Wild Melody (2 page)

Almost unconsciously Catriona's nose wrinkled. It was not the rendezvous

she would have chosen for an ecstatic reunion with Jeremy. She bit her lip

uncertainly. She wished now she had written to him in advance telling him

that she was coming. She acknowledged now, standing in the dirty street,

that she had been secretly afraid that he might try to deter her. For a moment

she found it hard to remember even what Jeremy looked like, and again that

odd sense of panic gripped her. She turned to the driver hesitantly.

'Perhaps—you would wait.'

She mounted the short flight of cracked steps and rang the bell.

'Probably not working, love,' the driver called. 'Bang on the door instead.'

Catriona complied with his advice, and after an endless moment or two the

door was flung open. She was confronted by a thin woman in a soiled blue

nylon overall, her hair in rollers under a yellow chiffon scarf.

'No vacancies,' she snapped, and made to close the door again.

Catriona stepped forward with a determination that she was far from feeling.

'I'm looking for one of your tenants, a Mr Jeremy Lord.'

'Are you now?' The woman's eyes appraised Catriona suggestively,

lingering for a moment at her waistline. 'Well, you're too late, dear. He's

gone.'

'Gone? Where?' Catriona felt the world spin round her. This was one

development she had failed to take into account in her planning. Jeremy had

told her she would find him here and she had believed him. She fought to

remain calm.

'He left about three months ago. A nice Indian gentleman's got the room

now.' The woman waited for a minute. 'Well, if that's all, dear, I must get

on.'

Catriona moved impulsively. 'Did he—was there any forwarding address?'

'Now let me think. Some do, and some don't, of course. And there's a few

who don't want to be traced.' She gave Catriona a malicious smile. 'But I'm

sure that won't be true in your case, ducks. You wait here, while I see.' She

disappeared to the rear of the musty hall and went through a door.

Catriona, fighting her tears, stood forlornly on the step. What if there was no

address? She supposed there would be a hostel somewhere she could go to

for the time being. Perhaps the driver would know. He seemed kind. Yet at

the back of her mind were all the warnings she had ever heard about trusting

strangers in big cities. She had never felt more alone, even at Aunt Jessie's

funeral, for there the unspoken sympathy of the rest of the village had been

like a rock for her to lean on. Here there was no one and nothing if Jeremy

could not be found.

'Here we are, lovey.' The woman was coming back, flourishing a piece of

paper. 'Mr Lord—11 Belmont Gardens. I thought I could recollect him

saying where he was moving to.'

'Oh, thank you.' Catriona took the papfer, realising that the woman's hand

was remaining outstretched. For a moment she wondered if she was

expected to shake hands, then she realised. Flushing, she dug into her

shoulder bag and produced a pound note. Before she could say anything, it

was gone from her hand and tucked away into a pocket of the nylon overall.

'That's very good of you, dear, very good.' The woman beamed at her. 'Now,

if you were wanting a room, my first floor front is giving notice this week.'

'No,' Catriona said quietly. 'No, thanks. I must be going now.' And she ran

back down the steps to the waiting taxi. She gave the new address to the

driver.

'It's from the sublime to the gorblimey with you, girl,' he commented, as the

cab drew away. 'Dead posh, Belmont Gardens.'

Catriona didn't find this piece of information particularly encouraging

either. She realised for the first time how little she really knew about Jeremy

and his background. She knew that he was an only child, and that both his

parents were living, but little more.

It had never occurred to her during those happy sun- soaked days in

Scotland to probe too deeply. Nor had she speculated too much while they

were apart. She had preferred to remember the warmth of his kisses, and

the glow in his eyes when he looked at her in that secret way that seemed to

shut them off from the rest of the world even when others were there.

These things were somehow more real than Jeremy's family, Jerejny's

friends and the rest of his life in London in which as yet she had no part.

She realised of course that she would have to accept her part in them, but

Jeremy had fitted so easily into her background that she had few doubts

that she would slot as quickly into his. Now she was not so sure.

Looking out of the cab window, she realised the area they were in now was a

marked improvement on the one where Jeremy used to live. Here, the rows

of houses were tall and • spacious and trees edged the streets in neat lines.

The taxi turned right, swerving into a small square. In the centre of the

square was a tiny railed-off park, with lawns, seats and flower beds. The

houses that surrounded it were tall and elegant with delicately wrought

iron railings in front of them. Many of them had window boxes filled with

gay flowers, and Catriona could not help a little cry of pleasure and

surprise.

'Told you so,' the driver commented smugly. He drew up with a flourish.

'Here we are, ducks—number eleven. Shall I bring your gear up?'

'I—I can manage, thank you.' Catriona was feeling nervous again. As the

taxi drew away and vanished round the corner, she felt almost as if she just

lost a friend. Her palms felt moist and she wiped them down the sides of

her jeans, before shouldering her rucksack and picking up the guitar case.

'Here we go,' she thought, gazing up at the white facade of the house. A

scarlet front door confronted her and as she counted the six immaculate

steps which led to it, she noticed a gleaming brass bell surmounted by a

name-plate in the wall.

The stark black lettering on the card seemed to leap out at her. 'J. Lord,' she

read with relief, and pressed the bell.

Almost immediately she heard steps inside the house, and her stomach

muscles contracted. She licked her dry lips, controlling her instinct to run

away as quickly as she could, now that the moment of truth was here. . But it

was a small woman, neatly dressed in a dark frock and apron, who opened

the door this time, and looked at her inquiringly.

Catriona tried to speak with an assurance she was far from feeling.

'Mr Lord, please.'

'Well, I don't know, I'm sure, miss.' The woman looked at her searchingly,

taking in the shabby coat and the rucksack. 'Is he expecting you?'

'Yes,' said Catriona, mentally crossing her fingers. It wasn't really a fib, she

told herself. Jeremy had said she could come at any time. 'Please tell him

Miss Muir is here.'

The woman held the door open and stood back to allow Catriona to enter.

'Come in, Miss Muir. I'll tell Mr Lord. Perhaps you'd like to leave your

luggage in the hall.'

Catriona felt almost embarrassed to do so. It was a spacious hall with a black

and white tiled floor and gleaming white walls. A carved chest stood against

one wall supporting a,tall Chinese vase. She put her rucksack and guitar in a

corner, where she hoped they would not be noticed, and followed the

woman to a door on the right.

'Will you wait here, miss?' the woman asked, and Catriona nodded

speechlessly. She had never seen such a room. The walls were covered in a

heavy cream paper and this colour was repeated in the thick fitted carpet.

The floor- length curtains and luxurious suite were in a matching fabric

which combined shades of sapphire and jade, and Catriona, who had always

been told by Aunt Jessie, 'Blue and green should never be seen,' gasped at

the effect this produced. The few other pieces of furniture—some

occasional tables and a rosewood cabinet—were obviously antique and a

cream marble mantelpiece bore a collection of exquisite Chinese porcelain

dogs.

Catriona began to feel bewildered. What had Jeremy to do with all this

luxury? She had never thought that he might be rich, but what other

explanation was there for a life-style which was beyond anything she could

have imagined? The shabby chintzes of Muir House had never seemed so

far away.

Desperately she stared around. Oh, why had she come? What a fool she had

been! There was no place for her here. The contrast hetween her own

near-pennilessness and her present surroundings was a humiliation. And

worst of all, one of her shoes had left a dirty mark on the carpet.

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she hurried towards the door, but almost

simultaneously it was flung open, and Catriona halted with a gasp.

Regarding her was a tall man. He was wearing a dark silk dressing gown,

and a towel was flung carelessly over one shoulder. His feet and legs were

bare and one lock of damp- looking black hair hung down across his

forehead. He put up a hand and brushed it impatiently away from the coldest

grey eyes that Catriona had ever seen.

'Who are you?' she asked shakily. It was too much! The long journey, the

lack of sleep, the first disappointment, and now this utter stranger looking

her over as if she were an unprepossessing remnant on a bargain counter.

'That's rich, coming from you,' he commented, in a voice that matched his

eyes. 'According to you, Miss—er—Muir, I'm expecting you.'

Catriona fought back the tears that were threatening to overwhelm her

completely.

'Not you—Jeremy,' she said dolefully.

'Jeremy?' He gave her a long look, then closed the door behind him. 'I

suppose I should have known. And what brings you here?'

Catriona stared at him helplessly. 'Doesn't—doesn't he live here?'

'No, by God, he doesn't,' was the forcible reply. 'What gave you that idea?

Did he? I'll break his damned neck if. . .'

'No—oh, no. It was his landlady—his ex-landlady, that is. She said he'd left

this as a forwarding address. And when I saw his name on the card at the

door, I assumed . . .' Her voice tailed away uncomfortably as he looked her

over with a certain grimness.

'Not his name, young woman. Mine. And this is my flat, and down the hall

is my bedroom where I now propose to return now that this little

misunderstanding has been cleared up. I did agree that Jeremy could have

his mail sent on here for a short time, but that was over long ago.' He opened

the door and held it, waiting for her to pass through. 'So if you'd be good

enough to collect that weird clutter in the corner of the hall, we can go our

separate ways.'

In spite of her distress, Catriona's temper began to rise. She had never been

treated so summarily in her life before. Aunt Jessie wouldn't have behaved

to a stray dog like this man was treating her, she thought furiously. Her first

reaction was to do as he requested and stalk out of his house and his life

without a backward glance. And yet he could obviously help her to find

Jeremy, which at the moment seemed more important than salvaging her

pride.

'I'm sorry to have intruded,' she began awkwardly. 'If you would just give

me Jeremy's present address, I'll be happy to leave you in peace.'

'Out of the question,' he said abruptly. 'Good morning.' 'What do you mean?'

Catriona faced him, openly indignant. 'Are you saying you won't tell me

where he is?'

'Very perceptive,' he said smoothly, and Catriona longed to slap him hard

across that dark sneering face. 'Now, on your way, my little orphan of the

storm.'

'I'm not--' Catriona began to deny hotly, when it struck her with the

suddenness of a blow that he was quite right. She was an orphan now. She

looked at him mutely, unable to restrain her tears any longer.

'Oh, for God's sake,' he said bitingly. 'Do you think I haven't had that trick

tried on me a hundred times? Only it's never worked in the past, and it's sure

as hell not working now, darling.'

'I'm not your darling!' Catriona rubbed her eyes vigorously with a scrap of

handkerchief she had found in her coat pocket. 'I think you're despicable!'

'No doubt you do. But just remember, you got yourself in here under false

pretences, so don't start complaining when the going gets tough.' He

gestured her towards the door.

'It wasn't false pretences,' Catriona protested. 'I asked for Mr Lord. I thought

it would be Jeremy.'

'And instead it was me.' He pushed his hair back from his forehead again,

almost wearily. 'A nasty shock for you, no doubt, and my advice to you is to

go back where you came from as quickly as possible and get over it.'

'I can't go back,' Catriona said quietly. 'What's more, I came here to find

Jeremy and I won't leave until I've seen him. And he'll not be very pleased

when I tell him how you've treated me,' she added, a little vindictively.