Roz manufactured a smile out of good manners, there was no mirth in it. 'Hello, darling,' she pointedly excluded Charles from the greeting. 'Have you missed me?' While she was asking, she handed over the extravagantly large flask of Arpege perfume which was the best which she'd been able to buy on a Sunday in Brighton. 'That's for being a good girl.' Her glance slid to the cot. 'Has the baby been fed?'
'Mmm,' Eve smiled widely, 'and guess who gave him his bottle?'
'Don't tell me,' Roz kept the smile going, although it was so artificial, she thought her face would crack. 'Charles!'
'And he's found a name for him, isn't that nice? You know how I've been trying to get just the right name,' Eve had transferred her attention to the sleeping baby so that Roz felt free to scowl. 'Jasper,' Eve said it lovingly. 'Jasper Stephen. What do you think of that?'
'A bit highfalutin',' Roz wrinkled her nose. 'I go for the "Tom, Dick or Harry" thing myself, something simple, but I daresay I'll grow to like Jasper in time. Wasn't that always the name of the wicked squire in those old Victorian melodramas?'
'Mmm,' Eve giggled girlishly. 'We'll have to hope that he keeps his fuzz of black hair, it would be awful if he lost it all and went blond on us.'
'And you can, later on, get him to grow a handlebar moustache to go with it. Then he'll really look the part—a proper villain.' Over the top of Eve's head, Roz stared stonily at Charles and gave a definite emphasis to the last three words. 'Where are the girls and Stephen?'
'The girls have gone to a birthday party at the vicarage, Stephen dropped them off on his way to Brighton.' Eve made a little face of distress. 'The poor man had to go and see that ghastly post-graduate student, she's having trouble with her American studies. So I don't know when he'll be back. Will you be able to fetch the girls, Roz? About half past five, I think, so that the vicar and his wife have time to get ready for evening service.'
'Mmm, anything else?' Roz rooted in her bag for the neglected paperbacks and handed them over.
'The cars,' Eve frowned. 'I've persuaded Charles to stay for a few days, you'd better show him where to put his car, and I've given him that single room next to yours, it's all aired, but if you'll make up the bed…' She sighed. 'What a pity it will be if Stephen's late.'
'Not a pity,' Roz contradicted, 'a blessing. Start praying that he doesn't arrive until we've put Charles' car out of danger, he's quite likely to drive straight through it if he's in his absent-minded professor mood. Come along, Charles,' she was brisk with a diamond-hard glitter in her eyes. 'We'll put your car away first; we can collect the girls in Eve's Mini.'
CHAPTER THREE
'On second thoughts,' Roz paused in the corridor to allow Charles to catch her up, 'we'll see to your bed first,' and she collected sheets and pillowcases from the linen cupboard, maintaining an impersonal attitude which masked displeasure, but the masking wasn't strong enough so that the displeasure broke through before she was aware of it. 'You're spying on me, Charles. I thought you were above that.'
'Not at all.' He was urbane. 'I'm not spying, but neither am I above it if it suits my purpose. Actually, this visit is partly business, and I also have copies of your photographs in the boot of my car; I thought you might like to see them.'
'Scraggy and haunted?' Her good humour was returning and she could smile at him normally.
'No, just a little bit out of focus; deliberately so, of course, so that you look as charming as ever.' He accepted the pile of bed linen without a murmur and followed her.
'Speaking of charm,' Roz led the way down the corridor to the room where he would be sleeping and paused with her hand on the door knob, 'how did you know where to find me, and how did you get round Eve so that she was willing to put you up for the night?'
'The first was easy.' He waved aside any idea of difficulty, while he grinned at her amiably. 'After you left my place on Saturday, I rang your editor at her home address. She told me where I could find you.'
'Just like that?' Roz raised her eyebrows until they nearly vanished into her hairline.
'Just like that,' he agreed complacently. 'You've been underestimating my powers, sweetie. A mixture of my charm and guile is well known to be irresistible; I don't usually use the mixture for that very reason, but I wanted to find you.'
'Business? That's what you implied.'
'Mmm. Yours and mine, but mostly yours,' he murmured, and there was the ghost of a laugh at the back of the words. 'There was this girl growing thin and pale; it was obvious to me that she was being starved of something—'
'In here, Charles,' she interrupted, flinging open the door on to a small, spartan room which was obviously unused. She took the pile of linen from him and dumped it on the bed. 'As you see,' she waved a hand round the room and her voice dripped honey, 'we don't go in for much in the way of sybaritic luxury. I hope it won't be too much of a contrast with your colour co-ordinated satin sleeping wear. But you ought to be able to ignore the clash for one night.'
'One night? Oh, no, Roz darling. Even I couldn't seduce you in one night, and certainly not on this narrow little bed. You weren't listening anyway—your sister has invited me to stay for as long as I like. Somehow she has the idea that you and I are at the beginning of something big and beautiful and she's ready to do her utmost to bring it to its passionate and inevitable conclusion.'
'Shut up!' she hissed at him rudely, her temper on the boil. 'One more word and I'll—I'll hit you!'
'No, you won't, darling.' His arm was about her and tightening painfully while his other hand encircled her throat. Had she been able, Roz would have put up her hands to cover her ears and shut out the sound of his voice which was no longer gently satirical; now it held a definite threat.
'Because, if you hit me,' his gaze was concentrated on the top of the stairs which he could see through the open door and he dropped his voice to a sibilant whisper, 'if you hit me, I'll hit you back, I'm no gentleman in that respect! I'll do it where it won't show but it will hurt.' And then his gaze came back to her face and his eyes lit up with a demoniacal gleam in their dark depths. 'Smile nicely, Roz, and don't squeal when I kiss you. There's a very disapproving gentleman watching us from the top of the stairs. He looks as though he's going to blow a gasket! Is he the one you've been starving for?'
Her attempt to turn and look over her shoulder was stopped almost before it started; the finger around her throat slid up to her chin, holding her head tilted so that she couldn't move. Within a brief moment, she no longer wanted to; Charles' mouth teased her lips apart and she softened against him. Tears of humiliation welled into her eyes, tears for her own stupid weakness, and Charles raised his head, reached for his handkerchief and wiped them away.
'Just another free sample,' he whispered mockingly in her ear. 'Do you like the line?'
Roz recovered herself swiftly and stepped back from him as far as the arm about her waist would allow her to go. 'No, I don't,' she muttered angrily. 'It's a bit brash and I don't think the colour suits me.' She half turned in the circle of his arm, aware all the time that it showed no sign of slackening. 'Hello, Stephen,' she caricatured a smile at her brother-in-law. 'Eve was getting worried about you. She thought you'd be stuck for the rest of the day with your post-grad student and Hiawatha!' There was a slight pause before she continued; it helped to steady her voice. 'This is Charles Maine, my photographer; Charles, my brother-in-law, Professor Stephen Berry. Eve has invited Charles to stay for a few days,' she added as though it was an extenuating circumstance.
'Charles Maine.' Stephen extended a hand, smiling with his best brand of bonhomie. 'Did they ever call you Charlemagne?'
'One or two did try.' Charles leaned back against the doorpost, pulling Roz back with him and holding her firmly so that she couldn't wriggle free, 'but they soon gave up.'
Stephen gave his great big glorious laugh and then became plaintive. 'I can't get my car in the garage,' he complained gently.
Roz seized on this with a breath of relief, glad that the c
onversation had taken a turn she could handle. 'We were just going to see about that when I'd made this bed up for Charles. If you'll slip down to the village, Stephen, and collect the girls from the vicarage party, Charles and I will have it all arranged by the time you get back. Better call in on Eve while you're here,' she added as he nodded and turned away.
'So that's your trouble.' Charles smoothed out his side of the sheet and tucked it in, making neat hospital corners. 'Your brother-in-law is suffering from night starvation and he's making passes at you.'
Roz raised a red face which could have been caused by the effort of stuffing pillows into pillowcases. 'You do have a nasty mind!'
'Not a bit.' He shook out the top sheet and tucked his end in. 'Not nasty, just practical. Your sister told me she'd been an invalid for almost three months and your brother-in-law looks the virile type.' His mouth took on a tight, straight line.
'You disapprove?' She raised an eyebrow.
'Everybody has their hang-ups.' He faced her across the bed. 'Some men don't approve of married women, I have this thing about single girls and married men.'
'Sorry to disappoint you, but you've got it all wrong.' She finished the bedmaking at top speed. 'But then you would have, wouldn't you? You come down here, walk into a strange house among strangers and start making snap judgments based on only a few hours' acquaintance. You're almost bound to misread the situation. There,' she looked at the bed and around the room to see that he had everything he would require, 'that's finished, now shall we go down and sort out the garaging problem?'
Roz had difficulty in starting Eve's Mini, and for two pins she would have clouted it with something heavy, but finally the little car started with a sulky growl and she backed it out of the garage, the gears screaming viciously. She narrowly missed one wing of Charles's car as she swirled the Mini round in a tight circle and pulled it to a jerking halt on the grass verge of the driveway. She switched off the ignition and climbed out, shaking unaccountably.
'If that's the way you treat a car,' came Charles's hateful voice in a mild reproof, 'I shan't let you drive mine.'
Roz took one look at the enormous bronze-coloured Cadillac, eyeing it with reverential dislike. 'I wouldn't even try,' she retorted. 'I'd rather take my chance with a double-decker bus! Put it in yourself, where the Mini was, the other side of the garage is Stephen's.' And she swished off into the house, leaving him to dock his mini-battleship, collect his bag and follow her.
He caught her up on the stairs. 'Something tells me that I'm an unwelcome visitor, darling,' he murmured.
'How did you guess?' Her lip lifted in a delicate snarl. 'And don't call me darling. You know what I think of that.'
'If it's what you said on the phone, you couldn't be more wrong. It's the height of ingratitude to forget which girl you went to bed with, and if it was you, Roz, it would be an unforgettable experience.'
'And one which won't ever come your way!' It was with a definite feeling of satisfaction that she let herself into the master bedroom, to find Eve up and dressed.
'I'm coming down to see to dinner,' her sister was determined. 'I've had enough of this lying around like a dying swan—and don't make a face! The doctors said I could get up for a while each day.'
Despite Roz's forebodings, dinner was a pleasant meal. Eve provided Stephen with his healthy salad, but she had made sure that other tastes were catered for, so that, while Stephen filled up on lean meat and lettuce, there were thick steaks, buttered new potatoes, asparagus tips and celery with a cheese sauce for those who had less consideration for their health and welfare. Charles was a good conversationalist and Stephen exerted every ounce of his not inconsiderable charm, so that when Roz and Eve left them to go and make coffee they were both quite amicably discussing modern literature.
'He's a dish!' Eve eyed her sister conspiratorially. 'You're a dark horse, Roz, hiding Charles under a bushel like that.'
'A typical case of mixed metaphors,' Roz grinned. 'But you always did—mix them, I mean. Actually, he's been very good to me as far as my job goes. He's a marvellous photographer and there are one or two shots where he's made me look too good to be true. But don't get any wrong ideas about him,' she warned. 'Once he gets his hands on a camera, all the good humour vanishes like snow in summer. He can be a dictator. The first time I went to him, he told me to wash my face and then he pulled the rest of me to bits systematically. He made me feel like Hans Andersen's Ugly Duckling!'
'You never were ugly,' protested Eve. 'I remember you well, you were a lovely little thing.'
'And there speaks my sister!' Roz chuckled, and the conversation degenerated into childhood reminiscences until bedtime.
The next morning started well. Roz was up early to get breakfast for Stephen and little Freda; they would both leave the house at the same time and Stephen would first of all drive to the village to drop his elder daughter at the school before going on to Brighton and breakfast for them was a simple matter. Wheatflakes followed by a boiled egg, toast with a low cholesterol spread and homemade marmalade, all washed down with orange juice. Healthy, non-fattening food with not a poisonous chemical in sight!
It was also a silent meal, Stephen eating stolidly with such a smile of deep satisfaction on his face that Roz found herself wondering what he'd been up to. Then she took herself to task for having a nasty, suspicious mind; Stephen was merely pleased that at last Eve was showing signs of recovery. Freda was silent because she was reciting her multiplication tables under her breath. When they had gone, Roz made a fresh pot of coffee and took a cup up to her sister.
Eve was awake and out of bed, struggling into a cotton housedress and slippers, and at Roz's look of displeasure she asserted herself. 'I'm coming downstairs and I'm going to start getting back into the swing of things. I feel miles better already just thinking about it. I was getting depressed staying up here in bed, out of touch, useless and worrying all the time. Don't scold, love; honestly, I won't overdo it, but it's a lovely day and I'm going to put Jasper in the garden in his pram.'
'But you'll have a rest this afternoon?' Roz was willing to give in, but not all at once.
'Promise!' Eve smiled widely. 'Carry your nephew downstairs, please, I'd never forgive myself if I dropped him.' She cocked an ear at a familiar sound. 'Is that Gilly yelling? Don't bother, I'll see to her.'
And although Roz had qualms about her sister doing too much too soon, she breathed a sigh of relief. Eve was definitely better, she was taking up the reins of management again. It might only be a week or so before she, Roz, could get back to London, to find herself a small flat or a commodious bedsitter and start thinking in earnest about her new career. No more worries about Stephen or Charles, they could be out of her orbit.
But at lunchtime the day went sour on her. Charles wished to take her into Brighton, he wanted to take some photographs of the Pavilion, and she was to provide the human interest. Of course, Eve agreed with every word he said—she would! Eve's eyes held a matchmaking gleam and while Roz longed to wipe that gleam away, which she could have done easily by explaining that Charles had nothing more permanent in mind than perhaps a tatty weekend or even a one-night stand, she lacked the courage to be so blunt. Eve liked Charles—it would be cruel to show him to her in his real colours.
Hence, she was on her way to Brighton clad in a yellow sundress with a small matching jacket and seated in splendour in the Cadillac. She hoped that he wouldn't be able to find anywhere large enough to park it!
Charles leaned across, taking one hand off the wheel to touch her bare shoulder. 'You don't freckle, I hope…'
'No,' she shook her head. 'I've a tough, thick skin, much darker than Eve's, and if I'm anywhere really hot I go the colour of old leather. By Christmas, I've faded to a muddy beige which isn't very attractive, but it's not warm enough in England to do more than make me a shade darker than normal.'
Much to her chagrin, Charles found a parking ground close to the Pavilion, and a space in it large enough to ta
ke the Cadillac, and after making all the right adjustments, he spent nearly an hour photographing her against the forest of domes. She obligingly slipped from one pose into another, precariously leaning on weak-looking balustrades and going up steps and down them again at his direction.
'Isn't that enough?' she asked at last. 'What do you want all this for anyway? I've finished. Roz Wilshire has now joined the journalistic trade.'
'They're not for publication, not as advertisements.' He was serious. 'I'm entering the field of photographic art; you might even end up in an exhibition, if you're good enough.' He slipped the camera back into its case. 'Tea now, I think,' leading her with unerring accuracy to the best restaurant in Brighton. 'You probably need it.
'I was right, wasn't I?' He watched her as she poured their tea, in the tastefully decorated Chinese room of the restaurant which looked as though somebody had done it out to resemble some of the less hideous parts of the Pavilion. 'I said it was either a diet or a man, though I didn't allow for it being both, Oh, yes,' as she opened her mouth to deny it, 'your sister was most informative on the subject of her husband's health food craze. She knew you'd been sharing the rabbit food. My arrival gave her the excuse she'd been waiting for to get downstairs and start feeding you properly.'
Roz simmered under the surface. 'It's a very healthy diet,' she muttered, 'all full of roughage and so on. One gets used to it very quickly.'
'Not me, darling.' Charles looked at her sternly. 'There's a chance it may be served up to us all next time, and I'm not taking the chance. I saw a nice little place on the way here, and that's where we're going to have dinner tonight and every other night of my stay, if we can manage it. That way I'll be spared not only the healthy food but the languishing looks your brother-in-law keeps giving you.'
Tame a Proud Heart Page 4
