'True love?' His grin was devilish. 'Too right I wouldn't. I must take after my mother, half the time I can't remember their names.' That was the most callous, chauvinistic thing Charlotte had ever heard. 'Going to stick with you, is he,' he asked, 'now you're no longer the well-heeled Miss Dunscombe?'
She would have hit him if she had had anything in her hand hard enough to knock him over, but he would probably return a slap across the face, so she gritted her teeth and said sweetly, 'Well, in your case I can understand that it's the money they're after.'
He laughed. 'Not entirely.' Sheer animal magnetism emanated from him like an aura, but she would never show that she was susceptible to it and she said coldly, 'Jeremy would love me if I didn't have a penny.'
'Which you don't.'
'So all right, I know!' He didn't have to be so boorish. So she had shot out of the room, where she was having a discussion with him, to ring Jeremy and talk about nothing in particular. But that had only taken a couple of minutes. He didn't have to insult her by suggesting that Jeremy only cared about money. 'You don't have to keep reminding me,' she snapped. 'I do know I'm broke. And I know that if we stay under your roof I'll owe you—but just don't expect payment in kind!'
The fringe of hair she was still wearing over her forehead was getting in her eyes and she tossed her head and glared at him and he drawled, 'Your father isn't the only one with inflated ideas about your sex rating. You're not going to be raped—at least not by me.'
She breathed deep, getting enough breath to shriek at him, and the middle button her blouse popped open and he laughed, 'Although if you go around looking like that I wonder you've avoided it so far.'
Aunt Lucy came into the hall and stopped dead, seeing Charlotte, dishevelled and indignant, then came rushing up demanding, 'What have you been doing to her?'
'That's what you asked me a couple of days ago,' said Saul wearily, 'and the answer's still the same, not a bloody thing.'
'We've been arguing,' said Charlotte. 'I shouldn't be making phone calls while he's talking to me.'
Aunt Lucy had thought he was propositioning her at least. This explanation for Charlotte's flushed face nonplussed her, and there was the blouse. She said sharply, 'You've got a button undone, I told you that blouse was too tight.'
'It wasn't till it shrank in the wash,' Charlotte muttered, 'and it won't be now when I get time to put another stitch in the buttonhole.'
'Do you think we might get down to business?' said Saul.
'Oh, I am so sorry,' said Charlotte. 'Here I go again, nattering on. Just what business did you have in mind?'
'Turning your assets into capital,' he said. 'And I'm referring to the furniture.'
Her defiance drained away, because this was a bitter business. Saul Laurenson put a hand on the hall table, a pretty little Georgian piece that he could have smashed with a clenched fist, and said, 'For instance, this is mine. You'd better see the bills of sale, then you'll know what to get valued. If you wish to sell any of the remaining items perhaps you'd give me first refusal.'
Then the house could stay as it was, looking the same but never the same again. Charlotte had to gulp away the lump in her throat before she could say, 'That could be very convenient.' Aunt Lucy was rubbing the table's edge, where Saul had fingerprinted the patina of the rosewood, with her apron, and Charlotte knew that she was beginning to realise what all this meant. She loved even the furniture here. She had spent most of her life caring for it, as well as for the people who lived in the house.
'Which rooms do you want?' Charlotte asked. They had to get all this settled, and Saul answered promptly, 'I'll keep the bedroom I'm using, and I shall need an office. Your father won't be using his for a while'—if ever—'so I'll stay with that, and perhaps we could share the dining and drawing rooms.'
That should be bearable for a few weeks in the year, and the rest of the time would be like old times. Except that Saul Laurenson would have the right, at any time of the day or night, to march in and start ordering them all around. Charlotte said quietly, 'That sounds reasonable,' and Aunt Lucy said, 'Mr Colin will have to have a room downstairs,' as though they had forgotten that.
'The garden room.' Charlotte had already decided that would be perfect. It was on the ground floor, overlooking the garden and adjacent to the cloakroom. They could turn it into a cosy bed-sitter until her father was fit to climb the stairs again to his old bedroom. 'Is there anything else?' She looked at Saul, who asked, 'May I borrow your horse?'
'To ride?' Of course to ride, he wasn't likely to be setting Kelly to work. She said, 'Of course,' before he could answer, adding, 'Don't ride him hard, he's got a soft mouth.'
If Kelly was ill-treated she couldn't endure that, but Saul's smile was quite different this time. 'I won't jump him over any hedges without checking that the road's clear.' Charlotte smiled faintly in response, sorry she had said that because she was sure he would never ill-treat an animal. Humans maybe. Georgy hardly seemed to mind him around at all, but Aunt Lucy was looking apprehensive, and Charlotte knew that seeing Saul lay a hand on the hall table had made their situation more real to her than Charlotte trying to explain it in the kitchen just now.
'I'm expecting Roger Fairley some time this afternoon,' said Saul. 'If he should turn up before I'm back would you ask him to wait?'
'Yessir,' cracked Charlotte, and he grinned the nice grin again, and said, 'And fasten that button before he gets here. He's a married man with two children, you wouldn't want to upset that.'
She buttoned up hastily. 'I think I'll change,' she said.
'You can't trust anything these days. Hand wash, it said, and see what happens!'
He laughed and went out laughing and Aunt Lucy sighed, 'I don't know what to make of him, I can't make him out.'
'I don't suppose there are many who can,' murmured Charlotte.
'And who's Roger Fairley?'
'The new manager at Dunscombes.' Aunt Lucy gave a little wail of protest and went back into the kitchen shaking her head.
Roger Fairley should know Saul Laurenson better than most, and if Charlotte got the chance she would have a talk with him while he was waiting for Saul. She changed into a high-necked shirt, with secure buttons and a thin velvet-string bow, and brushed her hair into deep shining waves, fastening it back. She was not out to look seductive, just neat and tidy and attractive, so that Roger Fairley would sit and talk, relaxed and communicative.
Maudie had been cleaning the bath when Charlotte passed the open door of the bathroom, and from her expression when she looked up Charlotte knew that she had heard the scene down in the hall. Charlotte gave a wry outsized shrug and Maudie gave a sympathetic grimace. Maudie was sympathetic, she liked the Dunscombes, father and daughter, no side on either of them. But she had been fascinated to hear that the tall dark super-looking man owned nearly everything, and him telling Charlotte that her young man wouldn't be wanting her now and talking of rape!
Terrible, it was! Maudie couldn't wait to finish her chores so that she could tell her friends and neighbours all about it.
Charlotte phoned back some of the friends who had rung while she was out, and ate a ham sandwich that Aunt Lucy thrust on her, and when she heard the car draw up she opened the front door and smiled at Roger Fairley.
He had brought his briefcase with him. He. looked the kind of young man who rarely made a move without a briefcase, dapper and sharp. She told him that Saul would be back any time; and she was afraid he would, before she had had a chance to get Mr Fairley talking. She led the way into the drawing room and offered a drink, and Mr Fairley said that coffee would be mighty welcome.
Over coffee Charlotte said, 'I'm glad the change of management went off so smoothly this morning. It was an ordeal for all of them because nobody had any idea what to expect.' She enquired how the rest of the day had gone, and listened to the plans with genuine interest, because although she and her father had done with Dunscombes she still cared about its future.
; Then she brought in Saul's name. 'Saul's good at the sweet-talk, isn't he? He was very impressive this morning.' She had meant to sound quite admiring, but perhaps she didn't, because Roger Fairley's blue eyes narrowed, although he agreed with her.
'Yes, ma'am, he can be very impressive with the sweet-talk.' Then he added, 'But if he hadn't carried them with him at that little get-together they'd have seen how tough he can be.' He helped himself to another spoonful of sugar, and stirred his coffee slowly, and Charlotte wondered if he was warning her and said bluntly, 'You don't like him?'
He wasn't going to admit disliking his employer, but she thought she had the picture until his face lit with an almost boyish enthusiasm and he said, 'Of course I like him. He wouldn't have got where he is if he hadn't been tougher than hell, but he's the best of bosses and the best of friends.'
'And the worst of enemies?' A man who had forged ahead as Saul Laurenson had must have made enemies, and must have made short work of them too, and Roger Fairley admitted it. 'I reckon so.'
'How did he get where he is?' asked Charlotte. 'All I know is that he went to Australia fifteen years ago. I didn't know him then, but I know that's how it was. And then he turns up as a tycoon. Do tell me what happened in the meantime.'
She settled herself in her chair, looking bright-eyed as a child waiting for a bedtime story. Of course Roger Fairley wasn't going to tell her anything confidential, but he was willing enough to talk; although he might have wondered why she hadn't asked Saul. Or her father, who must have known all this.
He began, 'Well, he had luck from the beginning. He bought this spread in the Australian outback, small by the standards out there, about eight hundred square miles, a cattle station on the route into Queensland. He was making a good thing of it too, but then a mining prospector found bauxite on his land.' She looked blank and he explained, 'The ore that makes aluminium. It was a rich deposit, millions of tons. It got him a seat on the board of Arras Alloys where the big, money is, and from then on everything else that he touched prospered.'
'I wonder why,' she murmured. Some men were born lucky, but you did wonder what kind of chemistry made the winners.
Roger Fairley grinned.
'He's a human dynamo—never tired, and they don't come any smarter. And he's afraid of nothing. Your S.A.S. have got a motto that could have been written for him, "Who Dares Wins". I've been working for him for just over five years now and I've seen him take risks and make decisions, without hesitating, that other men would have worried about for months. And I've never known him make the wrong move.'
Obviously Roger Fairley admired Saul Laurenson, and while he was in full flood Charlotte slipped in a personal question. 'He's never married?'
'No. Always crowds of them around, but he says he's never met a girl he's scared of losing.' She could believe that. She asked, 'Are you bringing your wife and children over?' He was, as soon as possible, and she said that when the Fairley family arrived she would love to meet them, so he produced a wad of snapshots from his wallet.
Charlotte couldn't resist snapshots. She joined him on the sofa and he showed her his children, 'Kay and Richie, dressing the tree last Christmas,' and Pamela, his lovely willowy blonde wife. He was proud of them, and Charlotte took snap after snap from him, while he told her where each was taken, and what was going on at the time, until she began to feel that she knew quite a lot about the Fairleys.
She would have loved a peep at any photographs in Saul's wallet, but she couldn't see that coming about, and she doubted if he carried any. If he missed no one he wasn't going to bother with photographs.
He walked in on them while Roger was telling Charlotte about a barbecue party, and showing her Richie in striped apron and cook's hat. It was the last snapshot, and she handed them back with a smile and a 'Thank you,' and asked Saul if he had enjoyed his ride.
'Very much,' he said.
She could imagine him on that cattle station when he first left England. He had changed into an open-necked shirt and cord trousers, and she could imagine him looking much the same as he did now, riding for miles through the scrublands of the vast and lonely outback. Then re-turning to what kind of home? And who would be waiting there? She had never been so curious about any other man, but then his was an exceptional sort of life and he was altogether an exceptional character.
She got to her feet. 'I'll go and see to Kelly.'
'I've rubbed him down,' said Saul. 'You've got a good horse there.'
'Not for sale,' she said quickly.
'I should hope not,' he said. Roger Fairley was putting his wallet back into his jacket pocket, and picking up his briefcase, and the two men went off into the office.
The next ten days were centred on the hospital where her father was recovering from his heart attack. She visited twice daily, with the best medicine she could offer, constant reassurance that everything was in hand at home. At first it was just a case of sitting beside him, so that when he opened his eyes she was there. But soon he wanted news and then she told him snippets of gossip and passed on messages from friends, and if Saul was with her that always cheered him. He was more than content to accept Saul's offer of indefinite hospitality in what had been the family home, ready to let him buy any of the contents he fancied.
On average Saul went along with her one visit in three days. The rest of the time he was out of the house, perhaps on business, perhaps socially. He had breakfast in the breakfast room, apart from that he ate out, and Charlotte asked no questions because it was none of her business. But seeing him always did her father good. He was still nourishing the crazy notion that Saul was going to look after Charlotte for the rest of her life, and he would have to be stronger before he could accept that the only one looking out for Charlotte was Charlotte.
The nurses knew her by now. Colin Dunscombe, with his handsome looks and his gentlemanly air, was one of their favourite patients, but when Saul arrived with Charlotte even the starchiest of them turned girlish and giggly. The other men in the ward looked forward to seeing Charlotte, and Saul usually walked in with a hand under her elbow.
In the beginning Charlotte had found herself edging away from his touch, but she soon got over that, and it was no act that she was grateful to him. He was keeping a roof over their heads, and seeing them both together was helping her father on his road to recovery. But the closeness was play-acting, and on the way home, a few days before he was due for discharge, she said, 'I hope we're not overdoing it. He's going to be let down if he thinks this is the future settled.'
'The immediate future is,' said Saul. 'In a month or two he'll be up to facing facts. In the meantime let him believe what he wants to believe.'
'Yes—well, thanks, I'm grateful.' She bit her lip and hoped Saul was right, as usual. 'But I think he's blotted Jeremy out. He never mentions him at all. I don't think he remembers I said I was going to marry him.'
'Does Jeremy?' said Saul, and she hunched down in her seat, turning away from him.
'Oh yes,' she said. 'No second thoughts about that. That's what we talk about all the time.'
She wasn't seeing Jeremy so much these days, she wasn't seeing much of anybody except her father, but they did meet occasionally in the afternoons, and after she had visited the hospital and he was through with the evening performance he sometimes drove over. He didn't come to the house. Charlotte didn't want him bumping into Saul, nor into Aunt Lucy, so he would park in the lane and walk across the fields to the patio, and she would stroll down there, sometimes with Tria and Wilbur. She didn't take Georgy to meet Jeremy because Georgy still yapped when Jeremy appeared. But it was warm summer weather, and with Jeremy's arms around her for a little while she could feel almost carefree again.
As soon as they said goodbye, and she walked back to the house, her troubles came to meet her. This was limbo-time. She couldn't really get down to anything until her father came out of hospital. Then she could start work, and begin living a normal if altered life. And it would all be easier wh
en Saul had left.
Sharing the house with him was a perpetual trial. The togetherness they assumed for her father's benefit didn't operate outside the hospital. There hadn't been any more big clashes, but Charlotte always felt on edge when Saul was in the same room, although he always kept his distance.
She knew that the neighbours were talking. Some of them asked her outright what the situation was, and she told them. Most of the financial details were common knowledge anyway. It was what was going on between Saul Laurenson and Charlotte that intrigued them, and the answer to that was, 'Nothing.'
Yes, he owned the firm and he was buying the house, and yes, Charlotte and her father and Aunt Lucy would still be living here, so he would be their landlord. It was a simple straightforward business arrangement. Aunt Lucy seconded that quite fiercely, more concerned for Charlotte's reputation than Charlotte was herself.
Saul was out most evenings, but sometimes he came into the drawing room where Charlotte and Aunt Lucy were sitting. Aunt Lucy was still watching his every move, presumably in case he pounced on Charlotte; and that embarrassed Charlotte as much as it obviously amused Saul. But he could make them both laugh and he could keep them both listening. They got the news from Dunscombes from him. Charlotte hadn't been back there again, although most days some member of the stall phoned to ask how her father was.
Saul told them, 'Roger's been approached by Benjy Hale, who wonders if you're going to carry on designing. He says some of your patterns were best-sellers.'
'In a small way,' said Charlotte. 'But Benjy was a fan of mine.'
'Roger wondered why he turned the colour of beetroot every time he said your name,' said Saul. 'Are you still designing?'
'No.' The break had been made for her, she couldn't go back. 'Anyway,' she said, 'I've got another job lined up.' Saul didn't argue, so he couldn't have thought much of her talents as a designer, and she picked up the book beside her and began to read and hoped it would look as though she was closing the subject.
Aunt Lucy had been watching a quiz on television. She went on watching it and Saul opened the Financial Times while Charlotte read doggedly on. Poems—she loved poetry. Usually the music of the words in her mind relaxed her, but when Saul was near there was always this tension in her spine making her concentration waver.
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