by Pamela Pope
She wondered whether Joss Hamblyn liked the countryside, or whether, like Piers, he had no time for dreaming beside a river. Piers would have been looking at his watch, anxious to be going, though he might just have considered a walk through the trees. He had been loose-limbed, the athletic type, wiry beside a man of Joss's stature. Just thinking about him made her feel guilty about doing nothing. He had had that effect on people, making them get up and look busy because his vitality put them to shame. She got out of the car, locked it, and set off down the incline to the river.
There were shouts of childish laughter coming from downstream. She remembered how she had loved to come here as a child and play in the shallows, no amusement better than setting off with a fishing net and jamjar in the hope of catching minnows, a pack of sandwiches for later. Some of the minnows and sticklebacks had found their way into the goldfish pond at home and had actually thrived. Meredith smiled to herself. How far off those carefree days seemed now; before boarding school and university; before Piers. Funny how her time with him had become symbolic, the milestone in her life by which she measured the difference between past and present.
She sat down on a bank and slipped off her shoes. It had been a mistake to come so far. Her ankle throbbed and was swelling slightly again, so she reached down and soaked her handkerchief in the clear, icy water not yet touched by the spring sunshine, and bound it tightly round the sprain. But the throbbing merely shifted to another part of her body, becoming the familiar heartache she thought she had at last learned to control. Joss was to blame. He, of all people, had stated the one fact she had always dreaded hearing, yet he hadn't known Piers personally. It was ironic.
Had Corinne taken malicious pleasure in saying there was something odd about Piers, or had she been speaking the truth? Doubts which had clouded Meredith's mind more than once had now been put into words, and she couldn't ignore them. Nor could she deny the disappointment and anguish Piers had caused her on many occasions. It was true he had always been working to the hilt, sometimes to the point of exhaustion, but he had never asked to stay at her flat when they had had a late night, never attempted to make love to her even though they intended to marry, and she was embarrassed to remember how she had sometimes longed to persuade him. On the day he died, the third postponement of a hurried register office wedding, she had acknowledged that Piers was afraid of marriage, and had been prepared to call it off altogether when he got back from Paris, for his sake, not hers. Perhaps Joss was right, damn him. If she had gone through with it she might already be regretting it, so maybe she had had a lucky escape. It didn't help matters, though, that he had been the one to point it out.
She wandered back slowly by a different route which was easier on her ankle, and she came to the beck. It chuckled over smooth stones, dark as bitter chocolate, dipping deeper to the river at the bottom, and branches lay in criss-cross patterns that the water and wildlife had created. A slippery black shape squirmed up on to a rock, then slithered back into a pool where the water eddied, not appearing again until the beck shallowed. She smiled. It was years since she had seen an otter and it was great to know nothing disturbed him. A bird flew down on to the wet patch where the otter had played, winking at her with a bright, beady eye, and fish incessantly jumped. Gradually the peacefulness of that lovely place seeped into her and she felt able to cope with the rest of the day.
She climbed up through a grove of larch trees which allowed dappled sunlight to brighten the soft earth like a carpet under her feet, and just as she reached the road she heard children's voices again. They were close now, close enough to be round her car, and there was no mistaking the cockney accents. As she came into the open there was a yell, and two boys ran off as fast as they could go, disappearing into the trees like rabbits into burrows. But not before she had recognised Shaun and Gary, the children being fostered by Ellen Munro.
'Come back here this minute!' she shouted, sensing trouble before she had proof of it, but it was a waste of breath. They had no intention of answering a summons like that.
When she looked at her car their reason for haste was patently obvious. Three of the tyres were completely flat, and the fourth was sinking to the rim with a sigh of resignation. Meredith did more than sigh. She shouted at the top of her voice, so angry she felt like using expletives she had never used before in her life. It was probably what they would have understood anyway. There was no movement from the trees, not the slightest stirring of the undergrowth, and only the echo of her own infuriated cry came back to her. She clenched her fists and bit hard on her lips.
There was nothing she could do about it. She walked round the car, investigating to see if there was any more damage, and picked up a green knitted scarf that one of the boys had dropped. She folded it and put it in the top of her bag, wishing another motorist would pull in, but the few car drivers on the road flashed by without a second glance. She felt like bursting into tears, but that would have solved nothing. The only thing to do was start walking and hope she could reach the telephone box about half a mile away before her ankle gave out altogether.
She had intended phoning home to ask her father to drive out and pick her up, but changed her mind. Let Jess take responsibility for his two delinquents. It necessitated getting on to directory enquiries for the number because Joss Hamblyn hadn't been at Eden Farm long enough to be listed, but he was the one who ought to do the running about when those little hooligans were his responsibility.
'What on earth is the matter with you, girl?' he demanded, not liking his lunch disturbed. 'Can't you be out alone for five minutes without calling for help! And why ring me?'
'The vandals you so righteously imported into Edencombe have let down the tyres of my car,' snapped Meredith. 'I don't see why my father should have to use his petrol to come and pick me up, and I can't walk back.'
'I presume you mean Shaun and Gary. How do you know it was them?' Joss asked. 'It could have been any boys.'
'I saw them, and heard them.'
Silence for a second, in which she could visualise his brows drawing thunderously together. Then: 'I'll be there in five minutes,' he said, and slammed the phone down.
She waited by the phone box, catching a glimpse of herself in the glass panels as she closed the door. Her cheeks were flushed, and low branches had dragged pins out of her hair when she walked by the river, setting free long wisps of it and creating something of a bird's nest effect. She hardly looked like the immaculate Miss Paxton who had reported for duty at the offices of Paxton, Smith and Hamblyn that morning, and when she glanced down at the handkerchief still tied round her ankle she knew she was looking a positive wreck. She stared at her reflection in dismay, preparing to do battle with Joss the moment he arrived, but then the most unexpected thing happened. Laughter bubbled up in her for the first time in weeks and she found herself giving way to helpless giggles, which had to be repressed when she saw Joss's car approaching. It wouldn't do to let him know she had seen the funny side of the situation.
'Are you all right?' he asked, anxiously, seeing tears on her cheeks. 'They didn't attack you, for God's sake?'
'Of course not,' she said.
He pushed open the car door from inside and she got in. There must have been a magic quality about the woods that had cast a spell over her, because only a few hours ago she would have been in a foul mood over the immobilisation of her car, but for a short time she had relaxed with childhood memories which had helped her put the devilment of two small boys in better perspective. Meredith Paxton, you're beginning to feel human again at last, she thought, and covered her mouth with her hand as a fresh wave of laughter threatened. There was hope for her yet.
Joss eyed her sharply. 'You look a bit of a mess,' he commented. No diplomacy from this arrogant male. 'Are you sure you're all right?' When she couldn't hold back another giggle the sharpness turned to amazement. 'Have you had any lunch?'
'No, I haven't,' she said, 'but I'm not lightheaded, if that's what you're th
inking. When I saw my car with four flat tyres I was absolutely livid, but I've come to the conclusion it isn't worth raising my blood pressure any higher. I've been taking life much too seriously. If you could have seen those boys' faces when I suddenly appeared! They were like frightened rabbits.'
'They'll be punished,' Joss promised.
'No,' said Meredith, 'let them get away with it this time. I'll phone Ted at the garage as soon as I get back and ask him to do something about the car. Do you think there'll be a third time?'
'Not if I have anything to do with it. And I'm afraid I can't let the boys get away with that kind of prank, whatever you say. You've surprised me.'
'I've surprised myself,' she admitted.
He hadn't shared her humour and he surveyed her critically. 'You were a fool to go walking so soon after a bad sprain. No wonder that ankle's swollen again! Now, tidy yourself up and we'll go to the Crown for some sandwiches before closing time. I haven't had lunch either.'
He gave orders with clipped impatience, trying to put her in her place.
'You sound exactly like Piers,' she said, all thought of laughter evaporating. Piers had never liked a hint of untidiness, and even at weekends he had talked her out of slopping around in a pair of comfortable old jeans. The comparison affected her strangely, and with an abrupt swing of mood she was plunged into a new trough of despair for which she couldn't find an exact reason. 'If you're ashamed of being seen with me as I am you'll have to wait while I use a brush.'
Before he could put the car into gear Meredith pulled the rest of the pins out of her hair. It tumbled free, a thick dark mane that rippled over her shoulders and down her back. With the deftness of experience she slid the brush through it with hard strokes, the bristles singing with the swift movement; then with a tilt of her head the hair swung to her right so that she could gather the weight into her hands and twist it. When strong masculine fingers gripped her wrist, stilling it, she felt as if she was caught in a vice.
'Don't pin it up again,' said Joss.
She turned. The low voice was pitched at a level calculated to weaken her limbs. Before, she had blamed her shoes and the steepness of the road, but this time there was no flippant explanation. She shook her hair back, tucking the front strands behind her ears, and there was a swirling in her head which hadn't come from hard brushing. Somehow she daren't meet his eyes.
'It isn't practical this way,' she protested. 'Piers said I ought to have it cut short.'
'That's the unappreciative kind of comment he was bound to make,' said Joss disgustedly. 'We haven't been in each other's company a day yet, and already the sound of his name is getting up my nose. Is it possible to have a conversation without him coming into it?'
She said nothing, too stunned by his callousness to find an answer, but she moved as far away as possible from him in the confined space and deliberately coiled her hair into a neat topknot in defiance of his request. Joss watched, fascinated. And he laughed.
There was a client waiting for him on his return. It was a girl in a short, tight skirt, with pale lipstick and large ear-rings. She trailed a peevish toddler behind her and carried a baby in her arms.
'He hasn't sent me maintenance for three months,' the girl complained, as Meredith was showing her into the room. 'I shall have to have another solicitor's letter, and it makes me so mad, because there's another slice out of me measly allowance.'
Meredith shut the door sadly, leaving Joss to cope with the estranged wife and grizzling child. She wondered whether she ought to have offered to look after the children while he spoke to her, but miraculously the crying stopped after a few seconds and the only sound was the clicking of the typewriter in reception.
'Mr Hamblyn has a real way with children,' said Betty, coming up behind her. 'And everyone likes him. Isn't it wonderful?'
The poor woman looked quite smitten, and Meredith smiled, not having the heart to contradict. There must be something about Joss she had missed if a person like Betty, an avowed spinster, went limp and soft-eyed at the sight of him.
There was no doubt about it, Joss Hamblyn was an asset to the partnership, whatever her own sentiments might be. She couldn't imagine her father dealing so patiently with clients who brought along noisy children; but then her father was a conveyancing solicitor, mainly concerned with the sale and purchase of property, so he didn't come in contact with life's heartrending problems in quite the way Joss did. Michael Smith, the third member of the practice, dealt with probate and had patience of a different kind with the old folk and invalids so often in need of his services. When it came to sorting out a contested will there was no one better, but Joss was the one who had had experience of lawsuits and needed a special kind of understanding to judge the pros and cons of marital distress. Perhaps that was why he had never married.
It was halfway through the afternoon when Shaun and Gary appeared, dragging their feet and not too happy about being summoned to the office. Both wore grey school trousers and pullovers, but the younger boy was huddled into a parka which was much too warm for the mild spring day.
'Why haven't you been to school?' Joss asked, making them stand in front of his desk as if he was a headmaster.
Gary was in a patch of sunlight and his short-cropped fair hair gleamed like a halo round his pudgy little face. Shaun had tight black curls which looked impossible to comb, and his small, pinched features were softened by a pair of soulful eyes which he turned upon Gary, obviously used to taking the lead from him.
'We 'ave been to school,' said Gary.
'Not since lunchtime. I've checked,' said Joss. 'So I want to know what you can tell me about four flat tyres on Miss Paxton's car which was parked by the river.'
'Never seen it,' said Gary.
'Wasn't us,' said Shaun.
Meredith was standing to one side and their eyes slid over to her belligerently. She'd split on them and they wouldn't forget it, they seemed to be saying.
Joss matched their cool denial with calm insistence. 'You were seen, both of you, so there isn't any point in lying about it, I'm afraid.' He got up and came round the desk, putting a firm but kind hand on each boy's shoulder. 'Do you remember the other evening when we were throwing stones in the pond? Each stone made a circle of waves that spread out and grew bigger and bigger.'
'Yes, I remember,' said Shaun, interest livening his face. 'They never ended.'
'That's right,' said Joss. 'And lies are just the same. If you tell one you have to tell another, and they go on and on with no end to them. So it isn't really worth it, is it, boys?'
Gary still looked sullen, but he shook his head. 'No, Mr Hamblyn.'
Shaun echoed him.
'Now, I think an apology is due to Miss Paxton. She was all for letting you get away with it, but I can't allow that. You have to learn to respect other people's property. I've rung Ted Northby at the garage and we've agreed that you will wash cars for him until you've earned enough to pay for having those tyres done. Do you reckon that's fair?'
'Reckon so, Mr Hamblyn,' muttered Gary.
'Sorry, Miss Paxton,' said Shaun.
Oh, yes, he was fair where they were concerned. Meredith had to admit it. The boys, respected him and didn't argue about their punishment. They probably even looked forward to an hour or two at the garage washing cars.
She studied him. His mouth was set in a hard line, firm and uncompromising, and the square jaw showed the strength of his character. Every problem was dealt with according to its merit and she imagined his mind neatly pigeonholed, with correct answers ready for every situation. But that fairness on which he prided himself did not extend as far as Meredith Paxton. The shadow of Piers was between them, not like the ripples on a pond, but a torrent of emotional antagonism that couldn't easily be checked, and his unbiased judgement was missing. Those shrewd green eyes sent a chill down her spine as they rested on her unexpectedly, sensing her scrutiny, and a prickling of unpleasant premonition filled her with disquiet. She was alone in her disli
ke of him, and vulnerable, and that little demonstration of fair-mindedness hadn't impressed her as much as he intended.
'I hope that met with your approval,' he said, when the boys had gone. He hadn't like reprimanding them and made her feel the blame was hers for necessitating it.
'You seem anxious that it should,' commented Meredith.
'They're basically good boys, and I want them to learn the right code of behaviour.' His tone had mellowed. 'I also want to apologise for hurting you this morning.'
He was near her, and a faint smell of discreet aftershave drifted over, disturbing her. Her glance settled on his mouth again, watching the easing of it as a half smile appeared, and her own lips began to tingle. To her consternation she felt herself succumbing to a collection of physically arousing symptoms too complicated to assimilate, and a sudden urge to know if that handsome mouth would feel good against hers had to be fiercely quashed. The need to keep her distance with Joss Hamblyn increased rapidly as awareness of his sexual attraction sounded alarm bells in her ears. What on earth was the matter with her? She must have taken leave of her senses!
'Thank you,' was all she said. But she made a mental note to keep a high barrier between herself and Joss, bridged only by impersonal contact at work. It was the only way she could be sure of immunity to the forceful threat of his personality.
May slipped quickly into June and the weather changed. It became cold and wet, as if summer had decided not to come after all, and the path down to the stables at Combe Lodge became waterlogged. Meredith spent a lot of her spare time there converting the loft into a habitable room where she could take a scribbling pad and pencil, for she intended to write Piers's biography while details and events and precious memories of him were still clear in her mind. But before she could start on the project two things happened which put paid to it indefinitely.
