The Innocent's One-Night Confession

by Sara Craven

  ‘Yes,’ Alanna said slowly. ‘I suppose we will.’

  But whatever happens, she told herself determinedly, as she returned to her desk, I intend to remain part of the team.

  The rumour mill was in full flow during the week, but Alanna kept her head down and her mind strictly on the scripts in front of her, refusing to be distracted by speculation on the effects of the takeover, even when she was told that members of the TiMar board were arriving the following Monday for negotiations.

  It’s all in the lap of the gods, she told herself, and fussing about it will do no good at all, especially when I have more personal problems to consider.

  As she’d left work the night before, she’d found Gerard waiting at reception.

  ‘Hi. I was hoping we could have dinner together.’

  ‘Not this evening.’ She indicated the leather case hanging from her shoulder. ‘I have some preliminary reads to do asap.’

  ‘Then how about an equally preliminary drink.’ He smiled at her then added quietly, ‘We really need to talk.’

  How quickly things could change, she thought without pleasure. A week ago, I’d probably have accepted like a shot.

  She made herself smile back. ‘Then a drink it is.’

  When they were settled in a nearby wine bar, she sipped her spritzer and asked, ‘What’s so urgent?’

  Gerard examined the colour of his own glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, and frowned. ‘My aunt Caroline. She’s telephoned me twice and called in at the shop, wanting to know why our engagement has not yet featured in the broadsheets. Hoping it means we’ve come to our senses and rethought the whole thing.’

  ‘I see.’ Alanna paused. ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘That we needed to tell your parents first, but they were currently abroad.’ He pulled a face. ‘Another lie. I seem to have an aptitude for them.’

  She bit her lip. ‘Maybe it’s time for the truth.’

  ‘In which case we’ll both look like idiots, and I’ll be back at square one.’ He shook his head. ‘No, I think we should stick to our agreement, which, of course, means you having a word with your family. Are you seeing them any time soon?’

  She hesitated. ‘I’d planned to go down this weekend. That’s why I’m trying to clear my decks.’

  ‘That’s a great idea,’ he approved eagerly. ‘Shall I come with you?’

  ‘Good God, no.’ She saw by his expression that she’d spoken too vehemently, and tried to temper her response. ‘I’m sorry, but at the moment, they barely know you exist. Only that I’ve been seeing someone. I—I’d need to—to prepare the ground first.’

  ‘Well, you know best.’ He paused again. ‘However, Aunt Caroline has also invited us to dinner next week. Friday or Saturday, she suggests. What do you think?’

  That I’d rather dive head-first into a pond of piranhas...

  Aloud, she said slowly, ‘Well—that’s very kind of her as well as rather unexpected. I can manage both evenings, so you decide.’

  ‘Then let’s make it Saturday. But we’ll need to go shopping first.’

  ‘I can do that. What would she prefer—flowers or chocolates?’

  He shook his head. ‘I meant shopping for a ring. She’ll expect you to be wearing one.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ She thought for a moment, then nodded. ‘And I will be. My grandmother left me her engagement ring, an opal and diamond cluster. It’s in my bedroom at home, so I’ll bring it back with me.’

  ‘I’m quite prepared to buy you something suitable,’ he began, but she stopped him.

  ‘Not as things are,’ she said firmly, and, as he hesitated, hoped with all her heart that he wouldn’t reply, ‘But they may change.’

  But all he said was, ‘Fine, we’ll play it your way,’ and left what she knew was ‘For the time being,’ hovering in the ether.

  There was an editorial meeting on Friday afternoon which dragged on interminably, thanks to Louis who was clearly hell-bent on establishing himself as the future head of fiction under any new regime and turned even the most minor of decisions into a full debate.

  So Alanna, fuming, was forced to change her plans and catch the Saturday morning train instead.

  It was promising to be a beautiful weekend, warm and sunny with only the slightest of breezes, and as she walked up from the station, she felt the tensions of the past week gently slipping away.

  As she walked up the path to the cottage, she became aware of voices in the back garden. It was no surprise to find visitors. Her mother and father, after all, joined fully in village life, so she made sure she was smiling dutifully as she rounded the house and saw them sitting with their guest at the table on the lawn, with coffee much in evidence.

  Saw—and stopped dead, her shocked mind in freefall as she registered the identity of the newcomer, now rising politely to his feet, tall and lithe in faded jeans and a black polo shirt, his silver eyes glinting as they skimmed over her absorbing every detail of the sleeveless white blouse she’d teamed with a brief button-through skirt in dark green linen.

  ‘Alanna, darling,’ her mother greeted her buoyantly. ‘Come and meet Mr Varga. He saw us in the front garden and stopped his car to ask for directions. We got talking—and here we are.’

  Zandor said softly, ‘But, amazingly, I believe that your daughter and I have already met—quite recently at a party, wasn’t it? But perhaps you’ve forgotten.’

  She managed to keep her voice steady. ‘On the contrary, Mr Varga, I remember you perfectly well.’ She walked slowly forward. ‘But what on earth are you doing in this locality?’

  ‘House-hunting,’ he said, and she felt her steps falter.

  Before she could stop herself, she said hoarsely, ‘You have to be joking.’

  ‘Alanna.’ Her father spoke reprovingly. ‘Mr Varga is perfectly serious.’

  She sank, flushing, onto the remaining chair, numbly accepting the coffee her mother had poured for her, praying at the same time that the cup would not rattle on its saucer and betray the fact that her hand was shaking.

  She struggled to sound calm. ‘I meant—why here, in deepest Sleepyville, of all unlikely places?’

  Zandor shrugged, unruffled. ‘Let’s just say I’m tired of living out of a suitcase,’ he said, his ironic glance reminding her that she’d seen the evidence of this for herself a year before.

  She looked back at him defiantly. ‘I’d have thought London would be your preferred habitat.’

  ‘I’ll have a place there too, but I plan to divide my time.’ Zandor glanced round, drawing a deep, appreciative breath. ‘Especially on weekends like this.’

  ‘Mr Varga is on his way to view Leahaven Manor,’ Mrs. Beckett put in. ‘But he must have taken a wrong turning. It’s easily done.’

  I’ll drink to that, Alanna thought grimly and swallowed a mouthful of coffee.

  ‘But how strange that you and Alanna should already have encountered each other,’ her father said cheerfully. ‘And at a party, too, which is really good news.’ He turned to his wife. ‘For a while we were afraid she was turning into a total recluse, weren’t we, darling?’

  Just when I believed things couldn’t get any worse, thought Alanna, smothering a groan.

  She forced a smile. ‘Dad, that’s a total exaggeration, and you know it.’

  ‘We know what we’ve seen with our own eyes, as well as what Susie told us,’ Mr Beckett retorted robustly. ‘That this past year, you’ve hardly bothered with a social life, never going out in the evenings and spending nearly every weekend down here.’ He shook his head. ‘So unlike yourself, sweetheart. Almost as if you were hiding.’

  ‘It was just extra-busy at work,’ she interrupted hastily, before he could offer any more damaging revelations. ‘And with all this talk of a take-over, I felt I needed to demonstrate my commitment. Make sure I kept my job. You know that.’

  ‘Ah, but you know what they say about all work and no play,’ Zandor said softly. He smiled with great charm. ‘Although no
one could ever describe you as dull.’

  Why was he doing this? she asked herself fiercely. And what in hell were my parents thinking of to allow a complete stranger into their home like this, whatever the pretext?

  Oh, God, she thought, if they only knew how we really met. How I made a total fool of myself, behaving like a complete slut, and risking my entire future as well as their peace of mind into the bargain. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

  But he wouldn’t be sitting here drinking coffee, that’s for sure.

  Her mother was speaking. ‘I’m sure you’ll like the manor, Mr Varga. Late Georgian and a little jewel.’ She sighed. ‘It’s sad that Colonel Winslow decided to sell, but he was already a widower when poor Toby was killed in Iraq, and I suppose he felt he had nothing to stay for.’

  ‘Of course,’ Zandor said quietly. ‘Has he moved locally?’

  ‘No, to Australia. His daughter Clare is married to a sheep farmer in New South Wales and there are grandchildren now. They’ve been trying to persuade him to join them for ages.’

  She paused. ‘But you mustn’t think it’s an unhappy house, because I promise you it’s not. It’s full of good family memories.’

  He smiled at her. ‘You are quite a saleswoman, Mrs Beckett. Would you care to continue the good work and accompany me to the viewing? I’d value a female perspective.’

  ‘I’d have loved to,’ she said regretfully. ‘But it’s the village art show this afternoon and Harry and I are going down to the hall presently to help set up.’

  ‘And possibly prevent internecine warfare,’ her husband added with a chuckle. He hesitated. ‘But Alanna’s not involved, so she could go with you—deliver the woman’s angle. And we could meet up in The King’s Arms later to hear the verdict over a ploughman’s.’

  ‘Naturally, I would be glad of her company.’ Zandor turned to her. ‘If, of course, she is willing.’

  The words seemed to hover in the air...

  Alanna said tautly, ‘I’m sure you don’t need outside help to make your decisions, Mr Varga.’

  ‘Oh, please,’ he said. ‘When we met before, it was Zandor or even—Zan. Or have you forgotten?’

  He allowed the silence to lengthen, then added, ‘But this time I would welcome another opinion, besides ensuring that I don’t get lost again.’

  She was aware that her parents were watching her expectantly. Her mother, in particular, might indeed have had ‘Eligible Bachelor’ tattooed across her forehead, she decided bitterly, concealing a shudder.

  Because I’m the one who seems to be lost, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

  From somewhere, she produced a smile. ‘Well we can’t risk that,’ she said. Or you might move in. ‘So, shall we go?’

  And somehow walked with him out to where his car was waiting.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AS HE STARTED the car, she said icily, ‘Do you really have as much as a passing interest in Leahaven Manor, or are you just stalking me?’

  ‘The agents’ details are in the glove compartment,’ he returned as they drove off.

  ‘That isn’t what I asked.’

  ‘Then, yes, I do have an interest,’ he said. ‘Quite a strong one. Although I can see you object to the idea of having me as a neighbour.’

  ‘I can manage to maintain an adequate distance,’ she said. ‘Even if you have managed to charm my mother and father.’

  ‘And even though we’re going to be related by marriage? Something your parents appear unaware of,’ he went on musingly. ‘I dropped Gerard’s name casually into the conversation and got no reaction whatsoever. I found that strange. I also note you’re not wearing a ring.’

  ‘Well, please don’t concern yourself,’ she returned curtly. ‘All that is due to change very soon. We’re simply waiting for the right moment.’

  ‘Of course,’ Zandor said cordially. ‘Just as you did last weekend. Now, why didn’t I think of that?’

  She didn’t venture a response, just sat staring bleakly at the passing countryside.

  In spite of herself, she was impressed by the power of the Lamborghini and, more annoyingly, by his effortless ability to handle it through the narrow lanes. Not to mention his newly acquired gift of finding his way without hesitation, she thought bitterly.

  Eventually, she broke the silence. ‘How did you find out where my family live? From Gerard, I suppose, or Joanne,’ she added bitterly, although she couldn’t remember mentioning the village by name to either of them.

  He shrugged a shoulder. ‘It wasn’t too difficult,’ he returned.

  Which left her none the wiser but made her wonder whether it was his wish to see the manor which had prompted him to seek her out, or the other way round.

  Whatever, she could not allow it to matter, she told herself with determination. Because he would eventually get tired of this cat and mouse game he was playing. She had to believe that.

  Just as she had to assure herself that her mock-engagement would soon be over, leaving her free of all the Harrington clan—a moment that couldn’t arrive too quickly to suit her.

  Free also to meet someone and develop a relationship which might ripen into real love. A man, with whom there’d be no shameful back history to regret, and whom she’d want to introduce to her parents. And who would not bear the remotest resemblance to the man seated beside her, in apparent control of the situation as well as the car.

  As for now, when her mother began to ask the inevitable gentle questions, she would simply laugh and say that Zandor Varga was definitely not her type, besides having love interests on most of the continents of the known world. Currently someone called Lili...

  Which was no more than the truth, she added defensively. And the truth would set her free. Somehow.

  To add to her troubles, the estate agent waiting on the gravel sweep in front of the house was Jerry Morris, now a partner in his father’s firm, but whose relentless pursuit of her during one summer vacation she’d finally ended with a hard kick on his shins.

  His eyes now narrowed speculatively and without warmth when he saw her, suggesting this would be a juicy item to share with the lounge bar mob in the King’s Head tonight.

  But he was brisk and businesslike as he led the way to the front door with its pillared portico.

  Alanna hung back a little, admiring the warmth of the manor’s red brick and its clean classic lines, so like the pictures of the ideal house she’d drawn as a child, apart, of course, from the third storey attics which had housed the servants.

  My dreams, she thought wryly, were never that grand.

  And still aren’t, she added, her lips tightening as she followed the two men into a well-proportioned hall with a black and white tiled floor and an elegant staircase curving gently upwards to the left.

  All the furniture had been removed and there was already the faint mustiness of disuse in the empty rooms, but no discernible tang of damp.

  Zandor said little as they explored the ground floor, but took his time, the silver eyes sombre as they observed the discoloured rectangles on the walls where pictures including family portraits must have once hung, the views from the tall uncurtained windows, and the vacant expanse of oak shelves in the Colonel’s former library at the back of the house.

  A green baize door led to the large old-fashioned kitchen with its adjacent scullery and pantries, as well as a boot room and what had been used as the gun room.

  ‘All this will need updating, of course, but we feel this is reflected in the price,’ Jerry Morris said brightly. ‘The door ahead of you opens straight into the stable yard and fuel stores, and there’s an archway which leads to the kitchen garden and a small orchard.’

  He paused. ‘Do you have horses, Mr Varga?’

  ‘One, but I plan to have more.’

  ‘Excellent,’ was the hearty reply. ‘Now for the bedrooms, six in all on the first floor, one en suite, and another used in the past as a nursery.’ His gaze flickered towards Alanna. ‘Shall we po
p up and have a look?’

  I am popping nowhere, thought Alanna. She said coolly, ‘I think I’d rather have a stroll outside,’ and waited while Jerry made a business of unlocking the rear door.

  Outside, she paused for a moment, steadying the odd flurry of her breathing, as she stared across at the empty loose boxes, visualising them occupied, with inquisitive, hopeful heads observing her approach with a handful of apple or carrot.

  Altogether too much imagination, that’s your problem, she told herself as she turned away. That’s why you were mentally redecorating those rooms in clear pastels, and choosing retro cabinets and a massive central table for the kitchen, refashioning it into the heart of the house, when, in reality, the transformation was not hers to make.

  She found the kitchen garden sadly neglected and overgrown as she wandered down its central path. Dad would have a wonderful time conducting a salvage operation, she thought, pausing to pick a sprig of mint and roll it between her fingers, inhaling its fragrance. Pity he won’t get the chance.

  She paused for a moment, looking back and sighing faintly. Because it was indeed a lovely house, spacious but not overwhelming, needing only some tender loving care to make it spectacular again.

  But Zandor was a man living his life on a here today, gone tomorrow basis, and would have neither the time nor the patience to restore the manor to its former glory.

  He’d want instant results—somewhere totally ready for occupation, and with more show than substance, she decided as she opened the wrought iron gate into the orchard.

  This at least was surviving well, promising a good crop of apples in a couple of months’ time. But who would be here to pick them?

  The grass felt dry and springy under her feet as she walked slowly, lifting her face to the sun dappling through the clustering leaves. Some of the trees bore faint labels—Cox, Worcester and Bramley—while, at the far end, the largest tree, old now and bare of fruit, had a wooden swing attached by chains to one of its thick gnarled branches.

  Toby and Clare would have played here, she thought sadly, and the swing had been left waiting for Toby’s children in their turn—except an ambush in a dusty desert town had destroyed that possibility, turning a family home into an empty shell.