Cuckoo in the Night

by Pamela Kent

  “What are you two doing here?” he demanded.

  Tim, who could sometimes smile very inanely, managed just such a smile for this occasion.

  “Boot’s on the other foot, my dear fellow,” he replied, on a curious note of languor. “Jan and I are wondering what are you doing here?”

  Stephen stood clutching at the back of his sisterin-law’s chair, and his eyebrows were so badly contorted they appeared to be tied up in knots.

  “That’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” he returned. “I’m lunching here.”

  “With a client?” Tim asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  Stephen’s hard grey eyes ignored him. He addressed himself to Janine.

  “With Mrs. Hay, yes. She is—or rather, she was—a client. We met by accident.”

  “Happy accident,” Tim murmured into his Napoleon brandy.

  Stephen frankly scowled at him.

  “I know I’m supposed to be in London,” he said, “but I hoped to give Chris a surprise. I caught the early train this morning. Mrs. Hay was on the same train.”

  He walked back to his table, and Mrs. Hay glanced casually over her shoulder and smiled in an equally casual way at Janine. At the same time she nodded her fair head in acknowledgement of Tim.

  The latter stood up and bowed slightly, and then resumed his seat.

  “And what happens now?” he asked, as he looked across the table at the girl he had invited to lunch with him. “Since you’re both—presumably—returning to Sandals, do you wait for Stephen, or does Stephen wade through that expensive lunch of his and keep you hanging about until he’s ready? In either case, it’s not really up to him. You’re free to go back without him, and it might be as well if you do so because then you can prepare Chris for a delightful surprise.” But his tone and his look were surprisingly grim. “If you’ll take my advice, since we’ve reached the conclusion of our meal, you’ll decline to be kept waiting until all that champagne is consumed.”

  Janine nodded.

  “I think you’re right,” she said quietly. “In any case, I’d rather go home alone.”

  “And Stephen has probably got a lot to say to Mrs. Hay. Not strictly business, perhaps, but I’m sure he’s interested in what has happened to her since he freed her from the clutches of the law.”

  Janine stooped and gathered up some of her parcels that she had deposited on the floor beside her chair.

  “I’m sure you’re right,” she said again, a trifle incoherently. Then she stood up and smiled at Tim. “Thank you so much for giving me lunch,” she said.

  He smiled at her with extraordinary sweetness.

  “A pleasure,” he assured her.

  “I’ve thoroughly enjoyed it. I—” she paused—“I’m afraid I wasn’t very nice to you this morning.”

  “Think nothing of it,” he advised. “There is no law that insists you have to be nice to me.”

  “All the same, I—I was a bit rude!”

  “It can’t have affected me very much, because I was most insistent that we should have lunch together. Remember I said I’d hang about here all day?”

  She smiled rather wanly. She was very much preoccupied with Chris, and the possible shock in store for her.

  “Yes, you did, didn’t you? But it wasn’t necessary.” She watched him settle the bill, and then he accompanied her towards the door.

  “I’ll see you to the car-park,” he said, “and make certain no one’s stolen your car.”

  On their way across the big and now rather empty room they paused within a foot or so of Stephen and Mrs. Hay’s table. Janine, without any expression at all on her face, enquired without looking at him whether he would like her to give him a lift.

  Stephen spoke jerkily.

  “No, thanks. My car’s in the garage. I’ll pick it up and be home in good time for dinner.”

  “Very well.”

  Outside the White Hart Janine became dimly aware that Tim was keeping close to her, and when they reached the car-park it was he who provided the attendant with a tip, took her parcels out of her arms and stowed them away in the boot, and then opened the door for her and saw her into the drivingseat. Mechanically she fumbled with her gears, had a certain amount of trouble with the starter, and then heard Tim advising her, softly, through the car window.

  “Don’t let yourself become agitated. There’s very likely quite a good explanation. So often things are not what they seem!”

  Janine shook her head.

  “The explanation he offered wasn’t very convincing, was it?”

  “You mean the bit about meeting by accident on the train? Well, of course, they could have met by accident.”

  “But you don’t think so?”

  For the first time since they had left their table in the hotel dining-room, she met his eyes fully. Brown eyes and grey eyes gazed consideringly at one another. Then Tim’s narrowed a little.

  “Shall we say it’s one of those situations calculated to arouse suspicion, although the two leading participants may be quite innocent. I must admit that people who run into one another casually don’t normally see the necessity for celebrating the occasion with champagne and oysters.”

  Her grey eyes lightened a little as she smiled faintly.

  “You and I ran into one another by accident, and you bought me elevenses and an excellent lunch,” she reminded him.

  “Yes, but you and I are special.” The dark eyes gleamed at her in a semi-humorous, semi-serious fashion. “And I was hoping to impress you. You know … not too mean to stand a girl a meal, and so forth.”

  She looked a little impatient.

  “But Stephen … Stephen has no need to go out of his way to impress a client, particularly an exclient,” she mused, and Tim became flippant.

  “Perhaps he’s hoping she’ll shoot someone else and the opportunity will come his way to defend her all over again,” he suggested. “Good business in the future, if not in the present. A kind of investment against penury, in fact!”

  Janine’s whole expression rebuked him. And then she remembered something.

  “He didn’t even introduce us,” she recalled.

  “No, he didn’t.” Tim bent forward and adjusted one of her windscreen wipers for her. “But in my case, that wasn’t necessary, because I’ve already met Mrs. Hay. Didn’t you notice how sweetly she smiled at me before we left the restaurant?”

  Janine started up the car in earnest, and she nodded to Tim as the car inched forward.

  “Thank you once again for the lunch,” she said.

  “Think nothing of it!” He stuck his head inside the window. “I hope to see a lot more of you in the future. And don’t tell Chris about Stephen,” he warned.

  “Why not?” Her startled eyes met his. “Do you honestly think it’s something I ought to keep secret?”

  “I do.”

  “Then I’ll have to let Stephen know that I haven’t told Chris.”

  “Do that.”

  He withdrew his head, and she swung the car out of the car-park and back on the road which led to Sandals. She had enough to think about on the journey home to make the distance seem short, whereas it was actually rather more than twenty miles, and by the time she was speeding up the drive to the attractive front of Sandals she had arrived at the definite conclusion that Tim might be right, and in any case it would be too cruel to Chris to inform her bluntly that her husband had been seen sharing an expensive lunch with one of his lovely ex-clients, when he was supposed to be still in London … and up to his eyes in work.

  So far as Janine was able to recall there had been no message from Stephen which indicated he was even thinking about leaving London for the weekend, and certainly Chris was not expecting him.

  So she made up her mind that a policy of silence was the best policy, and in order to avoid complications she would waylay Stephen on his way into the house and warn him that Chris was quite unprepared, and he must treat the occasion as a pleasant surprise he had planned for her.r />
  In actual fact, it was quite a surprise for Chris when the moment arrived, but before that she met her sister serenely just inside the front door, and Stephen seemed to have no place in her thoughts as she enquired of Janine what kind of a day she had had, and how much she had enjoyed it.

  She was curious to see inside all Janine’s parcels, and the only moment when her eyebrows went up and she did look faintly taken aback was when Janine told her that Tim Hannaford had stood her an excellent lunch at the White Hart.

  “Tim? Oh, but that was nice!” she exclaimed. But somehow the expression in her eyes did not quite convince her sister that she really thought it was nice. “He’s such an amusing person to run into. Did he say anything about his aunt, Lady Hannaford?”

  “No.”

  “Did he mention Nurse Tempest?” There was definite curiosity in her voice this time. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that Lady Hannaford has decided to dispense with her? She’s such an obvious person,” on a note of almost spiteful emphasis. “So bent on making the most of her charms and impressing everybody favourably. I think it’s a mistake that Lady Hannaford doesn’t insist she wears uniform instead of that musical-comedy outfit she seems to think is a kind of pseudo-uniform.”

  “I thought she looked very attractive.”

  But Janine had other matters to concern her that had nothing to do with Nurse Tempest and her neat white collars and cuffs and strikingly elegant dresses, and she was wondering how best she could escape from Chris and station herself at the main entrance gate.

  “Here,” she said, thrusting one of the packages into Chris’s arms, and feeling thankful that she had bought her a present. “This is for you. Run along upstairs and open it, and tell me afterwards whether you like it. I can always change it if it’s the wrong colour for you.”

  Then, as soon as Chris had ascended the stairs and her footsteps could be heard traversing the corridor in the direction of her room, Janine flung down the rest of her shopping on the hall table and raced out to the gate. She was just in time to see Stephen’s car round the last bend in the approach lane which led to Sandals.

  Chapter X

  STEPHEN was looking very grim and preoccupied as he drove, and it was only when he caught sight of his sister-in-law that his expression altered. Even then it did not greatly change. He merely looked a little less preoccupied, and slightly more grim.

  “Well?” he said, as she held open the gate for him and he slowed the car just inside the drive. “Waiting for me? I suppose you’ve prepared Chris for my unlooked-for arrival? Was she delighted? Or was she, like you, intensely suspicious?”

  As the drive was more than half a mile in length Janine slipped into the car beside him. In any case, she had to make the situation clear to him.

  “Chris has no idea at all that you’re not in London,” she said.

  “What?” For an instant he looked almost ashamed of himself. “You mean to tell me that you haven’t prepared her?”

  “I thought it best not to,” Janine answered.

  His black eyebrows crinkled.

  “In order to spare Chris? Because I’ve no doubt you imagine there is something she ought to be spared!”

  “Well, isn’t there?” She turned in her seat and looked directly at him.

  He shrugged his shoulders, and stopped the car a good many yards from the front entrance.

  “I’m not going into all that now,” he said, with uncompromising curtness. “You imagine you know too much about me ever to have a really good opinion of me. But I’m grateful if you haven’t told Chris about seeing me at the White Hart. As a matter of fact, I was planning to take her by surprise, and seeing me drive up like this will give her more pleasure than having it rammed down her throat that I broke my journey in Exeter and took time off to entertain someone.”

  “I expect you often entertain people in London,” Janine remarked, in a casual tone.

  “Women, you mean?” he asked, glancing at her sideways.

  “They’re more fun than men, aren’t they?” she said.

  “Sometimes.” But the word seemed to hurt his mouth. “I had a very good lunch in Exeter, if that’s what you’re trying to get out of me, and Mrs. Hay is the kind of woman who justifies an occasional lunch, or the odd drink when one runs into her. She’s an entertaining woman.”

  “I always thought champagne was reserved for celebrations,” Janine remarked.

  His eyes glinted at her with a kind of badly controlled impatience.

  “What were you doing with Tim Hannaford at the White Hart, anyway?” he asked. “When I left here the two of you didn’t even know one another.”

  “Ah, but you’ve been gone quite a considerable time, haven’t you?” she murmured. “Almost three weeks, in fact. Time for friendships not merely to develop, but flourish!”

  “I hope you’re not thinking of developing a friendship with Hannaford,” Stephen remarked, with an extra touch of grimness in his voice. “You’ve been bitten once … remember?” smiling at her in a way she did not like, because it proved to her that he was not really repentant for his behaviour in the past. “As I was responsible for what happened in the past I wouldn’t like to think you were going to receive an even worse bite in the future.”

  “Meaning?” she asked, for the first time since she had known him actively disliking him.

  He shrugged those well-tailored shoulders of his again.

  “Oh, only that Tim is a ladies’ man … not in the best sense! He loves ’em and runs away, and if they show any signs of pursuit he runs that much faster. He’s never in the least likely to be serious. He appreciates his freedom too much. So do be careful!” They heard Miranda give one of her deep and booming barks, and then she came plunging through the shrubbery towards them. Before the hound reached the car the front door opened, and Chris appeared on the drive, looking ahead of her curiously, as if she had already detected the sound of car wheels.

  At sight of Stephen’s parked car she paused for a moment, and then she came running up and calling out breathlessly:

  “Why, Stephen!”

  Stephen descended on to the drive, and while Janine made a business of alighting and closing the car door behind her Stephen embraced his wife, and the two of them exchanged a quick and curiously embarrassed kiss, after which Chris laughed and started to talk rapidly.

  “Well, this is a surprise!” she declared. “Why didn’t you let me know?”

  “I thought you’d prefer a surprise.”

  He held her away from him, and he appeared slightly amazed by what he saw.

  “Why, you’re looking quite fit,” he told her. “You’ve got colour in your cheeks, and you appear to have filled out,” still holding her by the shoulders and studying her with interest, as his eyes gleamed quizzically. “And is this all due to Dr. Janine?” He glanced mockingly over his shoulder at his sister-in-law. “You appear to have a magical quality, Jan. My wife thrives in your company while she fades in mine. I’ll have to do something to put that right.”

  He walked to the boot of the car and lifted out his suitcase, after which he gave special attention to a small crate which he lifted out more gingerly. Once more his eyes seemed to seek Janine’s mockingly.

  “Champagne,” he said. “Invalid champagne! I bought it specially for Chris. And I’ve also got a bottle or two of something rather special which we can all of us enjoy, and we’ll broach one of them at a celebration dinner to-night. What do you say, my sweet?” chucking his wife under the chin and giving her a quick, light kiss on her forehead. “Don’t you think it’s something to celebrate when I come home?”

  “Of course.”

  But she sounded just a little perplexed, and her green eyes wandered in a slightly bewildered manner from her husband’s face to that of her sister.

  “You must have run into Stephen at the gate,” she said. “What were you doing so far from the house when you’ve only just got back from Exeter?”

  “I was thinking
of taking Miranda for a walk,” Janine answered with a glibness that surprised herself.

  Chris put out a hand and fastened it about the dog’s collar.

  “Miranda was with me,” she said. “We were both crossing the hall when we heard a car coming up the drive, and I let her go because she always likes to investigate when visitors come to Sandals.”

  Janine realised there was nothing she could say … only marvel at her own lack of cautiousness in inventing a story about taking the dog for a walk when that same dog was keeping its mistress company.

  However, Chris didn’t seem really suspicious, and as they entered the house she ceased to be even mildly sceptical about what had taken place in the last few minutes. If she thought there was anything peculiar about Stephen’s arrival the idea vanished as they turned towards the drawing-room door. It was too late for tea, and too early for drinks, so they simply sat and talked for a while until Stephen decided to go through to his study and write a few letters until it was time to change for dinner. Once the study door had closed behind him Janine found herself listening for the faint tinkling of the telephone as it was lifted from its rest, for with Mrs. Hay in Exeter and Stephen only a few miles away it seemed logical to arrive at the supposition that, sooner or later, he would telephone her—since she could not very well telephone him—and even if it was business they had to discuss another meeting would be arranged before he returned to London.

  Unless Mrs. Hay had already returned to London.

  A thought occurred to Janine before she went up to her own room to change for dinner, and she wondered whether it would be a good idea to telephone the hotel in Exeter—just supposing she could get to the one in the study when no one else was using it or the room—and find out whether Mrs. Hay had made a reservation there, and was, in fact, to be a guest at the hotel for the next few days.

  But as that rather savoured of a private enquiry agency, and she had no real reason to suspect her brother-in-law of unfaithful activities prejudicial to his wife’s happiness, she decided after more careful thought not to do anything of the kind even if she found the study unoccupied at some time during the evening.