Storm Damage

by Lorna McKenzie

  “I’ve just boiled the kettle. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “That’d be very nice—Poppy, isn’t it? Very nice, indeed.”

  Instant was quickest, and she was back in no time offering it to him and suggesting he sit down.

  “I won’t be a moment—I’ll just get the sweaters.”

  She opened the door to the stairs.

  “I’ll come and help you down with them,” he said cheerfully, putting his cup down and starting after her.

  “You’ll do no such thing!” came the icy tones of Guy Devereau. “Miss Winters is quite capable of carrying a few sweaters.”

  “Who the heck are you?” asked Dave Hadden with a scowl. “You don’t look old enough to be her father.”

  Poppy cast Guy a beseeching glance.

  “A friend and neighbour,” he replied coolly.

  “I get the picture.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Poppy could still hear them snarling at each other as she bundled up the sweaters and carted them down the stairs.

  “Here you are, then.”

  “Very nice. How many are there?”

  He counted them carefully, then peeled some notes off a fat roll.

  “You have to be joking! They’re worth four times that much. That’s daylight robbery!” Guy shouted angrily.

  “Look, what’s it to you, mister? The lady and I made a deal. She’s ’appy, I’m ’appy. You ’er partner or somethin’?”

  “No, but I don’t like to see a friend cheated.”

  “I can’t charge the earth on a market stall.”

  “Where did you sell the last lot?”

  “’Ere and there—Bridport, Salisbury. Mainly Salisbury—that’s where the money is.”

  “You’d better not be cheating this girl—or you’ll have me to contend with. Understand?”

  “Sure thing. I’d better be on my way.”

  “I’ll see you out,” said Poppy.

  “I was going to ask you out for a drink,” he said in an undertone, halfway along the path. “I don’t suppose his nibs would like that, eh?”

  “I don’t drink,” she replied primly.

  “Ah well, you can’t win ’em all. I’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter Seven

  “You’re out of your mind to work for so little!” Guy exploded as she re-entered her kitchen.

  “I don’t see what it’s got to do with you.”

  “You’re going to need every penny you can get from now on. What is this Hadden to you, anyway?” he demanded, as if she had not spoken.

  “What do you mean? What is he? What do you think? You surely don’t think he and I…you seem to imagine I’m having an affair with every man I speak to.”

  “I don’t know what to think any more. I came to ask you a favour, actually.”

  “What kind of favour?”

  “I wondered if you’d look after Sheba for a few days—I have to go away.”

  With Nerissa? she wanted to ask, but of course, it was no concern of hers, even if it was. The woman had a perfect right to spend time with her fiancé.

  “I’d love to,” she replied.

  “We’re flying to Paris on Thursday, and should be home on Monday.”

  “Great,” she replied dully, in no doubt as to the “we”.

  “Thanks, Poppy. Can I bring her down on Wednesday afternoon?”

  “That’s fine by me. What do I feed her on?”

  “She’ll come complete with bed, food and instructions,” he told her. “I’ll see you then.”

  There was nothing for it but to work. Work, work, work. As soon as the place was tidied up, Poppy’s day began. She might not be getting much for her work, but there was no limit to the number of sweaters Dave Hadden would buy.

  Guy appeared as promised on Wednesday afternoon.

  “You’re not to spoil her,” he instructed. “Her diet’s written out, and she’s not allowed on beds or furniture.”

  “We can go for walks, presumably.”

  “Of course—she’s had her jabs. Not long walks, though—just a couple of miles while she’s so young.”

  Poppy knelt to run her hands through the puppy’s silky coat.

  “You and I are going to have a lovely time, aren’t we?” she said, fondling her, and receiving little whimpers of pleasure in return.

  “Lucky Sheba! If I lay down like that, would I get the same treatment?”

  “I’d be more likely to put the boot in!” she replied shortly, knowing it was not true.

  She must be the world’s biggest mug, looking after his dog while the man she loved went off for a romantic weekend with another woman, albeit his fiancée. He had gone quiet, and she glanced up to find him regarding her rather oddly. He leaned over and pulled her to her feet.

  “Look after her, and take care of yourself,” he said gruffly, his hands about her shoulders. “And think about what I said about getting married. The father has a right to know you’re expecting his child, you know, and a duty to support it—and you.”

  “Thanks for your concern,” she replied, as lightly as she was able. “And don’t worry about Sheba—she and I will get along fine.”

  “I am grateful to you, Poppy. She’s rather young to go into kennels, and, as you know, I don’t as yet have any staff.”

  “For which you need the cottage! You don’t have to keep reminding me. In fact, I rather fancy moving to one of those other cottages. You’ve had a good job done on them. The one with the extension would suit me very well.”

  “You do surprise me! I thought you were quite adamant about staying here, where you grew up.”

  “Well, I’ve changed my mind!” she snapped.

  She couldn’t bear to live so close to the Hall once he and Nerissa were married, and likely to pass her cottage several times a day. No, she would prefer to be tucked away over the hill, with a different route to the village.

  “Thanks again,” he said.

  Before she could guess his intention, his lips had found hers. A shock of desire skittered through her system, drowning out rational thought, and she clung to him, kissing him back. When he drew away he looked as dazed as she felt.

  “I’m sure pregnant ladies aren’t supposed to get so excited,” he murmured with a shaky smile. “I’d better try and remember where my obligations lie.”

  After he had gone, she wondered whether he meant in general, or if he was referring to his amnesia.

  Sheba certainly took her mind off thoughts of Guy and Nerissa living it up in Paris. Her days revolved around feeding, grooming, walking and playing with the puppy. When she settled down to work, having exhausted Sheba for a while, the dog would rest her head on Poppy’s feet, as if making sure she didn’t escape while she slept. When it was time for bed, she would whimper pleadingly, glancing at the door to the stairs where Poppy was about to disappear, but Poppy did not give in. She had promised not to spoil the creature, and, tempting as it was, she kept her promise.

  The nights were difficult, however. Poppy often went down in the early hours to make a cup of tea and then she would stroke the sleepy puppy and speak soothingly to her. Upstairs she would lie in bed, trying to blot out pictures of Guy’s tanned body entwined with Nerissa’s slender form. Nerissa would be used to the sophisticated venues to which Guy would take her; she would know how to please a man, too. When they returned, Poppy had no doubt they would have set a date for their wedding.

  Were it not for loving Guy, those would have been delightful days. Perhaps she would get a puppy for her baby, but not right away. Let him get through his first year. Let him learn to walk first.

  Him. She was quite certain it would be a him. Why, she didn’t know. She just imagined he would be a small replica of his father. Handsome, demanding, and, later on, funny and adorable, an
d a male chauvinist, to boot.

  “Oh baby, I love you,” she murmured, pausing in her work to clutch her stomach and rock gently back and forth in her chair.

  Monday came and went. Halfway through Tuesday morning, she heard a sharp rap on the back door. Sheba sat up and made a great effort to growl.

  “That’s no way to greet your owner,” she laughed, still smiling as she opened the door.

  Her smile died. On her doorstep stood Nerissa, and by her side a middle-aged couple, the man of decidedly rough appearance, the woman of waxen complexion and with a wracking cough.

  “I’ve brought the Lomaxes to look at the cottage,” Nerissa informed her. “For goodness sake, don’t let that dog jump up at me.”

  Nerissa was wearing an immaculate suede suit with a silky blouse and knee-high polished boots.

  “I wasn’t expecting anyone. Guy didn’t say…”

  “Guy doesn’t have to!” snapped Nerissa.

  “He does, actually. Anyway, I haven’t quite made up my mind.” How dare he! She had only a few days ago mentioned that she was considering moving, and he sent his ghastly fiancée along with a most unlikely looking couple. “Still, I suppose as you’re here,” she told the couple as politely as she could manage—after all, it wasn’t their fault they were caught up in her domestic arrangements—“you’re welcome to look round.”

  The woman’s eyes lit up when she saw the cosy sitting room with its inglenook fireplace, comfortable three-piece suite and polished tables. She stretched her hands to the flames, sniffing loudly, and then giving an enormous sneeze. Poppy handed her a tissue.

  “Furnished, is it?”

  “No, actually, it’s not.” Poppy frowned. “Didn’t Mr. Devereau tell you? I mean, surely the advert…”

  “’Twas us that advertised,” the man informed her. He looked incapable of smiling, and was not the cleanest person she had ever met.

  “For what, exactly?” she felt bound to ask.

  “Really, I don’t think that’s any of your concern,” Nerissa broke in.

  The Lomax woman, however, sensing the animosity between the two of them, and perhaps feeling a little guilty about turning up on Poppy’s doorstep without any advance warning, had other ideas.

  “We had problems paying the mortgage,” she informed Poppy, gaining a furious scowl from her husband. “We needed somewhere quick, so we advertised for a job with accommodation. Reg does a bit of gardening, like, and with three teenage boys, I’m not a bad cook.”

  Oh God, it was worse than she thought. When she remembered the sheer professionalism her father had brought to his work, the superb dishes her mother used to cook…

  “It’s quite small,” she said gently. “You say you have three teenage boys. Do come and look.”

  She led them up the stairs to show them the two bedrooms. The woman’s face fell.

  “You’re right, dear. It is rather small,” she agreed. “Still, we’ll manage.”

  “Course we shall,” her husband, Reg, added sharply. “And I noticed an extension off the kitchen—that could always make an extra bedroom.”

  “There you are, then,” said Nerissa triumphantly from the stairs. “I’ll talk to Mr. Devereau when he gets back.”

  “You mean Guy didn’t send you?” Poppy enquired, smelling a rat.

  “He had things to do in London. He thinks I’ve gone home, but I thought I’d surprise him. He’ll be so pleased to have the domestic problem sorted out.”

  He would, if it was sorted out, but instinct told Poppy the Lomaxes weren’t at all right for the post. For one thing, with three sons, Mrs. Lomax would hardly be able to cook an evening meal and clear away afterwards. She’d have far too much to do at home.

  “I wouldn’t get too excited,” she felt obliged to tell the couple. “I expect Mr. Devereau will have other people to interview.”

  Which earned her a look of disappointment from Mrs. Lomax and one of fury from Nerissa.

  “There’s a lot of work to do in the grounds,” she told Reg Lomax. “I expect there’ll be other staff, but as head gardener, you’d have to supervise them.”

  “I dare say,” he replied tersely.

  “I’m sure Mr. Lomax will soon get the place up to scratch,” Nerissa said patronizingly. “We’ll have that rather bleak drive lined with shrubs.”

  “That’s right!” agreed Mr. Lomax defensively. “A nice edging of rhododendrons all the way from the gate—all colours.”

  “Any maybe a bed of azaleas in front of the house?” Poppy enquired in astonishment.

  “Why not?” he growled.

  Mainly because this was chalk land—rhododendrons and azaleas positively hated it!

  She did not even bother to reply, changing the subject quickly, relieved when they finally went back outside. Sheba trailed after her along the path, staying close.

  “Got a few weeds here,” remarked Reg Lomax, eyeing her prize herb patch with distaste. “They’ll have to go. I’ll probably grass the lot over, or maybe keep a few chickens on it.”

  Horror compounding horror. Just go, the lot of you, she prayed.

  “I’ll be in touch, then,” Nerissa told them as they reached the gate, turning back herself.

  “Oh, I expect you want to take Sheba with you,” said Poppy, surprised by how dismayed she felt at the prospect of losing her companion.

  “I most certainly don’t! I’m going to cook a nice little dîner à deux for when Guy gets home this evening. I don’t want that wretched dog around.” She smiled, like a cat. “We’ll be able to carry on from where we left off in Paris.”

  “Did you have a good time?” Poppy felt obliged to ask, though she did not want to know.

  “Fabulous!” Nerissa assured her. “A five-star hotel, dinner at the Ritz,”—Poppy herself would have preferred a dimly lit bistro—“dancing to the early hours in a boîte de nuit… And, of course, we had to pay a visit to Cartier…”

  Lifting her elegant left hand, she gazed triumphantly down at the enormous solitaire sitting on her third finger. Poppy felt sick. She would kill the woman if she didn’t go soon.

  “I’ve never cared for diamonds myself,” she found herself saying. “I find them rather cold.”

  “But you know what they say—about them being a girl’s best friend!”

  “Oh, you mean when the magic fades,” she retorted with surprising venom.

  There were more lines than she had at first noticed around Nerissa’s cool blue eyes. She was probably in her midthirties, far too old for Guy!

  “That will hardly happen to us, if Paris was anything to go by,” Nerissa told her smugly.

  “I don’t think you should be telling me this,” Poppy said.

  She certainly didn’t want to hear it.

  “You’re right. I just want you to get it straight—the sooner you move away from here, the better for all of us. Guy won’t want you hanging around after we’re married.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “The first week in January,” came the confident reply.

  “I see. Oh goodness, it’s time to feed Sheba. Guy is most meticulous about punctual feeding times, as you’ll no doubt find out.”

  “I shall certainly not be the one to feed it,” Nerissa replied, and, turning on her heel, she left.

  “Oh, Sheba, I hope you didn’t understand that,” she told the puppy when they were back inside.

  She knelt and fondled her and, in return, Sheba put her head on Poppy’s raised knee and looked soulfully up at her.

  “I don’t think you’re going to like Nerissa any more than I do,” she said.

  Guy turned up at ten o’clock the following morning, looking terrible.

  “Heavy night?” Poppy offered in mock sympathy.

  “Bloody awful,” he snapped. “Why didn’t you let Nerissa
bring Sheba back while she was here?”

  “Mainly because she refused to take her! And don’t come in here shouting at me. Why aren’t you over the moon? Nerissa obviously is! A weekend in Paris, a ring from Cartier, last night’s romantic dîner à deux. I suppose she’s still in bed this morning.”

  “You know, Poppy, you’re beginning to sound like a jealous woman. Paris was Nerissa’s idea, and I believe it’s normal to buy a ring for one’s fiancée. I arrived too late and too tired for dinner last night.” He frowned. “How did you know about all that?”

  “I got it from the horse’s mouth, chapter and verse,” she informed him tersely.

  “Is that a fact?” She could have sworn his mouth quirked in amusement—could it possibly be for her likening Nerissa to a horse? “Anyway, Nerissa’s not best pleased with me at the moment. She’s taken off—not that it’s any of your business! And she tells me you did your darnedest to put off some couple who wanted to work for me!”

  “They weren’t suitable!”

  “Who the hell are you to say who’s suitable, and who’s not?”

  “I know the Hall, and its grounds, Guy,” she said quietly. “I felt rather sorry for the woman, but with three teenage sons this place would be too small anyway, and she wouldn’t have had the time to act as housekeeper…”

  “Nerissa said nothing about three sons. I thought it was just the two of them.”

  “And he didn’t know the first thing about gardening. He planned to plant rhododendrons all the way up the drive, and a bed of azaleas near the house.”

  Suddenly Guy’s shoulders began to shake and he laughed aloud.

  “Now I wonder how you found that out?” he murmured.

  Poppy gave him a wary look, and then she, too, started to laugh.

  “I was pretty furious with Nerissa for turning up without a word of warning, actually,” she confessed.

  “Did she?” he murmured absently. “And how has Sheba been?”

  He went down on his haunches beside the dog basket, rubbing the puppy’s ears. She squirmed contentedly and went back to sleep.

  “I’ve really enjoyed having her, Guy.”

  “She looks reluctant to move.”