by Lucy Gillen
A short note was propped against the mirror on the hall-stand and explained the empty house. Kim made a wry face as she read it. "Kim — Uncle John and I have been invited round to the Slaters' for a drink and a chatter. We shan't be late, dear. Love, Aunt Bess."
"Well, I can't leave you unattended," James told her. "I'll settle you somewhere comfortable, call the doctor and let your aunt know, O.K. ?"
"But you can't do all that," Kim protested. "You'll miss the second act as well as the first and Miss Mellors will be furious. Please — if you'll just help me to the settee in there, I can sit still until Aunt Bess comes home."
"No." He was adamant as he carried her through to the sitting-room and deposited her on the settee. He stood for a moment looking down at her, his expression determined. "For one thing," he enlarged when he saw an argument looming, "I don't trust you to sit still for five minutes once I've gone, and for another I shouldn't think much of myself as a knight errant if I didn't take better care of you than that. Now — where do these friends of your aunt's live, and which doctor do you have?"
"I don't need a doctor," Kim insisted, "and there's no need to spoil their evening as well as yours and Miss Mellors'. I'll be perfectly all right. Please, James."
"It doesn't please James," he retorted. "That ankle needs attention."
"It only needs a cold compress and a bandage, that's all," Kim argued, "and I can quite well do that myself."
"No, you can't, you stubborn little wretch." He sounded exasperated. "You're to sit still while I ring the doctor."
"No !" She reached over and gripped his hand as he prepared to dial, glad the telephone was near enough for her to reach without any undue effort. "He'll think it's — an emergency or something," she protested, "calling him out at this time in the evening. Please don't."
His sigh was deep and resigned and he sat down on the edge of the settee beside her. "You," he told her slowly and with infinite patience, "are as much trouble as the three monsters put together and twice as stubborn. Also you have the advantage in so far as I can turn them over' my knee and wallop them into submission when need be, but a veneer of civilisation and good manners prevents me from doing the same to you, sorely as I'm tempted."
Some glint of wickedness in the light grey eyes sparked off her own spirit and she shook her head, an indefinable warmth flowing through her suddenly and a desire to laugh
at nothing in particular. "Your dubious ancestors," she accused, "are they tempting you?"
"Old Abel Fleming himself," he agreed solemnly. "He wouldn't have let you talk him round."
"But you wouldn't strike an injured woman?" she asked, as his eyes swept over her, fighting wildly with the impulsive urge that wanted him to kiss her.
"Wouldn't I?" He sat facing her, one hand resting on the back of the settee, so close she could feel the warmth and excitement that surrounded him and see the fascinating small lines at the corners of his eyes.
"James —"
He was already leaning over her, his gaze fixed disturbingly on her mouth, when a slight chill betrayed a door opening somewhere and a voice called from the hall. "Kim? The door's open, are you all right?"
She just had time to register the disappointment in James' grey eyes before the door of the room opened cautiously and George came in.
CHAPTER VII
GEORGE had insisted that Kim should stay home the following morning at least, and nurse her ankle. Although it already felt much better and far less painful, thanks to Aunt Bess's ministrations with cold compresses and bandages, it was still quite badly swollen and would not take her weight without a good deal of discomfort, so she was not averse to obeying his instructions.
He had come round the night before, he explained, the minute he had heard about her accident from Eve when he and Fay arrived home. Apparently, since he had said nothing, he had no idea of what he had interrupted, so perhaps James' intention had been less obvious to him than it had been to her. What Eve Mellors had said to James on his return to Linwood was something Kim could not help but be curious about. What would have happened if George had not appeared so providentially, she did not even consider, although she had to admit to sharing something of the disappointment that had showed briefly in James' eyes.
Aunt Bess fussed around and quite obviously was enjoying her nursing duties, and it was only because Kim insisted that she allowed her to get up. As she did not feel in the least ill, Kim said, she could not possibly stay in bed all day or she would get horribly bored; as it was she chafed under the inactivity and welcomed a visit from George during the morning. He was ushered in by a smiling Aunt Bess whose pleasure at seeing him was so obvious that Kim felt quite self-conscious when she realised her reason.
He came laden with fruit and flowers which Aunt Bess took as a further indication of his intentions, and made
signs at Kim with her eyes, that there was no mistaking.
"I'm not ill," Kim protested when she saw his sober expression, for he looked as if he expected to see her at death's door. "I'll be ready to come back to work tomorrow, George, I've only sprained my ankle."
"Are you sure you'll be all right?" He looked genuinely anxious, and Kim thought how Victorian and romantic he looked this morning. No wonder Aunt Bess had been misled. She had not dared mention the trick she and Fay were playing on him for fear her aunt took it seriously enough to start planning.
She looked at him for a moment and wondered if she would be so very surprised if she really did fall in love with George, he was undoubtedly very attractive and he was fond of her, though just how fond she would not like to guess.
He sat on a chair beside the settee where she lay, his grey blue eyes soulful and earnest as he regarded her anxiously. His fair hair was long enough to touch the collar of the corded velvet jacket he wore and a cravat of the same colour flowed down from the collar of his shirt. He looked so much like a Victorian poet and the picture was so deceptive that she could not help smiling, even laughing softly as he looked at her.
"I thought you'd be glad to see me," he said reproachfully. "And I don't know why you have to laugh at me, you hardhearted little witch — stop it !"
Kim shook her head, trying to look apologetic. "I'm sorry, George," she told him, and leaned across to kiss him lightly beside his mouth. "I'm very glad to see you really, it's just that — that you're like two different people and I'm never sure which one is the real one."
He looked puzzled. "Am I?" he asked.
Kim nodded. "One the romantic poetic type that Aunt
Bess sees and one the — the sophisticated George I know best. It's very deceptive, George."
He frowned over it for a moment. "It's very useful," he admitted at last, and joined in her laughter at his honesty. "Anyway," he told her when they were sobered once more, "don't come back until you're absolutely fit, darling. I'd hate you to suffer on my account."
"I won't suffer," Kim promised, "but by tomorrow morning I shall be thoroughly fed up with being an invalid and perfectly capable of managing that short distance along the sea wall to Linwood."
He bent and put his hands either side of her face, kissing her mouth gently. "I'm dying to have you back, Kim love. It doesn't seem the same without you, and I can fetch you in the car, so there's no need to walk. By the way —" he straightened up suddenly as if he had done his duty as a sick visitor and was now returning to normal, eyeing her with his more usual glimmer of impudence, "you certainly upset Eve last night with your little episode, she was fuming when Fay and I got home."
"I expect she was. I feel rather guilty about it," Kim admitted, and explained exactly what had happened, much to George's interest. She did, however, omit the scene he had interrupted with his arrival, since it had no place in the story and could serve no useful purpose except arouse a certain amount of speculation on George's part, perhaps.
"No wonder she was fuming," he laughed. "Eve hates missing anything, even the first act of a play. She likes to make an entrance, you
see, and half way through the play isn't the best time to do that, and the fact that James was playing Sir Galahad to you must have turned the knife in the wound."
"It was his idea," Kim insisted, "not mine."
He grinned down at her.. "Never mind, darling, I believe
you even if Eve doesn't, and she'll never give you the benefit of the doubt no matter how you insist."
Kim flushed, disliking the implication. "There's no doubt to be given the benefit of," she argued, ungrammatically. "You surely don't think I could fake a thing like this, do you?" She extended her injured ankle for his inspection and he winced at the sight of it swollen and bandaged.
"Hardly, love," he told her. "It looks inhuman done up like that." He rose and bent to kiss her again, dismissing the subject with his usual aplomb. "Not to worry, my sweet," he told her blithely, "I'll come for you in the morning and we'll all be back to normal."
George had only left the house a few minutes when the door bell was rung again and a moment later Kim heard Aunt Bess's voice in the hail. She had no difficulty either in identifying the voice of the visitor and found herself smiling automatically and touching her hair to check its tidiness.
Aunt Bess sounded at first surprised and then gently insistent, and a moment later the door of the sitting-room opened and she came in with James Fleming.
Kim, with a welcoming smile all ready, hastily dismissed it when she saw his expression. It was not that he looked angry exactly, more cold and distant, and there was none of the usual laughter in his eyes, only a rather superior chilliness.
"Mr. Fleming has brought your shoe back, dear," Aunt Bess informed her brightly, apparently unaware of her guest's reluctance, "and the basket too, I'm glad to say."
"Thank you, James." She could think of nothing else to say at the moment. That cold unfriendly look troubled her more than she cared to admit and she was glad when Aunt Bess went out of the room and left them alone.
"I hope your foot's better this morning," he said, ignor-
ing her sign that he should sit down and instead standing some distance away, looking stiff and formal.
"Much better, thank you." She indicated 'a chair again. "Please sit down."
He shook his head, briefly and impatiently. "No, thanks, I really had no intention of seeing you. I merely brought your things back."
"I see." This new James she found even more disconcerting than the one she was more used to, and she sought for some reason for the change in him. There was nothing that she could think of that could possibly account for it. Unless he was suffering from a qualm of conscience after last night, or possibly from the effect of Eve Mellors' tongue, although in view of what Kim had seen of them together, it was unlikely that Eve would take such a chance. "It was very good of you to bother with my shoe," she told him, and laughed uneasily. "Actually I hadn't realised it was missing."
"It was no bother," he assured her. "I happened to be passing the spot and remembered your basket must still be there somewhere. Your shoe was still in the hole where you fell." He half turned away, prepared to go without explanation of his manner, and Kim was reluctant to let him. "I'm glad your foot's better," he added. -
"James ! " She let him get as far as the door before she called him and it seemed he turned only reluctantly, one hand still on the handle of the door, as if he had no intention of being detained. "What — what's wrong?"
"Wrong?" He obviously meant to be obtuse, and Kim frowned.
"What have I done?" she asked plaintively. "You're so —so unfriendly you make me feel guilty and I don't know why. Why are you so different? Is it something I've said or done?"
He looked at her for a moment in silence, his face set, then relinquished his hold on the door handle and came back across the room towards her. From her place on the settee Kim felt horribly small and vulnerable, and as she had said, inexplicably guilty, though she had no idea why she should.
"I can't altogether blame you, I suppose," he told her, obviously under the impression he was being generous. "I did rather force the issue by bringing you home."
Kim still looked puzzled. She could guess, she thought, to what he referred, but she was at a loss as to why he was treating her like the villain of the piece. She had had no part in his being there, it had been at his own insistence that he had brought her home, and surely he had started that rather provocative conversation just before George arrived.
"I — I don't know what you're talking about," she told him, on the defensive and ready to turn the tables. "It was you who insisted on bringing me home, and there was nothing in what followed that could cause raised brows, was there?"
He looked slightly discomfited for a second, as if he recalled that brief intimate moment with far less pleasure that she had earlier. "You didn't see fit to tell me that you were going to marry George," he accused, and with such an air of righteousness that, initially, she felt like laughing rather than losing her temper.
So that was it, Kim thought wryly. There was no doubt who his informant had been, of course, and she had probably hinted at all sorts of unpleasantnesses if George found out he had insisted on playing knight errant instead of letting her wait for her cousin to arrive home. It was, she realised, his conscience bothering him, and with typical male reasoning he sought to settle the blame for his near
indiscretion on her.
"I saw no reason to tell you anything," she informed him rather haughtily.
"Oh?" He looked, she thought, a little surprised at her reaction and perhaps even a little disapproving.
"Well — it didn't matter, did it?" she asked, reasonably, she felt.
"No, I suppose not," he agreed, but reluctantly.
Kim looked up at him. "I suppose Eve — Miss Mellors told you about George and me?" she guessed, and he nodded.
"Yes, she did."
Kim was beginning to enjoy the situation, she had to admit. It was so seldom that she had the upper hand, and never before had she been able to make him feel uneasy; more often it was she who was forced-into rather ignominious defeat while he smiled his triumph.
"Anyway," Kim went on airily, "I don't quite see what there is to make such a fuss about. Did you expect me to tell you I was — was supposed to be marrying George, in the circumstances? At what point did you expect me to suddenly make the announcement?"
He looked at her steadily for a moment, and she could see the change in his manner; it showed in his eyes long before he spoke. "All right, Kim, have it your way. I was to blame for bringing you home last night. I was too insistent, I suppose, but I didn't realise — well, I didn't realise how things were or I'd — I'd never have — behaved as I did."
"Wouldn't you?" She knew her manner was almost as provocative as it had been last night and there was absolutely no excuse for her behaving the way she was, but some inner devil of mischief prodded her into it.
The light eyes held hers steadily for a moment, then he shook his head slowly. "If I were in George's place, I'd —"
He closed his mouth firmly on what he would have done and turned on his heel, walking across the room with a stride that spoke of anger and impatience, banging the door closed behind him, so that Aunt Bess looked puzzled when she put her head round the door a moment later.
"Oh, Mr. Fleming's gone," she smiled. "Wasn't it nice of him to bring your things back, dear? I'm so glad I haven't lost that basket, it's rather a favourite."
"I'm glad," Kim agreed absently, and Aunt Bess eyed her speculatively.
"Did I hear the door slam just now ?" she asked, and Kim nodded, but made no attempt to enlighten her as to the cause. Aunt Bess sought a subject she felt more sure of. "Mr. Daley was very concerned about you, wasn't he?" she asked, her eyes gleaming anticipation. "He really feels quite deeply about you, dear, I'm sure he does."
Kim smiled wryly. "George is nice," she said, and Aunt Bess looked disappointed.
"Only nice, dear ?" She looked at her curiously. "Kim, are you all right? You look — I don't know qui
te, a bit down in the mouth is what I mean, I suppose." She came and sat beside Kim in one of the armchairs, seemingly determined to find out what it was had sent James Fleming out of the house in such an obvious bad humour. "Mr. Fleming didn't upset you, did he?"
"He — he was annoyed about something, that's all," Kim told her with a faint smile.
"With you?"
"With me," Kim agreed, seeing the inevitable explanations looming "It's some silly joke that George started and Fay and I took up. Eve Mellors is such a snob and she dislikes me having coffee with them — Fay and George. She was being particularly nasty about a week ago and George thought he'd be funny at her expense, and at mine, as it
happened. He told Eve we were going to be married."
"Married?" Aunt Bess's eyes almost popped out of her head at the idea. "Are you going to be married to George Daley?"
"No, of course not, Aunt Bess," Kim laughed. "No one marries George, he's just not the type — that's why Fay and I decided to keep up the pretence that we took him seriously and teach him a lesson."
Her aunt began to look a little confused at the whole thing, and Kim could scarcely blame her. She also looked disappointed, which was inevitable in view of her plans for Kim and George. "It's rather a mess, dear, isn't it?" she suggested mildly, and Kim could not but agree with her. "But are you sure Mr. Daley was only joking?"
Kim laughed. "You didn't see his face when Fay and I pretended to take it seriously," she told her. "No, Aunt Bess, George is busily trying to find a way out, you can be quite sure of that."
"But all these flowers," Aunt Bess insisted, looking round, "and the way he looks at you — are you sure?"
Kim laughed. "I'm quite sure, Aunt Bess. George always looks and sometimes behaves like something in a romantic novel, but he's strictly a bachelor type, and Fay and I both know it."
"Does Mr. Fleming know, or rather think, you're going to marry Mr. Daley?"
