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The Storm Within

Page 6

by Sue Peters


  "Neither, Jane. It's Mr Rand. ..."

  "Can't be. She's a woman," the other said forthrightly, and Rob stifled a desire to giggle.

  "I'm Rob Fenton, Mr Rand's assistant," she explained, with what gravity she could muster. "He asked me to call I understand you've got a problem with your dogs?"

  "They've got fleas," said Jane abruptly, "and it won't be a problem for long—hedgehog fleas don't live on dogs."

  "They don't seem quite nice, dear," fluttered Hetty.

  "Of course they're not nice," retorted Jane. "They make the dogs scratch, Come through and see them while you're here," she bade Rob. "My sister won't rest until she's got a professional opinion, and paid for it. She won't believe me because I'm free."

  She turned, ducking slightly under the door, and Rob followed her, with Hetty bringing up the rear. They entered a tiny, cluttered room, with a small fire burning in the grate despite the warmth of the day. Rob's startled gaze took in the multitude of ornaments

  that seemed to adorn every flat surface, and she felt sure that this was Hetty's domain rather than Jane's. The latter waved her to a chair, opened a door into the garden, and gave a shrill whistle. Seconds later, two small terriers bounded into the room, with every appearance of perfect health.

  One was a cairn. "That's Whisky," introduced Jane. The other was a West Highland White. "That's Soda."

  Rob smiled.

  "They're in lovely condition, from the look of them," she said, and Jane's rather stern face relaxed.

  "They ought to be,"- she declared gruffly. "My sister feeds them as well as if not better than she feeds us." But her voice held affection.

  Rob turned to the dogs. They came to her quite readily, obviously used to nothing but fuss from everyone they met. A quick examination confirmed Jane's diagnosis, and Rob turned to Hetty.

  "Your sister is quite correct, they're hedgehog fleas. I should imagine these two rascals have had an encounter with one, and in all probability killed it," she diagnosed. She eyed Hetty's shuddery aversion sympathetically. "They won't live on the dogs, in twenty four hours they shout be gone, but if you like I'll let you have some powder that will hasten their going," she promised, and the plump little woman looked relieved.

  `I would be so grateful. To think they've contracted fleas."

  She made it sound like smallpox, and her sister snorted.

  "All dogs get 'em at some time or another, it's the nature of the beasts." She turned her attention to Rob. "So you're come to help Hallam Rand? He could certainly do with an assistant, the man is run off his feet," she stated.

  "If the surgery this morning was anything to go by, I can well believe it," replied Rob fervently. "There wasn't a minute to spare."

  "And I suppose you're in a hurry now?"

  "Not particularly," replied Rob. "Why, is there something else wrong?" The dogs had looked in the pink of condition. "This is my only call this afternoon," she said candidly.

  "Because it's your first day, I suppose. That will soon alter, I expect," said Jane. "Well, while you've got the chance, come along and see our garden, and the bees. You may never have the time again," she prophesied gloomily.

  "I'd love to." Rob spoke the truth. Her sore feelings found the uncomplicated friendliness of the spinster sisters

  The garden was as unexpected as Jane herself, and obviously her pride and joy. Rob divided the two sisters accurately into 'house' and 'garden'. A neat vegetable plot climbed a gentle slope on one side, the rows of vegetables as straight as well drilled soldiers, short ones at the front, tall ones at the back, culminating in a thick row of sticked beans; A herbaceous border, dazzling with summer colour, glowed on the

  other side, and a shallow stepped path meandered between the two, ending in grass among some well laden apples trees. Rob eyed a cluster of white beehives warily.

  "They won't hurt you, you know," said Jane, with the confidence of the dedicated. "Go up and take a look."

  To Rob's astonishment, Hetty walked calmly past her and slid the top off one of the hives.

  "You can see the comb," she encouraged Rob. "They're wonderfully interesting to watch."

  Shamed into going closer, Rob sidled apprehensively up to the hive and peeped inside. Several absorbed minutes later she became aware that Hetty still held the top of the hive, and her arms were obviously flagging.

  "Oh, I am so sorry," she apologised. "How awful of me to let you hold that heavy lid. But I got quite carried away, watching them." She helped Hetty to place the lid back, and realised to her relief that it was lighter than it had looked. "I quite forgot that I was afraid of bees."

  She stepped nimbly back from the hive, her fear returning now that her attention was not distracted, and found herself faced with two beaming smiles.

  "We've got a convert, Hetty."

  "So we have, Jane." Hetty turned a delighted face to her. "You must try some of our honey, Miss Fenton. I've got a little pot that you can take back with you. And when you get a spare minute, come and help us with the combs. You'll soon lose your fear of being stung," she assured Rob.

  Rob had reservations on that score, but she left them unvoiced. The sisters' little pot of honey' turned out to be a good half pound, she guessed, and as she thanked them she realised with astonishment that it was gone five o'clock.

  "Goodness, I must fly !" she exclaimed. "I must go to the shop for some odds and ends before they close."

  She dropped the honey into the front seat of the Austin, and ran back hastily to the bow-fronted cottage that seemed to be shop, post office and general store combined, the only business apart from the public house that the village possessed.

  "Hello, miss. Was Mr Rand cross with you for getting wet ?"

  Rob's small acquaintance of the morning stood at the counter, with a stick of toffee in his hand, and his dog, considerably cleaner for its ducking, drooling at his feet. A slender, fair-haired woman standing beside the boy turned and regarded Rob closely.

  "This is the lady that got me out, Mum."

  "Who got you out, Jimmy," corrected his mother automatically, and held out her hand to Rob. "We owe a welcome balm.

  you a great debt, Miss Fenton. To say thank you doesn't seem enough," she said gravely, and with her other hand she pulled her small son close.

  "Mind my toffee, it's all sticky. Oooh, it's gone on your dress !"

  "Never mind the toffee, Jimmy," said his mother quietly, to the child's obvious astonishment, and Rob flushed under her steady gaze.

  "It was nothing," she protested. "I'm a strong

  swimmer. But don't go near the mill wheel again, Jimmy," she warned, feeling the lad's eyes on her face. "The tug of the undertow is much too strong for a small boy. Even now, with the river low, it's as much as a grownup can do to cope with it. What it must be like when there's been a lot of rain . . ." she shivered.

  "Mr Rand would have managed all right," defended Jimmy, obviously feeling that the vet was capable of coping with anything.

  "Yes," admitted Rob quietly, "but Mr Rand is a grown man, and a strong one."

  "Jimmy knows the danger, and he's promised faithfully not to go near the mill stream again," said his mother. "In future he'll fish from the ford across the footpath in the fields at Norton End. It's very shallow there," she explained. "But Tom and I will always be grateful to you for rescuing him. Why not come in some time and have a drink, and let us thank you properly ?"

  "That's kind of you, Mrs—er— ?" Rob realised that she did not know Jimmy's surname, and the other woman smiled.

  "I'm Sue Grant. My husband, Tom, is the landlord of the Martyr's Arms, over on the other side of the pond."

  "My name is Rob—Rob Fenton. I've come as assistant to Mr Rand—at least temporarily," said Rob ruefully, thinking of the morning encounter with her employer.

  "I hope you like us well enough to make it a permanent appointment," smiled Jimmy's mother. "Don't forget our invitation, will you ?"

  "I won't," promised Rob. "I'll dro
p in as soon as I can."

  She made her purchases and waved the two goodbye, then made the run back to Mill House without any further mishap with the ducks. Garaging the car, she slipped straight up to her room, then, bathed and changed, made her way downstairs, with the pot of honey in her hand. She hesitated on the bottom step, then turned away from the study door and made towards the kitchen. She did not relish the thought of meeting Hallam Rand before she absolutely had to. In fact, if the opportunity arose she would take her evening meal in the kitchen with Martha. Eating in uncongenial company did nothing to promote good digestion, as Rob had found to her cost after lunch. Anyhow, Martha would be pleased with the honey. She smiled at the thought of the ill-assorted donors, and her face was bright as she opened the kitchen door, and held out her gift towards the housekeeper.

  "A present for you, Martha—" she began. A movement by the stove caught her attention, and Hallam Rand looked up from a box on the floor. Rob stopped dead, the smile wiped from her face. For a couple of seconds she stood perfectly still, then she moved forward deliberately and put the pot of honey down on the table. "Jane Wilberforce gave it to me when I went there this afternoon," she said quietly, and turned immediately back to the door, the slender heels of her sandals, the same green ones that she had worn the

  evening before, tapping sharply on the stone-flagged floor.

  "Miss Fenton !"

  Rob hesitated, and turned back into the room. However much she disliked the idea of contact with him, Hallam Rand was her employer, and she would not give him the excuse to accuse her of sulking. She had to put up with the job for the rest of the month, and it would be better to do so with at least surface amicability, if nothing else. She eyed him levelly.

  "Yes, Mr Rand ?"

  The vet did not hesitate.

  "I owe you an apology for this morning," he said quietly. "Jimmy told Verity what had happened, when she took him home, and she told me when I went to Wade Hollow after lunch for another look at the cow. You undoubtedly saved Jimmy from drowning. I'm very sorry I misjudged you," he said humbly.

  Rob could hardly believe her ears. The arrogant Hallam Rand was actually apologising ! She stared at him in frank disbelief, poised on her toes like a startled faun, ready to dart away at the first unfriendly move. Becoming aware of the tense silence in the kitchen, she withdrew into herself, and shutters of caution erased the expression from her eyes.

  "That's quite all right, Mr Rand. It was a pardonable misunderstanding," she said politely.

  She turned to go, and the vet got up from beside the stove quickly, reaching down into the box which he held in his hand.

  "Miss Fenton—Rob ! Don't go !" He took a step

  forward. "Verity gave me a peace-offering for you," he said, with a half smile. "I hope you'll accept it, and forgive me ?"

  His tone was almost pleading, holding Rob against her will. Her eyes searched his face doubtfully, but her ears did not deceive her. He had actually called her Rob ! Not the aloof, and somehow disapproving `Miss Fenton', that made her feel as if she should have her hair screwed back into a bun, like Martha's, and be about as old.

  The vet stretched his arm out towards her, and Rob saw that his fingers were curled loosely round something small and black, something that squirmed, and gave a faint squeak.

  "A kitten?" She held out her hands, completely disarmed, delight making her face vivid. "Verity knew I was looking for a kitten."

  She took the small black bundle in her hands. It was soft and warm, and purring gently like a miniature dynamo. It opened one small blue eye, then shut it again, at peace with its own small world, knowing, as animals do, that the hands that cradled it were friendly.

  "So she told me," responded the vet, his finger still stroking the kitten's ears. "I understand that you couldn't treat a cat, so you sought therapy for its owner ?"

  Rob glanced up at him quickly, uncertain whether this was another rebuke, but his voice held no reproof. She began hesitatingly, still unsure of her ground.

  "She's an old lady. She said she lives on her own . . ."

  "Yes, I know. She'll miss old Ginger." His voice was kindly. "I'm glad you thought to promise her another cat, it will stop her from grieving too much, getting ready for it."

  "This one is sweet." Rob cuddled the little bundle of black fur. "It was kind of Verity to send it."

  The kitten showed a minute pink tongue in a yawn, and curled up even tighter. Red padded over from the stove, his eyes on Rob's face, and he reached up a tentative paw. His owner gazed at him, astonished.

  "Well, I'm blessed ! I think he's jealous."

  "I could understand that if it was you holding the kitten, Mr Hal," commented Martha. "I really think Miss Rob has brought Red out of his shell, he's never taken to anyone else to my knowledge before. Not even Miss Verity."

  It sounded as if the dog took after its owner, thought Rob; they said that dogs usually did. She knelt down and took Red's paw.

  "Don't worry, boy, he hasn't come to stay. As soon as I find out where the old lady lives, I'll take him to her. I forgot to get her address," she admitted, vexed with herself for what she was sure the vet would regard as further inefficiency.

  "I know the whereabouts of her cottage," said Hallam Rand .

  THE kitten slept peacefully on Rob's lap throughout dinner. The setter watched her sit down, his amber eyes speculative. As soon as his master was settled in his chair, the dog looked from one to the other of them,

  and then compromised and curled up on the rug between them.

  "As Martha says, you seem to have made a hit with Red."

  Rob looked across the table at his owner. "I think he may be just standing guard to see that the kitten does not take liberties in his territory," she said, not sure whether the man would take offence at his dog paying attention to a newcomer who occupied a place at his table on sufferance. But Hallam Rand only smiled, glancing down indulgently at the setter.

  ildly, with no sign of reproof. "If you like, I'll run you there after dinner," he offered.

  Rob looked at him, shocked. The last thing she felt she wanted was his company during the evening.

  "if you'll just give me her address, I needn't trouble you," she began. It would be much nicer to run the

  kitten out to its new owner in the privacy of her own car; she had reckoned on the trip saving her the embarrassment of spending the after-dinner hours at Mill House, where to put it mildly she did not feel welcome.

  "It will be no trouble," insisted Hallam Rand.

  It, seemed as if he was intent on making amends whether she wanted him to or not, thought Rob with an inward grimace, and wished heartily that he would not have such a conscience. Probably Verity had scolded him, she seemed friendly enough.

  "It will be an opportunity for you to get your bearings," continued the vet, blandly ignoring her pointed lack of enthusiasm. "Most of the calls about minor troubles from domestic pets come from the cottages. The bigger stuff, the real trouble, comes from the farms." He moved nearer, towering over her. "Now, come and have your dinner." He put his arm round her shoulders, and steered her, kitten and all, towards the door. "You didn't make much headway with your lunch, and if you're going to be of any assistance to me, you'll have to eat properly to keep up your energy."

  CHAPTER SIX

  "He's an old misanthrope. It will do him good to make friends. Now," as Martha finished serving them, and disappeared through the door, "tell me about your visit do Hetty Wilberforce. You must have made a hit there, too, for them to give you a pot of honey," he said drily. "That's a privilege that's only accorded to the few."

  From his tone of voice, Rob deduced that he was not one of the few, and bit back a smile. She told him briefly what had transpired.

  "I promised to take some powder along to her," she finished, rather hesitantly. "I know it's not really necessary for hedgehog fleas, but the younger Miss Wilberforce did seem very upset about them."

  "Hetty would be," retorted Hal
lam Rand, and his tone made Rob's heart sink. So much for her promise ! Her face must have reflected her feelings, because the man immediately reacted.

  "Take her the powder, by all means," he exclaimed, "if you think it will make her happy."

  Rob's expression brightened.

  "Oh, may I ? You really don't mind ?" she asked him, her voice betraying her relief. "I'll go and get some from the surgery." She made to rise from the table.

  "Sit down again and finish your coffee," commanded her employer, "I've got some powder that will do in the Land Rover. It will satisfy Hetty Wilberforce, and the fleas will go of their own accord," he said, with the ghost of a grin feathering the corners of his eyes.

  Rob looked up, his amusement reflecting on her own face, and their eyes met, briefly, with the same rapport that had been so evident when they had worked together removing the plaster from the collie's leg.

  They called at the Wilberforces' cottage first, using the kitten as an excuse to get away.

  "Hetty will keep you talking all night if you don't," warned Hallam Rand, pinning himself firmly to the driving seat, and refusing to get out. "You take the powder," he told Rob, handing her a packet that looked suspiciously like ordinary talcum. She took it without comment, and her companion met her raised eyebrows with a bland stare. She handed him the kitten to hold, and found him using the end of his good silk tie as a piece of string for its delight when she returned ten minutes later, leaving behind her a happy Hetty, a sardonic Jane, and a renewed invitation to visit them and see the bees as soon as she got a moment free.

  "You weren't too long," Hallam Rand commented

  when she resumed her seat, and reclaimed the playful little animal. "Now to deliver your bundle." He sucked a scratch across the back of his hand, and rubbed the donor's ears without animosity. "Warn the old soul to watch her chair legs," he told Rob. "That one has got claws like needles !"

 

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