She and Harry were hard at work the following morning when the light of Harry's desk telephone began to flash on and off. 'Damn the thing,' said Harry. 'Let's ignore it.'
But after a few minutes as the light continued to go in and out he said despairingly, 'I had the bell taken out because it used to distract me, thinking I could turn my back on a light, but dash it, I always find myself wondering who's on the other end of the line. I suppose I'll have to answer it,' and picking up the receiver he said irritably, 'Hello! Redmayne here.'
He was silent for a few minutes listening to the caller on the other end, and Bobbie, sitting on the other side of the desk and endeavouring to read his expression, thought she detected faint surprise in his eyes. 'Well, I'm sorry you weren't allowed to come in. I don't see anybody except by appointment. You ought to have rung before you left London. Where are you, by the way?'
He waited for a few minutes and then went on, 'Well, in that case, you'd better come to lunch. If you drive straight up here you should be at the house in about five minutes. I'll send Bobbie out to meet you.'
He put the telephone back on its cradle and gazed across the desk for a few minutes in silence. 'We're having an unexpected visitor, my dear,' he announced at last.
Bobbie looked a question. 'Your boss, Miss Marie Gibson, in person. Apparently she came up here earlier and Mabel wouldn't let her in, so she's telephoning from the village.'
'What's she come down for?' Bobbie asked.
'No idea. Your guess is as good as mine,' said Harry. 'But since she is here, the least we can do is give her a meal before she goes back to town. As you heard, I promised her you'd be on the steps as a welcoming committee, so you'd better get going. Don't bring her in here, by the way. Take her into the drawing-room and ply her with drink. I'll be with you in about twenty minutes.'
Before she went to the front door to await Marie's unexpected arrival Bobbie put her head round the kitchen door to tell Mabel there would be an extra one for lunch. 'I hope it won't put you out, Mabel,' she added. 'It's my boss from London. She's come down on the spur of the moment. She called here about ten minutes ago and asked to see…'
'Yes, she did,' Mabel interrupted her. 'I didn't know she was your boss, Miss Bobbie, or of course I'd have let her come in. She gave me some long tale about wanting to see Mr. Harry, so of course I choked her off immediately. He never sees anybody without a proper appointment.'
'I don't know why she's come, but she's to stay to lunch just the same,' Bobbie explained, and made her escape as quickly as she could.
She reached the front steps just as Marie drove up the circular drive and got out of the car. As she walked across the gravel Bobbie noticed that Marie had taken particular care with her appearance this morning. Always immaculate, she was looking particularly well groomed in a navy linen suit with deep turquoise accessories.
'Surprise, surprise,' she said, leaning forward to plant a quick kiss on Bobbie's cheek. 'We were pretty slack this morning, so I thought I'd just hop down and see how you were getting on.'
Bobbie, taking her inside the house, knew instinctively that this was not the real reason. Marie seldom if ever bestirred herself sufficiently to visit clients in their own houses. No, there was more behind it than this apparently frank admission.
'Harry's busy at the moment. He asked me to meet you and give you a drink. You're staying to lunch, of course.'
'Yes, he did ask me on the telephone,' Marie said, patting a stray curl into place and sizing up her appearance in the mirror which hung over the drawing-room mantelpiece. 'I must say this is a gorgeous place, Bobbie. I'd no idea the house was quite so comfortable and large.'
'They're a big family. A small house wouldn't be much use,' Bobbie explained. 'But in any case this house was in the Redmayne family long before Harry was ever born. They must have owned it for years and years.'
'Oh, I see, and all his family live here too, do they?' Marie enquired slowly. 'So anyone fortunate enough to hook Henry Redmayne would have to take Mum as well.'
'I suppose so,' Bobbie said. 'I never thought of it like that. But then she's a sweetie. I've been acquainted with her all my life and I've never known her be nasty to anyone. I should think she'd make someone a super mother-in-law.'
Marie was eyeing her curiously. When she spoke, however, it was on another topic. 'You did say something about a drink, sweetie, didn't you? How about it?'
'Sorry, I forgot,' Bobbie apologised. 'What will you have?'
Marie walked over to the table where the drinks were kept and poured herself a generous gin and tonic. Bobbie merely took her usual bitter lemon and the girls strolled over to the window and looked out on to the well-kept lawns.
'This is a marvellous place to work,' Marie said as she sipped her drink. 'I suppose he couldn't do with two secretaries, could he?' and she put on such a pseudo-arch expression that Bobbie very nearly grinned.
'Well, there's nothing to stop you replacing me if you're that keen, Marie,' she suggested.
'I just might at that,' Marie replied as she turned to gaze once more around the spacious drawing-room. 'I just might think it worth…' she stopped speaking as the door was pushed open and Harry himself appeared. He had made no effort to dress himself up for the visitor's benefit, Bobbie thought to herself as she noticed he was still in old slacks and an open-necked shirt, the sleeves rolled above his elbows. But as he walked across and held out his hand when she made the introductions she was struck once more by the feelings which she had first experienced in the grounds of Huddington Court, of his intense virility and vigour. It was quite obvious that Marie was fully aware of Harry Redmayne as an attractive man. She made no effort to remove her hand from his, simply gazing up at him, admiration in her eyes, saying flatteringly, 'You're even nicer than your voice led me to believe, Mr. Redmayne. I can't imagine why Bobbie here hesitated when you first said you wanted to use our agency.'
'Too kind, Miss Gibson,' Harry retorted, and Bobbie knew from the tone of his voice that he was secretly amused. 'I realise what a personal loss it must be for you to have Bobbie here and not on hand in your office. She's an absolutely first-class person to have around, especially for work like mine, and I can't imagine how I ever managed without her. My last secretary wasn't a patch on her. I do hope this happy state of affairs is going to continue and that you haven't come down here to lure her back to town.'
Bobbie nearly laughed outright as she could see Marie's surprise at this high-flown praise. It really was naughty of Harry to tease like this.
'Of course she must stay,' Bobbie could hear the eagerness in Marie's voice. 'I haven't come down here to do anything so rotten as to deprive you of a secretary, especially at what must be a crucial stage of your latest masterpiece. No, I've merely come down to assure myself that everything is satisfactory and to return the first cheque you gave us: I've made a list of our usual charges, and we'll adhere to those of course in future. If I send you a bill every month will that be all right?'
'Perfectly,' Harry smiled. 'If you leave it with Bobbie I'll make a cheque out and you can take it back with you today if you wish.'
'Perhaps we could discuss that after lunch,' Marie said, 'just the two of us, I mean,' and fluttered her eyelashes at him so blatantly that Bobbie nearly giggled. She moved away quickly before she laughed outright and Marie spotted her uncontrollable mirth. There was no doubt Harry could do no wrong and there seemed every possibility that she would be allowed to stay until his book was finished.
Since Marie made it obvious over lunch that she would like Harry to herself, Bobbie made an excuse and went back to her office as soon as they finished eating. There were one or two quotations which Harry wanted her to look up, and she discovered that two of them would mean a trip to the public library, but she was sure he would not be pleased to find she had gone out on today of all days and decided to leave it until she could inform him of her intentions.
But tea-time came and went without any sign of Harry or of Marie
Gibson, until at a quarter to five the door of the long room was flung open and Harry walked in.
Beyond saying briefly, 'You can go now if you want, I've just seen your friend off,' he made no comment on the sudden appearance of Marie in Charlton Heath, nor did he ask Bobbie any awkward questions which she might have had difficulty in answering. She was a little at a loss herself to know why the visit had been made, and to have to admit this without any apparent disloyalty to Marie would have been extremely difficult, so she was glad to be spared a catechism.
But Bobbie could not help wondering what Harry himself had made of the whole episode and what he and Marie had been saying to one another since lunchtime. He had looked as if his patience was strained to its limits. As she covered her typewriter Bobbie hoped Marie had not displayed too much curiosity about his private life. One thing he would not forgive was indiscriminate gossiping.
CHAPTER FOUR
Having been given the evening off, Bobbie decided to make the most of it and get out of the house quickly before Harry changed his mind. She went upstairs and had a quick wash, changed into more comfortable shoes and set off to walk down to her parents' house.
She was surprised when she returned just before eleven o'clock to find everywhere silent. There was no sign of Mr. and Mrs. Sorensen, Harry or even of Mabel, she discovered, when she put her head round the door of the darkened kitchen. Bobbie helped herself to a glass of cold milk and was carrying it up to drink in her bedroom when, as she turned out of the kitchen corridor, two hands covered her eyes. She stopped dead just as a laughing voice from in front said suddenly, 'Your turn in a minute,' and warm lips were pressed on hers.
As the hands dropped from her eyes Bobbie, trying valiantly to prevent the milk from spilling on the carpet, looked up to see Nils Sorensen laughing down at her. And then an arm came round her shoulder from behind and Sean, saying, 'My turn now,' bent down and kissed her too.
'This is a fabulous surprise! We've come home to find the cupboard bare. Not a member of the family at home and no Mabel. Where have they all got to?'
'No idea,' Bobbie replied. 'I've only just come in myself. They must be out for the evening.'
'What! Mabel as well?'
'Why not?' Bobbie's voice was tart. 'She has to have some time to herself. Or do you think she should be sitting in the kitchen with her hands folded just in case you two boys happen to drop in and need anything?'
Nils' sardonic murmur of 'Up the workers' came as Sean gave Bobbie's shoulders another squeeze. 'Come on, calm down, old thing,' his voice coaxed softly. 'We're not slave-drivers as well, you know.'
Bobbie blushed faintly. 'I'm sorry if I sounded as if I was waving the Red Flag,' she admitted, 'but you did sound rather autocratic just for a moment.'
'Well, now we've found one living, breathing mortal,' Nils murmured, 'and if the union will permit it, how about coming and having your strong drink with us in the library?' and he glanced meaningfully at the glass of milk she was carrying.
Bobbie couldn't help smiling. 'All right. So long as you don't lace it with whisky or something equally horrible,' she said, and accompanied them down the corridor and into the comfortable library.
It was not a room much used by the members of the household, and Bobbie thought this was rather a pity. The book-lined shelves, the contents of which looked as if they had actually been read, gave the room a warm and homely appearance. To her books were friends, things to be handled with care and treated with respect. She could not imagine a world where people never read the written word and going over to the wall she began to run her finger down some of the titles.
As she did so she let out an exclamation of surprise. 'How marvellous! Somebody seems to have collected all the Ambrose Abbott books. Is one of you an addict?' she asked, and looked over her shoulder.
Both the twins, she noticed, were smiling, and smiling in a rather special way. She wrinkled her brow, trying to assess their expressions, but Nils at that moment turned away and going over to the cabinet began to pour drinks for himself and his brother.
Bobbie turned back to the shelves. 'And here's a new one even I haven't read,' she said. 'Do you think I could borrow it?'
'By all means,' Sean replied. 'Help yourself.'
Bobbie slid it out of the bookshelf and walking over to the settee, sat down turning the pages at random. 'You still haven't told me who collects these. Is it your mother?'
'In a way it is, or perhaps it's Harry, or it might even be Dad,' Sean said. And looking up Bobbie noticed that he glanced sideways at his twin.
'Oh, come on. You're having me on again,' said Bobbie. 'Someone in the house must buy them. Every one he's written is there, as far as I can see.'
'I expect it's Harry. He's the reader in the house.' Nils had lost interest in the subject.
'Well, why doesn't he keep them in his own room? He has a vast bookshelf there.'
'But mostly reference books, as you've probably noticed,' Nils said as he came back and handed a glass to his brother. 'Wouldn't want to be cluttering up his shelves with detective trash.'
'But it's detective trash with a difference and a good deal of distinction,' Bobbie protested. 'I consider Ambrose Abbott to be the new Agatha Christie, if you can put it that way. Oh, I know he hasn't got around to anything like her vast output; she's been going for years and years, and though I've never read his biography I get the impression that he's still a young man.'
Sean chuckled. 'You may be right. I must say I read a book for the book itself; when I do read, that is. I don't sit around puzzling my brains as to the writer's personality. It doesn't matter to me if he's cross-eyed, bald-headed and as old as Methuselah as long as he writes a rattling good story.'
'Oh, you!' Bobbie exclaimed in protest. 'You've got no soul, either of you. I'm not going to sit here any longer and be teased. I'm going to bed. I shall have a long day tomorrow because Harry was interrupted at a crucial moment today, and I don't suppose he'll think twice about trying to make up lost time in the morning.'
Sean and Nils bade her goodnight and she walked upstairs to her bedroom, the borrowed book tucked under her arm. But she had only read a couple of pages before her eyelids began to droop, and turning over she switched out the bedside lamp and settled down.
But her sleep, instead of being sound, was strangely unsettled. She had a curious dream in which Harry, chased by Marie Gibson, tried to get into a house, the doors of which were being guarded by his twin brothers. There was a face at one of the windows and in her dream she tried desperately to see who was locked inside the house. And then just as the dream faded and she woke up feeling oddly depressed, she realised that the face peering out of one of the windows was her own.
She sat up and put on the bedside light, glancing at the clock. It said four-fifteen. She put the light out again and lay back in the darkness. What a curious dream to have had! She wondered what part of her subconscious, what doings in the previous week had brought such a jumbled sequence of events into her nightmare, for nightmare it had been. She had not cared for the grim determination on the faces of Nils and Sean, as they had stood at the front door and stopped Harry from entering—or the equal determination on the face of Marie Gibson as she had chased him from window to door as he tried to get into the guarded house.
And why should it be herself who was the captive within? It made no sense at all, but then few dreams ever did.
When she went down in the morning she was feeling distinctly heavy-eyed but determined to disguise the fact from Harry when they met. But she soon found there was no need for pretence. After greeting him at the breakfast table she had seen he was in one of his more abstracted moods, when a question either received no reply at all, or he would reply to her completely at random, his mind obviously elsewhere. She decided therefore to get the car out and go to the public library, but when she mentioned this to Harry half an hour later he merely nodded, so that she wondered whether he had actually heard what her destination was to be.
Mabel smiled. 'No, it's likely he'll be in here shouting to know where you've got to. I'm glad you let me know, Miss Bobbie. Don't worry, I'll tell him if he asks.' And Bobbie set off, glad to escape into the fresh air.
It did not take her long to get to the public library and a helpful assistant there found her the references she wanted. She sat for half an hour or so taking notes, and then drove back, arriving in Charlton Heath by lunchtime. She went into the office to find Harry standing at his desk and fitting a couple of books on top of his personal belongings into a week-end case.
She stopped abruptly half-way down the room and raised her eyebrows. Harry looked up and grinned rather sheepishly as he met her eyes. 'There's been a slight change of plan since you went out. I've decided I'm a bit stale and I'm going off for the week-end. So until Monday morning your time's your own, dear girl.'
'Why the sudden decision?' Bobbie asked.
'Well, for one thing,' Harry said, 'I had a phone call from an old friend who wants me to spend the weekend shooting, and it seemed too good an opportunity to miss, all things considered. And then I recalled tomorrow's the day Mother's throwing the whole place open for the church fete. That clinched it! Wild horses wouldn't keep me here when that's on. I usually try and get away if I remember in time.'
'What's so terrible about a church fete?' Bobbie asked. 'I know they're a lot of hard work, but after all, the means justifies the end, surely.'
'Oh, I don't mind helping as a rule, but when it's on your own premises it can be a different matter,' said Harry. 'Last year it rained, if you remember, and Mother stupidly allowed people to come into the house. I forgot to lock this place up and Mabel found three of the old village dears happily going through my desk. I don't think after what she said to them they're likely to do it again this year. On the other hand, don't let's take any chances. Before you go off this afternoon, lock all the doors, and I think it might be an idea if you pull down the blinds, otherwise they'll be pressing their noses against the windows.'
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