Running Away

by Rosina Lesley

  Rubbing herself down slowly with an ancient teddy bear-coloured towel, she decided that James was probably too adroit to risk involvement with an employee. Which, in a place the size of this village, meant that she must have arrived like a gift from the patron saint of jaded businessmen. Disgusted, she threw the towel into a corner of the bathroom and stalked into the bedroom.

  In the end though, she thought, gazing out of the uncurtained window as she curled up under the duvet, it didn’t matter what his motives were. All that mattered to her was the fact that, after all this time, she was still behaving like a lovesick teenager and he was still only interested in an affair. She hadn’t learnt a thing in four years.

  Chapter Seven

  THE TELEPHONE WOKE HER the following morning. Snatching it up with a breathless ‘Hello,’ as she arrived at the desk, she was aware of acute disappointment on hearing Andrew Hamilton’s voice.

  ‘Hello, Andrew,’ she said, trying to sound bright and obviously failing dismally.

  ‘You sound miserable. Have you and my nephew been quarrelling again?’ Andrew asked.

  ‘I suppose so,’ sighed Catherine. ‘Didn’t he tell you? I assume he’s spoken to you or you wouldn’t be ringing me.’

  ‘Quite right, but he didn’t say anything other than you were here and had been trying to get hold of me.’

  ‘Yes. He said you were in London.’

  ‘I was. Got back last night. Does me a world of good. You ought to come with me sometime. Now, what did you want me for?’

  Catherine hesitated. She hadn’t thought about her original idea since last night, and now things had changed.

  ‘Can I come and talk to you, Andrew?’ she asked. ‘I think it might be better.’

  ‘I’ll come to you. About 11? I’ve got to come down to the shop for supplies this morning, so it’s no trouble.’

  ‘All right. I’ll see you then. Thanks, Andrew.’

  ‘Bye for now,’ he said cheerily and she heard a click as he rang off. Turning away from the desk, she sank into a chair and closed her eyes in despair. Now what was she going to do?

  Andrew arrived just before eleven o’clock, carrying a basket and a bunch of flowers.

  ‘The flowers are for you, my dear, and the basket for the shopping on my way back.’ He beamed and led the way to the kitchen. ‘Now, Henrietta had a pretty vase she kept under the sink, just right for these – do you ... Ah, good.’ He took it as Catherine handed it to him and then went to put out coffee mugs while he filled the vase at the sink.

  ‘So what did you want to talk to me about?’ He sat in one of the kitchen chairs, where James had sat two nights ago and Catherine suppressed a totally ridiculous surge of desolation.

  ‘Actually,’ she said, taking a deep breath and gazing studiously out of the kitchen window, ‘it’s changed a bit.’

  ‘What has?’ Andrew sounded brightly interested.

  ‘The situation.’ Catherine looked down at the mugs and reached for the coffee pot.

  ‘Yes?’ She heard him move a little impatiently.

  ‘You see,’ she said carefully, carrying the mugs to the table, ‘I had decided that if I made you an offer for the lease – a proper, sensible offer – I would feel better about staying.’

  ‘Could you afford that?’ Andrew looked at her shrewdly, with bird-bright eyes.

  Catherine explained about Felicity and the flat.

  ‘So why have you changed your mind?’ he asked. ‘Because you have, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Catherine coloured. ‘Well, I don’t know. I think I have.’

  ‘Because of James?’

  ‘Sort of.’ She sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Andrew. I know I upset you by running out like that last time, but I didn’t realise that you would take it so much to heart.’

  ‘Catherine,’ he said, reaching across the table to take her hand, ‘You have to understand that I lived my life feeling guilty because I felt I ruined your grandmother’s life. I know she said she was perfectly happy, but she never married me, did she? And then, you arrived, and it looked as though I was going to ruin your life too. Or rather,’ he gave her hand a squeeze and let it go, sitting back in his chair, ‘My nephew and I were going to ruin it between us.’ He sighed. ‘So you see, when you ran away, I felt it was my fault and selfishly took myself up to London to cheer myself up.’ He took a sip of coffee. ‘But it seems you make a habit of running away, from what James tells me.’

  ‘Oh?’ Catherine sat up straight, very much on her dignity. ‘And just what has he been saying?’

  ‘Very little, except that you run away from problems. I rather thought that meant problems caused by him.’

  Catherine subsided again. ‘I expect he’s right. I ran at first, anyway.’

  ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ Andrew asked gently.

  ‘There isn’t much.’ Catherine tried a watery smile. ‘He was married, we were thrown together socially, I fell for him and he kissed me a few times. I was scared of getting involved – I’d read too much into it, of course – so I sold up and bought Felicity and I a flat near her college. I hadn’t seen him since then, until I bumped into him last week.’

  Andrew was silent for a little, then said, ‘There must have been more in it than a few kisses, to make you run off like that?’

  ‘We didn’t go to bed together, if that’s what you mean,’ said Catherine baldly. ‘I said, I made too much of it. He appeared to be – well, not pursuing me, exactly, but over interested – fascinated. And I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and when we were together the second time ...’ She paused, blushing. ‘Well, it was almost as though he couldn’t help himself, and I knew I couldn’t withstand him for long, so I went.’

  ‘And it wasn’t until now that you knew about Diana?’

  ‘Not until last weekend when I went home. I thought he was still married to her.’ Catherine stared down into her mug. ‘I never even knew anything was wrong between them when we lived in the same town.’

  After a short silence, Andrew gave a small chuckle. ‘Like history repeating itself, really, isn’t it?’

  Catherine looked up swiftly. ‘That’s exactly how I felt the night you told me your story. Oh, I know there are lots of differences, but while you were telling me, James was sitting there and I thought he was still married. And ...’ she stopped.

  ‘And what?’ he prompted.

  ‘Well, you really loved Henrietta and wanted her to marry you.’ Catherine muttered.

  ‘And it wasn’t like that for you and James?’

  ‘Not for James.’

  ‘Do you know that for certain?’ Andrew pressed.

  ‘He’s never said a word. He just can’t understand why I don’t leap into bed with him now I know he’s free,’ said Catherine bitterly. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Andrew, I know he’s your nephew. I shouldn’t have said that.’

  ‘Just because he’s my nephew doesn’t mean I’m not blind to his faults.’ Andrew smiled slightly. ‘He’s always gone after everything he wanted with a certain degree of singlemindedness and he’s got a definite streak of ruthlessness. But he’s honourable – and kind.’ Andrew paused. ‘Isn’t he?’

  ‘He was kind to me once.’ Catherine stared unseeingly into the middle distance.

  ‘Only once?’

  ‘When we were young. He was very kind when our father died. But everybody was.’

  ‘I suppose he’s not the sort of person who one thinks of as kind, is he?’ mused Andrew. ‘But he is. When I asked him to take over the management of the estate he refused to rationalise by rehousing existing tenants, and he has done all sorts of things that I never thought to do – repairs, pensions ... And he offered all the jobs that were going to be available to the families of the tenants and the staff I had already. He’s sent some of them on training schemes to London, and others he’s had trained professionally here. He is kind, even though he may not appear so.’

  Catherine dropped her eyes. ‘I thought the village was against
him. I kept hearing mutterings about the new owner. Mrs Beddowes at the shop tried to get out of me what I knew about his plans when I first bumped into him.’

  Andrew laughed. ‘Oh, there was – still is – a lot of muttering. Life in this village hasn’t changed for years and most of the older people are constitutionally resistant to change, but if you ask any of the tenants, or James’s employees, they’ll all tell you what a good employer he is. He was kind to Diana too.’

  ‘Was he?’ Catherine took a painful breath.

  ‘They married quite young, and I always got the idea that they drifted into it. Then, of course, Diana didn’t want children–’

  ‘Like your wife,’ commented Catherine.

  Andrew nodded. ‘Exactly. But James didn’t push. He was far too busy with the business. And that,’ said Andrew with a sigh, ‘was really what put an end to the marriage.’

  ‘James being too busy?’

  ‘Yes. Diana, who had never been that much in love with him anyway, to my mind, got bored. So she began seeing other men. Oh, it was very discreet at first, and she never did it on her own doorstep, as they say, but James soon found out. That was when he began to devote more time to social pursuits, hoping that if they did more together it would save the marriage.’

  ‘Like the pageant?’

  ‘The pageant?’ Andrew looked puzzled.

  ‘We did a historical pageant, about four years ago. That was when ...’ Catherine’s voice faltered.

  ‘Ah. No, I didn’t know about that. But that was about the time that the real cracks began to show. They separated about three years ago. I believe Diana is thinking of getting married again now.’

  ‘I saw her last weekend with a man called Colin Eddington,’ volunteered Catherine.

  ‘What?’ Andrew almost bounced out of his chair. ‘Eddington Electronics?’

  ‘So I was told.’ Catherine frowned. ‘Why? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Diana holds a large block of shares in Concept, that’s what’s wrong.’ Andrew pushed his chair back and stood up to pace agitatedly round the kitchen.

  ‘Oh.’ Catherine was beginning to see. ‘Do you think that she would – er – well, do anything awful?’

  ‘She’ll range them on the side of Eddington and they’ll get hold of whatever else they can and buy us out.’ Suddenly, despite his anger, Andrew looked ten years younger.

  ‘I must tell James about this. You didn’t, did you?’ He came to stand over Catherine.

  ‘No, it didn’t come into our conversation,’ said Catherine, rather dryly.

  ‘Oh, dear, of course it wouldn’t.’ Andrew sat down again. ‘I am sorry, Catherine. We were talking about you, weren’t we?’

  ‘Yes, but my emotional problems aren’t as important as this.’ Catherine smiled at him.

  ‘Of course they are. It’s your life we’re talking about, and whether you’ve still got your home. In fact, it’s all tied together really, isn’t it? James is the reason you don’t feel you can stay here, because you don’t think he feels the same about you as you feel about him, and Concept is still a very big part of James, and Diana looks as though she’s going to upset the applecart for everybody.’ Andrew stood up and picked up his basket. ‘I’m going shopping, then I shall go and call on James. Don’t you do anything hasty, young woman. You’re altogether too volatile and liable to act on a whim. Think things through, plan ahead. Wait until you’ve got all the facts. You used to work for a building society, I’m told, so you should know all these things.’

  ‘It’s different trying to apply those rules to real life,’ Catherine sighed.

  ‘I know, my dear.’ Andrew turned from the front door and patted her arm. ‘And you’ve lost people dear to you – three times now – and you don’t want to be hurt any more, do you? But don’t make the mistake of cutting yourself off just so that you won’t get hurt. You might be doing exactly the wrong thing.’ Andrew opened the door and went out. ‘Thank you for the coffee and just wait until you hear from me.’

  ‘Not James?’

  ‘Oh, I expect you’ll hear from him too, but don’t do anything until you hear from me. Understand?’ And with a jaunty wave, he was gone.

  Catherine found that she felt considerably more cheerful after Andrew’s departure. At least the decision of whether to leave the cottage or not had been deferred, and certainly her unwitting piece of information had given Andrew a new lease of life. Carrying his vase of flowers, she went into the living room and switched on her computer.

  The telephone rang a couple of hours later, when Catherine was just beginning to think about lunch.

  ‘Catherine?’ It was Andrew, his voice fairly humming down the line.

  ‘Yes, Andrew?’

  ‘I’ve just spoken to James about Diana and Eddington and he didn’t know anything about it either. He’s just spoken to the legal department at Concept and he thinks he’s going to have to go down there for a while until he can get it all sorted out.’

  ‘Oh.’ Catherine was aware of a mixture of relief and disappointment.

  ‘So he won’t be around to cloud your judgement or upset you, so you can stay put and pull yourself together for a little while longer.’

  ‘Yes, I see. Thank you, Andrew.’

  ‘Oh, and he was very grateful to you.’

  ‘Was he?’ Catherine’s tone was wry.

  ‘Yes, of course. Unless you’d mentioned it, he might not have found out until it was too late, then he would – we would – have lost Concept. And that would mean we might have lost this place.’

  ‘Oh.’ Catherine was shocked. ‘I didn’t realise ... You mean Cranmore Hall? The whole estate?’

  ‘Yes, I do. Concept funds the whole organisation up here. How do you think James has managed to institute all these changes?’

  ‘I didn’t think about it.’

  ‘No, of course you wouldn’t.’ Andrew’s voice softened. ‘There’s no earthly reason why you should, is there? But that’s how it is, so you see how grateful we both are to you.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I suppose I do.’ Catherine was thoughtful. ‘Well, thank you for letting me know, Andrew. Keep me posted, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course, dear girl. I tell you what, let’s have dinner together – tomorrow night?’

  ‘Would you like to come here?’ Catherine smiled.

  ‘No – I’ll take you to the Hall. James took you there last night, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, he did. But I haven’t got anything else smart enough to wear.’

  ‘Don’t worry. We’ll have a private room. I’ll call for you about 7.30 p.m., all right?’

  ‘All right, Andrew, and thank you.’

  Catherine replaced the receiver and gazed out of the window. Now there was an even further complication in her relationship with James. What if he was so grateful to her he felt under compulsion to lay siege to her defences with renewed fervour? No. She shook her head impatiently, he wouldn’t do that. His amorous advances to her had been for his own gratification, not hers, he wouldn’t offer those as a token of his gratitude. No, what would be more likely would be his graceful withdrawal. He could easily take the situation for an ‘I’ve done this for you – now leave me alone’ ploy. Or, worse, and she felt embarrassment crawling over her skin at the very thought, he might think she was trying to worm her way into his good books, that he might now offer marriage. He might put two and two together and think that was what she had been holding out for all the time. The terrible thing was, it was almost true.

  Catherine spent the afternoon in an agony of indecision. It was all very well for Andrew to say do nothing, but she seemed unwittingly to have complicated her own situation even further with no foreseeable resolution. She supposed she would just have to wait and see what happened when and if she next saw James. She couldn’t even wish that she hadn’t been home to Felicity, for if she hadn’t, Andrew and James could well have lost both the electronics company and the Hall, although she did wonder why, because surely if
Eddington’s managed to take over Concept they would have to pay for it. Wouldn’t that be enough to keep the Hall going? It was all beyond her, thought Catherine gloomily.

  When the telephone rang for the third time that day, Catherine was just about to give up trying to write and have some supper.

  ‘Catherine?’

  ‘James.’ Her voice stuck in her throat and she sat down suddenly.

  ‘I have to go away tomorrow. Could I come and see you tonight? It won’t take long.’ His tone was distant, formal.

  ‘Yes, if you want to.’ Catherine cleared her throat. ‘What sort of time?’

  ‘Could I come round now?’

  ‘Give me half an hour,’ said Catherine, surprised at how calm her voice sounded.

  ‘Half an hour. I’ll see you then.’ There was a click and the dialling tone.

  Catherine stood up and took a deep breath. Well, she wasn’t going to let him think that she’d made an effort for him, but she was certainly going to tidy herself up, even if it meant forgoing supper.

  When the doorbell rang it sounded like the last trump to Catherine. Her hair brushed, a little camouflaging make-up and a clean shirt had raised her morale slightly, but she still felt as though she was waiting to see the headmistress as she came downstairs.

  James stood outside the door, his head bent, hands thrust into the pockets of his linen trousers.

  ‘Hallo, James,’ she said coolly. ‘Come in.’

  He came in past her and she closed the door, indicating the open living room door.

  ‘Sit down,’ she said, following him in. ‘Would you like a drink?’