Читать книгу At The Millionaire's Bidding - Lee Wilkinson - Страница 8

OVER the next few months, with both of them working all hours, they hardly saw each other. Once a week they snatched a late-evening coffee together, and on very odd occasions a takeaway pizza.

Instead of living in student accommodation, Dave shared a small self-contained flat with a college friend. Though Eleanor paid his share of the rent for it, she had never been there, and wasn’t even sure where it was.

‘Off Station Road,’ Dave had answered casually, when she’d asked.

More than a dozen streets ran off Station Road, but knowing by now that he hated to be what he called “crowded” she let the matter drop.

As the festive season approached, learning that she had Christmas Day off, they began to make plans to spend it together. At the last minute, however, Dave rang up, sounding hoarse and snuffly, to say he had developed a stinking cold and all he wanted to do was stay in bed.

He rejected her offer of nursing and, when she looked like persisting, pointed out irritably, ‘At the moment you’re the breadwinner, so what’s the point of you catching it and having to stay off work?’

Though bitterly disappointed, she couldn’t deny it made sense, and when one of the kitchen staff failed to turn up, she worked in their place.

Unfortunately, Dave’s cold lasted over New Year, and it was well into January before they arranged to meet again.

That night she left the light and warmth of the supermarket to find a biting wind was driving flurries of snow down the dark street.

They had been planning to have a spot of supper together and, thinking he still looked far from well, she suggested that if they got fish and chips they could take them back to his flat. ‘It’s much too cold to stand eating them in the shop doorway.’

Dave looked horrified. ‘Do you want to get me slung out? My dragon of a landlady has very strict rules. No smoking. No loud music. No wet washing hanging about. No showers after eight. And definitely no visitors. In any case, Tony will be home.

‘Tell you what, if you give me a bit extra spending money, just for once we’ll eat in the cafe.’

‘Of course.’ She fished in her bag and gave him her last ten-pound note.

Completely besotted, she would have given him anything he’d asked for. Herself included. But though he kissed her from time to time, he never tried to take things any further.

When she rather hesitantly made it clear that she would sleep with him if he wanted her to, he said, ‘Don’t think I’m not tempted, kiddo. But for one thing I’m working so hard I’ve no energy left, and for another, I can’t afford to be distracted. There’ll be enough time to have fun when our business is up and running.’

She could only admire his dedication.

In the end it paid off handsomely. He graduated with top marks and, to celebrate, they went out looking for an office to rent.

‘One with a reasonable address, if possible,’ Dave decreed. ‘Where you are can make a big difference.’

Finding something that fitted the bill was easier said than done. The rents were astronomical. Then, when they’d almost given up hope, in a rather rundown building just off the Edgware Road, they found what they wanted.

Or at least the best they could afford.

That first hurdle over, it meant changes all round. Dave would no doubt want to move, and when she had worked her notice at the hotel, she would need to find somewhere else to live.

Full of barely suppressed excitement, she waited for Dave to suggest they find a small flat and move in together. When he said nothing, she plucked up courage and broached the subject herself.

He shook his head. ‘I was planning to stay where I am. Apart from the fact that Tony needs my help with the rent, it’s cheap and reasonably comfortable, and handy for the tube.’

‘But I thought we could be together…’

‘Too much of a temptation, kiddo.’

‘Oh, but surely—’

‘Look, we have to be sensible about this. We need time to build up the business before we can afford to take any chances. If you got pregnant where would we be? Right up the creek without a paddle. Say we give ourselves a year…’

A year…

‘For that length of time we’ll need to work all hours, seven days a week. Then if everything’s going well we’ll start to relax a bit, get married, tie the knot in the good old-fashioned way. Tell you what, as soon as we’ve been paid for our first job, I’ll buy you an engagement ring.’

She couldn’t help but think it sounded like a sop.

Seeing she still looked far from happy, he added, ‘Oh, and as it’s your money that’s getting us started, I think you should rate as senior partner, and your name come first on our business cards.

‘After all,’ he added magnanimously, as she began to shake her head, ‘You’ve more than pulled your weight.’

She really didn’t care whose name came first. Just his praise would have been enough.

After a fortnight of fruitless searching, her luck changed and she found a one-roomed flat complete with a kitchenette and a tiny bathroom at a rent she could just about afford. It was within walking distance of the office, which meant she would save on tube fares.

Having bought a small second-hand van, Dave had promised to help her move in her few possessions, but when the time came he was busy, so she managed on the tube with a couple of battered suitcases.

Her new flat was cramped and shabby and three flights up, but the bed-settee was reasonably comfortable, and compared to the room she had lived in for the past four years, it was the height of luxury.

She felt like a queen.

As soon as she was settled, she set about furnishing and repainting the office. That done, inside a week they were in business. Their printed cards read:

Smith and Benson

Computer and Communication Systems Installed

Within a few days they had established contact with the necessary suppliers, and secured their first job.

It was heady stuff.

Her only disappointment was that she still saw very little of Dave. When they weren’t actually working, he was always out and about trying to drum up business.

Once or twice he took her to the cinema, or to eat in some cheap restaurant. He never came to her flat.

‘Avoiding temptation…’ he told her, when she suggested he came round occasionally. ‘If you’re lonely, buy a second-hand telly.’

Used to being on her own, she wasn’t exactly lonely, she just missed him, and a television was the last thing she wanted. Books and music had always been her pleasure and her solace.

Some three months later, after they had been paid for their first job, true to his word, Dave bought her an engagement ring.

Slipping it onto her finger he asked, ‘There what do you think of that?’

A twist, with a couple of small zircons, it was clearly inexpensive, and at least one size too large, but she was thrilled with it.

‘As soon as the money starts rolling in, we’ll change it for diamonds,’ he promised.

She didn’t need diamonds. The ring he had put on her finger meant everything to her. Commitment. A future together. Love.

Perhaps afraid of the answer, she had never asked the question before, but now as he kissed her, she said, ‘Dave, do you love me?’

‘Course I do.’

‘It’s just that you’ve never told me.’

‘I’m not very good with words, but you must know I love you. We’re a pair. A partnership. I don’t know what I’d do without you…’

For the next few weeks that assurance had kept her floating on cloud nine.

As they neared the end of December, finding they had finished their current job and had nothing else on their books until early January, Eleanor started to plan for their best Christmas and New Year ever. Dave’s birthday was on the thirty-first of December, so it would be a double celebration.

When, wanting his input, she mentioned her plans, he said, ‘I’m sorry but I won’t be here. I’ve more than earned a break, so I’m joining Tony and the boys on a cheap trip to Belgium. We go on the twenty-fourth and come back January the second.’

‘Oh, but I thought we’d be spending Christmas and New Year together—’

‘I can’t afford to miss this chance. It’ll be the first holiday I’ve had for years. Pity it’s a men only, boozy thing, but that’s the way it goes. I’ll bring you back a present to make up for it.

‘I don’t suppose there’ll be much doing as regards business. Between Christmas and New Year is a bit of a dead period, so why don’t you have a break?

‘All you really need to do is pop into the office each day to check for mail and emails…’

So once again she had found herself facing the prospect of a solitary Christmas and New Year. But refusing to give way to gloom, she had decorated her tiny flat with holly and mistletoe, made mince pies, and stocked up with library books and CDs.

Christmas Eve she had gone to hear a carol concert, and Christmas morning she had walked in the frosty park and fed the ducks.

New Year’s Eve loomed, empty and lonely. She bought a cheap bottle of wine to see the new year in and, unused to drinking, got a little tipsy. Only then, thinking how lovely it would have been if Dave had been there, had she shed a tear.

He had returned on January the second, as promised, bringing her back a few tacky souvenirs. ‘Just to prove I’ve been thinking about you.’

Somehow the assurance had rung hollow…

Becoming suddenly aware that Robert Carrington was waiting for an answer to a question she hadn’t even heard, Eleanor pulled herself back from the past and stammered, ‘I-I’m sorry?’

‘I asked if you had any regrets about going into business?’

‘No. None at all.’

Though if they didn’t get this job, it looked as if they wouldn’t be in business much longer.

Apparently reading her thoughts, he asked, ‘What are your future prospects?’

Knowing instinctively that it was make or break, she said carefully, ‘They should be good. Dave’s brilliant at what he does, and we’re both prepared to put our hearts and souls into it, but to succeed we’ll need to get the work.’

‘How secure are you financially?’

Her lips tightening, she said, ‘I don’t believe you have any right to ask that.’

His green-gold eyes pinned her. ‘Before I entrust any work to you I’ve a right to know what your chances are of going bust on me. A lot of small firms are disappearing down the drain at the moment.’

‘I hope we won’t be one of them.’ It was the best she could do, and she held her breath and waited.

Apparently it was good enough. He let that go and smoothly changed tack. ‘When are you due to begin your next job?’

She started to tell him it had been put on hold, as instructed, then, knowing full well he wouldn’t believe a word of it, she admitted bleakly, ‘At the moment we have no next job.’

‘I see,’ he said slowly. ‘So it rather depends on me?’ His voice held satisfaction, and as he spoke he smiled a little.

Eleanor knew then, without the slightest doubt, that he had no intention of giving them his work. Like a wolf picking up the scent of prey, he had picked up just how desperate she was, and had been stringing her along.

She jumped to her feet abruptly. ‘Well now you’ve had your fun perhaps you won’t mind if—’

‘Sit down,’ he ordered. Adding, ‘Please,’ almost as an afterthought.

There was so much quiet authority in his voice, that she found herself obeying.

‘Tell me, what makes you think I’ve just been amusing myself?’

She refused to back down. ‘Well, you have, haven’t you? It’s obvious.’

Tawny eyes gleaming, he asked, ‘Would it alter your opinion if I offered you the job?’

‘It wouldn’t alter my opinion, but it would make the last half-hour or so worth it.’

He laughed, and she noticed that his mouth and teeth were just perfect.

‘I’m glad to see you have spirit. I thought you might have had it all knocked out of you.’

Startled, she asked, ‘What made you think that?’

‘Instinct mainly. I have a feeling that life hasn’t been too kind.’

The last thing she wanted was Robert Carrington’s pity. ‘It’s been kinder to me than it has to a lot of people,’ she informed him briskly. ‘I’ve never been ill-treated or gone hungry. I’m healthy and able to work. I’ve a place of my own and someone who—’ Unable to say the words, she stopped speaking abruptly.

‘Someone who loves you?’ he hazarded. ‘In that case you’re one up on me.’

Reaching across the desk, he lifted her left hand and examined the ring. ‘Am I right in thinking it’s Benson you’re going to marry?’

‘Yes.’

‘How long have you been engaged?’

‘Eight months.’

He looked surprised. ‘And you’re not living together.’ It was a statement not a question.

Suddenly feeling like some kind of misfit in this modern world, she objected stiffly, ‘I’m not sure how you reached that conclusion.’

Ironically, he told her, ‘When you were listing your blessings, you said, “I’ve got a place of my own”…’

She bit her lip.

‘So why are you playing hard to get? Afraid Benson will change his mind about marrying you if you give him your all?’

Before she could think of any answer, he went on, ‘No wonder the poor devil’s so edgy if you’re keeping him waiting.’

‘I’m not keeping him waiting,’ she denied sharply. ‘And he’s not edgy…’ But, even as she spoke, she knew he was, and had been for some weeks.

Though it could hardly have been for the reason suggested. Perhaps Dave had seen more clearly than she had what was facing them financially…

‘If you’re not keeping him waiting, why aren’t you living together?’ Robert Carrington pursued relentlessly. ‘You know what they say about two being able to live as cheaply as one…’

‘I really don’t see that it’s any of your business. And you know what they say about curiosity killing the cat…’

‘Touché. But I’m afraid we’ve strayed from the point again.’

Infuriated by his calm effrontery, and the way he had led her by the nose, she said through clenched teeth, ‘You mean you’ve strayed from the point.’

‘Aha!’ he exclaimed softly, ‘now you’re really starting to hold your own and answer me back. Perhaps you’ve decided you don’t want the job after all?’

Hotly, she said, ‘If I have to jump through hoops to get it, the answer’s no, I don’t want it. You can keep your job.’

He clicked his tongue against his teeth reprovingly. ‘Now how do you think Benson will feel about that?’

Eleanor’s face grew still and stiff with despair. Why had she allowed this man to bait and torment her until she was rattled enough to throw away the job they needed so badly.

Dave would never forgive her. Never.

‘Feel about what?’

Startled, she looked up to find he was standing in the office doorway.

‘Did your appointment go well?’ Robert Carrington enquired sardonically.

Dave, who was no fool, merely said, ‘Very well, thanks. But you were asking how I’d feel about something?’

With a spurious air of confidence he strolled round the desk and, watched by the other man, took the chair Eleanor had vacated for him.

After giving Dave time to get seated, and her time to sweat a little—she felt sure—Robert Carrington said, ‘Yes…As you’re aware, with this job, one of the main stumbling blocks was the length of time it would take to travel between London and Little Meldon each day. Well, that problem has been partially solved…’

As she waited tensely, wondering what he was up to, his eyes caught and held hers. An unmistakable challenge in their tawny depths, he continued smoothly, ‘Miss Smith has agreed that she would be quite willing to live at my home, Greyladies Manor, while the work is in progress…’

His words brought a shock of surprise and, mentally reeling, she wondered why he had lied.

Common sense told her she should be grateful that he had let her off the hook, but the last thing she wanted was to have to live under his roof.

And somehow he must have guessed as much.

So had he presented it as a fait accompli merely to force her hand?

Cocking an eyebrow at her, he waited for her to say something. When she bit her lip and stayed silent, he turned to Dave and went on, ‘I was asking Eleanor how you would feel about living there?’

‘Then you’re giving us the job?’ Dave burst out eagerly.

‘That all depends. To enable the work to be completed as quickly as possible, I’d like you both to be on the spot.’

As Dave opened his mouth to argue, Robert added, ‘If you’re prepared to meet me on this, all well and good. If you’re not…’

He left the sentence hanging in the air, but the threat was plain.

Eleanor looked at Dave, unconsciously holding her breath.

Plainly torn, wanting to tell this arrogant so and so where to get off, but knowing they needed the job, he hesitated. It was perhaps twenty seconds before he agreed reluctantly, ‘I suppose if that’s what you want.’

‘It is.’

‘Okay.’

‘In that case, how soon can you start?’

Regaining some of his cockiness, Dave went into his spiel, ‘As it happens, you’re lucky. Our next job has been put on hold, so we can make a start as soon as you want us.’

Glancing up unwarily, Eleanor felt herself grow hot as she met Robert Carrington’s green-gold eyes once more and read the mockery in them.

‘Then suppose you come down to Greyladies tomorrow afternoon?’ he suggested briskly. ‘Unless you prefer to keep your Saturdays and Sundays free?’

‘We’re quite used to working weekends,’ Dave told him, ‘so that’s no problem.’

‘Good. Then you’ll have time to get settled in and size up the job before Monday…

‘One of the things we haven’t touched on so far is price. When you’ve seen where I want the new office, and I’ve explained what I have in mind, you can no doubt work out a rough estimate of how much it’s going to cost.’

‘I’ll be glad to. Oh, and as you’ve mentioned money, when we start placing orders for equipment we shall need some cash up front.’

Pulling out a cheque book and putting it on the desk, Carrington suggested, ‘Say ten thousand?’

‘Ten thousand will do fine.’

Dave’s voice was casual, but Eleanor knew it was a great deal more than he had expected.

The financier wrote the cheque and passed it to him, before asking, ‘You have some transport?’

‘Yes, we have our own van. All we need are a few directions so we can find the place.’

‘When you reach Dunton Otterly, take the road to Little Meldon. Greyladies is about half a mile south of there.

‘Simply follow the main street through the village, and carry on until you come to Grave Lane on the left. The entrance to the manor is about five-hundred yards down the lane, on the right.’

‘Got it.’

‘You’ll see a gatehouse and some tall, wrought-iron gates. Jackson will open them for you.’

Slipping his cheque book and pen into an inside pocket, Robert Carrington rose to his feet.

Dave stood up too, clearly intending to shake hands across the desk, but the older man gave him a perfunctory nod, and held out his hand to Eleanor.

Each time he’d touched her it had been like a small electric shock, but seeing no alternative, she braced herself and took it.

A mocking gleam in his eye, he said, ‘Thank you for your time, Miss Smith. I do hope you think it’s been worth it?’

He was as smoothly abrasive as pumice stone, she thought vexedly.

Without waiting for an answer, he released her hand and moved to the door. ‘I’ll expect you both sometime tomorrow afternoon.’ He sketched an ironic salute, and was gone.

Feeling limp, totally wrung out, Eleanor stood and listened to his footsteps receding down the uncarpeted stars.

‘Well done, kiddo!’ Dave flourished the cheque. ‘How did you manage to persuade him?’

‘I didn’t persuade him,’ she admitted.

‘So what did you have to promise him?’

‘Nothing. The only thing he seemed set on, was that we should stay at Greyladies.’

His ill-humour returning, he said resentfully, ‘Well I hope he’s damn well satisfied. It’s going to be hell stuck in the country in some crumbling old manor house.’

Dave hated the country, she knew. He always said it got on his nerves. A city boy through and through, he was only really happy when there were pavements beneath his feet and a snooker hall handy.

‘We’ll no doubt be relegated to the servants’ quarters and forced to eat with the staff…’ He pulled a face. ‘But as that’s what his lordship’s insisting on, we don’t have much choice.’

‘Can you make a guess as to how long the job might take?’ she asked.

‘A couple of weeks… If he’s paying really well, I might even stretch it to three.’

‘Three weeks?’ She couldn’t keep the dismay out of her voice.

Presuming her objection to be dislike of the country, the same as his, he said, ‘Don’t worry, I have every intention of coming back to town at the weekends. We can charge the petrol to his lordship.

‘Now I’d better get this little beauty paid into our account before the bank closes.’ Thrusting the cheque into his pocket, he added, ‘I can’t wait to see the manager’s face, after the way the snooty git talked to me this morning.’

‘Dave, you will be…polite, won’t you,’ she asked anxiously. ‘After all, we did have a cheque that bounced.’

‘That was yesterday. Today we’re riding high with ten thousand in the black.’

‘But we still owe Greenlees—’

‘Don’t worry about Greenlees. I’ll call in and explain the situation, give them a post-dated cheque they can cash as soon as Carrington’s is cleared.’

He went to fetch his coat. Looking in at the door on his way back, he said, ‘I reckon we’ve earned an early night, so I’m off home as soon as I’ve sorted that little lot.’

‘I thought perhaps we could go out later? Maybe have a meal somewhere?’

‘Sorry, kiddo. I’ve promised to play snooker with Tony and the boys. Pick you up tomorrow about three o’clock. I’ll give you a toot, so be ready. Love ya.’

A moment later he was gone, leaving her standing gazing blankly at the closed door.

Surely, if he really loved her, he wouldn’t always put “Tony and the boys” first?

But it wasn’t just a case of putting his friends first, she admitted dismally, apart from when they were working, he never seemed to want to spend any time with her….

Time…

All thoughts of Dave were abruptly driven out of her mind as once again she heard Robert Carrington’s deep voice saying with mocking emphasis, “Thank you for your time, Miss Smith. I do hope you think it’s been worth it?”

Though the time spent in his company had been anything but comfortable, and she had managed, in one way or another, to make a complete fool of herself, she couldn’t deny that it had been worth it.

After all, they had been given a job they badly needed, and a substantial cash advance to take them out of the red.

She should be vastly relieved, and of course she was. But some still small voice warned that nothing would ever be quite the same again. That just his entry into her life had shifted the balance and changed it in some fundamental way.

She felt a bit like Faust, as though she had sold her soul to the devil to get this job. Oh, don’t be a fool! she told herself crossly. All she had done was fail to correct Robert Carrington’s lie.

If she’d put his back up by saying she hadn’t agreed to stay at Greyladies, instead of having a job to look forward to, Smith and Benson might well be finished as a business.

And not only finished, but in debt.

Robert Carrington’s visit had changed everything, made all the difference. Not only to the business, but to her personally.

That was the rub, the reason for her malaise. His effect on her had been so potent that mingled with the relief was dismay and agitation, an alarming feeling that he had somehow breached her defences.

While Dave always seemed to be retreating from her like an ebb tide, Robert Carrington had swept in and swamped her, got inside her head.

She shivered. Then making a determined effort to put her inner turmoil aside, she went to fetch her mac and bag.

As she locked the office and made her way down the stairs and into the drizzly rain, she thought wistfully that it would have been nice to have done something to celebrate.

Well, she would! But there wasn’t much pleasure in going out for a solitary meal, so instead she would buy something to add to her meagre wardrobe, most of which had come from charity shops.

When the previous cheque had been paid into their account, saying he was in need of some new shirts and trousers and a decent jacket, Dave had spent what she had considered to be a serious amount on clothes.

Though there were several things she could have done with, nervous in case their money ran out, she had held back.

But now, though they would be eating with the staff at Greyladies, she would need to have something tidy to change into when the day’s work was done.

The nearest department store had just started its summer sale, and she went in to look around. In the lingerie department she bought some cheap, but pretty, undies.

Then, going through to Ladieswear, she chose a skirt and two tops from one of the reduced ranges and, with a sudden, unaccustomed feeling of recklessness, a simple shift in subtle shades of mauve and blue.

On her way out, a pair of sandals caught her eye and, with scarcely a qualm, she added them to her purchases.

By the time she got home, conditioned to not spending, she had started to regret her recklessness. But she wouldn’t feel guilty, she told herself firmly. The lot barely came to what Dave had spent on a jacket, and they now had ten thousand in the bank and a job that should pay well…

Next day dawned fine and, though the sky was still grey and overcast, there were breaks in the clouds. The weather report on the radio suggested that a high-pressure system was moving slowly in, which meant a settled spell was on its way, with soaring temperatures forecast.

Rejoicing at the prospect of seeing a bit of sunshine, even if it was only through some window, Eleanor cleared the small fridge and made herself a salad lunch. Then, having dressed in a patterned skirt and a plain lavender-coloured top, she swirled her hair into a neat knot before finishing her packing.

Dave was late, and it was nearly four-thirty before she heard the sound she’d been waiting for. Grabbing her case, her shoulder bag, and her jacket, she hastily locked up and made her way downstairs.

Outside, the fume-laden air was appreciably warmer, and the pavements were dry for the first time in what seemed weeks.

The white van was waiting by the kerb. Sliding open the rust-spotted door, she pushed her belongings inside, before climbing into the passenger seat.

‘I was wondering where you’d got to,’ Dave looked anything but pleased. ‘I’m parked on double yellows.’

‘I was wondering where you’d got to,’ she found herself saying, as they pulled out to join the traffic stream. ‘You’re more than an hour late.’

‘Had a game of snooker with the boys. It looks like the last bit of fun I’ll be getting till next weekend, stuck in some dead-and-alive hole.’

He made it sound as if it was the end of the world, she thought. Then chided herself for being so edgy. She didn’t usually criticise Dave in this way.

‘But it’s worth it, surely?’ She made an effort to sound cheerful.

‘I suppose so.’ Having reached out a hand and patted her knee, he turned on the radio. He liked his pop music loud, which made any kind of conversation virtually impossible.

As usual, the traffic was heavy, and stopping and starting they crawled their way out of London at a snail’s pace.

Left with her thoughts, Eleanor made a concentrated effort to steer them towards the—hopefully—not too distant future, when the business was thriving, and she and Dave could be married.

But the more she tried to focus on that future, the more nebulous it became, a kind of mirage that, as she attempted to grasp it, receded steadily, so that it was always out of reach.

The moment she stopped concentrating, her thoughts refocused on Robert Carrington. He had made such an impact on her, that since the previous afternoon she had thought of little else.

Images of his compelling, strong-boned face, his dark-lashed wolf’s eyes, his austere, yet oddly sensitive, mouth had filled her head. She remembered his voice and his well-shaped hands, how she had felt when he touched her.

He had flustered and disconcerted her, made her angry and reckless, altogether rattled her; and through it all had run a strong thread of attraction, fascination even, that she had refused to admit.

But apart from the way he had affected her, and the fact that he owned Greyladies, she knew nothing about him. Had he a wife? Children?

She recalled him saying, “Someone who loves you? In that case you’re one up on me”.

Did that mean he had no wife? Or a wife who didn’t love him? The media, while admitting that he guarded his privacy fiercely, had apparently dubbed him as a ladies’ man.

Of course that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t married… But if he was a philanderer, it might explain why his wife didn’t love him….