Next Door to Romance (25 page)

There didn't seem to be any answer to that, so Lisa didn't attempt to give one.

'Right!' she said briskly. 'Then I'll see to it that all your buttons are on firmly and your socks mended,' she promised.

'Thanks,' Tom said laconically.

The next few days were so busy that Lisa hardly had time to think. She more than kept her promise to see that Tom's clothes were in apple-pie order. She packed for him as well. Then, because Robin Enderby would be taking up residence on the very day that Tom left, his rooms had to be given a special cleaning without in any way interfering with Tom's use of them.

Then, over at the kennels, four of Celia's bitches whelped within a day or so of one another and each produced an unusually large litter. That kept Tom busy since there were some complications and as a result his personal belongings didn't get packed away as he had planned, and nor did he have time to go through various records with Robin.

'Still, you know where everything is,' Tom remarked, distractedly running his fingers through his red hair until it stood on end. 'And in any case, I expect he'd forget half I told him. One always does if there's too much detail. Far better let him find out for himself.'

'Yes,' Lisa agreed absently. 'You know, Tom, it's going to seem awfully strange, working in your surgery but not with you!'

'Oh, you'll soon get used to it,' Tom said cheerfully. 'Robin's quite a decent chap, you know. You'll get on all right with him. And that reminds me, Lisa. You will do your best to help him through, won't you?'

'Well, of course I shall,' Lisa said without much enthusiasm. 'I wouldn't have agreed to work with him if I hadn't been prepared to do that!'

'No, of course not,' Tom agreed. 'But what I was meaning, what with one thing and another, the poor bloke's got something of an inferiority complex. He wants shaking out of that because it's all nonsense. Granted, he was a bit dim not to see through Cosgrave's offer, but then he didn't know the circumstances, so he can't really be blamed.'

'I'm not blaming him,' Lisa said rather coldly. Just what was Tom driving at, praising Robin like this to her? Had he got some idea in his mind that Robin might take Mark's place in her heart? She was on the point of telling him just how absurd the idea was when the telephone bell rang, and the opportunity passed. Nor did she somehow feel like bringing up the subject again.

Tom set out on his travels and despite Robin Enderby having taken his place, the house seemed extraordinarily empty.

'Not that Mr Enderby isn't very pleasant,' Mrs Bellairs sighed, 'but he just isn't Tom!'

And although Lisa didn't comment on the statement, with every passing day she appreciated more and more how very true that was.

'It's only because Christmas is coming,' she told herself defensively. 'It's an emotional sort of time, and anyway, Tom was so useful, so naturally, I miss him! Oh, bother!' as she hit her thumb for the third time as she hammered in nails to take the decorations.

For this was going to be a real family Christmas for the Bellairs. For the first time in years, Mrs Bellairs was going to have all her chicks under her wing again. Janet, John and the three children. Peter and Helen and their twin boys, Ricky, whose leave, incredibly, covered the Christmas period, and, of course, Lisa.

'I
am
looking forward to it,' Mrs Bellairs confessed, bright-eyed. 'If only it didn't mean so much extra work for you, dear!'

'Nothing to it!' Lisa declared confidently. 'We'll start well ahead with the preparations and it will all go like a bomb! By Christmas Day there'll be nothing to do but put the turkey in the oven! And don't forget, there are two puddings and lots of mincemeat left from last year.'

'So there are.' But Mrs Bellairs sighed. 'I made more than usual because Tom is so fond of both puddings and pies. And now he isn't here to share them with us! I do hope he has a pleasant day—though to my way of thinking, being in a different country from one's own at Christmas isn't the same as being at home, no matter how nice everyone may be!'

'Oh, Tom was quite confident he'd make out all right,' Lisa said briskly. 'Now, about beds, Mother—'

And in working out plans for sleeping arrangements, Tom was forgotten. But now, two days before Christmas with a mass of holly and evergreens to put up before anyone arrived, to say nothing of paper-chains and strings of Christmas cards, it was, as Lisa told herself, difficult not to wish that Tom was at hand. He would be so useful! But since he wasn't available, she plodded steadily on.

But somehow it wasn't possible to keep Tom out of her mind. One after another there flashed into her mind pictures of all the occasions they had shared. And not only Christmas. It was birthdays and any other occasion that called for celebrations and, perhaps even more vivid in her mind, those times when, out of a clear sky and for no apparent reason, life had suddenly become tremendous fun.

Lisa scrambled down the stepladder because it was rather shaky—and so was she. Quite suddenly, she felt the need to escape. From Christmas and its activities, from memories and, most of all, from herself, if that was possible.

She slipped silently out into the back lobby and got out her scarlet anorak and long boots that lived in the old press. Her gloves she couldn't find, so she borrowed an old pair of driving gloves, originally Tom's, but now common property to the house. Then at the last moment she tiptoed back for the secateurs. If anyone asked her why she was going out, she would say that it was because she wanted more evergreens.

But the house remained silent. Mrs Bellairs was having her afternoon nap and the Professor was either adding another note to his beloved book on the expressive flexibility of the English language ('Always the exact word for every occasion,' as he himself said enthusiastically) or perhaps dozing in his big, shabby armchair.

Lisa closed the back door with almost an excess of caution. She simply couldn't answer any questions, for there was a strange confusion in her mind.

The air was crisp and very clear. The sun, low in the sky, gave little heat, but at least there was sufficient illusion of warmth to deceive a bird or two into making the long, swooping notes of spring.

Not that Lisa took much heed of her surroundings as she crashed through the low undergrowth of the woods on the carpet of crisp leaves. All her thoughts were turned inwards—and a lot of good it did her. She had felt that she would escape from herself if she came out, but it wasn't working out. It wasn't far enough. If, like Tom, she could go abroad, see new places and people —but that wasn't possible, and since it wasn't, she felt a resentment against him. Why should he have such freedom when it was denied to her?

She had reached the edge of the wood now, and not sure what she wanted to do next, leaned her arms on the top of a five-barred gate. Her thoughts drifted uneasily, unmeaningly, until suddenly she was startled at the sound of her own name being spoken.

'Lisa!'

She turned sharply—and was face to face with Mark. For a moment she said nothing, then, casually, as if they had never been anything but the merest friends:

'Why, hullo, Mark. Are you down here for Christmas?'

'No, I'm down here on business—I expect you know that Mr and Mrs Cosgrave have left the district? I'm looking after things for him—but never mind that, Lisa!' He put out a hand and took hers in his. 'It's tremendous luck, meeting you like this!'

'Is it?' Her voice was still as casual and though she did not take her hand from his, it lay there, so unresponsively that a quick frown flickered across Mark's handsome face.

'Of course it is!' he declared, piqued by her indifference. And then, reproachfully: 'You didn't answer my letter!'

'I didn't read it,' Lisa told him gravely. 'You couldn't have had anything to say to me that would have made any difference!'

'But I did!' Mark protested vehemently. 'I explained to you just how it had happened—'

'Oh, Mark!' Lisa protested. 'What explanation could there be except that you found you'd made a mistake and cared more for Evadne than for me! Do just leave it at that!'

'But it wasn't that at all!' he insisted. 'It was purely a matter of business. Cosgrave very nearly wrecked the firm with his lack of judgment and I—'

'Yes, I know,' Lisa interrupted. 'You saved the day! But Mr Cosgrave didn't entirely trust you, so he insisted on you marrying his daughter before he would hand everything over to you! Uncle Gerald explained that to me.'

'Well, if you understand that, why be so stand-offish?' Mark asked in an injured tone. 'It was either that or I would have been out on my ear—and broke into the bargain! So what else could I do? If I hadn't married Evadne, I certainly wouldn't have been in a position to marry you!'

'Even though I'd have been willing to wait?' Lisa asked quietly. 'Even though I'd have been content with very small beginnings—'

'Love in a cottage!' Mark said scornfully. 'No, thank you! I know only too well what that means! Disillusion and drudgery! That's not the sort of thing I'd be cad enough to ask any girl to share with me!'

Lisa looked at him wonderingly. Did he genuinely feel that—or was it simply that, knowing how shamefully he had treated her, he was trying to justify himself in her eyes so that he need not feel any necessity to reproach himself?

'So, really, I ought to be grateful to you,' she said thoughtfully.

'Well, I don't say that exactly,' Mark said huffily. 'But I do want you to understand that if I'd been free to choose, I wouldn't be married to Evadne today.'

'Mark, be quiet!' Lisa said peremptorily. 'I won't listen! She is your wife and in loyalty—oh, please go, Mark, because we've nothing more to say to one another, now or in the future!'

'Oh, very well,' Mark said resentfully. 'But I must say, Lisa, you're very different from the sweet, ingenuous girl I fell in love with.'

Her heart gave a little stab and then was very still.

'And you, Mark, are just exactly the same as I should have realized you were from the very beginning!'

He stared at her uncomprehendingly.

'And just what do you mean by that?' he wanted to know.

'It's rather difficult to explain,' said Lisa. 'No, it isn't! Just now, Mark, when you first spoke to me, you smiled.'

'Well? Natural enough, surely?'

'Perhaps. I don't know. But it made me realize something. Do you know, Mark, when you smile, it's only with your lips. It never gets as far as your eyes!'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Mark declared impatiently.

'No, I don't suppose you do,' Lisa replied. 'But I know—and that's enough! Good-bye, Mark!'

She turned and went back the way she had come, and Mark, even if he hadn't understood her, at least had the sense to know that he'd gain nothing by following her.

Lisa went back to the house obsessed with the peculiar feeling that she was a different person from the one who had left it less than an hour ago.

Then, her state of mind had been one of complete confusion, yet it had never occurred to her to doubt that though she had accepted the fact that Mark had gone out of her life for ever, she none the less still loved him.

Now she knew that was not true. Seeing him again had made that quite clear. Perhaps she never had loved him—perhaps what she had felt for him had been no more than ephemeral enchantment. Or it might be that today, for the first time, she had seen him for what he was and her love for him had been destroyed because he was not the man she had thought he was.

But whatever the cause, the result was the same. Mark had now not only gone out of her life. He had gone out of her heart. As a result, all the pain she had felt since she had known of his treachery had vanished like a mist in the sunshine. But in its place was a feeling of emptiness. Of loneliness.

Christmas Day wasn't perhaps quite so straightforward and simple as Lisa had insisted it would be. With four lively youngsters and an infant in the house there were bound to be complications and even alterations to plans at the last moment. But one thing was quite evident. It was a most satisfactory affair. A real family party with everyone doing their share to make it a success. And Lisa could feel with considerable satisfaction that most of that was due to her own efforts. Everybody told her so, and she knew that it was true. Yet, despite her natural satisfaction, to her, something was missing. For everybody else there was someone special—a partner with whom to share the pleasure and the excitement of the day. But not for her. She was odd man out.

Not that she was left out at all, but that was just it. They all took such care to include her in everything that it brought home more acutely than ever just how lonely she was. And as if to emphasize that, there wasn't so much as a Christmas card from Tom, although Celia, she knew, had had both a card and a gift. Well, that was natural enough, of course, seeing how he felt about her. But all the same, one did as a rule remember old friends as well as the person one was in love with!

'I know just what Cinderella felt like!' she thought dolefully, blinking back the tears, and immediately laughed at herself. 'So economical, to cry out of pity for oneself! Straight from producer to consumer and no waste! Oh well— !'

And she got on with the inevitable tasks of even such a well planned day since they were having a party that evening. Celia and her aunt, Mrs Blewett, who though perhaps not everyone's idea of the perfect guest would otherwise have been entirely alone—and after all, it
was
Christmas! Then the Rector and his wife had promised to drop in if only for a short time. Sir Gerald Tenbury, of course, and finally, Robin Enderby.

'That is, if everybody hasn't stuffed their cats and dogs with unsuitable Christmas food,' he had warned.

Lisa had given a little spurt of laughter.

'I know! Last year, Mrs Pelham's Sweetie-pie—a peke—got at the hard sauce for the pudding and was absolutely drunk! Tom said he didn't know what to do or say because Mrs Pelham always insists that she's a teetotaller. So in the end he persuaded her to leave the dog with him for observation and let him sleep it off! He was in fine fettle by the morning!'