'Sure, but only as a means to an end. Lots of rich men in accountancy firms. But if I could snare one right now, it would save a lot of trouble. I needn't bother with the exams.'
'Is that your ambition, to marry a rich man? What's happened to the independent career girl?'
Kate looked superior and shook her head.
'Old hat. The previous generation of women had the worst of all worlds. They had to work, to have careers, to be independent, to farm out the kids for other people to look after, and still earned no respect. I'm not falling into that trap. I want to paint, and while I'm doing it, I want to live in luxury. No scraping a living by day and being too tired to be creative at night. A man, a rich one, can give me that freedom. And if he's older, I'll be a rich widow all the sooner,' she added, grinning.
'Don't you want to – well, to fall in love?' Lucy asked, curious. She was only five years older than Kate, but she seemed a different generation. Either that or she was old-fashioned.
'Look where that got you!' Kate said sharply, retrieving her toast and piling butter onto it.
She didn't want to agree, but she suspected Kate was right. At least about her. She'd fallen hard for Karl when she was just seventeen. When he'd asked her to marry him she was over the moon. As lead guitarist in a popular group he had all the girls languishing after him. She had no idea why he picked her out of the dozens of girls who'd happily have slaved for him. She'd have married him straight away but her mother persuaded her to carry on with her course at college, training as a hairdresser. She had been right.
Karl spent lavishly, bought a luxury apartment in Docklands when he'd signed his first lucrative deal, and they ate out at expensive restaurants. At first he'd often hand her a wad of notes and tell her to get some clothes, but later, when it came to paying for her clothes or food and basic housekeeping, he never had cash to spare. She'd been too naive, too much in love in the beginning, to demand a fixed allowance, and later when she mentioned it he'd laughed at the idea and said she was becoming boring and provincial. She was thankful she'd been able to earn a living when that became essential. Whatever Karl earned in the last couple of years he'd spent on drink and drugs and other women.
In a forlorn attempt to keep her marriage alive she'd gone with him to gigs and the parties which followed. They had been the final humiliation, when he'd mocked her for her prudery, as he called it, and flaunted young girls before her, openly caressing them, undressing them, and once, before she could walk out, having sex with one of them on a bar counter, cheered on by the rest of the group and the screaming fans.
That had been the end for Lucy. She'd left, and instead of going to the hotel they were all staying at, she'd found another. Karl and half of the group, high on drink and drugs, had decided to head straight back to London. Instead they'd headed through the parapet of a bridge over a deep, rock-strewn river. The only one to be dragged out alive was permanently paralysed and brain-damaged.
'I'm sorry,' Kate said softly. 'I shouldn't have reminded you. Not every man's evil. Here, have some more coffee.'
Lucy waved away the proffered coffee pot. If she needed consolation she'd open a bottle of wine. Not at breakfast, though.
'That's all over. Tell me more about your plans. Why accountants? I thought it was men in the City who made the really big money.'
'Some, the traders and bankers. Oh, I looked into all the possibilities. But City types, if they're going to be successful, have to put two hundred percent into their careers. They've no time for wives, and many of them are burned out by thirty. Then there's advertising, or the media, but that's too chancy, and many of the firms are so small there wouldn't be much choice.'
The sheer confidence of her little sister amazed Lucy. 'I see. You assume you'd have your pick?'
Kate was pretty, she freely admitted, even with her face smeared with marmalade, but some of it was the freshness of youth. Was she beautiful? Lucy couldn't decide. She was too afraid of being partial. Kate, like her, had inherited their mother's bone structure, with the wide brow and high cheekbones, though she was much prettier than Lucy was, but she wasn't, she decided as dispassionately as she could, a raving beauty.
Kate seemed to read her mind. 'It isn't looks that capture a man,' she said with a slight laugh. 'It's fifty percent personality and fifty percent guile.'
'At least you can add up to a hundred percent this time!' Lucy snapped. 'Promising, in a prospective accountant! Kate, don't get trapped like I did. You'd be better off single and free than married and miserable.'
'I won't be trapped,' Kate began, when they were interrupted by the door chimes. This time, Lucy noticed, they played 'Home Sweet Home'. Kate chuckled. 'I'll go.'
To her horror Lucy heard the acerbic tones of Miss Flora Brown, coming nearer as she approached the kitchen. Yesterday's dishes were still piled in the sink. The laundry was draped over an airer, she'd been too lazy to hang it outside. The table still had the wine stain, and was covered with toast crumbs and marmalade drips. She leapt to her feet and tried to divert them into the sitting room, but she was too late. Miss Brown was ahead of Kate and swept into the kitchen, brushing her out of the way.
'Good morning. I said I'd call. Actually I came to escort you to church. You might feel better if you know someone there. Good heavens, haven't you finished breakfast yet? Is your clock slow?'
'Sorry, that's awfully kind of you, but we're not able to go this week,' Kate interrupted. 'Lucy has to drive me back to college. I've almost finished term, you know, and she's going to bring back some of my stuff. And if we don't get a move on, she'll be driving back in the dark, and she hates that. So thank you, but do excuse us this time. Aren't those the bells I can hear? You mustn't make yourself late because of us.'
'I will come another time, when it might be more convenient,' Miss Brown said, taking a comprehensive glance round the room, sniffing at the untidiness, and retreating with her nose in the air.
Kate followed close behind, gesturing to Lucy to remain where she was. When she returned to the kitchen she was torn between laughter and indignation.
'That dreadful old witch! Now you'll have to drive me to college, or she'll never forgive you. And it would help. I do have an awful lot of stuff, that was true.'
*
It was dusk when Lucy got home and parked the van in the driveway. The cottage seemed bleak without Kate, and she went round putting on lights, and wondering whether it was too late to light a log fire in the sitting room. She hadn't cleared up in the kitchen before they'd set off that morning, but she was too tired to bother. Tomorrow she'd have a blitz.
She'd enjoy having Kate living here. But she was concerned at her sister's cold-blooded attitude towards men. She'd be hurt, she knew she would. Maybe, she dreamed, Kate would meet someone she could love who could also give her the security she craved.
She was wondering what she might do about it when there was a fierce knocking on the kitchen door. Hesitantly Lucy went into the kitchen, wishing she'd drawn the curtains. She felt too exposed and vulnerable to whoever was outside, able to see her but invisible themselves. Then a familiar voice spoke.
'Lucy? Let me in. I need to use your phone.'
'Doc? What is it?' She struggled with the bolts, and as soon as they were drawn he was opening the door from outside. 'Doc, what's the matter?'
Two collies erupted into the room. They were slender young dogs, boisterous and friendly, and she stepped back to give them room as they frolicked round her.
'I must phone for an ambulance, and I don't have my mobile with me. I was walking the dogs along the lane and – Lucy, this is bad. I found Miss Brown. She's been attacked, or run over by a car, and she's badly injured.'
*
'Get some blankets and a pillow, can you?' he said as he dialled.
Lucy rushed upstairs. She didn't have blankets, but she pulled the duvet and pillow off Kate's bed. When she got back he was pushing the collies into the living room, shutting the door on them.
'Why can't you bring her here?' she gasped as he grabbed the duvet and ran out of the kitchen. She struggled after him, following the dancing light from his torch as he ran down the driveway.
'May have broken bones,' he flung back over his shoulder. 'It looked as if she'd been hit by a car. Robert was out, so I've phoned for Flick to come. She can go in the ambulance, she knows Miss Brown and can tell them what they need to know.'
Miss Brown was lying on the grass verge a few yards away from the junction with the main road, between Lucy's drive and Jeff Bryant's. Doc, as tenderly as if he really were a medic, was lifting her head onto the pillow. Then he spread the duvet over her, tucking it in as much as he could without disturbing her. The moon had come up fully now, and she looked small and pathetic.
'Have you been out this evening?' he asked as they stood there waiting.
'I took Kate back to college. I'd only been back a few minutes before you came knocking on the door.'
'You didn't see her as you drove in?'
Lucy shook her head. 'No, but the headlights would have been shining on the far side of the road. It's too close to the junction to show up this side when you turn in from the town direction.'
'Were you expecting her to visit you?'
She almost said she hoped not, then recalled the poor woman lying at her feet. 'No. She came along this morning to take us to church, but we didn't go, I was driving Kate back to college. Why?'
'I don't understand it. Why would she be here? She'd passed Bryant's driveway, and there's only your house and the farm along here. People rarely use this lane, as it only swings round to rejoin the main road a mile further on, and it's rather a rough surface past the farm. Why would anyone be driving along it?'
It sounded as though he was blaming Lucy for knocking her over. 'How long do you reckon she's been here?' she asked.
'Her skin felt very cold. Quite a while, I suspect.'
There was a brief silence. Lucy thought of something else. 'Why were you here with the dogs?'
'It's an easy walk, no traffic – usually – apart from your and Jeff's cars, and I knew there was no one likely to be visiting the farm at this time. They need a run on hard ground, not always on the fields.'
'Oh,' she said. This was new to her, but then she'd never owned a dog. Perhaps she ought to get one. At least it would warn her of incursions by llamas. Then the sense of his words penetrated. 'How do you know no one will visit the farm?'
He glanced at her in surprise. 'Didn't you know? It's my farm, and I wasn't expecting anyone.'
'Your farm? Then you're Flick's brother? But your names are different.' And she always called him Cas, not Doc.
'Half brother. After Dad died my mother married again. They live in London but Flick has always preferred the farm, she came here to live soon after I came back to take over from the Trustees. Any more questions? Ah, this looks like the ambulance.'
As the ambulance, lights flashing, turned into the lane Flick came racing towards them. She gave Lucy a brief smile and then bent to look at Miss Brown.
'Stand back, please, miss,' one of the medics said as he knelt beside the old woman.
They eased her onto a stretcher, lifted her into the ambulance, and Flick scrambled in after them. The driver backed into Jeff's driveway, and went off, leaving Lucy standing with Doc, owner of llamas and alpacas, who was planning to flood the butchers' shops of England with foreign meat from exotic animals.
'Now,' he said, 'let's see what we can make of this.'
*
She picked up the pillow. They'd taken the duvet, and briefly she wondered if she'd get it back. They walked slowly to the cottage. Doc paused as they passed the van, and played the light over the front of it. So he thought she'd knocked the woman over, did he? He wasn't such a paragon after all.
'I think I'd have felt the bump if I'd hit her,' Lucy said, trying to sound sarcastic instead of defensive.
'Of course,' he said, as though speaking to a child, and she felt even more stupid. 'It's a habit I have, checking the registrations of people I know. For some reason I can remember car and phone numbers. Can I ring Bryant?' he added as they opened the door to the kitchen.
She began to say yes, but her voice was lost in the mad barking from her sitting room.
'Sorry, I'd best let them out. They know I'm here and won't shut up until they see me. They haven't been properly trained yet.'
The collies bounced round him, acting as though they'd been left for a year or so and had never expected to be reunited with their master.
'Sit!' he said suddenly, and to her surprise both dogs promptly sat, tongues lolling, gazing adoringly at him. That seemed pretty good training to Lucy.
He went to the phone and pushed the buttons. It was answered at once, and Doc briefly explained what had happened. Then he turned to Lucy.
'Do you mind if Bryant comes here? We need to compare notes.'
She glanced at her watch. It was almost ten. 'I'll make some coffee.' What would dear Kate say if she knew she was entertaining not just one, but two men at this time of night? And one of them the heart-stopping, gorgeous Doc. She couldn't help wishing Jeff Bryant wasn't coming. It would have been so cosy with just Doc, and she might have found out more about him.
Doc put down the phone and pulled a chair out from the table. When she'd switched the kettle on she remembered a packet of chocolate digestives she'd stashed away in a high cupboard out of Kate's reach. If her sister had set eyes on them they wouldn't have lasted an hour.
She dragged another chair across and climbed up, then had to duck as she opened the cupboard door. She always forgot to stretch up and open it first, before she was on a level with it. The biscuits were right at the back, and Lucy scrabbled around for them. She had just grabbed hold of them, when the chair slipped, and she suddenly found herself clutched to Doc's manly chest, and hitting him over the head with the biscuits.
'Not a very effective weapon,' an amused voice at the kitchen door said.
Doc put her down, rubbed his head, and Jeff bent down to rescue the biscuits she'd dropped.
'Second time,' Doc muttered to Lucy. 'It's fortunate I have a thick skull.'
He didn't sound annoyed, and he threw her a smile that had her dismissing all her doubts and beginning to hope once more. His mouth turned up at the corners, and there was something in his eyes that set her rather mobile insides quivering. It could have been amusement, but it had a more serious element. Was it puzzlement? She tried to breathe normally, and turned to pay attention to Jeff.
'Chocolate digestive crumbs, I think,' he was saying. 'Do you have some kind of bowl I could decant them into, Lucy? That is, if you were planning to offer them to me.'
Her face was burning. She tipped the apples out of the fruit bowl, gave it a quick wipe with the tea towel, and handed it to Jeff who was trying to work out how to open the biscuits. She turned to deal with the kettle but Doc was already spooning instant coffee into mugs, which he seemed to have washed, retrieved from the collection in the sink.
'Sit down, Lucy, out of danger,' Doc said as he carried the mugs over to the table and went to fetch milk from the fridge. He was grinning, and the odd look in his eyes had vanished, but she couldn't decide if it was amusement with her, or against her ineptitude.
Jeff was swearing mildly at the complexity of the packaging, but eventually he found the little tab and biscuit bits and crumbs showered over the table, though at least half of them found their way into the bowl. Doc grinned and opened a drawer, and fished out some spoons. How had he known which was the cutlery drawer? He was too darned efficient in a kitchen, showing up her own inadequacies. Next he found plates, handed them and spoons round, and sat down facing Lucy.
'Now let's talk. Jeff, you say Miss Brown wasn't coming to visit you?'
Jeff grinned as he scooped up a spoonful of biscuit bits.
'Is it like
ly? I got cheesed off with her constantly trying to get me to join things. She hasn't set foot in my cottage since I hinted to her I was a convicted rapist on the sex offenders' register. She certainly wouldn't have been coming to see me at any time, let alone late at night.'
Doc laughed. 'And Lucy says she didn't expect her, neither did I. So what was she doing in the lane?'
'More to the point, why was there a car coming up it? It's not a short cut. I suppose it might have been a stranger who got lost, but why would they turn off the main road?'
'Hoping to find a way back if they were lost? Were you in all day? Did you hear anything?'
Jeff shook his head. 'I've been in since about three, but tonight I had some loud music playing. I didn't hear any cars. I saw Lucy going off this morning, but I didn't hear her come back.'
'Could she have been coming to the farm?' Lucy put in. 'You said you weren't expecting her, but from what I've seen of her she doesn't bother to announce her visits.'
Doc shook his head. 'If she wants me she rings my mobile. Some idiot gave her the number, so she knows she can normally get hold of me at any time, worse luck. If, for any reason, she was coming to the farm she'd have rung to make sure I'd be in.'
'You didn't have your mobile with you.'
'But I did at the time she would have left her house. I was still at the farm. It's quite a walk for her to get here.'
They tossed around ideas for another half hour, but the suggestions got wilder and more unlikely. By the time they had eaten all the biscuits, wetting their fingers to pick up bits from the table, they decided there was no point in playing guessing games.
'I'll let you know how she is tomorrow,' Doc said as he rose to go. The collies, who had been sitting adoringly at his feet, begging unsuccessfully for biscuits, leapt up and headed for the door. Ungrateful beasts. They seemed to have forgotten the bits of biscuit Lucy had accidentally on purpose dropped on the floor and kicked in their direction. At least they'd had the sense to pick them up on the sly, not letting Doc see them. Collies were intelligent, even if not grateful.
Mating the Llama Page 5