With the exception of Tuesdays she was usually paid a short visit by Gwen Yates who came in to dust the library. Short and plump, Gwen was quick and capable, and as she cleaned the glass of the French door she said, 'The garden beside this veranda is beautiful in the spring. You'll love it when the tulips are out.'
Lisa smiled, 'I doubt that I'll be here in the spring.' Gwen's round face registered surprise. 'You won't? I thought you'd come to stay.'
`Only until this job is completed.'
`Well, blow me down! I thought you and Mr Arlington—' Her voice trailed off as she fell silent.
Lisa sat back and looked at her. 'What about Mr Arlington and me, Gwen?'
Gwen swallowed, then mumbled, 'Nothing—nothing at all. It was just something I thought Mrs Arlington said. Maybe I was mistaken.'
`Lots of people make mistakes, Gwen, one of the most foolish being to indulge in wishful thinking. It gets one nowhere.' Lisa sighed as she bent her head over the papers on the table.
The days continued to pass, with little communication between Brett and herself. Nor was this unsociable attitude any different from his demeanour during the evenings, when he watched television for only a short time before disappearing from the lounge.
Catherine made excuses for him. 'Brett has never allowed himself to become enslaved by the goggle-box. He likes to read in the evenings, so if you want him you'll find him in the library. If he's not reading he'll be attending to his farm accounts.'
Lisa felt a sense of relief. At least it wasn't her own presence that was driving him from the room, as she'd begun to fear.
The following Tuesday Brett happened to be making one of his rare lunchtime appearances when Catherine turned to Lisa and said,
`I'm going to the Eltham Country Women's Institute meeting at two o'clock. It's a special afternoon, with a display of wool work put on by a spinning and weaving group from Hawera. Would you like to take time off to come and see it?'
Lisa shook her head. 'No, thank you—I wouldn't be taking the afternoon off in Auckland, so I shan't do it here.'
Brett glanced at his sister, then spoke to Catherine. `Is Mary going with you? She should be mixing with more people.'
Catherine gave a slight shrug. 'I've asked her to come, but she isn't keen.' The look she sent him said more than her words.
Brett turned to Mary. 'Why not? You might be interested in learning to do some of this wool work.'
Mary's expression was sullen. 'Couldn't you hear? As Catherine has already told you, I'm not keen.'
`At least the outing would do you good,' he persisted. 'It might help to shake off that morose attitude I've noticed recently. It's been sitting on your shoulders like a cloak of doom.'
Mary's only reply was to leave the table with what sounded suspiciously like a stifled sob.
`What the hell's the matter with her?' Brett demanded crossly.
`I'm afraid it must be Paul,' Catherine admitted reluctantly. 'I don't think she's seen very much of him recently.'
`But I understand there are plans in the air,' he pursued.
Catherine shook her head, then whispered, 'If there are she's being very cagey about them. I've certainly been told nothing, so perhaps they've collapsed. I hope he's not building false hopes.'
`All the more reason for her to become interested in a hobby of some sort,' Brett growled. 'See if you can persuade her to go to the Institute with you. I think it's important.'
Catherine did her best, and Mary eventually agreed to accompany her to the meeting—and as Gwen did not go to the homestead on Tuesdays Lisa found herself alone in the house. For a short time she became conscious of the country silence, broken only by the occasional bellow from a cow or bleat of a sheep, but by the middle of the afternoon she was working steadily, her mind busy with paragraphs that needed re-wording to give the same information in less space.
Sun filtered into the room where the only sounds came from the rustling of paper, the ticking of the clock or the movement of a log flaring in the fireplace. And then the sound of a step on the veranda caught her ear.
She paused, pen in hand, but did not look round. So Brett had at last seen fit to come and talk to her. In that case he needn't expect a show of delighted surprise on her part. She heard a tap on the glass, the turning of the door handle, and only then did she turn round. But it wasn't Brett who stepped into the room—it was Paul Mason.
Lisa glared at him in blank dismay, then demanded angrily, 'What are you doing here? You've no right to walk in uninvited!'
`Who cares about rights?' he grinned. 'I knocked on the back door in case Gwen Yates was here, but there was no reply. Anyhow, I guessed you were alone because I saw Catherine and Mary in Eltham.' His light blue eyes glanced towards the garden. 'Where's Brett?'
`I've no idea,' she snapped, then immediately regretted the words, wishing she'd said that Brett was somewhere close at hand.
`He's probably away to hell at the back of the farm, or climbing old Egmont,' Paul surmised knowingly. 'I doubt that he'll disturb us while we have a talk. It's about time we got things clear.'
`What do you mean? There's nothing to get clear.'
`Don't fool yourself, Lisa. I want to know why the devil you ran out on me and why you didn't bother to answer my letters. Even when I tried to phone you hung up on me.'
`Don't bother to lie, Paul. You know exactly why I wanted a clean break between us. The last time I spoke to you I explained that Maggie Simpson's face would always come between us. Surely that was clear enough.'
`But I loved you
She shook her head. 'You didn't love me at all. I was merely a challenge, someone you were aiming to get to bed.'
`I was sure you loved me,' he persisted.
`I thought so too, until I lost all respect for you. By the way, how is Maggie? And the little boy? Where are they?'
His face twisted with anger. 'That stupid, simpering, whining twit
`Yes, that same Maggie whom you betrayed and left to fend for herself, to go through the trauma of giving
birth to your son, and who now bears the burden of bringing him up.' Lisa discovered she was shaking with anger.
`Dammit, I pay maintenance for him,' he snarled defensively.
`I should damned well think you would!' she retorted heatedly. 'Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get on with my work, so goodbye.' She turned again to the papers on the table.
Paul gave a short laugh. `If you think you can give me the brush-off as easily as that, you can think again!'
She looked at him earnestly. 'You're making a mistake, Paul. Apart from the odd polite remark I don't want to have anything to do with you. Surely that's plain enough?'
`Not to me, it isn't.' His face had become mutinous.
She was puzzled. 'What do you mean?' Then, exasperated, she indicated the pages of manuscript. `Look at all this—I've a big job on hand and I'd be grateful if you'd let me get on with it. So will you please leave?'
`Can't you see? That's the whole point. The fact that you've come here to do this job can't be a mere fluke. Even I, with my lack of knowledge about the publishing world, can guess that a job such as this would normally be done in the office. You evidently knew I was living next door, even if it's several fields away.'
Lisa looked at him in silence. Dear God, she thought, his mind is following the same trend as Brett's! 'Are you suggesting I came here because of you?' she asked at last.
`Of course you did. It's obvious. I knew it at once.'
`You're entirely mistaken,' she snapped angrily. `The circumstances surrounding this book are different from others, nor do I intend explaining them to you. And let me assure you it was Catherine who arranged
for me to do the job here. If I'd known you were living so close I wouldn't have set foot near the place.'
`Come on, Lisa, you can't fool me. You're playing a little game of being hard to get.'
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at him thoughtfully. 'You'd like us to tak
e up where we left off, huh?'
He grinned. 'Now you're talking sense!'
`Have you forgotten Mary? What about her?' Her blue eyes were accusing as she awaited his answer.
`Mary?' he shrugged. 'I've no commitment with Mary in any way.'
`I understand that you have plans for the future.'
His sandy brows drew together. 'Plans? What are
you talking about? What plans did she mention?'
`Don't try and dodge the issue. I'm talking about the plans you have with Mary.' Curiosity made her prevaricate. 'I'd have to hear about them from you before I'd—er—consider anything.'
His face cleared. 'Oh, those plans. They're nothing. You can forget about them.'
`I don't think Mary's forgotten about them. When they were first made they were important enough to send her over the moon.'
`They were really all her ideas, not my idea at all
`I'm listening,' Lisa encouraged.
`Very well. It was after I'd had Sunday night's tea here when I spoke of finding a job in Auckland. Do you remember?'
She nodded, then said, 'You'd like one with an accountant on the North Shore. You want to be close to the boating and swimming?'
He looked at her meaningfully. 'That's only one of the reasons. Well, Mary tackled me about it next day, wanting to know where I'd live. I told her I'd find a flat somewhere, then added jokingly that I'd have to find a good cook, someone who could make a nice fish
pie. I'm afraid she jumped to the conclusion that I meant her, and she took it as an invitation to move in with me.'
Lisa was appalled. 'Brett would never allow it! He'd have your kidneys for breakfast—your guts for garters!'
`You're forgetting she's an adult and can please herself,' Paul pointed out coldly.
`And for how long would she continue to please you?' Lisa queried shrewdly. 'You and your reputation?'
He shrugged. 'I don't know. Frankly, she can be a bit of a bore. She's not like you—vivid and alive.'
She ignored the compliment. 'Then you're not contemplating marriage with Mary?'
He was shocked. 'Marriage? Hell, no—who said anything about marriage? Would I be wanting you back if I were?'
`I suppose not. Well, this has been most interesting. Now will you please go? This is the third time of asking.'
`Okay, so you'll come out with me tonight?'
`Not tonight, nor any other night. Goodbye, Paul.' `What the hell—I thought we were getting along
nicely.'
`Did you indeed? Then you'll have to learn to think much more clearly.' She turned away from him and again bent over her work.
Paul's eyes glittered with anger as he stepped closer to sweep the papers across the table, grab her arm and jerk her to her feet. Twisting her round to face him, he gritted, 'Then you're saying it really is finished between us?'
`Finished! For heaven's sake, Paul, it finished three years ago. You're mighty slow to grasp the situation.'
`Slow, am I? I'm not too slow for this ' His arms snatched her to him, holding her in a firm grip. 'At least you'll kiss me again. I reckon I can arouse you
`Go to hell!' she shrieked in fury, struggling against his strength. 'No, I won't kiss you—get your hands off me!'
His grip held her firmly. 'Surely you'll kiss me goodbye in a civilised manner?'
She became still. 'Only if you really mean goodbye.' It would be worth it to be rid of him, she decided.
`Yes, I mean it. After this I'll never bother you again.'
`You promise—faithfully?'
`I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.'
`And no more of your subtle remarks calculated to make Mary jealous,' she persisted. 'They not only make her jealous, they also hurt her deeply.'
Paul's grin was satanic. 'She could do with a bit of stirring up!'
`You evidently get pleasure out of hurting people, Paul,' Lisa said coldly. 'Does it feed your ego, or does it give you a sense of power?'
`A little of both, I think,' he admitted blatantly. She felt disgusted. 'Can we get this stupidity over?' she snapped. 'Then you can go.'
She raised her face, but his kiss left her cold. The touch of his lips no longer had the power to stir her blood and she found it impossible to respond in any way. It was also impossible to understand why she had thought she had been in love with him three years ago, and she could only put it down to immaturity.
`You've become cold,' he accused as he released her.
`To you, I have—so now you know. And if you dare to break your promise to me I'll tell Mary about Maggie Simpson.' She looked at him reproachfully. 'I don't suppose you ever bother to see how she's faring.'
`She's all right,' he muttered sulkily. 'She's working in a waterfront motel where everyone she meets soon learns that the father of her boy is named Paul Mason. She's even had the temerity to have the boy baptised Paul Mason Simpson.'
`Poor Maggie,' Lisa said softly.
His mouth twisted slightly as he looked at her in silence for several moments while she prayed he would leave. But at last he said, 'I'll let myself out through the back door. My car's in the yard.'
She listened as the sound of his heavy footsteps faded along the passage, then knew an immense relief as she heard the slam of the back door. Would he keep his promise to leave her alone? She could only hope so.
Feeling suddenly relaxed, she bent over the table to straighten the papers he had swept into disorderly array, and as she began to stack them a sound came from behind her. She turned to face Brett, who had come in by the French doors, his face grim with accusation.
He watched in silence as she continued to straighten the papers, and when he spoke his voice was heavy with sarcasm. 'I see you've had a visitor. Interrupted your work, did he?'
The derision in his voice filled her with an inward horror. Had he just arrived or had he witnessed—? Yes, of course he had. From the look of condemnation on his face it seemed obvious he had spent several minutes on the veranda—watching her being kissed by Paul.
CHAPTER SIX
THE knowledge that Brett had observed Paul embracing her filled Lisa with dismay, but she made a determined effort to treat the matter casually and as if it were of no consequence.
`Yes, Paul was here,' she admitted lightly. 'No doubt you saw him leaving?' There was a tremor of hope in the question. Perhaps, after all, Brett had merely seen him driving away.
But Brett's next words dashed this spark of optimism. Not exactly. I was crossing the lawn on my way to see you when I realised he was in here, so I waited until he'd gone. I must say the last few minutes were most touching, to say nothing of being revealing.' His lip curled with derision.
`Then you'll have heard what was said?' She was still hopeful.
`No. The door was closed, but I could see into the room, and let me tell you that watching was more than enough without hearing all your endearments as well,' he gritted.
`That's a pity,' she said quietly. 'You might have learnt enough to clear your mind.'
`I can assure you there was no need to hear a word,' he retorted coldly. 'The view from the veranda was sufficient. I must say you had me well and truly fooled, Lisa.'
She recoiled from the disgust on his face. 'Fooled? What—what do you mean?'
`Can't you work it out for yourself? he snarled. `You've been adamant in your assertion that your affair with Paul ended three years ago, and that you had no idea he was our neighbour—yet I find you in
his arms. I presume you rang and told him you'd be alone this afternoon.'
`Wrong. Your presumption, as well as the rest of your conclusions, are way off base.'
`Do you expect me to believe that? With Catherine and Mary nicely out of the house, and Gwen not here on Tuesdays, it was a golden opportunity to see him alone. Why did you have to go about it in such a sneaky manner?' His voice rang with scorn.
`Sneaky! How dare you apply that term to me!' Lisa's face had paled. Her temper bubbled, but she fo
ught to keep it under control, although she knew she was beginning to shake.
`Why can't you be honest and admit you phoned him?' Brett hammered at her in a fury.
`Because I didn't, that's why!' she shouted.
`A liar as well!' he lashed at her, his disgust obvious.
Her chin rose and her tone grew icy as she took a grip on herself. 'Would you please allow me to get on with this job? I'm longing to get it finished so that I can get to hell out of your house. That day can't come soon enough for me!'
`A fact I can well believe, now that Paul has ideas of finding a job of some sort on the North Shore,' he sneered.
`Believe what you like,' Lisa snapped furiously as she turned away and sat at the table, her heart heavy with depression.
But even after Brett had left the room she found concentration almost impossible. A sneak and a liar, he'd called her. The words were still ringing in her ears. Tears sprang to her eyes and were dashed away angrily. Why on earth was she allowing him to get under her skin in this manner) Why should she care what he thought of her?
Yet she knew she did care—deeply. Nor could she tolerate the knowledge that he regarded her as a sneak and a liar. It sent a horrible pain coursing through her
entire being, and again the pages became blurred as the tears welled into her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
Frustrated by the uncontrolled tumult raging in her mind, she felt a sudden urge for fresh air, so, laying down her pen, she went out through the French doors and began to walk about the garden. Marigolds and chrysanthemums were still making a brave show of gold and bronze, but she hardly saw them, and even the late afternoon sun turning the liquid-ambered autumn leaves to a brilliant maze of scarlet, crimson and yellow failed to attract her attention.
Standing beneath the colourful tree, she gazed towards the high mountain 'What's the matter with me, Taranaki?' she whispered, with none but herself to hear. 'I should be loathing him, but I'm not. I should be packing up right now and hurrying home to Auckland to finish the job in the office, yet in all honesty, I can't bear to leave this place. When I leave Lynton I'll never see him again—I'll never see him again. Why should it hurt so much? Can you tell me that, Taranaki? Surely I'm not in love with him. Or am I?'
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