Hideaway Heart

by Roumelia Lane

  "No breakfast yet, Chris?" He hurried in, fastening the knot of his tie. "I've got a round of golf with Bernard Howes this morning. We'll stay on at the club after lunch. Don't mind being left on your own for the day, do you ?''

  "Of course not," Chris smiled, putting on the kettle. She had never had the courage to ask her father the outcome of his meeting with Boyd that day, but there had been no mention of his name since and no more visits to his flat, so he must have agreed to the break. She spent the whole of the morning scrubbing out the shelves of the larder and making a note of items that were running low.

  It looked like a trip to town on Monday to replenish supplies. The afternoon was warm and still and with the tea-time pastries ready for the oven Chris went upstairs to change. It would be pleasant to potter in the garden, and she could pop indoors occasionally to see how the baking was going. It was good to feel the cool water on her skin after the energies of the day. She slipped into a sleeveless apricot silk and after a light dusting of makeup and hair smoothed back from her brow ran lightly down the stairs. The sound of a car pulling up outside in the lane didn't rate a second thought.

  The last of the snapdragons. had bloomed at the side of the house. While she was trimming off the faded heads Chris heard the gate go, but it wasn't until footsteps sounded almost behind her that she realized someone was paying a call on "Medway". She turned to find two people only a few feet away.

  "Clive! Paula! Well, for heaven's sake!" she exclaimed.

  Clive looked thin and brown and sheepishly gay. He held out his arms and gave her a brotherly hug. Paula, stunning in a tulip pink suit, embraced her warmly,

  "Have you heard the latest? I'm not to be thrown into the dungeons after all."

  "I saw it in the morning papers," Chris laughed. "It's marvellous news!"

  Clive spread himself expansively over a garden seat and Paula gazed around as though she was seeing the world for the first time.

  "Can I get you some tea or something?" The delight shining in her eyes, Chris turned eagerly towards the house and refreshments, but Clive held up his hand.

  "Thanks, Chris, but we can't stay. We're taking the next train down to Paula's relatives in Cornwall." He grinned. "We just thought you'd like to be the first to know ... or well, one of the first. Paula and I are getting married." At Chris's gasp of pleasure he shrugged and tossed a whimsical gaze at Paula. "Got to celebrate somehow!"

  "Wonderful idea!" Chris smiled. "Are you going to live on Cyrecano?"

  "Don't mention the name!" Paula laughed. "Clive's been offered a teaching job at one of the big art colleges in the Midlands."

  Clive pretended a grimace. "I think it will be a case of the kids teaching me," he grinned.

  "What about your job?" Chris turned to Paula. "Aren't you going to miss the colourful travelling life?"

  "Colourful?" Paula slanted a wry eyebrow. "After my last experience and what I've been through since I'm looking forward to the quiet life and ..." she took a deep and ecstatic breath, "good old English suburbia!"

  When the laughter had died Clive looked at his watch. "That's it, I'm afraid." He stretched himself reluctantly. "You'll come to the wedding, Chris? We'll let you know when the date's fixed."

  "Love to." Chris held out her hand, but Clive took her jerkily by the shoulders.

  "And thanks for everything," he finished.

  "That goes for me too," Paula smiled, taking her hand. "I don't know what you said to the big oaf, but it worked!"

  "Not me," Chris twinkled. "You just underestimated your powers of attraction."

  "What attraction?" Darkly Clive drew Paula close and dropped a kiss lightly on her lips. Chris followed them to the gate, and waited for them to step into the long white car. She couldn't understand why they passed it by. Clive turned to wave.

  "Tell Boyd thanks for the lift! We'll walk back."

  Chris's jaw dropped. She continued to wave mechanically until the pair disappeared round the bend and then turned with spinning heart. Boyd here at the cottage? It couldn't be true. Could it?

  She traced her steps along the path, letting her eyes roam warily around the sides of the house. The air was still, so still she could hear the beat of a sparrow's wing as it dipped over the lawn. A cloud of gnats hung over the chrysanthemums; they scattered vaguely as a wasp droned by. The sun's rays dappled the dry earth beneath the apple tree. There was no one in the garden. She walked in at the front door and through the living room towards the kitchen. At the sight of a pearl grey suit jacket draped over the back of a chair her heart careered madly downhill. If it hadn't been for the aroma emanating from the kitchen, reminding her of the baking, she might have fled. As it was it seemed wiser to save the pastries first.

  She hurried through to find Boyd, ovencloth in hand, reaching into the shelf of the oven. He stretched and gazed down at the tray.

  "I think these tarts are just about done," he observed calmly.

  Chris felt rooted. The sight of Boyd's bulk in the tiny kitchen left her too weak to move. She saw the grey slacks and white shirt, the immaculate gold-studded cuffs and silk tie . . . all this, and an ovencloth and a tray of cakes! The incongruity of the picture made her lips quirk. She stifled the smile as he looked round vaguely for somewhere to put the tarts.

  "Er ... on here." She pulled the wire tray forward on the table and tilted his hand so they would slide off. He was no longer looking at the tray. Chris moved away hurriedly.

  "If you came to see my father I'm afraid he's out," she said. "He went out for the day."

  "I know." Boyd dusted his hands and gazed about him with interest. "You don't actually live in this doll's house?"

  Chris felt ridiculously tongue-tied, but she couldn't just stand there.

  "I... didn't know you'd driven Clive and Paula out here. Were you in the garden ?"

  "For a while." Without warning he swung the woodsmoke gaze down her way. "Long enough to take in your reaction."

  "I'm not sure I..."

  "You didn't go to pieces at the news," he enlarged, lazily thrusting his hands deep into his pockets.

  "About Clive and Paula? Why should I?"

  "I just wanted to make sure."

  Chris felt her pulses flying. Why wouldn't he look away, if only to give her time to catch her breath? She moved over to straighten out the heap of tarts, forgetting they were still hot from the oven. As a globule of hot jam caught at her finger she winced and whipped her hand towards her mouth. It never arrived. It was stopped and held by another. Boyd brushed his lips over her fingers.

  "I've been wanting to put two and two together - the way Paula talked and you hot-footing it back here and not wanting to stay with Clive." He held on to her lingers. "I daren't trust myself even now."

  Chris looked up drowningly. "Boyd, I think we should..."

  "Forget the past two weeks? So do I." He drew her close against him. "To get back to that last day on Cyrecano. The position before we were interrupted was something like this, I believe." His voice was curiously thick as he murmured,

  "The look in your eyes told me something, but after Beirut I couldn't be sure. You didn't exactly put it into words."

  Chris stared levelly at his tie. "If I had done would you still have gone with Paula ?"

  He shrugged. "Who knows? The girl was in a state, and Huston didn't look as though he was going to budge." The grip about her tightened. "Well, go ahead. I can promise you there'll be no interruptions this time."

  Slowly Chris raised shy brown eyes. "I . . . don't know what to say..." she whispered.

  "All right, don't say anything." With a slow smile he brought his mouth down to hers and kissed her long and lingeringly. He raised his head for a second to give her a smouldering look. "I like it fine when you don't talk."

  Several minutes later, her lips warm with Boyd's kisses, Chris tried to draw gently away.

  "Oh no, I'm not letting you go! This could be another Beirut. Remember Beirut?" He brushed his lips through her hair and
then held her away from him with a quizzical frown. "I used to wonder if I'd dreamt that night. Yours was the neatest about-turn I've ever had to take from a woman."

  "I thought you never had time for them ?'' she smiled.

  She was back in his arms.

  "I must have been out of my mind!" he grinned.

  "But there was Paula. Mrs. Lovell told me."

  "Mrs. Lovell ?'' He looked vague.

  "Coming back from Beirut." Chris was looking at his tie again. "She told me that you'd known Paula in London and had gone to Beirut hoping for some kind of reconciliation."

  Boyd nodded slowly, dawningly. "Now I'm beginning to get the picture. Why you backed off into Huston's arms," he sighed mildly. "Remind me to strangle that charming lady sometime!"

  Chris raised her eyes slowly. "But you did know Paula before?"

  "She was the one girl who could tell me all I wanted to know about the occupant on Cyrecano." He slanted her a humorous gleam. "Businesswise I considered it a good investment to take her out oil occasion. Paula hadn't a clue what it was all about, but she didn't exactly stint on information concerning the island."

  "Of all the scheming . . ." She gave him a look of mock disgust. "I might have known there'd have been a business angle!"

  He shrugged, drawling, "It didn't do me much good."

  Chris drew away, thoughtfully smoothing her hair. "You mean you're no longer interested in Cyrecano?"

  "If I was it's too late to do anything about it now. I passed the deal on to the Burman Developments. They were breathing down my neck most of the time."

  Chris stared. "You gave it to Burman's? Your biggest rival?"

  He nodded. "They've got ideas for Cyrecano and one or two of the smaller islands."

  "What kind of ideas?"

  "On the same lines as Hideaways, with an airstrip on each of the islands, I believe."

  Chris drew in her lip, pondering, "That will mean survey teams. I wish I'd known earlier. Burman's, you say?"

  Boyd turned from the window to twinkle in her direction.

  "If you're thinking of going over there to plead your sweet little cause again, forget it. It was all clinched last week - the day I saw your father."

  "You mean Dad's got the job for Cyrecano and the other islands too? Why, good heavens, that's ..." With shining eyes she took a step forward and then stopped, "... an awful lot of work," she finished.

  "He'll cope. Howes is pretty interested in the business. It's quite on the cards they'll go into partnership."

  Chris looked blank. "Howes? But isn't he your key man in the business field?"

  "Was," with a dry smile. "I've been finding it difficult to sustain any affection for big business these days, though I've kept one or two things in the pot. I'm hanging on to the Barbary Cloud and the Villa Tamerlane is an open question."

  Chris hadn't got any further than the previous piece of news.

  "Bernard Howes," she reflected with a smile. "Dad has been seeing a lot of him lately. I'm glad. I like Howes."

  "Like anyone else?'' He came over to take her hand.

  "Who, for instance?"

  "Me, for instance."

  She raised a critical smile. "I suppose I can put up with you."

  "Enough to marry me ?''

  "I'll have to think about that."

  "You've got just two seconds. And to get back to the subject of the Villa Tamerlane. What do you think?"

  Not quite sure of his question, Chris murmured,

  "It's a bit big..."

  "All the more room for the patter of tiny feet," and then with the dark slant of an eyebrow, "The large rumbustious family, remember?" He brushed his lips along the blush of her cheek and she returned in a low voice,

  "The art treasures had better watch out!"

  He nodded absently. "Remember young Gabriel? He must be quite a bouncer by now. We're invited back to the anniversary."

  There was a silence, and she knew he was thinking of Dan too. She wound her arms about his neck.

  "I'd like to go back to Cathai, but what about you? Won't you feel cut off?"

  "From what?" He looked down at her thoughtfully. "You know, all that time I spent at the Trokata farm I became quite interested. Maybe I'll start one up of my own."

  "You a farmer? I don't believe it!"

  "Why not?" He drew her close with an ominous smile. "I'm tired of making money. How does the old saying go? The British make money and the French make love. Who knows," he found her mouth, "maybe I've changed my nationality."

  "Boyd..."

  Chris pushed gently away. "Dad might come back!"

  "Not a chance. We made a deal," he grinned.

  "That's the story of your life. Right from that very first day!"

  She turned up a taunting smile. "Too much to hope for a femme fatale... I believe those were the words, weren't they?"

  He buried his face in her hair.

  "I didn't know then my own goose was cooked," he murmured.

  "I'm glad Clive and Paula made it," Chris sighed happily, "though I never thought they would, seeing you two together that night at Marcus's."

  Boyd shrugged. "Paula was strung up. I thought a night out might ease the tension a little."

  "Why did you decide to come out to Cyrecano?" she asked.

  He looked down at her. "All along I'd wanted to keep you clear of Paula's troubles, but that night, with Clive the state he was in, I reckoned your position couldn't be much worse. In any case Paula was aching to get to Clive."

  "Well, she did get to him," Chris smiled. "They invited me to the wedding, by the way."

  "Nothing doing. You'll be too busy attending your own."

  Chris didn't argue on this point. After a while she mused,

  "You men! You stick together. Imagine Dad knowing about the contract and not saying a word."

  "I threatened to disown him as a father-in-law if he so much as let out a peep." He lifted her hand thoughtfully. "Which reminds me, that third finger looks frighteningly bare. Can we make it for a ring?"

  "What, now?" Chris was breathless.

  Boyd looked at his watch. "Four-thirty." He went towards the living room and his jacket. "Let's go!"

  "But, Boyd," Chris looked down at her dress and soft sandals, "I can't go like this!"

  "You look great." He ushered her out of the door and down the path. "And I'm not waiting the whole of the weekend to know you're exclusively mine!"

  The long white car quivered into action. Chris watched Boyd ease it smoothly away from the curb and out into the lane. His eyes met hers and held for a moment. Her heart sang. If this was the road of love then she would want to travel it with no other man.