by Lily Baxter
‘Miss Platt? That had better not be your dulcet tones I can hear out there.’ A sudden loud voice emanating from the packing room caused them both to jump.
Miranda’s smile faded. ‘Who’s that?’ she whispered.
‘It’s Joe the bum pincher. He thinks he owns me body and soul, but he’s got another think coming. Anyway, got to go. See you at six.’ Rita moved on slowly, balancing her load with considerable skill.
Miranda made her way to the stockroom and unlocked the door. She was beginning to feel as though she had been working here forever. Time seemed to move at a slower pace in Morris and Mawson’s empire, and there was still another hour before closing time. She switched on the light and gazed in dismay at the litter of empty boxes, cardboard cartons and general disorder. It would take hours of hard graft to bring order from chaos, but at least it was quiet and peaceful down here, and she did not have the dragon Dowsett breathing down her neck. She set to work with a will.
Next morning Mrs Dowsett sent Miranda straight to the stockroom, barely giving her time to take off her hat and gloves. It was becoming obvious to Miranda that the tyrant of the haberdashery department considered that banishment to the basement was the best way to discipline a new recruit to the workforce, especially one who had the effrontery to be higher up the social scale than she was. Miranda decided to make the best of things, and she set about her task methodically. Albert Scott came down to check on her progress in the middle of the morning and was suitably impressed. She could only hope that he would put Mrs Dowsett firmly in her place the next time she ran to him telling tales.
Rita popped her head round the door several times during the course of the day, and they ate their packed lunch on the seafront, but by closing time Miranda was feeling like a mole. She was hot, dusty and longing for a bath. If she were to be honest she did not feel up to an evening at Thornleigh Court with Izzie Carstairs. She liked her well enough, but she had the feeling that Izzie’s sudden wish to have her as a friend was based on her desire to learn everything about Jack, and perhaps to overcome the animus that existed between their families. She was anticipating a rather dull evening being questioned as to Jack’s likes and dislikes, how many girlfriends he had had and every detail that she could bring to mind about her uncle’s past life. It was not as if she had anything in common with Izzie, who was rich, beautiful and probably quite spoilt.
Even after wallowing in a hot bath and washing the dust from her blonde hair, Miranda still had some misgivings about the evening ahead. She had not had the nerve to tell her grandmother where she was going, but had said simply that she had been invited to have supper with one of the girls from work. Rita had teased her mercilessly but she had agreed to keep up the fiction. They had even invented a person called Sandra Barker, who was a beauty consultant for Elizabeth Arden. Rita had warmed to the story and had given Sandra a family history that would have done credit to Susan Coolidge, including a near fatal accident during childhood resulting in her losing the power of her legs and her subsequent miraculous recovery. Sandra had a boyfriend who was in the merchant navy and her parents were conveniently out of the country, her father being something in the colonial service, which made it impossible for Maggie to corroborate or refute the story. Rita herself had a date with Tommy Toop and they kept that a secret too.
Miranda had a nasty feeling that they were spinning a spider’s web of lies around themselves which might make life even more complicated as time went by. She had almost decided to ring Thornleigh Court and make an excuse for not going, but as she went to pick up the telephone receiver she glanced out of the window and saw a car drawing up outside. Her heart sank and a sudden sense of foreboding seized her as she spotted Izzie about to open the garden gate.
Chapter Eight
TERRIFIED THAT HER grandmother might suddenly appear on the scene and see the daughter of her old enemy walking down the garden path, Miranda put the telephone back on the elephant table, snatched up her bag and gas mask case and hurried out of the house.
‘I’m sorry I’m a bit late,’ Izzie said, smiling a greeting as Miranda ran to meet her. ‘I got held up, but I’m here now. Climb in, Miranda. I’ll try not to terrify you with my driving. I haven’t passed my test yet and I gather they’ve been shelved for the duration.’
‘I can’t drive,’ Miranda said, settling into the passenger seat of the MG Midget.
‘It’s easy. I could give you lessons, if you like. Poor Bessie is getting on in years but she’s still a game old girl.’
‘You’ve got a car called Bessie?’
Izzie started the engine and put it into gear. ‘So what? Jack’s car is called Chloe.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Have you heard from him since he joined his new squadron?’
Miranda took her cue. ‘No. Have you?’
‘Practically every day.’ Isabel reached the end of the road, signalled and executed a right turn. She changed gear. ‘He rings me when he’s off duty, and when I don’t hear from him I go into a flat spin.’ She smiled. ‘Isn’t that silly?’
‘Not really. You’re in love. It’s supposed to be like that.’
‘Yes, I am. I still can’t quite believe it. Everything happened so suddenly. One minute I was just Izzie Carstairs, fancy free and not even thinking about having a relationship with anyone, especially at this frightful time, and then I met Jack and wham! That was it. I think it was the same for him too.’
‘I know it was. He told me so.’
Isabel swerved to avoid a pothole. ‘Did he? Did he really?’
‘Of course he did. I don’t know why you need me to tell you that. I’m sure Jack is quite capable of convincing you that you’re the love of his life.’
Isabel took a bend a little too fast and Miranda had to hold on to her seat. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. But do you really think I am the one? I mean, I’ve been told that Jack has quite a reputation with the ladies. Not that I’m surprised, of course. I expect they chase him because he’s so handsome and adorable, but I don’t want to be just another notch on his belt, so to speak. You do understand, don’t you?’
Miranda’s suspicions were confirmed by every word that spilled from Isabel’s pretty lips. She was here to confirm the fact that her uncle was sincere and not just having one of his flings, but if she were to be entirely honest, Miranda was not certain. How could she know exactly what was going on in Jack’s mind? She could only hope that he would not wake up one morning and realise that it was all a huge mistake, and that he had become bored with Isabel in the same way he had tired of all his other girlfriends. She kept her gaze fixed on the green hedgerows and the open countryside flashing past them as Isabel put her foot down and accelerated.
‘Have you ever been in love, Miranda?’
The question came so suddenly and unexpectedly that for a moment Miranda was at a loss for words. She thought carefully before she answered. ‘I don’t know. I’ve had a couple of boyfriends but I don’t think I was in love with them. I’ve met men that I fancied, but I’m not sure if that’s the same thing.’
Isabel let out a long sigh. ‘Oh, you’ll know, Miranda. When it’s the real thing you’ll know it.’ She slowed down a little as they came to the familiar tunnel of trees that Miranda remembered from her last car ride with Jack, and the beginning of the stone wall that surrounded the Carstairs’ estate. ‘We’re almost there. I do hope you like trout, Miranda. They were caught this morning and Mrs Beasley makes this gorgeous sauce with butter, lemon juice and toasted almonds. I hate to think how we’ll have them when we can’t get any of those things. I’ve already used my month’s petrol ration, so I suppose I’ll have to get my trusty old bike out and ride that when I want to go anywhere.’
Miranda was about to say that if doing without luxuries was all that was worrying her she was lucky, but Isabel had pulled up outside the house. She switched off the engine and climbed out. ‘Come on, Miranda. Let’s go in and have a sherry before dinner.’
>
There was nothing she could do other than to put a brave face on it and Miranda followed her into the house. They were met by the ecstatic barking of a springer spaniel and a bouncy Jack Russell. ‘Down, boys,’ Isabel said, laughing. ‘They get so excited when they hear the car.’
Miranda hesitated as the dogs rushed past her to the front door. ‘It sounds as though you’ve got visitors, Izzie.’
Isabel stopped and turned to her, frowning. ‘I wonder who it can be? I wasn’t expecting anyone. It was meant to be just us girls.’
Miranda knew who it was even before the front door opened. Raif entered the house and was almost bowled over by two excited dogs. Laughing, he dropped his case on the floor and bent down to make a fuss of them.
‘Raif. What are you doing here?’ Isabel stared pointedly at his suitcase. ‘Have they kicked you out of the air force?’
‘No, silly.’ He looked up and his smile faded when he saw Miranda. ‘Oh, hello. I didn’t expect to find you here.’
Isabel bridled angrily. ‘What sort of greeting is that? Don’t tell me that you’re going to be sniffy about the Carstairs family as well. It’s too ridiculous for words.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said apologetically. ‘You’re a nice girl, Miranda, and the ill-feeling between our families has nothing to do with you. I was just surprised to see you here.’
‘That’s okay.’ Miranda bent down to pat the spaniel in an attempt to cover her embarrassment.
‘Why have you come home, anyway?’ Isabel demanded. ‘I thought you were supposed to stay close to the aerodrome.’
‘I brought my washing for Mrs Beasley to do as there isn’t a laundry in the village, and I’d like a few words in private, Izzie.’
‘As you can see I’m entertaining a guest. It’ll simply have to wait.’ Isabel beckoned to Miranda. ‘Let’s have that sherry and leave old Mr Grumpy to sweet talk Mrs Beasley into washing his smalls. She always did spoil him rotten.’
Miranda could sense the tension between brother and sister and she wished now that she had followed her instinct and made an excuse to stay at home. Her pulses had begun to race the moment Raif walked through the door but his cold manner had sent chills running down her spine. She was beginning to wonder what had attracted her to him in the first place and the last thing she wanted was to be caught up in a family row. ‘Er, perhaps I should go,’ she said, edging towards the door. ‘I don’t mind walking.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Raif said, frowning. ‘It’s a good five miles to Highcliffe and it looks like rain.’ He met her agitated gaze and his expression softened. ‘There’s no need for you to stay and witness our stupid squabbles. Why don’t you go through to the drawing room? What I have to say to my sister won’t take long.’
Isabel caught Miranda by the arm. ‘Stay here. I’m sure it’s something and nothing. Say what you have to say, Raif, and be quick about it.’
Miranda stared at her in amazement. Her first impression of Isabel might have been influenced by Jack’s description of her as sweet and angelic, but this kitten obviously had claws, and Isabel was clearly ready for a fight. ‘This is between the two of you,’ she said, pulling away. ‘I’d rather not get involved.’
Raif held up his hand. ‘No, on second thoughts perhaps you’d better stay. This does concern your family and maybe you should hear it first hand.’
‘Get on with it, Raif.’ Isabel folded her arms across her chest.
‘All right then, it’s quite simple, Izzie. I don’t want you to have anything to do with Jack Beddoes.’
‘Is that all? For heaven’s sake, Raif. Tell me something new.’
‘Jack Beddoes is a seducer of silly young girls like you. He’s had more conquests than Casanova. It’s well known in the mess. In fact they’re taking bets on who will be next and how many notches he’ll have on his bedpost before Christmas.’
The colour faded from Isabel’s cheeks and her eyes widened in shock. ‘That’s a beastly thing to say.’
He crossed the floor to take both her hands in his. ‘Izzie, don’t think I’m enjoying this, because I’m not. But I won’t stand by and see my sister taken in by a man who seems to have made a career of ruining women’s lives.’
She pushed him away. ‘Are you sure you’re not getting Jack muddled up with Father? He’s the original ladykiller, and he’s the reason why you’ve never trusted yourself to have a meaningful relationship with a woman. I think you’re just jealous of Jack and you don’t want me to be happy.’
He was silent for a moment, and then he shook his head. ‘All I want to do is to protect you from a man who’ll break your heart.’
Miranda had had enough. She moved to Isabel’s side. ‘Leave her alone, you bully. And it’s not true what they’re saying about my uncle. Jack is a good person and he truly loves Isabel. You shouldn’t listen to gossip.’
‘Naturally you’d stand up for him, Miranda. You’re too young to know what goes on in the real world.’
His tone was offhand and she was rapidly revising her good opinion of Raif Carstairs. ‘I’m almost twenty,’ she said icily. ‘I don’t know what your family has against mine, but it seems to me that you’re using some sort of ancient feud to make your sister’s life miserable.’
‘Go away, Raif,’ Isabel said, linking arms with Miranda. ‘You’ve said your piece and it doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference. I love Jack and nothing you can say will change that. Come along, Miranda. I think we need two very large sherries and a bottle of wine with dinner.’
The meal was delicious but Miranda had lost her appetite; she managed to swallow a few mouthfuls of asparagus soup and she toyed with the trout almondine, but her throat felt as though it was about to close and she would choke if she attempted to eat another morsel. She was tempted by the delicious summer pudding made with fruit from the walled garden, so Mrs Beasley proudly said when it was served, but Miranda only nibbled enough to be polite. Isabel on the other hand ate heartily. She licked the last of the fruit juices from her spoon, glancing ruefully at her empty plate. ‘I really would love another slice, but that would be greedy.’ She consulted her watch. ‘I wonder if Raif’s eaten. I’m beginning to feel guilty about dining so well when he’s probably had something ghastly in the mess.’ She drained her wine glass and reached for the bottle. ‘More wine, Miranda?’
‘No, thanks. I’ve had more than enough. My head’s spinning.’
Isabel refilled her own glass. ‘Daddy says that a woman should be able to hold her drink.’ She giggled, spilling a drop of white wine on the tablecloth. ‘But then he should know; he’s a notorious womaniser. It’s so unfair of Raif to put Jack in the same category. I daresay Daddy’s philandering is the real reason why our families are at loggerheads.’
Miranda almost dropped her spoon. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Don’t take any notice of me, I’m a bit squiffy.’
‘But you must have had some reason for saying such a thing.’
‘I was just adding two and two and making five.’ Isabel raised her glass. ‘Here’s to improved relationships between the Carstairs and the Beddoes clans. Maybe all it needs is for Jack and me to get together and everything will be fine.’ She put her glass down carefully and stood up, swaying slightly. ‘I think I’d better drive you home now, Miranda.’
‘No, really. I can walk.’ Miranda rose to her feet. It was painfully obvious that Isabel was in no condition to get behind the wheel. ‘After such a lovely meal the exercise will be good for me. Thank you for inviting me here tonight.’
‘It was a disaster,’ Isabel said with a tipsy chuckle. ‘My dear brother saw to that. C’mon. I’m quite okay to drive. It’ll sober me up.’ She staggered from the room, leaving Miranda with no alternative but to follow her to the entrance hall.
Isabel wandered over to the console table and began rifling through the contents of her handbag. ‘Where did I put my car key? I’m sure I didn’t leave it in the ignition.’
Isabel held out her hand. ‘Did you take them from my bag?’
‘You’re not fit to drive, Izzie. I’ll take Miranda home.’
‘Thank you, but I’d rather walk.’ Miranda made for the front door, but Raif barred her way.
‘I’m going past Highcliffe. It’s no trouble.’
‘No, you’re not. It’s completely the opposite direction to the aerodrome.’
‘Stop arguing. I’ll take her.’ Isabel made a grab for the keys but Raif held them out of reach.
‘Go to bed, Izzie, you’re potted.’ He turned to Miranda with an attempt at a smile. ‘It’s no trouble, and it’s getting late. Your grandparents wouldn’t want you walking home in the dark.’
‘It’s still quite light.’
‘It won’t be by the time you’ve trudged five miles along narrow country lanes. Stop arguing and get in the car. Please,’ he added when she failed to move. ‘I’m late as it is, and giving you lifts is becoming a habit.’
‘How could a girl refuse such a charming invitation,’ Isabel said, curling her lip. ‘It’s a pity you didn’t inherit some of Daddy’s winning ways, Raif. It’s little wonder that I fell for Jack. At least he’s a gentleman.’
‘Go to bed and sleep it off, Izzie.’ Raif turned his back on her and went to the front door. He opened it and was about to step outside but he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. ‘Please accept a lift, Miranda. I might not be my sister’s idea of a perfect escort, but I won’t leave a young girl to walk home alone.’
‘I hate you, Raif,’ Isabel said, shaking her fist at him. ‘G’bye, Miranda. We must do this again some time soon.’ She teetered off towards the staircase.
Miranda knew when she was beaten and she followed Raif out of the house, pausing to take a deep breath of the cool evening air. Tall shadows stalked across the neatly cut lawns and the rich fruitcake smell of dew-soaked earth and leaf mould mingled with the heady perfume of night-scented stocks and honeysuckle. The old house in its lovely setting should have been a haven of peace and contentment, but an atmosphere of melancholy seemed to linger over it in a suffocating cloud.
