the last few months that his visits have become more regular—although there have been times when we've expected him and he's failed to arrive,' she added sharply, as though just recalling this fact.
Brett said, 'Perhaps Lisa knows him better than she cares to admit?' His voice held a question.
Lisa forced herself to give a slight shrug. 'Oh, when I worked in New Plymouth he took me out a few times—and then I went home to Auckland.' She lowered her eyes as she remembered her hasty departure from New Plymouth.
`Why did you go home?' Brett asked quietly.
`Why?' She drew a sharp breath, caught unawares by the query. 'Oh, well, I decided it was time I saw a little more of my parents,' she told him. The wide stare she sent towards the end of the table was steady, and although she was innocent of the fact the green of her jacket reflected in her eyes, making them look like ocean depths beneath cloudy skies.
He returned her gaze without speaking until he stood up abruptly and said, 'I'll see to the library fire. I presume she'll be working in there?' The last words were directed to Catherine.
`Of course—where else?' Catherine returned in a firm voice, and Lisa knew there could be no argument about it. However, Paul had only to set foot inside the room once—!
A short time later she entered the small book-lined room to find flames leaping from the pine logs in the open fireplace. Brett was still there, leaning against the mantelpiece as he stared thoughtfully at the glow. He turned to observe her as she prepared for work by placing the manuscript on the table beside a pile of papers on which she would scribble notes.
`It looks as if it'll be a mammoth job,' he remarked, frowning. 'Aren't these editing chores usually done in the publisher's office?'
`As a rule, they are,' she admitted briefly.
`Yet you were able to persuade the powers to allow you to do it here. How did you manage that particular miracle?'
Her eyes flashed as she turned to face him. 'I'm afraid I don't quite understand your meaning. There was no persuading on my part.'
His lips became compressed into a thin line until he said, 'No? I must say your show of surprise at seeing Paul was well played, but I can't help feeling you knew perfectly well he'd be here. Nor were you ignorant of the fact that he's living in the district. Isn't he the real reason you wanted to do the job here?'
The accusations made her go dumb for several moment, but at last she managed to say, 'What on earth makes you imagine anything so ludicrous?'
Brett watched her thoughtfully before he said, 'Are you sure it is ludicrous?'
`Of course it is,' she snapped furiously. 'Would you mind telling me what gives you this stupid idea?'
`I'm not sure. It's just one of those deep-down convictions. Perhaps it was your utter coolness towards him. It was as though you were being deliberately casual. I mean, if you'd been truly surprised to see him I think you'd have shown it, as well as a little more pleasure in the unexpected meeting.'
`And if the meeting did not happen to give me pleasure?'
`As you're old friends, why shouldn't it?' His eyes followed the line of her jaw to her throat. 'Were you lovers?' he demanded abruptly.
Lisa went scarlet, then snapped furiously, 'My oath, you've got a nerve! How dare you ask such a question?'
`Well, were you?' he persisted calmly.
`No, we were not!' she blazed at him. 'Nor is it your business.'
`I'll admit that's true,' he conceded. 'However,
there's the matter of his arrival last evening. During the afternoon he told Mary he wouldn't be seeing her, and then, to and behold, he turns up after all, a bundle of borrowed agricultural magazines beneath his arm. It was almost as though he'd been given the message that you'd be here.'
Lisa was incredulous. 'Surely you're not suggesting that I phoned him?'
His mouth twisted. 'Yes—unless somebody else did so.'
The dark eyes were so penetrating she almost quailed beneath their glare until curiosity made her ask, 'What makes you so sure he received a phone call? Did he say so?'
`No—but it seems logical.'
She took a deep breath to control her anger. 'In other words you're accusing me of using this place and Catherine's book as a means of enabling me to see Paul Mason?'
`It's possible, isn't it?' His eyes held accusation.
She met their disapproval steadily. 'It's possible, but most improbable. But even if it happened to be true—which it isn't—why should it worry you?'
`Because it'll hurt Mary. She appears to have fallen in love at last, and I don't want to see a spanner thrown into the works.'
Lisa gave a short laugh. 'Rest assured, I don't carry spanners, nor have I any intention of hurting Mary. Now if you'll excuse me I'd like to get to work.' She sat at the table, opened the manuscript and stared almost unseeingly at the first page.
But despite her efforts concentration eluded her. Vitally conscious of the man, she realised his resentment towards herself was a double-edged sword with enough cutting power to disturb her. Firstly, he had suspected she was being thrown at him in a matchmaking project, and secondly he was sure she had wormed her way into his household because of Paul.
In an attempt to shut these thoughts from her mind she concentrated on the manuscript's title: Mountain Memory. It was most appropriate. Previously that same mountain had had the power to bring back memories of Paul, and now he himself had returned to plague her.
She shook herself mentally, realising that he would plague her only if she allowed him to do so—and for Pete's sake, why was she facing the possibility before it had even raised its head? In doing so she was creating obstacles before they'd occurred.
Following the first few pages of closely packed narrative, she learnt of conditions in England's south and west counties during the previous century, and of the hunger and poverty which had made the people of Devon and Cornwall consider emigrating to a country on the other side of the world. The opportunity for them to take this giant step had come when a newly formed body calling itself the Plymouth Company was launched at a public meeting in Plymouth in the January of .
Lisa read several pages of details concerning its directors, then became aware that Brett was still in the room. She knew that he watched her intently and she made a determined effort to ignore him. Even so her neck felt hot as a flush began to steal upwards.
At last he spoke. 'Well, how does it read?' he drawled.
Her brows rose. 'You should know. Or haven't you read it?' she prevaricated, having no wish to tell him she found the opening to be dry and slow, the paragraphs too lengthy.
`I've glanced at it,' he admitted. 'Perhaps I've heard too much about it over too long a period. Anyhow, it's not my cup of tea.'
`You were bored?' she asked quietly. `Indescribably.'
`Then we'll have to see what we can do to raise and
hold your interest,' she replied, keeping her voice even.
He gave a sardonic laugh. 'You'll have to work damned hard to do that!' Then, surprisingly, his tone change to a softer note as he added, 'By raising my interest you wouldn't be referring to something other than the book, by any chance?'
She turned and met the long penetrating stare from the dark eyes. 'Whatever can you be going on about, Mr Arlington? As far as the book is concerned I can only do my best.'
Her eyes returned to where several pages described the many attractions of the new land. There would be no winter as they knew it, the prospective emigrants were promised. The fertility of the soil was such that crops would spring up from the ground almost before the planters had turned their backs—indeed, it would be almost necessary to jump out of the way.
Lisa laughed as she read the last few lines.
`Don't tell me you've struck a patch of humour in it,' Brett remarked ironically. 'Humour was never Catherine's forte.'
She sat back and looked at him. 'Are you always sarcastic about the efforts other people make, or is it just that you're annoyed because I'm here?'
&nbs
p; `Of course I appreciate effort,' he snapped, then lapsed into a moody silence.
`Then you must be irritated because I'm here,' she accused, looking at him unflinchingly as she awaited his denial.
But it did not come, and he merely glowered at her for several moments before leaving the library.
She returned to the manuscript, acutely conscious that for some reason the room had taken on a feeling of emptiness. He had disturbed her while he had been in the room, surely he couldn't disturb her while he was out of it?
The next person to break into her reading was
Mary, who brought in coffee at mid-morning. 'Aren't you bored with all that old stuff about the early settlers?' she asked, nodding towards the manuscript. `I tried to read it, but I'll admit I'd rather have a romance any day.' She placed the tray on the table. `Anyhow, Brett says you're allowed to work this morning, but not this afternoon.'
Lisa sat back and sipped the steaming beverage. `Brett says? He intends to dictate my hours?'
`It's Saturday. He says you don't normally go to the office on Saturday, so you'll be coming with us to the rugby match in Hawera. We'll be leaving after lunch.'
`I'm afraid I'm not really a rugby fan,' Lisa demurred.
`But Brett says it's all arranged, so you'll be coming with us.'
Lisa bristled inwardly. 'Am I to take it that Brett arranges the activities of everyone in this house?
`No, but he says it's all fixed. He phoned Paul and we're to meet him near the entrance gates.'
`Paul? He'll be with us?' Lisa's heart sank.
Mary nodded, her soft brown eyes widening a little apprehensively as she looked at Lisa. 'You'd—you'd like Paul to be there, wouldn't you?' Her tone was anxious.
`Not particularly. Why should I want him to be there?'
`Because—well, I just thought
`Yes? You just thought what?' Lisa demanded. `Didn't you come here because you knew he'd be next door?'
`Definitely not. Is that what Brett told you?' she asked sharply. `If so, he's entirely mistaken.'
'He—he said he was wondering about it.'
`Then he can stop wondering—and the sooner the better! Please believe me, Mary. I want you to understand that I had no idea Paul would be living in
the vicinity of this place, for the simple reason I've had no communication with him for three years.'
Mary's spirits appeared to lift as a flush stole into her cheeks. 'You really haven't? I do want to believe you.'
`Then let me assure you I haven't spoken to him since I left New Plymouth and went home to Auckland. I'll admit he wrote a couple of letters which I refused to answer—and I also recall he once told me he had an uncle who was farming towards the south of Taranaki, but the exact locality of the property was never mentioned. So if you're enjoying a special friendship with Paul you have nothing to fear from me.'
Mary's flush deepened. 'I'm—I'm so very glad,' she said quietly. `To be honest I—I was afraid.'
Lisa looked at her searchingly. 'I know it's not my business, but—is there a definite commitment between you and Paul Mason?'
Mary's eyes clouded a little as she shook her head. `No, not yet, but I'm hoping there'll be one quite soon.'
Lisa was filled with compassion as she grasped the situation. Dear Heaven, she thought, where Paul was concerned Mary was in the same position as she herself had been, but what could she say or do about a situation which, after all, was neither her problem nor her business? As she pondered the question the old proverb about a still tongue making a wise head leapt into her mind, yet at the same time she had a strong conviction that she should say something. It was only fair that Mary should be warned that Paul was not the most reliable man in the world. Or had he changed? She doubted it.
'Brett and Paul are close friends?' she asked,
watching Mary from across the top of her coffee mug.
`Oh no, Brett has very little contact with Paul
because every minute of his spare time is spent on the
mountain. Also, as Paul has been our neighbour for such a short time Brett hardly knows him.'
`Are you saying that Brett hasn't bothered to become friendly with Paul?'
Mary hesitated, then admitted reluctantly. 'When they first met Brett didn't like him at all, but I've tried to persuade him to try to like him—for my sake.'
`Do you think you've succeeded?'
Mary sighed. 'I don't know. We've been to a few rugby matches together, but I'm afraid Brett doesn't really like Paul's attitude. He becomes so excited when the local team is winning, and so mad with rage when they're losing. His attitude doesn't annoy me—it just makes me laugh.'
Lisa gave a small shrug. 'It won't matter to me if he dances on the grandstand roof with his hair on fire—I won't be there to see it. I couldn't care less about rugby matches, and what's more I intend to stay home and get on with the job of reading this manuscript.'
Brett's deep voice came from the doorway. 'Is that a fact? Nevertheless you'll put on warm clothing and come out for some fresh air.' The log he threw on the fire sent the flames leaping. 'There now, that should last until lunchtime when I'll rebuild it because Catherine has decided to write letters this afternoon. I've told her you're coming to the football with us.'
Lisa faced him squarely, conscious of the quiet determination behind his words. 'Are you insisting that I come against my will?'
`You can put it that way if you like,' he drawled. `Mary usually wears a warm track-suit. Do you happen to possess such a garment? If not I'm sure she'll have a spare one to lend you.'
`I have my own track-suit, thank you,' she found herself saying, knowing that despite her claim of preference to remain in the library she would be with them at the match.
After lunch she took it from her case and as she
pulled up the front zip of the jacket the royal blue colour turned her eyes to deepest delphinium. Mary wore a similar garment in tan, and both girls added matching caps and gloves. By that time Lisa was aware of an inner excitement she found difficult to suppress, but not even to herself would she admit that it had anything to do with the fact that she was going out with Brett Arlington.
When his silver-grey Holden drew up at the door she moved to take a seat at the back, but he forestalled her by opening the door to the front passenger seat, indicating that she should sit beside him. She turned apologetically to Mary, fearing she was usurping her place, but the suggestion was waved aside.
`It's obvious Brett wants you in front with him,' said Mary as she climbed into the QV( seat. 'I wouldn't dare argue about it.'
As the car cruised along the undulating road towards Eltham Lisa tried to relax, but found herself becoming increasingly aware of the man sitting beside her. In an effort to drag her mind away from him she gazed through the windows and concentrated upon the scenery. Behind them the mountain rose in majesty like a wide inverted cone, the snows on its peak not yet down to the bushline.
Closer at hand and on either side of the road, the land was divided by prickly hedgerows of light green boxthorn, the low shelterbelts being so typical of the Taranaki landscape. Some of the fields were grazed by sheep, others by herds of Jersey or black and white Holstein milking cows.
Eltham was approached, and as they drove through its short main street Brett remarked casually, 'I suppose Paul has told you that this small town is famous for its cheese-making?'
Lisa turned to look at his profile, noting the straight nose and chiselled mouth. 'I don't recall Paul being particularly interested in cheese,' she remarked lightly.
`However, almost every Taranaki schoolgirl knows that Eltham is famous for its tasty blue-veined variety.'
He frowned as he stared straight ahead. 'Are you saying Paul hasn't told you about his interests in the manufacture and exporting of butter and cheese?'
`Good heavens, no. Why should he tell me these things? Three years ago he wasn't even remotely interested in such commodities—apart from eating them, of cou
rse.'
`Strange. Very strange.' Brett's tone held a note of disbelief.
Lisa looked at him wonderingly, then decided to be frank. 'I have a strong feeling you're trying to trap me into an admission of some sort.'
`Oh—?' His tone was noncommittal.
Irritated, she went on, 'You appear to imagine I've been in constant touch with him. I've told you, it's three years since I last saw him in New Plymouth.'
`And letters haven't passed between you?' He glanced at her mockingly, then turned again to the road ahead.
`No, they have not!' she snapped angrily.
He gave a short laugh before remarking dryly, 'In any case I doubt that dairy products would hold first priority as the subject of letters. I'm sure they'd be much more personal.'
`Why are you so determined to link me with Paul Mason?' she demanded furiously, a flush staining her cheeks. 'You're being insufferable about something that's not your business. Is this why you insisted I sat in front with you—so that you could cross-examine me?'
`I'm just assessing the situation,' he returned easily.
`The situation—what on earth are you talking about?' She fell silent as sudden enlightenment dawned upon her. Any emotional situation between Paul and herself would naturally affect the romance
budding between Paul and Mary—and, as she had already guessed, herein lay one of the reasons for Brett's underlying resentment towards herself.
So far he had not admitted to it openly, but she could sense it was there, and the knowledge niggled until it hurt like a nagging ache. Nor did she enquire too closely as to why this should be. Brett had done nothing to endear himself or offer any charm towards her—quite the opposite, in fact—yet she felt drawn towards him. She was being a fool, she told herself sharply.
The silence between them became strained until Mary spoke to Lisa from the back seat. 'Has Brett told you about Chew Chong?' she asked.
Lisa grasped at the change of subject. 'No. Who is Chew Chong?'
`He was a Chinese merchant who traded in Eltham during the early settlement days.'
`She'll read about him in Catherine's book,' Brett pointed out.
`Tell me about him,' urged Lisa, anxious to avoid another long silence in the car.
Call of the Mountain Page 3
