Home is Where the Heart Is (8 page)

With a jolt, Lindsey suddenly realised that Simon Kirkby was not the widower she had supposed him to be after all. She had obviously misunderstood what Andrew had said previously. The possibility of Simon having had a breakdown in his marriage had somehow not entered her head. She swallowed her soup too quickly and choked. Andrew patted her on the back.

"Hey, steady on!"

"So that's why he's so withdrawn and antisocial?"

"I suppose so—It was a blow to his morale, don't you see? Lucy was rather a good catch, but I'm not sure that he ever really loved her. It was more of an infatuation if you ask me. People like Simon, who are wedded to their work shouldn't get married, Lin!"

"But he needs someone to care for him," Lindsey protested.

Andrew shot her a surprised look. "Hey, don't tell me you pity our Simon…! Anyway, Sonia is a pretty good catch too. I honestly don't know how he does it—It surely can't be sex appeal!"

But Lindsey knew that Simon had a certain magnetism and strength of character. She could not define it, but there was something about him that even she found attractive. She thought
of those grey eyes, changeable as the weather; stormy and steely one moment, clear and animated the next, and was certain that there must be a legitimate excuse for his abruptness.

"Young Susan is very much like Lucy in many ways. She has a very complex personality and poor Simon is having a difficult time with her at present. He doesn't seem to understand his
daughter any better than he did his wife…Pass the rolls will you, Lin? Thanks. I must admit I really prefer chapattis with soup." He poured the wine.

"Tell me what this brother of yours does for a living?"

"Oh, Rob's at agricultural college in London. He's coming down at the weekend, as a matter of fact, or so he says. He tends to be a bit unpredictable at the moment, I'm afraid."

"Shows he has a mind of his own.
You must introduce us. Just wait until Sue finds out your mysterious boyfriend is really your brother—I'd like to be a fly on the wall. Perhaps Simon will invite him to dinner, and I can join you all."

But Lindsey wasn't sure whether she wanted Rob to meet Simon, and deep down, she knew it was because she did not want to expose Simon to her brother's youthful criticism.

Later, when Andrew asked Lindsey to dance, she wondered idly what it would be like to dance with Simon Kirkby. She was miles away in a dream world of her own, whirling round to the strains of a Vienna waltz so that Andrew had to ask her the same question three times before it registered.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, do you want to stay here a bit longer or shall we make tracks for home?"

She was immediately contrite. "Oh, I'm sorry, Andrew. Let's go now shall we? It was a lovely meal, but I'm not really in the mood for dancing tonight—a bit tired, I think."

He helped her on with her coat. "That cousin of mine has obviously been over-working you again. He treats people just like automatons, and even they break down sometimes."

"Oh, no, it's not his fault, Andrew. After all it has been my off-duty time most of today."

They walked in silence to the car park, and Andrew suddenly put his arm round her pulling her towards him, but she could not respond to his kisses. Her thoughts were in a complete turmoil, and at last he took the hint and released her. She busied herself pulling on her gloves and turning up her coat collar, fighting all the while for composure.

"I think we ought to get back now, Andrew. I did tell your cousin I wouldn't be too late."

"So that's why you feigned tiredness! —Blow Simon!"

"Andrew, that's not true—I really am tired!" But he didn't answer, just rummaged in his pockets for his car keys; bitterly reflecting that his cousin seemed to have more attraction than himself.

Lindsey was upset for she hadn't intended things to turn out in this manner. She put her hand gently on his arm. "Andrew, please don't be angry. I just don't want to become too involved that's all. Let's see if we can keep our friendship on a platonic level, huh? After all I did tell you about Gavin."

"Yes you did—the lucky devil. I should have learnt my lesson from last time, shouldn't I?"

"Andrew, thank you for a lovely evening. I really did enjoy it—honestly."

His expression relaxed a little and he grinned ruefully.
"Honest injun, eh?  Okay, we must do it again sometime, but I've got the message now loud and clear. And now just one more kiss before our relationship turns platonic. One for the road to remember me by."

"Wow!" said Lindsey shakily afterwards. "I'll certainly remember that!"

Andrew laughed softly. "I intended you to." He looked at the luminous dial on his watch. "Well, as the party's broken up so early, I suppose I might as well put in an hour or so at the hospital. So this really is the parting of the ways then, Lin. What promised to be the start of a beautiful friendship didn't materialise eh? You'll take the high road and I'll take the low. Take care, love—I'll be seeing you around." And with a final wave of the hand he was gone, lost in the shadows. A few moments later she heard the Fiat's engine rev up.

Lindsey was rather sorry, in one sense, but she knew it would resolve a difficult situation. She found Andrew a pleasant and amusing companion, and now that she understood his feelings for Sonia Vincent, she realised that there was no risk of him becoming deeply involved with her, which was just as well in the circumstances because, even if she didn't marry Gavin, she couldn't remain at Balliam Point for ever, as the children were so frequently reminding her. She supposed Andrew had kissed her because he had felt it was expected of him, although she was sure that it hadn't meant any more to him than it had to her.

Of course it was all very well to tell herself that she was not going to become involved with the people here, but hadn't she already become so with the children and Simon Kirkby, in spite of herself?

She sighed as she unlocked the car, and drove off into the night, deep in thought.

Rob did not ring, as he had promised. Lindsey tried to contact him at his digs, but received no reply. She was rather vexed because she didn't know what arrangements had been made for the week-end, and she did not like to trouble
Mrs. Marks. It was typical of Rob to keep her on tenterhooks like that.

On Thursday evening Simon Kirkby went out. Lindsey changing from her loathsome uniform dress into jeans and sweater, had supper with the children in their sitting room that
evening, washed her hair, watched TV and did some mending; a thoroughly peaceful, domestic evening. As soon as the children had gone to bed, however, she settled down to do some typing. She was getting on quite well, but if she worked like the clappers now, she could at least ask for some extra time off at the week-end with a clear conscience, should Rob decide to put in an appearance.

Lindsey became completely engrossed in the articles, and forgot the time. At about 11.30 p.m. she pushed her reading spectacles further on her nose, and paused to flex her aching fingers. She hadn't heard Simon Kirkby return yet, and wondered if he was spending the evening with that dreadful Sonia woman.

"Miss Meredith, I protest!"

Lindsey started violently; he had come into the room without her realising it. She removed her reading glasses, suddenly very conscious of her appearance, for she was still wearing the old denims and sweater and had tied her hair back into bunches with pieces of blue ribbon to enable it to dry more quickly.

"I apologise for my appearance, Mr. Kirkby. I might not look the efficient secretary, but I would remind you that it is 11.30 p.m."

"That is precisely what I am protesting about," he said quietly.

Lindsey in jeans was totally different from Lindsey in uniform. She rose to her full height, blazingly angry.

"I'm trying to get this typing done for you, as quickly as possible, and I should have thought you could at least be grateful. Who am I disturbing in here?"

Simon suddenly looked amused and his features relaxed.

"My dear Miss Meredith, if only we could sometimes have a quiet, rational conversation. It's just like a raging battlefield when we meet."

Lindsey stared at him, the wind completely taken out of her sails.

"I didn't realise you felt that way too but…"

"If only you had waited for me to finish, I was just going to say I protest that you should work so late."

"Oh," said Lindsey in a small voice. And then with that characteristic change of temperament that her family knew so well, she smiled sunnily. "Well, I don't mind. I'm enjoying reading your articles. They're so interesting."

His grey eyes seemed to be laughing at her. "Well that's something, I suppose. Look come and have a night-cap with me, won't you, before turning in? I don't particularly enjoy drinking alone." She followed him meekly into his study and accepted a small whisky, wondering again if he had been with Sonia all evening. The thought disturbed her irrationally. Simon perched himself on the arm of a chair; in his dinner suit he appeared ruggedly handsome and just for a moment, Lindsey pretended that things were different between them and that it was her he had taken out that evening.

Her pulse raced unaccountably quickly, and for a second, she closed her eyes. When she opened them it was to find him staring at her with a strangely gentle expression.

"You're tired. Have I been overworking you? I'm afraid I can't put things over like my cousin Andrew, but you know I do appreciate what you're doing in this household, Miss Meredith. It's an entirely different place since you've been here. It's the little things that count, the flower arrangements, the polished brass and copper, the extra thought that goes into the preparation of the meals. You've already won over Tommy, and you're certainly making progress with Susan. Oh, I know they're not easy children. They miss their mother too much."

Lindsey was astounded. This was one of the longest speeches she had ever heard Simon make, and the first allusion he had made to his wife.

"But I'm afraid Susan doesn't like me."

"Susan is at an age when she needs her mother. She obviously resents another woman attempting to take Lucy's place."

Again Lindsey was surprised that he could be so perceptive. If only he would spend more time with the children. As abruptly, his mood changed. "On Saturday we're going to lunch with Miss Vincent and her mother again. How about taking tomorrow off, and then you would have a peaceful time on Saturday while we're out of the way to get on with the typing."

"It's very kind of you
Mr. Kirkby, but I would much rather work tomorrow and be free on Saturday afternoon if possible. You see I'm expecting a visitor at the weekend."

"I see," said Simon, as if he didn't see at all. "Then you must do as you please. I can't give you all of Saturday free. You will appreciate that the weekend is difficult, as Polly and
Mrs. Parker can only come in for a few hours."

Lindsey pushed back a strand of hair. "Yes
Mr. Kirkby, I do understand and I'd naturally be back in time to cook the tea."

He nodded. She did not realise how child-like she looked with the ridiculous blue ribbon enhancing her ash-blonde hair and her face flushed and rosy from the warmth of the fire. She suddenly became aware that he was scrutinising her.

"You know, as to your appearance, I thought you were a stranger at first. You generally look so prim, I'm terrified of you." He suddenly reached out and touched her hand, catching her completely unawares. "Thank you anyway for everything."

An electric tremor ran up her arm so that, for a moment, she wanted to cry out; to let him know the effect he had on her. Instead she met his gaze steadily, without wavering and said coolly, something which had been in her heart for a long time, and that only now she found the courage to put into words. "If only you would spend a little more time with the children. They are at an impressionable age when they need you. Substitutes like Andrew,
Mrs. Parker and myself are just not good enough."

"Are you accusing me of neglecting them?" he demanded.

"Not materially, no, of course not—but material things are not enough. Tommy and Sue need affection, love and understanding. They want you to take an interest in their schooling and their hobbies, not brush them aside as if they irritate you like some kind of insect."

It was out now and she knew at once, that she had gone too far. His eyes blazed and there was a pregnant silence. To cover her confusion, she busied herself collecting together her glass and the ashtrays and all the while, she was aware of those granite eyes solemnly surveying her.

A log fell spluttering into the hearth, causing her to jump. He bent forward to pick it up and their eyes met. Once more the silence was interminable. She was acutely conscious of his nearness; the fresh smell of shaving lotion mingled with pipe smoke. Her heart beat wildly. Then, just when she was beginning to think he would never speak, he said so quietly that she scarcely heard him,

"One up to you Miss Meredith…so we cannot even spend a congenial half hour together over a drink without a red flag being waved. I thought we had called a truce, at least for a short time, but obviously I was mistaken. You accuse me of neglecting my children…If I hadn't had their welfare at heart, I can assure you that I'd have sent you packing back to that wretched agency, along with the other would-be housekeepers, within a week of your arrival. As it is, for some unaccountable reason, Tommy and Sue seem to have taken to you—Yes, Susan too—
And so, for their sakes and against my better judgement, I've kept you in my employ, because you see I do care for my children, certainly enough to consider their feelings."