Next Door to Romance (20 page)

'Celia. And yes, she got it from her aunt which, as I know, you've already decided immediately casts some doubts on its veracity.'

'Well, it does, doesn't it?' Lisa said with a little grimace. 'Mrs Blewett is a frightful gossip, and we've all suffered from her tongue and her imagination at one time or another.'

'True enough,' Tom agreed. 'And if there was nothing more to it than that, I'd more than likely have discredited it. But as it happens, there's some circumstantial confirmation that it isn't so easy to shrug off.

To begin with, there
is
a new vet coming to Addingly by name, Robin Enderby. And if you'll take the trouble to walk along the Bardley Road for about three-quarters of a mile to the house old Mr Cunningham used to live in, you'll see his name-plate up on the gatepost with a typed note stuck on saying that he will be in residence in a week's time.'

'That only proves that a vet is coming, not that Mr Cosgrave has anything to do with it,' Lisa pointed out quickly.

'Oh quite,' Tom agreed. 'But taken in conjunction with—Lisa, have you heard anybody suggest that perhaps I'm not very good at my job?'

'Good heavens, no, Tom!' Lisa denied emphatically. 'Why, what an absurd idea!'

'No, I don't suppose anyone would say it to you,' Tom replied. 'But several times since the Chicot episode, I've had people whose animals I've been attending question my decisions. And one—the owner of a dog so fat that his undercarriage almost touches the floor—got so annoyed with me when I told her that all that ailed the poor brute was overfeeding that she went even further than that. She said that until now she hadn't been able to credit it, but now it was perfectly clear to her that I wasn't competent to care for animals either because I was indifferent to their suffering, or because I didn't know enough to make a competent diagnosis.'

'What!' Lisa exclaimed. 'But why? I mean, who put such an idea into her head?'

'Who indeed?' Tom said grimly. 'Naturally, that was what I wanted to know, and in the end I got it—or most of it. Apparently the story is going round that Chicot wouldn't have died if I'd had a bit more knowledge and had made more of an effort to save him. Oh, and also that my insistence that he died of heat exhaustion was simply an attempt to shift the blame from my shoulders.'

'But that's absolute nonsense!' Lisa said indignantly. 'No one who had so much as put their head inside that car could have doubted the truth of what you said. And as for doing more, you couldn't have done! And I know what I'm talking about, for I did put my head into the car after you'd lifted Chicot out, and I helped you with him.'

'So you did,' Tom said slowly. 'That's very fortunate for me, Lisa! Because, if it should become necessary for me to consider an action for slander—always presuming that I can discover the source of these stories —then you'll be an invaluable witness on my behalf!'

Lisa caught her breath and Tom gave her a quick, questioning glance.

'You would give the necessary evidence, wouldn't you, Lisa?' he asked.

Lisa moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. What was she going to say to that?

On the one hand, Tom was being most unfairly treated and common decency demanded that she should come to his rescue if needs be. And yet how could she forget what Mark had said—that already he had almost lost his job because of the part she had played in making Chicot's plight public knowledge? What on earth would happen if she were to stand up in court and give evidence that would make it clear how stupid this obloquy of Tom was?

'Well,' Tom asked drily.

Lisa squared her shoulders.

'If it comes to that, and if my evidence would help, then yes, I'd give it,' she said steadily. 'But I do hope it won't come to that—' her voice shook a little. 'I suppose—there isn't anyone else—any other way?'

'As a matter of fact, there is,' Tom told her. 'I called in the local R.S.P.C.A. man—and he made a very thorough examination. There was no doubt in his mind as to the cause of Chicot's death, and that will be made clear by him when the case against Cosgrave comes up in a few weeks' time. So don't worry, Lisa. It's at least a hundred to one that you won't be called then or later.'

'Then why did you ask me?' Lisa asked indignantly. 'Surely you must have realized—'

'That I was putting you on a spot?' Tom finished as Lisa left her sentence unfinished. 'Oh yes, I knew that all right.'

'Then why?' Lisa demanded. 'You've got to tell me, Tom!' as he hesitated.

'Just—I wanted to know what you'd say,' he explained.

'You mean—just curiosity?' even more indignantly.

'No, not that. At least, I mean, not idle curiosity. I—I wanted to know if you are still the Lisa I've always known—or whether the poison is beginning to work already!'

There was a moment's silence. Then Lisa said icily:

'Will you please stop—at once? I don't want to go any further with you!'

'Oh, rot!' Tom put his foot down hard on the accelerator and the needle of the speedometer seemed almost to jump up. 'If I put you down how on earth would you get home? Don't you realize we've done over twenty miles?'

'We're on the bus route,' Lisa reminded him. 'And even if we weren't, I'd rather walk than be cooped up with you here! So will you stop—or shall I get out while we're going?'

'For heaven's sake, you little fool—' Tom shouted as Lisa's hand went out to the door handle. 'You'll kill yourself!'

'Then stop!' she ordered curtly.

His lips pressed in a thin, tight line, Tom braked so hard that only the safety straps prevented her from hitting the windscreen. He sat motionless as she got out and for a moment Lisa hesitated.

'Tom, you must be wrong!' she said, unconscious of the pleading note in her voice. 'I mean—that Mr Cosgrave is at the bottom of all that you've told me!'

Without looking at her, Tom shrugged his shoulders.

'I can quite see that you'd like me to be, but I don't for a minute think I am. However, you don't have to take my word for it! If you want confirmation, ask your boy-friend—that is, if you're not afraid to!'

'Of course I'm not!' Lisa began indignantly, and stopped short since it was useless to talk to the back of a rapidly moving car.

Lisa reached home to find her mother anxiously watching for her from a front window. By the time she had let herself in with her key, Mrs Bellairs was in the hall.

'Oh, my dear, so Tom didn't pick you up!' she exclaimed. 'I'm so thankful.'

'As a matter of fact, he did,' Lisa replied. 'But never mind that. There's something wrong, isn't there, Mother? what is it?'

'Not exactly wrong, dear, particularly now that you're back,' Mrs Bellairs explained carefully. 'It's just that Mark rang up from the Manor—and he was rather put out that you weren't in—'

'But I'd no idea that he was likely—' Lisa began to excuse herself, and stopped short. 'Did he leave a message?'

'Oh yes, dear. He asked that if you came in within the next hour, he'd like you to ring him up.'

'How long ago was that?' Lisa asked, already walking in the direction of her father's study where the telephone was.

'Not half an hour ago,' Mrs Bellairs replied, and sighed as Lisa vanished into the study and closed the door firmly behind her. Of course it was only natural that young people should want their conversations to be private, and yet she couldn't help feeling that the shutting of that door meant something more than that. It was as if Lisa was shutting herself off from her family— as if Mark was a sort of barrier between them.

The telephone bell at the Manor only rang a couple of times before Mark answered it, so he must have been waiting near for her call to come through.

'Mark, it's Lisa,' she said anxiously when he answered. 'Is there something wrong?'

'No, certainly not,' he said with what she could not help feeling was somewhat unnecessary emphasis, 'Simply, I've had to make a sudden change in my plans. I'll explain to you when I see you. I'm starting for London Airport in half an hour and I'll drop in on you for a few minutes on my way.'

'Yes, all right,' Lisa agreed. 'But Mark—'

'Sorry, Lisa, I can't stop now,' Mark said crisply, 'I'm waiting for a distance call to come through and I must keep the line clear!'

And he rang off. Slowly Lisa cradled the instrument, thinking as she did so, how difficult it appeared to be for men to realize that there were times when women just might have something important to say. First of all Tom had driven off, leaving her in mid-sentence, and now Mark had done exactly the same thing. What was more, he hadn't answered her call so promptly because he'd been waiting anxiously for it. It was this other distant call that accounted for his promptness!

She went slowly upstairs, took off her coat and changed her shoes and then went over to the dressing table. The face that she saw in the mirror was not a reassuring sight. Her hair was tousled—well, that could easily be remedied. And so could her make-up. But those woebegone eyes and the forlorn, drooping mouth— they were things that only Mark could cure—if he wanted to, that was. Actually, he hadn't sounded as if he was interested in anything except business—

Suddenly ashamed of her thoughts, she took herself to task energetically.

'You're being very stupid,' she told her reflection firmly. 'You know perfectly well that whatever one may want to do, there are times when one just can't because one has to fit in with other people's arrangements. And I expect that's what's happened now and why Mark sounded so abrupt. It was his business self talking, but when he gets here, he'll be different—' Her heart beat a little quicker at the thought of the dear, gay, smiling Mark she loved. 'So stop looking like a moulting crow and
smile
!' she ordered herself severely. 'Mark will be just as disappointed as you are and—' she glanced down at her bare left hand, 'I expect that's why he was upset that I wasn't in!'

She went downstairs to await Mark's arrival, but though she tried to settle down with a magazine, she couldn't concentrate on what she was reading and in the end she gave up trying to. She stood at one of the front windows where she would see Mark arrive, and unconsciously drummed a monotonous little tune on the glass with the tips of her fingers. She looked down at her watch. The time seemed interminable, and yet it was only twenty minutes since she had spoken to him.

When at last he did come, he wasn't driving his own white car as she'd taken for granted would be the case. Instead, he was in the big chauffeur-driven car that Mr Cosgrave used when going up to town.

Before turning away from the window, Lisa saw that Mark paused briefly evidently to give Mitchell, the chauffer, some instructions. Then he almost ran towards the house and took the steps two at a time.

He greeted her with a quick, almost perfunctory kiss.

'I'm sorry about this,' he said with a briskness that didn't, to Lisa's ears, sound very sorry at all. 'But there you are, these things happen!'

'Yes, of course,' Lisa agreed quickly. 'And I'm sorry I was out when you rang up—I'd have stopped in if I'd known there was any likelihood—'

'I didn't know myself until the last moment,' Mark admitted. 'Where were you, by the way?'

'I went out for a walk,' Lisa explained carefully, and was ashamed of herself for avoiding any reference to having been with Tom—as if there was something shameful in the fact.

'Yes, your mother told me that, but I rather wondered—'

Lisa held her breath. Supposing someone had seen her with Tom and had told Mark? Her explanation would sound so lame and unconvincing!

But Mark didn't pursue the matter. He was too much concerned with his own affairs.

'I expect you wonder why I haven't rung you up this week?' And not waiting for her reply, he went on smoothly, 'I've been extremely busy.' He paused as if reviewing the week in retrospect. 'In fact, I can't ever remember having been so busy in my life before!'

'But you did say there was nothing wrong?' Lisa said anxiously.

'Nor is there. Do put that idea out of your mind, Lisa! No, the fact of the matter is—' he paused momentarily. 'This is in the strictest confidence, you understand?' he asked impressively.

She nodded, hoping that she would be clever enough to understand his explanation. She need not have worried, for it was only in the most general of terms.

'An unusual opportunity has come our way.' He was evidently choosing his words with great care. 'There are reasons why I cannot go into details, but the long and short of it is this—to make the very best of the situation entails there being someone on the spot to represent the firm. They've got to be on the spot and ready to go anywhere at a moment's notice. As we planned it, Cosgrave was to have been the key man, but, though this is the last thing we want noised abroad, he's not too fit at the moment. So it falls to me.'

'Yes, I understand,' Lisa replied in a brisk, businesslike way which no one had ever heard her use before. It delighted Mark.

'That's my girl,' he said approvingly, taking her in his arms again. 'And you do understand that this rules out week-ends here for a time?'

'How long?' Lisa asked, doing her best not to sound as if she was blaming him for her disappointment.

But she wasn't entirely successful, for Mark frowned.

'I've no idea. A few weeks, perhaps. No, I really can't commit myself. I'll keep in touch with you, of course.'

'Yes, of course,' Lisa said in a small voice. 'And— and I'll write to you—if you'll tell me where you'll be.'

'But I've just told you, I shall be all over the place,' Mark said impatiently. 'Oh well, better send them to my flat to be forwarded. You know the address, don't you?'

'Yes,' Lisa said briefly.

'Right!' He kissed her again. 'And now I really must go!'

'Just wait a minute, Mark!' She delayed him with a hand laid lightly on his arm. 'There's a question I want to ask you—'

A guarded look came into Mark's eyes.

'Well, be quick!'

'Did you know that another vet is coming to Addingly?'

He stared at her blankly.

'For heaven's sake, Lisa!'