The Man in Possession (6 page)

She washed the cups and saucers feeling restless and unsettled. She would be glad when the snow had gone and the busy season arrived. She would then have no time for mooning.

She went back to the office and collected together the few remaining items from her desk drawer and took them across to the house. Roger Leighton was nowhere to be seen as she pushed open the glass vestibule door and went into the study. Andy had brought everything across he could lay his hands on and had piled it all higgledy-piggledy in the middle of the room.

She set to work on sorting it out and as she picked up the telephone directory from the floor she saw what looked like a white card. She picked it up and turned it over, to see that it was a photograph. She had never seen it before, yet it was vaguely familiar. It was the photograph of a woman—young, attractive, well groomed.

Then suddenly Julia recognised her. It was the same face Roger Leighton had drawn when he had been doodling this morning.

CHAPTER THREE

As Julia stared at the picture Roger Leighton came into the room. She glanced up swiftly and held the photograph out to him.

‘
I think this must be yours
.’

He took it from her, his face taut.
‘
Where did you find
it?
’
he asked sharply.

‘
On the floor just now. You—must have dropped it
,’
she answered, turning away and continuing with what she was doing. Out of the
corner
of her eye she saw him put the photograph in his pocket.
How
had he come to drop it? she wondered. He didn
’
t look the kind of man who would continually take out a photograph and keep looking at it, no matter how much in love he might be.

‘
Do you want any help?
’
he asked suddenly.
‘
It all looks the most frightful muddle
.’

‘
I
can manage, thanks
,’
she answered.
‘
I
’
ll soon get it all sorted out. Do you want me to set up two desks—one for each of us?
’

He nodded.
‘
You might as well, though I
’
m not expecting to spend much time in here. I—take it your—friend has gone?
’
he remarked, with what seemed a swift change of subject.

She nodded.
‘
I
’
ve—told him he mustn
’
t come to see me during working hours.
’

‘
Oh, why?
’
he queried unexpectedly.

‘
Because I—don
’
t feel it
’
s right. You
’
re not paying me to have social calls.
’

He gave a faint smile of amusement.
‘
I
appreciate your being conscientious, but you
’
re not being paid by the hour. I wouldn
’
t have asked you to stay on if I didn
’
t think I could trust you to use your discretion in these matters. Are you—er—by any chance seeing
him
this evening?
’

She gave him a surprised look and shook her head.
‘I
’
m planning an early night.
’

‘What do you call early?
’

‘
Oh, bed somewhere around ten o
’
clock with a good book. Why do you ask
?’

‘I was wondering if you
’
d take pity on a stranger in a strange land, so to speak. This place depresses me entirely at the moment. Would you come out and have dinner with me
?’
His lips curved again in amusement.
‘
I promise to bring you back by ten.
’

‘Are
you serious?
’
she asked dubiously.

‘Of course I
’
m serious. Why shouldn
’
t I be?
’

She skirted that question. She was not sure why she had asked it.

‘
Very well, yes. I
’
d love to come, thanks.
’

‘Good, I
’
ll give you a call around seven,
’
he said briskly, and went out.

Julia scarcely knew whether she was pleased at the invitation or not, or whether she could justifiably feel flattered. As she was the only woman to hand, and at present the house was rather a depressing place in which to eat, she decided she could hardly feel flattered. And pleased? She had not really been looking forward to another evening alone. She had had so many since David had died, in spite of Max being around.

As she brought some kind of order in what used to be the Hargreaves
’
study she began to realise for the first time how lonely she really had been. She realized, too, that though she had been grateful for Max
’
s friendship, she only liked his company for any length of time when she was in a particularly good humour. The slightest thing put her off him. She hadn
’
t wanted to see him tonight, for instance, yet she was quite happy to go out to dinner with
Mr.
Leighton. It even mattered to her what she wore, but she told herself that this was only because she felt he would be accustomed to taking out smart and well-dressed women and she wanted to be equal to the occasion.

Naturally, as she searched her wardrobe an hour or so later she did not appear to have a thing to wear. A greater part of her wardrobe was still at home because since coming to Norfolk she had not dressed up a very great deal. She was still young enough to dress informally and, spending most of her time around the boatyard, she wore slacks and sweaters a good deal anyway.

Tonight, however, she felt she needed to strike exactly the right note—whatever that was. Casual elegance, not appearing to have dressed up too much. Her hand closed on a dress she had bought for Christmas one year and had only worn a few times. It was in corduroy velvet, dove grey with a froth of white lace at the neck and sleeves. She took it out, and for a moment knew a sharp stab of pain. She had been wearing this dress when she had first met David. Quickly, she put it back on the rail. She couldn
’
t wear that. She simply couldn
’
t
!

Then: ‘Don
’
t be silly, darling. Wear it. Go out and have fun,
’
she seemed to hear David say.

She smiled to herself and reached into the wardrobe again and brought the dress out. That was just the sort of thing he
would
have said. She didn
’
t know about the evening being
‘
fun
’
, but at any rate she ought to stop being so silly.

She pinned up her hair and had a bath, and it was with a feeling of pleasure that she slipped on the little grey dress and smoothed it over her hips. It still fitted her perfectly, and looked exactly right for the occasion. Was she attaching too much importance to the evening? she asked herself. After all, it co
ul
d barely be called a social engagement. He simply wanted to go out to eat and someone to go with him. Any other woman would have done just as well. All the same, he
was
her boss, she argued with herself, and the first time out with any man was an occasion. First time? She gave a wry smile. It might also be the last.

Roger Leighton knocked on her door at a little after seven, and she slipped on her simulated pony-skin coat and a pair of white gloves. When she opened the door she was gratified to see a swift raising of his dark brows.

‘Very nice.
’
Then his glance went to her thin shoes.
‘
But stay there for a minute and I
’
ll back the car up a little closer.
’

She watched with some amusement as he brought the car almost to the door, then put down a rubber car mat for her to step on to avoid the snow-covered ground.

‘
Thank you, Sir Walter,
’
she couldn
’
t resist saying.

He opened the car door for her and helped her in, then slammed the door and went swiftly round to the other side.

‘
When one meets up with a lady, one tries to behave like a gentleman,
’
he answered, starting up the car.

Miraculously, the car pulled out of the snow again without too much fierce revving, and they were soon back on to hard ground. A glance at the dark grey car-coat he was wearing with its rich fur collar and she was glad she had chosen to dress up a little bit, and there was no doubt about the expensiveness of his car. She leaned back and let the luxury and comfort wash over her. It was a long time since she had felt so completely relaxed.

‘
Have you any particular preference of a place to eat?
’
he asked after a moment or two.

She shook her head and snuggled still further into her seat.

‘
I
’
ll leave it entirely to you—unless, of course, you want my advice.
’

He gave her an amused glance.
‘
No, I think I know of a place. The hotel in Norwich where I stayed overnight will be fine until I
’
ve had time to look around further.
’

He was a wonderfully smooth driver. Julia closed her eyes. She had almost forgotten what it was like to be taken out in such style. Her own car had only been small, David
’
s had been a shooting brake, and they had seldom dined out in style the short time they had known each other. In style. She laughed to herself. To Roger Leighton this was an ordinary
‘
popping out to dinner
‘
evening. Nothing special.

A sudden squealing of brakes brought her upright.

‘
Sorry,
’
murmured the man at the wheel.
‘
It was the clot in front of me. Were you asleep?
’

‘
Not really. Just relaxing. Such a comfortable car—and such smooth driving—
’

‘
Until now.
’

She gave the flicker of a smile.
‘
Never mind. You can
’
t hope to go through life without being brought up short every now and then.
’

‘
Who
’
d want to?
’
he retorted.
‘
But I don
’
t like to be taken off guard.
’

‘
Oh, I see—
’
she said slowly.

‘
What do you see?
’
he asked, pulling up at a traffic light.

She felt an almost foreign sense of mischief bubbling inside her.
‘
You like life to be a challenge, but in general
you
like to be the one who
’
s doing the challenging—not other people.
’

‘
Are you trying to tell me that I
’
m aggressive?
’

‘
No—o, not in so many words. I simply think you
’
re the sort of person who likes to go out and meet life and to be girded to meet challenges.
’

He grunted.
‘
I
’
ll have to think about that one. At the moment I have to concentrate on my driving.
’

She smiled in the darkness of the car.
‘
I
am
taking rather unfair advantage. I
’
ll say no more until you can give proper attention to conversation.
’

‘
Thanks,
’
he said with a hint of sarcasm.

He dropped her off at what was unquestionably the best hotel in town, and she waited in the foyer while he parked his car. Sh
e
knew that he would be at least five minutes, as new traffic regulations prevented parking outside the hotel, so she settled before the log-effect fire. What she was not prepared for was the appearance of Max, and the sight of him caused her acute embarrassment. He stared at her.

‘
What on earth are you doing here, Julia
?
’
he asked.
‘
I thought you wanted an early night?
’
He dropped into a chair opposite.

‘
So I did—and I still do.
’

‘
But you said you didn
’
t want to come out at all. At least, that was the impression I got. So why—
’

‘
I changed my mind, that
’
s all, Max. I
’
m sorry.
’
Her glance flicked to the door where Roger Leighton
’
s
tall figure was pushing a way in.

Max turned swiftly and saw him.
‘
Oh, I see. That
’
s the way the wind blows, is it?
’

‘
I don
’
t know what you mean,
’
she answered, slightly annoyed.
‘
He asked me out to dinner and—well, I—didn
’
t feel I could refuse.
’

He gave her a most calculating look.
‘
You mean you didn
’
t want to.
’

Roger strode past them to deposit his coat, but there was no doubt he had seen them.

‘
Max, I
’
ve said I
’
m sorry. When you asked me I just didn
’
t feel like coming out. Later I—did, that
’
s a
ll
.
’

He stood up as a mini-skirted girl came through the glass doors.

‘Well, it
’
s an ill wind, Julia. Here comes my date. Have a nice evening.
’

Julia thanked him, feeling distinctly nettled. What had he meant exactly by the reference to an
‘
ill wind
’
? Possibly trying to save his pride by hinting that he preferred the other girl anyway. And obviously he had put some interpretation of his own on her change of mind.

Roger returned.
‘
Would you like, a drink here—or would you prefer the cocktail lo
u
nge?
’

She shook her head as she watched Max and his companion go into the cocktail lounge.

‘Here, please.
’

You—wouldn
’
t like to go and find somewhere else to eat?
’
he queried, glancing in the same direction.

‘
It
’
s all right,
’
she told him. ‘It
’
s rather unfortunate Max choosing to come here too, but the damage—if any—is done now.
’

He ordered their drinks, then asked:
‘
Why do you say,
if any
?’

‘Naturally, he
’
s rather annoyed that I declined his invitation, then accepted yours. But I think only his pride is hurt, and that he
’
ll soon recover.
’

I can imagine. About his pride being hurt, I mean. But look—if it
’
s going to prove too embarrassing, we can go elsewhere. I wouldn
’
t like the evening to be spoilt.
’

She smiled suddenly. ‘It won
’
t be. I didn
’
t know the girl he was with, but she looked very attractive.
’

Roger grimaced.
‘
Not to my taste. Clothes too short, hair too long, lack of character in the face.
’

Julia laughed. ‘You deduced all that from the back
?’
He eyed her speculatively, as if suspecting she was having fun at his expense.

‘I had a good enough look at her face from the front just before she and Windham turned into the hotel—and her clothes and hair were visible from the back.
’

Laughter ticked over inside Julia. ‘Point taken. So you don
’
t approve of short skirts. Or long hair.
’

‘I don
’
t like clothes as short as hers, at any rate. Yours are just about right,
’
he answered, glancing at her hemline and her slim legs. ‘And I like to see a woman
’
s hair looking as though it
’
s cared for and with some semblance of style.
’

She smiled broadly.
‘
Like mine?
’

His glance flicked over her fair hair, layered to a medium length, kept manageable by the healthy, outdoor life she led, plus regular applications of conditioner.

‘
Yes,
’
he said. ‘Like yours.
’

She was glad that the waiter came with their drinks. She had begun to feel a little embarrassed, realizing she had been virtually asking for compliments. All the same, it was rather nice to know he approved of her appearance, and she was sure he was not the sort of man to pay compliments if he did not mean them. But what did he think of her as a person? Perhaps it was too soon for him to tell, and that was one question she would not ask him.

‘
As a matter of interest
,’
he said, after a pause, ‘why did you turn Windham down and then accept my invitation
?
’

She gave him a mischievous glance. ‘When he asked me I just didn
’
t feel like going out. You made me change my mind—which says a great deal for your powers of persuasion.
’

‘
Mm,
’
he said thoughtfully.
‘
You wouldn
’
t have come if you hadn
’
t really wanted to, I hope.
’

‘No, I wouldn
’
t,
’
she assured him.

He smiled suddenly.
‘
May I call you Julia?
’

‘Of course,
’
she answered swiftly.

‘And my name is Roger.
’

She nodded. ‘Roger. A family name?
’

‘
No. The family name is Charles. Fortunately, I was given two names and as soon as I was at an age to think things out for myself, I insisted on being called by my own choice of name—Roger.
’

She would have liked him to elaborate, to have said why he objected to the family name. She felt sure there was much more significance than mere dislike of a Christian name. But for that very reason she did not ask.

‘And at what age
did
you start to think for yourself?
’
she quizzed with a smile.

‘
With regard to the family business—which is tied up with the name—from the age of about ten,
’
he told her.

‘
Did that mean that you—disapproved of the business as well as the name?
’
she asked cautiously.

‘No-o, not really. I simply wanted to have a separate identification. I didn
’
t become actively involved with
the business until I was eighteen
.’