The Trouble with Trent!

by Jessica Steele

  The easiest of her problems, in what was a busy day, was having to disrupt the smooth running of the office by changing her lunch hour. It's a business matter,' she explained to Carol.

  `You're not going for an interview for another job, are you?' Carol asked quickly, flatteringly, and plainly not caring for the idea.

  `Nothing at all like that,' Alethea promised.

  `In that case, change your lunch hour with my blessing,' Carol smiled. 'If it's anything I can help with?' she offered. 'You were looking worried earlier.'

  `No, it's all right. Nothing I can't cope with,' Alethea assured her cheerfully—oh, that it was so simple!

  Work went on at its usual speedy rate while the hands on her watch alternately crawled and galloped. There was a brief respite around eleven, when Ralph King from Marketing came in with a fair-haired man in his late twenties and introduced him as one of their new executives.

  Both Alethea and Carol shook hands with Nick Saunders, but it was to Alethea he looked when he remarked, 'I'm sure I'm going to be very happy here.'

  `Another one bites the dust,' Carol teased when the two men had gone. 'But I don't suppose you'll go out with him either,' she added, referring to the fact that, though she had many offers, Alethea made a policy of never dating anyone from work.

  `He won't ask,' Alethea answered lightly.

  `Ten pounds!' Carol jokingly laid the bet, and they both laughed, and got on with some work.

  Inside a minute Alethea had forgotten all about Nick Saunders. Though it could not be said that she was concentrating all her thoughts on the work in front of her. Just in case Trent was early she'd start to get ready around eleven-thirty.

  Alethea was at the park gates at eleven-fifty, her insides jumbled by barely controlled panic as she rehearsed and rehearsed what she had to say in the least ghastly way.

  Her panic was in no way helped when twelve o'clock came and went with no sign of Trent. Nor was he there at one minute past twelve or two minutes past twelve. She knew, because she could not stop checking her watch.

  At five minutes past twelve, a limousine drew up. Trent got out and Alethea's heart went into overdrive. She wrestled with her nerves as Trent, in his immaculate dark

  business suit, crisp shirt and silk tie, and looking every tall inch of what he was—a most successful businessman—instructed his chauffeur to wait.

  He spotted Alethea at once and came striding over. He greeted her and, barely pausing in his stride, a man brimful of energy, placed a hand beneath her elbow and escorted her inside the park to a nearby bench. He waited until they were both seated, then turned to look at her; the floor was all hers!

  `Thank you for agreeing to see me,' she opened, her rehearsed speech forgotten as dark, all-seeing eyes scrutinised her.

  `What can I do for you?' he helped her out.

  Oh, Heavens, this was dreadful. Every bit as dreadful as she had imagined it would be. 'The thing is ...' She paused and coughed to clear a suddenly dry throat. 'The thing is ...' she began again.

  `The thing is?' Trent was there again to help her out. Or maybe, several minutes having already gone, he was impatient for her to spell out her difficulties so that he could get to his appointment. 'You have a personal business problem you want my help with, but don't know where to begin?' He stated the case most aptly, though why that should niggle her she didn't know. But it did. `Why not start at the beginning?' he suggested logically.

  Had he got that long? The idea made Alethea strive harder to get her words said. If she didn't buck her ideas up, his patience would be at an end and he would be gone. Thoughts of going home and seeing Maxine that evening with nothing accomplished spurred her on.

  `Well, to begin with, it's more to do with my sister and the—er —predicament she's in than me.'

  `Interesting,' he observed.

  She forced herself to go on. 'Apparently her husband..:

  `Is she still separated from him?'

  `There's little likelihood of a reconciliation,' Alethea stated.

  `Go on,' Trent instructed, when she came to a full stop again.

  Alethea coughed nervously, and revealed in a rush, `Keith—Maxine's husband—works for you. Or did.' `Did?'

  `He—er—must have worked in some section that deals with money. It ...' Oh, Lord, 'It seems he may have borrowed some.'

  Trent de Havilland, as she already knew, was nobody's fool. His look was uncompromising when he stated, more than asked, 'With no intention of paying it back.'

  `He's put their house up for sale and means to repay the money,' Alethea said quickly. 'But until it's sold Maxine doesn't have any money either.' Not pausing for breath, and having got started, she rushed on, 'But, worse than that, Maxine can't bear the thought of the stigma for her daughters if Keith goes to prison—as she believes he certainly will.'

  `We're prosecuting?' Trent asked; as she had suspected, he had managers who dealt with that sort of thing, without bothering him with the details.

  `Yes. Keith was suspended initially, but ...'

  `The case against him must be indisputable,' Trent interrupted. She had realised that for herself, and nodded, not feeling any better. Trent looked at her for long moments, his expression stern. 'You knew all of this when you went out with me last Tuesday?' he asked shortly.

  `No!' she promptly denied. 'I knew Keith worked at some place called SEC and that he'd been suspended. But I'd no idea then that you were anything to do with the company, or its chairman. I would never have gone out with you had I known!'

  Trent made a sound which gave Alethea not the slightest clue as to how he had taken her answer. But he was as shrewd as ever when, in the same stern tone, he questioned, 'But you knew on Saturday when you came to my home?'

  `Yes,' she had to confess. 'But you had invited me ...'

  `That,' he returned shortly, 'had little to do with why you came. The only reason for your arriving at my door was your brother-in-law.'

  `Yes,' she agreed miserably, and found herself confessing, `I'd made up my mind not to see you again—which I think you knew. Oh, I realised you weren't bothered about that,' she rushed on quickly, feeling a little pink about the cheeks. 'That much was obvious, when you suggested I bring a boyfriend along. Anyhow ...' She sensed she was going off at a tangent, and made herself slow down. 'Anyway, Maxine knew about your invitation, and after Keith had called on Saturday afternoon, to tell her that SEC had decided to prosecute, she begged me—and I was most reluctant, honestly—to come and see you.'

  `To accept my invitation?'

  `We thought I might be able to have a quiet word with you,' she admitted, not feeling one whit better for doing so. Who said confession was good for the soul? 'Only..?

  `Only—my other guests were fog-bound in Paris but, when you had ample opportunity to plead your brother-in-law's case, you did not.'

  `You kissed me!' Alethea blurted out. She went scarlet and stood up. 'You confuse me!' she exclaimed agitatedly, turning her back on him. He rose to his feet too. Because she had solved nothing, she felt forced to turn around again. 'Will you?' she asked.

  `Will I what?'

  Damn him, he knew what she was asking! But she forced herself to go on. 'Will you consider not prosecuting Keith Lawrence?' she asked.

  Trent's answer was to stare down into her unhappy violet eyes. Several seconds elapsed. 'I'll look into it,' was the most he would promise. 'I'll be in touch,' he added and, to her astonishment, he bent down, placed a light kiss on her cheek, straightened and strode briskly away.

  Alethea stared after him, her left hand going to her left cheek. There had been no time for her to react, object, move away or do anything. Why, though, had he kissed her cheek in—friendly—farewell? She went and had a cup of coffee.

  Alethea had given up trying to fathom why Trent de Havilland did what he did when she went back to her office. She was fairly positive she had been pleading a lost cause when she had asked him to intervene in her brother-in-law's prosecution. But had s
he? That kiss to her cheek, light though it had been, made her hope.

  Trent had said he would look into it and would be in touch. How soon? Would he ring her at the office? He must know, surely, how anxious she was to hear his decision.

  She was jumpy all that afternoon. Each time the phone on her desk rang her mouth went dry, but it was never Trent. She stayed at the office a little after five, rather than miss his call if it came through.

  He did not ring. Alethea drove home realising that he had probably been much too busy that day to find time to investigate the details of the case.

  `Well, did you find somewhere?' her mother asked her acidly, when she arrived home.

  `Find...' Alethea began, her thoughts so taken up with the lack of news she had to pass to her sister that she did not at once understand the question.

  `You said you were leaving,' her young niece, Sadie, piped up.

  It was no wonder to Alethea that she had forgotten her intention to start looking for somewhere else to live that day. 'Not yet,' she answered her mother pleasantly. `I'll go up and change.'

  Sadie had been into her room and deposited several of her dolls on her bed, Alethea noted as she changed into jeans and a white shirt. By the look of it, the little love couldn't wait for Alethea to be gone so she could take full possession of her room.

  Alethea was about to go downstairs, ready to give a hand with dinner or children, whichever was the greater priority, when Maxine, with Polly on her hip, took the chance to have a private word.

  `Was it lunch?' she asked. This time Alethea understood the question at once.

  `He's going to get in touch as soon as he's found out more about it,' was the best Alethea could tell her. `But you did ask him?'

  `Oh, yes.' Alethea wished she could be more encouraging, but dared not, lest Maxine was in for crushing disappointment.

  `How did he seem to t ...?' Her voice tailed off when their mother called up the stairs that Georgia was fighting with Sadie. 'Are you certain you want to settle for a

  career?' Maxine asked whimsically, and somehow both of them managed to find a smile.

  It had been one of those days, apparently, and dinner was a scratch of a meal. None of the girls wanted to go to bed but, with bribery, corruption and, in the end, extreme crossness, Maxine at last got Sadie and Georgia up the stairs.

  Her sister was still upstairs, reading the girls a story, Alethea realised, as she walked the floor downstairs with a pyjama-clad Polly. She was singing softly to the tot, when someone rang the doorbell.

  Alethea glanced towards her mother, but saw she was not prepared to take over Polly while she went to answer the door, so Alethea took the little girl with her.

  Her guess was that it was someone collecting jumble for the scouts. She pulled back the door, expecting to look downwards to some youngster, and found she had to look up.

  `Trent!' she exclaimed, and felt instantly confused. She hadn't been expecting him to call—hadn't so much as given that possibility a thought. Oh, grief, her white shirt bore liberal traces of Polly's chocolate pudding—after a hurried wipe with a wet cloth; that had been a mistake!

  `Hello, cherub,' Trent answered, and she knew he was talking to Polly, who beamed at him in pure delight.

  `You've put her in a good mood. She's been a monster for most of the evening.'

  `It's an effect I have on women,' he replied easily. `Coming for a drive?' he asked.

  This was it! Alethea was worried. Why did she have to go for a drive? Was it bad news? How could it be good? If it was good news, surely he would have said by now, or even have picked up the phone.

  `Y-yes,' she replied nervously, realising that, whatever news he had, he did not want to discuss it over the phone. `Er—I'll have to change my shirt. Will you come in?' she invited belatedly.

  `I'll wait in the car,' he said decisively, and she stared at him.

  `You're frightened of my mother!' She heard herself accuse him, and couldn't help but wonder what it was about him that sent her brains scattering. What a crass thing to have said!

  But Trent didn't seem to think her remark crass. In fact, the corners of his mouth tugged up pleasantly at the corners. 'Terrified,' he agreed, and walked away to his car.

  Alethea found she was smiling as she closed the door. Abruptly she sobered. This wasn't funny. Knowing that if she did not want to suffer a third degree it would be better to hand Polly over to Maxine rather than ask her mother, Alethea went upstairs.

  She found Maxine just closing the door on the girls' room. `Trent's here. He wants to take me for a drive,' she explained in an undertone.

  Maxine caught on at once. 'Here, give Polly to me,' she said, taking the two-year-old from her sister.

  Alethea was aware that 'a drive' was another phrase for what was about to take place. Clearly Trent had investigated but did not want to tell her his conclusions in her home. With Georgia and Sadie creating the last time he'd called, the house had probably sounded like Bedlam.

  After quickly changing into a fresh shirt—they were most likely only going to sit in his car around the corner—Alethea washed her hands and ran a comb through her hair, and strove for calm.

  She went back down the stairs realising that she should thank him because he had been so quick in getting back to her. But there was also every chance that she would have nothing to thank him for at the end of it.

  She did not want to go into the sitting room to tell her mother where she was going, but felt that while she was living in the same house she owed Eleanor Pemberton that courtesy.

  Maxine, she discovered with a touch of relief, had already informed their mother that Alethea was going for a drive with Trent de Havilland 'This is getting a bit frequent, isn't it?' Eleanor questioned coldly.

  Twice! Trent had called at the house twice! If she hadn't known before, Alethea knew then that her decision to move out was the right one. Sadly she realised that her mother was never going to lighten up. Perhaps she had been born that way. But, whatever the facts, Alethea was more sure than ever that she did not want to grow to be like her.

  `I shouldn't be too long,' she answered, and made her escape.

  Trent got out of his car to open the passenger door the moment she appeared. 'That was quick,' he observed.

  Alethea got in, wondering if she'd been too quick, wondering if he realised how anxious she was to hear what he had to tell her. But, most of all, she considered that the whole wretched affair was a nightmare.

  They did not merely go around the corner, as she had thought they might, but Trent drove out into open country. He had little to say, and, since all Alethea wanted to speak of was the decision he must have made, she had little to say either. She felt nervous of asking him point-blank what conclusion he had come to, though she came close many times.

  The summer evening had given way to dusk when, in a quite picturesque area, with not a house or building in sight, Trent slowed his car and pulled off the road. This was it! This was what she was waiting to hear. She prayed that it would be good news for Maxine and her daughters, and even started to believe that it might be. Trent wouldn't have brought her all this way just to tell her no, would he?

  `I thought you might find it pleasant out here after a day in the city,' Trent commented, switching off the engine and turning to her.

  That wasn't what she wanted to hear. 'It is—very pleasant,' she agreed.

  `You said, on Saturday, that you were going to start looking for somewhere else to live today,' he commented.

  What had that got to do with the price of moth balls? `I've been—er— a little busy!' she hinted.

  `Ah, yes,' he commented, as if he had only just remembered. 'You looked rather gorgeous with that child in your arms.'

  `Are you being deliberately perverse?' she erupted, her nerves getting the better of her, and groaned in despair. She was asking a tremendous favour of him, she just could not afford to get angry. 'I'm sorry,' she apologised primly. 'I meant I'd been busy arranging to
see you—at—at lunchtime, not, as you seem to think, busy helping Maxine with the children.'

  Trent stared into her anxious violet eyes. 'Is it hell?' he queried quietly, and she was unsure what he meant. Did he mean the onslaught of three, though quite often most loveable at other times boisterous, screaming, fighting, raising-hell children when she enjoyed peace and quiet? And that was without taking into account that she also lived with a complaining mother and a dear,

  though frequently tearful sister? Or did he mean it was hell waiting for him to reveal if he was prepared to grant her, on so short an acquaintance, the one very big favour she had asked of him?

  She could hold back no longer. 'What have you decided?' she asked solemnly.

  `About Keith Lawrence helping himself to money that doesn't belong to him?'

  `He'll pay it back. He's ready to, as soon as he can sell the house,' she assured him quickly.

  `And you think that that's good enough, when he was in a highly trusted position?'

  Alethea felt miserable, and as if she was being challenged to defend her brother-in-law. But how could she? He'd treated Maxine shabbily, and was a thief into the bargain. 'I don't want to argue about it, Trent,' she stated unhappily, staring down at her lap. 'I just want to know what you've decided so—'

  `Don't look so sad,' he cut in, and startled her by placing a gentle hand beneath her chin, tilting up her face so he could see into her eyes. 'I've decided,' he began without further ado, 'subject to certain conditions, to give the instruction to cancel the prosecution proceedings.'

  `Oh, Trent!' Alethea exclaimed barely before he'd finished. 'Thank you so much! Keith will agree to any conditions you say; I know he w—' Something in Trent's eyes, his look, caused her to break off. 'What ...?' she began, and, as Trent took his hand from beneath her chin, she began to feel wary.