The Vital Spark

by Carson, Angela

  It was calm when she woke the next morning. The sun gleamed from a clear sky that showed no hint of its sullen anger of the night before. Defiantly she dressed in her working gear, the same jeans she had on the day before, and a clean blue shirt. It had got long sleeves, and she rolled them up past her elbows out of the way, presenting a workmanlike picture as she went downstairs to breakfast.

  `I'll bring the coffee through in a minute, Miss Lee',' Nell called out to her as she passed the kitchen door. 'Mr Scott isn't down yet.'

  `If he's not quick, we'll have our breakfast without him,' Lee muttered. There was the day's batch of tomatoes to pick, and the chores to do around the greenhouses, and if Haydn thought he could treat the place like an hotel he would shortly find his mistake, she thought ungraciously. She glowered out of the big, circular window that was like a porthole, and the only reminder of Polrewin's builder, an ex-naval captain who brought to his retirement a perpetual reminder of his career.

  `Unusual shape for a window,' Haydn observed appearing silently at her side, and she hunched her shoulders at his cheerful 'good morning', and refused to look at him.

  `It's a nuisance,' she said curtly. 'I like a windowsill I can lean my arms along, and there's no room for flower vases, either.'

  `You seem to have found plenty of substitutes.' Her guest's glance round the room rested on sweetly perfumed

  vases filled with a variety of both wild and cultivated blooms that brightened the dark furniture, and betrayed Lee's weakness at the same time, and to her annoyance he ignored her ill humour.

  `Here's your coffee, Miss Lee.' Nell bustled in with the aromatic brew, and added as she put it on the table, 'Mr Jon asked me to let you know he'd had his breakfast early and gone out into the glasshouses, so he can do the picking and be free to show you round later, sir.' She smiled at Haydn, and Lee smarted with silent chagrin. Even Nell seemed to have fallen for the man's charms, she thought cynically, aware that their guest had taken the trouble to seek out the housekeeper the evening before and congratulate her on their-perfectly cooked supper. 'Miss Lee will look after you, though,' she beamed, and left them, and Lee looked up to meet his quizzically raised eyebrows.

  `Aren't you going to ask me if there's anything I want this morning?' he asked her softly as they took their places opposite to one another at the table, and her colour rose with a rush.

  `If you want anything, you can help yourself,' she snapped, and then her eyes widened as a dawning grin lit his face, and she gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles showed white when he pushed his chair back, preparatory to getting up. 'Any breakfast, I mean,' she added hurriedly, and was unable to contain a small sigh of relief as he settled back into his chair with an exaggerated air of disappointment. 'There's a grill under the hot dish, or cold if you'd prefer it here,' she indicated a plate of ham within his reach.

  Confound Jon, she thought vexedly. I've got to stick it out now until he comes back, or Haydn finishes eating. From the leisurely way in which her companion tackled his breakfast, it looked as if he was going to go on all day. She fidgeted restlessly, crumbling her own sparse piece of toast into chips on her plate with sheer frustration while he helped himself to grilled bacon, mushrooms and kidneys, after first tasting Nell's hot creamy porridge, and then taking a second piece of toast and another cup of coffee, and all the while keeping up a steady flow of small talk. He

  questioned her about Polrewin, and what they intended to do there, until she could have screamed with impatience, but he seemed unaware of her reluctant response. Only the thought that he was her brother's invited guest kept her glued to her seat, and she answered in monosyllables, discouraging his searching questions as best she could.

  `You seem unusually interested in Polrewin,' she said coldly nt last, and he looked at her, as if surprised.

  `Jon knew I would be, that's why he wrote me when he first inherited it,' Haydn retorted, and she flared.

  `When we first inherited it,' she corrected him tersely.

  `I stand corrected,' he acknowledged gravely, then added with a fine bite in his voice, 'I can see this morning that you must be a working partner.' His eyes flicked over her severely practical garb, and Lee bit her lip angrily.

  `Feminine frills aren't much use when you're picking and sorting tomatoes and things,' she said bluntly, and scowled at the lazy smile that formed in his eyes even before it tilted the edges of his well cut lips.

  `The feminine frills I saw looked becoming enough last night,' he reminded her softly, 'or was it in the early hours of this morning? I don't remember.' His grin taunted her.

  `Sorry I couldn't join you for breakfast.' To her relief Jon came in and saved her from having to reply. But I'm free now for a bit, we can have a look round,' he invited Haydn, and seemed quite oblivious of the strained atmosphere that fairly crackled between his two companions.

  `In that case, I'll....' Lee began, and pushed her chair against the table, prepared to make a hurried exit.

  `Nell said she'd cope inside today, and leave you free as well,' Jon told her happily. 'If you come with us, you can fill Haydn in with the bits I forget,' he offered accommodatingly.

  `It looks like being an interesting tour,' Haydn said smoothly, and held open the door for Lee to precede him, with a slight bow that brought a cheerful grin to Jon's face as he cast a glance at his sister, and a scowl to Lee's. Jon might think his friend gallant, but Lee caught the mocking glint in the amber gaze that challenged her to accompany them. Or challenged her to refuse? She gave an impatient

  sigh and walked on to the gravel outside, and took a couple of deep breaths to steady her, taking in the clear air that had been cooled wine-sharp by the storm of the night before.

  `It's great, isn't it?' Haydn came to stand beside her, and she could see the movement as his rib cage expanded under the thin cream silk of his shirt.

  `It'd be even better on your boat,' Lee suggested tautly, but her barbed hint did not even dent his calm self-possession.

  `You must come down and put it to the test,' he retorted smoothly, 'both of you—I'll be staying around for a day or two in any case.'

  `There's not much to see around Tarmouth,' Lee began inhospitably, and he interrupted her with a meaningful remark.

  `I've got—er—an interest in the area,' he said obliquely, and turning to Jon made a comment about the green, houses as they walked towards them, leaving Lee wondering what was behind his statement. She lagged behind the two men slightly, and puzzled over it. There was nothing around Tarmouth that might even remotely interest a man like Haydn. She watched his tall, flat-hipped figure striding out beside her brother with the same lithe ease that he had walked the guard rails of his boat the day before. He had mentioned he was thinking of expanding his mail order business, but Tarmouth was not a commercial town. Its main industries were fishing or flower farming, and the visitors and artists who flocked there during the summer months were an added bonus and an extra income for the residents, but that was all.

  `Your vines look healthy.' Haydn reached out an interested hand and took a half ripe tomato. He rubbed it briefly with his handkerchief and bit into it.

  `Cheek !' Lee muttered under her breath, and felt a momentary qualm as he slewed a glance at her, but he could not have heard what she said. I don't care if he did, she thought mutinously. It was cheek, to pick someone else's fruit without even asking permission first.

  Mmm, the flavour's good.'

  So he was a connoisseur of food as well, was he? she thought sarcastically.

  `A bit on the small side, though.' He .gazed at the trusses on the rest of the vine with a critical eye.

  `They suit the market they're intended for.' She could not keep silent and listen to such comments. 'They go like hot cakes,' she repeated Betty Dunn's words triumphantly.

  `I'm sure they do.' He spoke indulgently, as if he was humouring her, and her anger mounted.

  `We send all our stock to the local greengrocer, and he sells it to the car
avan site. They prefer smaller tomatoes, because of the children,' Lee told him flatly. She could not think why it was because of the children, but she vaguely remembered Mr Dunn saying something of the kind. She found she could not think clearly anyway, with Haydn looking at her like that.

  He finished the fruit and chewed silently for a minute or two, then, 'Do you send all your stock to the one greengrocer, Jon?'

  `At the moment, yes. His monthly cheque's been a godsend,' Jon said fervently. 'It's helped to keep us afloat.'

  `Fine, but it might pay you to branch out a bit when you expand,' Haydn said seriously. 'If you think about it,' he thrust teak-coloured hands deep into the pockets of his beautifully tailored cream slacks. Lee noticed the leg that had been splattered with sand and water by the child's kick the day before showed no sign now of ill-use, which meant they were probably the expensive, stain-resistant as well as crease-resistant kind. 'You must admit, it's a closed sort of market,' Haydn went on. 'You've only got one outlet, and your man relies on purely seasonal trade, like caravans, for the bulk of his outlet.' He stopped significantly, and Jon nodded.

  `I see what you mean,' he acknowledged, thoughtful in his turn.

  `There's another thing,' Haydn went on, 'you've got a lot of wasted space in your glasshouses.'

  `Wasted space?' Lee burst out indignantly, her glance ranging round the tightly packed beds. 'Where on earth

  could you find another inch to put plants, without overcrowding them?'

  `In the roof,' Haydn answered imperturbably. 'You could have got a crop of strawberries from up there if you'd got stretchers, and an arrangement of ropes and pulleys. I'll show you when we get back to the house, and I can sketch it out on paper for you,' he offered.

  `We can't possibly let Mr Dunn's contract go, Jon.' Lee turned to her brother anxiously, ignoring the strawberries. `Where else could we sell our produce if we broke with the greengrocer?' Panic touched her at the thought of the loss of Mr Dunn's monthly cheque.

  `Covent Garden?' Haydn suggested, and she turned on him angrily.

  `Covent Garden !' she repeated, with withering scorn. `From an outfit the size of Polrewin? You must be out of your mind !'

  `He does know what he's talking about, Sis,' Jon began, taken aback at her outburst.

  `Does he?' Lee shot back at him furiously. 'What does he know about this trade?' she demanded. 'His job is photography. He said so himself.'

  The sheer effrontery of the man took her breath away. If Jon listened to his suggestions he might easily ruin their efforts. They had both worked hard to put Polrewin on a firm footing, but it was a foundation that was still vulnerable, and could crumble as easily if they had a severe setback. Her eyes filled with angry tears at the thought of losing Polrewin, because of this stranger's arrogant inter-, ference.

  `Photography, yes, but it's all to do with his father's business,' Jon tried again, placatingly.

  `And what is his father's business?' she asked stormily, in no way appeased.

  `He's Haydn Scott, Lee....'

  `I know, you introduced us,' she retorted crushingly, incensed by her brother's assumption that everyone ought to recognise the man's name.

  `He's the son of the founder of Scott's, the nursery garden people on the Channel Islands. You must have seen

  their boxed produce,' Jon insisted, and his words stilled the angry rejoinder trembling on the tip of her tongue.

  Haydn Scott ... the Channel Islands. For a moment Lee felt her senses swim. Why had she not connected the two? The enormity of her faux pas began to dawn on her. This man came from people who were specialists—highly successful specialists. A vision of a perky little kilted figure, with bagpipes, and tartan ribbons flying, crossed her shocked mind. It was the trademark of the biggest chain of nursery gardens in the south.

  `I—I—didn't connect the two.' She forced the words through tight lips. She did not want to look at Haydn, did not want to see the sarcastic smile that no doubt lit his face as humiliated colour flooded her cheeks, and the angry tears of a moment ago turned to tears of mortification that she refused to let fall in front of him. One crept unwillingly over her lashes, and she flicked at it angrily, pretending it was a fly.

  `Why should you? Scott's a common enough name,' he asked her mildly, and she sent him a surprised stare, and found no sarcasm in his face, only a look of grave interest that must be occasioned by what he had seen in the glasshouses. She realised now the reason for his interest, it was a common one to them all.

  `Mr Jon, can you spare a minute? I want to know what to do about this fertiliser.' Ben, their only male help, came into the glasshouse, and stopped nonplussed when he saw Haydn. 'Sorry, I didn't know you'd got someone with you,' he apologised.

  `Never mind,' Jon told him good humouredly, 'I'll come and see to what you want, and join you later, Haydn, if you don't mind?' He turned back to his friend. 'Carry on showing him round, Lee, and I'll catch up with you.' And he turned and quitted the glasshouse, leaving Lee and Haydn alone.

  `Shall we call a truce, and carry on the tour of inspection?' Haydn suggested gently, and his eyes smiled down at her, seemingly without guile. She took a deep breath and nodded; she could not speak, and the knowledge did nothing to help her poise. Something happened to her knees

  when Haydn looked at her like that.

  It's because I've had no breakfast, she told herself hardily. She never went without breakfast unless she was sick, and that was such a rare occurrence it almost never happened. Until this morning.

  `Let's go outside.' Suddenly the greenhouse seemed too small. Even the light from the high roof was darkened by Haydn's tall figure, and she felt a claustrophobic sense of suffocation that made her want to run blindly away from him

  `The ground stretches quite a way,' he commented after they had walked the length of one field in silence, and three more still stretched out in front of them before the edge of the cliff. 'It's quite a lot bigger than I imagined.'

  `It's big enough for the two of us to handle.' She relaxed slightly. So far he had made no comment on her behaviour, which she was uncomfortably conscious had been less than perfect towards a guest under their roof, but then so had his towards her. Guests did not usually kiss their hostesses. At least, not in that way.... The memory of it brought the traitorous colour to her cheeks again, and she spoke hurriedly.

  `We're thinking of having two more glasshouses when we can afford them.' She did not try to hide the fact that they were having to inch their way along at the moment, it must have been self-evident to Haydn in any case, she thought wearily.

  `Before you buy them, Jon might like to come over to the Islands and have a look at the ones we've got,' he suggested. He did not invite her to go along as well, Lee noticed, but she made no comment other than a slight shrug, and he went on, 'We run several different kinds for the different types of produce.'

  `As well as stretchers for strawberries,' she could not .resist reminding him, and he gave her a keen look, and nodded,

  `As well as stretchers for strawberries. We can't afford wasted space and heat any more than you can,' he pointed out reasonably.

  `I thought Jon said you had a chain of gardens.' She

  could not resist the thrust, and the glint returned to his eyes as he responded.

  `So we have, but the larger the outfit the larger the loss if you allow space to go to waste.' It was logical, she knew, but somehow it still had the power to annoy her. The very sureness of the man made Polrewin look even smaller and shabbier than it had before. Or was she merely seeing it through a stranger's eyes for the first time?.

  `Jon might find it a help to see how our gardens work.' He spoke of gardens in the plural, casually, indifferently, and Lee felt her temper stir within her again. She and Jon did not want Haydn's patronage. They had done well enough so far on their own, and she fully intended that they should go on doing so. Without his interference. They would expand in their own good time, when they could afford to, Silently she determined
not to let Haydn Scott hurry Jon into expanding too quickly. Too many businesses overreached themselves too soon, of that she was well aware, and the result was usually bankruptcy. The mere thought of it sent cold shivers down her spine.

  `I doubt he'll have time, at least this year,' she told her companion firmly, and his lips tightened.

  `That's for Jon to say,' he said evenly.

  `Not entirely, I'm his partner,' she retorted, and she lifted her chin defiantly. The move brought her head back, so that she looked up and straight into his eyes, though she had to tilt her chin even higher to meet them when he straightened his shoulders. The move brought a subtle change to his expression, and her own was suddenly uncertain as his face hardened, and the familiar glint returned to his eyes.

  `Then it's time he brought you under control,' he told her sternly, and with an impatient movement he pulled her to him. For two pins I'd treat you the same as I treated that lad on the beach yesterday. It's a lesson you both need,' he said grimly, and Lee gave a gasp as she remembered his words on the harbour wall, about the third lesson the boy should have learned.

  `It's dangerous to cross my path....'

  `D-don't you d-dare....' Instinctively her hands went

  back to cover her seat. The sound of the smacks he administered yesterday still rang in her ears.

  `I'm not going to spank you, though it's what you deserve,' he told her roughly. 'There are other ways of taming people.'