Home is Where the Heart Is (3 page)

"I did tell you, I put the post in."

"Granted, but you didn't mention you'd been tampering with my papers—I can't find a blessed thing."

"It was in a deplorable mess. I really must have a word with Polly."

"That won't do any good. Polly knows better than to touch my study. It's my domain and I'll thank you to leave it alone in future."

Lindsey swallowed hard. "Very well, I'm sorry—
Is there anything else, Mr. Kirkby?"

There was the vestige of a twinkle in his eyes. "Don't you think that's enough for one morning or are you a glutton for punishment? Look, I appreciate your desire to help; it's most
commendable, but you'll find it easier all round if you just stick to the jobs you were asked to do in future." He went into his study but reappeared a moment later to say,

"You can add flower arranging to your list; you've got quite a knack, I see. I'll keep that vase in here providing it doesn't leak all over my precious papers." And then he disappeared again.

Lindsey smiled as she resumed her dusting. She felt that she had won a slight victory after all. Her simple flower arrangement had evidently mellowed him.

Lindsey stood outside the shopping precinct at Barford. It was one of those crisp, bright January days with an icy nip to the air that made one's fingers tingle. She inhaled deeply. It was exhilarating.

She was glad Simon Kirkby had allowed her to drive the red Mini, affording her a certain amount of freedom. It seemed to be the one placebo. Thank goodness she had bothered to take her test when she had been in England for a secretarial course all those years ago. It had certainly paid her to keep up her licence too.

This job was already proving to be exacting. The chief problem was that she was housekeeper in name only. Everyone was extremely uncooperative, and almost resentful of her presence. Simon Kirkby should have advertised for a Friday Person or general factotum, she thought grimly.

She was struggling with her laden baskets to the car park, when
Dr. Andrew appeared from nowhere and hailed her cheerily. She waved back, as best she could, feeling an absurd surge of pleasure at seeing him again. In a few strides he had reached her side, grinning broadly in welcome.

"Hello there, I seem destined to bump into you," He took her baskets.

"I don't know about that," laughed Lindsey, "but you certainly seem destined to carry things for me."

He laughed too.
"Must be in my stars. I better read them when I get back to the flat. Bit parky today, isn't it?"

"I like the freshness," Lindsey said simply.
"That lovely tingling feeling as if you've just brushed your teeth."

Andrew chuckled. "What a strange girl you are! You're certainly different from that Miss Pargiter. She was as sour as vinegar—No wonder the children couldn't stand her."

"Perhaps she had reason to be," Lindsey said generously.

"Oh, I can see you're a nice, kind-hearted creature."

They reached the Mini and Andrew patted the little red car affectionately.

"Hallo Jemima, long time no see. I'm glad to see this little car's back on the road again. It was such a waste, keeping her in the garage. At least Simon's got the sense to let you use her. I was beginning to think he was keeping her for a souvenir."

Lindsey had realised that, "Jemima," had been her employer's wife's car when Susan had cried indignantly that morning, "Oh, why do you have to drive mummy's car?"

Andrew put the shopping in the boot. "And now come and have some coffee so that we can get better acquainted."

"Oh, but I'm officially on duty," protested Lindsey.

"Nonsense!
Come on now—even Simon's not going to begrudge you a cup of coffee."

Lindsey looked at her watch, not wishing to appear too eager. She had just about got time before collecting the children from school. Just an innocent cup of coffee, surely there wouldn't be any harm in that, and she was longing for a bit of companionship.

"Well, thank you, but it'll have to be a quick cup."

Andrew took her arm and led her into the café in the precinct. It was an unpretentious place, with red gingham cloths and plastic cruets, but it was spotlessly clean and quiet. He collected their coffees from the counter, and heaved his rather large frame into the seat opposite her.

"Not much room in these places is there!" He helped himself liberally to sugar, and sipped his coffee reflectively for a moment or two.

"You know you mustn't let my cousin take you for granted. For goodness sake remind him about off duty, for instance, or you won't get any—take my word for it. He's not a bad chap really, I suppose, but he gets so involved with his writing that he's inclined to forget the existence of those around him."

"Well, I can understand that—writing is his work," Lindsey pointed out, and was immediately surprised at herself for making any attempt to defend Simon Kirkby.

"His work, yes, but it shouldn't be his whole life, and it is and always has been.
Since Lucy went, he's been worse than ever—completely oblivious of anything going on around him, and behaves like a bear with a sore head if anyone does try to force him to be sociable for five minutes."

"Yes, I had noticed," Lindsey said with feeling. "Was Lucy his wife?"

"Yes, I find it hard to believe I'll never see her again. The Point seems so empty without her. She was such a vivacious girl —very attractive with masses of dark hair, large soulful brown eyes, creamy complexion, lovely figure. Yes, I could have fallen for my cousin-in-law quite easily at one time…Pity Sue hasn't inherited her looks, although she's got one or two of her mother's less commendable characteristics, unfortunately, such as prefabricating when it suits her own ends, but that's beside the point. Sue misses her mother dreadfully, and that's probably why she's so difficult these days."

So Simon Kirkby was a widower. Miss Porlock at the agency had not been sure, and it was hardly the sort of question Lindsey could ask her employer. It was very sad for the children's sakes, and perhaps it accounted for Simon Kirkby's hardness, although it certainly did not excuse his boorishness.

Lindsey stirred her coffee thoughtfully, disturbing the froth and staring into the little clear pools it revealed, like sky amongst the clouds.

Andrew was studying her intently. "Now you might just be the very person to shake Simon from his apathy and bring him to his senses, who knows. You've got far more personality than any of those other housekeepers he's had, to say nothing of looks."

Lindsey laughed. What a flatterer the man was. "Considering Tommy told me they all looked like the backs of buses and were practically in their dotage, that's rather a back-handed compliment!"

Andrew laughed too. "Young monkey…Tommy loves to exaggerate. They were just older, that's all and of the Harris
tweed and brogue shoes regime. The only thing they had in common with you, besides their uniform, was their hair-style."

Lindsey was annoyed to feel
herself colouring. "Oh, and what's wrong with my hair-style?"

"I didn't say anything was, did I? Very neat and proper and, as a matter of fact, that uniform dress really suits your fair complexion. It looks a great deal better on you than it did on that poor Miss Pargiter…But I don't know what Sonia Vincent will say when she sees you, I'm sure. I'd like to be a fly on the wall."

"Who's Sonia Vincent?" she asked, absently collecting pieces of froth from the rim of her cup onto her coffee spoon.

"The only other woman who has ever been in Simon's life—Lucy's greatest pal and crony.
She would do anything to get Simon to marry her…Go on, lick that spoon. I can see you're dying to. No need to stand on ceremony here, you know…It's not the Savoy!"

But Lindsey ignored his witticism, and letting the spoon clink back into her saucer, she said, "You were telling me about Sonia Vincent."

"So I was—Well, you'll meet her before long, I shouldn't wonder. Her mother lives locally, but Sonia works in London and is away a good part of the time. She's a model—very glam and doesn't she know it!"

"Oh," said Lindsey in surprise. "And does
Mr. Kirkby come out of hibernation when she's around?"

"You bet he does—Sonia makes sure of that. She winkles him out of that study and forces him to notice her. It's quite amusing to watch."

It sounded nauseating. Lindsey thought she knew Sonia Vincent's type, and found herself hoping that Simon Kirkby could recognise the difference between genuine and superficial charm. He needed someone understanding and patient, both for his sake and the children's. She was surprised to find herself thinking along these lines. After all, why ever should it matter to her?

Andrew set down his empty cup.
"Cigarette?"

"Thanks." He lit it for her and they smoked in silence for a few moments. Lindsey wondered idly if he took all his cousin's housekeepers out for coffee, or if she was privileged.

"And now you can tell me all about yourself," Andrew said suddenly. "I'm intrigued with you, you know. I sense some mystery—a broken romance perhaps? Whatever is a girl like you doing in a job like this?"

"It's the work I'm best suited to, and I liked the idea of living with a family," Lindsey replied promptly.

Andrew hooted with laughter, "Some family! You obviously didn't know what you were letting yourself in for—a couple of wild, unruly kids and a morose professor. What a girl you are. And the romance?"

Lindsey laughed. "You must be psychic! As a matter of fact you're right, I have got a boyfriend, but I can assure you there's no mystery about it. We're just having a period of separation for a few months that's all, because I for one don't believe in rushing into marriage without thinking about it carefully first."

"Well, while you're thinking, is there any reason why you shouldn't be free to have the occasional date with me?"

"Only if your cousin forgets to give me any off-duty."

They laughed and Lindsey deftly threw the ball back into his court, before he ferretted out any more information about her.

"And you—what about you,
Dr. Kirkby? Are you a doctor of medicine?"

"Yes, but actually I do research in the path lab at the local hospital here—
Surprised?"

"Not really, you've obviously got an enquiring mind, but then surely you should be just plain mister?"

"Touché. It's been a sort of habit with the locals to call me, 'Dr' ever since I qualified. It tickled them pink I reckon, because I was rather a rebel as a schoolboy; always up to some kind of mischief. Mind you, to be fair, I do help out in emergencies, deliver the occasional baby, dress a wound, etc."

"It's a wonder they trust you, knowing your past reputation! How come you're free at this time in the afternoon?" she asked curiously, stubbing out her cigarette end carefully into the large glass ash-tray provided.

"Oh I've had a few days holiday owing to me—a bit of off duty you know. That's how I was able to meet your train." He leant towards her. "You know I've got a feeling we're going to get on famously together. I'm determined not to let you remain incarcerated in that chilly mansion more than you have to. Tell you what; I'll take you out to dinner when you have a free evening, show you off to the locals. There's nowhere very exciting round here, unfortunately, although I believe `The White Swan,' at Cambrook is quite good since there's been a change of management."

Lindsey took all his flattery with a pinch of salt, but at the mention of Cambrook, she found it hard to conceal her interest.

"Cambrook? That rings a bell—is it far from here?"

But before he had a chance to reply, the door burst open and there stood Susan, hat in hand, coat undone and decidedly breathless.

"Hello Uncle Andrew. I saw the Fiat in the car park and guessed you'd be in here…" Her face fell, as she suddenly caught sight of Lindsey. "Oh, what are you doing here?"

"That was precisely the same question I was about to ask you young lady," Andrew said sternly. "Miss Meredith was going to collect you at four o'clock, and it's now only half past three, so what have you got to say for yourself?"

"Oh don't be cross, Uncle Andrew. They let us out early so I came down to the shops instead of hanging round the gates. It's freezing cold…Can I have a coffee?" She took his arm and smiled up at him with all the feminine guile she possessed.

Andrew bought her coffee and a cream doughnut, and Susan tucked in.

"This child's always hungry and she certainly knows how to get round me."

"Obviously—
You'll have to be quick, Susan," Lindsey told her briskly. "It's almost time to meet Tommy."

"Oh, I'll stay here with Uncle Andrew." Susan took a great bite of doughnut and then licked the cream from her fingers with relish.

"Sorry, Sue. I've got to go too."

Susan looked sulky. "I've told her I don't want to be collected like a wretched parcel. Katy Browne's father can give me a lift to the cross roads, and I can walk from there."

Andrew frowned and jangled coins in his pocket. "Oh don't be difficult, Sue. You know very well your father doesn't like you walking across the heath alone, and you used to grumble when you had to go on the school bus." He waited until she had finished the last crumb and then he rose to his feet. "And now if you've finished, I'm afraid I really must dash."