The Station Boss

by Jane Corrie

  As she took the small man's hand in hers, and listened to his rather embarrassed sentiments on the death of her father, she couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Clay Dayman. It appeared that he not only had a sick wife on his hands, but a niece with quicksilver emotions liable to erupt at a moment's notice. She had not liked the reference to tablets, and was of the opinion that the good old-fashioned remedies were more in keeping with such behaviour. However, she was hardly in a position to point this out.

  After Pietro had left there was a short silence in the room, and Sheena wondered if Clay would now suggest that she meet his wife, although Vicky had made no mention of her aunt. In all probability, Sheena mused, she had fallen out with her too, particularly when she recalled the way Vicky had glared at her in the bedroom for what seemed to be very little reason.

  She watched Clay pour out their coffee and was reminded of the very same scene before their journey north, and this brought her thoughts back to Doyle,

  and she wished it hadn't. She would have to let him know that she was settled. A lump rose in her throat at the thought, and she swallowed quickly as she accepted the coffee from Clay and felt him glance at her with those too-knowing eyes of his.

  To cover her feelings and not give away her thoughts, she said quickly, 'Is your wife '

  `I have no wife,' Clay broke in abruptly, his dark eyes relentlessly noting Sheena's embarrassment. 'I believe I did say that this was an all-male domain. Vicky's the only female here.'

  Sheena's embarrassment turned to puzzlement and she gave Clay an accusing look. But Vicky's not sick,' she said. 'She's a normal, healthy girl.' Her smooth forehead creased into a frown as she sought for the right words. 'So she has tantrums, but that's probably due to her age. What is she? I'd put her about eleven or twelve,' she went on, answering her own question. 'She's just growing up, and there's no doubt that she misses her mother and father.'

  `What did she say about them when you were alone?' Clay cut in before she could finish her summing-up.

  Sheena gave him an exasperated look. 'Only the usual sort of things a child says,' she replied patiently. `That her mother was a fashion model and that her father was a photographer,' she gave a light shrug. `Even if it wasn't true—well, what does it matter? They're only daydreams.'

  Clay's eyes left Sheena and fastened on a spot behind her, but he was not seeing the kitchen wall, and

  there was a look in his eye that she could not interpret.

  Vicky's fifteen,' he said with quiet deliberation. `As for daydreams—well, you didn't know it, but you hit the nail on the head there. Her parents were what she said they were, but were is the operative word. They never reached Paraguay, their plane came down in dense forest only a few miles from their destination. There were no survivors.'

  It took a second or so for Sheena to grasp the stark implication of his words, and when it did, her eyes widened in consternation. She stared back at Clay. `You mean, she doesn't know they died in the crash?' she asked in a shocked voice as she envisaged Vicky's reaction to the news.

  Clay's eyes went back to the spot on the wall again before he answered harshly, 'She knows, only she won't accept it. That's what I meant by daydreams. She's put up a mental block of defence against the truth. You saw her reaction just then, didn't you? It's the same each time we try to get through to her.'

  Sheena looked down at the floor, noting absently how flawlessly clean the bright parquet tiles were, but her thoughts were not on Pietro's domestic abilities. She had been just fifteen when she had lost her mother, and she could recall only too well the loss and the resultant grief of that loss. But she had not been alone, her father had been there to console her —a father who had laid his personal grief aside in order to comfort his daughter. She blinked hastily. Vicky had lost her father too. She shook her head be-

  wilderedly. It didn't seem right that she should lose both parents.

  `If there's anything I can do, I shall be glad to do it,' she said in a low voice, and looked swiftly away from Clay who was now watching her closely. 'I lost my mother when I was the same age,' she added quietly, 'so I know how it feels.'

  But you had your father, didn't you?' Clay reminded her, a little cruelly to Sheena's way of thinking, nevertheless it was the truth and she nodded dumbly in acknowledgment of this.

  `Then you'll stay on?' Clay asked her abruptly, making it look as if she had a choice, though she had a nasty feeling that she hadn't.

  `Until Vicky gets straightened out,' she replied cautiously, not wanting to commit herself further.

  `That might be for a very long time,' Clay warned her. 'She's kept up this charade for almost six months.' At Sheena's surprised gasp, he gave a grim nod. 'I did tell you that she was receiving medical help, didn't I? Well, the specialist's advice was not to rush it. He's convinced that she'll come out of it in her own good time.'

  But surely,' began Sheena in a puzzled voice, `surely her friends and other people know the truth,' she hesitated. 'I mean, how can she possibly keep up such a pretence?'

  `By attacking anyone who dares to attempt to break down the barrier she's erected,' Clay replied. `It's just as well that she's at an age when we can dispense with further schooling. If she'd been younger

  I would have had to get in a tutor. She's in no state to mix with other girls of her own age. In their own line her parents were quite well known. There was a splash in the papers about the tragedy at the time, and her blatant refusal to acknowledge their deaths would only make her a target for well-meaning but entirely misguided do-gooders.'

  Sheena thought about this aspect, but she couldn't really agree with the diagnosis. It's got to happen sometime,' she said quietly. 'She's got to admit to the truth one day—I would have thought the sooner the better. The longer it goes on, the harder it's going to be for her to accept.'

  Clay's well-moulded mouth hardened. It's not as easy as that,' he said grimly. 'Two months before the crash my mother, Vicky's grandmother, died. If there was anyone Vicky loved as much as she loved her parents, it was her gran, and she took it hard. She's an emotional child,' he went on in a weary voice. 'You must have noticed that much. She was brought up in an atmosphere of love and stability, now she has nothing but a huge emotional void in her life, and it's that that she can't accept. She needs stability and understanding, and that's what I'm trying to provide for her.'

  Sheena watched Clay's long lean fingers suddenly curl into a hard fist, and again she felt the strength of the man and wondered why he hadn't married. Men of his looks and calibre, apart from his obvious wealth, were rarities not often encountered. In that way he reminded her of Doyle, and she was sure that

  many a feminine glance had been directed hopefully in his direction. She was also sure that he was not a man to play the field, not after he had fixed his sights on the woman that he had decided to marry. That was just the way that Sheena saw it. He would go single-minded after his prey and would brook no refusal. She had already had some experience of this single-mindedness of his where she was concerned, and could well imagine the forces that would be brought into being where his personal hopes were concerned. The woman wouldn't stand a chance !

  Clay's voice broke into her musings, making a slight flush stain her cheeks, and she was fervently grateful that his thoughts were elsewhere and he was not likely to pick up her wayward ones. 'Vicky could have gone to one of my other sisters' homes. They were quite willing to take her, but they've children of their own, and right now I feel that the comparison to their happy existence as against her empty one would be more than she could take. Later perhaps it might be a good idea, but not now.'

  Sheena nodded in agreement with this observation. 'It's a pity that she hasn't any brothers or sisters,' she commented thoughtfully, 'especially if they'd been a lot younger than herself—she would have rallied round then and had no time to brood.'

  Clay's thoughtful eyes rested on her. 'She needs a diversion right enough, I'll agree with you there, and I'm hoping tha
t between us we can provide one.'

  Her solemn eyes met his. 'We can try anyway,' she replied quietly.

  Clay smiled at her, and she felt a sharp pull at her heart strings that somewhat surprised her, but she put her reactions down to the unexpectedness of that sudden smile. 'Good ! ' he replied with evident satisfaction. 'I was hoping you'd feel that way. Firstly, I suggest that we get to know each other a little better. The news of our engagement won't then be shown in the light of a ploy to break down Vicky's defences—which it will be, of course,' he added, with no small amount of amusement in his eyes as he took in Sheena's shocked expression.

  Sheena blinked. She felt like shaking her head. She hadn't heard right, surely? Was she mad, or was he? Nothing had been said about an engagement, even a mock one. She gave him a look of sheer exasperation and on seeing the wicked imp of amusement still lurking in those dark eyes of his, she swallowed. 'I don't feel I can promise you that much support,' she said in a voice that had lost its natural tone.

  She was now coming out of shock, and as the whole, to her mind, absurd situation loomed up before her, she added furiously, 'I don't think it's funny! In fact, it's ridiculous ! And you know it ! ' she tacked on fervently. 'For goodness' sake, where did you get such an absurd idea from?' she queried on a distracted note.

  Clay's eyes went over her slight figure in a slow appraising manner and Sheena felt herself flush, and she wanted to slap his arrogant face. She supposed she ought to have been flattered by his suggestion, but he had forgotten Doyle. She loved Doyle and

  wanted no entanglement with any other man—mock or otherwise.

  His eyes came to rest on her bright cheeks and then took in her sparkling eyes that now gleamed like blue sapphires. 'Now that's a silly thing to say,' he drawled lightly, making her flush deepen in embarrassment. `As a matter of fact,' he went on in a calm voice, 'I've had the idea for,' he glanced at his watch, 'just over twenty-four hours.'

  Sheena took in a deep breath to calm herself. Before they had left for the North was what he meant. Had her precipitate arrival the evening before, in what he had described as a disarrayed state, given him the idea? Was he now about to adopt the same kind of tactic that he thought Doyle had adopted? Was she, in his eyes, fair game? Being engaged to her would give him the right to her company at all times —and not only that, she thought with a stab of sheer panic as she envisaged him making affectionate advances towards her.

  Her dark hair bounced from side to side, as she said emphatically, 'Well, you'll just have to forget it. I'll help any other way, but not that way.'

  `Not even to cure a sick girl?' Clay asked gently, but with a touch of challenge in his voice that Sheena tried hard to ignore. 'You know it could have useful side effects,' he continued lightly. 'While I appreciate your feelings in not wanting to get involved, at least, not in that particular way, there's nothing like competition for settling an issue one way or the other. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?' he

  asked quietly. 'It won't cost you anything either. I have no intention of overstepping our present relationship. You don't have to believe me, of course, but I'd like you to give it a try.'

  His gaze left Sheena and he gazed back at the wall behind her again. 'It was a little game Vicky used to play with my mother when she came to stay with us. Mother was a great matchmaker. After the girls married, she turned her attention on John and me, and we were holding our own,' he commented with a wry smile, 'until John decided to take the plunge a year ago. That left me in the hot seat as far as the matrimonial stakes went, particularly as I was older than John.' He gave an expressive shrug. 'It was a family joke, you see, all perfectly harmless, but Vicky entered into it with as much enthusiasm as Mother did.'

  His gaze returned suddenly to the watching Sheena, who still had a wary look in her eye. 'I'm just asking you to help me get her back to normal. I know that to your way of thinking what I've suggested sounds a very odd way of doing it, but believe me, it's the very thing to lift her out of her world of make believe.'

  `By presenting her with another make believe situation?' Sheena queried sceptically. 'I don't see how that's going to help, particularly when she finds out the truth. You'll be back to square one with a vengeance then,' she warned him.

  Clay gave her an odd kind of assessing look that she could make nothing of, but it disturbed her somehow. As a possible interpretation hit her she drew in

  her breath sharply. He could be telling her that it might not be a make believe situation. She expelled her breath slowly. If that was so then she had better make a few things clear right from the start.

  She was about to expound on this when Clay beat her to it with a casual, 'Remember what I said about it having useful side effects? As for Vicky having a relapse, I very much doubt that she would—either way, it's a diversion that I can't afford to pass up. In spite of the specialist's advice, I feel that things have gone on long enough, and I'm sure you'll agree with me there,' he added significantly.

  Sheena was still thinking about his remark about the useful side effects of such a situation and was only too well aware of what he was referring to. The way he saw it was that it would make Doyle come up to scratch. He had also mentioned something about competition and how there was nothing like it to settle an issue. She swallowed convulsively. She didn't want Doyle on those terms. He'd had plenty of chances to make the past up to her but he hadn't taken one of them, not even after the money had been returned. Her lips firmed. Doyle didn't want to marry her, at last not legally. He wanted her to be his common-law wife. Her soft lips twisted ironically at the thought—it was a nicer way of putting it than the old term of 'mistress'.

  She suspected that this hard man watching her with a close scrutiny was well aware of Doyle's true intentions where she was concerned. He'd called him a heel, hadn't he? Yet for his own convenience

  he was willing to forget all his previous deductions on this front, even to the point of lowering his haughty standards and holding out a chance of a reunion between her and Doyle as bait to gain her cooperation. Sheena closed her eyes. She didn't know what she had done to deserve landing herself in such a predicament.

  'I'm not quite sure what you mean by useful side effects,' she replied coldly, not caring if he knew that she was lying, and judging by the way that his eyes narrowed, he did. 'But if you're referring to Mr Charter, I have no intention of letting him know where I'm staying—at least,' she amended hastily, as she realised that this bald statement left her completely without a genuine excuse to go back to the south should she ever wish to do so, and the way things were going it looked as if she might need such an excuse, 'until I'm ready to do so,' she ended lamely. am really sorry but I can't agree to what you've suggested.' She felt very mean as she said this. Clay had done a lot for her and she hated not being able to comply with his wishes. If he'd asked anything else of her she would be only too pleased to help.

  He did not reply but stood looking at her, and she began to feel mesmerised, as if by sheer will power alone he was trying to force her to do what he wanted her to do. In sheer desperation she cried out, 'Surely there's someone more suitable than me to ask to carry out that role? I'm sure you've lots of friends—' She hesitated here; she had wanted to say girl-friends

  but had said friends, but he must know what she meant, she thought crossly.

  A sardonic smile appeared on Clay's face as he replied dryly, 'I'm not short of feminine company, if that's what you're referring to,' making her blush and feel as if she had spoken out of turn. 'The trouble is,' he went on slowly, but deliberately, 'that charming as they may be, I have no intention of putting my neck in that kind of noose, not even a make believe one.'

  Sheena looked away. She knew what he meant. He wasn't boasting, just stating a bald fact. That he was considered a matrimonial prize came as no surprise to her. She could also understand why he had chosen her as the fictional fiancee. He would be safe with her because he knew that she loved Doyle. She stared down at her h
ands now twisted together tightly. It was little enough to do for him surely, and she did owe him some allegiance for what he had done for her father. She looked up slowly and met Clay's enigmatic gaze. 'Very well,' she said in a low voice, and gave a helpless shrug. 'If you really think it will help,' she added lamely.

  Clay's sober expression vanished as she spoke, and he gave her a heartstopping smile that made her hold her breath for a second and wonder just what she had let herself in for. 'Thank you, Sheena,' he said quietly. I had a feeling I could rely on you.'

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  CHAPTER SIX

  DIRECTLY after lunch, Clay suggested that Sheena might like to rest for the remainder of the afternoon, and this she gladly agreed to. So much had happened during the short period of time since her arrival at Rimini that a rest, or a peaceful interlude, was of dire necessity.

  As she made her way to the room that Vicky had taken her to earlier, she felt like a long-distance runner. She was breathless and utterly depleted, as if she had run the distance from the South to the North and was now ready for a well-earned rest.

  She kicked off her sandals and with a sigh of thankfulness sank down on to the bed and as soon as her head had touched the pillows she was sound asleep.

  When she awoke it was dusk, and it took her some time to get her bearings. When she had them she sat up quickly, wondering what time it was and how long she had slept.

  Other things then impinged upon her, such as the astounding suggestion made by Clay that they should enter into a mock engagement in order to divert Vicky from carrying on with her pathetic makebelieve that her parents were still alive.

  `Are you awake?' asked a small tentative voice, as

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