Next Door to Romance (4 page)

Lisa dressed for the evening's festivities in a bemused state of mind. Fortunately, though officially this was Tom's one evening off during the week, he had been called over to the Ranstead Kennels to see a suspected case of hard-pad and was not back yet. So it didn't matter that every now and again Lisa would stop doing anything to stand perfectly still, her hands lax, lost in daydreams—

Daydreams that might come true. Or could they?

'People can't fall in love in a matter of moments, not knowing anything about one another!'

At least, girls could. She'd learnt that this morning! But men? Unconsciously she shook her head. Her experience of men was so limited. Her father, her brother Tom—people you knew so well that you more or less knew the way their minds worked. But that wasn't much good in the present situation because, of course, it was out of the question that any of them should ever look at her in the way the man in the car had—as if she was someone very special, the like of whom he had never seen before! Why, that was exactly what she'd been wishing could happen only a very short time previously! And that it had happened so promptly was surely too much of a coincidence if there wasn't a definite plan for them to meet, a careful contrivance by the Fates—

On the other hand, their meeting had been so brief, so overshadowed by Tom's presence, that if anything was to come of it, they would simply
have
to meet again —and fairly soon at that! And, Lisa thought resignedly, there wasn't a thing she could do about it! Perhaps she was old-fashioned, but to her way of thinking, it had to be left to the man to set the pace—and the objective—for a love affair to come to a successful conclusion.

And that brought her back to the point where she had started. Just how much did meeting her mean to him? Enough to make him want to see her again? Enough to spur him on to finding out who she was and where she lived? How could she possibly tell? Only time would show, and there could be occasions when time went very slowly. Lisa was afraid that this might be one of them—

At last, with a final glance in her mirror, she went downstairs. Mrs Bellairs, sitting by a window mending household linen, looked up with a smile as she came in. But it was a smile that became suddenly fixed. There was something different from usual about Lisa. To her mother's eyes she always looked pretty, but now—well, perhaps you couldn't claim beauty for her, but there was something—a sort of glow. And her eyes—it was as though a light was shining through them.

'She's in love,' Mrs Bellairs told herself with complete conviction. 'Head over heels in love! She would be, of course, being Lisa! She never was one to do things by halves! But who—who? Not Tom, I'm afraid, dear boy. Not suddenly, like this! But that look wasn't there yesterday and so far as I know, she's met no other man today. How I wish I hadn't been out most of this morning and afternoon. I might have had a better idea—perhaps it is Tom! Oh well, I'll know for certain about that as soon as I see them together. Oh dear, that's the final proof! Absent-mindedness !'

For Lisa, neat and charming as could be down as far as her feet, was still wearing her old scuffed sandals.

'Very nice indeed, dear,' Mrs Bellairs approved. 'That greeny-blue suits your colouring. But you won't forget to change your shoes, will you?'

Lisa glanced down at her feet and gasped.

'Oh, how stupid of me!' she said breathlessly, the colour rising in her cheeks. 'How could I have forgotten ! I'll go up and put them on—'

When she came back, Tom was with her and one glance at his face told Mrs Bellairs what she had wanted to know. There was no answering light there. Indeed, his face might have been a mask, so expressionless was it.

When they had left, Mrs Bellairs sat very still for a while, thinking, wondering, worrying in the way of mothers. Then, resolutely, she gave herself a shake and the good advice not to be silly.

'Because, though I
would
like it to be Tom, for he's such a dear boy and I do think he'd make her happy, there
are
other nice men, and after all, she's got to be the one to choose! I'm just a meddling old woman who wants to avoid trouble. I want her to be safe, whereas she, at her age, doesn't worry about safety. It's
newness
and adventure that matter and—' very resolutely, 'I'm just
going
to like whoever it is she chooses, because if I don't, I'll lose Lisa!'

The Village Hall at Addingly wasn't a very impressive building, but it had one great advantage—a really large car park. As a result, any affairs held there were usually well attended if only because it was difficult to find any excuse not to do so. Even Lisa and Tom, arriving rather late, had no difficulty in finding a place to park.

It was Lisa who first noticed the white car parked unostentatiously in the shadow of some trees, but the involuntary catch of her breath called Tom's attention to it, and though neither of them referred to it, each had the conviction, from their own point of view, that its presence was going to affect the whole evening.

When they went into the Hall, however, there was no sign of the young man of the morning, and Lisa told herself severely that though it was a
similar
car, in all probability it was an entirely different one.

And then, as a little crowd of people who had been chatting together moved apart, she saw him. Perfectly at his ease, he was talking and laughing with the Rector who, catching Lisa's eye, called to her.

'Oh, Lisa, I want you to do something for me!' he said genially. 'This is Mr Saville who is staying with his friends at Bardley Manor. Mr Saville, Miss Bellairs. Lisa, this is Mr Saville's first visit to Addingly, so naturally he doesn't know anyone. I wonder if you'd take him under your wing and introduce him—oh, excuse me, I see my wife is beckoning to me. Nothing wrong, I hope—'

He drifted away, leaving Lisa to wonder if this could possibly be more than chance.

Her mind was quickly set at rest.

'I'm going to be quite honest with you about this,' Mark declared with a disarming frankness which Lisa found most attractive. 'I came here on the off chance that you'd be here as well—but I never had a hope of such luck as this! What a nice man the Rector is!'

The mischievous twinkle in his eyes was once again too much for Lisa, but this time, with Tom out of the picture, she chuckled appreciatively.

'That's a very nice sound,' her new acquaintance approved. 'You ought to make it often!'

Lisa immediately grew serious. He was amusing—and charming. But he also took her breath away a little with his rapid assumption of the right to pay her somewhat fulsome compliments. Something warned her that she must not let him take too much for granted.

'If you'll come with me, I'll introduce you to some people,' she said pleasantly.

'Well—look, need we worry?' he asked persuasively. 'Quite frankly, I didn't come here to meet people in general—it was simply the hope of seeing you. So couldn't we just dance together? Listen, the band's started up!' and he held out his hand to take hers.

Lisa shook her head.

'I'm sorry, Mr Saville, but I'm engaged for this dance.'

'That red-headed chap?' Mark asked, and when she nodded: 'Well, why not stand him up and dance with me instead? After all, he's not making much effort to claim you, is he? So—?'

That was taking too much for granted. Self-respect —perhaps not untinged with a hint of subtle coquetry— dictated her reply.

'Perhaps, Mr Saville, it would be a good idea if I were to explain our local etiquette in such circum-stances,' she said coolly. 'If a man brings a girl to a dance, as Mr Farrier has brought me, he has first claim on her company. And that means that as well as some other dances, he has unquestionable right to having the first, last and supper dance with her. Ah, here is Mr Farrier, so, if you'll excuse me, I'm sure you'll find a partner without my help.' And with an unmistakably dismissive smile, she turned away from Mark to greet Tom—an obviously annoyed Tom.

'Was that fellow annoying you?' he asked truculently. 'Taking advantage of our chance encounter with him this morning to force his company on you?'

'Sh! No, nothing like that, Tom. Just the Rector asked me to introduce him to a few people—but I hadn't time to before the music started and you joined me,' Lisa explained, and reassured herself that it was the truth, even if not all of it. But it was the first time that she had ever equivocated in her dealings with Tom, and she didn't like the feeling. Yet it seemed the only thing to do if trouble was to be avoided.

'Oh—' obviously Tom was not entirely satisfied.

'Well, all right. Let's dance, shall we?'

They circled the hall in silence. Tom, though nothing spectacular, was quite a good dancer. Lisa, as a rule, was at least his equal, but tonight she was preoccupied and several times failed to follow Tom's steps. Each time he obeyed the convention of apologizing as if the fault was his, and each time Lisa murmured that no, it had been her fault, but apart from this they could find nothing to talk about and it was a relief to Lisa when the dance came to an end.

Tom led her off the floor and almost immediately she was claimed by the Rector's son, down for the weekend from London. Then Dr Mayhew claimed her. Then another dance with Tom. He seemed to have regained his spirits now, for he had plenty to talk about, including a piece of news.

'You know I was over at Ranstead at the kennels late this afternoon? Well, the celebrated niece has arrived already!'

'No!' Lisa exclaimed. 'Celia something or other. What's she like?'

'Celia Palmer—Mrs Blewett's sister's daughter. I think she must have taken after her father!'

'You mean she's not such a pest as you thought she might be?' Lisa asked, and Tom nodded.

'A very pleasant, practical young woman who has every intention of standing on her own feet and not other people's! Which reminds me, she isn't going to live with Auntie. She's going to spend a few days there, but then she's moving over to Ranstead. There's packs of room in that old house and it's obviously a much better arrangement on all scores.'

'I should think so,' Lisa agreed heartily. 'All the same, she may find it difficult—Mrs Blewett isn't one to give up her ideas without a struggle, particularly when she's told everybody—'

'Well, I think she'll have met her match this time,' Tom said cheerfully. 'I can't see this girl knuckling under to a bossy old woman—'

'You make her sound rather bossy herself,' Lisa commented, not altogether approving of Tom's praise for this newcomer.

'Do I? Then I've done her an injustice,' Tom said promptly. 'No, she's simply the sort of person who looks facts in the face and acts accordingly. I'm sure you'll like her, Lisa.'

'I hope so,' Lisa replied. 'Because it's much nicer to like people than not. But the really important thing is that you should get on with her all right, because the Kennels have always been good clients of yours, haven't they?'

'Yes,' Tom said shortly. It wasn't in the least the reaction he bad hoped for! Not that he had really expected to make Lisa jealous by his praise of another girl, but it had occurred to him that, with every justification, she had rather come to take him for granted. So it wouldn't be a bad thing if she were to realize that he could find another girl attractive—but all that had happened was that Lisa had regarded the matter from a practical angle. It was hopeless! He began to wish he had backed out of coming to this confounded dance—

'Tired, Tom?' Lisa asked sympathetically.

To Tom it was the last straw. He wanted love—and all she gave him was friendly sympathy!

'Yes, I
am
tired,' he told her explosively. 'Tired of you being so blind—'

Lisa looked at him in sheer amazement. Tom had never spoken to her like that before—then she saw the expression in his eyes and understood. Colour flooded her cheeks and, missing step, she stumbled—

Tom steadied her, his face grim now. She knew his secret and there was no drawing back—

'Lisa, let's go outside,' he said urgently. 'I've got to talk to you—'

Mutely she complied and in silence they went out into the pleasant little garden plot which surrounded the hall. But other people, that lovely summer night, had had the same idea.

'We'll walk up the lane,' Tom said shortly, and with his hands thrust deep into his pockets and his shoulders bowed, he led the way. Lisa's heart ached for him. In a flash she had understood that Tom loved her—in a very particular sense—and intuition told her that even before he had asked the all-important question and she had given him her reply, he knew what it was going to be.

At last, where a little spinney of trees gave them shelter from inquisitive eyes, he stopped and faced her, and saw the tears brimming over.

'Stop that,' he said harshly. 'I don't want your pity—'

'They're not just for you—they're for me .as well,' she told him forlornly through quivering lips. 'I do like you so much, Tom, that I truly do wish—'

He caught her hands in his.

'Lisa, if you feel like that, won't you give me a chance to—to try to teach you to love me?' he asked eagerly. 'Don't you see, if you
want
to love me, you must be pretty near to doing it—'

Lisa was silent. Put like that, it did sound a possibility. And yet she could not bring herself to admit it.

Very gently Tom drew her to him and put a hand under her chin, turning her face up to his. His lips were very near to hers. Then, desperately, she freed herself.

'No, Tom, no!' she begged urgently. 'Please, please—'

Instantly his hands dropped to his sides.

'I see,' he said heavily. 'I've said nothing because I thought it was too soon, but now—I've left it too late, haven't I?'

She didn't know how to answer. She couldn't bring herself to admit aloud, and to Tom of all people, that her two brief encounters that day with Mark Saville made it impossible for her to deny Tom's assertion. She could hardly believe it herself, and yet—

'All right,' Tom said gruffly. 'There's no need for you to tell me. You're a different person from the one you were this morning, Lisa. You've lost something— and, I suppose you feel, gained something. But at least there's one thing for sure—you're never going to be quite the same person you were when we went down to the river early this morning!'