Home is Where the Heart Is

by Jenny Lane

  If Lindsey had hoped life would suddenly change for her overnight, however, then she was greatly mistaken. Susan developed a cold and proved to be a very bad patient. Simon, obviously regretting his moment of weakness, became more moody and withdrawn than Lindsey had ever known him to be and she, feeling thoroughly miserable at the strange turn events had taken, buried herself in her typing and wondered if she ought to apply for another job after all. The snow had turned to slush; the magic was over. The enchanted fairy-tale land had gone, leaving Lindsey feeling more desolate than ever.

  Rob 'phoned up a few mornings later, just as Lindsey was about to prepare Simon's lunch.

  "Lin, you haven't written to father yet have you?"

  "No, I keep putting off the evil moment—Why, Rob?"

  "He 'phoned me last night—that's why! He's joined Gavin in Nairobi. They've had to sort out some business matters, apparently. Gavin's told him the news. You've done it this time, sister dear, make no mistake about it."

  "Oh, no!" gasped Lindsey. "I wanted to tell him in my own way. What was his reaction?"

  "What did you expect? You've upset the apple-cart as far as he's concerned, and he's simply livid. After all you have been rather impetuous, haven't you Lin, telling Gavin you're not returning to Africa. Father wants to know what on earth you're playing at—says he wants you to return on the first available flight. He can't manage without you a moment longer. He says if he doesn't hear from you within a week, then he's coming over to sort things out himself."

  Lindsey laughed shakily. "He must have taken it badly, and he's being melodramatic as usual. He seems to forget I'm grown-up now—Thank goodness he doesn't know about my job."

  "Oh, I think he suspects something. You know how father jumps to conclusions."

  "Did he—did he mention Aunt Mary, or the bungalow?"

  "Nope, not a word, and I didn't dare bring the subject up with him in that frame of mind…Look I must go now —got a lecture, but I'll keep in touch. 'Bye, Lindy, and chin up, love."

  Lindsey went to sit on the landing window seat in a complete daze. It was all so totally unfair. What had she gained from coming to England anyway? She had set out to have a wonderful holiday, her last before settling down with Gavin, and had ended up having to get a job, and then falling hopelessly in love with her employer. As the days passed, she had realised that there was little chance of her having her love reciprocated. How she longed for those grey eyes to light up in approval of her. Even so, it was something to be working under the same roof, and now her father would want to take her away from even that.

  Lindsey loved her father dearly, but the time had come when she could not let him interfere in her life any longer. He loved running people's affairs, and, this time, she was going to have to stand up to him and say no. His temper, when he learned she had a job and was really not going to marry Gavin, or return to Africa, would know no bounds. He would reason with her, appeal to her conscience, make her feel thoroughly guilty at leaving him to fend for himself. He would work himself up into a terrible pitch. The accounts would be in a muddle; the houseboy would have ruined his clothing in the wash…She could only pray that father, at least, knew about the bungalow.

  When Lindsey took Simon's lunch in to him, he cleared a space on his desk.

  "All this money you've given me for that long distance call must have made a tidy hole in your salary. Have you got a boyfriend in every port?"

  Lindsey was caught unawares. Feeling herself colouring, she passed him the side salad. They were skating on dangerous ground.

  "You're rather jumping to conclusions aren't you, Mr. Kirkby?"

  Simon gave her one of his granite looks. "Am I? Then I apologise…This omelette's delicious. You're a good cook, Lindsey. I'm going to be out this evening, but I'll probably want some supper when I get back. There's no need for you to wait up. If you could just leave a tray ready with enough sandwiches for two, and switch the percolator on…”

  Lindsey wondered if it was Sonia Vincent he was taking out and felt a sudden stab of jealousy. She would have given anything to be in Sonia's place just now.

  "Oh, and can you collect my dinner jacket from the cleaners in the precinct, please? I forgot to mention it this morning—I've got the ticket here some-where—Ah yes, here it is."

  Lindsey had a fleeting vision of herself in her new cocktail dress; being escorted by Simon to some exclusive night club. Realising he was looking at her expectantly, she hastily took the proffered ticket.

  "Yes, of course, Mr. Kirkby." She felt leaden-hearted as she closed the door. How hopeless it was to be in love with Simon. It was a completely impossible situation, quite beyond her control.

  Lindsey threw herself into a frenzy of typing. She would not allow herself to dwell on either Simon or her father, but would concentrate on getting the articles finished in record time. She grimly drove herself on, pausing only to collect the children and get their tea. At last she was forced to stop, because of the cramp in her hands. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Tommy came bounding into the room, waving a model aeroplane.

  "Look, Merry, it's finished—What d'you think of it?"

  "It's super, Tommy You'll have quite a collection now."

  He stood there for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "It's Aunty Sonia's birthday on Saturday. We're supposed to be going to her party Daddy's taking her out to dinner tonight."

  So that was it. Lindsey carefully inserted a clean sheet of paper into the machine.

  Simon appeared in the doorway at that moment, looking remarkably handsome in his dinner-jacket and bow tie, and brandishing a clothes brush. "This wretched suit picks up every piece of fluff imaginable. Could you brush me down?"

  Lindsey did so, wishing with all her heart that it was her he was taking out to dinner that evening.

  "I suppose you haven't seen my gold cuff links anywhere?"

  "Try the ash tray on the desk in your study."

  "Thanks, I don't know what we'd do without Miss Meredith, do you Tommy…? What's that you've got there, another model aeroplane?"

  Tommy showed it to him, proudly explaining every detail. Lindsey, watching father and son, realised again how dearly she had grown to love them both, and how much a part of her they had become.

  She typed far into the night, lost to Simon's manuscript which she found intriguing, driving herself on because she knew she must keep her mind fully occupied, and that she would not sleep if she went to bed. It wasn't until she heard the sound of low voices in the hall that she realised Simon and Sonia had returned.

  Some impulse made her peer over the banisters, as she was crossing the landing to the bathroom. As she did so, Simon took Sonia into his arms and kissed her, and suddenly, Lindsey was brought to her senses. What a fool she had been. How could she have ever imagined that the kiss Simon had given her had meant anything at all to him? It was obvious he was going to marry Sonia, and nothing could be gained by remaining here any longer. Even now, it would not be too late to tell Gavin that she had changed her mind, and that she wanted to marry him after all, that she had refused because of a sudden fit of nerves. Both Gavin and her father needed her; whereas Simon did not. She must forget all this and return to Kenya.

  Chapter Eight

  Lindsey tossed and turned most of the night, and finally fell into a fitful sleep in the early hours of the morning. She awoke heavy-eyed and irritable, feeling that something was wrong, but not being able to place it. At last it all came flooding back to her—the memory of Sonia in Simon's arms the previous evening, and of her own decision to leave Balliam Point.

  For the first time since she had been in England, Lindsey found herself wishing she was back on the ranch. She closed her eyes and thought of the sun-drenched grass, the cheerful face of the house boy, maize porridge for breakfast and, above all, Gavin and her father. She swallowed hard, feeling torn in two.

  To top it all, just as Susan was getting out of the car at the school gates, she
suddenly realised Lindsey had forgotten to give her the ingredients for her cookery lesson.

  "I particularly wanted to make that cake for Aunty Sonia's birthday tea. You did it deliberately, didn't you—just to spite me? You can't just have forgotten. I think you're perfectly hateful."

  Lindsey was tempted to go after her, but knew it would be of no use. It would be equally of no use to try pointing out that a fresh cream and fruit gateau had to be eaten immediately.

  Tommy whistled. "Wow, she is mad isn't she, Lindy? Anyway, what would Aunty Sonia want Sue's silly old cake for? She doesn't eat it 'cos she's always on a diet."

  Simon was in a particularly bad mood that day, and Lindsey resolved that when she had finished typing the manuscript she would give in her notice and return to Africa.

  That evening, Rob rang. There was something odd about the tone of his voice.

  "Lindsey, I don't want you to worry, but Gavin's sent a cable—I'm afraid father's had a minor heart attack. He's in hospital in N'bo."

  "Oh no!—Rob, it's all my fault!"

  "No, Lindsey, don't blame yourself. You know how excited father gets over the slightest thing. He'll be all right—You know dad; he's got a constitution like an ox."

  "I must go to him, Rob. I'll speak with Simon Kirkby straight away, and leave on the first available flight."

  "Don't be daft, Lin. The old man would only get more excited at seeing you, and he'd play on the situation. It would be emotional blackmail."

  "Rob, how can you be so callous when father's ill! Anyway, I've made up my mind to it. I'm going to marry Gavin after all. It's the only sensible course open to me, in the circumstances."

  "Look, Lin, if you don't want to marry Gavin then for goodness sake don't! Father'll get used to the idea eventually, you'll see."

  The door opened quietly and Simon stood there. Lindsey did not even notice him. "I know if I told father we were getting married he'd be as happy as a sandboy. It's odd, but I suppose, growing up together, it's been the natural thing for us to marry…Everyone sort of took it for granted."

  The door closed; this time with a perceptible click.

  "Rob, I'll have to go. Mr. Kirkby's just come in—probably wondering what's happened to his coffee."

  "Well, father's in good hands and there's nothing you can do at present, so I'd stay put if I were you—at least for the time being. I've already cabled and, if I can afford it, I'll phone in a day or two. Gavin will keep in touch."

  Lindsey suddenly felt incredibly weary. "Oh, Rob, everything's gone wrong just lately."

  "I say, Lindy, you're not crying, are you?" he asked in horror.

  "I'm sorry, Rob. It's just that I'm tired, and worried about father and, I suppose, Gavin, if the truth's known…Oh, I wish life wasn't so complicated."

  "Don't worry! Keep smiling."

  Don't worry! It was easier said than done. Lindsey put down the receiver, her heart heavy. Tears pricked her eyelids at the thought of her father, such an active man, lying in hospital. How he would hate to be away from the ranch; confined to bed and ordered about.

  A few minutes later, Simon re-entering the study discovered Lindsey still staring at the telephone, as if it were about to explode. He had had a trying day one way and another; endeavouring to finish the article so that Lindsey could type it, amidst constant 'phone calls; a small son who insisted upon showing him how he had assembled yet another balsa wood aircraft (at least the tenth he'd seen). To top it all, his daughter had interrupted his dinner with some garbled story about a cake Lindsey wouldn't allow her to make. And now, just when he wanted a bit of peace and quiet; he found his housekeeper glued to his telephone looking half demented. Something suddenly snapped inside him. "Miss Meredith, if you've quite finished with my study, perhaps you'll be good enough to remove yourself so that I can do some more work. You may or may not remember that the manuscript has to be at the publishers by next week and, if that blessed boyfriend of yours rings you up just once more, I'll not be responsible for the consequences. It's obviously he who's causing you to be so ridiculously absent-minded. Perhaps you can explain to me about Susan's cake. No, on second thoughts, don't bother! I can see you're mesmerised again, but will you please try to cut down on the 'phone calls in future…”

  He suddenly saw the stricken look on her face, and those lovely eyes seemed to be full of tears and yet, hadn't he just a moment ago, heard her discussing her marriage with her boyfriend? Why then did she look so upset, unless it was that she hated to be parted from him.

  He pushed her gently on to a chair. "Look, I'm going to give you an order, and that is to take a rest. Have an early night. I don't want my secretary getting ill with the manuscript so near to completion, and that's what you seem to be in danger of doing." He gently touched her cheek, and Lindsey felt his nearness, like an electric current burning her skin. Her pulse raced, and then the moment had passed.

  "And now just leave me to work in peace, and keep Tommy and his aeroplanes, and Susan and her complaints, out of my way for a little while, will you?”

  Unfeeling brute, Lindsey thought savagely, as she went into the breakfast room. How could I ever have imagined myself to be in love with him. "But I am —I am!" she said aloud to the typewriter. "And I can do nothing about it except return to Kenya and marry Gavin, and try to forget all about this interlude. To pretend that Balliam Point and Simon Kirkby have never existed."

  Suddenly the scalding tears fell. What a mess she had made of everything. Poor father; it was all her fault, no matter what Rob tried to say to the contrary. She dashed the tears away impatiently, and tried to concentrate on the typing, but the words swam before her eyes.

  "Merry, what's the capital of Portugal? I can't find it anywhere."

  "Lisbon," said Lindsey automatically. "It's time for your bath, Tommy."

  "Oh no, it can't be, not yet. It's Friday, remember?" He gazed at her curiously. "Have you been crying, Lindy?"

  Lindsey laughed shakily. "No, of course not—my eyes are watering that's all. I must have a bit of a cold." She blew her nose.

  "Well, they're watering an awful lot, and you just look like you have, that's all."

  "My father isn't very well, Tommy. He's in hospital in Nairobi, and, of course, I'm rather upset about him."

  Tommy came and put his arms round her. "Poor old Lindy, and Africa's such a long way away…" A sudden thought struck him. "Lindy, you're not thinking of going home are you? You won't leave us?"

  "No, Tommy, of course not," she lied. "Now go and have your bath."

  Tommy heaved a sigh of relief. "That's all right then, because we do need you very much."

  When Tommy had left, Lindsey rested her head on her hands; seeing visions of her father lying in a hospital bed worrying about the ranch and herself. And then she saw Simon kissing Sonia and looking at her adoringly. And then there was Tommy's sombre little face looking up at her and saying, "You won't leave us, because we do need you very much." Dear God why was life so very complicated? Why did she have to fall in love with the wrong man, she asked herself for the hundredth time. She would have to tell Simon about Africa soon…but not tonight.

  She decided to take Simon's advice and have an early night. She wouldn't do any more typing for now. She put the machine away and took the typing upstairs to put it with the rest of the manuscript…shooing Tommy into the bathroom en route.

  Susan jumped to her feet, as Lindsey came into the sitting room.

  "Merry, I'm awfully thirsty, can I get a drink?"

  "Of course you can. I'll be down in a minute, if you'd like to put the kettle on." Susan hurried out of the room. Lindsey went to the cupboard where she kept the typing, and took down the box. It was full of minute shreds of paper—Someone had torn up the typescript. Lindsey gave a strangled cry and, suddenly everything went black…

  When Lindsey came to, it was to find Simon bending anxiously over her.

  "Where am I—What happened?"

  "It's all right, Lindsey. You fainte
d that's all—Probably lack of food Susan's making some tea."

  "I never faint—I can't have done." And then she remembered.

  "The manuscript—it's been torn up…I tried so hard to get it finished. You'll be so angry. Everyone's angry with me, my father—I've made him ill Gavin, Susan, and you . . . Most of all you . . ." The tears coursed down her cheeks.

  "Lindsey, I am not angry with you. Do I have to prove it to you silly child!" He bent down, and then, suddenly, he was kissing her and her arms slid round his neck, as she floated away on a cloud of ecstasy. "There, does that prove it…And the typing's safe, Lindsey, quite safe —It was Susan's stupid sense of humour. I suppose she thought she'd pay you back for not being able to make that cake. Look, this paper she's torn up is just from the wastepaper basket, the manuscript is here, quite safe in an identical box…No wonder you're so tired; you've nearly finished the typing and there's another ten days to go yet before the deadline."

  Susan returned with the tea and some sandwiches, looking very crestfallen. She was surprised to see Lindsey looking far from angry. Her eyes were shining, and she was smiling.

  "Merry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you a shock, truly I didn't."

  "Okay, Sue, you've proved your point, said Simon. “Have your tea and then go to bed."

  Susan obeyed him, gulping it down and saying very little. When she had gone, Simon said. "Well, the tea seems to have restored some of our sanity I think."

  "Do you often suffer from that kind of moonlight insanity?" Lindsey asked a little shakily.

  He laughed. "Now and then, but there's nothing like tea to bring me to my senses. I apologise for my daughter giving you such a shock, Lindsey. That's the sort of thing Lucy would have done to get her own back, only if it had been Lucy, she really would have torn it up and burnt it to boot, quite likely…If you're sure you're all right now, I'll say good night, my dear."