Rainbow for Megan

by Corrie, Jane

  `Megan, will you marry me?' The question came out quietly, all the more astounding because of its lack of pomposity.

  She stared at him, her wide grey eyes holding a hint of sadness in them. Then her sense of balance took over. She smiled, and this time her eyes echoed the smile. He watched her closely. 'Well, at least that got some response,' he said, answering her smile.

  Megan felt he had not chosen a very good subject in his effort to shake her out of her lethargy, but said nothing. She didn't have to ask why he had proposed. In a way she had been expecting it. His next words confirmed her thoughts.

  `Been giving you a bad time, has he?'

  Megan gripped her pen hard. She knew he meant well, but she couldn't discuss it with him.

  `None of my business?' he gently teased. Then he

  caught her hand that held the pen so tightly, and uncurled her fingers. 'I've a shrewd idea it's very much my business,' he said. 'We were both away that weekend, weren't we?'

  `It doesn't matter,' Megan cut in fiercely, 'what petty-minded people think. All they had to do was check a few facts instead of condemning outright.'

  `So I was right,' he said softly.

  Megan started; too late she realised she had given him the information he wanted.

  `What kind of an engagement ring would you like?' he enquired casually.

  All Megan's pent-up feelings threatened to burst forth. All this was Alain's fault. His sheer, blind, stupid, protective attitude had even embroiled Ray, making him feel obliged to ... Somehow she had to get through to him, to make him understand.

  `Remember what you said a little while earlier,' she reminded him quietly, holding back her impulse to shout out her feelings, 'about not understanding village life until you experience it ? Well, in your case it's so true. I told you about Alain and me, I told you how it was, but you couldn't see it from that angle, and why? Because you didn't belong—you didn't know. You hadn't been around when I was small and big brother looked after me—a habit he's unfortunately never lost. If he had fallen for anyone but Iris, all would have been well, but Iris didn't

  belong either. Like you, she could only see things from a personal angle. If she had had more sense, none of this wretched business would have taken place. And now you!' she said in exasperation. 'I was so sure you would have had more sense than to be bludgeoned into such a ridiculous situation. It will blow over, you know. We've not been ostracised by the villagers, only Alain has this outdated attitude. Now for goodness' sake let's forget it and do some work !'

  Ray's eyes twinkled as he stood surveying her. 'Feel better now?' he asked. 'Having been refused out of hand, as you might say, I shall now go and demand a very strong cup of coffee and proceed to drink myself into a stupor.'

  Megan was forced to grin, but relief flowed over her. She had got through to him. He got to the door and turned to face her again. Lightly he murmured, `You know, Megan, did it ever occur to you that I'm not the type to be bullied into anything—least of all a proposal? You might just think about that.'

  Megan's fingers froze on the keys of the typewriter. She had a nasty feeling she was back to square one.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MEGAN'S days were now filled with the deadline. Friday crept nearer and was upon her without a solution being found. There were now only two days left. In her mind's eye she rehearsed what would happen on Saturday. She would take Chas for his last run, then they would return to the village in time to catch Mr. Lumby's evening surgery. She wouldn't shirk it, or ask anyone to do it for her.

  She finished the last tape, and sat gazing out of the office window. She had contacted everyone, hadn't she? A range of shots rang out and her eyes drifted towards the old spinney. She saw the small figures of men on the hill, and wondered if Alain was there, and suddenly she sat bolt upright. What a fool she was! Why hadn't she thought of that before ! Major Briggs! He trained gun dogs, didn't he? Why couldn't Chas be a gun dog? She would have no difficulty in approaching the Major. He was quite fond of her. He would wonder where she was—he had often teased Alain about swopping loaders, but Alain would have none of it. Her lips twisted; not because he was fond of her, but as he had once said,

  like to keep an eye on her, she'll be wheedling around you to let her take a shot or two, and she knows better than to ask me.'

  She wondered what Alain had told the Major; he was bound to ask after her. That she was a working girl, as he had so diligently told Iris? She shrugged the memory away and went back to the problem in hand of how she could get to see him without running into Alain. Her brow creased for a moment, then she snapped her fingers. 'Got it !' she said out loud.

  Ray, coming in at that precise moment, looked at her in surprise. 'Got what ?' he asked.

  Megan surveyed him with narrowed eyes. She was still thinking. Many of the shoot party ended the evening in the local and often Major Briggs was amongst them; sometimes Alain too, but not often; he didn't have a great deal of time to spare and was usually preparing details for the next day's shoot. It was ideal. All she had to do was go to the local and wait. If not that evening, he would be sure to be there the next. She frowned. She couldn't very well go alone, it would look a bit obvious. She realised Ray was still awaiting enlightenment. 'Would you take me to the pub this evening, Ray?' she asked.

  He grinned. 'I refuse to encourage you,' he retorted.

  For once Megan did not grin, but shook her head. `I want to see Major Briggs,' she said. 'He's at the shoot. He trains gun dogs. Don't you see?'

  He frowned. 'Not quite, but carry on, I'm bound to catch up some time.'

  `Chas !' she said triumphantly.

  Ray remained unenlightened. 'Well, go on. I'm only just entering the home straight.'

  Megan gave an impatient, 'Oh, look ! Chas needs a home, right? Major Briggs trains gun dogs. Now are you with me?'

  `You mean,' said Ray, his brow clearing, 'he might take Chas?'

  `Of course !' said Megan. 'He's intelligent and trainable and only a year old, he can still learn.'

  Ray looked doubtful. 'I shouldn't rely on it,' he said. 'I believe they like them a sight younger than that, but I don't really know. Is that why you want to go to the pub?'

  She gave him a pitying look. 'I've not taken to the bottle,' she said. 'Although goodness knows, if this lead peters out, I might well be tempted !'

  Ray eyed her sternly. 'Not with me around,' he said. 'Right, we go to the pub. I wouldn't hear of you going alone, not in that mood. Besides,' he grinned, 'Iris might be there.'

  `Not to mention Main,' Megan added darkly. `That's why I want you with me, as an excuse, I mean, in case he is there. He didn't take to Chas, and he'd be furious to find me worrying one of his guests about him.'

  `I'm not quite sure,' Ray murmured, 'that I like the "excuse" part, but I think I shall ignore it.'

  This time Megan did grin.

  Ray collected her at eight-thirty, giving her ample time to dash to the kennels and return to change. She would not disgrace him this time, she thought, and wore her one and only presentable linen dress of lime green. Ray, in sweater and slacks, took one look at her and raised his brows. 'We must get together some time,' he said in feigned sorrow. 'Perhaps I ought to go back and change.'

  `Don't you dare !' said Megan. 'You're fine as you are. The typical English gentleman.'

  `Flattery,' he said solemnly, 'will get you anywhere.'

  As Megan had thought, the pub was well patronised by the men from the shoot. They stood around the bar in the lounge, the talk mainly of the day's shoot. During this time not many of the locals used the lounge. Preferring to spend their evening in peace and quiet away from the noisy chatter of the shoot party, they would congregate in the public bar.

  Megan cast an almost furtive look around to see if Alain were present, and gave a tiny sigh of relief when she saw he was not. Ray seated her in a corner of the lounge, and as she looked up, she saw Major Briggs enter. He spotted her at the same time and immediately made his
way towards her.

  `So there you are !' he said jovially. 'Missed you,

  you know. Alain said something about you getting yourself a job.' He frowned as he looked at her. 'You look different,' he said. 'All grown up.'

  Megan smiled. 'It's the dress,' she explained, then introduced Ray to him.

  The Major gave him a sharp stare under his bristling white brows. 'In the shoot ?' he queried.

  `Afraid I don't qualify for the hierarchy,' Ray murmured wickedly.

  The Major blinked as if embarrassed. Ray then asked Megan what she would have to drink, and also the Major. Megan felt a spurt of gratitude towards him; he was giving her the time to have a word with the Major about Chas while he collected the drinks.

  Major Briggs frowned as he watched Ray go up to the bar. 'Seen his face somewhere, you know,' he commented. 'Got a good memory for faces, not so good on names, though. Hallett? Doesn't ring a hell.' He turned to Megan, his bright blue eyes curious. `Shouldn't have thought—' he began, but Megan did not let him finish.

  `I want your help,' she said.

  `Do you, by Jove?' he said expectantly.

  `Yes,' replied Megan. 'Do you think boxers make good gun dogs?'

  His thick white brows lifted at the question. 'Can be,' he said, 'with the right training—why?'

  `Well—' began Megan, then stiffened. Alain had just come into the lounge. She watched him glance casually around the room, and she thought he gave a slight start at seeing her with the Major. Someone hailed him from the bar, telling him they had a pint lined up for him, but it looked as if he had made up his mind to join Megan and the Major. Megan wished she could crawl under the table, but then Ray appeared carrying the drinks. Alain stiffened and turned away sharply towards the bar.

  Megan started to breathe again and continued. 'I know of a boxer that wants a home. He's only a year old and extremely intelligent—would you take him?' she asked breathlessly.

  Once again the Major's brows shot up. He waited until Ray had handed Megan her whisky and ginger and accepted his drink, then muttered, 'Like to help, but retired now, you know. Sold up last year. Matter of fact had a devil of a job placing all the dogs, even so, one or two had to go.' He looked at Megan. `Boxer, you say? Surely won't be all that hard to place, make a good pet for someone.'

  Megan's eyes met Ray's sympathetic ones. The Major didn't know half of it, she thought as she picked up her glass and took a gulp at it. Unaware that he had just sounded Chas's death knell, the Major raised his glass and gave the usual toast. 'Cheers', he said. Megan replied mechanically, then gave Ray a

  reproachful look; her drink contained more ginger than whisky. He was taking no chances, apparently.

  The Major was still curious about Ray, who had not said much up until now. 'Haven't met before, have we?' he said abruptly.

  Ray was about to answer, but was saved the necessity by Main, suddenly standing before them. 'So you haven't met our famous author,' he drawled.

  Megan's fingers gripped her drink. She knew that tone—Main was out to bait Ray. She cast an appealing look at him, but Alain ignored her. The Major looked expectant. 'Meet Vernon Hood, in the flesh,' he went on, 'of whodunnit fame.'

  `By jove!' said the Major, standing up and extending his hand. 'Pleasure, sir, quite an addict myself. Trouble is you fellows don't turn them out fast enough. The wife will be furious she missed this,' he said with twinkling eyes, 'great fan of yours. Er ... tell me ...'

  Ray was well and truly trapped and there was nothing he could do about it. Megan really felt for him. It was all her fault, and for nothing. There was no hope of extricating him, she thought miserably, as the Major launched into reminiscences.

  `Damn clever,' he was saying, and Megan could almost feel Ray squirm. To complete her misery Alain sat down next to her. She was furious with him. He had done it deliberately. She picked up her

  drink and made a point of totally ignoring him, gazing round the lounge, idly watching the groups of men chatting and still going over the day's events. Snatches of conversation could be heard. 'Best day's bag I've ever had ...'

  Megan knew Alain was studying her, but she refused to be intimidated. She was sure she no longer loved him. He was domineering and utterly ruthless; she didn't know why she hadn't seen it before.

  The Major droned on; he was now asking Ray when the next book was expected.

  `I'm not sure I like the new image,' Alain murmured.

  Megan's eyes flashed. He meant the dress, of course. She stared coldly at him, as if he were some new acquaintance getting fresh.

  He met that look with narrowed eyes, and deliberately gave her another slow appraisal. Megan wished she could throw something at him. Her fingers curled round her drink and she drank some more of it.

  `I see you've moved on from cider,' he drawled. `What is it?'

  From past experience Megan knew there was no point in ignoring the question. 'Whisky,' she snapped, `and I don't want another.'

  `I wasn't going to get you one,' he murmured maddeningly, 'not whisky anyway, perhaps an iced

  lime?'

  `No, thank you!' she bit out, and looked at Ray. With great relief she saw he had finally broken loose. `If you would excuse me,' he said, 'I have a habit of working at night.' He looked at Megan and held his hand out. 'Megan.'

  It was not the action, but the way he carried it out. Inwardly applauding him, she placed her hand in his and got up to leave, but Alain was standing in her way. She saw his fists clench, then he stepped aside. Megan let Ray lead her out still holding her hand. She called 'Goodnight,' to all and sundry.

  Once outside, she breathed, 'I'm so sorry, I never dreamed ...'

  Ray squeezed her hand. 'I'm used to it. I don't mind discussing my work, it's flattery I can't take. It's just a job to me. It was unfortunate that the Major couldn't oblige.'

  `No,' said Megan miserably, 'and you went through all that for nothing.'

  `Oh, I wouldn't say that,' Ray said airily. `No, I wouldn't say that at all. Some parts I rather enjoyed.'

  Megan thought about these words later while she lay waiting for sleep. She had a feeling she knew what he meant. The way he had laid claim to her, just by holding his hand out like that, getting his own back on Alain by that one simple but telling gesture. It was as if a subtle but positive challenge had been

  thrown out. And Ray was subtle, she realised with a start, also a very clever man. Not the obvious approach for him, like his plots he would have everything all worked out beforehand. To think he had asked her to marry him! Not that he had mentioned it since, but then he wouldn't. A waiting game was more in his line. Megan wasn't sure she liked the position she was in. Was he serious or not? She thumped her pillows. Of course he wasn't ! The hand pounding the pillow stopped suddenly. Or was he?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE day Megan was dreading came at last. Saturday dawned and she sat listlessly eating her breakfast, at least she attempted to eat it, but gave up after the first mouthful. Her father looked up from his plate. 'Isn't there a shoot on?' he asked vaguely.

  Megan nodded absently.

  `Not joining it?' he asked mildly.

  Megan shook her head. 'Not this time,' she murmured. Not ever, she thought.

  `Oh,' he said, sounding slightly puzzled, but did not pursue the subject, to Megan's relief.

  She hastily started clearing up the remains of the meal. She couldn't ever remember feeling quite so miserable and somehow lost. The day, indeed the whole weekend, stretched endlessly ahead. Her life had been so entwined with events at Clock House, with Alain in fact—now she was cut off, she didn't belong any more. She thought of Ray's words about village life. She sighed as she tackled the washing up. One big family—yet she felt ostracised, like the wandering son of a family who returns to find he is no longer part of the family but belongs in name

  only. He is out of step with them, has missed so much, even in small snatches of news, that he feels a stranger, for he does not know what went befor
e.

  She made an effort to stem these miserable musings. A hobby, that was what she wanted. There would be the evenings to fill now, now that Chas ...

  Her father drifted into the kitchen. 'There's a book I would like from the library,' he said, 'if you're not too busy, that is.'

  Megan was not too busy, in fact, anything but. She was only too happy to be given something positive to do. The nearest library of any size was in Salisbury, ten miles away, and she would take her time, she decided. She knew from past experience that her father would not be needing the book for a day or two; he never left things to the last minute. She could spend most of the day there if she prepared his lunch before she left.

  Salisbury, although a city with a fine cathedral, was still very much a market town. Megan found the book her father wanted, then wandered around the town, mingling with the busy last-minute shoppers. She gazed aimlessly into shop windows, until an empty feeling reminded her that she had had no breakfast and it was close on lunch time. She found a restaurant, but it was crowded with a queue of people waiting for tables. The smell of appetising food failed to arouse any response in her and she made her way

  out, deciding to make do with some sandwiches. These she ate on a seat by the river, watching the holidaymakers stroll along the banks—lovers hand in hand, children rushing ahead of their parents, and being called back from time to time. A child with a small puppy on a lead, being mercilessly yanked along, hardly being given time to sniff or do what it was obviously being taken out to do. Megan shuddered. Why couldn't people realise that harnesses were the things to use with small puppies? That poor creature's neck muscles would have to be strong to withstand much of that kind of treatment. At least Chas would be spared that.

  At the thought of Chas, she lost what appetite she had had, and pushed the rest of the sandwiches back into the wrapping and searched for a waste bin to put them in. She might as well start back. There would be the tea to get, and she would collect Chas earlier this time. They would walk and walk, just wander through the countryside with no special destination in mind—except later ...