And perhaps it was this independent attitude that put men off, because she hadn't had a steady boy-friend for some time, now that she came to think about it. la fact she tended lo use work crises as a test to see how a man would react. If he stopped seeing her, then all well and good, he wasn't the man for her, and if he came back for more…? Sara hesitated, a frown between her eyes. Didn't she lose respect for a man if he let her walk over him too often? Restlessly she got up and went into the kitchen to do the washing-up, and afterwards sat at the kitchen table where she resolutely opened her case and took out the work she had brought home with her. All right, suppose she hadn't had a relationship of-any length for some time, it didn't mean that she was never asked out. She had turned down two invitations only this month. And who needed a man permanently around anyway? She had a worthwhile job that stretched her undoubted talents and to which she devoted all her energy. A man would only get in the way. So damn Nicky and damn that impossible man Brandon! She'd got what she wanted out of life and if it didn't happen to coincide with the old-fashioned ideas of others, then it was just too bad!
It was late before Sara put her work away with a yawn, and she was asleep almost as her head touched the pillow, but she awoke suddenly, startlingly, the hairs at the back of her neck pricking with fright. She was completely alert, alive to every sound, just as our primitive ancestors must have been when they sensed danger.
'Nicky, is that you?' she called sharply, but there was no reply. Quickly she groped for the bedside lamp and switched it on, noting that it was three in the morning before she moved out into the still dark hallway. Switching the light on here too, Sara gently eased open the door of her sister's room. Nicky was fast asleep, she ' could just make out her fair hair on the pillow and the shape of her form huddled beneath the bedclothes. Quietly she shut the door and checked the rest of the flat before going back to bed, a little frown of puzzlement on her face. Must have been dreaming, she, supposed, although she couldn't remember doing so. For a long time she lay awake, alert for any other sounds, but everything was still and eventually she drifted off to sleep again.
The sound of the phone ringing penetrated dimly to her ears later that morning and made her sit up with a jerk. Heavens, what time was it? On seeing that it was seven-thirty she almost leaped out of bed, wondering why on earth she hadn't heard the alarm. Then realisation hit her and she remembered she was taking Nicky back to school today and there was no need to panic. But the phone was still ringing shrilly and she hurried into the sitting-room to answer it.
'Yes, hallo. Who is it?' she asked, smothering a yawn.
'This is Alex Brandon’ a very wide-awake voice informed her tersely. 'Is your sister with you?'
'Nicky? Of course she is,' Sara answered in some astonishment.
'Are you sure?'
'Yes, I'm quite sure. Why on earth do you want to know?'
�'Because Richard has done a bunk, and he's left a, note saying that he's gone off with Nicky! I found it when I went in to wake him this morning. But if you say your sister is with you. …'He paused. 'Miss Royle? Are you still there?’
'Yes—yes, I'm here,' Sara said very slowly, her hands gripping the receiver.
Alex Brandon's voice sharpened. 'Look, are you absolutely certain Nicky's there? Have you seen her this morning? You sound as if you've just got up yourself, and…'
Sara interrupted him: 'I—I think you'd better hold on.' She put down the receiver and went quickly to Nicky's room. It looked exactly the same as it had in the night, but now the dim light made the outline in the bed look unnatural; Hastily she polled open the curtains and then stood still, bracing herself to pull back the covers. The hair was one of her own hairpieces and the body was a rolled-up blanket. There was a note pinned to the pillow. Feeling suddenly weak, Sara sat on the edge of the bed and opened it with trembling fingers. It was very short: 'I'm going away with Richard. We shall get married as soon as I'm eighteen. Please don't worry about me, Nicky.’
The idiot! The crazy little idiot! For a moment anger almost drove the fear from Sara's mind. Nicky with only some unknown boy to look after her. And that boy's uncle on the other end of the phone she remembered ax she bit her lip.
'Hallo, Mr Brandon? Nicky's gone too,' she said baldly when she picked up the phone. 'She left a dummy in her bed to fool me.'
'And you very naturally fell for it,' Alex Brandon said with heavy sarcasm.
'When you've finished enjoying yourself at my expense, perhaps you could come back’ to the slightly more important matter of them running away together,’ Sara retorted, fear for Nicky making her voice sharp.
‘Their elopement you mean, don't you?'
'I don't suppose your nephew said where they were going?' Sara asked, ignoring his remark.
'Hardly. I know he hadn't much money on him, so presumably they're going to friends, but whichever way they're going they will probably have tried to hitch a lift Are they likely to have gone to friends of Nicky's?'
'No, all her friends are at school,' Sara answered almost offhandedly, her mind racing as she tried to put herself in Nicky's place. 'Hasn't your nephew any relations he might have gone to? Grandparents or something?'
'No, but he does have friends at university who have digs outside the college. He'll probably try to move in with them for a while. I'm going to drive over to the college and see if I can find out anything there.' His voice was hard and decisive. 'Can you drive?'
'Yes, of course I can drive,' Sara answered tartly.
'Then I suggest you take your car and head fen-Nicky's school. Some of her friends there might know Something. That's if you can spare the time from your job, of course,' he added sardonically.
Sara gritted her teeth angrily. 'As a matter of fact I can spare the time, but not to waste it by going all the way to Canterbury unnecessarily. You may think you're the Brain of Britain, Mr Brandon, but I happen to know where they're going!' And she slammed the receiver down with a triumphant thud.
CHAPTER TWO
The traffic heading north out of London was heavy and there were several frustrating traffic jams to be sat through before Sara turned on to the M1 motorway at last. She made good speed for a white but noticed that her petrol gauge needle was rather low so drove into the next service area, first pulling up outside the restaurant complex. Locking the car, she hurried through to the telephone booths, but they were all full and she had to wait, tapping her foot impatiently.
It seemed that she had been hurrying ever since the call from Alex Brandon. The telephone had rung twice more immediately after she had slammed the receiver down on him, but Sara had ignored it-, imagining his anger with some satisfaction. After dressing and packing some clothes, she had driven to the office where she had left the work she had taken home and gone immediately to see the manager. She had baldly explained that a family problem had arisen and she would need at least a week's compassionate leave. If he wouldn't grant her the leave he could take it off her holidays, but she was taking the time off anyway. The poor man had looked startled at this arbitrary treatment from someone who. was usually so accommodating and he hastened to assure her that she could have as much time as she wanted.
Sara had thanked him and gone back to her office to make a long-distance call. It was answered by a woman with a heavy northern accent. 'Yes, what do ‘ee want?'
'Mrs Ogden? This is Sara Royle. How is Miss Quinlan? Is she up and about today?'
'Well, miss, she's not feeling all that bright this morning,' the woman's rather despondent voice informed her. 'Still, I expert she'll get up later, she usually does. Did you want to speak to her?'
'No, please don't disturb her. Look, I believe Nicky might turn up there with a friend. Probably today, but k could be tomorrow. If she does, don't say that I called, but make sure they stay with you until I can get up there, will you?' she asked anxiously.
There was a silence at the other end of the line, until Mrs Ogden said slowly, 'A bit of trouble, is there?'
<
br /> 'Yes, I'm afraid so. You will try and keep her there, won't you?'
'Don't you worry, Miss Sara. She'll stay, I'll make sure of that.'
After thanking 'her, Sara had got in her car- and started off for Cumbria, crossing her fingers that she was right and that Nicky had gone to take refuge with Her godmother, Veronica Quinlan, who was a semi-invalid .and lived quietly with her devoted .housekeeper and nurse, Mrs Ogden, in an old, rather remote house overlooking one of the smaller lakes.
A phone booth was free at last and now the housekeeper answered again, telling her that there had been no sign of the runaways as yet, nor any telephone call to say they were on their way. The news didn't depress Sara too much; it was really too soon for them to have managed to get that far yet and they were probably too hard up to waste money on an unnecessary phone call; they were probably standing at the roadside somewhere along the way trying to hitch a lift. This thought made her want to hurry to try to catch up with them and she stepped quickly out of the booth. A man had been leaning negligently against the wall, arms folded, while he waited, straightened up as she came out and moved to block her way. It was Alex Brandon.
Sara stopped and stared up at him in astonishment, 'You ? But I thought you were——'
'Scouring the college? What was the point in going there when you were so obliging as to tell me that you knew where they were heading?'
'How did you know which way to go?' Sara asked suspiciously.
'Simple,' he said lazily. 'I drove over to your flat and waited for you to come out, then I followed you.’
Sara glared at him. 'You've got a nerve! I thought you were going to talk to your nephew and persuade him to wait? If you ask me he's completely irresponsible and no more fit to be married than you are to look after him, and…'
'But I didn't ask you. And if it comes to that you're no more fit to be guardian of a silly, romantic schoolgirl, so let's just stop abusing one another and make up our minds what we're going to do about the situation, shall we?' he cut in sharply.
'You can do what you like. I'm going to find Nicky and take her back to school before this—this whole stupid episode gets out of proportion.'
'And Richard?'
'He's your problem, not mine.’ Sara went to walk past him, but he put out his hand and caught her arm, effectively stopping her.
'Not so fast, Miss Royle. I'm not going to let you leave Richard stranded high and dry somewhere while you drag your sister back to school,’ he said angrily. Then less heatedly, 'Look, we both want the same thing, so why don't we talk this over while we have a cup of coffee? A quarter of an hour isn't going to make any difference,' he added, seeing Sara about to shake her head. 'And it would help if we could agree on our future attitude and actions before we found them, don't you think?'
While he was speaking he had been leading her inexorably towards the coffee shop. Sara had tried to pull her arm away, but he held her so firmly that she would have had to resort to an undignified struggle to get free.
'And you said it was only women who. resorted, to violence when they couldn't get their own way,' she remarked caustically when they were finally seated at a table, rubbing her arm where his fingers had gripped her to emphasise her point.
'That wasn't violence—I was merely helping you along,' he replied coolly.
'Like hell! I would have had to scream the place down before you'd let go.'
'Not even then. I'd merely have told any interested spectators that you were suffering from a mild breakdown due to the strain of overwork, and have taken you somewhere where you could have screamed your head off in private,' he told her, a gleam of malicious amusement in his grey eyes.
'Do you always deal so arbitrarily with anyone who crosses you?' Sara demanded.
'Only with the more foolish members of your sex.'
Derisively Sara said, 'I bet your wife just loves that.'
'I'm not married, but if I were it wouldn't be to the type of female who makes unnecessary scenes in public,' he replied bitingly. 'Drink your coffee.'
'I'll drink it when I'm good and ready,' she answered defiantly.
Alex Brandon shrugged. 'Suit yourself.' He poured cream into his own cup. Today he wasn't wearing his dark city suit, but instead a cream polo-neck sweater with tan cord trousers and a matching loose jacket. The more casual clothes didn't soften his appearance any, though; if anything they emphasised his height and the width of his shoulders. 'And his face was ac hard and implacable as ever.
He glanced up and caught her watching him. Raising a mocking eyebrow, he said, 'Shall we get down to business? Exactly where do you think they're heading? And what makes you so sure?'
Sara bent to drink her own coffee as she wondered whether or not to tell him. She would much prefer to talk with Nicky and her boy-friend alone, without Alex Brandon butting in, so that she could make up her mind what to do. She felt guilty about not having insisted that Nicky talk the matter out the night before instead of letting her go off to bed, and she wanted time now to talk to both of them, to decide whether this was just a schoolgirl crush or what could be a lasting relationship. If it was the former she would have to tread very carefully, causing as little hurt as possible, but not making any untruthful promises’ for the future just to ease the situation and make it less painful for Nicky now. And if she did think it was serious her task would be even harder. But for Nicky's sake she would have to try and split them up for now, probably by taking the boy aside and, appealing to his better nature. And she couldn't do that with, Alex Brandon breathing down her neck!
She lifted her head and found that he was watching her as closely as she had looked at him earlier. 'Nicky has a godmother who lives in the north. She's been there several times for holidays in the last few years and I'm pretty sure that's where she'd go.'
'Where in the north?' came the inevitable question.
Squaring her shoulders, Sara looked at him steadily. 'I'm not going to tell you. I want the chance to talk to Nicky alone. But if you like you can wait in a hotel in Manchester and I'll drop your Richard off there on the way back south.'
His jaw tightened. 'After you've given him a verbal lashing that will make him feel like a guilty criminal and completely destroy his confidence, I suppose?'
'I have no intention of' giving him a talking to—not that he doesn't seem to stand in crying need of one,’ she retorted. 'I just want to…'
'Don't worry, I'm not going to give you the chance. I'm coming with you, even if I have to follow you all the way to Scotland!'
‘That's ridiculous! You couldn't possibly follow me to—all that way. I could lose you easily.'
'You could try,' he retorted sardonically. 'But I agree that it's ridiculous, so why don't we take it as read that I'm coming along and travel together? You can leave your car here and we'll take mine.'
Sara gave a little disbelieving laugh. 'You really expect me to agree to that? I wouldn't put it past you to dump me somewhere the moment you found out where they were going.
Alex Brandon looked at her derisively. 'What a strange type of, man you must mix with,' he remarked with heavy sarcasm. 'Do all your boy-friends kick you out of their cars when, or if, you don't play ball?'
Her fingers, tightened on her coffee cup and it took a great deal of resolve not to throw the contents in his face. 'According to you, I don't have any boy-friends,’ she reminded him tartly.
With acid irony, he said, 'But there is one class of man—if you can call them, that—who're perverted enough to go for your type. I think they call them masochists.'
Eyes ablaze with anger, Sara crashed down her cup and headed out of the coffee shop, but she hadn't gone ten yards before he was by her side. Furiously she turned on him. 'Keep away from me, d'you hear me? And don't try to follow me, because if you do I'll call the police. And see how you get out of that one!'
Still seething, she hurried away from him and walked across to her car, driving it round to the petrol pumps. While she was there she
asked the attendant if he had seen a boy and a girl trying to hitch a lift earlier that day.
When she described Nicky, the man rubbed his chin and said, 'I seem to remember a couple of kids, very early this morning it was. I think they got a lift on a container van, but I'm not sure. Look, miss, why don't, you go over to the commercial section? The chap on the diesel pumps over there would be able to tell you better than I can. You can leave your car here for a minute, it isn't in the way.'
Sara thanked him and strode briskly across the garage area to where the commercial vehicles were being filled up. She had to walk for a while before the attendant was free to talk to her, but he immediately recognised her description and told her that Nicky and Richard had got a lift on a lorry that was going up the motorway as far as Rugby. The news brought her heartfelt relief; it meant that she had been right in her guess that they were making for the Lake District. And they would have to leave the M1 at Rugby so that they could try to get a lift going towards the M6 via Birmingham, she realised. With a lighter step she hurried back to the garage and to her surprise found the attendant bending over her car. He straightened as she approached and turned towards her, his face red with anger.
'I've never seen nothing like it!' he said, his voice outraged. 'Just backed in and smashed straight into it, he did, and then drove away fast before I could even switch off the pump. He ‘must've known he'd done it, though why a van should be backing in 'ere, I don't know.'
'Done it? Done what?' He stepped aside and Sara gave a gasp of incredulous dismay. 'Oh, no!' The front of her car had been smashed in like a trodden can. The lights were broken in the crumpled wings, water trickled from the perforated radiator, and the bent bumper trailed on the ground. ‘What happened? Who did it?’ For a distracted moment she had the wild idea that Alex Brandon had been responsible, but the attendant soon enlightened her.
'It was a big van. Didn't have a name on the side, or I'd have seen it, and the number plate was too dirty to read. I'm sorry, miss, I really am.'
'It's all right, it's not your fault. But lord, what a mess!'
Sally Wentworth - Liberated Lady Page 3
