Peacock's Walk (6 page)

'I've just attended a very enlightening meeting in the staff room,' he said without preamble. 'Called by one Mark Chanter,' he added significantly, and gave the startled Jenny a curt nod. 'Said it was too pat, didn't I?' he tacked on sourly.

Jenny looked away quickly, waiting for the sermon she was sure she was about to receive, and was

a little surprised when nothing else was said. As she watched him perch himself in his favourite position on the corner of the desk, the thought went through her mind that he wouldn't ever get the opportunity of doing that again. She couldn't see the new owner of Peacock's Walk accepting what he would term as familiarity from the members of staff, in spite of his earlier assertion of wanting the staff to be happy and believing in the personal approach.

Tony's gloomy acceptance of the situation made her feel worse. She would have felt much better if he had lectured her, for she had, as he had said not very long ago, thrown her hat over the windmill with a vengeance, and there was no retrieving it.

She looked down at her hands. 'As usual, you were right,' she said in a low voice. 'I took everything at face value, didn't I? And it's too late to back out now.' She looked back at Tony, who was studying her closely with a worried expression in his eyes. `I'm sorry, Tony, I ought to have made more enquiries. You did warn me.' She shrugged her slim shoulders. 'I was so sure I was doing the right thing,' she ended miserably.

'Wouldn't have done any good if you had made enquiries,' he said dolefully. 'You'd only have found out what Mark Chanter wanted you to find out. The Company's registered in America. Enquiries this end wouldn't have helped, would they?'

Jenny grinned weakly at his stout attempt to make her feel better.

`Why did he change his mind about keeping all

the staff on?' he asked her suddenly, trying to sound offhanded, but Jenny knew better. Like Dodie, he was trying to find out, how this affected her, and she saw no reason why she shouldn't put him in the picture. He had to know some time, and to mislead him now would cause a lot of complications later.

'Because he knew I wouldn't sell otherwise,' she said slowly. 'I told him that when he made the first offer, remember? He also,' she went on hoping her voice did not show the depression she felt, 'thought it would be a good idea if I stayed on as well.'

`Did he?' growled Tony. 'I hope you put him right on that score. From what he said at that meeting, I gather he intends to favour us with his presence for some time to come.' He gave Jenny a searching look. 'And where does that leave you?' he demanded.

Jenny drew in a deep breath. 'Right where I came in,' she answered slowly, 'doing secretarial work.'

'His secretary?' Tony asked with raised brows, and as she nodded confirmatively, he exploded, 'Well, he's got a nerve! Not that I'm all that surprised, mind you,' he hinted darkly. 'No doubt he hopes to take on from where he thought Malcolm left off.'

This was so near the truth that Jenny couldn't help giving him a startled stare, and this confirmed his suspicions. He leant towards her and wagged an admonishing finger at her. 'If you know what's good for you, you'll go right to your rooms and pack,' he advised her sternly. 'I'm giving you the sort of ad-

vice your father would have given you,' he added grimly. 'Note my words, Mark Chanter mightn't want marriage, but he's no objection to the perks that go with it.'

`Tony! ' gasped a red-cheeked Jenny. 'It wasn't like that at all—and well you know it! '

'I know it,' answered Tony, 'but he didn't. And that's precisely how he sees things.'

Jenny's flush died down and she gave him a curious look. 'Why do you hate him so much, Tony?' she asked quietly.

He shrugged expressively. 'I loathe all playboys,' he said sourly. 'Have everything handed to them on a plate—education, the lot, and they get to expect things to drop into their laps from the skies. He's no different from the rest.' He gave her a sharp look. 'It's my belief he's come back for a second bite at the cherry, and you're no match for him. It must have been galling for him with his looks and money to get as far as putting a ring on your finger, only to find himself pipped at the post by his friend, and a man like that doesn't forget the past. His pride wouldn't allow it.'

His expression softened as it rested on Jenny, who was looking down at her hands. 'I'll tell you something else, too,' he added gently. 'If a vote was put to the staff right now on whether you ought to stay on, the answer would be a deafening no—they saw what happened. It took us a year to get that
shell-shocked
look out of your eyes—we haven't forgotten either '

Jenny's eyes glistened as she looked up at him

and replied, 'You've forgotten Malcolm, Tony. It all happened at the same time, remember?'

Tony shook his head adamantly. 'That wasn't the way we saw it,' he muttered. 'And we'd all feel a lot easier if you walked out of the job.'

With a sigh that told Tony that he was on a losing streak, Jenny gave a wry smile. 'I know you won't believe this,' she began firmly, 'but I'm in no danger whatsoever of "going soft", as you put it, over Mark Chanter again. Furthermore,' she added with a glint in her eye, 'I simply don't see why I should give him the opportunity of getting rid of the staff he didn't want to employ.' She flung him a challenging look. 'In spite of what you think, Tony, he wants me out—so I'm afraid your notion of amorous intent doesn't hold water. He wanted me to throw the job in his face and walk out—but I didn't oblige him—not when I realised the purpose behind the offer.'

Her small hands clenched as she added staunchly, `So I stay, and so do the others. I'm not,' she got in quickly as Tony started to interrupt her, 'being a martyr. I know you and Dodie have something to fall back on if the worst comes to the worst, but Thomas and Flo James haven't—neither has Boots. I intend to stay put until we've found them alternative work elsewhere—and when that's done, then I'll walk out gladly, so you can tell them that. I don't suppose any of them will be too keen on staying anyway—not if they feel the same way as you do about things, but I'm not leaving until they have another job to go to.' Her chin lifted defiantly,

'We go in our own good time, Tony—not in his.'

With this stout declaration, Tony had to accept defeat, but was not at all happy with the situation. He left her shortly afterwards muttering something about getting on to friends of his in the trade who might know of a few vacancies suitable for their requirements. As for himself, he reminded Jenny of her earlier suggestion of opening a restaurant somewhere, and said the idea had been a good one and he would make a few enquiries in that direction.

There was a hint of tears in her eyes as she gazed at the closed door after he had left her. He was making sure he kept an eye on her, she thought. She would be given no time to mope, Tony would see to that, and although she was grateful, she did wish he would realise that she was old enough to look out for herself now. On this thought she sighed. Old habits die hard. If it wasn't Tony fussing over her, it would be Dodie, so she might as well accept their protectiveness for what it was, a sincere wish for her happiness—just that, and nothing more.

The following morning Jenny was surprised to find her desk in position in the corner of the large office, complete with typewriter—just as it had been in Malcolm's time, particularly as she had omitted to ask Rose for its return the day before, and her cheeks tinged pink when she realised that Mark had made certain that she fulfilled her duties forthwith by personally attending to the matter. A deeper pink suffused her cheeks when she thought of Rose's reaction to the news that Jenny had become his secretary.

With a slight exclamation of annoyance, Jenny took her place behind her desk. He couldn't even leave her to see to her end of things, could he? Oh, no, not he! It would be his way of showing her who was in charge now—and not only her—the rest of the staff too ! Her small even teeth caught her lower lip as she remembered what Tony had said about Mark Chanter intending to be around for quite some time. As long, she thought bitterly, as it took for him to gain his objective and remove her and the rest of the unwanted staff from Peacock's Walk.

A quick perusal of the desk drawers confirmed that all her personal belongings had been removed from the large desk to her small one, and gazing over to the large desk that had once been hers, she saw that a framed photograph had been placed on the desk, together with the usual items of office equipment.

Pushing aside the natural instinct to go over to the desk and look at whoever had been so honoured as to rate such a position in her new employer's life, she settled down to await his arrival, willing herself to remain calm and businesslike, no matter how much provocation she received, for she had no doubt in her mind that he intended to be as objectionable as possible, and she would never forgive herself if she allowed him to reach his objective.

On hearing the deep chimes of the lounge clock that announced that it was nine o'clock, she shifted restlessly in her chair. It was time that he put in an appearance, she thought. It was not as if he had far

to come, for he had taken the vacant room that Jenny had misguidedly thought that Silas Hawter had reserved for himself. This she had learnt from Dodie the previous evening—that, and a few other things, that added up to the same sort of lecture given her by Tony, and she had had to repeat what she had told Tony—that she would go in her own good time—and not before.

A quick glance at her watch told her that it was now ten minutes past the hour, and still no sign of Mark Chanter. Her lips firmed on the thought that perhaps this was an intended lapse on his part to keep her waiting. It was also probable that he was taking a last look around the hotel, because this was the day that the American guests were due. Even so, she thought bleakly, he had already satisfied himself on this point the day before, and there was no need for another inspection.

With her elbows on her desk and her face cupped in her hands, Jenny had to concede that she did not know very much about Mark Chanter—business-wise, that was, but in all fairness she knew he did not warrant the 'playboy' charge that Tony had levelled against him. Although Malcolm's friendship with Mark had turned to emnity because of Mark's interest in her, Malcolm had always respected Mark's business acumen, and had sought his advice on many occasions in the past. Not every business handed down from father to son flourished so successfully as Chanter Enterprises had—not without a certain amount of hard work, for what

was once a moderately successful hotel had become one of many.

At nine-fifteen, Jenny rang through to reception, and trying to keep the annoyance she felt at having to seek information on her new boss's movements, asked Rose if she had seen anything of Mr Chanter.

Rose gave a chatty, 'Oh, he's out, Miss Grange. I only know because I met him on his way out when I arrived.' There was a short pause before she added helpfully, 'Perhaps something came up. He didn't leave any message that I know of.'

Jenny thanked her and replaced the receiver carefully, only just managing not to slam it down. It was not Rose's fault that Mark Chanter had not seen fit to advise them of his movements.

Her baleful look left the receiver and swept over the desk, for she had to use the phone on Mark's desk as it was the only one in the room. Her glare rested on the back of the photograph in front of her, and without a second thought she turned it towards her, fully expecting to see the face of some anonymous beauty that had caught his eye. Her eyes widened in surprise as she stared at her own image.

Her surprise soon gave way to incredulity, then puzzlement, for she well remembered when the photograph had been taken, and the occasion. It had been taken by Malcolm, who had caught her laughing at some quip made by her father during an inspection of part of the hotel grounds that Malcolm had in mind to use for the building of a few chalets, to cope with the overflow of guests during the peak season.

Jenny's frown deepened as she replaced the photograph with hands that trembled slightly. The snap had been such a good one that Malcolm had had an enlargement made, and as far as Jenny knew, it had remained his property. She simply could not see Malcolm giving it to Mark, even though the snap had been taken a year before she met Mark.

As she did not know the answer, or the reason why he should have the photograph in such a prominent position, she pushed the disturbing question out of her mind for the time being, and dwelt on the memories the photograph had evoked.

There had been no clouds on her horizon then, and no Prince Charming, as she had once regarded Mark Chanter. Her existence had been one of calm acceptance and happiness—for she had been happy, she thought wistfully. Malcolm had never seemed an employer to either her father or her, for he had grown up with Jenny, and in many ways had been closer to Mr Grange than to his own father, who, inclined to rheumatics, had been a follower of the sun, and had hated the damp English climate.

Her gaze went back to the laughing girl in the photograph, who now seemed a stranger to her. It was hard to imagine that she had once been as gay and as carefree as that picture depicted. She sighed on the thought that less than two years after the photograph had been taken she had lost not only her father, but Malcolm too.

After the loss of two such dear people in her life, Jenny thought she had the answer as to why Mark Chanter had failed to capture her heart. She had