by Jane Corrie
a bit too old to pull up roots now anyway. So we stay till we're pushed, okay?' he said brightly.
As Jenny blinked quickly to dispel the tears this
capitulation on his part had brought, she gave him a misty smile and nodded, not trusting herself to say anything.
'Any idea of what changes he's got in mind for modernising?' Tony asked quickly, to take her mind off the past.
Jenny shook her head slowly. 'He hasn't said anything to me if he has. I only hope he doesn't try to turn the place into a chromium-plated palace—not that I think he will,' she added musingly. 'He's got exceptionally good taste, whatever else we might say of him,' she ended dryly.
'That's as maybe,' growled Tony, refusing to endorse this fact, 'but as long as he confines his activities to the business side, I've no quarrel with him. If he steps out of line, just shout for me, and I'll give him a few home truths that he won't forget in a hurry,' he said ferociously.
Later that day Silas sought Mark out in the office, with the request that he meet his niece at London Airport the following day, as he had to attend the conference, and Jenny did not fail to note the carefully veiled annoyance that Mark felt at this request, although he agreed to meet Dilys.
It had been several days since Mark had mentioned Dilys's visit, and Jenny, with so much on her mind, had almost forgotten the girl. Now she found she was curious to meet her, but more important than that, to note Mark's attitude towards her. Silas
had said that Mark was `fond' of Dilys, and womanlike, Jenny couldn't help wondering if Mark had given the girl cause for her devotion, and if so, she felt genuinely sorry for her. She knew from experience what it felt like to be swept off her feet and then dropped when the attraction faded. If he had treated Dilys as he had treated her, then she would do all in her power to assist Silas Hawter in his quest for his niece's happiness. How, she couldn't at that moment in time exactly see, but if Mark wanted to give the impression that he was still keen on her, she would find some way of disproving this fact in a manner that left no room for doubt, and there would be nothing Mark could do about it, short of strangling her, that was!
The following morning, Jenny had time on her hands. With Mark detailed to meet Dilys at the airport, it did not take her long to clear up a few odd jobs that had been left over from the previous day, and now that she had done that, she was at a loose end, although the rest of the hotel was busy preparing for a second influx of guests. The change-over was due that day and meant a lot of feverish activity on the part of the staff.
As yet there was no sign of Silas Hawter departing, although the conference ended that day. Jenny presumed he meant to stay until things between her and Mark, or she hoped between Dilys and Mark, had worked themselves out, and if it depended on the outcome between her and Mark, then he was due for a very long visit, she thought.
After coffee break that morning she made her
way down to the hotel foyer, with the intention of giving a hand wherever help was required. She had often done this in the past when the hotel had once before been a going concern, but those days seemed very far away now. She sensed the busy almost impersonal atmosphere of the well trained staff as they passed her on their separate duties, and had an odd feeling that she was slightly de trop, and that her offer of help might well be kindly, but firmly refused, and this made her feel sad, even though she knew there was now ample staff to cope with the work, for more staff had been taken on since Mark had taken over. Even Rose, she thought sadly, had failed to notice her appearance, and was intent on studying a list of some kind, probably familiarising herself with the names of the incoming guests.
A pile of the daily papers lay on the small occasional table next to the dining room. They were normally taken through to the lounge each day, and as this had not yet been attended to, Jenny picked them up and took them through to the lounge.
She was on her way out of the lounge when the words 'Isn't it quaint?' came through from the dining room, and as the accent was American, Jenny presumed Miss Dilys Hawter had arrived.
Not wanting it to look as if she was eavesdropping, she started to leave the lounge by the side door that was used only by the staff, and heard Mark's deep well-modulated voice answer as she reached the door. 'Quaint's hardly the word,' lie said dryly. 'Antiquated is the word, I think. Still,
your compatriots are of the same opinion as you are, apparently.'
The girl chuckled. 'You've no sentiment, Mark,' she teased him lightly. 'Sure, they'll go for it, lifts or no lifts. Are you going to modernise it?' she queried, adding swiftly, 'I do hope not. I think it would be a pity to alter it.'
Although Jenny was halfway through the door she couldn't resist waiting to hear his answer. It was a question she had so much wanted to ask him herself, but was hardly able to do so, not in her present position.
`Lifts, probably,' he replied. 'They ought to have been put in years ago, but Peacock was not a business man, he was a sentimentalist, and it didn't pay.'
There was a harshness in his voice that hadn't been there until he mentioned Malcolm, and Jenny knew a spurt of surprise that he could still be bitter about him.
`He left the business to his secretary, didn't he, and wasn't that the girl you were engaged to?' asked his companion, in what sounded like an idle way, but Jenny gently closing the door behind her sensed the strain behind the question.
Her cheeks were flushed as she made her way back to her office. It served her right for listening to their conversation. It was said that listeners did not hear any good of themselves, and so it was with her. The way the question had been framed left Jenny in no doubt of the fact that Mark's opinion on why Malcolm had left her the business was
shared by Dilys, and there was nothing she could do about it, even if she had wanted to.
By the time Mark had brought Dilys to the office to meet her, Jenny had herself well in hand, and was able to shake the small hand Dilys held out to her with a calmness that belied her inner thoughts.
In height, Jenny had the advantage of Dilys, if only by an inch or so, but her slim, slight figure, as against the younger girl's well-endowed curvaceous one, made her appear taller than she actually was. Her eyes, Jenny noted, were a light brown, as was her hair, that was worn loose, and held back by a bandeau that matched her pink two-piece suit, that clung to her figure. The colour suited her well, thought Jenny, and no doubt Dilys was well aware of this fact. As Jenny shook her hand and murmured the conventional greeting, she saw how the girl's eyes went from her to Mark, as if trying to assess his feelings towards the woman he was once engaged to, and not wanting to jeopardise her own position by making a false move.
With the intention of giving her a lead in this direction, Jenny asked Dilys if Mr Chanter had shown her her room, and if not, she suggested she should take her along straight away and give her time to freshen up before lunch, adding with a smile that she had been allotted the room next to her uncle.
Mark's frown showed that he had not liked the 'Mr Chanter' reference one little bit, and he made his point with a, 'Since when have we stood on protocol, Jenny? Dilys is almost one of the family, and
I want you to become firm friends with her, so no more of this "Mr Chanter" or "Miss Hawter" reference, if you please.'
Jenny didn't 'please', neither did Dilys, apparently, although Jenny did not know her sufficiently well to be really certain, but there was something about the way her small jaw hardened that suggested annoyance. In an oblique way, Mark had managed to stamp Dilys categorically as a friend, and nothing more than a friend, and this must have given her hopes a nasty jolt.
Having clearly settled that issue between the girls, Mark made some blithe remark about having a few things to see to before lunch, and he would leave the girls to get acquainted.
In the tiny silence that followed his departure, Jenny met Dilys's downcast look with one of sympathy. 'Well, shall we find your room?' she asked gently, not really knowing what else to say, as it was obvious Dil
ys had no interest in any other subject but Mark, and she had no intention of indulging in small talk with Jenny.
Her drawled, 'Sure,' was said without any enthusiasm at all, and Jenny wanted to tell her just how things were between herself and Mark, and that she had no need to look so miserable. If Silas Hawter was of the opinion that his niece could work the oracle and land Mark as a husband, then there was everything to play for. He had been right about her looks; she was very pretty, with a sort of appealing attraction that many men would find hard to resist. It was a pity that she had settled on Mark,
thought Jenny, for she couldn't have picked a more elusive man—elusive, that was, where the ring of wedding bells was concerned! But something told her that Dilys was not as helpless as she looked, and wouldn't give up the chase until her quarry was actually standing at the altar with another woman by his side!
Her thoughts on this were shortly borne out by the way Dilys made no attempt at a friendly overture once they were alone, and treated Jenny much as she might have treated any of the hotel staff who had accompanied her to her room, and once there, Jenny had no option but to leave her to it, with the courteous wish that she enjoy her stay at Peacock's Walk, much as she would have done to any other guest.
So much for Mark's wish that they should become friends, she thought ruefully as she made her way back to the office. You could lead a horse to water, but you couldn't make it drink—and so it would be between Dilys and herself! She would, of course, be perfectly polite to Jenny in Mark's presence, but that was as far as it would go. Without lifting a finger she knew she had been classed an enemy to be outflanked at all costs, and considering Jenny was on her side, it was too ridiculous for words.
That evening, to her annoyance, she found herself making up a foursome at dinner, on Mark's slim excuse that three would be tiresome. He had given her no choice in the matter by blithely remarking that she could fill Dilys in on the history angle of old Brighton, adding with a smile that took
Jenny back to their courting days, 'I'm not quite so well up on that subject as you are.'
The remark, as well as the smile, brought back memories Jenny would rather push away from her. She had been an avid student of the past history of the town she had been born in, and Mark knew this. It was during a visit to the Royal Pavilion that Mark had proposed to her, and the memory brought colour to her cheeks. If Mark had noted this, he said nothing, but Jenny had an uncomfortable feeling that his thoughts were parallel to hers.
As far as Jenny, was concerned the evening was 'tiresome' indeed ! —what with Dilys trying to work up some enthusiasm over the historic events of the past glories of Brighton, and Jenny trying to ignore the fact that Mark never took his eyes off her all the time she was relating the history, making Dilys's concentration slightly wander from the salient points of interest Jenny was trying to provide her with.
At least Silas gave her his undivided attention, and Jenny had to be thankful for that, but when Dilys suggested a visit to the Pavilion that was enthusiastically seconded by her uncle, she was dismayed to find that she was expected to accompany them, and no amount of excuses would serve to relieve her of this, to her way of thinking, onerous task.
If she had hoped for Mark's co-operation in getting her out of such an outing, she was disappointed, for he merely sat there smiling, and weighed in on the Hawters' side. When he nodded complacently
at Dilys's eager, 'You're coming of course, aren't you, Mark?' Jenny could have spat at him, she was so furious. If he had tried to embarrass her, he couldn't have found a better way of doing it—although it was hardly likely that either Silas or Dilys knew of the personal event that had taken place between her and Mark during their last visit.
How she could be expected to conduct such a tour, not only with such memories crowding in on her, but with the very man that she shared those memories with, was beyond her comprehension.
Two days later, however, Jenny had come to the undeniable conclusion that she had been right all along in her previous summing-up of Mark's reason for introducing her to the Hawters, for it was plain to see that Dilys, as Jenny had suspected, was a very determined young lady, and had her quarry been anyone else but Mark Chanter, Jenny would have advised the unfortunate recipient of her devotion to wave the white flag! As it was, she had every confidence in Mark successfully eluding the net, and was even a little intrigued as she stood, as it were, on the sidelines, and watched battle commence.
To be strictly honest, no matter how furious she was with Mark for dragging her into the fray, she was certain that he had not encouraged Dilys in any way. If she had not been Silas Hawter's niece, then he might have flirted with her, but Jenny knew instinctively that he would respect his friendship with Silas, and as such, would do nothing to endanger it.
If Jenny was at times embarrassed by the way Dilys haunted Mark, then her uncle was no less embarrassed. Jenny felt sorry for him, for he too was a bystander, but it must have been much more difficult for him. He had a high regard for Mark, and he loved his niece. No matter how much he might hope that Dilys achieved her heart's desire, lie surely knew now that Mark had no intention of marrying her, and Jenny wondered whether he had tried to instil this fact into Dilys. Perhaps he had known it would have been a useless quest, and like Jenny had to wait and see the whole miserable business through to its sad culmination. If she knew Mark, it would not be long before he called a halt to the fiasco in no uncertain terms, as Jenny was sure he would have done some time ago if it had not been for Dilys's relationship to Silas Hawter.
Her thoughts on the Pavilion outing, however, took a very different turn from the slightly sympathetic attitude she had taken against the Mark versus Dilys affair. Even though she had now reasoned out that Mark was trading on their past association to help him out of a dilemma, but dilemma or not, no man with an ounce of sensitivity would have attempted to instigate such a visit to the place that held such poignant memories to both of them. On this thought she corrected herself hastily; not to both of them—only her. Not that that would have mattered one whit to him. He had said that she owed him, hadn't he? This would have been his way of exacting some kind of penance. It was also a good way of making sure that he would
not be landed with the task of escorting Dilys to the places she wished to visit.
He could have found no better way of showing her that he was completely indifferent to her feelings on this, and if she were fool enough to show her chagrin at being used in this way, then it would only give him satisfaction, and do nothing for her much deflated ego. It was at this point that Jenny recalled what Silas Hawter had said about Mark having a few ghosts to lay, and it did occur to her that maybe the trip to the Pavilion was in aid of this, only she could not believe in the credibility of this. As for laying a few ghosts, in her case it would mean raising them, after she had taken such pains to bury them.
The evening before they were due to visit the Pavilion, Dilys buttonholed Jenny as she was about to retire to her room after once again spending the evening making up a foursome at dinner at Mark's insistence, and Dilys's fury, since she had still not managed to wangle a solo date with Mark.
During dinner he had been exceptionally attentive to Jenny, and not surprisingly Dilys was on the warpath. As Jenny's quarters were on the other side of the hotel premises to Dilys's room, she was a little dismayed to find that Dilys had doubled back after saying goodnight to them all, and caught up with Jenny as she was on the point of entering her rooms.
Her grim, 'I think it's time we had a talk,' left Jenny in no doubt of her purpose, and no chance of evading the issue either.
Jenny was tired, and no matter how understand-
ing she might have tried to be, in all fairness she did not deserve this kind of treatment—not from Mark, who was plainly enjoying her discomfiture at his very obvious attentiveness during the dinners he prevailed upon her to attend, and who reverted back to the cool, slightly distant boss during working hours-or from this girl who had
set her sights on an impossible dream.
'Just what do you hope to gain by playing up to Mark?' Dilys demanded furiously. 'And don't try to act the innocent with me. I know everything—why he jilted you for a start—and if you're thinking he'll take you back, then you're wasting your time. He's playing with you. Why don't you use your head and get out?'
It was a question Jenny had asked herself not so very long ago, the 'getting out' part anyway, for there were limits to what she was prepared to put up with, home or no home, and she eyed the girl with just as much fury in her eyes. It was bad enough Mark bringing up the past without this girl who wouldn't take no for an answer bringing it up.
'Might I ask just what the past has to do with you?' she asked coldly, thinking it was about time Dilys received a few home truths, and if she wasn't very careful, she might find herself on the receiving end of the lecture her uncle, or Mark, had failed to deliver.
'Everything!' spat out Dilys. 'I love Mark—have always loved him. If you hadn't the sense to know that you couldn't play fast and loose with him, that's
your bad luck. It's my turn now, and I don't intend to stand aside for you or anyone—particularly for you. If it hadn't been for the way you treated him he might well have married me by now. As it is he simply refuses to take me seriously—treats me as a little girl who doesn't know what she wants—and I'm sick of it!' Her voice had risen slightly, and Jenny felt her anger evaporate. You couldn't feel angry at someone you felt sorry for, even though they were rather tiresome.
