Next Door to Romance (16 page)

Mark who knew quite certainly that the old man meant to manoeuvre or force a meeting at the earliest possible moment, nodded understandingly.

'I quite see the point, darling,' he said sympathetically. 'In Sir Gerald's shoes I'd feel the same way. But the old man may be a bit difficult to handle, you know. He likes his own way—'

'Yes, but we can't have our friends bothered just because in Mr Cosgrave's opinion knowing them has a snob value,' Lisa said firmly. 'I'm sorry to put it so bluntly, Mark, but I'm afraid that is the reason—'

'Oh, come—' Mark said uneasily. It had never occurred to him that Lisa might be difficult and make a stand like this.

'Well, if that isn't the reason, what is?' Lisa asked, as she felt, very reasonably. But that was a question that Mark had no wish to answer, though he could easily have done so. 'No, I'm sure I'm right because of something Mrs Cosgrave let slip.'

'What did she say?' Mark asked sharply. Like Mr Cosgrave, he had little respect for Mrs Cosgrave's intelligence and tact! In fact, she had an absolute gift for saying the wrong thing at the very worst time!

'Why, just that Mr Cosgrave wants to get in with the people round about,' Lisa explained rather unwillingly. Mrs Cosgrave, she thought, was the nicest one of the family and it seemed rather a shame to tell tales on her, but she had got to make Mark understand— 'Actually, she altered it to Mr Cosgrave feeling that he ought to take an interest in the place where he lives—but that was only because she felt she'd been a bit too frank.'

A lot too frank! Mark thought grimly. He could imagine just what the old man would say if that indiscretion was repeated to him! For a moment he hesitated, wondering just what was the best way to deal with a situation which had rapidly got out of hand. Lisa, however, completely misinterpreted his silence.

'Mark, you're not still angry with me, are you?' she asked wistfully.

'Angry with you?' He was genuinely surprised by the question. 'Good heavens, no! Why should I be?'

'Well, for saying just what I thought about Mr Cosgrave and—and for showing I didn't like Mr Singleton kissing me,' she explained.

Mark smiled reassuringly and took her hands in his.

'My silly sweet, of course not,' he told her reproachfully. 'As if I could be! After all, you're probably right about the old man being a snob—' Better let her think that, he decided, rather than let her guess what really lay behind Simon's determination to make very profitable use of Lisa's connection with Sir Gerald. 'And as for Jack—' his face darkened, 'Kitty was right. He will get into trouble one of these days if he doesn't watch out! And that I've made very clear to him!'

'Oh, have you!' Lisa said thankfully. 'I'm so glad, Mark! He's—he's rather horrible, isn't he?'

'I suppose he is from your point of view—and I can't say I'm personally sorry you feel like that about him! All the same, he's quite a useful man to know—not that you need worry your dear little head about that,' he added hurriedly.

Just for a moment he thought he saw a queer look in Lisa's eyes, part suspicion, part disgust—as if, despite what he'd said to the contrary, she felt he did want her to tolerate Jack Singleton's unpleasant familiarity for the sake of his 'usefulness'. And when he saw the relief that flooded into her expressive face when she fully realized the significance of his reassurance, he knew he hadn't been mistaken. Yet he simply couldn't believe that such an idea would ever occur to Lisa with her sweet, unworldly outlook on life. So somebody else must have put it into her mind.

That redheaded vet? It could be.

Well, that was something he had every intention of finding out in the very near future. In the meantime, he knew he'd got to cut this interlude short. The old man would be waiting for his report. But there was just one more thing he had to find out.

'I don't suppose Sir Gerald often comes down here, does he?' he asked as if the question had only just occurred to him. 'Because, if not, I don't really see that you've anything to worry about.'

'No, he doesn't come very often. He's too busy,' Lisa explained. 'But—Mark, please, please don't tell anyone this, but Uncle's buying a cottage—oh, not actually here, but pretty near, just for weekends. That's why I'm so anxious that he shan't be embarrassed by having to accept invitations from—well, almost strangers, when what he wants is just to get away from everything.'

'Yes, I quite see.' Mark bent his head to kiss her so that she shouldn't see the satisfaction which he knew quite well must have shown in his face. 'Trust me, darling!'

'I do!' Lisa said earnestly. 'Absolutely, Mark!'

Sunday at the Manor was a far happier day for Lisa than Saturday had been. For one thing, the Singletons went off soon after breakfast to visit friends in Eastbourne. Mr Cosgrave spent the morning doing the rounds of the grounds and glasshouses with his head gardener, and Mrs Cosgrave was happily employed writing letters to her many relatives.

'A lot of spongers,' Mr Cosgrave commented contemptuously. 'Hadn't any use for us in our early days when they were afraid we might try to borrow off them! But it's a different story now. Still, if Violet enjoys playing Lady Bountiful—' he shrugged his heavy shoulders and went off on his own concerns.

Evadne—no one seemed to know or care where Evadne was or what she was doing, so, with a clear conscience, Lisa agreed to Mark's suggestion that they should go for a drive.

'Anywhere you'd particularly like?' he asked as they started off.

Lisa shook her head.

'Anywhere will be lovely so long as we're together,' she said blissfully.

Mark laid his hand over hers.

'You are a sweetie, aren't you?' he said tenderly. 'I can't tell you what it means to me that you're not afraid of letting me know—' He paused as a dog suddenly dashed across the road just in front of them causing them to break sharply. 'Confound it, why will people let their wretched animals stray all over the place like that! If the road had been at all wet, that might have ditched us!'

To Lisa's disappointment the incident seemed to have distracted his thoughts from what he had been saying, for instead of returning to it, he remarked casually:

'That reminds me, Mrs Cosgrave has decided she wants a dog for company when she's on her own down here. What breed do you suggest?'

'Oh, doesn't that rather depend on Mrs Cosgrave's personal taste?' Lisa suggested doubtfully. 'And the purpose for which she wants the dog? I mean, is it to be a watchdog or purely a companion? And then there's the question of how much exercising it there should be. Some breeds need more than others, you know.'

'No, I can't say I did know,' Mark confessed. 'But you seem to know quite a lot. Comes of having a vet always at your beck and call, I expect!'

'I've certainly learned quite a lot from Tom, of course,' Lisa said quietly. 'But quite apart from that, most country folk do know quite a bit about animals.'

'Yes, I suppose so,' Mark sounded apologetic. 'Sorry, Lisa, I shouldn't have said that.'

'No, I don't think you should,' Lisa agreed gravely. 'It—it isn't quite fair either to Tom or to me to imply that—that—'

'That there was something more than friendship between you?' Mark finished. 'All right, I won't, then. And heaven knows, I've no wish to believe it! I want my girl all to myself!'

Lisa slipped her hand under his arm.

'But don't you know that's how it is?' she whispered.

For answer, Mark stopped the car at the side of the road and drew her into his arms.

'There's only one way for me to answer that,' he told her softly, and their lips met.

The next day, Mark and Mr Cosgrave went up to London where they would be until the following weekend. Lisa went home, and found life rather drab and depressing by comparison. And that wasn't only because her only contact with Mark was over the telephone. Though she had never given a thought to the idea of a romance between Tom and herself, she had valued him as a very real friend. They'd spent quite a lot of their free time together and they'd discussed everything under the sun together. Perhaps most important of all, they'd worked together. Now all that had gone, and with Mark away, there was nothing to take its place, for Lisa, at any rate. For Tom—well, he'd got his work, and if he hadn't got Lisa's companionship, that didn't seem to matter because most of his free time he spent with Celia Palmer. Lisa knew that because Mrs Blewett took good care that she should.

'Not, of course, that it's of any interest to you now that you've got that smart young London man after you,' Mrs Blewett suggested, watching Lisa closely out of her beady eyes.

'Oh, but of course it's of interest to me,' Lisa said coolly. 'Tom and I have always been good friends, so naturally I'm glad if he's happy.'

That rather checked Mrs Blewett, as Lisa had hoped it would. After all, what could even such an inveterate gossip make of a remark which showed neither too much nor too little emotion?

She was not prepared for the trouble which that brief encounter caused between Tom and herself. He intercepted her in the hall one day, his face grim and unfriendly.

'Can you possibly spare me a few moments of your valuable time?' he asked ominously.

Instinctively Lisa stiffened.

'Oh, certainly—if it's really important,' she replied coolly.

'In my opinion it is. In here?' he held his sitting room door open.

Lisa went in, her hands deep in the pockets of her dungarees, her face as expressionless as she could make it.

'Well?' she asked.

'Not well at all,' Tom told her grimly. 'There are two things I want to make clear to you.'

'Oh?' Lisa said indifferently.

'Yes. First of all, I must ask you not to gossip about Celia Palmer and me with Mrs Blewett—'

'What!' Lisa was too startled to retain her pose of indifference. 'But I didn't!'

'No? Then how does it come about that Mrs Blewett informed me that you confirmed her guess that Celia and I were going to make a match of it?' he demanded belligerently.

'Oh, Tom, for heaven's sake, don't you know Mrs Blewett yet?' Lisa asked impatiently. 'She cornered me in the High Street. It was she who said you and Celia were going to make a match of it. Then she said it wouldn't interest me, of course, because of Mark. And that put me in a spot.'

'Oh? And why?'

'Because, if I said I couldn't care less, she'd have made something of
that
,' Lisa explained with the overdone patience she might have used to a particularly dull child. 'Sour grapes—something like that. On the other hand, if I'd said it meant a tremendous lot to me that you should—should look at another girl—don't you see where that would have landed me?'

'So what exactly did you say?' Tom asked, breathing rather heavily, but without answering her question.

'Oh—' Lisa's hands flickered expressively, 'just that of course I was interested in what she had told me —that you and I had been good friends, so naturally I hoped you'd be happy.'

'I see. Well, all right,' Tom said gruffly. 'But that still leaves the second thing.'

'Well, buck up,' Lisa urged with something of her old spirit. 'I've got a lot to do even if you haven't.'

'Right!' Tom snapped. 'And please take this in! When any of your new friends want pets, kindly refrain from sending them to me for advice!'

'I didn't, as it happens,' Lisa retorted. 'But if I had, wouldn't it have been a practical thing to have done? After all, you
do
know a bit about the characteristics of different breeds—'

'I do,' Tom agreed grimly. 'But I don't relish having it suggested that I must make quite a nice little bit on the side from breeders by pushing their particular breed.'

'Oh no!' Lisa exclaimed furiously. 'Who on earth suggested that?'

'Mrs Cosgrave,' Tom told her.

Unconsciously Lisa gave a sigh of relief.

'Oh, Tom, but you can't take offence at anything she says!' she insisted. 'She's rather a dear, but she is terribly, terribly tactless, and—and rather simple, I think. Honestly, she didn't mean to suggest anything unpleasant.'

'That's how I read her,' Tom admitted. 'In fact, it surprised me that she could have thought up anything so unpleasant as that, until I realized that the only explanation must be that someone else had put the idea into her head. I wonder who that could have been, Lisa?'

'I don't know—and I don't care,' Lisa said recklessly. 'It's nothing to do with me, because all I said when I was asked to suggest a breed was that it seemed to me to depend on the personal feelings of the prospective owner and the purpose for which the dog was to be kept. And I also said that the best thing was to consult someone who knew more about the subject than I do. I didn't suggest any names, and if you think I was doing a useful bit of advertising on your behalf—or on Celia's, for that matter, you're wrong! I'm simply not sufficiently interested—'

She was speaking to the empty air. Tom had gone through into the surgery slamming the door behind him.

Lisa waited for a moment or two in case he should come back to apologize for his behaviour, but he did nothing of the sort. So she went back to her own part of the house and began to clean silver so forcefully that she almost put dents into it.

To Lisa's intense relief, Mrs Cosgrave finally made her choice without any reference to either Tom or Celia.

She selected a miniature black poodle, and though Lisa's personal taste was for larger dogs, it really was a captivating little creature. Like all puppies, it was mischievous and completely casual in its habits, but how could one be cross with it for very long when it was so gay and so obviously happy in human companionship? Mrs Cosgrave adored it, Mr Cosgrave tolerated it, but gave a warning that it had to learn who was master in the house because he'd no use for a badly trained dog.

'And mind you remember that, Violet,' he cautioned his wife. 'If you spoil the animal so that he's a nuisance, I'll have him put down—and that's a promise not a threat!'

Generally Mrs Cosgrave did remember, and Chicot, being extremely intelligent, learnt his manners with reasonable speed, except in one respect. He couldn't bear being left alone. If he was, he howled and barked incessantly. And that, apparently, was a fault which could not be cured. In the end, Mrs Cosgrave gave up trying to. She simply saw to it that the dog never was alone. It seemed to her the simplest solution, and so long as Simon wasn't worried, what did the means matter?