Home is Where the Heart Is (7 page)

Simon lit Sonia's cigarette and leant back in his chair. Watching the two women, he sensed the antipathy between them. He had never seen anyone stand up to Sonia before, but then he had never had a housekeeper like Miss Meredith before. He realised, with surprise, that he rather liked her. She was no beauty like Sonia, whose rich creamy skin and red-gold hair turned every man's head, but she had a certain poise and cool dignity that wrung a reluctant admiration from him. Not that he would admit this to anyone for the world, of course. On top of this, she was good at her job. The meal had been excellent. Even Sonia had been hard pressed to find fault with it for once.

"Who put that damned thing
there!" Sonia ejaculated suddenly, as reaching for the cream, she caught her bracelet on Lindsey's flower arrangement.

"Flower arranging is one of Miss Meredith's accomplishments," Simon said.

"Indeed, Miss Pargiter didn't have all this paraphernalia cluttering up the place."

"Perhaps Miss Pargiter wasn't artistically inclined." He gave Lindsey an almost imperceptible wink, before extricating the gold clasp deftly. "There we are. No harm done."

Sonia laid a possessive hand over his, making Lindsey cringe.

"Darling, Mummy wants to know if you and the children will come over to lunch on Sunday. She knows how I hate Sundays in Cambrook and wants to
liven things up for me."

"Cambrook!" exclaimed Lindsey, before she could stop herself.

Simon glanced at her in surprise. "Yes, Miss Vincent lives there when she's in Kent. Why—do you know it?"

"Oh, it's just that
Dr. Andrew took me there the other day," Lindsey said hastily.

For a moment, Sonia lost composure. She opened her big eyes even wider. "Andrew took you—but I didn't even realise you knew one another."

"He took me for a drive on my free afternoon." Lindsey said triumphantly. So Sonia was jealous, was she? Was she interested in Andrew as well as Simon? "Cambrook 's quite an attractive village, isn't it? Some of the property seems to be quite new. We came across this perfectly lovely bungalow tucked away down a little lane past the church. Apparently there used to be a house there called, 'White Chestnuts,"' she remarked casually, and waited with bated breath. How strange if Sonia Vincent should be the one to tell her what had happened to the old place.

Sonia drew heavily on her cigarette.

"Oh, you must mean Mary Meredith's old place. I haven't a clue
who lives there now…You remember Mary, Simon? She used to belong to the tennis club before she…Isn't that the telephone?"

Lindsey rose to her feet, inwardly cursing whoever it was for choosing this precise moment to 'phone. "I'll go and see shall I? And then, if you'll excuse me, I'd better find out if the children are getting ready for bed."

Andrew's voice greeted her gaily. "I thought I'd ring to see how you were managing to survive the evening. How's the delectable Sonia? Is she baiting you much?"

"A little, but I'm a bit like a duck."

He chuckled. "Well, I must say I haven't noticed the resemblance, but I do understand what you mean…Lin, I'm hedging. I really rang to apologise for my behaviour on Saturday evening. If I offended you, I'm sorry. After all you did tell me you'd got a boyfriend, and I should have taken the hint."

She laughed. "That's all right Andrew, forgiven and forgotten."

"Well I am relieved—I thought you'd give me the cold shoulder. Does that mean you'll still have dinner with me at the White Swan?"

Lindsey knew she ought to refuse firmly, but instead she found herself weakly accepting the invitation. He was such a pleasant, uncomplicated sort of companion. They arranged it for the following Tuesday evening, leaving it that Lindsey would 'phone if she couldn't manage to get time off.

Lindsey was glad that Andrew had 'phoned, but she just wished that he could have left it until a few moments later. It was ironic to think that Sonia Vincent could quite probably tell Lindsey all she wanted to know concerning White Chestnuts, but the opportunity had gone now—at least for the time being.

Whilst the children were getting ready for bed, Lindsey got out her writing case. She simply had to write to Gavin, but it was so difficult to know quite what to tell him. She sat for several moments her pen poised. In the end, she decided to say that she was staying with some friends whilst Aunt Mary was away for a while. She described Balliam Point and the children. Not that Gavin cared much for children.

When she had finished, she read and re-read the letter, but was not very satisfied with the contents. It said so little. If only Rob had forwarded those letters so that she could have had something to answer, but she was beginning to think he must have forgotten to post them. She just hoped that Gavin wouldn't guess that something was amiss, by reading between the lines. Until she was sure that her father knew about the bungalow she would have to keep the matter strictly to herself.

Lindsey flexed her fingers, wondering idly what sort of ring Gavin would buy her, if she accepted his proposal; something plain no doubt, probably a solitaire diamond. They might even get it in Nairobi when he came to collect her from the airport.

The wedding would be in July or August, so that Rob could be there. Aunty Mary would come too. Lindsey sobered as she suddenly thought, provided Mary had returned from her trip abroad by then of course! There wouldn't be time for much of a honeymoon. It was a busy season, but maybe a few snatched days at the coast—Malindi would be nice —not too hot just then. And then, later on, perhaps she could persuade Gavin to come to England.

Lindsey sighed. If only she could be really certain that she wanted to marry Gavin. Just lately there had been a persistent, niggling little doubt; whatever was the matter with her?

She began to fold the airletter. Gavin was not a particularly patient man as a rule, and, as her father had already warned her, she could not expect to keep him dangling on a piece of string for ever.

A little scene that had been indelibly etched in her memory, returned now with startling clarity. It had been a baking hot day, and Lindsey and her father had been standing on the
verandah of the ranch house discussing things in general. The conversation had somehow got round to Gavin.

"He's a good steady fellow, Lindsey," Edward Ellis had said. "You could do a lot worse. I want you to know that I approve the match and would set you up well, if you accepted him. But don't take too long about it, lass…A man won't wait for ever."

A lizard had run over her foot. She had brushed it off absently. Standing gazing out into the vast expanse of ranch land, dotted with native rondavels, she had thought about spending the rest of her life in Africa with Gavin, and it was then that the seeds of doubt had been sown in her mind.

"It would please me, Lindsey," her father had said, patting her arm.

"I know, dad." And she had turned and walked slowly back into the ranch house, aware that he was watching her. It had been later that same day that she had asked her father to let her take this vacation in England, so that she could quietly think things out.

"Come and say goodnight!" Tommy called impatiently, cutting across her thoughts. Lindsey got to her feet and went along to his room. He was very pink from his bath, and his hair stood up in little blond spikes. He stuffed his comic hastily under his pillow when he saw her. "Sue said that man called you Lindy on the 'phone the other day, but mostly Lin —
What does that stand for?"

"Susan had no business listening to that conversation. It was supposed to be private. Lindy and Lin are nicknames rather like Tommy's short for Thomas."

Tommy shuddered. "Mummy used to call me that when she got cross. Can I call you Lin?"

"Certainly not," said Lindsey, pumping up his pillows.

"Lindy then—that's pretty." He suddenly put his arms round her neck, and pulled her face towards him so that he could kiss her. It was the first time that he had displayed any sign of affection, and she felt oddly touched. His little freckled face suddenly puckered anxiously.

"Merry, you won't go away will you?"

"Of course not, silly—Not just yet at any rate."

"That's all right then," he sighed contentedly and snuggled down to sleep. Lindsey switched off the light.
"'Night, 'night, Tommy. God Bless."

"'Night, Merry."
He blew her another kiss, obviously forgetting what he had said previously that evening about such demonstrations of affection.

Lindsey felt a lump in her throat. These children needed love so badly. Why ever did Simon Kirkby have to choose someone like Sonia Vincent to be his future wife? She was so full of
superficial charm. If he married her, Susan and Tommy would be packed off to boarding school at the earliest opportunity, just as Tommy had predicted.

An inexplicable feeling of sadness swept over her. It was quite true what Tommy had said earlier that evening too. When Simon married Sonia, there would no longer be a place for Lindsey in the household.

Lindsey returned to her own room and crossed to the window. It was very dark outside; not a star in sight. Why ever should all this matter to her; it was none of her concern, she told herself sternly, and, in any case, she would probably be back in Africa long before Simon married that dreadful woman.

But deep down in her heart, she had to admit that it did matter, even though she couldn't understand why. She seemed to see a pair of granite eyes looking into hers with a deep unfathomable expression. Was it because, in spite of herself, she was fast growing to like Simon Kirkby, she wondered in sudden amazement. She gazed out into the blackness of the night for a long time, trying to sort out her confused thoughts.

When Lindsey took Simon Kirkby's newspaper into him the following afternoon, he asked her to stay and have tea with him.

"There's something I wish to discuss with you. We might as well get this off-duty business sorted out here and now, too."

Lindsey smiled to herself at the expression on Mrs. Parker's face when she brought in the tea tray. Lindsey poured the tea, knowing full well that Mrs. Parker would have quite a lot to say to Polly on the subject of housekeepers taking tea with the master of the house. Those two gossiped like fish-wives, jumping to all kinds of false conclusions, given half a chance.

"It would certainly make things a lot easier for both of us if I could have a more regular off-duty period,
Mr. Kirkby," she remarked presently after a rather prolonged silence.

They finally came to an arrangement which suited both of them.

"And now, there is another matter," he said at length, sipping his tea and taking his time about coming to the point. "On Wednesday you said you'd taken a commercial course. Does that mean you're a moderately good typist?"

"Why, yes," Lindsey said, in some surprise. "I have got the usual Pitman qualifications, as a matter of fact."

He rummaged around on his desk and produced a sheaf of papers. "Could you type as well as this?"

Lindsey studied the pages carefully. "Why yes, I should think so."

He leant forward in his chair; for once his grey eyes were full of interest. "The position is this. I'm doing this series of historical articles for a periodical, as you know, and the typing agency isn't altogether efficient. Well, the thing is, I can't afford to wait whilst I find another agency, because I'm rather pressed for time and so, well, I wondered…”

Lindsey could guess what was coming. No wonder he had buttered her up first about off-duty times. She made it a bit easier for him.

"Well, I suppose I could fit in some typing during the mornings, providing I rearrange my timetable, and you don't mind my cutting out some of the other duties." She explained what was necessary.

Simon Kirkby lit his pipe and drew on it slowly, and Lindsey, watching the thin blue spiral of smoke, sniffed appreciatively.

"Andrew tells me I'm a slave-driver, and now you make me think he's right. All right, Miss Meredith, we'll give it a trial, shall we? I really would be extremely grateful." He smiled suddenly, and Lindsey, captivated by the sudden change in him, found herself smiling back.

While Lindsey found him in a reasonably co-operative mood she made one or two suggestions concerning the menus. He nodded thoughtfully.

"Yes, I think you're right, but you must be tactful or we'll have Mrs. Parker threatening to walk out on us, and that would never do—And now, if you'll excuse me, I really must get on with my work."

Lindsey did not go directly to the kitchen; instead she slipped into the breakfast room and sat down for a moment on a hard cane chair to think things out. She wondered if Simon Kirkby had some ulterior motive in asking her to undertake this typing. Perhaps he felt she was underworked, or else he doubted her proficiency as a secretary, and wanted to test her out. Well, she was determined to prove to him just how efficient and competent she really could be. Why she should care what he thought of her she didn't know, but for some inexplicable reason, she wanted to win his approval more than anything else in the world.

Chapter Four

The Saturday post brought Gavin's letters with a covering note from Rob which Lindsey scanned briefly.

"Dear Lin,

Sorry about the enclosed letters. I've been carting them about in my pocket for about a week meaning to post them, and now another one's arrived. Gavin has obviously assumed that you're still staying with me, which is probably just as well in the circumstances.

I've decided to come down to see you next weekend. Perhaps together we can find out what happened to White Chestnuts. I'll give you a ring during the week to confirm it.

By the way, one good piece of news Mrs. Marks is back at last. I 'phoned again last night and was she surprised to hear from me! Apparently they've been staying with her sister in Paris. Says to tell you to drop in on them at Cambrook any time.

It's a nuisance father told you to arrange the financial side of things with Mary temporarily, because my grant hasn't come through yet and I'm practically on my beam ends! Are you feeling generous towards your kid brother, sister dear? Must finish now—Jackie's waiting. We're going to a disco."

Lindsey, delighted to learn about Mrs. Marks' return, picked up Gavin's letters. He described a recent trip to Nairobi, and a visit to Zimmerman's to sell zebra and tommy skins. Even now, Lindsey couldn't bear the sickening thud, as the dead zebra was slung into the back of the land-rover, eyes glazed and rolling, mouth leering. The nauseating smell and the blood never failed to fill her with revulsion. She wasn't made for a tough life, she told herself.

Gavin went on to write about a hunting expedition, when they had shot a rogue elephant
who had uprooted the boundary fence, and caused hundreds of pounds worth of damage. The dam had at last been completed; there had been a barbecue at a neighbour's ranch to celebrate, and many people they knew had been there.

They were redecorating the club house at
Buruti. But nowhere was there any declaration of love; nowhere was there even an indication that he missed her, and she had to admit that as the days passed, she found herself thinking of him less and less. Instead she seemed to be thinking about a man with granite eyes and a sharp tongue.

The window was open and, hearing a car draw up and then sudden voices, she instinctively looked out. It was Sonia Vincent and Simon.

Sonia was looking even more glamorous this morning in red ski-pants and a white anorak with a fur-trimmed hood. She wore her hair loose and the rich red-gold curls rippled down her back. There was no denying it, she was very beautiful.

Sonia had linked her arm through Simon's and was gazing up at him adoringly. They appeared to be holding an animated conversation. Fragments drifted up to Lindsey, but they made no sense, and so, after a while, she quietly closed the window and tried hard to concentrate on her typing, wishing sadly that she looked half as beautiful as Sonia, so that Simon would think of her as a woman, rather than just as a useful piece of machinery.

That afternoon, Lindsey took Susan to Maidstone to buy her some new clothes. The landscape was grey and bleak that day. The trees stood in stark black silhouette against the skyline—even the downs looked dark and menacing. It was bitingly cold—icily so, nipping at fingertips and ear lobes.

When they reached Maidstone, the shops were crowded. Fortunately, Susan was not a child to dither, and saw a dress and coat she liked almost immediately. There was some money left for a new
setof underwear, and this they purchased in Marks and Spencers.

"Aren't you going to buy anything?" asked Susan, opening the bag to peep at her own purchases, as if afraid they might have vanished.

Lindsey dropped Simon's change into her purse. "No, I just want to post these letters."

"They're all air letters," Susan remarked curiously. "Can we have some tea now…? I'm starving. There's a nice place down this street."

They had tea and synthetic cream cakes in the rather dingy little cafe Susan had enthused about. Its main attraction seemed to be a juke box that blared forth incoherent noises, if fed with ten pence pieces. Susan listened in rapt silence, with star-struck eyes, to her latest pop idol.

Lindsey wondered if she had done anything to improve her relationship with the girl. She hoped so, but knew she couldn't bank on it.

Darkness was falling rapidly as they made their way home.

"I'll wear my new dress and coat when we go to lunch with Aunty Sonia tomorrow, and put my hair up like yours, if you'll show me how," Susan suddenly announced.

Lindsey felt absurdly pleased. She seemed to have made a little headway at any rate. She wondered if Simon would approve of his daughter's purchases. She suddenly realised that she was thinking of her employer by his Christian name. Simon—it was the right sort of name for him somehow.

Lindsey decided to call on Mrs. Marks on Tuesday afternoon, before meeting Andrew. She received a warm welcome, but was totally unprepared for what her old friend had to tell her. She sat staring into the blazing log fire in the cosy sitting room, and wondered sadly if her father knew about the fire that had devastated White Chestnuts. Mrs. Marks paused in the act of pouring the tea from a large willow-patterned pot.

"My dear Lindsey, if only I had realised you were in England, you and Rob could have spent Christmas here. What a dreadful shock it must have been for you both, finding the house gone."

"It was," Lindsey said dully. "Rob didn't even discover Mary was abroad until just before Christmas, as I said, and we can't contact her at present because she hasn't left a forwarding address."

"Well dear, as I told you, Mary never actually lived in the bungalow. She moved to her London flat to avoid seeing the old house demolished. I think she felt sad about it too, but you see, it was the fire risk. All that wood and the insurance company wouldn't be too keen to pay up a second time would they?"

"No, I suppose not," Lindsey fiddled absently with her tea spoon, unable to comprehend the situation all in one go. "And you say it was pretty badly damaged, and no-one knows how it started?"

"Yes, but it was probably faulty wiring. That's what was suspected. We can just be thankful Mary awoke and got out in time. That was a terrible night for her. The fire did a lot of damage to the rooms on the west side, and so much needed to be spent on it that it seemed an impossible task to renovate it. You did say more tea didn't you, dear?"

"Yes, please. So I suppose it was cheaper to pull it down and build the bungalow?"

"Yes, dear, I should think so, in the long run. That's what was advised anyway, and it really is a very nice bungalow when you get used to it. But I still don't understand why your father didn't tell you all this himself."

"Nor do I," said Lindsey worriedly. "I mean, I know his passion for surprises, but surely this is going too far…I suppose the bungalow does still belong to the Merediths?"

"Well, I can't think Edward would have let you come here if it didn't."

Lindsey sighed. "No, I suppose not. Oh dear, it's all so complicated, and when I really think about it, he did try to dissuade me from coming over. He wanted me to wait until the summer. I suppose he really does know?"

Mrs.
Marks studied the pastry server, as if seeking inspiration.

"Couldn't you 'phone him?"

Lindsey shook her head. "No, I can't contact the ranch directly, and in any case, if by any chance he doesn't know about the fire, I don't want to upset him. He's not in the best of health these days, you know—dicky heart. He probably knows by now that Mary's gone abroad, but I'd best wait until I hear from him, all the same."

"Well you know what's best, dear. Help yourself to more cake. It's homemade from the WI stall. It's a pity Henry had to go to that meeting this afternoon or he might have been able to offer some advice. Anyway I shouldn't worry about it if I were you, just enjoy your holiday."

Lindsey smiled. "Yes I will—This walnut gateau is delicious, I wonder what the recipe is."

When it was time for Lindsey to leave,
Mrs. Marks insisted upon walking with her to the White Swan. Lindsey had 'phoned Andrew to tell him that she was visiting a friend in the afternoon, and would meet him in Cambrook.

"If Robin's coming down this week-end he must stay with us, Lindsey.—No, my dear, I insist. Now that I've got his 'phone number, I'll get in touch and fix it up. It would be so silly for him to stay in
an hotel when we've got a spare room."

"Well, it's very kind of you,
Mrs. Marks, but the trouble with Rob is that he never really makes his mind up definitely until the last moment."

"Oh, well never mind, I'm sure we can arrange something. We're going to that wedding, I told you about on Saturday, but we'll be home early, as it's in the morning. Val's coming home, and I'm sure she'd love to see Robin! She often talks about his last visit."

Lindsey wondered if she detected a spot of matchmaking. She sincerely hoped Mrs. Marks wouldn't be disappointed, because Rob had a mind of his own where women were concerned!

"Well good-bye, dear. I hope to see you again soon. It was sensible of you to park there. It's such a steep hill up to our place. Enjoy your evening!"

No sooner had Mrs. Marks and Lindsey parted company than Andrew appeared from the shadows.

"Hello there. Where have you been hiding? I saw the Mini and couldn't make out where you were."

"Oh, so you've only just arrived," Lindsey said with relief. "I thought perhaps I'd kept you waiting."

"Well it's a woman's privilege isn't it?" They laughed and taking her arm he led her into the hotel. "What'll you drink?
Martini—pink gin?"

Lindsey shuddered and longed to ask for a beer. Instead she said, "A medium sherry, please."

She studied the menu whilst he was at the bar, but her mind was on other things. The inn reminded her a little of the club house in Buruti, and she wondered if Gavin would be there that evening with her father. Kenya seemed to belong to a dream world. It was so very far away. Supposing her father didn't know about the fire at White Chestnuts. Supposing it hadn't been an accident. She shivered involuntarily, so that Andrew returning with the drinks, said in concern. "That's a lovely dress you're wearing, but so thin. You look frozen. Come and sit nearer the fire."

Lindsey wished she had got a few warmer clothes. This evening she was wearing an attractive cream dress, figured with different shades of blue and mauve paisley.

Fortunately, they did not have to wait long for a table, and it was much warmer in the dining room. This was a beautiful, oak-panelled room with soft red wall lights which shone on the burnished horse brasses and old hunting prints, and illuminated Lindsey's face. Andrew saw the faraway look in her eyes and wondered what she was thinking about.

"Lin, you look positively stunning. That dress really suits your colouring. My goodness,
it's fortunate Simon decided to have one more housekeeper."

"Susan doesn't think so," said Lindsey, hoping he wasn't going to become too amorous.

Andrew chuckled. "That young minx, but I did warn you. Anyway she'll naturally resent you because she'll see you as opposition to Sonia. She rather fancies the idea of a glamorous step-mama." Lindsey felt herself blushing.

"But that's too ridiculous for words."

"Not to Sue it isn't. She only sees situations in black and white…Tell me what did you think of the charming Sonia?"

"She's very beautiful," Lindsey conceded generously.

His face became animated. "She is rather, isn't she? She wears her clothes so superbly—That magnolia complexion and all that glorious auburn hair."

In that moment, Lindsey realised with a sense of shock that Andrew Kirkby was in love with Sonia Vincent. It showed in his eyes, which lit up when he spoke of her, and he just couldn't seem to be able to keep away from the topic. No wonder he and Simon were such arch enemies.

"Do you think she'll make Simon Kirkby a good wife?" she asked slyly, watching for his reaction. He laughed harshly.

"Will Simon make her a good husband, would be more to the point? Will he ever keep his head out of the clouds sufficiently long enough to remember to marry her?"

"I sometimes get the distinct impression that you don't like your cousin," Lindsey said, studying her place mat.

"Now why ever should you think that?" He swallowed several mouthfuls of soup. "The feeling's quite mutual, as a matter of fact. He irritates me,
that's all, particularly when he's so blind where women are concerned—First Lucy and now Sonia. You'd have liked Lucy, Lin. I'll never in a thousand years know why Simon married her though, except that we were all school friends together at one time; they were as unalike as chalk and cheese. Simon doesn't know when he's well-off, believe you me."

"What happened to Lucy?" Lindsey asked curiously.

Andrew shrugged his shoulders. "She upped and left him, just like that. Went off to Australia with a man she'd met at the country club. It shook Simon to the core. None of us could understand how she could desert the kids like that, although she wasn't the maternal type….Rather good soup this isn't it? Consommé Julienne, I think they call it."