by Janet Tanner
‘I’m engaged to him, aren’t I?’
He continued to drive, not removing his eyes from the road for a single second.
‘I’m aware of that but it does not answer my question.’
‘Eric is a good man!’ she said sharply. ‘Of course I love him. How dare you suggest I don’t?’
‘Oh I agree he’s a good man,’ he said evenly. ‘I have never for one moment doubted it. Very likely it is his sheer goodness that persuaded him to allow you to travel alone with me to Bristol – he simply cannot conceive that either of us would do anything to betray his trust.’
Quite suddenly she found that her hands were trembling.
‘I don’t know what you are talking about!’
He glanced at her and even in the fading light the challenge in his eyes was unmistakeable. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Most certainly I do not! Just because Alicia flaunts herself and throws herself at you does not mean that I would do the same. Why – I don’t even like you!’
‘Ouch!’ he said, but there was still a good measure of amusement in his tone and it infuriated her almost to fever pitch.
‘If you must know, Mr Bailey, I find you quite insufferable!’ she snapped.
‘Oh dear,’ he said ruefully. ‘What have I done to warrant this?’
The fact that she could not think of one single concrete thing did nothing to improve her temper.
‘It’s your attitude!’ she snapped. ‘You always seem to be laughing at me!’
‘Perhaps that is because you take yourself so seriously,’ he said lightly. ‘And you must admit there is something slightly comic in what you do.’
‘There you go, you see – laughing at me again! I don’t find ballooning in the least comic’
‘And there you go – taking yourself so seriously! You have plenty of spunk, I admit, Sarah – a cool nerve and a hot temper. I admire you …’
‘Well, I don’t admire you!’ she returned. ‘If you must know I find you arrogant and rather rude!’
‘I am sorry to hear that. But I am afraid you will have to put up with me for a little longer. Until we get back to London at any rate.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I could always ask you to stop the motor now and let me out.’
‘But you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t want to be stranded in the middle of nowhere.’
‘Even that might be preferable to the next hour spent bickering with you.’
‘All right.’ He slammed on the brakes and the car ground abruptly to a halt. ‘If that’s the way you want it, you may get out of my motor, Miss Thomas. Arrogant I might be, rude I might be – a jailer I am not. Please feel free to avail yourself of the opportunity to take a nice long walk on a warm summer’s night.’
A bolt of horror shot through Sarah. This was ridiculous! It was all over nothing – a storm in a teacup because she had allowed him to rile her. She certainly had not expected him to take her at her word. But here he was looking at her with that infuriating challenge in his eyes, daring her to do as she had threatened. And now she had put herself in the impossible position of either admitting ignominiously that she had not the slightest inclination to get out of the car and walk alone into the fast-falling night or sticking to her guns and doing just that!
Well, she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing the very idea terrified her. Her fierce pride simply would not allow it. With a toss of her head she got up and climbed down out of the car. He wouldn’t leave her. He couldn’t! When he saw she was actually prepared to do as she had said he would insist she got back into the car … wouldn’t he?
But the moment her feet touched the ground he opened the throttle and the motor began to move away. Panic constricted her throat and she almost screamed at him to wait, but again pride prevented her and moments later she was standing on the grass verge watching the motor disappear into the fading light.
For a moment she stood quite still, almost paralysed by horror. ‘Beast!’ she whispered, and then louder: ‘Beast – beast!’ The sound of her voice disturbed a bird in the hedgerow; it rustled urgently, startling her, and her quick intake of breath became a sob: ‘Oh, how could you? How could you just leave me here?’
The quiet of the night gave no reply. In the few moments she had stood there it seemed the darkness had become more complete, the hedges taking on dark and threatening shapes, the sky closing in to obscure even the ribbon of road. Well, there was nothing for it – she would simply have-to set out in search of a cottage or farm, knock on the door and ask for refuge. But it was so humiliating – and all so stupid!
Somewhere across the dark fields an owl hooted and Sarah felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle. She was a country girl, used to the sounds of nature, but never before had she felt so totally alone. Then suddenly, close by, on the other side of the hedge a cow lowed, an unearthly sound in the silence of the night. Her carefully controlled panic erupted and Sarah began to run.
She did not notice the bank at the edge of the road until she ran into it. One fleeing foot followed the other, her ankle twisted and she staggered and fell headlong. She heard her skirt rip, her hands skagged on brambles and as she tried to rise she lost her balance again and rolled helplessly into the drainage ditch at the bottom of the bank. There had been no rain for some days but the ground was low lying and the ditch was clogged with last year’s dead leaves and muddy with water that had seeped down from the higher level of the field.
‘Oh!’ she sobbed.
And at that very moment saw the lights of a motor coming towards her down the road.
Her first thought was overwhelming relief. She scrambled out of the ditch and into the road, waving her arms wildly at the approaching motor. Then as it slowed to a stop beside her relief turned to outrage, humiliation and anger.
‘What on earth have you been up to?’ the driver enquired mildly. It was Adam.
She drew herself up, not the easiest thing when she was scratched, bedraggled and trembling all over.
‘I thought you had gone without me!’ she said accusingly.
‘Did you really? And how do you suppose I would have faced Eric and told him I’d left you God-knows-where? Come on, you little idiot, get in!’
She glowered at him.
‘Are you going to get in – or shall I leave you here again?’ he asked.
She knew she was beaten. She had no doubt now but that if she refused he would simply drive away again. She took a step, her ankle almost gave way beneath her and pain shot through it, white hot. He heard her gasp, and realising she was hurt, was down in a flash lifting her as effortlessly as if she weighed no more than a child and setting her up on the seat. She wanted to protest but no words would come. It was a supreme effort to hold back the tears.
‘Oh Sarah!’ he said, looking at her. ‘What a state you are in! And I only left you for five minutes. You didn’t really think I’d go back to London without you, did you? What do you take me for? No – don’t answer that. An arrogant swine. That’s what you said, wasn’t it?’
‘And so you are,’ she said through gritted teeth.
‘I couldn’t agree more. I shouldn’t have done it.’ There was no mockery in his tone now, only real regret. He fished in his pocket for a handkerchief and handed it to her. ‘Here – clean yourself up with this.’
She took the handkerchief and suddenly the tears she had been struggling to hold back were coursing down her cheeks.
‘It was horrible!’ she wept.
‘Oh come now, not so bad for a girl who jumps out of balloons, surely?’ But it was not said unkindly and the gentle teasing was somehow quite different.
‘Look at me! Look at the mess I’m in!’
‘Sarah,’ he said, ‘you still look beautiful.’
‘Will you stop making fun of me!’ she cried.
‘I am not making fun of you. I am simply telling you the truth.’ His voice was low and vibrant; the sound of
it sent a sudden tingle up her spine.
She looked at him sharply. The moon had risen, a pale bright orb, and in its light and the smattering of reflected light from the headlamps of the motor his face was deeply shadowed, his eyes mysterious pools of darkness. Yet somehow they beamed her a message, a message so powerful that she received it with every pore of her body and every nerve ending rose in tingling response. She was aching now not from the effects of her fall but from longing – a longing she could not comprehend and did not attempt to – and the trembling in her limbs ceased momentarily as if frozen by some powerful emotion. She looked at him, breath catching in her throat, and felt the whole of her being drawn up into that one point of contact.
‘Sarah,’ he said softly.
His hand was in her hair, combing the tangled curls away from her temple, then it slid down to her chin, cupping it firmly and lifting. His face was close, inches from hers, and a tremor ran through her. She knew now what that ache of longing meant. He was going to kiss her – and she wanted him to. She closed her eyes, giving herself up to the longing, then suddenly just as his lips brushed hers sanity came rushing in on a wave of panic. What was she doing? She was engaged to be married to Eric – she had no business being here in the arms of another man.
Abruptly she pulled away. ‘No!’
For a moment longer he held her and she wondered in panic if he might be going to force himself on her as Hugh had done. Then he released her and she shrank back against the leather seat.
‘Well, Sarah …’ That familiar infuriating amusement was back in his voice.
‘Please take me home,’ she said, pressing his handkerchief to her trembling lips. The unfamiliar smell of it evoked more small shocks and yearnings in her inflamed senses and she sat rigid, resisting them.
Without another word Adam depressed the accelerator and the motor shot forward in the darkness. And the tears which were still so close and threatening squeezed out from Sarah’s eyes and began to roll silently down her cheeks.
Chapter Twenty
In the small attic room at his lodgings which he had converted into a drawing office Adam Bailey laid down his pencil for at least the tenth time that evening, took a long pull from the mug of half cold coffee which stood at his elbow and ran his hands through his thick fair hair, staring into space.
Damn it, he simply could not concentrate on water-cooled engines and crankshafts this evening – had not been able to for the past two evenings either in point of fact. His mind kept wandering however hard he tried to channel it and each time he looked at the careful calculations on the sheet of paper in front of him he seemed to see nothing but a mop of rich brown hair and a pair of sparkling blue eyes. Sarah Thomas had got under his skin, not a doubt of it, but wonder about it as he might Adam could not say why.
She was a very pretty girl, of course, but she was far from being the first to have crossed his path and in all honesty he could not say she was the prettiest – at twenty-four, handsome and eligible, Adam had known his share of beauties. She had courage. It would have been obvious in the tilt of her chin and the set of her small well-shaped mouth even if he had not known of her ballooning exploits, the very thought of which would have been enough to make most girls swoon. And she had dignity, determination and a kind of crystal clear honesty which shone out of those lovely blue eyes. But he could not see that any of those things, attractive though they were, were enough to distract him from the obsession that had been his life now for almost as long as he could remember.
Adam sighed, lit a cigarette and crossed the attic to set the kettle on the small phuttering gas ring. He could not afford to waste precious time in this way – especially now when they were so close to perfecting the design for their very own aeroplane. Yet here he was unable to do a stroke of work for thinking about a girl who had given not the slightest indication of even returning his interest.
In all likelihood it was that which made her so attractive, Adam thought wryly. In his experience young ladies from barmaids to the flighty well-heeled daughter of his employer had fallen over themselves in an effort to make him notice them and favours had been offered to him with an eagerness he had begun to take for granted. But although he enjoyed their company not one of them had touched his heart, let alone moved him sufficiently to interfere with the project that was the great and flaming passion in his life.
Forget her! Adam told himself crossly. She is engaged to someone else and clearly has not the slightest interest in you.
But he could not forget her. Since meeting her there had not been a single waking moment when she had not been there, coming between him and any coherent thought, and even when he slept it seemed she invaded his dreams.
The sound of footsteps on the bare wooden stairs brought Adam out of his reverie; he turned from the kettle which was already beginning to sing merrily to see the door open and Maximillian Hurst came bursting in.
‘Great news, Adam! Not working? By God, you will be, and harder than ever before when you hear what I have to tell you!’
‘Max!’ In spite of his own strange mood Adam found himself smiling at his friend’s obvious high spirits. ‘You look as if you’ve lost a farthing and found a shilling!’
‘Better than that.’ Max came into the room with a bouncy stride, a short thick-set young man with a face that was far from handsome yet agreeably pleasant, mobile and expressive with a large humorous mouth.
Though they were as different as chalk and cheese, he and Adam had been firm friends from the moment they had met, both raw young apprentices in the drawing office at the firm of motor engineers. Talking one day they had discovered their mutual fascination with the pioneering of powered flight and from there it had been a short step to deciding to work together on their very own design. When Adam had discovered Max was thoroughly wretched in the lodgings he rented from a shrewish old woman he had persuaded his own kindly and easy going landlady to let a room to Max and the proximity had done nothing to sour their friendship. If anything it had deepened it for now they were able to talk into the small hours over the dying embers of the fire, discussing and dreaming with only one flight of stairs to climb before they could fall exhausted into bed.
As their ideas took shape Mrs Hicks, the landlady, had been persuaded to allow them the use of the attic as a drawing office though Adam suspected, quite correctly, that she believed the work they did there was no more serious than a child’s game. Even when they acquired a small workshop under the railway arches to begin the construction of their brainchild she continued to treat them with good-humoured indulgence and a smile that said that sooner or later when they realised the true seriousness of life they would grow out of their far fetched notions and behave like normal adult men.
‘One of these days we will build a plane that will fly,’ Adam had told her. ‘And when we do you shall be our first passenger.’
But Mrs Hicks had only thrown up her hands in horror.
‘Get on with your nonsense! My feet are staying right here on terra firma – and I’ve no doubt yours will be too, Mr Adam!’
Her scepticism did not upset them and they sometimes chuckled over how surprised Mrs Hicks would be to find herself one day dragged unwillingly into the twentieth century with all the fruits of progress waiting for her.
‘Well, what is all the excitement about?’ Adam asked now as Max entered the attic and shut the door behind him.
‘Is the kettle on the boil?’ Now he had whetted Adam’s appetite Max was determined to savour his moment of triumph. ‘Make me a cup of tea, my friend, and when I’ve got my breath back I’ll tell you all about it.’
‘Make yourself one, you lazy good-for-nothing,’ Adam retorted. ‘I’ve been working while you have been out gallivanting.’
‘That is not quite how I would put it,’ Max returned, his monkey-face mock serious. ‘What I’ve been doing is securing our future. Now, do I get that tea or don’t you – want to hear my news?’ He crossed to the chintz-covered rockin
g chair, lowering himself into it and grinning at Adam encouragingly.
‘All right, I’ll make your blasted tea,’ Adam agreed. He emptied cold dregs from the pot, spooned in three good measures and added the now boiling water. When the tea was ready he carried it across to Max and settled himself back into his upright chair, turning it to face his friend. ‘Come on then, tell me your news. I’m all agog.’
Max took a sip of scalding tea and wiped his mouth on a large scarlet spotted handkerchief. ‘What would you say if I told you our troubles are over? That we can give notice to the company and go down to Bristol to work full time on our project?’
‘I’d say you’d finally taken leave of your senses.’
‘And you’d be wrong,’ Max said. ‘Do you know where I have been this evening, Adam?’
‘No. You were very secretive about it.’
‘Because I didn’t want to raise your hopes in case things failed to work out as I hoped. But since that is not the case I can now tell you I have been to see my Great Uncle Winston. Do you remember you came with me once when I went to visit him?’
‘I certainly do,’ Adam said recalling a shrewd old man clad in a velvet smoking jacket, his knees covered by a tartan rug as he held court in his cluttered parlour surrounded by innumerable cats. ‘What of it?’
‘I asked him for a loan,’ Max said simply. ‘I told him of our plans and our problems in getting the project off the ground. And the old boy turned up trumps. It seems he intended to leave me £1000 in his will but when he heard how desperate we are he agreed that I should have it now – provided of course I don’t expect any more later. He is going to see his solicitor tomorrow and have the thousand transferred to my bank account. So you see that should buy all the equipment and bits and pieces we need and pay us both modest salaries for long enough to get our flying machine into the air. Do you wonder that I am feeling pleased with myself?’
‘Good Lord!’ Adam sat in silence for a moment pondering the full implications of what Max had said. A thousand pounds – enough to cater for all their needs and to spare! ‘And you are proposing we should both give notice and work full time on the aeroplane, are you?’ he asked after a moment.
