, too'" he said with soft menace
and moved close again.
me.
Breath rasped in his throat and he stepped away from her. "You
must have been a scorpion in your last life. But you don't need
to worry about me any longer. From now on I wouldn't touch
you even if you came to me gift- wrapped!"
Without another word he swung on his heel and strode from the
room, brushing unseeingly past Beth as he did so.
"Not fighting again, were you?" Beth said humorously, then lost
her bantering tone as she saw Laura's face." What's wrong
between you two?"
"Nothing. Except that Jake thinks all women are pushovers for
his sex appeal. I just made it clear that I wasn't, and he didn't
like that."
"You can assure her from me she's got nothing to worry about.
I loathe Jake Andrews."
"He isn't my type," she added lamely. "I've already told you
that."
"I can't think why. He's intelligent, good-looking and kind. All
the girls who meet him think he's sensational."
Laura shrugged and once more busied herself with the kettle.
"Isn't this discussion rather academic? After all, he has bigger
fish to fry."
"You didn't do so badly with Robert! And you're not in love with
him, are you? You said so yourself."
"Why?"
"Ambition."
"He'd get to the top more quickly if he was working for his
father-in-law."
Beth sighed. "You have a lot to learn about human nature. You
know the background he comes from. If you had the same
upbringing wouldn't you also find it flattering to have the richest
girl in the county throwing herself at you? Be fair about it, lass.
You may not like Elaine, but you have to admit she's good for a
man's ego!"
Beth's belief that he did not love Elaine brought that whole
weekend back into her mind. What if Elaine had followed him to
Manchester on the Sunday without being asked? It would be in
character for her to have done so. And if this was the case, then
Jake's first chance of making peace with herself would not have
been until he had come into the canteen on the Monday.
In a dream she helped Beth serve the tea, all the time aware of
Jake with such an instensity of feeling that she was frightened.
She longed to tell him how sorry she was for all the wounding
things she had said, but was held back by a fear of making a
fool of herself. When next she spoke to him she had to be
certain she was doing and saying the right thing.
Yet being near him and hiding her feelings was almost
impossible, and realizing she would have no chance of speaking
to him alone that night, she decided to go home early.
"I'll come back with you," her father said when she whispered
to him that she was leaving.
With surprising docility her father gave in, and Laura collected.
her coat and set off along the country lane. Although chilly, the
air was invigorating, and reluctant to face the prospect of an
empty house, she walked briskly in the direction of the town
proper. The streets were deserted, but moonlight blanched the
gray pavements and made the trees loom darker than they
were. Denuded of leaves, their tortuous branches made
grotesque shapes, though no less grotesque than her own
fanciful imaginings about Jake.
For nearly two hours she walked and it was well past midnight
when she returned home, physically exhausted but mentally
uplifted by a strange peace of mind. Tomorrow she would have
a showdown with Jake; regardless of pride she would tell him all
the conflicting emotions he aroused in her. If Beth were right
and Elaine really didn't mean anything to him, then he would
have no reason for not admitting what his true emotions had
been during that passionate interlude in the cave. If he was
falling in love with her, she would give him every
encouragement. If he wasn't———— But that was something
she refused to consider.
Her wish was granted sooner than she had expected, for as she
walked into her office her assistant informed her his secretary
had telephoned and asked her to go and see him at once.
Watching his face as he greeted her she knew her hopes were
wrong. Whatever his reason for wanting to see her, it was not
prompted by love.
"Don't give me that! You know bloody well what I mean! You
broke into my desk last night and stole some drawings of
equipment."
His fury told her he was deadly serious and her bewilderment
gave way to incredulity. "Is this something you dreamed up
because of last night?"
"He saw you," Jake repeated, his voice as heavy as the lines
that had etched themselves alongside his mouth. "There's no
point lying. He was coming down the corridor when you came
out of my room. He called out and you half turned. That's when
he recognized you."
"It's your word against his," Jake said. "And I can tell you
exactly what he said: 'There's no other lass in't factory wi' that
curly red hair!' "
Laura groped her way to a chair and sank into it. How could the
watchman have seen her here when she had been miles away?
But why would he lie? She bit hard on her lip. Unless someone
was paying him to do so. Someone who wanted to hurt her.
Jake lifted his head and stared directly into her face. His
expression was unreadable and tension could be seen in the
pale edges of his mouth.
"You left Beth's place early last night and your father stayed
behind."
"Yes."
Laura debated whether or not to tell him why she had wanted
to go home alone, and then decided that now was not the
moment. Indeed, to do so might make him think she was trying
to use emotion as a means of sidetracking him. Except that she
had nothing to run away from.
Her anger returned. "You'll have to take my word for it. I've no
intention of giving you an alibi for something I didn't do! What's
it all about, anyway? What plans am I supposed to have
stolen?"
"You know very well what they are," he said wearily. "The night
watchman isn't lying, so you can quit the act."
"I'm not acting." Her voice rose. "I tell you I didn't come near
your office last night.''
"I suppose your father knows what time you arrived home?"
"Yes." Again she almost told him the truth, and again she
decided against it. "I was… rather preoccupied and I didn't
notice the time."
"If you could tell me exactly what I'm supposed to have taken
and why it was important, perhaps we could find out-"
"It wasn't important," he cut in. "That's where you slipped up.
You thought you were getting the plans of our new machine but
you stole the old ones!"
"Yes." His voice was slurred. "Maybe you weren't going to sell
them—I'll give you the benefit of the doubt in that. Maybe you
just did it to hurt me."
"If the plans had been taken while they were in my care, it
wouldn't have endeared me to the board." His eyes lost their
dullness and glittered like chips of steel. "Luckily for me, the
new plans are in my safe—where no one can get at them. So
the whole thing was a waste of your time. However, if you took
them to sell to one of our rivals, you'd do better to put them in
the fire."
"No!" Her retort was loud and sharp. "I've no intention of taking
the easy way out. You can believe what you like." She moved to
the door. "If you wish to call the police, I 'll be waiting in my
office.''
"I'm not calling anyone. If you'd taken the real plans, I couldn't
have hushed it up. But as it is…"
"You're going to protect me," she finished for him. "How kind of
you!"
"What will you tell him?" she asked. "He'll want to know why
I've left."
"Nor did I." Remembering the high hopes with which she had
come into his office she could not disguise the bitterness in her
voice and, afraid she would break down in front of him, she
wrenched open the door.
"Laura?"
"No. Except that you'll regret this day long before I will."
She half turned at this and saw he was looking at her with
loathing. "Jake, I-"
"No more excuses," he said thickly. "Get out, Laura. You sicken
me."
Silently she left him… and left behind all her hopes of a happy
future with the man she loved.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was early afternoon when Laura returned home. Never had
the small rooms appeared less inviting, and she wandered from
the kitchen to the living room and back again, unable to settle
anywhere for long.
Jake's accusation rang in her ears like the beat of her heart. A
thief! A thief!
"But the night watchman couldn't have seen me," she said
aloud. "Not unless he was dreaming or telling lies."
Yet surely the first thing Jake would have done was to check the
man's story. Besides, if the guard was lying, he could have
found a more convincing victim than herself. But it was the very
fact that she was involved that had convinced Jake. He
genuinely thought she disliked him so much that she would stop
at nothing to harm him.
She was still digesting this unpalatable fact when her father
came home, and his greeting in no way lessened her hurt.
"So you finally let your dislike of Jake force you into leaving a
good job?"
"We did."
"What about?"
"Jake was pretty cagey about it," her father went on. "Said you
were the sort who wanted to feel she was helping the sick and
needy, not feeding hordes of strapping men!"
"It was something like that," she said quickly. "And we didn't
agree on my choice of menus."
"Then your quarrel must have been more personal than you've
admitted." John Winters put his hand on her shoulder. "Care to
tell me?"
She shook her head and lowered her eyes, but not before he
had seen the glint of her tears.
"So I was right," he murmured. "I had a feeling you cared for
him. Well, if that's the way it is, you were wise to go."
Hiding her relief that her father had jumped to this conclusion,
for it was far better than having him know the truth, she turned
away into the kitchen.
"Supper will be ready soon. It's nothing fancy, I'm afraid. I
wasn't in the mood."
"Yes. It will give this country the edge over the rest of the
world."
The anger Laura had felt earlier was nothing compared with the
anger she felt now. How could Jake have thought her capable of
stealing something of such value to her country? Even if she
had only done it to spite him, it would have been the height of
irresponsibility.
Once again she went over the conversation she had had with
him. How certain'the night watchman had been that he had
recognized her hair and face. If Jake had been accused in the
same way would she have given him the benefit of the doubt?
Remembering how bitterly she had felt toward him when she
had seen him with Elaine—until Beth's explanation of his past
had made her see he was not the type to seek out a girl merely
because she was rich—she knew full well how blinded by
jealousy one could be. If only she could believe that Jake's
misjudgment of her own character stemmed from jealousy, too!
But even if he was jealous, surely his intelligence would tell him
she was not the type to be a thief? And when he realized this,
which he was bound to do once his temper had cooled, he
would call her and apologize.
Anticipating his call, she remained in the house the whole of the
next day. But when evening came and there still had been no
word from him, her belief that he had realized his mistake
began to ebb, dying completely when the end of the week
arrived without his breaking the silence. So much for her hopes
that time would make him regret his harsh judgment of her.
Beth, like Laura's father, was also convinced she had left
Grantley's because of her feelings for Jake, and though the
woman made no mention of it the first few times they met, at
the end of a couple of weeks she could no longer keep silent.
"You can't mope for him forever," she said one evening as they
returned from a brisk walk around the block.
"I'm not moping for him," Laura replied. "I don't know why you
and dad should be so convinced I've fallen for him."
Setting the cups on the tray, Laura was reminded of the evening
at Beth's flat when Jake had pulled her into his arms and kissed
her with such passion and tenderness. Yet now he was finding
consolation in another woman's arms.
How easy it was for a man to do this. Yet how long would it be
before she herself could do the same? The very mention of
Jake's name aroused a torrent of longing that made her live in
daily fear of meeting him again. Yet this was inevitable; in a
town the size of Eddlestone it would be impossible not to bump
into him accidentally.
She gave him a nod and pulled from his grasp, intent only on
walking past. But he barred her way.
"Going out."
She saw him hesitate and braced herself for a hurtful remark.
But when he spoke, he surprised her.
He bit his lip. "You're a good actress, Laura. If I didn't know the
truth I might even be persuaded of your innocence." He moved
a step closer. "Be honest with me. Tell me why you did it. I 'll do
my best to understand.''
"I didn't do it," she said stonily. "What I said in your office was
the truth. Your night watchman couldn't have seen me because
I wasn't there!"
Anxious not to be seen, she moved past Jake, but the younger
woman was not prepared to miss an opportunity of scoring a
victory.
"Put on one of your party dresses, Laura. I'm taking you out."
"You'llhate that!"
She came downstairs to find him waiting for her in the hall.
"How pretty you look," he exclaimed. "Why don't you wear that
sapphire brooch of your mother's? It would look lovely on the
collar."
"I never knew you were a fashion expert." She smiled and ran
upstairs to get it.
The brooch was not in her jewelry box and she rummaged in
the drawer. But it was not there, either, and she started to look
through her handbags. When every bag had been searched and
the brooch had still not come to light, she stood in the center of
the room and tried to remember when she had last worn it. But
the memory evaded her and, forcing herself to remain calm,
she sat on the bed and thought again.
It was unthinkable to consider she had lost it. It had been her
father's first wedding-anniversary present to her mother and, as
such, had a value far above its material worth. It had to be
found. She must stop feeling panicky and think calmly. She had
worn it on Christmas Day. No, that wasn't true. She had worn it
at a farewell party she had given for one of her assistants at
Grant- ley's. At last it was coming back to her. During the
afternoon the clasp had worked itself loose and, afraid it would
fall off, she had put it in the drawer of her desk. Where it
undoubtedly still was.
She ran down to the hall. "I can't wear the brooch tonight, dad.
I left it in the office."
"I was in a bit of a state and forgot. After my quarrel with Jake
I… I wasn't thinking clearly."
"Now?"
"Why not? You won't want to go during the day, will you?"
"You go in and get the brooch while I turn the car around," he
said.
With a nod, Laura did as she was told. She had never been in
the factory at night, despite what Jake believed, and it was
unnerving to walk through the dimly lit corridors with the floor
echoing to her steps. Reaching the door of the office that had
once been hers, she paused, knowing a strange reluctance to
step across the threshold. Then chiding herself for being foolish,
she drew a deep breath and entered.
Quickly closing the door behind her, she ran down the corridor
intent only on leaving the building as soon as she could.
But it was. And the man was clutching her for dear life.
"Please let me go," she said coldly. "I only came in to collect
something I'd left behind."
"You're talking nonsense." She tried to pull free but the man
would not release her and she began to struggle.
She looked over the watchman's shoulder and saw her father
approaching them.
"I came to see what was keeping you," he said.
"I am." The night watchman spoke before Laura had the chance
to do so. "Sorry to be a nuisance, Mr. Winters, but I can't let
your daughter go until I've spoken to Mr. Andrews."
" What's Mr. Andrews got to do with it? She came here to collect
a brooch."
"Why?"
Her father looked at her and Laura knew that if she did not
explain, the watchman would do so; and heaven alone knew
how he would phrase it. Not that phraseology would make much
difference. Whatever way one put it, it amounted to the same
thing: a thief was a thief.
"Jake's desk was broken into a couple of weeks ago and some
plans were stolen," she said. "He… he thought I'd taken them."
"You!" John Winters's voice was high with disbelief. "You can't
be serious.''
"It was serious all right," the watchman said. "I've felt right
badly about it ever since I caught her. But I had to do my duty
and you won't get me to say I made a mistake. Wearing slacks
and a green jacket she was. Just like I told Mr. Andrews. "Sides,
I'd know that red hair anywhere."
Laura closed her eyes against the despair she knew she would
see on her father's face. If grief could kill, she would, like
Ophelia, now be in a watery grave.
"Get back to the car, Laura," her father said quietly, and then
looked at the other man. "I'll talk to Mr. Andrews in the
morning. You needn't fret about tonight. My daughter came
here with me."
Not waiting to hear any more, Laura ran out to the car. Within a
moment her father joined her and silently turned the car toward
home. She clenched her hands in fear against the tirade she
knew would be unleashed upon her, but he said nothing and the
silence was broken only by the swish of the windshield wipers
that monotonously held the rain at bay. How appropriate that
rain should have set in, she thought. It was almost as if the
heavens were crying for her.
They reached their front gate and, still without a word, went
into the house. Her father placed his coat in the closet and she
hung hers beside it. Two coats close together, yet after tonight
she and her father would never be close again.
She did as she was told and sat by the heater that her hands
had automatically switched on. Yet no amount of electricity
could warm away the deathly cold that enveloped her.
"I gather that was the real reason you left Grant- ley's?" her
father continued. "It had nothing to do with you and Jake
quarreling. It was because he thought you were a thief?"
"Why didn't you tell me the truth, lass?" Her father's voice was
so gentle that her very bones seemed to melt and she looked
up at him directly for the first time, happiness welling inside her
as she saw the expression on his face.
"Tell me what happened. Everything you did the night you were
supposed to have been in Jake's office."
She did so, aware of how thin her story sounded. "Nobody saw
me after I left Beth's," she concluded. "I just walked around,
not caring where I went, not even knowing how long I was
walking for. I was so busy thinking of Jake that—"
"Of course I wouldn't!" she flared. "If you love someone you…
you believe them."
John Winters shook his head. "Green jacket and slacks and
curly red hair. Doesn't that sound familiar to you?"
Puzzled, Laura looked at her father, and with none too gentle
hands he pulled her up and drew her to the mirror. "You look
very pretty with your hair short, don't you? And it makes you
look more than ever like Tim— particularly from the back."
Her breath caught in her throat. "You… you don't mean he… No,
not Tim!"
"Who else, then? Do you remember Beth teasing him about not
having his hair cut?"
"I can't believe it," she said. "Tim wouldn't steal those plans.
He's not a traitor."
"Not to his country," John Winters said heavily. "But any firm in
England would have bought them if they'd been the right plans.
It was just his bad luck he stole the wrong ones."
"No," she cried. "I don't believe you. He'd never do such a
thing."
"Yes. That's why he left Grantley's. He got into debt and tried to
sell a list of our customers to another company. Luckily I was
able to use my influence with the board to stop him from being
prosecuted. Sometimes I wish I'd let matters rest. It might
have done him good to face the music. But when it's your own
son it's hard to stand by and do nothing!"
"Why are you so sure it was Tim? Just because he stole a list…"
Laura ran toward her father. "You mustn't. He'll send him to
prison."
She shuddered. "I can't bear to think of it. That Tim could…"
Contritely she reached out and caught her father's hand. "I
know and I'm sorry. I'd do anything to spare you this."
"I don't care what he thinks," she said firmly. "If he hadn't any
faith in me …….."
Ignoring the question, she went into the hall and dialed her
brother's number. He picked up the telephone almost at once,
his voice so eager that she guessed he was waiting for a call
from a girl.
"Laura," he said, his voice going flat. "How nice to hear from
you. How are things at home?"
"Fine." She clutched the receiver with damp hands. "We, that is,
dad would like to see you."
"I'll probably be over for lunch next Sunday. I'll phone on Friday
and let you know for sure."
"He'd rather tell you himself. Can you come over tomorrow?"
"Well, break it," she said sharply. "We'll expect you tomorrow,
Tim."
For most of that night Laura paced the floor of her room.
Memories of her childhood would not allow her to rest, and the
escapades she and Tim had shared haunted the long hours.
Could her brother really be the thief? As she posed the question
she knew the answer. Tim had always wanted to be top dog, to
have the best of everything regardless of where the money
came from. As a youngster he had always had to have the
largest boat, the biggest bike, the latest fashion in clothes.
Many children were the same but they grew up to be normal,
decent citizens; a little more ambitious than most, perhaps,
even a little pushier. But not necessarily corrupt.
But her father had said Tim had stolen before. That was a fact
that could not be overlooked. Wearily she leaned against the
window ledge and stared at the dark, rain-lashed sky. Why was
her brother different? When had things gone wrong for him?
Was it because their mother had died when he was at an
impressionable age, or did the failure lie within himself? It was
a question even a psychiatrist could not have answered, and for
her to try to do so was ridiculous.
Once again she paced the floor. If only her own name could be
cleared without having to implicate Tim! And what would Jake
do when he learned the truth? If there was any possibility that
her brother might go to prison, she would beg her father not to
tell him who the real culprit was. No matter what personal
happiness it cost her, she could not allow Tim's life to be ruined.
She would speak to him… make him see the stupidity of his
actions… But he had already stolen before and gotten away with
it. If he went free this time, who knew where he would end up?
Raising his eyebrows, he went into the dining room, the smile
leaving his face as he saw the look on his father's."I'm here,
dad."
"Not before time." John Winters stood up, glancing at the rest
of his food with distaste. "I might have known you wouldn't be
able to go straight for long."
Tim glanced at his sister and then back to his father. "Truth
about what?"
"About the plans you stole from Grantley's. The worthless plans
you took to try to sell to someone else!"
John Winters gripped the edge of his chair until his knuckles
showed white. "Why, Tim? Why did you do it again? Why can't
you go straight?"
"I could give you plenty of reasons but they all add up to the
same thing. Monty." He glanced at his sister. "You were right,
Laura. I'm running with a fast crowd and it's hard to keep up
with them. I got into debt."
"And have you read me a sermon the way you always do!"Tim's
face changed, grew rueful. "I'm sorry, dad, I didn't mean that.
The real reason is that I didn't want you to know I'd let you
down again. I owed money all 'round and I couldn't see my way
out. Someone told me Harold Simpson was in the market for
information about his business rivals and I was here one
evening when I heard you talking on the phone to Jake
Andrews.
John Winters went paler than he already was, and Laura knew
what a blow it must be to him to realize that his old friend knew
how treacherous his son was.
It was only then that Tim showed his first sign of remorse.
"Something I'd never expected. He blew his top. Gave me the
worst bawling out of my life. Said he'd do nothing to encourage
the son of a friend of his to become a thief."
Laura, logical as ever, said, "Do you think he'd have bought the
formula if it had been the right one?"
John Winters half rose from his chair. "He did that?"
"You bet. It was too good to refuse. I was going to tell you this
weekend, Laura. I didn't know you'd be blamed for this break-
in, though. Once I discovered the plans were worthless, I took it
for granted Andrews wouldn't do anything about it."
"Did Jake strike you as the sort of man who'd ignore the fact
that his desk had been burgled?" she said angrily.
"I thought he'd assumed it was someone in the factory who was
just curious. I never dreamed he'd blame you!" Tim came over
to her. "I've not been much good as a brother, but I'd never let
you be blamed for something I'd done. Not something as
serious as this. I'll go and see Jake Andrews right away and tell
the truth."
"I don't intend to clear off and leave you to carry the blame,
"Tim said.
"No." Tim squeezed her hands tightly. "I want to make a new
life for myself, but I won't stand a chance if I leave without
clearing your name first."
Behind them their father stood up. He came over and put his
arm on his son's shoulder. "You've spoken like a man, Tim. I'm
glad.''
"A couple of miles from here. Go past Grantley's and take the
first fork on the left. It's a wide road with houses set back
behind high walls. Jake has rooms in the last one on the left."
With a half wave. Tim walked out. The front door slammed, the
motorbike revved and then there was silence.
Laura and her father looked at one another and the tears in her
eyes were reflected in his. She went to the window and pulled
aside the curtain. It was raining again and the wind moaned
through the trees.
"What do you think Jake will do?" she asked. "Do you think he'll
have Tim arrested?"
"I doubt it. First he'll tear a strip off him—which Tim won't
forget in a hurry—then he'll come here and eat dirt." Her father
half smiled. "As much as you'll dish out to him."
She let the curtain drop back into position, remembering the
time, so long ago it seemed now, when she had gone to
Grantley's on a Monday morning determined to put aside her
pride and tell Jake she loved him. But now such a confession
was out of the question. If he could have believed her to be a
thief, he could have no deep understanding of her.
"Don't judge Jake too harshly," her father said. "He was always
sensitive where you were concerned. That's why he resented
you. You got under his skin in a way no woman has ever done."
"I've worked with him. I've talked with him far into the night.
You mean something to him."
"I didn't want to interfere. But since you left the factory I've
been watching him; and a man of Jake's temperament doesn't
act the way he's been acting, unless he's in a hell of a state.
Mark my words, lass, he'll be here within the hour."
Slowly she went to the front door and opened it. Jake stood on
the threshold. Rain had flattened his hair and ran in rivulets
down his face. He stared at her without a word and she
stretched out a hand.
"Jake! I'm so glad you came." He stepped into the hall and only
then, as the light fell on his face, did she see tautness in his
features. Her joy seeped away. "What's wrong?"
Without replying he put his hand under her elbow and led her
into the living room.
Jake lowered his head. "He ran straight into a brick wall. It was
the only way he could miss the child and he took it."
"You mean he______ " She could not go on and Jake finished
the sentence for her.
"He's dead. I ran back but there was nothing I could do." His
voice shook. "Tim didn't have a chance. It was him or the child.
I know it's not much consolation to you, but he died like a
hero."
Laura looked at her father and then turned l(o Jake, knowing in
that instant what she had to say.
"Tim was here to dinner. He was on his way home and must
have taken a wrong turn."
Across the room she stared at him and, knowing what she was
pleading for, he looked away. Tim had never lived like a hero
but he had died like one, and no matter what happened to her
own life, she had no intention of doing anything to diminish the
brave way he had chosen death.
CHAPTER NINE
Although Laura was content with the decision she had made not
to tell Jake about Tim, her father was in total disagreement
and, a week after Tim's funeral, told her he was not going to be
a party to her silence. A momentary temptation almost made
her accept this, but love for her twin was stronger still, and she
stubbornly insisted that nothing be done to smirch his name.
"But Tim wanted Jake to know the truth," her father insisted.
Accepting this, her father did not broach the subject again, and
they both tried to resume the pattern of their lives. Laura was
too apathetic to do anything except remain at home. She had
not seen much of Tim in the past year, yet his death left a gap
in her life that she felt could never be filled.
"You've got to snap out of this depression," Robert said one day,
when she voiced her thoughts to him. "You know Move you. I
wish you'd marry me."
"At least think about it." He caught her hand. "Will you?"
"I'll undertake to see his protein intake doesn't suffer the nights
you can't get home!"
The telephone bell interrupted her and she went to answer it,
almost dropping the receiver as she heard Jake's voice, brusque
and blunt as ever. So much for her hopes that he meant nothing
to her. Shaking, she leaned against the wall.
"You're the one I want. Professor James has sent me the report
you've written about our canteen. He wants me to let him
publish it."
"Yes. But I've a few things I'd like to add to it. I'm in my office
now. Get over here as soon as you can and I 'll tell you what
they are."
Entering his office she was reminded of the last occasion she
had been here. But the memory did not show on her face,
which was as composed as though this meeting with him were
one of the routine ones she was now used to having with
factory management.
"I am." Her voice was cool. "I love the job."
Her head rose indignantly and her resolution to keep her control
began to slip. "Don't pretend you lost any sleep over firing me!"
His hands clenched on the desk. "Don't you think it's time to
forgive and forget?"
"That depends who's doing the forgetting and who's doing the
forgiving."
"Still the same trusting Jake," she replied and sat down, glad to
hide her trembling legs. "What comments do you want to make
on the report?"
"Why not? It's one more proof that you were right."
He came around the desk and stood in front of her. "Do you
really like your job, lass?"
The huskily spoken question, plus the "lass" at the end of it—so
tender and warm—was nearly her undoing, and it required all
her strength not to stand up and throw herself into his arms.
"I like my job very much. I can use my training and I'm
meeting interesting people."
"And you think my way of hurting you was to break into your
office and steal a secret document?" Bitterness was so strong
inside her that it left the taste of gall in her mouth. "I'm sorry,
Jake. However happy it would make you, I can't confess to
something I didn't do."
The warmth died out of his face. "Have it your own way then. If
false pride is keeping you silent, you're welcome to it. But you
'll not finding it keeping you warm at night."
"I hope you won't mind too much," he said, digging burned-out
tobacco fiercely from his pipe, the way he always did when he
was embarrassed.
Laura hugged him. "I'm delighted for you. Beth's the nicest
woman I know."
"I'm glad you've taken it this way. I was worried in case you
were… Well, you've been in charge of my home for so long, I
was afraid you wouldn't like another woman around."
"I can't marry him. I'd rather be single than make do with
second best."
"Still Jake?"
A ring at the door saved her from answering and she hurried to
open it. Beth stood on the step, her face so anxious that Laura
could not help giggling.
"I'm delighted. Tell me when you've set the date and I 'll leave
you to your wedded bliss."
"There's no need for you to move out just because I'm moving
in."
"Oh, yes there is." Together they entered the living room. "I'll
be glad of the chance of returning to Lon don."
"He'll have that when Elaine weds. And from what I can see of
it, that won't be far off."
Laura went rigid. "Is she… are she and Jake getting engaged?"
Poor Jake. The thought rushed into her mind and would not be
dismissed. Elaine would never make him happy. They were too
different in temperament and outlook. Jake needed a woman
with depth and spirit, not a spoiled child. Yet he would marry
her and eventually join his father-in-law's company. Without a
son to take over from him, Harold Simpson would not rest until
he had achieved this. And once it happened, Jake would be tied
to Elaine for as long as she wanted him.
Laura burst out laughing. "A committee lady at last. I'll buy you
a hat with a feather!"
Beth joined in the laughter and John Winters settled back in his
chair with a look of pleasure. The two women he now cared
about most were the best of friends. He sighed contentedly.
Things were going right again.
Laura did not have the same feeling of satisfaction. What should
have been a pleasurable decision—after all, returning to London
had been her secret goal from the moment she had left the
place—was turning out to be a very hollow victory. To be
honest, and with herself she was trying to be, she would
infinitely have preferred to stay where she was. The idea of
living in a big city where the streets were full of strangers,
where neighbors did not know you and no one cared whether
you lived or died, was a daunting prospect. Hard though it was
to admit, she had become used to this small town whose dour-
faced people were warmhearted and caring in a way that
Southerners were not. But not for the life of her would she
vocalize her sentiments. To London she had said she was going
and London she would depart.
Despite Beth's wish for a quiet wedding, there were at least fifty
people in the church on the day they married. But no crowd
could hide the sight of Elaine and Jake, and Laura wondered
how long it would be before they, too, were standing where her
father and Beth were standing now. The question was agony,
bringing with it a picture of life with Jake: his face at the
breakfast table, his head on the pillow beside her, his arms
close and warm…
After the ceremony it was difficult to avoid him, for Elaine made
a point of coming her way.
The green eyes were sharp with malice. "Jake told me about the
shaft you nearly feel into when you went potholing with him.
They've found a small lake there, you know, and I suggested
they call it Laura's Folly!"
"I vetoed the suggestion," Jake said crisply, his eyes fixed on
Laura. "As you were the one to find it, I think you should be the
one to name it."
But it was too late to retract now, and though Sunday morning
found her in a state of nerves, none of her torment was visible
as she went down the front path to greet Jake.
"Why not?"
"Probably," she lied, for she had not given it any thought.
"Of course not. I'm delighted for him. And for Beth, too."
Still very much the novice, Laura followed Jake into the gloom
of the underground world. She regretted she had not been
more consistent in following this unusual hobby. Not that there
would be any chance to do so once she was living in London.
"We're nearly there," Jake said behind her, and she rounded a
bend to see a narrow gallery running along the cave wall.
Immediately below lay a dark gleaming surface of water, black
as ebony, mysterious as a veiled woman.
"We'd best be turning back." Jake spoke at her ear. "We've been
going for nearly two hours."
She was sorry the moment she'd spoken, furious lest he think
she was playing for sympathy. But he made no comment and in
silence led the way back to the lakeside.
In their absence the water had risen and they edged their way
carefully along the gallery balancing only a few feet above the
dark glittering surface. Then came the steep climb to the top of
the first chimney where they met the rest of the party.
"Anybody find the source of the lake?" one of the men asked.
Jake craned his neck. "You may be right. We'll make for that
next week."
"Why not now?" the young man asked and looked around him.
"Are you all game?"
This time there was a chorus of assent, and with Jake leading
the way they climbed the rock face and eased their way through
the gap.
"We might as well see who's right," he said and, bending almost
double, set off down the tunnel of his choice, Laura following
close on his heels.
After a few yards they emerged into a small cavern. At one end
there was a sheer drop and they inched forward and peered
down to see an expanse of water.
"It will be considerably higher before long. Just wait till the
water stops rising. It probably comes up to where we're
standing now and then pours down to form the lake."
"It must be raining outside. That usually affects the level. Come
on, we don't want to be caught in a flood."
If the climb toward the source had been difficult, the return was
even worse, and her back ached as she kept it bent double and
inched her way through the tunnel.
"How much farther is it?" she gasped.
Tilting his head, he did so, and at the same time caught Laura
by the waist and pulled her back against the wall.
Simultaneously the roof above them seemed to stave in and a
shower of rocks richocheted about them, the noise
reverberating loudly in the enclosed space.
Gradually the rubble and dust settled and Jake turned and led
the way back. They stumbled along the passage, turned toward
the gap and stopped in horror. A massive boulder was blocking
their way.
"Are you all right in there? Can you hear us? Are you all right?"
"Be quick about it. You know why." Jake turned to Laura. "Let's
go back to the little cavern and wait. There's no point standing
here."
They stumbled back down the gully and reached the cavern.
Laura peered over the edge to look at the lake again. What had
once been a placid stretch of water was now a heaving pool
rising swiftly up the side of the rocky walls.
"I hope we're rescued soon." Her voice was thin with fear and
he caught her hand.
He held his lamp higher, its glow dispelling the gloom. "Let's sit
by the wall. We'll be more comfortable."
They sat on the floor and Jake turned the lamp off. "Ill put it on
again later," he said in the darkness. "I don't want to use up all
the fuel."
Jake pui his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
"We'll conserve more heat this way," he said.
She knew his reasoning was valid but wished it were not the
case. If only he was holding her close because he wanted to,
not because necessity demanded it.
She closed her eyes but opened them again immediately. Even
though it was dark and she could not see, the mere lowering of
her lids gave her a sensation of blindness, and she sat up in a
panic. Was it her imagination or was the sound of water louder?
"There's no need."
His tone was calm but she did not believe him, and before he
could stop her, she stretched out and peered over the edge into
the depths.
But there was no depth. Only a foot away the black water
swirled evilly, as though bubbling from a witches' cauldron.
Roughly he pulled her back. "What the hell did you have to look
for? "
"I wanted to know the truth. If that boulder isn't moved soon,
we'll drown!"
She yawned and put her hand to her head, noticing the strange
languor that was enveloping her. Fighting down her fear, she
thought carefully about the situation they were in. The boulder
blocking the entrance must also have sealed off the air and if
the rising water didn't drown them first, they would die of
suffocation.
Next to her Jake stirred. His breathing was shallow and she
knew he was trying to conserve the air. But it was hopeless to
do that. All it would save them would be a few moments of life.
But those few would be spent together…
"I knew you were too intelligent not to realize that," he said on
a sigh.
He did not answer but she felt his body tense and then slowly
relax as if he realized the futility of lying.
Shock held her in its grip. Then all fear and lassitude dissolved
as she absorbed what he had said.
"I'm glad, too," she replied. "It's silly to pretend any more. I
love you. I have for a long time."
"You're the only girl I've wanted to marry." He moved his hand
and found her face. "If we get out of here alive, will you marry
me?"
"You're… no thief." Languor slurred his words. "I don't care what
the… the night watchman said. You might have been the only
redheaded female at Grant- ley's, but it… couldn't have been
you in my office that night."
She had waited a long time to hear him say this but was too
numb to feel any sense of joy. No longer did her body belong to
her. All she possessed was a mind and even that seemed to be
floating free, hovering above her control. Tim… Elaine… Jake…
There was so much to say but the words would not come. She
drew a gasping breath. Her heart was pounding in her ears,
each beat an explosion, and the explosions grew louder and
louder, resounding through the cavern and shaking the ground.
The rest of his words faded and she slipped into oblivion.
A brilliant light, beating down into her eyes with the intensity of
a hundred suns, forced her to cry out, and the sound brought
the touch of cool hands to her face.
"Begorrah," a strong Irish voice said, "and it's nice to see you
with your eyes open. You've slept the clock around."
When she awoke again it was evening and her father and Beth
were sitting beside the bed.
"We came back when we heard the news on the radio," her
father replied.
"That wasn't necessary. I'm fine." Weak tears slid down her
cheeks." I've spoiled everything for you. I'm so sorry."
"I'll answer that when we're alone." Beth patted Laura's cheek.
"Don't look so miserable, love. You'll be fine in a couple of
days."
"We promise," Beth soothed. "Now close your eyes and rest."
"Only for a few minutes," Laura agreed and fell fast asleep
again.
Breakfast over, Laura combed her hair and put on lipstick. Her
face was pale and there were dark shadows under her eyes. But
the eyes themselves glowed with happiness.
At noon the glow was less pronounced. There had been no word
from Jake, and when lunchtime came she could only toy with
her food, pushing it from one side of her plate to the other.
Surely he could have left the office for an hour in order to see
her? In fact it was strange he had not come last night with her
father and Beth. Panic made her reach for the bell and she kept
her finger on it until a nurse hurried in.
"Were you telling me the truth about Mr. Andrews?" she asked.
"Is he alive or dead?"
"You haven't been allowed any visitors except your family until
today. I'm sure he'll be along this afternoon."
The relief that flooded Laura was almost like a pain and she lay
against the pillows. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I won't bother
you again."
The door opened and her joy seeped away like water into sand.
"Oh Laura, I'm sorry." He was beside the bed again, contrition
making him bend over her. "It's just that I hate seeing you
make a fool of yourself. I've known for weeks that it's Jake
Andrews you love, but I wouldn't admit it to myself. Then when
I came in here and you saw me and looked so miserable, I
knew you'd been expecting him!"
"I wasn't," she lied. "You don't know what you're saying. I
wasn't expecting him."
Only as the door closed behind him did Laura bury her face in
her hands. She hated Robert for telling her about Jake but knew
she should be grateful to him. At least he had ended her foolish
dreams.
Jake… Elaine… The two names hammered in her head with each
beat of her pulse. What a fool she had been to believe all he
had said to her when they had been trapped in the cavern.
Convinced they were going to die, Jake had only talked of love
and marriage in order to comfort her. The knowledge robbed
her of her last shred of pride, leaving her spirit raw.
Outside in the corridor there was the clatter of a trolley and her
door opened. Though her life was over, hospital routine must
continue.
Slowly she lifted her head and saw Jake. He looked at her in
silence, then dumped a bunch of flowers on the bed. They
slithered across the blanket and fell with a rustle to the floor.
"Who cares?"
Before she knew what was happening, he pulled her into his
arms, holding her so tightly that the buttons on his jacket dug
into her skin. He was large and warm and exuded the vitality
she always associated with him. But it was fatal to let herself be
aware of him, and she pushed him violently away.
"I see." His expression told her that he did. "And what would
you say if I told you I don't want Elaine?"
"I'd say you were a liar! You've just been with her. And don't
bother denying it because—"
"I've no intention of denying it. I had to see her. Until I'd done
so I didn't feel free to see you." His grip tightened on her again.
"Do you think I was joking when I said I loved you? How can
you be such a fool! I've always loved you, but I never realized
how much until I thought we were going to die. That's what I
had to tell Elaine."
"Off with the old before on with the new," she said bitterly.
"If you like to put it that way, you can," he said uncomfortably.
"Though I never asked her to marry me. I give you my word on
that. She amused me and flattered me but I never considered
marrying her. I don't expect you to understand why I started
taking her out, but it sort of began, and then it… it went on."
"I think I know why," she said, remembering all Beth had told
her of his background.
"Then if you do, surely you can see why I had to talk to her
before I could come here?" He sighed. "It was quite a scene, I
can tell you."
"She said you'd ruined her life and you were the only man she
ever loved?"
"So had I," he confessed and took a crumpled green card from
his pocket. "I intended to follow you. On Saturday, at the
wedding, I knew I couldn't let you go. I wanted to tell Elaine the
way I felt but I didn't get the chance. Straight after the
reception she went to Liverpool to see a girl friend who was
going off to Canada, and I realized I'd have to wait until she got
back."
"Yes."
"I didn't think that anymore. What I said in the cavern was
true. I knew you were innocent no matter what the night
watchman said."
Foolishly she started to cry. Not gentle tears but harsh sobs that
shook her body. Jake stroked her hair, kissing her burning
forehead and her damp curls.
"Don't cry," he pleaded. "I love you." He tried to tilt her chin but
she wouldn't let him, and she buried her face in his shoulder.
There was something in the way he said the last word that
made her look at him.
"Yes," he said slowly, "I know about Tim. Your father came to
see me before he and Beth left this morning."
"I can understand that. But I'm glad I do. I was a fool ever to
have doubted you. Can you forgive me?"
His tone was so pleading that she could not bear it. "Don't be
humble, Jake," she said shakily, "or you'll be a stranger to me.
I've only known you as rude, sarcastic or passionate!"
"That still won't stop you trying," he replied and gently touched
his lips to hers.
Her mouth moved beneath his and her response aroused a
greater response in him. His hands caressed her throat and
shoulders, touching the soft skin of her breasts. She shivered
with desire and pulled him closer, but he gave a sudden groan
and pushed her back upon the pillows.
"The minute you get out of here. I'll get a special license and—"
"Against you?"
He caught her hand and raised it to his lips. "How will you feel
about making Eddlestone your home? "
"Home is where you are.''
His laugh was buoyant and happier than anything she had yet
heard from him.
"When I'm boss of Grantley's, as I will be, one day, we can live
in London."