‘Then surely it would be more accommodating to stay in a hotel.’
He shrugged and raised his hands.
‘It is her way,’ he said.
* * *
Next morning she was in the wing before anyone else arrived. Consulting her notes and measuring for possible carpets and furniture, she didn’t hear Maurice enter.
‘What do you think of the architect’s plans?’ he asked, making her jump. She spun around, drawing in the tape and shoving it into the pocket of her jeans.
‘A self-contained apartment for Francine makes a lot of sense. The lift is feasible for the upper floor.’ She shrugged. ‘And I suppose the top floor would be suitable for the nurse. It will certainly leave the rest of the house free for guests. Etienne tells me they use the house infrequently so it would make sense to lease the main part of the house on short term lets.’
‘I didn’t ask you what the plans were, I asked you what you thought about them.’ He smiled as a visible shudder ran over her body. ‘If this house was yours, and you intended to live in it full time tell me how you would see it.’
She hesitated.
This wing has a huge room on the first floor. Have you seen it? It could make two bedrooms and a bathroom, but it lends itself to so much more.’
She was lost in a world of her own making— a room for children to curl up on the sill of the windows and watch the carriages arrive and depart on the drive; a large table with several chairs; cupboards with books, slates and powdery paint in pots. In the room above, children hiding behind what she now knew the old bundle of carpets to be, tapestries for covering the walls; a row of cots and cupboards of toys and nannies in chairs; clothes on the fireguard to air.
Her dreams came to a full stop when she saw Maurice watching her, narrowed eyes assessing. With a quick glance at her notebook she turned and walked across to the staircase.
‘What will happen to the door on the top floor? Have you ever been out on to the roof. Etienne said a workman fell to his death out there.’
He drew a ring of large keys from his trouser pocket and followed her up the spiral staircase. Once on the creaking floor he crossed to the two steps and the door that led out on to the roof.
‘You should never have been up here on your own. It’s none too safe.’
The key grated in the lock and with a creak, the door opened outwards.
Eager not to miss a lost opportunity, Alison hurried after him. The wind took her breath away as she stepped outside. Space was everywhere, to the extent that she felt quite dizzy. After a while things settled. Maurice was saying something to her from the other side of the roof.
Then she realised that he was telling her to get back inside. He was coming around towards her and, not feeling up to a confrontation here on the roof top, she turned back the way she had come.
Once back on the ground floor he turned to her and said, ‘Make some sketches of how you see this wing and let me have them tomorrow.’
* * *
Alison worked through the afternoon and into the evening. She sent her apologies when she missed dinner. Elle appeared at eight o’clock with a tray of soup and a pile of home-baked ham in sandwiches. She stayed to admire Alison’s drawings.
Alison stretched and yawned at nine o’clock, satisfied that the completed work was the best she could offer. Picking up the tray she headed downstairs and through the hall to the kitchen. The light was on. Expecting to see Elle she was startled when Maurice spoke from his seat at the table.
‘Have you finished?’
‘Yes.’ She put the tray down by the sink and rinsed her dishes.
‘Are they the same ideas you never got around to explaining to me this morning?’
Alison kept her back to him while she sloshed the dishes around in the sink.
‘No.’
She heard the chair creak as he rose to his feet. She emptied the dish of water and picked up a tea towel before spinning around to face him.
‘Well, I won’t sleep until I’ve seen them. Fetch them for me.’
She held his gaze with a defiant stare then, shrugging her shoulders, she thrust the tea towel at him and left the room.
There’s no hurry, she told herself as she slowly cleared her worktop and rolled the drawings together. Back in the kitchen she handed them over without a word and turned to go.
‘Where are you off to?’ he asked as he unrolled the paper across the kitchen table. ‘I thought we could discuss these now.’
‘Well, you thought wrong. I’m tired and I have to be up early so if you will excuse me, I’ve covered enough work for one day.’
He looked up and frowned but she wasn’t waiting to argue and swept out of the kitchen.
Once back in her room she remembered she had been going to make herself another hot drink. Well, she wasn’t going back down there again now, and feeling decidedly grumpy she got ready for bed.
* * *
It was raining heavily next morning when Alison came down to breakfast. Etienne and Elle were the only two people sitting around the large, scrubbed table.
Etienne immediately jumped to his feet to hold out a chair for her.
‘You cannot work while the builders fill the house with dust and banging. I have to take Francine up to London, so why don’t you come with me? We will leave Francine at the offices of her friend and you and I can do whatever you wish.’
Alison laughed.
‘I wish that was possible, but builders or not, there is still work to be done. I have extra staff coming down today and must be available to find them accommodation when they arrive.’
He made a dismayed gesture to Elle.
‘You see how I am thwarted at every turn.’
The French woman just laughed and continued with the preparation of Alison’s breakfast.
‘Then you must promise to dine with me tonight.’
‘Ah, ah, I will take no excuses.’ He interrupted when Alison tried to explain that she was tired. not having slept much the previous night for worrying about the drawings she had given Maurice.
‘Have you seen Maurice this morning?’
‘He has gone up to London, someone he had to see.’
Alison felt him watching her as she bit into her toast.
‘The mouse does not play while the cat is away. I wonder why that is?’
‘I have never been one for bunking-off, Etienne. Besides, Maurice has just offered me a golden opportunity and I intend to make full use of it.’
She looked up from her coffee and caught the expression of suspicion that crossed his face.
Replacing the cup in its saucer she smiled.
‘Thank you, I would love to have dinner with you tonight.’
He left her then with a smile and a kiss on the hand.
‘Until tonight, my beautiful Alison.’
Elle shook her head and tut-tutted to the stove as the kitchen door closed behind him.
* * *
Sharon Lisserman arrived at the front door in William Harker’s old Rolls Royce in time for lunch. Alison was watching out for her. With speed she left the house just as the chauffeur was climbing out of his seat.
‘Stay where you are, Roley,’ she called, ‘and you can take us back down to the village pub. I think it’s called The Kicking Cuddy.’
‘That’s right, miss, saw it on the way up,’ he said, settling himself back into his seat. ‘I’ll have a drink and a sandwich before I go back. There’s not a lot to do before I collect Mr Harker from work.’
Alison smiled. Roley Thompson and his wife had been very kind to her during her stay with William, When they pulled up in front of the low, rose-covered doorway of the inn, Sharon was cooing with pleasure. Alison urged her into the bar and introduced her to the landlady, Cynthia Tremble.
‘I hope you’ll be very comfortable with us. My son, Tom, will take your bags up, Miss Lisserman.’
She turned into a back passage and shouted for her son.
A stocky, san
dy-haired man of about thirty came up the passage. Alison barely noticed as he picked up the bags and waited for Sharon to follow him. Sharon turned back to Alison and gave her a grin and a wink as she followed the fellow up the stairs.
‘I’ll see you back at the house in half-an-hour,’ Alison called after her.
Francine and Etienne returned home from London at six o’clock that evening. Alison had just finished work and seen Sharon off on her way back to the pub. Francine smiled at her when they met in the hall.
‘I am so pleased that you’ll spend this evening with Etienne. Maurice gives you a glowing report and he is a good judge of character.’
She patted Alison’s arm before limping away in front of her fussing nurse.
Alison was struck dumb. For the life of her she couldn’t take in what she had just heard. She made her way slowly upstairs to her room and still in a daze prepared a leisurely bath.
It was while soaking in the bath that the full impact of Francine’s remark hit her. She had been discussed by two strangers, one of them Maurice Kyle of all people, and found acceptable for Etienne’s attentions.
A burst of anger had her sitting upright in the bath. Pulling her legs beneath her and flinging her arms out to maintain balance, she made to climb out of the bath, but slipped and fell face forward. She took a gulp of bathwater before rising up, spitting bubbles.
To pot with the lot of them, she seethed, standing once more on the bath mat and grabbing at a large towel which she proceeded to wrap tightly around herself. She opened the door and exited the room in a cloud of steam.
Maurice Kyle was standing in the open doorway of her bedroom!
‘What the devil was going on in there? I thought there must be two of you …’
He got no farther as, screaming at him like a banshee, she slammed the door in his face and turned the key in the lock.
Etienne was innocent of their conniving, she decided. She wouldn’t let their opinion influence her friendship with him one way or the other. Maurice considered her an acceptable partner for Etienne, did he? Well, she knew she was and now she would prove it.
* * *
Guests were arriving as she moved down the stairs. Etienne glanced up and saw her. Straight away he excused himself from the woman he had been talking to and met Alison in the hall.
‘I had better introduce you around before we leave.’
She took his hand with reluctance and the first person eagerly awaiting an introduction was the friend Etienne had spoken of before, the one who would try to steal her away from him.
Not a chance, she thought, looking into the dead eyes of a man who had seen and done everything several times over.
‘Joseph Holden Myres at your service,’ he murmured before Etienne could speak.
‘Thank you.’ she said in her coolest business voice. ‘But your services will not be required.’
Telling glances passed between the men, then she was turned to face he woman she had seen Etienne talking to as she came down the stairs.
‘Alison, t would like you to meet Sylvia Cornwall. Sylvia is a very talented local artist’
Sylvia was a tall, beautifully-groomed woman of middle age. Her bright blue eyes and dark hair gave her a Celtic look. She was wearing the soft blues and greens of a bluebell wood in springtime and Alison took an immediate liking to her. They spoke for several minutes before Etienne dragged her off to meet the couple talking to Francine on the far side of the room.
As they made to cross the room the man spoke to his partner and Alison froze. She turned to Etienne, a desperate expression on her face. ‘What is it, Alison? What is wrong? Are you ill?’
‘Yes, yes, that’s it,’ she said, clutching at the opportunity presented to her. ‘I need the bathroom.’
She allowed him to hurry her through to the cloakroom. Standing with her back to the cloakroom door, she fought her panic.
After a while she moved forward to the basins and ran her wrists under the cold water tap. She didn’t attempt to fool herself by making excuses that plenty of men had that same kind of voice.
It was him. Her father! There was no doubt in her mind.
CHAPTER SIX
Etienne’s company was, as ever, pleasant. They ate in a local hotel that had once been some aristocrat’s home. The food was delicious, the live music gentle, old-fashioned ballroom. They talked and danced and talked some more.
‘I am pleased you are feeling better now. You are enjoying this evening, I think?’
She laughed and gave him a determined smile.
‘You’re good company, Etienne, and you know it, so stop fishing for compliments and tell me who it was I missed being introduced to.’ He dismissed the question with a wave of his hand.
‘It is not important.’
‘But I think I might know the man,’ she persisted.
‘I doubt that. Victor Brewer lives in France. He hasn’t been to this country in years. He made a fortune in South America when he was younger then he moved to France and met Francine. Now he would like very much for her to marry him but she will not marry again. Oh, she likes to flirt, but …’ He threw his hands up in a shrug.
Alison felt the colour leave her face. Oh, he had made his fortune all right, but not in South America. Anger and fear blazed through her, making her shiver.
‘And the woman with him?’ she forced herself to ask.
‘That is Maria Cicognani, an Italian singer. Francine is her sponsor as she is Sylvia’s. Francine has always collected people with potential talent. It gives her comfort to think that she has created something beautiful in giving these people to the world.’
‘Let’s dance,’ she said, taking him by the arm.
She couldn’t go back to that house until she was sure everyone would have retired. Later she would plan what she must do.
The house was in total darkness when at last they returned. They left the car and crept across the grass to avoid crunching on the gravel. Etienne thought it a huge joke as she shushed him through the hall and into the west wing of three bedrooms, her own and two guest rooms.
Etienne held her close outside her door. Alison was a mass of quivering nerves at the thought of perhaps being so close to the man she called father.
Thankfully, Etienne was interpreting her agitation in a different direction and after kissing her hand and both cheeks, wished her good-night.
‘Sweet dreams, my Alison,’ he whispered.
* * *
Alison and Sharon, heads together over an old table in their makeshift office, studied the plans laid out before them. The hammering and banging coming from the next room ceased momentarily and Alison found herself shouting at Sharon. They were both laughing when Maurice entered the room.
When he started to ask what they were laughing at, the banging started up once more and with a frown pulling down his brows he signalled both girls outside.
‘Sharon, get back to that pub of yours and see if the landlady can let us have a room to use as an office. You can’t be expected to work under these conditions.’
After casting a sly eye at Alison on her way out, Sharon left for the pub.
Taking Alison by the arm, Maurice guided her out of the east wing and down the corridor to the kitchen.
‘Cup of tea?’ he asked moving across to the kettle singing quietly on the range and taking down two mugs from the hooks to one side of the Aga. ‘Elle is helping the nurse with Francine. She had a bad night, I believe.’
‘How long have you known Francine?’
‘Since she married Georges in Greece. I was in my teens at the time. He was an important man when he came back to the village he had been born in, to marry the young French widow of a good friend.’
He spoke with his back to her, hand poised over a sugar bowl.
‘One sugar and a little milk.’
‘You were late back last night. I hope nothing was amiss,’ he said as he walked towards her, a mug in each hand.
‘We had a lovely
time.’ She smiled as she took the mug from his hand.
‘I shouldn’t get too close. He won’t hang around, you know.’
‘Is that some kind of warning? If so, it’s wasted. He’s good company, that’s all, not that it is any of your business, anyway.’
He nodded.
‘Do you want to know what I think of your drawings?’
‘I would like to ask you why you had me do them, to what purpose?’
He shrugged.
‘Perhaps to see if your work was up to college-leaving standard.’
Alison gasped, then remembered how she had berated him on that first meeting. She had hoped he had forgotten that incident by now but obviously not.
When she thought of the hard work she had put into those drawings, hoping that perhaps he was going to give her some praise or encouragement, she felt like screaming. Instead, she drank tea.
‘I liked them.’
She lowered the mug slowly and gave him a direct stare.
‘In fact, I liked them so much I took them to London with me and showed them to a friend. He liked them also.’
Alison licked round her lips and sat back in her chair, waiting.
‘He liked them so much, he wants you to decorate his apartment.’
Silence fell between them while Alison digested his announcement.
‘I work for Harkers’. I can’t go behind William’s back.’
‘Nobody is asking you to. Do you think I would have suggested this if I thought it would take anything from Markers’?’
‘Oh, I see, this is your way of getting rid of me. I don’t think …’
Maurice walked away across the kitchen before spinning back to face her.
‘Don’t be stupid, woman. Even if this assignment was a success, it takes time to build a business, to make a name for yourself. It would have to be done in your spare time. I would expect no slacking at Harkers’.’
He would expect! Who did he think he was, she seethed, but she bit her tongue, then replaced her mug and moved off towards the door, ears pricked for the sound of any guests.
The Art of Romance Page 4