`How's everybody?' she asked, going into the sitting room.
`We've had a lovely day,' Maxine smiled, and Alethea was struck by how much better her sister was looking already.
`We went for a picnic,' Georgia put in.
`And played house in ...' Sadie suddenly seemed to remember, and added quickly, 'We tidied up after..
`It doesn't matter,' Alethea said lightly, realising that Sadie and Georgia had been playing house in her room. She had been aware that she was going to have to say something within the next few hours about her proposed departure tomorrow, and had intended to have a few words in private with her mother about it. But suddenly the opportunity was there and, taking into account that privacy seemed a thing of the past since little feet had moved in, Alethea took the plunge. 'Actually, if it's all
right with Nanna and Mummy, one of you can have my room from tomorrow.' Taking her glance away from a suddenly energetic and excited Sadie, Alethea looked over to her parent. 'I've been able to find a place nearer to my job.' True. 'I'm moving in tomorrow.'
Cat amongst the pigeons didn't cover it! Though with Sadie going into ecstasies about having her own room at last, and Georgia throwing a tantrum as she put in a late bid, Eleanor Pemberton's icy displeasure did not have the full impact on Alethea that it might have had otherwise.
`Why don't you go upstairs and make a start on your packing?'
Maxine interrupted her mother, who had begun her castigation: 'Ungrateful. After all I've done for you ...'
Alethea shot her sister a grateful look. 'That might be an idea,' she murmured.
`I'll come and help,' Sadie volunteered.
`And me.'
With the help of Sadie and Georgia her packing took twice as long, but the two children were friends once more when Maxine arrived to get them ready for bed.
Alethea was making tea and toast the next morning when Maxine came down to the kitchen to see her. 'Have you got your forwarding address?' she asked.
`I'll let you have it later,' Alethea answered, hoping Maxine would think she couldn't remember it off hand. `You can always reach me at the office if you need to. Though I'll be back to see you all, naturally.'
`Don't be in too much of a hurry,' Maxine advised. `You should have moved out years ago,' she added, as Alethea stared at her in surprise. 'Spread your wings—live a little,' she urged, and added, laughing, 'And for
Heaven's sake forget every word of "good advice" your mother ever gave you.'
Alethea had to laugh too. 'Were you always this wicked?' she asked.
`Of course. You and me—we both take after Father.' `Do we?'
`Hell—love her though I do, and grateful though I am that she took me and the girls in—I'd cut my throat if I thought I took after Mother,' Maxine stated.
`You're incorrigible!' Alethea exclaimed, but added gently, 'You're also beginning to feel better, aren't you?'
Maxine nodded. 'It was hard, the initial break from Keith. But, thanks to you and your help in putting in a good word with his employer, I can stop worrying and start planning. I've had one chance, but there'll be other chances,' she said, sounding more positive than she had in a long while. 'But right now it's your chance.'
Chance? Alethea took her mother up a cup of tea. `I'll be in touch,' she offered gently.
`Don't bother on my account,' her mother answered sourly, and there seemed nothing more for Alethea to say.
With her car boot laden with cases, she drove to her place of work with very mixed feelings. Half of her started to feel elated the further she got away from her old home—at last she had made the break! She acknowledged she had been going to leave anyway, without Trent's untimely assistance—the other half of her wondered what she was getting into.
She seemed to function on automatic pilot that day; her mind was not a hundred percent on her work. She found something else to think about when she returned from her lunch break, however, when Nick Saunders stopped by her office on the way to his.
`Ah, I'm glad I've caught you,' he smiled.
Alethea remembered he had only joined the firm on Monday. 'How are you getting on?' she asked pleasantly.
`Enjoying everything,' he answered, and added, 'I've still got five minutes before I'm due back. So, on a non-work basis, I've theatre tickets for Saturday. Would you like to come?'
Nick Saunders was a nice enough man and Alethea liked the theatre. But the opportunity as to whether or not she would have considered his invitation was lost when she all at once realised that, by moving in with Trent, the freedom she had once had to go out with whom she pleased had just been severely curtailed.
`I'm sorry,' she apologised quickly, 'I'm busy this weekend.'
`I thought you would be; it was a long shot,' he said good-humouredly. 'I can see I shall have to ask a fortnight in advance.'
Nick Saunders went from her mind soon after he had disappeared back to his own office. But not the irksome fact he had left behind. Maxine had spoken of this being her chance; presumably she meant the chance to be free, to date or not, to make decisions without having to risk anyone's disapproval.
But what chance of freedom now? Somehow she didn't think it was part and parcel of Trent's idea that, while he was waiting the long wait for her to present herself in his room, other men should come ringing his doorbell calling for her.
Suddenly she frowned. What about him? Trent was a sophisticated, virile man. Whose doorbell would he be ringing while he waited? Oddly, she discovered that she did not care for the notion that Trent might feel free to date where he chose.
She pushed thoughts of him out of her mind, deciding that it was only natural, surely, that she should not care for him spending any nights out on the tiles while she lived with him—it was only common decency.
When five o'clock came around, Alethea admitted to a great reluctance to drive to Trent's home. It was too late now to start to have second thoughts about what she was doing, too late, at this stage, to be nervous.
`There's nothing more here that won't wait until morning,' Carol observed, picking up her bag. Bang went her excuse to work late.
She went out of the building with Carol, but when they parted Alethea still wasn't ready to drive to Trent's home. A delaying tactic it might be, but she had started to convince herself that he was bound to work late.
Not fancying sitting outside his address waiting for him to come home, Alethea went and had something to eat—and made it last until seven.
At half past seven, however, her nerves had reached such a pitch that she was inwardly all of a tremble. Alethea reached his door. She rang the bell and, trying hard not to think about what she was doing, she waited.
She did not have to wait long. The evil moment was
at hand. She heard him at the other side of the door. Then saw him But he did not look at all pleased to see her!
And that was just what she needed. 'Did I get it wrong?' she demanded, surveying his stern expression. `Wrong?' he clipped.
`If there's no room at the inn I can easily—' His face creased into a sudden grin at her spirit, causing her to break off.
`What, and miss the chance of a lifetime?' he countered, suddenly good-humoured as he revealed, 'I expected you before this. I have to go out.'
`Oh, I'm sorry,' she apologised at once, but began to wonder what this man was doing to her. While she experienced a feeling of great relief that she didn't have to spend her evening with him, she also felt a touch peeved that on this, her first evening in his home, he had to go out. She hoped his lady had a flat doorbell battery, whoever she was.
`Not to worry,' Trent answered casually. And, whether he was late for his 'appointment' or not, he enquired practically, 'You do have luggage?'
`In the boot.'
With Trent doing the lion's share of the carrying, they emptied her car. 'We might as well take your cases straight up,' he stated, and, with him leading the way, Alethea nervously followed up the stairs.
There were one or t
wo very nice pictures on the walls, she noticed as they went up to the next landing. But just then looking at pictures was not her first priority.
Trent took her along the landing and opened the door of a room a couple of doors down. Going in, he deposited the two cases he was carrying down onto the lushly piled cream carpet.
Her nerves were showing, she knew that they were, as she put down the smaller case she was carrying, her glance skimming over the rest of the exquisite furniture and furnishings and fixing on the double bed.
`D-did you make it? The b-bed, I mean?' she asked jerkily, realising that her attempt at casual conversation was a disaster.
`Mrs Wheeler comes in Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays,' Trent answered, and then, giving her a sharp,
all-assessing look, suggested, 'Let me show you the rest of the house,' and led the way from her room.
Strangely, when she thought he would have made a point of showing her in which room he slept, he did nothing of the kind. Instead, leaving the bedroom area, he showed her over the rest of the house.
`Mrs Wheeler has left a casserole to be heated up, and there's salad in the fridge,' he informed her when they ended up in the kitchen. It seemed churlish to mention that she had already eaten. 'I usually start my day early, so help yourself to anything you fancy for breakfast.' She wasn't expected to get up and get him his, then!
While awarding him a few merit points on that account, Alethea found herself again in that topsy-turvy world which she had become familiar with since knowing Trent. For, while she was starting to feel relieved that, by the sound of it, she would be fast asleep when he returned home, and that she would not see him in the morning either, at the same time she experienced a most peculiar irritated sensation; it seemed a flat doorbell battery would be no deterrent to his nocturnal activities.
`Here's a key to the front door,' Trent stated matter-of-factly, taking a key from his pocket and handing it to her. And, checking his watch, he added, 'I've just time to show you where to garage your car, then I must be off.'
Alethea went back upstairs after he had gone. It was strange being on her own as she started to unpack her belongings. She was in the act of taking some of her toiletries into the adjoining bathroom when she suddenly realised exactly why. There was peace and quiet!
Probably because she was minus her two 'helpers', it took her much less time to empty her cases than it had taken to fill them. Once done, though, and everything
neat and tidy, she went downstairs to the kitchen and made herself a coffee. While trying to absorb the feel of Trent's elegant home, she all at once found that she was quite enjoying the silence.
That would never do, she realised, and swiftly washed and dried her cup and saucer, tidied the already tidy kitchen, and returned upstairs to bed.
Her bed was comfortable, but she had not expected to sleep and did not. It was bothersome lying there awake in the darkened room. Alethea knew that she was growing tense again as she waited for Trent to come home.
She tried to tell herself that she had nothing to worry about. For goodness' sake, Trent had more about him than to come into her room the minute he came home and set about assuaging the desire he'd intimated he had for her.
Intimated! Grief, he had more than intimated. Why did she think he wanted her there in his home? And what did she know of him anyway? What did she know of any man, or how to handle the circumstance she was in?
Alethea was trying desperately to be calm, when she heard the outer door quietly open and close. Trent was home! She listened, her ears attuned for every sound. She heard faint footsteps that indicated he had made it to the top of the landing, then her straining ears picked up the sound of him coming nearer.
His footsteps would stop when they reached his door, she knew. But—they didn't! Her heart seemed to stop altogether when he came to her door and halted. Her nerves were at screaming-pitch when she heard the handle being turned! She was staring at the door when it opened and a shaft of light silhouetted Trent from behind. Her heart went instantly from stop to rapid thunder when
she saw his tall outline standing there. Swiftly she closed her eyes, feigning sleep.
Then, however, while her heart was thudding so loudly she thought Trent must hear it, she heard her door quietly being closed again. Her eyes shot wide—she was alone!
Alethea lay in tense silence for another ten minutes before she dared allow herself to relax. She jumped nervously at the first sound of movement in the next-door room. Then she heard other faint muffled noises. Then silence.
As Alethea started to unwind she knew that she had been right in her first thoughts about Trent. True, he had come into her room, but it was also true that Trent had much more about him than to set about slaking any desire he felt for her the moment he came home.
She closed her eyes—and was astonished to find that when she opened them again, it was morning! Amazed that she had slept soundly and dreamlessly and that, after her initial scare, she had not continued to lie there fearing that Trent might return, Alethea could hardly believe she'd had such a good night's rest. She'd never slept as well as that in her old home!
A sound of the outer door closing jerked her into an awareness that today was a working day and that Trent had already left to start his. She checked the digital clock radio by the side of the bed. Heavens! It wasn't seven o'clock yet!
`Work!' she said determinedly, but, since living closer to her job meant she didn't have to leave as early as before, she decided she would have a cup of tea first and then go and get showered and ready.
Donning her blue fluffy dressing gown and blue slippers, Alethea left her room and went down the stairs.
She had got no further than the hall, though, when the sound of a key in the door-lock caused her to freeze.
Like someone hypnotised, she stared at the door as Trent, business-suited and briefcase in hand, came in. `I thought you'd gone!' she exclaimed.
She stared up at him from wide violet eyes. He was close, unnerving—and she felt foolish. 'I had,' he answered, his dark eyes fixed on her.
Alethea felt too mesmerised to move. 'Did you forget something?' she asked. She had meant to say it lightly, but her voice came out sounding husky.
Trent looked at her a few moments more, but as she started to become exceedingly conscious of her tousled hair and the fact that she wasn't wearing a scrap of makeup, he smiled.
It was a gentle smile. 'I did,' he replied, and, as if charmed by what he saw, he stared down at her a moment longer. Then, before she could break out of her trance, he had placed his briefcase on the hall table and caught a quiet hold of her. His head came nearer and she still couldn't move. 'You look all warm and cuddlesome,' he murmured, and, his arms coming about her, Alethea felt his mouth over hers.
She didn't think she kissed him back, but was so confused again that she couldn't be sure. She felt oddly safe in his arms, secure, and her heart was pounding. 'You're going to be late for work,' she found her husky voice to inform him. Grief, it still wasn't seven in the morning yet, and he was the boss, so what did it matter that he might be a little adrift on time? Feeling foolish again, she moved to be free of his arms.
Trent let her go immediately. 'Oh—we can't have that,' he teased—and went.
Having earlier set her course kitchenwards, it was in the kitchen Alethea eventually found herself. She sank down onto a chair, realising that instinct must have guided her in that direction because her thoughts were fully taken up elsewhere.
Last night she had been scared and fearful. But, just now, Trent had kissed her and she hadn't felt in the least afraid. Indeed, far from feeling scared and fearful, his kiss, astoundingly, had made her feel a little exhilarated!
She stood up and shook her head slowly once, from side to side, as if to deny it. Then, forgetting every bit about that cup of tea, she said out loud, `Tosh !' Determining to find a place of her own soonest, she went upstairs to get ready to go to work.
CHAPTER SIX
&
nbsp; ONE of the first things Alethea did when she got to her office was to ring through to the accommodation section and ask them to amend her file from 'fairly urgent' to just plain 'urgent'. Then work took over.
She had lunch out, worked late, and went home to the house she temporarily shared with Trent—to find that he was working even later. Either that, or he had an early 'appointment' with someone. Huh! As if she cared!
She went upstairs to change. He could have phoned to say he'd be late. Alethea shrugged out of her office suit and put on jeans and a shirt, and went down the stairs again, admitting to herself yet again that she felt herself to be a mass of contradictions.
Where would he phone, for goodness' sake? Her office? She'd love that, wouldn't she? She'd just about die of embarrassment if Carol took a call from Trent's PA and then, prior to switching the call to her desk, told her that Mr Trenton de Havilland was wanting to speak to her. Grief! It didn't bear thinking about.
Alethea made herself a drink and a sandwich, watched a half-hour of television, but couldn't settle. At nine o'clock she had definitely decided that Trent was off on some doorbell-ringing activity and that she didn't give tuppence about that, when she heard his key in the door.
She decided she had things to do in her room. She was on her feet ready to walk, when, briefcase in hand,
Trent came into the drawing room. They both halted, and stared at each other.
He looks tired, she thought, and only then did she take into account the work hours he'd put in that day. `Can I get you something?' she asked impulsively, not having meant to offer any such help.
After a surprised moment he found a half-smile. It was as if, accustomed to fending for himself, he was pleased that she should so offer. 'You're lovely in person as well as body,' he said. Coming closer, he added, 'And I think I'm going to enjoy living with you.'
Don't get used to it, I'm not going to be around that long! 'Have you had anything to eat?' she asked, not from impulse this time, but more so that he should know she had no wish whatsoever to discuss anything to do with his enjoyment of living with her.
The Trouble with Trent! Page 8