Next Door to Romance (11 page)

Lisa, who was near enough to overhear the remark, agreed entirely. Without Tom's help, she didn't know what she'd have done without Mark. He'd handled big, clumsy articles for her, talked hesitant purchasers into committing themselves, and more personally, made what would otherwise have been a tiring and even boring afternoon very much easier and certainly gayer for her. She knew she'd have to thank him personally, but it wasn't going to be a very easy thing to do because her thoughts and feelings were in such a chaotic state. How could it be otherwise?

Mrs Cosgrave had been so certain that Mark and her daughter Evadne were going to make a match of it. Yet Mark had made it clear that he'd been afraid Tom might mean so much to her that there was no chance for him —surely she couldn't have been mistaken about that! And yet the two statements were so entirely unreconcilable!

'I know what's the matter with you.' Mark appeared suddenly and surveyed her judicially with her head on one side. 'You've had your nose to the grindstone so long that it's time you had a break! Come on, we're going to do the side shows. No, never mind if it isn't officially closing time. We're going to play hookey!' And tucking his arm through hers, he led her, laughing and protesting, to the paddock.

'Now then, swings, roundabouts, have a gamble at bingo or have your fortune told?' he asked with a large, embracing gesture of his arm which took in all these attractions. 'Or the lot? Nothing niggardly about me!'

Lisa laughed breathlessly.

'It might be a gamble to have one's fortune told,' she suggested cautiously.

'Oh, let's take a chance,' Mark urged, and read aloud the intriguing notices on the fortune-teller's tent: '
Madam Zaza from the mysterious East. Your future is an open book to her
! 5/-
by crystal ball, cards or palm
. What a marvellous write-up—even if it does end on a somewhat sordid note!' He put his hand in his pocket and drew out some silver. 'Does she see us one at a time or both together?'

'Whichever we Like, I expect,' Lisa replied. 'But you won't get two for the price of one! I can tell you that!'

'Hallo!' He looked at her curiously. 'Sounds as if you know the lady.'

'I do. It's Miss Catling who keeps the wool shop,' Lisa explained. 'She's really very good—of course, she knows so much about us all that I suppose it isn't difficult—'

Mark's eyes narrowed slightly and he slid the money back into his pocket.

'On second thoughts, I think we'll give the lady a miss,' he announced. 'Come on, let's have a go on the swings!'

They had two goes, then one on the roundabout. It was just as they were getting off that that Lisa saw Tom—and a pretty little dark girl whose face was turned up to his as they laughed together over some joke or other. Tom looked as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

'And why shouldn't he?' Lisa demanded of herself. 'I'm very, very glad!
I'm
having a good time and I certainly don't want him to be miserable on my account! That would be dog-in-the-manger!' and she didn't stop to ask herself why it was necessary to be so emphatic about it.

The four of them stopped to speak for a moment or so. Tom performed the necessary introductions and then they drifted apart—

By now, the garden and paddock were emptying. Reluctant children were being dragged home by mothers who had got an evening meal to serve before returning for the dance which was to be held in the biggest marquee in which teas had been served during the afternoon. Already the little tables, trestles and chairs were being stacked out of the way while a band of volunteers were energetically sweeping out crumbs and the odd bits of broken crockery. Mark paused for a moment to watch.

'You know, I'd no idea all this activity went on in the country,' he told Lisa. 'I'd got the impression— I suppose most people who live in towns have it—that life was dull and monotonous and time just hung on one's hands. But it's not a bit like that! Lots of people seem to have lots of fun—and do they work for it! Yes, it's a revelation to me all right!'

'Sometimes there's almost too much to do—' Lisa remarked, but she didn't think Mark heard. He'd been rather like that all the afternoon—charming, gay, making himself useful most of the time and then, quite suddenly, he'd become preoccupied—she felt as if they might be miles apart, even as if he was unaware that she existed. And then, as suddenly, he'd be with her again.

There must be something on his mind, she thought, and wondered what it was—only, of course, she couldn't ask—it would be too much like—well encouraging him to say more than he was ready to—or might ever want to. So she found herself tongue-tied.

She realized that Mark was steering her towards where his car was parked in what had been the old stable yard, and she stopped so suddenly in her tracks that for a moment or so Mark kept on walking, not realizing that she was no longer beside him. Then he, too, stood still and turned about.

'Something wrong?' he asked anxiously.

'You don't have to take me home,' Lisa told him mutinously.

'Oh yes, I do,' Mark retorted, once again putting his arm through hers. 'I always do what I want to if it's humanly possible—and I certainly want to be with you as much as possible! And that reminds me, will it be all right if I come and collect you in time for the dance? I mean, you haven't made any other arrangements, have you?'

'No,' Lisa said steadily. 'No other arrangements.'

She was glad that Tom had struck up this perhaps rather sudden friendship with Celia Palmer. In the circumstances it was the best thing that could have happened. And yet it hurt a little bit that he hadn't even bothered to tell her that this year he wouldn't be able to take her to the dance—it wasn't like Tom to be so casual.

'Good!' she heard Mark say with such evident relief that it was clear even now he wasn't entirely reassured about Tom's possible claims on her. 'And Lisa, I know you'll have some duty dances and, of course, others you'd like to dance with friends. But keep every one you possibly can for me, will you? Particularly—' his lips curved in a teasing, reminiscent smile— 'the first, the last and the supper dance?'

'Very well,' she promised, her pulse quickening. She had danced before with Mark, but wonderful though that had been, it had happened before she realized that she was in love with him. Tonight, knowing that, it would be an experience that would be out of this world!

Later, when she was dressing, she heard Tom's car drive in, but until she came downstairs it didn't occur to her that she had, perhaps, been rather precipitate in assuming that he wouldn't be expecting to take her over to the Manor. He was waiting in the hall as she came down the stairs and smiled up at her.

'Good girl, bang on time!' he said approvingly. 'Shall we get straight off?'

She stood stock still on the bottom stair.

'But, Tom, you didn't say anything about taking me,' she protested, and saw his face darken.

'Nor did either of us say anything about not going together,' he reminded her.

'I think we've both fallen into the same fault,' Lisa said in a high, cold little voice she'd never used to Tom before. 'Taking too much for granted. I, that if you'd wanted to take me, you'd have had the good manners to tell me so. You, in assuming that I'd want to go with you—'

There followed a silence which seemed to Lisa to be endless. Then, instead of saying he was sorry or arguing about it, Tom said very quietly: 'How you've changed, Lisa!' turned sharply, and went across to the door that led to his part of the house.

Involuntarily Lisa took a step towards him, her hand outstretched.

'Tom!'

But Tom had closed the door between them.

A little later, Mark arrived. Lisa ran out to meet him, turned for a brief wave to her parents, watching from their sitting room window, and jumped in beside Mark. And if Tom was watching, so much the better! He'd behaved intolerably, and no girl of any spirit—

Mark laid his hand over hers. 'What's bothering you, Lisa?'

'Nothing!' she said quickly. 'What made you think there was?'

'You seemed so deep in thought,' Mark explained.

'Oh—yes, perhaps I was. I was—thinking about the dance—and what fun it would be— 'she equivocated.

'Little liar!' Mark's voice had a note of amused tenderness in it. 'People who are thinking about pleasant things don't have their hands clenched together in their laps as you had!'

'Oh—' Lisa laughed uncertainly as she hurriedly unclasped her hands, 'I shall have to be careful—I didn't know you noticed so much!'

'I notice everything even remotely connected with you,' Mark told her. 'You don't mind, do you, Lisa?'

'No, I don't mind,' she breathed, her eyes like stars. Tom and their little upset were completely forgotten.

Just as Lisa had anticipated, it was an evening of sheer enchantment. The warmth of the day lingered to such a degree that the sides of the marquee were rolled up, and as they danced and the daylight faded, they were able to watch the changing beauty of the sky—living opal of gold and red and green as the sun set. Then a clear, greenish-blue that slowly turned through darker blue to velvety purple.

There were some dances which Lisa had to have with other people, but in the main she and Mark danced together and she knew perfectly that they were arousing both interest and curiosity by their obvious interest in one another. Mrs Blewett, for one, hardly took her eyes off them as she sat watching the dancing with some of her old cronies. Heads leaned together and tongues wagged—and Lisa didn't care! This was her evening —hers and Mark's—and what other people thought just didn't matter. Of Tom she saw nothing, so presumably he hadn't come to the Manor. She was sorry things had turned out the way they had, but really, was there any need for her to blame herself? In view of the fact that Tom, besides not having asked her to be his partner, had earlier in the day obviously found quite a lot of pleasure in Celia Palmer's company was surely reason enough for her to assume that he'd made his own arrangements for the evening!

There was a sudden crackling bang from the paddock. The firework display was about to begin and everyone trooped excitedly out, Lisa and Mark among them. But instead of keeping to the path that everyone else was using, he drew her aside to a narrower one.

'This way!' he whispered.

'But that leads to the rose garden—and Mr Cosgrave has made it quite clear that it's out of bounds for the Fete,' Lisa objected, pulling away from him.

'It's not out of bounds for us,' Mark insisted. 'Please, Lisa! We'll have almost as good a view of the fireworks as in the paddock. And we'll have it to ourselves.'

It was very lovely in the rose garden, still and quiet and peaceful. And though they could not see the flowers, their perfume was everywhere. In the distance they could hear the band, still faithfully playing on, but now, by chance, they were playing a medley of the sweeter, older tunes. They blended perfectly with the magic of the rose garden.

Lisa's heart quickened to the sheer intoxication of the night, and so, it seemed, did Mark's. Just for a moment he hesitated, then slowly, very gently, he drew her into his arms. Lisa felt herself trembling, not with fear but with the nearness and dearness of Mark—and the knowledge that he felt as she did.

'Lisa!' He did no more than breathe her name, but it said everything—it told her that he loved her, it asked her for her love.

Simply and fearlessly Lisa held her face up to his and their lips met.

Time passed. Great flaming flowers filled the sky with their transient beauty. Mr Cosgrave, concerned to see that no one was transgressing the very few conditions he had laid down, came to the entry to the rose garden, paused for a moment and went quietly away again.

But of all this, neither Mark nor Lisa was aware. This was their moment, their world.

Late though it was when Mark returned to the Manor after having taken Lisa home that night, he heard his name called as he crossed the hall. He frowned irritably. It was in many ways very pleasant to stay at the Manor, but he was growing increasingly aware that there always seemed someone who was checking his every movement. This time it wasn't Evadne, however, but her father who intercepted him.

Mark was smiling as he went into the study.

'You wanted me, sir?' he asked pleasantly.

'Just wanted to have a word with you. Won't keep you long.' Mr Cosgrave stubbed out his cigar, his eyes intent on Mark's face. 'You're looking very pleased with yourself, young man!' he commented.

'Then I'm looking just the way I feel,' Mark said jubilantly—but at the same time, he instinctively braced his shoulders. The significance of the movement was not lost to the older man.

'So it's to be the little Bellairs girl,' Mr Cosgrave stated rather than asked.

'Yes, sir. That's quite definite,' Mark said firmly.

Mr Cosgrave nodded.

'That's the way I like to hear a young man speak,' he said approvingly. 'You know your own mind, and you're not afraid to speak it.'

Mark said nothing, but his eyes grew wary. He knew the old man in this mood—to all appearances approving to the point of paying compliments, then, having lulled his opponent to complacency, he would begin to criticize, constructively at first, but by the end he would have destroyed everything. Mark had seen the method applied many times both to men and to women and had appreciated the shrewdness of it. But now that he was almost certainly going to be on the receiving end, he wondered just how he would make out. It would all depend on just how valuable the old man felt him to be.

'Of course as you know, Mark, I had hoped—'

Leaving his sentence unfinished, Mr Cosgrave selected another cigar, prepared and lit it before going on slowly: 'I had hoped that you and Evadne might make a match of it—' he paused again, cocking an enquiring eye at 'Mark.

Mark shook his head.

'With Evadne's beauty and brains, she really should look higher than an ordinary bloke like me,' he said diplomatically.

A muscle twitched at the corner of Simon Cosgrave's mouth. He fully appreciated the skill with which Mark had got himself out of that particular pitfall, but he hadn't finished with him yet.