Cathie’s mind also registered regret. Auckland was so far away, and any chance of ever seeing Baird again would probably be remote. ‘I’m sure Baird is too busy to waste time on only one of us,’ she said, making an effort to speak casually. ‘Perhaps tomorrow when we can both go—?’ There now, she thought with satisfaction. That should tell him I’m not falling over backwards to see his precious factory. That should let him know I’m not itching for his company. But the ache in her heart told her otherwise.
Baird’s teeth flashed in a mirthless smile. ‘Please don’t hesitate to speak your mind and tell me the truth.’
Cathie’s back straightened in her chair. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean there’s no need to avoid admitting you’d be bored to tears by such mundane things as bales of wool and machinery.’
She spoke indignantly. ‘Who says I’d be bored?’
‘Your lack of enthusiasm speaks for itself. Still—I suppose it’s understandable when one’s mind is filled with the idea of rushing to Auckland to sell antiques.’ His voice echoed bitterness.
‘Please believe that I wouldn’t like to go to Auckland without having seen the factory,’ she assured him.
‘Very well. In that case you will come this afternoon,’ he informed her. ‘When my father arrives my own time will be fully taken up with his insistence upon going over the entire plant with a fine-tooth comb. He’s a real perfectionist.’
Like his son, Cathie thought, realising it would be useless to argue, therefore she said, ‘Give me a few minutes to put these dishes into the machine and powder my nose.’
‘Attend to your nose—I’ll fix the dishes,’ he ordered abruptly.
Feeling vaguely excited, she left the table and ran upstairs, where she hastily applied makeup and ran a comb through her hair. When she came down again the kitchen was tidy and Baird was waiting for her.
Little was said as they drove through the streets leading to an industrial area of the city, and when Baird entered a parking yard Cathie was surprised by the extent of the long buildings that surrounded it. He then led her through a wide door where they were faced by numerous square sacks of scoured wool, which, he explained, were waiting to be put through a blending and oiling process before being blown into bins at the back of the carding machine.
Taking her hand, he guided her to where the wool was dyed in large stainless-steel vats, and when he showed her the driers he still retained a hold on her fingers. This small intimacy made it difficult for her to assimilate all he said, and by the time they reached the carding machine Cathie was in a slight daze.
Protective netting prevented anyone from falling against the long, intricate mechanism that sent the wool forward on revolving cylinders until it reached the stage of resembling a spider’s web. Fluff floated aloft, clinging to every conceivable resting place, while the air was filled with the din of a deafening clatter. Men were in charge of the carding, and she received a brief grin from Ralph, the foreman. She was also aware that Baird no longer held her hand.
When they reached the lengthy spinning machine with its countless bobbins she saw that women were in charge. She also noticed that they tried to observe her without appearing to do so, and she caught questioning glances being flashed among them. Had Baird noticed their interest? she wondered. Did it stem from the fact that he was here with someone other than Lola?
Unexpectedly, he said, ‘I trust you’re not becoming bored.’
The query surprised her. ‘Bored? I’m fascinated. What makes you imagine I could be bored?’
He shrugged. ‘I suppose because it bores Lola. She hates the place. She declares it to be my only interest in life.’
To the exclusion of herself, Cathie thought privately.
Baird then led her to machines where he explained the difference between warp and weft. And from there she was taken to a weaving loom where he showed her the warp threads running lengthwise, and the weft threads running from side to side.
Entranced, she watched cloth being created by the interlacing of warp and weft, and by the combined action of numerous moving parts of machinery. The procedure was accompanied by the rackety clatter of the loom.
Baird spoke in her ear. ‘The noise doesn’t worry you?’
She laughed as she replied, ‘What noise—?’
After they had been through the finishing departments where the thick cloth was examined and prepared for final presentation as blankets or rugs, he took her to his office. One of the girls brought them a tray with tea, and as he sipped the hot drink he regarded her across the top of his cup.
‘Well, what do you think of the factory?’ he asked in a voice that almost hinted that her opinion mattered.
‘I’m amazed,’ she admitted. ‘I had no idea it would be so large—or that there was so much attached to the making of a woollen article.’ She hesitated then asked, ‘Why do you call it a factory? Surely it’s a woollen mill?’
‘I happen to dislike the word “mill.” It means to grind or crush. You can call it a hangover from my boyhood days when many of the stories I read featured mill owners who were cruel, hard men. I’m not keen to have that particular image attached to myself, therefore I prefer to think of this place as a factory.’
Cathie regarded him in silence while recalling his kindness to Amy, and his loyalty to Lola. He was a man of integrity, she decided. Someone with whom she could live quite happily—not that that was an admission of any importance. It just meant that despite their odd tiffs she—she liked him more than any other man she had ever met.
At last she said, ‘You were probably reading about mill owners who made slaves of their workers during the depression days of the last century. You couldn’t be like any of those ghastly individuals, no matter how hard you tried.’
‘Thank you for the kind words.’ His tone had become sardonic. ‘Are you the same lady who once told me I’m a pain in the neck and completely obnoxious? It was in Scotland, remember?’
She forced a smile. ‘I wonder what made me say such things. Is it possible I was being attacked for crimes that were not my own? Perhaps I was hitting back at you for some reason. Any idea of what that reason could have been?’
‘OK, OK—I get the point. At least it enabled you to see the worst side of me,’ he said ruefully.
‘When I’m in Auckland I shall remember only your kindness to Amy.’
His deep voice became lowered. ‘Is that all? You’ll make an effort to wipe everything else from your mind?’
She looked away from him. ‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Auckland,’ he said reflectively while staring into his cup. ‘Are you sure you want to go there?’
She sighed. ‘I must go where I can find work—and considering that this job has been offered to me I’ve little option but to accept it. I wish it were nearer home, but it is with someone with whom I’ve worked previously—and it is in antiques...’ Her words trailed away, betraying a complete lack of enthusiasm for the coming venture.
‘How are you on design?’ The question came unexpectedly.
‘I did art at school, and that was followed by a more advanced art course at night school. Why do you ask?’
‘It’s possible that I could give you a job.’
‘You mean here in the mill—I mean in the factory? The thought of working at one of those machines gives me the horrors.’
‘I mean in the designing department,’ he explained patiently. ‘We’re constantly searching for new patterns for our rugs. They need to be serviceable, yet appealing to the eye.’
‘You didn’t show me a designing department,’ she said.
‘Well, it’s not really a separate department because Ralph and I work out most of the patterns in the side-room attached to this office. We work at a table in the corner of the showroom where buyers come to examine samples of work.’
‘By working in there you can see what patterns are already in stock,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘And you would also become aware
of what was sold quickly, or has not been quite so popular.’
‘That’s very perceptive of you,’ he applauded. ‘If you’d like to try your hand at design the table would become your workbench. You could continue to live in the house and combine the job with a few household chores.’
‘You mean I could take Lola’s place?’
‘That’s right. I’d get a small car so that you could work broken hours between the house and the design table. I’d pay you whatever Mrs Morgan in Auckland intends to offer.’
She said, ‘I already have a Mini. It’s at Levin awaiting my return. But without Amy in the house wouldn’t it be the scandal of the neighbourhood?’
‘Would you worry about that in this enlightened day and age?’
‘I know somebody who would be seething mad about it—somebody just over the fence,’ she pointed out drily.
‘Can’t you understand that that is part of my devious plan? I want Lola off my back. I want to be free of her possessiveness—although I should warn you that there could be unpleasantness coming from her direction.’
‘I know what you mean. I’ve sampled a little of it already.’
‘Then you’ll risk sampling more?’ he asked quietly.
‘I’ll consider it only on condition that you can assure me it will be of benefit to yourself, and not just charity to me. I refuse to accept charity, and this sounds suspiciously like it.’ It also sounded too good to be true, she decided.
‘I fail to see that it’s charity,’ he said. ‘You will be working quite hard to keep the house tidy, attend to our meals and at the same time use your creative ability to come up with fresh ideas for our rug patterns.’
‘I’ll start with knee rugs,’ she said, almost as if her mind had been made up. ‘It’ll be like crawling before I walk.’
‘Good girl—you sound as if you’ve come to a decision. This is where you’ll be working.’ He led her into the next room.
The table in the corner held books on colour and design, but her attention was drawn towards the shelves lining the walls which were stacked with blankets and rugs. The former, soft and fluffy, ranged from pastel to brighter shades, while the latter varied from the creams and greys of natural, undyed wool to tartans.
They were engrossed in examining knee rugs when a girl entered the showroom. She swept a veiled look over Cathie, but spoke to Baird. ‘Excuse me, boss, I’ll take the tray if you’ve finished with it. And there’s a lady waiting to see you—’
‘OK, send her into the office,’ Baird said idly, then to Cathie he added, ‘If this is a buyer you might be able to gauge likes and dislikes.’ He then left her in the showroom while he returned to the office.
But it was not a buyer. It was Lola, and her complaining voice rose on the air like a wail. It floated through the door and into the showroom to reach Cathie’s ears. ‘Baird—I had to come and see you—I didn’t want to use the phone with other people in the salon listening to every word I said—’
Baird spoke quietly. ‘OK, simmer down. What’s the matter?’
‘It’s her, of course—that redhead you’ve got in the house. I want to know how long she’ll be there.’
‘I can’t see why it should concern you,’ he said smoothly.
‘It concerns me because she’s stolen my job. She’s taking away my contact with you.’
Baird spoke sharply. ‘You’re being ridiculous, Lola. You have no need of that morning job. You’ll be far better employed spending more time in your salon.’
Lola went on in a whining voice, ‘Darling Baird, can’t you see how it is with me? I want to be close to you—I want to keep your house in order, and I love doing your shirts.’
In the showroom Cathie wondered if she should make her presence known to Lola, and then she decided she’d leave it to Baird, because after all he knew she was there. And then she stiffened as she listened to Lola’s next words.
‘This morning I went to fetch the shirts, but what did I find? I found her doing them. She told me I could forget about ever doing them again because—because she intended to catch you.’ The last words came with a rush.
Baird laughed. ‘Catch me? What on earth would she mean by that?’
‘It’s not a laughing matter, Baird,’ Lola said sharply. ‘She means to marry you, of course.’
‘This doesn’t sound at all like Cathie. Are you sure you’re telling the truth?’ His voice had become hard.
‘Oh, yes, I’m very sure. She also said that life in your fine home would suit her nicely because Palmerston North was not far from Levin where her family lives. Can’t you see how it all fits in?’
‘No, I can’t.’ The words came like a snarl.
‘And another thing—she also said she intended to tell you she had seen me shoplifting, which naturally is a lie.’ There was a pause before Lola asked anxiously, ‘Did she tell you she’d seen me shoplifting, Baird?’
During the silence that followed Cathie felt her heart sink because she knew that Baird would at least recognise the truth of this statement. It would give credibility to every other lie Lola had uttered, therefore she listened anxiously for his reply.
‘Yes—she did happen to mention it,’ he admitted grudgingly.
‘But you didn’t believe her—please say you didn’t believe her,’ Lola persisted in a pleading voice. ‘You know I’d never do such a thing.’
‘No, I didn’t believe her.’ Baird assured Lola.
‘But you do believe me? You’ll think about everything I’ve told you? Please promise you’ll do that, Baird.’
‘Yes—I’ll do that. Now I think you should return to the salon. I presume you have transport?’
‘Yes. I came in the car Mummy and I share.’
‘Right. I’ll see you out to it.’ His words were terse.
Cathie heard them vacate the office, and only then did she leave the place where she’d been standing transfixed and make her way to the chair beside the corner table. Sinking into it, she sat huddled while awaiting Baird’s return.
When he strode into the showroom he came straight to the point. ‘I presume you heard that little lot?’ he demanded in a sardonic tone while his brown eyes glinted at her.
‘Every word,’ she admitted, straightening her shoulders in an effort to shake off the dejection which had wrapped itself about her. ‘I can’t help wondering how much of it you believe.’
‘Lola claims she came to collect my shirts this morning.’
‘Yes—she arrived when I was ironing them. But the conversation as she reported it did not take place.’ She looked at him questioningly, her brows raised. ‘Or are you quite convinced that it did?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t know what to believe,’ he growled in a low voice, his handsome features marred by a scowl.
Her chin rose. ‘Please don’t insult my intelligence by suggesting I’d make such statements to Lola. She’d be the last person—’ She drew a deep breath. ‘However, your doubts have at least brought me to a decision.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I shan’t be accepting the position you offered, although I thank you for it just the same. I shall go to Mrs Morgan in Auckland, and then you’ll know you’re quite safe.’
‘Safe? What the devil are you talking about?’
‘You’ll be in no danger of being caught—by a Campbell.’ Her lip trembled as she added, ‘Now—may we go home?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
BAIRD’S expression was serious as he moved closer and looked down into her face. ‘No, we may not go home. At least, not before we’ve sorted out this problem.’
‘There’s nothing to sort out,’ Cathie said tightly.
‘Oh, yes, there is.’ His jaw took on its stubborn line. ‘I’m thinking of Amy. I’ve no wish to see you rushing in a red-headed rage to give her the news that you’re going to Auckland. She’ll be most upset. She told me she hoped you wouldn’t take that job.’
Cathie was startled. ‘She did? Why was that?’
‘I can only presume it’s the family tie which seems to be so important for Amy and her sister. She explained that she’d only just found you, and it would be like losing you almost at once.’
‘Amy will understand when she knows the circumstances. She’ll agree that I can’t possibly remain in the vicinity of a man who—who imagines I’m trying to trap him into marriage,’ she said coldly.
He shook his head as though slightly bewildered. ‘I must admit I’ve seen very little evidence of it.’
‘Do you need to, when you have Lola’s word for it?’ she demanded scathingly.
He gave a short laugh. ‘If it’s of any comfort to you, I don’t believe it.’
‘Really?’ She spoke with incredulity. ‘A short time ago you said you didn’t know what to think, so perhaps you could tell me the reason for this rapid decision.’
He sent her a mirthless smile. ‘It was the recollection of your true sentiments towards me. How could a girl contemplate marriage with a man she considers to be obnoxious, and a pain in the neck?’ The words were flung at her with bitterness.
She could find nothing to say. Previously, she had regretted uttering those words, but now she almost blessed their face-saving value. At the same time the thought drew a sigh from her because honesty forced her to admit that she did not consider him to be even remotely obnoxious—quite the reverse, in fact, but instead of voicing these reflections she switched the subject to his neighbour.
‘What will you do about Lola?’ she asked timidly while feeling almost afraid to mention the name.
‘It would be wiser for her to continue as usual. If she doesn’t, my mother will demand to know why Lola isn’t doing my shirts and flicking a duster about the house as she usually does. She’ll demand to know why you have taken over what Lola has been doing so well for the last few years.’
‘I know what you mean. She’ll blame me for taking Lola’s job, and heaven alone knows what Lola will tell her concerning the matter.’ Somehow she was rapidly losing the urge to meet Baird’s mother, and her eyes became shadowed as she admitted, ‘I’m beginning to feel rather apprehensive about your parents’ visit.’
Heir to Glengyle Page 11
