‘You could take my car,’ his mother offered, though in rather a doubtful voice. Her runabout was an elderly Mini that was used to being coaxed along.
Not surprisingly, Simon grimaced. ‘Thanks, Mum, but I don’t think I’ll risk it. I could be even worse off if the thing disintegrates on the motorway.’
‘There’s the estate car,’ their father suggested. ‘I reckon I can manage without it, provided you get it back here for next weekend.’
Simon shook his head hopelessly. ‘I’m on long haul now, so it’ll be at least ten days before I’m back in London.’
‘There’s no way we can manage without the truck or the Range Rover even for a day,’ Andrew put in apologetically. ‘So that only leaves the train.’
‘And we all know what the Sunday service is like!’ Simon groaned. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a timetable?’
Cathy shook her head. ‘No, but Martha has. She uses the train to visit her sister in Bedford. Simon, wait… What about Jay’s guests? They’ll almost certainly be going back to London today, and one of them might be willing to give you a lift.’
‘Mum, you’re a genius!’ Simon veered into the hall to the phone. A few minutes later he was back, beaming. ‘It’s all right. The Charlesworths are staying on to have lunch with the Frosts while they discuss the transportation of the horse they’re buying, but Jay and Philip are going back to London later this morning.’
‘That’s solved your problem of getting back today,’ Mirry said, wondering how Jay had received her brother’s request. ‘But how are you going to get your car back to London?’
‘Ah, that’s where having a sweet, generous, helpful little sister comes in,’ Simon grinned. ‘I was hoping you’d agree to drive it over to Turnberry’s in the morning to get the new tyre fitted, then bring it back to London for me, Mirry. You could—’
‘Simon… no!’ their mother broke in, horrified. ‘You can’t ask Mirry to drive that monster of yours, certainly not in London…’
‘Oh, Mum! Don’t be a spoilsport,’ Mirry wailed. So far Simon had only let her take the wheel of his precious Lotus very briefly, and she was dying for the chance to take it for a real run. ‘And anyway…’ her eyes danced with sly laughter ‘…I’m going to have nearly two weeks’ practice before I need return it.’
‘Why, you crafty little…’ Aware of his sister’s covetous designs on the Lotus, Simon grimaced. ‘I guess I walked right into that one. All right, you have my permission to use it while it’s in your possession,’ he conceded, and then, because his mother still looked worried, added, ‘If she drives it straight to Heathrow and leaves it in the staff car park, she won’t need to actually drive in London, Mum.’
‘But how will she get home again?’
‘Mum, I’m not helpless,’ Mirry said with exasperated affection. ‘I’m quite capable of getting the tube to St Pancras and catching the train home.’
‘She needn’t even do that, Mum. I’ll get someone to phone and let you know the time my flight gets in, then Mirry can meet me at the airport with the car and stay the night with me at the flat. Provided it’s not a late arrival, we can have a night out on the town, Mirry.’
She flung herself at him to give him a jubilant hug, her enthusiasm restraining any more maternal objections.
Mirry combined two errands the following morning, dropping Nick off for his speech therapy before taking the Lotus in for its new tyre, then picking Nick up again on her way home. At first she was a little nervous of all that power under the bonnet, but on the return journey her confidence increased, and it took little encouragement from Nick to put her foot down along the dual carriageway.
‘Wow! Eighty!’ Nick chortled, and with a return to sanity Mirry eased back on the throttle. If she got a speeding ticket her mother would never allow her to drive to London. But it was with a feeling of elation that she swished to a halt outside the Dower House, turning to grin at Nick. ‘Not a word about me breaking the speed limit,’ she warned.
But, in spite of having Simon’s car at her disposal and using it at the slightest excuse, Mirry found herself unusually restless that week. Where once Nick had taken up much of her time, he was working in the garden centre most of the day, and though she still participated in the daily work-out in the gym, he was perfectly capable of getting through his exercises unsupervised. Even chauffeuring him to and from his speech therapy sessions was something her mother could easily take over. And, although there were always jobs she could help with around the house, they didn’t occupy her mind, and it was something to occupy her mind she was becoming increasingly in need of, if only to stop it dwelling so often on the burgeoning romance between Jay and Annabel.
It was several days before Mirry would admit to herself that the root of her dissatisfaction was the memory of Jay’s contempt when, on the first day of their acquaintance, he had asked her what she did to justify her existence besides living off her parents. She had been indignant at the time, but maybe he had been justified in his contempt, she brooded while the comedy programme on the television played on before her unseeing gaze. With few of the advantages Mirry had been blessed with, Jay had nevertheless carved out a successful career for himself, judging by the respect Philip Amis and Alan Charlesworth had for his abilities. Maybe, if Mirry had been able to boast an exciting and fulfilling career, Jay might have had more respect for her.
Mirry straightened in her chair. Wishing wasn’t going to get her anywhere. It was high time she did something constructive with her life. The problem was… what? It was only spring now, so even if she was accepted back on to her university course it wouldn’t be until the autumn. And somehow the ambition to become an architect had dissipated these last two years, with nothing so far to take its place.
Her glance was drawn to the sofa where her parents sat together, catching them just at the moment when they turned to each other, sharing their laughter as they had shared everything else for the last forty years, and Mirry knew there was something she did want—a marriage just like theirs. A man to love who would love her in return, a man to share her life, the bad bits as well as the good. A man to make a home for, to bear his children, rear them in the same love and total security she herself had known.
She had day-dreamed before about the kind of man who could answer all her needs, but this time the usually nebulous dream man had a face, the dream children— two boys and a girl—laughed up at her with Jay’s silvery eyes…
Her mother’s voice shattered the dream and Mirry blinked to find the programme had finished and both parents looking at her questioningly. ‘I’m sorry, did you say something?’
‘Where were you, darling? I was beginning to think you’d fallen into a trance.’
Her mother’s question was teasing, but for just a moment Mirry felt her illicit thoughts had been blazoned across her face, and even more embarrassingly the colour began to rise in her cheeks.
Cathy Grey managed to restrain her curiosity and repeated the question that had elicited no response before. ‘I was only asking if you’d mind doing the supermarket run tomorrow. I need to go to the bank, so I can take Nick for his speech therapy.’
‘Sure, I don’t mind.’ Thursday was the day both the Dower House and the Hall restocked their larders, but as Jay was safely back in London there was no danger of running into him. Mirry squirmed inwardly, wondering how she would be able to look him in the face without remembering the pictures her wayward imagination had just been conjuring up.
‘You don’t think Martha might enjoy a ride in the Lotus?’ Mirry suggested mischievously the following morning as her father handed her the keys to the estate car.
‘If you could get her into that thing, I doubt it could accommodate all the shopping,’ her mother returned, amusement turning up the corners of her mouth. ‘She says she has a list as long as your arm.’
When Martha made exactly the same comment as she climbed into the estate car drawn up at the rear of the Hall, Mirry asked curiously,
‘I thought you were all set to retire, Martha. I mean, after Georgie died I got the impression that you didn’t fancy working for Jay Elphick.’
‘Yes… well… I thought that mother of his’d be queening it here, didn’t I?’ Martha settled her capacious handbag firmly on her lap as they set off. ‘But when he told me she lives in America now… And he did ask ever so nicely if I’d mind staying on a bit, just till he’s decided what he’s going to do about the house. Well, he won’t need me if he does decide to turn it into a hotel, will he?’
‘A hotel?’ Mirry’s foot slipped off the accelerator in shock. Yet shouldn’t she have guessed this was coming? Annabel had told her Jay was talking of selling, had even told her his weekend guests were prospective buyers. Even when Keir had mentioned all three men’s involvement with Alpha Hotels she had failed to make the connexion. Alpha Hotels, a name synonymous with luxury on a grand scale, all formerly large country houses very similar to Wenlow.
‘ ‘Course, he’s never actually told me,’ Martha went on. ‘But from little bits I happened to overhear…’ she shot a sharp glance at Mirry as if daring her to accuse her of eavesdropping ‘…and with those men going all over the place from the basement to the attics, well, I can put two and two together same as anybody.’
‘I’m sure you can, Martha,’ Mirry said hollowly. She still felt as if she’d been kicked in the solar plexus, because she had been counting on Jay at least giving her plans serious consideration. ‘So how do you feel about the idea, Martha?’
‘Me? Can’t say as I like it, but then I reckon I’m too old to fret over something I can’t change.’ The elderly housekeeper let out a gusty sigh. ‘Oh, I know as how Sir David was very keen for his son to carry on where he left off, even if the Jayston name had to die out. But, well…it’s not everybody’s idea of a home, a great house like that. And it’s not as if Mr Jay was brought up there, or had any attachment to the place, is it?’
Mirry was forced to agree. Far from having an attachment to Wenlow, Jay had already made it plain he felt only indifference towards the place and downright animosity towards the people, particularly his late father. And it was just possible that her own championing of David and Georgie had only hardened Jay’s resolve not to consider their wishes.
‘Sorry, Georgie,’ she said under her breath, slackening speed as they approached the town of Market Harborough. ‘I seem to have done more harm than good.’
‘Did you say something?’ Martha asked.
‘Just that there’s no space along here,’ Mirry prevaricated, indicating the cars parked nose to the pavement along the edge of the wide High Street.
‘Too far back here,’ was Martha’s opinion, going on at length about her aches and pains while Mirry waited at the traffic lights to turn right into the big car park that had the supermarket on one side and the river Welland on the other.
‘Seems to have done very well for himself. Mr Jay, I mean.’ They were almost home again, the car weighed down much more heavily than when they had set out, when Martha returned to the subject of the new master of Wenlow. ‘Pity his father lost touch with him. He’d have been right proud of what the lad’s made of himself, in spite of that mother of his.’
And would presumably do even better for himself out of the sale of Wenlow, Mirry thought. Not that she begrudged him that. David might have wanted his son to take his rightful place in the Wenlow community but, after all, Jay’s work and his home, the life he had built for himself, was in London. And, if he was going to disappear back there after the house was sold, maybe that would be best for them all, certainly for herself. So why did the thought make her feel so depressed?
‘That’s his car!’ Martha exclaimed as they turned into the drive, and Mirry’s stomach lurched as she too spotted the black Jaguar by the front door. ‘Now, how was I to know he was coming back this morning?’ Martha fretted as Mirry drove round the rear of the house. ‘There’s no lunch ready and only that Letty Skirling in the house, dabbing around with a duster.’ She was out of the car as soon as it stopped, and through the kitchen door at a trot, leaving Mirry to do the unloading.
Once more she felt that curl of unease as she stepped into the house she had once known as well as her own but where she knew she was no longer welcome. The kitchen was empty, Martha no doubt having gone in search of her boss to explain her absence. With luck, Mirry decided, she could have all the stuff unloaded and be away before Jay even knew she had crossed his threshold. But even as she hefted the heavy box on to the scrubbed table the baize door opened and Martha came in, still apologising to the man who followed her.
‘There’s really no hurry, Mrs Barks.’ Jay tried to stop the flow. ‘I have an appointment in Leicester this afternoon, but not until—’ He broke off. ‘Mirry!’
‘I can soon rustle up a bit of lunch.’ Martha pounced on the box. ‘Is this the one with the gammon in, Mirry?’
Mirry, who had frozen to the spot like a wild creature scenting danger, saw the frown gathering on Jay’s brow. ‘Er…no. That’s in the one with the meat for the freezer. I’ll get it.’
Not even when she was doing his housekeeper a favour was he prepared to hide his dislike, she thought, needled by the injustice. Well, sucks to you, mister! There was a militant sparkle in her dark eyes as she staggered back into the kitchen under another load, a load which was snatched out of her arms so abruptly, she staggered.
‘Are there any more?’ Jay demanded tersely, the frown still drawing his brows together as he dumped the box on the table for Martha to delve into eagerly.
‘Three more,’ Mirry challenged before marching out again, only to find Jay dogging her heels. As if seeing her off the premises, she thought, and whirled on him angrily. ‘Look, if you object so strongly to any of us Greys darkening your doorstep, it’s up to you to make alternative arrangements for Martha to do her shopping. As long as you realise there’s no way she can get to a supermarket unless someone takes her.’
Something flickered in Jay’s silvery eyes. It might have been discomfiture, except Mirry thought it unlikely, especially when he went onto suggest, ‘Aren’t you exaggerating, Mirry?’
She ground her teeth in disbelief when she recalled some of the things he had said about her family, but before she could find her voice he went on, ‘Simon didn’t complain about his welcome when he came in for coffee before we set off for London.’
‘Well, maybe it’s just me you object to, then,’ Mirry retorted. ‘If looks could have killed when you found me in your kitchen…’
‘I was annoyed when I saw what you were up to,’ he admitted coolly, then took the wind out of her sails when he added, ‘Neither you nor Martha should be lifting those loads about. I thought it was one of the advantages of living in the country, having the local tradesmen deliver.’
Mirry was surprised into rueful laughter. ‘You are behind the times! Local tradesmen are an extinct species, put out of business by the supermarkets, and as we have no buses either, we’re dependent on each other out here.’
Jay made no comment. Instead, peering under the tailgate at all the boxes of groceries still in the car, he said, ‘I thought there were only three more.’
‘There are.’ Mirry leaned in to drag them forward. ‘The rest are ours and Helen Dutton’s.’ Picking up the smaller one herself, she set off back to the kitchen.
‘About another ten minutes, Mr Jay,’ Martha said.
‘Fine,’ Jay responded, and followed Mirry out to the car again. He lifted out the final box and she closed the tailgate, but as she moved to open the driver’s door a hand on her arm detained her. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m glad I’ve seen you.’
She looked up at him, her expression turning to incredulity when he asked, ‘Why didn’t you tell me it was you who drew up those conversion plans?’
‘I should have thought that was obvious. If you’d had the slightest suspicion I had anything to do with it, you’d have turned the idea down out of hand.’ She watched the touch of co
lour run over his cheekbones. ‘Anyway, how did you know?’
‘I can read,’ he derided. ‘Your name was at the bottom. So where did you learn to do such a workmanlike job?’
Mirry had forgotten, and cursed herself for the vanity that had prompted her to label her work. ‘I’d completed two years as a student of architecture when I came home to help Nick,’ she said with a challenging lift of her chin, and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen.
‘I see. So are you going to finish your training?’
‘I might.’ It was pleasant to have disconcerted him, if only in a small way. ‘But then again, I might decide to get a job. Because even though I have a small income of my own and don’t have to live off my parents…’ she offered up a prayer of thanks to the young girl she couldn’t even remember but whose death and subsequent insurance pay-out made it possible for her to refute that accusation ‘…it would still be another five years before I could begin to earn my living as an architect.’
Her gibe bounced off his thick skin. ‘What kind of job?’
Mirry shrugged and slid into the driving seat. ‘Maybe converting houses into flats.’ She couldn’t resist the tongue-in-cheek suggestion.
‘You have enough experience to tackle such work?’ He looked sceptical.
Well, hadn’t she known all along he would doubt her capabilities? With deliberate insouciance she said, ‘Nothing to it. Converting Wenlow would be perfectly straightforward, no actual structural alterations. And if I should be faced with a more complex job, then naturally I’d employ a qualified architect,’ she finished grandly. Not allowing him time to challenge her, she powered on, ‘Anyway, what does it matter to you whether I could do the job or not? You’re selling Wenlow, turning it into a hotel.’ Seeing that as a good exit line, Mirry reached across to pull the car door closed.
But Jay made no attempt to move, his eyes narrowing. ‘Who told you that?’ he snapped.
There was no way Mirry was going to get Martha into trouble, even if it meant claiming to be smarter than she was. ‘No one told me. Annabel was concerned because you were talking of selling the house, and your weekend guests just happen to run a chain of country house hotels. Just because we live in the country,’ she finished with gentle malice, ‘doesn’t mean we can’t add two and two together.’
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