by Corrie, Jane
Apart from the misery of worrying about Alain, Megan still had the worry of Chas on her mind. Now there was less than a week to find him a home. When she collected him that evening, she was forced to agree that the time had come for the last plan to be put into action. 'I should be able to get it into Friday's Echo,' Mrs. Jones said.
Megan then told her about Mrs. White's niece. 'To be honest, I didn't quite like the sound of her, but you never know.'
Mrs. Jones frowned. 'I think I know who she means. They have a place in Wroxford. They buy and sell things, I think.' She shook her head. 'I don't think so, dear, do you? I've a feeling he would soon be up for sale.' She looked quickly at Megan. 'I've
been thinking,' she said quietly. 'He might be better off, you know, if we ...'
Megan started. 'No! she said quickly. 'It's unthinkable. Please don't do anything yet. Mr. Hallett's back tomorrow. He might know of someone, and he did take to Chas, you know.'
Mrs. Jones brightened. `If only he could help !' she breathed. 'Oh, that reminds me. Did you see his photograph in the daily paper? I meant to show it to you in case you missed it, but worrying about Chas put it out of my mind.' She limped slowly over to a table and picked up a paper, then rustled through it to find what she wanted. 'There,' she said. 'Doesn't he look distinguished? He was at some dinner at the Savoy.'
Megan obligingly looked. There was Ray, with the usual smile amounting to a grin, shaking hands with a portly-looking man. Beside him stood Joanna, resplendent in an off-the-shoulder evening gown. The photograph didn't really do her justice, Megan thought, it was like those society photographs, with no trace of personality shown.
`She's lovely too, isn't she?' Mrs. Jones said. 'I expect he meets a lot of women like that.'
`She is lovely,' agreed Megan. 'I was just thinking the photo didn't do her justice, it makes her look cold somehow, and she's a sweet person.'
`You know her, then?' queried Mrs. Jones.
`His sister,' Megan replied.
`Oh, isn't that nice !' enthused Mrs. Jones. 'I expect she's awfully proud of him, don't you?'
Megan assured her she was.
At lunch time the next day, Megan had a visitor, or rather two visitors, if a small boy of about nine could be so called. On answering the door she found a woman standing on the doorstep, one hand holding on to the collar of a small boy who put her in mind of the 'William' books she used to read in her youth, and examining the old copper lamp hanging on the porch wall with the other.
Megan hardly needed to ask their identity. 'Aunty said you'd be the person to see about the dog. Er ... free, I understand,' the woman said. She yanked the collar of the squirming boy. 'Loves animals, don't you, Jack?' she threatened him, sensing Megan's reluctance to answer.
"Course I do,' answered Jack. 'Can I go and play now?'
`Er—won't you come in?' Megan invited politely, feeling dreadful. They had obviously come by bus and it was no mean journey, all for nothing, for she was more determined than ever not to let Chas loose in that menagerie.
The woman nodded affably and adjusted her loosely-wrapped coat, then pushed the boy in front of her. `I want you where I can keep me eyes on you,'
she said. 'Now don't touch anything, and follow the lady.'
Megan led them through to the sitting-room, thankful for the fact that her father would not appear unless called. Then, seating the woman, she started to explain. 'I shall have to take your name and address. You see, someone else is interested,' she lied, `and it's a case of first come first served, if you see what I mean ...' she broke off, having spotted out of the corner of her eye the boy wandering about picking things up and examining them, then replacing them, and going on with his inspection. She carried on, 'I'm terribly sorry you've had the journey for nothing, if I'd known you were interested...' she stopped, finding concentration hard as Jack was now holding an extremely delicate porcelain figure in his grubby hands. She couldn't bear the suspense. 'Er—perhaps your son would be happier in the garden?'
She closed her eyes at the sudden bawl of, 'I warned you to keep your hands to yourself, didn't I? Just wait till I gets you home !'
Opening the french windows and seeing the figure safely returned to its niche, Megan invited him to take the air.
`So,' she continued, 'if they decide they don't want him, I'll let you know.' She searched for a piece of paper, then for a pen, and said, 'If you would give me your address?'
The woman was disappointed and looked it. `Bulldog, wasn't it?' she asked.
`Boxer,' corrected Megan. 'Quite a large one,' she said hopefully, hoping to discourage.
It had the opposite effect. The woman visibly brightened. 'Perhaps they'll find him a bit of a handful. Have to be well off to keep a dog like that, wouldn't you? Good pedigree, too, I'll bet.'
Megan realised she was already pricing Chas for the resale. She handed the paper and pen to the woman, and idly looked out of the window while she waited for her to supply her address. Suddenly she started. Really, for a boy who loved animals the child was behaving in an extremely odd manner. She watched as he carefully selected stones to throw at the blackbird perched on the stone wall facing him. Megan hoped he was a rotten shot.
Five minutes later she thankfully ushered them off the premises, and sank down exhausted on the nearest chair.
At the dinner table that evening, Megan watched her father as he contentedly ate his meal, and asked a few desultory questions, not really concentrating on the answers, and thought how lucky he was. He lived in a world of his own. Some people might think it selfish, but when it came to the crunch he would emerge long enough to offer help. At least his way of life was a surety against heartaches. Yet he had not
escaped unscathed. The loss of his wife after what was only a comparatively short time after their marriage had hit him hard. Megan frowned. Was that why he had shut himself away as he had ? There had been no one else for him. She swallowed. Would Alain do the same? The thought was too painful to dwell on, and she turned to her other problem. Ray would be back by now. She would go and see him when she had cleared the dinner things. He was the last ditch, and if he couldn't help ...
Ray was delighted to see her. 'I must go away more often,' he teased after he had let her in. 'Mrs. White surpassed herself in the cuisine line, and now you've come to join me in an after-dinner drink. No, I insist,' he murmured, ushering her into the lounge.
`Oh, dear,' said Megan, accepting the sherry he gave her. 'You make me feel awful. I'm on the scrounge.'
`Well, scrounge away,' he said, smiling. 'What's the problem ?'
Megan launched into the sad tale of Chas. Of her dash down to Devon and its result, of her father's allergy, of her not so delightful visitors that very afternoon, in fact everything. Then she sat looking hopefully at him. 'I don't suppose it's remotely possible you can suggest anyone? I do understand it wouldn't be convenient for you to have him, but if you did know of someone ...' She sighed. 'There's
so little time left.'
Ray indicated a chair for her, and sat down himself when she was seated. He gave a wry grin. 'I'm a drop-out, remember, from past society, and have no wish to renew old acquaintances. As a last-ditch help I'm afraid I'm not going to be of much use.'
She felt contrite. She ought not to have bothered him. 'Not to worry,' she said lightly. 'As I've said on countless occasions to Mrs. Jones, something will turn up, only,' she added sadly, 'it never does.'
`I only wish I could help, but short of offering to take him myself, which is just not convenient, I can't see a solution. How long have you got?' he asked.
`Five days,' said Megan with a sigh. 'Trouble is we can't very well advertise now; if we do, the Wroxford clan are bound to spot it. There can't be two boxers needing homes in this vicinity.' Then, seeing Ray frown, she pulled herself together. It wasn't his fault he couldn't help, and she changed the subject by asking how his London trip had gone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT was back to work on Thurs
day and Friday for Megan. At the weekend, she helped Mrs. Jones with the packing. Her sister had arranged everything at her end, and the removal van was due to call on Monday and a car had been hired to convey Mrs. Jones to her destination.
By Sunday at tea-time everything was packed, apart from items in use until the last moment; Megan had arranged to have Monday morning off so that she could assist with the last-minute packing. The subject of Chas was studiously avoided by both of them, although it was never far from their minds, especially as he followed them from room to room, his naturally furrowed brow even more furrowed as he tried to work out the implications of the strange goings-on.
Only once did Mrs. Jones attempt to bring the subject up and Megan interrupted, 'Don't worry, he'll be with me. I'll let you know where he goes.'
This sufficed for a while, but when Megan was about to leave her on Sunday evening, she suddenly said, 'I have no right to leave you with the problem
of Chas—you've done more than your share, dear, and it's my responsibility. I want you to promise me something. If you still haven't found a home for him in a week's time you'll take him to Mr. Lumby. They say it's quite painless, you know,' her eyes moistened. 'I'm a dreadful coward, I should have gone ahead with it before now. Perhaps Mr. Drew will see to it for you.'
Megan said nothing. Things were bad enough without bringing Alain into it. Part of her knew that what Mrs. Jones said made sense. If only she hadn't mentioned Chas to Mrs. White ! And if it hadn't been for Alain she would not have done so.
The next day she waved a tearful Mrs. Jones off and with Chas by her side, drove out to a boarding kennels five miles from the village. It was arranged that Megan would visit each evening and take him for his daily run, so he would not feel abandoned. At the same time she had a word with the kennel owner, as it was just possible she could help, but she heard the same story as the vet had told. This time it was a poodle that had been left in the kennels and a home was being sought for it. 'Not the first time it has happened,' the woman said. 'I suppose it's better than turning it loose, but it lands me with a loss, not only for the weeks of board not paid for, but the continued feeding.' She gave Megan a quick look and Megan could guess what was going through her
mind.
`I don't intend to abandon Chas,' she said quickly. `I'm not going anywhere, and I shall be up each evening to exercise him.'
When Ray heard Chas was in kennels, he offered to pay the boarding fees. 'Least I can do,' he said, but Megan wouldn't hear of it.
`It's only for a week,' she said, refusing to think about what was going to happen after that if something didn't come up. She had promised Mrs. Jones, and she wouldn't go back on her promise. The boarding fees were more than Megan had thought they would be, but Chas was a big dog and the price of everything had gone up.
Two days later, as she drove back from her visit to the kennels, she noticed several cars parked outside the Toy Soldier, and realised with a start that a shoot had begun. Special friends of Alain were put up at Clock House, and the rest found either private lodgings or put up at the local. She remembered previous shoots. It had been her job to go with Alain and charge his guns; she swallowed and wondered who would be doing the work this time. Not Iris, apparently. Apart from the engagement news, nothing much had been heard of her, but Megan was out of touch these days, what with working and spending her evenings walking Chas. It was now almost a fortnight since she had spoken to Alain, and even longer
since the harvest supper.
As soon as she got in, she was greeted with the news that Alain had called. Her heart missed a beat. `He mentioned something about a case of cleaning equipment for his gun, he thinks you've got it,' her father told her. 'He's calling back later.'
Megan knew sharp disappointment. A hope that he had regretted his harsh words was firmly squashed. She felt anger sear through her. If he called, she wouldn't see him. She had enough to worry about without having to put up with an aloof Alain. It wasn't her fault he had fallen in love with Iris, why should she take the backlash? Look what he had accused her of ! She was surprised he had even bothered to call himself. Why hadn't he sent one of his employees for it?
`How long ago did he call?' she asked.
`Not long before you came,' her father answered, then gave her a hesitant look over the top of his spectacles. Megan knew what was coming; she was behind with his work, she knew. 'I'll get straight on with it,' she promised, sparing him the necessity of asking.
Mr. Shaw still lingered. 'You're not doing too much, are you ?' he questioned. 'You seem to be doing a lot of dashing around lately.'
Megan felt surprise. Her father usually retired straight after dinner to his study, and only then would
Megan start out to the kennels. She explained about Chas.
`Well, as long as everything's all right,' he murmured before he disappeared again.
Everything was anything but all right, she thought miserably as she started on the latest chapter, but there was nothing her father could do about it, so there was no point in disillusioning him. Remembering the cleaning equipment, she hurriedly searched it out and took the case down to the hall, and put it on the table where Alain couldn't fail to see it.
A short while later she heard the doorbell peal. If it was Alain, she knew, he wouldn't wait for it to be answered but walk in as he always did. She heard the door open and waited for it to close again; he couldn't miss seeing the case. She jumped when the tap came on her door and looked up to find him standing there.
Again she felt that flash of annoyance. Had she no privacy? She bent to her work as she felt his eyes probe her face. 'I don't think I have anything more of yours, have I?' she said coldly. 'I left the case on the hall table, didn't you see it?'
He didn't answer, but his eyes narrowed at her tone of voice. 'Ashamed to face me?' he enquired silkily.
Megan gasped. Why couldn't he pick on someone else? Why did it always have to be her?
`Enjoy your weekend?' he added in that same hateful voice.
Megan's eyes widened in shock. He was determined to rile her. She hadn't much to lose, had she? Her reputation was already in shreds. 'Marvellous,' she said between clenched teeth, then shot him a glinting look under her lashes. 'It's not very gentlemanly of you to remark on it, you know. Now, if you would please excuse me, I have Father's work to get on with, perhaps we could talk some other time.' She knew she had thrown away all chance of denying his unspoken accusations, but she was through with the velvet glove treatment. She watched his lips tighten and bent hastily down to her work again. She was not really surprised to find herself yanked out of her chair and held suspended in air before him.
`Behind with your work, are you? That's what comes of burning both ends of the candle,' he said softly, 'and don't address me as if I were one of your boy-friends, unless you want me to start acting as one.'
Megan couldn't imagine anything worse. She had managed to keep the truth from him so far, but her defences were flimsy. Even now she could feel the warmth of his hands round her slight waist. Her heartbeat increased alarmingly. Put me down, Alain I' ew !' she commanded. 'Boy-friend indeed !'
She hoped her voice sounded scornful. Apparently it did, only serving to bring about the opposite effect to what she had hoped for. She found herself put down slowly, but not released. Instead his arms closed around her and she was held suffocatingly close. `Not good enough for you, eh?' he said softly. 'My, but you're flying high these days, aren't you? Out every night. Of course you have a key, haven't you ?'
Megan couldn't help herself. She pushed him away and had slapped his face before she had time to think. He caught at her shoulders and pulled her into his arms again with a force that stunned her. `As you're a little past the tanning stage,' he murmured, 'this will have to suffice,' and before she had recovered, kissed her. It was a brutal kiss, and it hurt, it hurt deep down inside her, for he had kissed her before, but not like this. She felt cheap, as he had meant her to feel. When he finally le
t her go, he was breathing hard. Vow you know what I think of you,' he said harshly.
There had been no need to rub it in, he had made his point only too well. Megan was utterly shaken, but her misery made her fight back. 'Don't you ever,' she got out in a voice that shook, 'touch me again.' She swallowed, furiously blinking back the tears that threatened to blind her. 'I know you've been hurt,' she got out, and a tiny sob escaped, 'and you're just taking it out on me. Did it ever occur to
you that I've been hurt too? ... And as if I hadn't enough to worry about, you ... you,' she swallowed again, 'someone who might once have helped me ...' She hiccoughed, unable to go on.
If he had even attempted to apologise, Megan would have been lost, but his face had a closed look. Her distress had not apparently touched him. `Beginning to learn, are you?' he said hatefully. 'As you said, once you might have asked for help, and once I might have obliged.' On these hard words, he turned on his heel and left her.
The next day didn't really register for Megan. Ray put up with her unusual quietness and strained features until the latter part of the day, then demanded to know what was wrong.
`If it's that dog that's worrying you, I'll personally take it up to London and hawk it in the streets,' he said.
Megan had been miles away in her bleak world. She blinked and attempted to bring her thoughts back to the subject on hand.
`So it's not the dog,' he pondered. 'Want to tell me about it?'
Megan gulped, but shook her head. 'Don't mind me, Ray, I'm just a bit low, that's all. I'll get over it.'
He walked to the window and stood looking out. `You know,' he said musingly, 'coming here has been
an education. You read of village life and close-knit communities, but you don't really understand, or believe in them, you have to experience them.'
She sensed his meaning, and had a vague awareness of what was on his mind. 'They're just like a big family, you mean?' she said quietly. 'Well, in a way they are. They live side by side from childhood to old age, and there isn't much they don't know about each other.' Except, she thought bitterly, where she and Alain were concerned. Alain had not known her at all.
