by Corrie, Jane
`I beg your pardon ?' said Megan.
`Act innocent, too,' Iris went on, swivelling round to face the mirror, then she searched for her lipstick and applied some. 'Trying to make Alain jealous, aren't you ? Well, you're wasting your time,' she placed the lipstick back in her bag.
Megan all but gasped. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black ! 'What about you ?' she demanded. `You've been seeing a lot of Don Lamb lately, haven't you?'
Iris gave a self-satisfied smirk. 'Oh, Alain understands me,' she said, flicking a hair off her shoulder. `He knows I like company, and at the moment he's busy, but he knows he can trust me—which,' she flung Megan a glinting look, 'is more than can be said for you. Simply because he's got this stupid thing of looking out for you, you think you're on a good wicket, swinging it for all you're worth.'
`I beg your pardon ?' repeated Megan.
`Look, drop the innocent act ! Remember me ? I've seen you in action, and a fine fool you made of yourself. I suppose it didn't occur to you that Alain only took notice of you because he wanted to make me jealous, did it? So don't get any big ideas. You're still a menace—a liability, as far as he's concerned.'
Megan's fingers itched to slap her face. She really was the end ! 'So you weren't jealous, then?' she asked.
`Of course not !' Iris said quickly. `If it had been anyone else but you, I might have been. There wasn't anyone else handy, so it had to be you. But I'm warning you, don't start hanging around him in the hope of him repeating the performance, because I can assure you he won't. He's already regretting that night.'
Megan's heart thumped. Had he realised how she felt ? She couldn't bear that. 'Is he?' she queried, as casually as she could.
Iris clipped her bag shut with a snap. 'Of course I can't break a confidence and tell you what he actually said,' she said smugly.
`Oh, don't mind me,' said Megan with sparkling eyes. 'Feel free, go ahead and enjoy yourself.'
Iris's eyes narrowed. She was furious that her words had not had the desired effect on Megan. 'Very well,' she spat out, 'I'll tell you. Amongst other things, he said he'd get more of a thrill holding a wax dummy !'
Megan's relief was so great that she burst out laughing. 'Well, you've nothing to worry about, have you ?' she managed to get out.
Iris was beyond words, and flounced out of the room.
Megan sobered and gazed sadly at her reflection in the mirror. If Iris did but know it she had scored a bull's eye. It was only relief that had made her laugh. relief that Alain had not known how she felt, and
that was all that mattered. If you were in love with someone it was only natural that anyone else's arms would be repugnant. Poor Iris, she was so jealous that she couldn't see how much Alain loved her—she should have known by that remark alone. It was a very subdued Megan who rejoined Ray.
He looked relieved to see her, and bought her another sherry. 'Are you all right ?' he demanded. 'I was going to give you a few more minutes, then come and find you, Ladies or no Ladies. At least you're in one piece. Did she give you a bad time?'
Megan smiled. 'Sticks and stones . . .' she murmured.
`I'm not sure I ought to leave you in this nest of intrigue,' he said. 'I feel partly responsible for what's happened. Would your father object if you joined me for a few days? I could book you in at the same hotel I'm staying in, and we could do a few shows.'
Megan grinned weakly 'That would go down well,' she commented, 'after what's already happened.'
Ray made an impatient gesture. 'For goodness' sake ! It's the twentieth century ! Don't tell me your father sides with Drew in his antiquated views of making me the villain of the piece.'
`Of course he doesn't,' she replied hastily. 'In fact he's more up to date than Alain in that respect. You know,' she said musingly, 'I never thought I would say that of Alain.'
Ray took a drink of his beer before answering. 'But
you won't come anyway. Because of Drew?'
`No. But not for that reason,' Megan answered slowly. 'It's not that I don't appreciate your kindness,' she continued soothingly. 'I've hardly the wardrobe for a London visit, and I wouldn't enjoy it anyway. I'm just a country mouse when all's said and done.'
He eyed her speculatively. 'Why,' he demanded, `do you call it kindness? Almost as if you felt I were patronising you. I'm not, you know. I wouldn't care a damn what you wore, and I'm sure you know it.'
Megan felt tears spring to her eyes. She put her hand over his. 'Oh, Ray,' she said.
He caught her hand and gave it a squeeze, then grinned. 'I'm not helping, am I? he said gently. 'Well, I won't press the point. Trouble is, young Megan, I'm getting a sight too fond of you, and,' he added meaningly, 'it has nothing to do with Joanna. So I'm giving you fair warning.'
As Megan waved him off later, the depression she had felt hovering about her all evening settled on her. Only too well did she understand Ray's warning. If she had been heartfree, he would have fitted the bill nicely, she thought sadly. He had the same sense of humour and was all one could ask for in a husband.
She tried to imagine life as his wife, and found it utterly inconceivable. Perhaps in time, she told herself, when her heart had got used to the empty ache each time she thought of Alain. She sighed, and
started to make her way to Mrs. Jones'. She would begin to wonder whether she was coming for Chas or not that evening, if she didn't get there soon.
Her thoughts reverted to Ray, and she realised with a tiny jerk that he had assumed Alain's role. He felt responsible for her, as Alain had, in fact still did, but Ray was prepared to go as far as marrying her. Megan knew a moment's rebellion. Would she go through life always being someone's responsibility?
What was there about her that brought out this protective instinct ? Her height ? Well, there was nothing she could do about that. Was she too soft? She opened the bungalow gate. She didn't think so. Hadn't Alain told her she was outspoken, and chided her for being as nervous as a .kitten ? Perhaps when she was older. For goodness' sake, she thought as she rang the bell, when would she qualify for adult status?
There was an appreciable pause before Mrs. Jones answered. This was unusual; normally she was hovering in the hall so as not to keep Megan waiting. Megan frowned. She knew she was later than usual, but not all that late. Perhaps Mrs. Jones had given her up for that evening and gone to bed early.
Megan felt contrite. She didn't want to disturb her, knowing how slowly she had to move. She bent down to the letter box and called through it. 'It's only me, Mrs. Jones. I'm afraid I'm a hit late, would you like to leave it tonight? I'll take him out first thing in the
morning for you.'
Mrs. Jones' wavering voice reached her from her sitting-room. 'I'm just coming, dear.'
A few minutes later she opened the door, and although she turned away almost immediately to call Chas, who had also apparently given Megan up for lost and was snoozing in front of the fire, Megan saw that Mrs. Jones had been crying.
`Is everything all right ?' Megan asked softly.
At the gentleness of the voice, Mrs. Jones hastily wiped her eyes, which had started to moisten again. `So stupid really,' she murmured. 'I'm sorry, dear. I thought you weren't coming, so I indulged in a few tears.' She shook her head hazily. 'No, I didn't mean I was crying because you hadn't come. I didn't think I would be disturbed, if you know what I mean.'
Megan nodded. She did know what she meant. She didn't want to pry, but wondered whether there was anything she could do. 'Just feeling a bit off colour ?' she enquired. 'I think a good cry works wonders, you know, I often indulge myself.' Arthritis, Megan knew, was a very painful affliction, and it couldn't always be easy to keep a stiff upper lip.
Mrs. Jones gave her a wan smile, and Megan noted that she hadn't attempted to get Chas's lead. She took it as an indication that she would like her to stay a while and talk to her, and was only too happy to comply. 'I've plenty of time this evening,' she said
brightly. 'My boss is off to London and
I've been given a few days off, so I'm what you might call a lady of leisure. Shall I get us a cup of tea?'
Mrs. Jones' eyes were suspiciously bright again, and she nodded. It was not the first time Megan had carried out this office, and within a few minutes had the kettle on and the tea things ready. Chas, now aware of her presence, followed her hopefully around the small kitchen. 'Later, boy,' she told him, meeting those entreating brown velvet eyes. She knew the matter was not urgent in that sense, for Chas had the run of the back garden for all his immediate problems.
`It isn't,' said Mrs. Jones, as Megan came in with the tea tray, 'as if I'm not grateful. It's just that it presents so many problems, but I did promise, and I know it's for the best really, but ...'
Megan handed her a cup of tea. 'You drink that first,' she ordered, 'then start at the beginning. We've plenty of time.'
Giving her a grateful look, Mrs. Jones did as she was told. Then when she was nicely settled back in her chair, she began to explain the cause of her dilemma.
`It's my sister, you see,' she began. 'She lost her husband about three months ago.' She frowned, and pushed a wisp of grey hair back into its bun. 'To be honest, I had hoped she had forgotten her promise when I lost my Albert. We'll set up house together,
she said, if I'm left alone too. No sense in running two separate places. She hadn't room for me, you see, before. Her husband suffered from a heart disease for years and slept in the spare room so that he wouldn't be disturbed.' She sighed. 'Well, now she's written and asked me to join her.'
`And you don't want to go ?' asked Megan. 'Where does she live?'
Another sigh accompanied her answer. 'London.'
Megan could well understand Mrs. Jones' reluctance to pull up roots from a sleepy little village like Meldham and try to settle down in London. 'Can't you get her to come here ?' she asked.
`If only I could,' responded Mrs. Jones. 'There wouldn't be any problem. But I'm afraid it's out of the question. She's very active, you know. Of course, she's years younger than me. Does a lot of charity work, helps with the Red Cross, does a stint at the hospital twice a week. I couldn't very well ask her to give all that up, could I? It's not as if I could offer her much of the same kind of life. She would hate it, and besides, she has so many friends she would have to leave.'
`But you have friends too,' Megan said gently.
Mrs. Jones smiled at her. 'Yes, dear, but to be honest, no special friend, and I can hardly say I'm a great contributor in doing good works, and Barbara is. Besides,' she said quietly, 'I have to face facts. The
time will come when I won't be able to get around as much as I do now. Barbara knows that, that's why she wants me where she can keep an eye on me. It will have to come sooner or later, so I might as well be sensible about it.' She sighed and looked at Chas sitting, seeming to drink in every word, with his head cocked on one side. 'It's Chas I'm worried about. You see, I can't possibly take him with me. Barbara has two cats, and she doesn't care for dogs. I've thought and thought, but can't find anyone who hasn't already got a dog, and if they haven't, could afford to keep him, let alone give him the walks he needs. I'm afraid that's why I was so upset, I couldn't face the idea of ...' She couldn't go on for a moment or two, then gulped and continued, 'I didn't want to worry you with the problem, especially as I know how Mr. Drew feels about him, and he's not been exactly approachable lately. So don't think I expect you to help me out, dear, I quite see your position, but it has helped talking about it.'
Megan decided to forget the remarks about Alain, and the fact that Mrs. Jones had unconsciously linked them together again. Her mind was busy with the latest catastrophe, and it was a catastrophe if she read Mrs. Jones' remarks right, of what would probably have to happen to Chas if a home couldn't be found for him. 'No,' she said abruptly. 'He couldn't be ..
Mrs. Jones patted her arm. 'I'm sure there'll be someone. That's really how I came to have him, you know. You probably won't remember the Thorntons. Bought him as a Christmas present for their children; same old story, of course, they found out that puppies grew up. I saved him then, and someone else will do the same, I'm sure.'
As Megan walked Chas round the recreation field, she wished she could echo Mrs. Jones' words that someone would turn up. Who would take on a dog that size? As Mrs. Jones had said, the problem was twofold, the feeding and the walking. If only ...
She shook her head; the idea simply wasn't feasible, her father couldn't help the fact that he had an allergy to fur. Megan would have loved an animal of some sort, dog or cat, but it had been out of the question. She thought of Ray, and quickly dismissed that idea as well. If he'd wanted a dog he would have had one. She knew he often worked in the evenings, he wouldn't want the responsibility of taking him out each evening. Even if Megan offered to do it for him, there would still be the problem of what to do with him should he decide to dash up to town as he had just done.
Joanna? Her expression brightened for a second, then clouded over again. She, had spoken of getting a job, not to mention visiting her brother more often, so it was no go there either. Of Alain, or even asking
his help, the thought was instantly dismissed. As Mrs. Jones had so aptly put it, he was unapproachable these days, and she wouldn't ask him anyway, not as things were.
`Don't you worry, Chas,' she assured him as he bounded up full of the joys of spring to join her once again. 'We'll find someone, I know we will !'
CHAPTER NINE
MEGAN paid a visit to the vet the next day. If anyone would know who was likely to take Chas, he would. She drew a blank, and was given the depressing news that he was searching for a home for a young labrador at that precise time and there had been no takers so far.
Later that day, Mrs. Jones told her that there wasn't any immediate rush. 'I've only just put the bungalow on the market,' she said, 'and these things take time. Old Mr. Cameron spent months trying to sell his last year. If things get desperate we can always advertise, although I'm not keen on that. You never know what kind of people they are, whether they're suitable or not.'
Megan heartily endorsed these sentiments. She, too, would like to know where Chas was going.
Time, however, she discovered, was something they did not have, as an agitated Mrs. Jones unhappily pointed out the following morning. 'I wouldn't have thought it possible,' she said. 'Normally these things take months. I've just sold the bungalow to a couple who called this morning. They decided on the spot.
What's more, they offered cash,' she wailed, 'so there's no hold-up. They want to move in on the twelfth, and that only gives us nine days. It wasn't,' she said miserably, 'as if I could ask for time to check their credentials, they're friends of Mr. Browne.'
Megan's heart sank. Finding a home for Chas was hard enough, without having a time limit tagged on it. 'Couldn't you have asked for a couple of weeks? I mean, surely they can't expect you to get things settled in that time.'
`I did try,' she answered, 'but they have to leave their home on that date. It's a vicious circle, the people who bought their property insisted on that date. I couldn't very well ask them to put up at some hotel, especially when they know I have somewhere else to go, and I'm afraid the price was a very good one. I hate to sound mercenary, but you know these days every little bit counts.' She sighed. 'I suppose we must put an advertisement in the paper.'
`No,' said Megan. 'Not yet. I've just had an idea. I don't know why it didn't occur to me before, but I've only been considering local people. I know a young couple on a farm in Devon and there's an outside chance they might take him. I can but try, anyway.' She thought for a moment or so. 'I might have to borrow Chas for a couple of days, if that's all right. I'll pop down for the weekend and take it from there.'
As she hurried home, Megan thought of Mary and Kevin. They would be absolutely ideal, she couldn't think why she hadn't thought of them before; but she must not count on it. As she had told Mrs. Jones, it was worth a try.
Mary Gardner, now Granger, having marr
ied a farmer from her home town, Tiverton, had been a good friend to Megan in her earlier years. Her summer visits to her aunt in Meldham had brought them together, although her visits were too few and far between for Megan's liking, as Mary only visited her aunt during her school holidays for a couple of weeks. Megan had gone to Tiverton for her wedding three years ago.
She felt a pang at the thought; Alain had driven her down there, having been invited himself. She had been sixteen then, and Mary eighteen. The girls had had one thing in common at that time, a domineering aunt ! And they would often compare notes. Megan had suspected that Mary also had a soft spot for Alain, a crush it would have been called in those days, and she wondered if that had been the original reason Mary had tagged on to her at the start of their friendship. But as time went by, the girls really became firm friends.
When she got home, Megan rang Mary. 'Can you put me up for a night ?' she asked, after the usual enquiries after everyone's health.
`Of course we can !' Mary said indignantly. 'It's about time you paid us a visit. Do you know Ian's two now? It's odd, really, you ringing like this, we were only talking about you a week or so ago. Can't you make it a week?'
Megan carefully explained that she was now a working girl, and she would tell her all about it when she saw her the next day. Putting the phone down a little while later, she gave a sigh of relief. `So far, so good,' she muttered. 'It's up to Chas now.'
Having related the story of Chas's plight to her father the previous day, Megan was a little disconcerted to find he hadn't heard a word, and she need not have bothered. She had suspected his mind was elsewhere; he had a genius for looking interested and concentrating on an entirely different subject. She decided there was no point in ploughing through it again, and just mentioned the fact that she would be going to see Mary the next day and stopping the night.
`Does Alain know?' he asked vaguely, correcting a line of writing.
