Next Door to Romance (9 page)

It was nearly seven o'clock when Mark reached the Manor. He had run Lisa back home, spent half an hour or so making the acquaintance of her parents and drinking some sherry which, he had to admit, was as good as any he'd ever tasted. Such extravagance rather surprised him in view of the shabby furnishings and decorations of Lisa's home.

'You must introduce me to your wine merchant,' he told Professor Bellairs. 'He evidently knows his job!'

Professor Bellairs' gentle face crinkled into a smile as he shook his head. 'I'm afraid I can't do that,' he explained. 'You see, it was a gift. I can't afford wine of this quality.'

It was said without a hint of self-pity or even regret, but Mark felt embarrassed. What on earth did one say in reply to a remark like that? And—with perhaps unreasonable irritation—why did Lisa's father have to be a poor man? It robbed her of the background she ought to have had.

He made his farewell shortly after and drove to the Manor in a thoughtful mood.

Once again, Evadne was waiting for him—and it was immediately evident that she was not in an amiable mood.

'You're late,' she greeted him accusingly before he had time to speak. 'Where have you been?'

Mark's eyes narrowed. In many ways he admired Evadne—her almost man-like grasp of detail, her ability to see several moves ahead in the financial game they all played. Yes, all those things and more. But when it came to personal relationships, there seemed to be a curious gap in her mental equipment. And just lately he had been increasingly aware of this. Now, he felt, she had over-reached herself. No man worth the name would let a woman get away with the sort of treatment she was doling out to him now, and the sooner she realized it the better for everybody concerned.

'About my own affairs,' he told her with a coolness that should have been a warning.

But either Evadne didn't appreciate it or refused to take any notice.

'You've been with that girl, haven't you?' she demanded furiously.

Mark made a genuine effort to keep his temper if only for the sake of expediency, and as a result he didn't answer her immediately. Evadne jumped to the wrong conclusion and her next remark completely shattered every last shred of his self-control.

'And don't trouble to deny it! Because, as it happens, I saw you together in your car!'

'Did you indeed!' Mark's voice was dangerously soft. 'So you've taken to spying on me, have you? Oh, don't deny it! I've suspected it before. Now you've given yourself away completely. So before we go any further, I'll be glad if you'll tell me why you think you've any right to question my actions! Well?'

Evadne stared at him, genuinely surprised. She hadn't yet decided whether or not she wanted to marry Mark, but she had been quite certain that he was at her beck and call. For the first time in her life, she felt unsure of herself.

'Good heavens, Mark, of course I'm concerned!' She contrived a significant little smile. 'After all, you and I—'

'Yes?' Mark asked with a note of challenge in his voice that drove her to belated caution. After all, he'd never suggested in so many words that they should get married, had never made love to her, unless you could call an occasional casual kiss lovemaking. Yes, perhaps she had been unwise, but she was too much her father's daughter to refuse a challenge.

'I was going to say that, after all, you and I have been good friends for so long that surely it's only natural for me to be concerned with your—well-being!' she told him with a gravity that brought a twitch of amusement to Mark's mouth.

'That's good of you, Evadne,' he replied with deceptive softness. 'But believe me, you've no cause for concern on my behalf. I really am old enough to make my own decisions and I've every intention of doing so. And that being the case—' his tone changed abruptly to one of blunt, even brutal frankness— 'I'll be glad if you'll stop behaving as if you're a Victorian school-marm, and I'm the naughty boy of your class. It's really too absurd and not very nattering to either of us!'

'I'm not trying to flatter you,' Evadne told him as bluntly. 'I'm trying to make you see sense because, adult though you are, you're being a fool if you think seriously about that girl—'

'That girl, as you very rudely call her, is an extremely sweet, lovable person who hasn't got a single unpleasant thought in her mind—'

'No? Oh, don't be absurd!' Evadne retorted scornfully. 'Why, she's made a dead set at you from the moment she first met you!'

'That's just where you're wrong,' Mark told her coolly. 'It's been the other way round. I've made a dead set at her! And I mean to go on doing just that!'

'But, Mark, that's crazy! Evadne's voice rose sharply. His admission was the last straw. She'd got to make him see that he simply couldn't afford— 'What good's a girl like that to you? For heaven's sake, be realistic! You've every intention of going up in the world—and you can do it. But you'll need a wife who can keep up with you and help you, not a—'

'Thank you, I'll choose the sort of wife I want,' Mark said uncompromisingly. 'And that's all there is to be said about it!'

'Oh no, it isn't,' Evadne contradicted significantly.

'You owe everything you've got to Father. What's he going to say if you wreck your whole life by marrying a little simpleton who would be no more good to you than my mother has been to him? Well, if you don't know, you'll soon find out, because I intend—'

'You intend to go to him and tell him that since you can't persuade me to change my mind, he's got to?' Mark suggested scornfully. 'Well, if you don't mind making an admission of that sort, I suppose it's your own business, but before you do, I'd like you to listen to me for a moment or two.'

'Well?' she said shortly.

'While I was in America, I had several flattering offers of first-class jobs with excellent prospects. Oh yes, I did!' seeing the disbelief in her eyes. 'However I turned them all down, partly because I don't want to live in America and partly for some other personal reasons. But mainly, believe it or not, out of loyalty to your father. I do know how much he's done for me, though I also know that his motives weren't exactly disinterested. He believed I'd got qualities that, developed by him, could be of great use to him—and to me! So get this clearly in your mind, Evadne. I admit that I'm in his debt, but there may come a time when he's in mine—and he knows it. He's getting on and the time will come when he wants to ease out of the strenuous life he's led so far. And if you don't believe that, ask yourself why he's bought the Manor! Isn't it obvious? He's looking ahead to when his business concerns don't take up so much of his time and he's preparing another interest for himself, wise man! So, before you go tittle-tattling to your father, just think over what I've said and I'm pretty sure you'll realize that I'm right—'

Evadne stared at him, white-faced. Never in all her life had anyone spoken to her like this or made her face up to disagreeable facts. And the most disagreeable of them all was one which both of them knew lay behind what Mark had actually put into words.

Each knew that the other had considered the possibility of them getting married. Now Mark was making it perfectly clear that he had entirely given up any such idea. Worse than that, he'd also told her that he knew that, on the contrary, she was perfectly willing—eager— to marry him. It was intolerable—it was humiliating.

'You'll be sorry for this!' she told him shrilly.

'I'm sorry already,' Mark said distastefully. 'It's never pleasant to see a woman make a fool of herself!'

Everyone in Mrs Thacker's Committee, and quite a lot of other people besides, woke on the morning of the Fete to draw a breath of intense relief. True, the weather forecast had been favourable, but then, all very scientific though it might be, you couldn't be really sure until the day actually happened, could you?

It was a very busy day for everyone even remotely concerned with running the affair for although everything possible had been done by the previous day, there were some things that had to be left until the last minute. Cakes had to be made both for the teas that would be served—a special feature of the Fete—and for sale on the food stall. All the stalls, and there were quite a few of them, had to be decorated and set out with various articles that were to be sold.

Lisa was over at the Manor by seven o'clock. Tom ran her over in his station wagon with the first load of white elephants which her mother had been collecting from all and sundry for weeks past. It was a motley assortment of articles ranging from those which were now considered out of date or which no longer fitted in with a particular colour scheme to battered articles which were next door to rubbish.

'You'll never sell all this junk,' Tom said disparagingly as he unloaded from the back of the car.

'Oh yes, we will,' Lisa said serenely. 'You'd be surprised. Last year I sold half a dozen broken gramophone records! It's true I only got sixpence for them, but it just shows that there's nothing so out of the way or battered that someone can't find a use for it!'

'What, even this?' Tom asked incredulously, holding up an ancient saucepan with a couple of holes in the bottom.

'Oh yes! You can get pot-menders—then it would be quite good enough to cook chickens' mash in,' she explained, deftly piling the collection on to the waiting stand.

'Well, they say the junk of today is the treasure of tomorrow,' Tom shrugged. 'And certainly I can remember my mother putting things in the dustbin that the antique dealers would be only too glad to get these days! Well, 'bye, Lisa. Sorry I can't stop to lend a hand, but duty calls!'

'That's all right, Tom,' Lisa said lightly without looking at him. 'You'll manage along some time, though, won't you?'

'Oh, sure,' he promised, and added casually: 'As a matter of fact, I've promised to collect Celia Palmer and bring her over. Apparently she's got a thing about roundabouts! But I'll see to it that she comes and buys something from this stall!'

'Thanks!' Lisa said coolly, but Tom's announcement had come as something of a shock. Never since she had known him had he taken out any girl except herself.

'But of course, there's no reason why he shouldn't,' she told herself stoutly. 'In fact, it's a very good thing he likes Celia enough to take her out. I wonder what she's like?'

'Hallo!' a familiar voice said behind her. 'You're on to the job bright and early!'

It was Mark, of course, and he was wearing the most informal clothes in which she had ever seen him—a brightly coloured shirt, open at the neck, a pair of not very smart grey flannels—for some reason, his appearance put Lisa at her ease—almost.

'Hallo!' she said shyly. 'Well, so are you, if it comes to that!'

Mark laughed and swung the hammer he was holding.

'I've been making myself useful wherever needed,' he told her. 'Anything I can do for you?'

'If you would help me hoick some of those heavier things up on to the stand. At the back, I think, so that the smaller pieces can go in front.'

'Right-ho,' Mark agreed, and began to get on with the job with a will. But he looked puzzled. 'I'm only too pleased to help you, but how does it happen that a really hefty job like this is left to one girl to do?'