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Authors: Hilda Pressley

Tags: #Harlequin Romance 1970

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Julia felt a sharp stab of something like pain. But she rejected Max

s suggestion swiftly.

‘Really, Max, you are being silly tonight. If I

ve defended him it

s been out of no other motive than ordinary loyalty.
And
fairness.

‘All right,

he said in a resigned voice.

He leaned towards her with the obvious intention of kissing her, but Julia shrank from the idea and pushed him away.

‘No, please, Max. I—just don

t feel like it. I

m sorry. Thanks very much for the dinner. It was a lovely meal, but I

ll say goodnight now if you don

t mind.

He removed his arm without a word and reached out for the ignition. It was easy to see she had annoyed him, which wasn

t really surprising. But Julia felt it would be useless to offer further apology. She opened the car door and stepped out.

‘Goodnight, Max—

His reply was scarcely audible. Before she had time to insert her key in the lock of the houseboat he had started up the engine and reversed out of the boatyard.

Julia sighed deeply. How complicated life was! Or seemed. Strictly speaking she
ought
to be more
happy and more contented than she was. The overwhelming grief she had known with David

s death had passed. It had had to. One simply does not go on grieving deeply for ever, even for one

s very nearest and dearest. One has to learn to live, even though one never forgets. She would always have a special place in her heart for David. No, it was not because of David

s death that she felt restless and at odds with life, that things worried or irritated her which usually would not.

She made a drink and slipped into a housecoat and lay on top of her bed thinking, trying to sort herself out. Perhaps this disturbance of her normally balanced behaviour and outlook on life stemmed from her disappointment with regard to the buying of Wingcraft. She had wanted it so much, she had had so many plans. Her mind went back. Why had she wanted it so badly? Pride of ownership, a desire to be her own boss? But more than these things at the time, she had wanted it for David

s sake, partly because she thought
he
would want her to have it and partly because she could not bear the thought of anyone taking David

s place. It would sound silly and sentimental to some people, she supposed. And in retrospect, it didn

t make a great deal of sense to herself. She didn

t mind seeing Roger about the place. She felt sure David wouldn

t have, either.

She allowed her mind to dwell on Roger and it dawned upon her that she liked him a very great deal. Yet why was she so constantly stirred up? He was treating her as a colleague, she made as many decisions and worked with the same freedom as she had when
Mr.
Hargreaves had been alive, and Roger was even putting some of her own plans into
operation
. She should be happy. All the ingredients were there. All, that was, except—She baulked at the idea that she was not fully happy just because she wanted love and marriage. Only a bare half hour ago, she had repulsed Max. She had liked him well enough until he had begun to criticize Roger so much.

The more she thought of Roger the more she realized what a man after her own heart he was. He was different from David, a more complex character. But he was the kind of man with whom she would go anywhere, venture anything. She would never want to leave him.

Suddenly Julia knew without any shadow of doubt that she was in love with Roger.

 

CHAPTER
SIX

Julia quickly discovered that loving Roger was totally different from the way she had been in love with David. Between David and herself it had been mutual. There had been no pretence, no shyness or misunderstandings, no complications, no other girl. No Celia. She did not even love Roger in the same way. This was a quieter love. At least, for the time being. And more deep. She was like a person who has been given a rare and precious gift. It was not something to shout about, to make public. It was something to cherish. It gave her an undefinable sense of peace, a quietness of spirit. That Roger did not love her seemed not to matter at this stage. She simply accepted the existence of Celia without dwelling too much on the future.

Roger glanced up from his desk one morning when she took in some letters for him to sign and gave her a long, enquiring look.

‘Is anything—wrong, Julia? At least, not wrong, exactly, but—

She placed the letters before him. ‘Nothing is wrong—why?

‘I don

t know. But you seem different.

She smiled faintly. She
was
different. ‘Perhaps it

s the rise in the temperature,

she told him. Then, on a sudden impulse and because she wanted to please him, she said: ‘By the way, I was wondering if you

d like me to write to Celia—to Miss Palmer—and offer her accommodation in the houseboat My houseboat, I mean, of course. After all, if I wasn

t using it, we—you—could be letting it. And it ought really to be earning money. It

s intended for four anyway. Celia could have my cabin and I could sleep on the studio couch. That way I wouldn

t disturb her in the mornings.

As she spoke she knew in her bones she was making a great mistake,
but it was out now and could not be unsaid.

He did not answer for a moment. He kept his gaze fixed upon her as if trying to read some ulterior motive into what she had said. Then he drew an audible breath as though giving up. He searched among the papers on his desk.

‘As a matter of fact I had a letter from her this morning. She still wants to come, so you

d better write to her yourself and offer her the accommodation.

He found the letter for which he was looking and passed it across the desk. ‘Here

s her address—I

ll leave it to you to turn a blind eye to much of the letter

s contents.

He signed the letters, she had already typed and passed those back to her.


I see our advertisements for foreman, marine engineer and boy are in this morning

s paper,

he said.

I have to go into town later on. If by any chance anyone answers the ads. in person, you can interview them, can

t you? And use your own discretion about taking them on. You

ll be as good as I am—maybe better.

She smiled. How could she ever have thought him difficult
?’
I

ll leave the particulars on your desk, anyway, if I do take anyone on.

He gave her another curious look, and realizing all at once that she was in danger of giving herself away, she turned and went back to her own office. She really must watch herself. If he knew how she felt about him he would almost certainly be embarrassed and they would be quite unable to work together. He simply must not know.

She sat down at her desk and looked at the letter he had given her written by Celia. She saw the opening—
Darling Roger
—and could not help
c
atching glimpses of the affectionate terms in which the letter was couched. She c
om
pressed her lips against the shafts of pain which went through her heart. What a complete idiot she was to have offered, for the second time, to give hospitality
to Celia. She must have been out of her mind. But wasn

t that thinking only of herself? If it would give him some pleasure to have Celia here—

Was
he in love with her, Julia wondered, as she put a sheet of paper in her typewriter, or was she merely jumping to conclusions? Then she remembered the doodle and the photograph, and the answer was pretty conclusive. And why was he going to so much trouble regarding the house unless he had marriage in mind? He would tell her in his own time, she supposed. Celia had already seen over the house. If she were not reasonably sure that Roger loved Celia, Julia

s thoughts went on, she might set about trying to attract him to herself. There were ways in which a woman could convey her feelings to a man and still keep her pride. But even as these thoughts came Julia rejected them. No matter what a woman did in her efforts to win a man there was still no guarantee that the man would fall in love with her. Love was something which could not be forced, and if a man loved a woman he usually found a way of letting her know it.

Julia tried to put an end to her thoughts about Roger. They were all too painful. Love brought happiness only when it was not demanding. She was not the first woman to love a man who did not love her. She would simply have to come to terms with it. If she could not without leaving, then she would have to leave and there was an end of it.

She typed a letter to Celia offering her accommodation in her houseboat for a holiday, being careful to exclude the dates on which her parents would be coming. When Roger came through to go out, she showed the letter to him.

He read it, then handed it back to her.

This is most generous of you—but I must warn you, she

s not likely to be very helpful domestically. You

ll probably find yourself doing all the cooking and washing up and generally clearing up after her.

‘That—will be all right
,’
Julia answered, the fact that he knew Celia so well registering forcibly.

He went out saying he wouldn

t be back until after lunch. He had been gone about half an hour when a young man knocked on the office door and said he had come in answer to the advertisement for a marine engineer.

‘Sit down, won

t you?

Julia invited, ‘and I

ll take your particulars.
Mr.
Leighton is out at the moment, but—

‘I won

t have to come again, will I? It

s difficult to get time off except in my dinner hour.

‘No, I don

t think you

ll have to come back necessarily. We

ll see. First, let me have your name, age and so on.

His name was Tony Sheldrake, he had been out of his time for three years and had brought testimonials from three boatyards. They were good without being too glowing—which she would have been inclined to distrust, anyway. But then she noticed something else.


These aren

t very up-to-date, are they?

she asked. ‘Where have you been working for the past twelve months? And where are you working now?


I

ve been at sea,

he said quickly. ‘You know how it is. I wanted adventure and thought I

d sign up as a ship

s engineer. But I didn

t much care for it. I decided I

d rather have a shore job. The only thing is I threw my Board of Trade papers away. In any case, I

d have thought three references were enough.


Yes, I suppose they are.

All three stated that they had found him ‘honest and trustworthy ‘and testified to the work he had been doing on engines of all kinds.

‘When would you be able to start
?’
she asked.

‘Saturday, in time for change-over day, if you want me,

he answered promptly. ‘I

m doing a one-off job at the moment. A big privately owned cruiser. The man wants it for Friday afternoon. That

s why I can
only manage a dinner-hour for an interview
.’


I understand. Perhaps you

d like to see around the boatyard. I

ll introduce you to our present foreman.

She found Frank Willis and asked him privately to test the man

s knowledge of marine engines as he showed him round. If he was satisfactory, she could see no good reason for keeping him hanging on for an answer on the off-chance of interviewing more applicants. Roger was anxious to get started on the job of expansion as soon as possible.

After about ten minutes had elapsed, Frank Willis came in search of her.


He seems to know his stuff all right. In fact, if the guv

nor were to ask my advice I

d say he

s more knowledgeable about marine engines than George. Still, you need a good man on maintenance, I suppose.


But you think he might be better working on the new auxiliaries
?’


Could be, but then George and I have worked together for a good long while and he

s useful in other ways, too. Doesn

t mind what he turns his hand to.

Julia remembered something. ‘
Mr.
Leighton has said that he doesn

t like breaking up a good team, but I

m glad to have your opinion anyway, Frank. I think we

ll take him on.

She turned to move away, then halted.

You—like him all right otherwise?

Frank Willis hesitated. ‘He seems pleasant enough. There

s only one thing puzzles me.

‘And what

s that?

This business of his being at sea for the past year. It seems odd to me, a man going from one kind of engineering to another like that. They

re not the same.

But Julia could see nothing amiss in that. ‘Some people do have a period when they chop and change before settling down. I think he

ll do.

Before the week was out a yard foreman had also been engaged, interviewed by Roger himself. A small, roundfaced, cheerful man in his fifties who loved boats and
everything connected with them. Roger introduced him to Julia.

‘This is Bob Winters, Julia. Until now he

s been general foreman at Cootcraft which, as you know, is changing hands. So
Mr.
Winters thought he

d make a change, too. Miss Barclay,

he went on,

is my assistant. Anything you want to know, any queries of any kind can be referred to her just as well as to me.

Julia silently blessed him. Her fears had been groundless. She was to remain as a sort of manager over all. And they certainly needed a yard foreman, especially on Saturdays, which could be chaotic. When David and
Mr.
Hargreaves had been alive, one person could barely move from the office for the coming and going of holiday-makers. Saturday still remained the popular day for the start and finish of a holiday. Yachts and cruisers were brought in at ten o

clock and hired again by four at the latest. Between that time the boats had to be cleaned out from
stern
to stem, all the equipment checked, dirty linen replaced with fresh, the engines overhauled and filled up with fuel, the water tanks refilled, a fresh supply of liquid gas installed and the sailing tackle of the yachts and auxiliaries checked. All this while holiday-makers were coming and going, often getting in the way, those having reached the end of their holiday still not packed, the others anxious to get away before their boat was quite ready. Every available pair of regular hands with the addition of those of several cleaning women were needed on Saturdays.

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