Читать книгу Beyond Compare - Пенни Джордан, Penny Jordan - Страница 8

‘DREW, I’M SO nervous. I don’t think I want to go.’

Holly was standing in the kitchen, wearing her new dress, her hair freshly washed, her face made-up, but all her courage had deserted her, and she didn’t think she was going to be able to face Howard and Rosamund.

‘You’ve got to,’ Drew told her bluntly. ‘Too many people know you’re here.’

It was true. Only this morning the postman had given her a cheery welcome, saying that he had heard from Mrs Matthews about her car and that she was staying at the farm. Knowing him, by now all her old friends would have heard she was home.

The party was going to be very formal, and initially she had been rather stunned by the sight of Drew in his dinnersuit. For one thing she hadn’t expected him to own a dinnersuit, but, when she had naïvely said as much, he had gravely informed her that he had had to buy one in order to attend the local Young Farmers’ ‘dos’.

He was even wearing a fashionable wing-collared shirt, so crisply laundered that it could have rivalled one of Howard’s. However, as she glanced downwards Holly forgot her doubts about attending the party and exclaimed, ‘Drew, you’re wearing green socks.’

‘Am I?’ He looked completely unperturbed. ‘I’d better go up and change them. It would help if you came with me and supervised.’ He saw her face and said quietly, ‘I’m colour-blind, Holly. Don’t you remember? Or at least, partially colour-blind. I could spend the rest of the evening up there trying to find the right pair.’

Of course, now that he mentioned it, she did remember him once saying to her about his inability to differentiate between certain colours.

‘To tell the truth,’ he confided as they went upstairs, ‘that’s one of the reasons I’ve hesitated about redecorating. I’m terrified of choosing the wrong colours.’

‘Oh, but surely Rosamund would have chosen those?’

At her side Drew heaved a sigh that lifted his chest and made her wonder absently how wide it was… certainly much wider than Howard’s. Howard’s chest was inclined to be uncomfortably bony, but then Howard didn’t have the benefit of working outside, she told herself loyally.

‘Perhaps once,’ Drew agreed mournfully. ‘Although she never really liked this house.’

‘I suppose she thought it wasn’t good enough for her,’ Holly said wrathfully, remember Rosamund’s snobbery.

At her side, Drew gave her a considering look which she didn’t see. ‘No, I suppose not.’

‘She must be blind,’ Holly told him roundly. ‘I think it’s lovely, but I suppose Rosamund would prefer one of those horrid little boxy things her father used to build.’

Ignoring her reference to the way in which Rosamund’s father had made his money, Drew agreed.

‘Yes, I think she would. She says old houses are dirty.’

Yes, Holly could just imagine her saying it, too.

‘That’s all she knows. Why, with a little bit of thought and care this house could be far more attractive than that awful place her father built.’

‘Do you think so?’ Drew commented doubtfully.

Resenting this aspersion on her knowledge and ability, Holly said firmly, ‘Yes. Yes, I do. In fact, I could prove it to you, Drew. You know I work for an interior designer now. Decorative paint finishes are my specialty. You know, dragging, sponging, marbling… that kind of thing. Perhaps you haven’t heard of them,’ she added kindly, ‘but they’re very much in demand.’

For some reason Drew looked as though he was having a problem controlling his facial muscles, probably because talking about the house and Rosamund brought home to him the reality of what had happened, Holly reflected compassionately.

‘Well, anyway, they are very much in demand.’ Modestly, she didn’t add that she herself was also very much in demand, as much for her inventive and imaginative trompe-l’oeil scenery as for her stencilling and dragging. ‘I’d love to have the opportunity to paint your kitchen,’ she added wistfully.

She could see it now, the cupboards dragged in sunny yellow, with perhaps a circlet of ivy and white dog-roses painted on the fronts. She could sponge the walls to match and make roller blinds that faithfully copied the landscape outside the windows.

Upstairs, this long corridor just cried out for something jolly and period… a scene from an alehouse, perhaps. There must be something she could use as a base in Chester library’s local history section. Carried away with enthusiasm, she forgot her nervousness.

‘It’s a pity you can’t stay up here longer and get this place sorted out for me,’ Drew commented, watching her.

‘I’d love to,’ she admitted, her eyes sparkling at the thought.

‘My bedroom’s here,’ he told her, pushing open a door.

It was a large room on the same side of the house as her own, but with more windows. It had a huge bed set in a carved cherrywood frame.

‘Oh, Drew, I love this!’ she told him reverently, forgetting his socks and touching the carving with gentle fingers.

‘Do you? I’m glad… I did it myself.’ He saw her astonishment and smiled. ‘Woodwork has always been a hobby of mine.’

Holly looked round the bedroom with new eyes, noting the wardrobe and dresser. ‘Did you make those as well?’ she asked him. He nodded.

But, beautiful though the furniture was, it needed the right setting to show it off properly. The bedroom’s walls and ceiling were painted magnolia, and looked dull, like the plain brown carpet and the beige curtains.

As though he read her mind, Drew said apologetically, ‘Knowing my problem with colours, I played it safe and chose ones I knew I could recognise.’

He was unexpectedly tidy for a man, far tidier than she was herself, she acknowledged guiltily, and far more domesticated. The meal he had prepared for them last night had been delicious, but then, living alone, he had no doubt had to learn how to look after himself.

‘We’d better get the socks, otherwise we’re going to be late.’ He walked over to the dresser and opened a drawer, and then turned to Holly, and said, ‘I suspect it would save time if you got them out for me.’

Obligingly, Holly went to the open drawer. Because Drew had opened it to its fullest extent, there was hardly enough space between his body and the bed for her to get past, but she managed it by wriggling slightly.

‘Here you are. I think these are black,’ she told him breathlessly, rifling through the drawer until she found the right pair. ‘I’ll… I’ll wait for you outside while you put them on.’

She saw his eyebrows lift and blushed furiously, but he didn’t make the kind of scathing comment Howard would have made in the same circumstances, simply smiling at her and watching her go.

She had forgotten that he was colour-blind, she mused as she waited for him; that would, of course, explain the awful combination of red sweater and brown cords into which he had changed last night.

Howard had perfect clothes sense. So perfect, in fact, that at times he criticised Holly’s own choice. Take this dress she was wearing tonight, for instance. Howard didn’t like her wearing red, he preferred her in pastel colours; he considered them to be far more feminine.

Drew didn’t keep her waiting long, ushering her outside into the cool October evening.

She was about to cross the yard when he forestalled her, swinging her up into his arms as he had done the previous day.

‘Drew!’ she protested breathlessly.

‘You’re wearing those idiotic heels again,’ he growled. ‘Don’t you ever wear sensible shoes?’

‘I can’t,’ she told him sadly. ‘I’m only five foot two, you know. I need the height.’

‘What for?’

For some reason his question flustered her, and she was glad that they had reached the Land Rover. Or had they? She peered at the vehicle in front of them, realising that it wasn’t the one she had travelled in the previous day.

‘Drew, this is a Range Rover.’

‘So it is,’ he agreed laconically.

It was almost brand new as well, Holly recognised as she saw the number-plate, and so luxurious inside that her eyes rounded in surprise.

‘I didn’t know you owned this.’

‘No? Well, you wouldn’t, would you?’

‘But, Drew, they’re terribly expensive.’

She couldn’t help remembering how as a teenager Drew had always had less money than the rest of them, and she suspected he must have bought the vehicle in a last-ditch attempt to impress Rosamund.

Poor Drew, she thought, tears stinging her eyes as he got in beside her and started the engine. His situation was so much worse than hers. At least she could escape back to London, but Drew would be forced to live almost side by side with Rosamund and Howard. But at least that way he would be there as a constant reminder of what they had once shared, while Howard…

They drove through the village and out again along the road off which Rosamund’s father had built his house. The last time Holly had visited it had been for Rosamund’s eighteenth birthday. That had been one May, with a marquee on the lawn and every other fashionable expense Rosamund’s mother could think of.

Tonight there was no marquee, but the line-up of cars down the long drive was evidence of the new social sphere in which Rosamund and her parents moved—Porsche, Jaguar, Mercedes and Rolls—and a tiny tremor of fear quaked through Holly.

Drew found a parking spot half-way down the drive, parking the Range Rover with commendable expertise.

Someone was walking down the drive toward them; a couple, to judge from the light female voice and its deeper male counterpart.

The footsteps stopped as they drew level with the Range Rover, and a voice Holly vaguely recognised demanded, ‘Drew, is that you?’

‘Hello, Jane—and Guy. How are you?’

‘Oh, we’re fine.’

Of course, Jane Phillips; Holly remembered her now. She had been quite a few years ahead of her in school. In the same class as Drew, come to think of it.

‘Good heavens!’ she exclaimed as Holly stepped forward. ‘It’s Holly Witchell, isn’t it? Well, now, how long have you two been together? Guy and I have just come back from the States. Guy’s been working over there for six months. Is this a new thing, or…?’

‘Stop gossiping, woman, I’m freezing,’ her husband interrupted.

When Drew would have fallen into step beside him Holly tugged on his arm and fibbed, ‘Drew, I’ve left my handbag in the Range Rover.’

While Drew patiently unlocked the door, Holly waited until the other couple were out of sight and then hissed, ‘It’s all right, Drew. I’ve got my handbag here, but I’ve just had the most marvellous idea! Well, it was Jane who gave it to me, really.’ She took a deep breath and then demanded, ‘Why don’t we pretend that we’re in love?’

Drew went so still and silent that Holly wondered if she ought to have broken the idea to him more gently.

‘With each other, I presume you mean?’ he said cautiously at last.

‘Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,’ Holly agreed, trying to control her impatience. Really, men could be so slow at times! Why on earth hadn’t she thought of it before? It was the ideal way for both of them to reconjure their ex-partners’ interest.

‘But I thought you were in love with Howard?’

‘I am,’ Holly agreed. ‘But can’t you see, the moment he starts to think I’ve fallen in love with you, he’s going to be so jealous… and of course, it will work the same way for you with Rosamund,’ she added hastily, just in case he should accuse her of being selfish.

‘Let me get this right,’ Drew said slowly. ‘You want us to pretend that we’re in love?’ He paused and then said slowly, ‘How much in love, Holly? What I mean to say is, are we newly in love, or are we to be—er—established lovers?’

‘Oh, newly in love, definitely,’ Holly told him. ‘You see, Howard is bound to guess what’s going on otherwise. He only told me about Rosamund a couple of weeks ago.’

‘Yes. Well, I can see that does rather complicate things. So, the impression we want to create is one of having taken one look at each other and fallen into one another’s arms with cries of rapture.’

‘Yes,’ Holly agreed doubtfully, suddenly unable to imagine how on earth they were going to achieve such an implausible deception. ‘You think it’s a silly idea, don’t you?’ she said quietly. ‘And I suppose you’re right.’

‘No, not silly,’ he surprised her by saying unsteadily, ‘but maybe a trifle ambitious.’

In the light of the pseudo-Victorian streetlamps that illuminated the entire length of the drive in a fashion more suited to a motorway service station, Holly saw the smile he struggled to control. Strangely, she was not offended by it.

‘I think we could perhaps carry it off, though, if we amended your plan slightly.’

Holly frowned and looked at him. ‘How?’

‘Well, let us suppose that we allow everyone to believe that one of us—me, for instance—has been secretly, madly in love with you for years. You, having bumped into me, have suddenly realised how very fanciable I am, and here we are.’

‘Well, yes,’ Holly agreed doubtfully, ‘but who’s going to believe you’ve been secretly in love with me, when everyone knows you’ve been going out with Rosamund?’

‘Well, it won’t be easy. But think of the effect it will have on the happy couple. Rosamund is a very jealous woman. Once she hears that I’ve really been in love with you all these years… well, she won’t like it.’

‘No, I don’t suppose she will,’ Holly agreed faintly. She was beginning to feel almost jealous of Drew’s inventiveness, wishing that she had been the one to get the role of the secretly pining lover.

‘You know, it’s a pity you have to rush back to London so soon,’ Drew told her casually. ‘I think if you could have managed to stick around for a while, the sight of us together would be almost bound to get results.’

‘Yes,’ Holly agreed regretfully. ‘It’s true what they say about propinquity.’

Drew muttered something under his breath, and she looked questioningly at him.

‘Er—nothing. Is it agreed, then? When we arrive in the Jensens’ drawing-room, we arrive as a couple?’

Holly took a deep breath and confirmed, ‘Yes.’

And then, before she could change her mind, she took a deep breath and added, ‘And I could stay on if you really think it might work, Drew. I’ve got over a month’s worth of holiday owing to me. That’s if you really think…’

‘Oh, yes, I’m sure it will work,’ he told her confidently. ‘You could decorate the kitchen for me. I’d pay you, of course.’

‘Oh, no!’ Holly was horrified. ‘Well, not unless you let me pay my board and food. Of course, I’ll have to check with Jan, she’s my boss, but I’m sure she won’t mind. Things are relatively slack at the moment.’

‘So it’s settled. Right, then, are you ready to face your audience, Holly Witchell?’

‘Yes… Yes, I think so.’

‘Come on, then, let’s go.’