Next Door to Romance

by Margaret Malcolm

  'Good idea, sir!' Mark agreed, but suddenly he felt as if there was no air to breathe in the room.

  He'd managed things pretty well, but all the same, he wasn't out of the wood yet. Sentence hadn't been pronounced—but he and Lisa were on probation, and whether they made out or not was going to make a very real difference to his future.

  The devil of it was he couldn't possibly explain that to Lisa. It was the sort of thing that a girl like Evadne understood without being told, but Lisa was very different, thank goodness!

  Very different! He thought of the look in her face as she lifted it to his—the sweetness, the tenderness, the hint of underlying passion—oh, he was worrying needlessly! Lisa would twist the old man round her little finger without even knowing she was doing it!

  No, he'd got nothing to worry about. All the same, it was a long time before Mark went to sleep that night.

  CHAPTER 5

  Mark had told Simon Cosgrave that we—Lisa and himself—had made the decision not to announce their engagement immediately nor to think of getting married for another year. With this statement Lisa would have agreed unhesitatingly. Indeed, it never crossed her mind that anyone could take a different view.

  Tom, however, was the exception and made no bones about telling her so. His listened attentively to what she had to say and then nodded.

  'Yes, I think I understand,' he commented, and went on with brutal bluntness: 'What you mean is that if, at the end of this probationary period, his lordship is graciously pleased to decide that you're up to his standard, then he'll fork out for a ring. But even then, he's not finally committed for another nine months or so! An impetuous lover, I must say, Lisa!'

  Lisa stared at him. She could understand that her news hadn't been welcome, but that he could read anything so unpleasant as this into the delay—and even more, put such a thought into words—was as alien to Tom's nature as it was absurd. And she didn't hesitate to tell him so.

  'If Mark and I had no one to consider but ourselves, then of course we'd get married at once,' she explained coldly. 'We know it's the real thing, but we do realize that other people might think we haven't known each other long enough to be sure—'

  'Which other people?' Tom wanted to know.

  'Oh, really, Tom!' Lisa's impatience was unmistakable now. 'Mummy and Daddy, of course!'

  'But I always understood that your people's was a whirlwind courtship and marriage,' Tom commented with infuriating certainty. 'A matter of ten days or so after their first meeting.'

  Lisa bit her lip. What he said was perfectly true, but though she'd always thought of her parents' love affair as extremely romantic, strangely enough she'd completely forgotten in what a strong position they were when she and Mark had discussed their own future plans.

  'Oh well, you know how it is,' she said lamely. 'Parents rarely think their children are capable of the same judgment as they had.'

  Tom shook his head.

  'Not your people,' he told her firmly. 'Of all the parents I've ever met, they're the wisest and most far-seeing. And the most honest, which is something again. No, they'd have accepted the situation, Lisa, unless, of course—' he paused reflectively.

  'Yes?' she asked, tight-lipped. 'Unless—?'

  'Unless, with their greater knowledge and experience of the world, they saw something in Saville that made them doubt whether he would give you the happiness they've had together,' Tom said slowly. 'But of course, you'll deny that such a thing was possible!'

  'Of course I do,' Lisa said stoutly. 'What could they possible find to object to in Mark?'

  To her surprise, Tom didn't argue the point.

  'All right, then,' he said coolly. 'So there wasn't any need to postpone either your engagement or your marriage on your parents' account! So on whose account have they been postponed?'

  Lisa was silent. Somehow or other Tom had talked her round into contradicting herself. Just how he had managed it she couldn't quite understand, but she felt puzzled and resentful. What right had he to catechize her like this? And why should he want to? He might not like Mark—if it came to that, Mark didn't like him— but that didn't mean that Tom had the right to sit in judgment like this, or to try to sow doubts in her mind.

  'I don't know what you're talking about,' she told him coldly.

  'No?' Tom stood four-square in front of her, his head thrust forward between hunched shoulders, his normally pleasant face grim. 'In that case, I'd better spell it out to you in words of one syllable.'

  Lisa shrugged her shoulders.

  'Just as you like,' she said indifferently, standing her ground despite a longing to escape from those keen, penetrating eyes of Tom's. What was he going to say? He didn't leave her in ignorance for long.

  'D'you remember, that first morning we came across Saville in that flashy car of his, I described him as being of the rising young executive type?'

  'I do,' Lisa acknowledged. 'I also remember that you were insufferably rude—'

  'Yes. I said I disliked the type because, in my experience, that sort are smart, slippery and ruthless. I'm still of that opinion, and though I don't for a moment expect you to see eye to eye with me over that, at least you will admit he is a rising young executive?'

  'Yes, I suppose so,' Lisa said cautiously, wondering just where the admission was going to lead her.

  'Right! Well then, it follows that he's getting on in the world because his boss thinks well of him?'

  'Well, naturally. Mr Cosgrave thinks an awful lot of Mark.'

  'And with reason, I'd say,' Tom nodded. 'If ever there were two birds of a feather—but that's just the point. At present, as far as Cosgrave's concerned, Saville's the blue-eyed boy. But supposing he were to blot his copybook? Supposing he did something that Mr Cosgrave regarded as being foolish and possibly prejudicial to Saville's future—and even more, to the future of the firm? Then what?'

  Lisa's chin went up and her eyes glinted dangerously.

  'You tell me!' she suggested.

  Tom made an impatient movement.

  'Oh, what's the use? You're so dazzled and blinded by that smart Alec that you can't see what's sticking out a mile!' He paused. 'It's so much waste of time, but at least I'm going to have the satisfaction of knowing that you haven't gone into this entirely blindfold!'

  He caught hold of her shoulders, his hands gripping with painful force, but Lisa refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. She faced him defiantly.

  'Saville's future depends on him keeping in with Cosgrave,' Tom said slowly, evidently choosing his words with care. 'And being no fool, he knows that. Now there was a lot of talk about him marrying Evadne Cosgrave, the old man's daughter—ah, you knew that, didn't you?' as Lisa's shoulders stiffened. 'Well, that's fallen through because he's more or less engaged to you!'

  'We are engaged,' Lisa said stubbornly.

  'Oh no, you're not, my dear,' Tom contradicted. 'Not in Cosgrave's eyes! The way he'll see it is this —his young hopeful lost his heart to a pretty, unsophisticated little country girl. His heart—or what goes for one. But his head—never! Saville's left a way out for himself if the old man doesn't approve. And very cleverly he's done it, too! Why, he's even talked you into believing that it's as much your idea as his! Can't you see an inch in front of your nose, you little fool?'

  'I can see that you're the most beastly, evil-minded man that I've ever come across,' Lisa told him through white lips. 'And I'll be glad if you'll let go of my shoulders, because I can't stand being touched by you!'

  'I'll let you go when I've finished,' Tom retorted ruthlessly. 'These days, so they say in the world of big business, a man's career can be made or marred by the wife he chooses. Well, that's quite likely true in any world, but it means something rather different in the Cosgrave-Saville world. It means that a wife has got to be as slick and smart as her husband if she's to be considered satisfactory. What's more, it means that socially, she's got to entertain and expend her charms on any man who may possibly b
e of use to her husband—'

  With a quick twist, Lisa released herself from his grasp and walked deliberately over to the door of his surgery where the conversation had taken place.

  With her hand on the door knob she turned and faced him, contempt in her eyes.

  'After this, of course it's quite impossible for me to work for you,' she said icily. 'And if that should inconvenience you, you must remember that you are responsible for having made me change my mind. I shall be glad if you will keep out of my way as much as possible as, I of course, will keep out of yours!'

  She slipped through the door and closed it with significant firmness. The last word had been said!

  She never remembered having felt so angry or so hurt in her life before! And that Tom—Tom, of all people— was responsible for that was the final straw!

  Professor Bellairs was entertaining an old friend—that very friend, in fact, who had made him a gift of the sherry whose quality had so surprised Mark. They were enjoying a pre-lunch drink together now in Professor Bellairs' study, and though two men less alike could hardly be imagined, it was very clear that there was both deep affection and respect between them as well as a very very real enjoyment of each other's company.

  Professor Bellairs, at his ease in elderly house slippers, uncreased grey flannels and a shabby crested blazer dating from his student days, beamed at the immaculately clad figure in the opposite armchair.

  Sir Gerald Tenbury had made his way to the top of the tree in a world which was utterly unfamiliar to Professor Bellairs with his tranquil, scholarly background. Finance on a grand scale meant little or nothing to him, whereas to his friend, a banker of international repute and brilliance, it was an everyday affair. And, Professor Bellairs thought, he was beginning to show the strain of it. Sir Gerald read the thought that lay behind the look.

  'All right, I know!' he admitted wryly. 'I've lost weight and I look about ten years older than you do! Serve me right! Why the devil did I ever take on a job like mine?'

  'Because you enjoy a fight,' Professor Bellairs told him unhesitatingly. 'You know that as well as I do, my dear chap—just as, if you're honest, you'll admit that much of my sort of limited existence would drive you silly! It suits me perfectly—but it's all a matter of temperament. All the same, it's about time you had a holiday, you know, Gerald—and I think it's more than probable that some expensive consultant has already told you so! H'm?'

  'Yes, you're right, confound you,' Sir Gerald admitted. 'But I can't manage it just yet—not with things the way they are—' he hesitated and then went on: 'You see, the devil of it is, Charles, people like me are regarded as—well, one might say as barometers indicating the financial weather. There are everlastingly people on the watch to see what I record—or what they think I do. If I were to vanish from the scene in order to have a holiday—and that's the sort of holiday I want, not a rackety, in-the-public-eye sort of one—then not only would I be hounded down until my hideout was discovered, but heaven knows what might happen to the markets! I know it sounds as if I'm making a lot too much of my own importance, but it's the truth, Charles. There'd be rumours of secret meetings with other financial wallahs abroad—no, I can't risk it! The best I can hope for is the odd week-end off, and as a matter of fact, I've bought a cottage about a couple of miles from here with quite a decent stretch of water—we'll have some fishing together, Charles! And now, let's forget about my affairs and tell me about yours. How's that goddaughter of mine, for instance?'

  'Well—' Professor Bellairs said rather uncertainly, 'very happy—I suppose.'

  'You don't seem very sure of it,' Sir Charles commented. 'Young man trouble?'

  'Well, no, not really, only—'

  'Look, you'd better tell me right from the beginning. Not that you or I will be able to do the least bit of good. One never can help young people in love—and you haven't said it isn't that.'

  'Oh, it's that, all right,' Professor Bellairs nodded. 'But the thing is this, Gerald, they've known each other only a matter of weeks—'

  'And who are you to talk?' Sir Gerald asked with a whimsical lift of his brows. 'Ten days after you and Mary met, you were married! I ought to remember— you borrowed a fiver off me to pay for the wedding breakfast!'

  'I know—and that's the sort of impetuosity Mary and I would have understood,' Professor Bellairs explained earnestly. 'But when a young couple come to you and say oh yes, they're frightfully in love and it's the real thing, but they can't expect that other people will realize that and so they suggest that they should wait even before they get engaged—well, does that seem natural to you?'

  'Too considerate, you mean, seeing that young love is essentially selfish?' Sir Gerald suggested, caressing his close-shaven chin with his hand.

  The Professor nodded.

  'Exactly! So what do you make of it, Gerald?'

  'Well, the most obvious idea that occurs to me is that one or other of them or perhaps both aren't as sure of themselves as they make out.'

  'Just that! Now do you wonder that Mary and I aren't entirely happy?'

  'M'm! I suppose young Lisa knows all about your whirlwind courtship?'

  'Oh yes, we've never made any secret of it,' Professor Bellairs assured him, lifting the decanter and recharging their glasses. 'To be perfectly honest,' he added rather shamefacedly, 'we've always been rather proud of our good judgment.'

  'And surely Lisa would have told the young man that if he started worrying?' Sir Gerald ruminated. 'It is a bit odd!' For a moment he sipped reflectively at the golden wine. 'What's the young man's name, by the way?' he asked.

  'Mark Saville,' the Professor told him, and sat suddenly very erect in his chair . 'For goodness' sake, be careful, Gerald! You nearly had your glass over!'

  'I know I did,' Sir Gerald said grimly. 'Mark Saville! Does he by any chance work for a man named Simon Cosgrave?'

  'Why, yes.' Professor Bellairs looked at him apprehensively. 'Do you know him?'

  'Not by personal contact, but by reputation—yes,' Sir Gerald told him grimly. 'Heavens above, Charles, how did you let Lisa get mixed up with that lot? Come on, man, out with it, because this could be important! Where did Lisa meet Saville?'

  'At a local dance,' Professor Bellairs explained. 'You see, Cosgrave has bought the Manor over at Bardley and Mark was down for the weekend—'

  'Phew!' Sir Gerald buried his face in his hands. 'If I'd known this, I wouldn't have come to live within a hundred miles—do you know, I've been trying to dodge this fellow Cosgrave for years, and now, when I think I'm going to get a bit of peace—' he groaned heart-rendingly.

  Professor Bellairs looked alarmed.

  'Do you mean to say there's something wrong with him—he's dishonest?' he asked.

  Sir Gerald shook his head.

  'You're so forthright, Charles,' he complained. 'Your whites are so spotless, your blacks so jet-like! But no, not dishonest in the legal sense of the word at least. It's just that—' he paused, his lips pursed as if he was choosing his words with great care—' he's one of today's financial wizards. A gambler, in fact. No, a juggler would be a better word. None the less, so far as I know, he's never broken the law. At the same time, I doubt if there's a man alive who knows just exactly how far he can go without transgressing. There are a lot of people,' he added reflectively, 'who are convinced that one of these days he'll sail just too close to the wind and that will be the end of Simon Cosgrave. And they're looking forward to that day!'

  'And are you one of them, Gerald?' Professor Bellairs asked curiously.

  'Oh, me!' Sir Gerald's beautiful hands moved deprecatingly. 'As a banker, I'm supposed to be strictly impartial. But let's say I keep my eyes open—wide open! And I take—or have taken—very good care never, never, never to meet the man socially. He'd make capital of that, believe me! Apparently being on good terms with me could give his enterprises a ballast that is somewhat lacking as a rule!'

  The two men were silent for a time. Then Professor Bellairs
asked:

  'Do you think young Saville is likely to be tarred with the same brush?'

  'Almost certainly, I'd say,' Sir Gerald replied grimly. 'Cosgrave hasn't got a son, so the young man stands a good chance of being his business successor. More than that,' he added, 'if he were to marry Cosgrave's daughter, as everyone expected he would do.'

  Professor Bellairs didn't reply, and after a moment Sir Gerald asked tentatively:

  'Charles, just how serious is this affair? As far as Lisa is concerned, I mean.'

  'Entirely, I'd say,' her father sighed. 'You know Lisa. She never does things by halves.'

  'No—o.' Sir Gerald didn't sound as if he entirely agreed. 'But what about that young vet you've got here—Farrier, isn't it? I thought Mary had hopes for Lisa there?'

  'So she had. We both had. But nothing's come of it. In fact, they avoid each other like poison. Perhaps we made our hopes too obvious. And now, so far as one can judge, there's a possibility that his interests have turned elsewhere—Lisa is firmly of that opinion, anyway.'

  'Oh, is she?' Sir Gerald said with interest. 'Now, that might—just might—mean something! I wonder! Well, so far as I can see there isn't a thing you can do, except—look, what about making it absolutely clear both to Lisa and to young Saville that you won't raise any objection if they get married the day after tomorrow?'

  'But, my dear chap, suppose they took me at my word!' Professor Bellairs exclaimed. 'And they might.'

  'I don't think they would,' Sir Gerald said thoughtfully. 'But you've told me one thing, Charles. Quite apart from anything I've said, you haven't liked this business right from the beginning!'

  'No,' the Professor said heavily. 'Neither Mary nor I have. I can't exactly put it into words, but I'm thankful for this delay—whatever the reason for it may be!'

  'And I think you may say that even more fervently in the future!' Sir Gerald told him. 'In the meantime, if you possibly can, Charles, keep my name out of it. I honestly think it will be better for Lisa that way.'