Next Door to Romance
By
Margaret Malcolm
Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
OTHER
Harlequin Romances
by
MARGARET MALCOLM
923—KIT CAVENDISH — PRIVATE NURSE
1028—THE MASTER OF NORMANHURST
1084—GALLEON HOUSE
1098—THE UNCHARTED OCEAN
1164—MEADOWSWEET
1199—JOHNNY NEXT DOOR
1255—LITTLE SAVAGE
1287—THE WALLED GARDEN
1316—CAN THIS BE LOVE?
1340—THE HOUSE OF YESTERDAY
1363—STAR DUST
1391—MY VALIANT FLEDGLING
1419—SO ENCHANTING AN ENEMY
1447—THE TURNING TIDE
1488—THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE
First published in 1970 by Mills & Boon Limited.
17-19 Foley Street, London, England
ISBN 373-01539-9
© Margaret Malcolm 1970
Harlequin Canadian edition published November, 1971
Harlequin U.S. edition published February, 1972
CHAPTER 1
A solitary bird gave a single, tentative cheep, liked the sound of it and did it again.
With a little moan of protest, Lisa lifted her head and peered sleepily at her alarm clock. Four o'clock! She turned over and prepared to drowse off again, but ten minutes later the entire dawn chorus was at it hammer and tongs, and sleep was out of the question.
'You noisy little horrors!' Lisa apostrophized them, but with a tolerant note in her voice. They were noisy —but how awful it would be if there weren't any birds! Besides, already, so early, there was the promise of a heavenly day—so why waste a minute of it?
Smothering a yawn, Lisa slid out of bed, gave herself a hurried shower and put on an open-necked shirt and shorts. Childishly flat-heeled sandals completed her outfit. A quick comb through of her straight, honey-coloured hair, and she was ready for anything the day had to offer. And as she went downstairs, her nose told her just what that was! Someone was cooking bacon, and it made her realize that she was as hungry as a hunter.
She went quietly out to the kitchen and grinned as she saw who it was standing before the electric cooker.
'Did the birds wake you up as well, Tom?' she asked from just behind him, hoping to make him jump at her unexpected advent.
But Tom Farrier was made of sterner stuff than that. He turned his head slightly and gave her an answering grin.
'Haven't been to bed yet,' he explained cheerfully. 'Been over at Bourne Farm all night. One of the cows had trouble with her calf. Still, she made out in the end—as nice a little heifer as you could want. Have some bacon and eggs?'
'M'm!' Lisa said appreciatively, and got further supplies out of the refrigerator. Five minutes later she and Tom were sitting opposite one another at the kitchen table, tucking into bacon and eggs and sharing a silence that was quite as companionable as any amount of chatter.
It was two years now since Tom had come to share the Bellairs' ugly Victorian house. And it was ugly in a way that only the Victorians seem able to have achieved. It was pretentious in style, the colour of the bricks made one wince, and its fancy decoration of stone and wood made it, as Professor Bellairs said, an architect's nightmare. But it did have one saving grace. It was big enough to contain plenty of generous-sized rooms. Not, perhaps, of very attractive proportions, but still affording ample living space for the various members of the fairly large Bellairs family to be able to spread out and not get on each other's or their parents' nerves in their young days.
Now, with most of the family either married and living away from home, there was only Lisa and her parents left, and because, as Mrs Bellairs said rather wistfully, the three of them rattled about like peas in a pod, the idea of moving was considered. But very regretfully. For where else would Professor Bellairs find sufficient room to keep his ever increasing library, each book in which was a friend he treasured jealously? Or Mrs Bellairs have been able to hold committee meetings so comfortably of all her hundred and one interests? And then it was so nice for Lisa to have a little sitting room of her own where she could entertain her friends—
None the less, it really was too big for them, and it didn't do rooms any good to be left closed and unused indefinitely, to say nothing of the work entailed keeping them clean. So really something had to be done about it.
It was at this point that Tom Farrier came into the picture.
Mr Teasdale, the local vet, decided that it was almost time for him to retire. As a preliminary, he took a younger man, Tom Farrier, into partnership. For a while they would work the practice together with Tom taking an increasing amount of responsibility and hard work. It was a sensible arrangement, for it meant that by the time Tom took over entirely, he would be well known locally and, it was to be hoped, liked.
There was one difficulty, however. Mr Teasdale had his waiting room and consulting room in his own house, but the accommodation was not big enough for the two men to work simultaneously in them. Besides, when he did retire, Mr Teasdale wanted to have the entire house for his private use. So other premises had to be found for Tom.
After some thought, Mr Teasdale, knowing that the Bellairs were thinking of moving, suggested that as an alternative, they should sublet part of the house to Tom, and this, after due consideration, they agreed to do. Tom had a small sitting room and a large room which was divided to form waiting and consulting rooms on the ground floor. The bigger room had a door which opened on to a flagged courtyard on the opposite side of which was a gateway leading to the lane which ran along the side of the house, so the Bellairs were not disturbed during consulting hours. In addition, Tom had the butler's small pantry as a kitchen, and a bedroom with its own bathroom upstairs. In theory at least, he was entirely independent of the Bellairs and they need not have concerned themselves with him in the least.
But it didn't work out that way. In no time at all, Tom was part of the family. Mrs Bellairs decided that he was far too lean for his height, and insisted on him mealing with them whenever possible so that he could be decently fed, she having no faith whatever in a man's ability to cook proper meals. The Professor found him extremely useful when it came to doing the practical jobs about the house and garden which he himself found so difficult to do successfully.
As for Lisa, she took him in her stride. She lent him a hand when a patient was too much for Tom to handle alone, sewed on his buttons, and, on the other side of the picture, took it for granted that unless his work interfered, she could rely on him to partner her to any of the local functions. In other words, she regarded him as an extra brother, though much more obliging than her real ones.
As for romance, where he was concerned, it simply didn't enter her head. Nor, she was confident, did it occur to Tom.
'And that's one thing I like so much about him,' she confided to her mother. 'There's no nonsense about him! We can be good friends without making a fuss about sex—'
Mrs Bellairs, who had more than once seen something in Tom's eyes when he looked at Lisa which, to her, suggested something other than friendship, agreed that it was always a good thing if people saw important things from the same angle, and left it at that. She sincerely hoped that one day a romance might blossom between them, but if it was to do so, it had got to happen spontaneously. Any interference, however well-meaning, might ruin everything.
So now, their meal finishe
d, Lisa tossed a tea-towel to Tom so that he could dry as she washed up.
'Though really you ought to turn in,' she told him with a hint of her mother's maternal attitude. 'You must be flaked out!'
'Not a bit of it,' he declared stoutly. 'Fresh as a daisy! As a matter of fact, why did you get up so early, Lisa? I didn't disturb you coming in, did I?'
'I told you, the birds woke me up—and then it seemed a pity to waste time sleeping. So I decided I'd go down to the river. There's a kingfisher nesting there and I'd love to get a glimpse of it.'
'Great!' Tom approved, and added diffidently, 'Mind if I come too?'
Lisa, clattering a little as she put the china they had used away in its cupboard, had an excuse for not answering immediately—and she needed it.
Really and truly, she didn't want Tom's company. He was a dear—but he wasn't exciting, and somehow Lisa had the conviction that this morning, given half a chance, could prove to be just that. Right from the moment she had woken up, she had felt that promise.
But she had heard that note of diffidence in Tom's voice and knew that though he really wanted to come, he wouldn't if she gave the least hint of preferring her own company. He was so sensitive and understanding that way. But all the same, it would be a snub—and you couldn't hurt a nice person like Tom if it could possibly be avoided.
The thoughts passed through her mind so quickly that as she turned away from the cupboard she was able to say frankly—and almost truthfully:
'Of course I don't mind. You know that, Tom!'
'Yes, I suppose I do,' he admitted, and wondered when Lisa would appreciate the fact that she was an extremely attractive and desirable young woman whose company a man would naturally seek—and who would awaken her to that knowledge. Himself? He doubted it! After all, he had had two years of uncontested opportunity in which to achieve that result—and he'd got absolutely nowhere! He and Lisa were the best of friends, but he was only too sure that he'd never yet caused her heart to quicken by so much as a single beat.
Had he been too diffident? Should he have tried shock tactics? he often wondered. But there was something so virginal, so untouched about Lisa that he was afraid to venture, for her sake. When one day she did awaken to the meaning of love and her own need for it, there mustn't be anything rough or frightening about it. It must come gently, joyously—
'Well, let's get going,' Lisa said briskly. 'I've just heard the church clock strike five—everybody will be up and about and spoil it all if we don't buck up!'
Tom came back to earth, his dreams shattered. But reality was very pleasant. To be by Lisa's side on a fresh May morning—he wouldn't have changed places with anyone!
Nor, for that matter, would Lisa. She would have preferred to be alone, but Tom seemed to have plenty of his own thoughts to occupy him for he was so silent that, after a while, Lisa almost forgot he was there and became lost in her own nebulous dreams.
'A penny for them!' Tom challenged as they walked in silence along Honeypot Lane. Lisa gave a little start. 'I was just thinking how marvellous everything is,' she said with a hint of glibness which Tom missed because another aspect of her remark concerned him more.
'Marvellous'—but in quite an impersonal way. Nothing to do with him being there—
' "God's in His heaven, all's right with the world?"' he suggested.
Lisa caught his hand in hers, gave it a quick squeeze and let it go.
'That's it, exactly,' she said gratefully. 'You do understand, don't you?'
He didn't reply. He did, indeed, understand only too well for his own comfort. He knew, for instance, exactly what that fleeting gesture had meant. An appreciation that he had understood her mood—nothing more.
They walked on, crossed the road on to which the house faced and came to a stile over which Lisa got with such celerity and skill that Tom's proffered help was superfluous, and so into a field golden with buttercups. Lisa gave a little crow of delight as she scuffed her sandalled feet through them.
'As long as I can remember, this field has been a glory at this time of year—and I've always loved walking through it—just look at our feet and ankles!'
They were powdered with golden dust, smothered in it as they brushed against the pollen-heavy flowers.
'I used to call it fairy gold when I was little,' Lisa confided. 'Once I tried to collect some and melt it down. I thought I'd be able to make money out of it. But of course I couldn't. All I made was a nasty smell because I burnt the saucepan I'd borrowed without permission. I got into hot water for that!'
'Serve you right,' Tom said severely. 'Mercenary little horror!'
'Well, not really,' Lisa defended herself. 'You see, in those days, when the three of us were growing up and all at school, money was a bit short. And I thought how useful it would be—'
'Sorry,' Tom said self-reproachfully. 'I should have known! I say, Lisa, money isn't tight now, is it? Because I could quite well afford to pay your people more.'
'Nice Tom!' Lisa said appreciatively. 'But no, honestly, there's need to worry now. If there were, I'd have had to get a job myself—though goodness knows what I could have done!' she admitted frankly. 'There's always one complete duffer in a family, you know, and I'm it!'
'A girl doesn't need to have passed examinations to be able to turn a house into a home,' Tom told her gruffly.
'Oh, Tom, what a nice thing to have said!' Lisa exclaimed warmly. 'But it's really quite easy when you're fond of people—'
In which category she obviously included him. Well, that was definitely something. In fact, it occurred to him that perhaps, after all, this was the time to tell her how he felt—but he hesitated just too long—and the moment passed.
'Tom—' there was an uncertain, wavering note in her voice which made it clear that she was following some definite line of thought in her own mind. Something, perhaps, that what they had just said had suggested.
'M'm?' he encouraged.
'Tom, do you ever get cross with people?'
He didn't know what he had expected, but certainly not that. However, he gave the matter his full consideration before replying because Lisa, he knew, wouldn't have asked the question if the answer hadn't been of some importance to her.
'Not if I can possibly help it,' he told her. 'To be cross—that always suggests to me that there was some-thing a bit petty about what annoyed or irritated you. Something you'd really be wiser to shrug your shoulders over—and do your best to forget. Now, if you'd said —did I ever get flamingly angry—' he paused significantly.
'Oh, do you?' Lisa was sufficiently interested in this to be diverted from her own affairs. 'I've never seen any sign of it!'
'I hope you never do,' Tom said shortly.
'Well, so do I—but still, what sort of things make you angry?' Lisa persisted.
'Well—' he scowled and a muscle twitched at the corner of his mouth. 'Cruelty, in any form. Taking advantage of the fact that you're strong to make the weak suffer. But we've got right away from the subject. What's worrying you, Lisa?'
'Well, you know Mrs Blewett, don't you?'
'Mill Cottage, two grossly fat dachshunds and a parrot that her sailor brother brought home years ago. The poor thing spends most of its time with a cover over the cage. It has got rather a ripe turn of language at times!'
Lisa gave a little spurt of laughter before she went on:
'And you know she's got a niece who goes in for dog-breeding?'
Tom groaned.
'Do I not! I get that confounded girl rammed down my throat every time I have to go to the house, which is frequently because the dogs are always ailing. I can't get her to understand that they—but what's she got to do with you being worried, Lisa?'
'I met Mrs Blewett yesterday,' Lisa explained. 'She told me that Celia—the niece—is coming to live with her—she's bought a half share in the kennels over at Ranstead.'
'Oh no!' Tom exclaimed, horrified. 'That's the very end! But I still don't see why you—'
> 'She was very full of it, of course. I thought she'd never stop, and then, quite suddenly, she switched on to the question of girls training properly for a career. She thought every girl ought to do that because, after all, one can't be sure of getting married, can one? And in any case, it develops a girl's mind—and that always makes her so much more interesting, particularly to men, don't you think?'
Tom's lips twitched slightly. He knew that Lisa was repeating word for word what Mrs Blewett had said and her voice had taken on the very tone of that lady. At any other time he would have congratulated Lisa on her mimicry, but this, he realized, was too serious an occasion for that.
'And then—' Lisa went on in her own voice, 'before I could stop her, she began a—a personal attack on Mummy and Daddy—'
'What!' Tom stood still in astonishment. 'But she couldn't! I mean, what is there to attack them about? They're the kindest, finest people—'
'Of course they are! But Mrs Blewett evidently doesn't realize that. She didn't say so in so many words —her sort never does—but all the same, she made it perfectly clear that in her opinion they were selfish and inconsiderate to have kept me at home instead of paying for me to have some sort of training.'
'Of all the cheek!' Tom said indignantly. 'So what did you say to that?'
'I told her that, fortunately, we weren't all made the same way, and that I was perfectly happy working at home. And that's true, Tom. But it didn't impress her. She simply said that loyalty was a very charming characteristic, but that I mustn't take it so far that my own interests suffered. And that—' she drew a deep breath, 'was where I lost my temper!'
'Small blame to you!' Tom declared. 'Old cat!'
Lisa slipped her arm through his and gave it one of her impulsive hugs.
'She is, isn't she? But all the same, does it do any good to tell a person just what you think of them like that?'
'Perhaps not,' Tom admitted. 'But on the other hand, what would she have thought if you hadn't spoken your mind? That you were agreeing with her? She'd have made fine capital out of that! No, you had to do it, Lisa.'
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