Harbinger of Spring (9 page)

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Authors: Hilda Pressley

Tags: #Harlequin Romance 1972

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We

ve exchanged names,

Ted answered.


Oh, good. Desmond

s my friend and business partner. Des—
Mr.
Barker owns the boatyard and he

s been very helpful to me, lending me his car and the launch, and teaching me how to handle it.


That

s nice of him,

Desmond said indifferently.

Sara glanced quickly at Ted and saw that his brown forehead was creased in a slightly disapproving frown. She spoke hurriedly to him.


Des and I are going to a dinner dance in Norwich tonight, so it

ll be late when I get back. However, I

ve got a good torch and we

ll be very careful. And Ted

would you and Martha excuse me at lunch tomorrow? We don

t quite know what we

ll be doing and Des will have to catch his train back to London.


That

ll be quite all right, Sara. Martha won

t be put out. She

ll understand. Get in and I

ll give your engine a start. It

ll save you scrambling into the ste
rn
.

Sara took her seat and adjusted the hood as the engine
was started. As soon as she was
clear of the quay she
gave a side glance at Desmond.
Even with the life
jacket on he looked very cold
and rather unhappy.

Off his beat, she thought. A
stranger in a strange
land. He would probably adjust
when they got to the
comfort of the Millhouse. After
all, she had had her
moments of feeling dismal when
she first arrived here.
But that expression on Ted

s face,
it really had been one
of disapproval. Of Des

s long hair
and the way he
dressed, she supposed. It was
all very silly and old
-
fashioned. She knew lots of very
intelligent men who
were even more extravagantly
dressed than Des—more
with it, as the expression went. If
the whole business
wasn

t so utterly stupid she could be really
angry over it.

She had turned the launch into the
mill dyke when
another thought came to her. She had
forgotten to book
a room at an hotel for him.

She bumped the quay heading rather
badly as she
came alongside it and was annoyed with
herself for doing
so. As she made a second attempt
to moor she could
almost hear Hugh on the subject
of giving full attention
to the business in hand.

Then, stepping on to the quay
with the mooring line
in her hand, she heard the rattle
of oars in rowlocks. She
secured the line, then looked toward
the dyke opening and
recognized Hugh

s form as he
bent to his oars.

Desmond came rather
clumsily to her side.

A friend
of yours?


I

ve
met him
two or
three times. We had tea to
gether in Cromer. He

s
an author, doing a book on bird
life.


Oh, well, I don

t suppose
he needs our help. Let

s
get inside. It

s cold
out
here.


Just a
moment. I
don

t think he would have come
up the dyke unless he
wanted to
talk
to me.

A few
seconds later Hugh
turned
his head and with a few deft strokes on the oars brought his craft alongside.


I didn

t intend butting in when you had company, but the light seemed about right.

She smiled.

You

d like the key of the Mill?


If it

s not too much trouble.


None at all. In the meantime, meet my friend and business partner.

After making the swift introduction she ran to the house for the key. She was absent for only a very short while, but when she returned Hugh was sitting in his boat puffing furiously on his pipe, Desmond glaring darkly at his profile. Hugh thanked her as she handed him the key and looked up at her with an expression she could not fathom.


I

ll only be about half an hour. Suppose I just drop the key through your letter-box when I

ve finished? I wouldn

t want to disturb you.

She laughed.

Just as you like. But opening the door to you wouldn

t be any disturbance.


No
?
Well, I

ll put it through the letter-box all the same.

There was something odd about his voice and manner. It was more than likely that he disapproved of Des

s mode of dress, too. Perhaps he was rather over-dressed for the country. She supposed country people were more conservative in their mode of dress. Certainly Hugh and Ted were—even young Peter.

Sara walked with Desmond up the short path to the front door. She expected him to make some comment about the house before they reached the door, but he stepped inside without saying anything at all. The fact troubled her until she remembered that houses, flats or any other kind of dwelling were all the same to him. If they were dry and warm that was all that mattered. She turned to close the front door and saw Hugh had moved his dinghy out of line with the front windows of the
house. Apparently he did not wish in any way to seem intrusive. Did he imagine she and Des required all that much privacy?

After inviting Des to make himself at home in the sitting room, Sara went into the kitchen to prepare lunch. There she changed her mind about a decision she had made earlier on. Des would be more at his ease eating baked beans and spaghetti served on the kitchen table than he would be in the dining room having a three
-
course lunch. She did not mind simple eating, and he was her guest, also they would be eating in some style in the evening.

He came into the kitchen as she was at the stove and settled on one chair with his feet on the other. He gave a large yawn.


Not a bad pad. Dead, though. Nothing to see out of the windows except trees and water.


Yes, I find it rather quiet, though I expect that

s a thing which could grow on you after a while.


I wouldn

t give it a chance to grow on me. A few days of this would drive me up the wall.

He paused.


Do you actually have to live here to fulfil the terms of the will? Couldn

t you get around it by staying long weekends?


I

m not sure what is legally meant by taking up residence, but—


See another lawyer. I
’ll
bet if you even leave a couple of suitcases here, that would make it legal.


I was going to say I wouldn

t break faith with my aunt.


Break faith! Why, you didn

t even know the old girl.


Just the same—

He got up and stared out of the window. Then he turned restlessly.


Got a transistor anywhere?


No, but there

s television in the sitting room. There might be something to interest you on that.

He grunted.

You know what that is on Saturday afternoons—Grandstand
!’


Well, lunch will be ready in a few minutes. If you want something to do, see to the table.

As they were eating lunch, he brought up again the subject of opening a boutique in Norwich.


Would you be willing to stay here and manage it
?

she asked, knowing full well what his answer would be.


Me stay out in the sticks
?

He looked genuinely shocked.

I wouldn

t even begin to think about it.


Then why should you think I

d want to?

He shrugged.

You

re a girl. Girls are different. They

re more
...
more
...’


Adaptable? Is that the word you want?


Sort of. They

re not in business for the whole of their lives like a man is. I mean most of them get married and—


And until they get married it

s all right to push them around and cajole them into doing jobs they don

t want to do.


Who

s pushing you around? You

re talking like a suffragette.

Sara laughed.

Perhaps I am one. It must be in the blood. My aunt was. But let

s drop the subject of opening up in Norwich. This girl you

ve engaged—what is she like?


About twenty, tall, long-haired, blonde, good figure and a snazzy dresser.


How much experience of the business has she
?


Two years. Four different places like ours. The last one was
Maison Petite.


Well, she sounds all right. Did you tell her the job was only temporary?


Only temporary! What on earth do you mean
?
You don

t get
a
cute number
like Stella on a temporary
basis.


But when I come back
she won

t be needed. In fact
we won

t be able to afford
her. Naturally, I

ll pay her
wages for the thirteen weeks
I

ll be away, but after
that—


But we agreed on the phone
that it would be a good
idea to open a branch. I

ve already
got an agent on
the job looking for suitable premises.

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