He laughed furiously. 'Oh, of course, it would be! I've met women like you before. I recognise the attitude. Nothing is ever your fault, is it? Someone else is always to blame—usually some poor bloody man!'
'Don't you swear at me!' said Prue, teeth tight with rage.
'You call that swearing? You've led a sheltered life!'
'And don't sneer,' said Prue.
'For heaven's sake!' he ground out, his face reddening with fury.
'Don't snarl, either,' she said with a peculiar satisfaction in the sight of his temper rising.
He gave a thick, wordless exclamation and grabbed her arm, shaking her. 'Now listen!' he burst out, without saying precisely what she was to listen to!
Prue tried to look as calm as a cucumber. That wasn't how she felt, of course; she was as angry as he was, if for different reasons. Deep inside her she knew that she had deliberately pushed him into this ferocious temper. She wasn't sure why, but she had been possessed of terrible energy and had needed to release it by quarrelling with someone—or, she thought, in a horrified admission just to herself, by making passionate love. Of the two alternatives, given that Josh Killane was the only man around at the moment, quarrelling seemed the wiser choice.
'Get your hands off me!' She glanced past him at the door, in the hope of rescue, but her father and Lucy Killane had vanished.
Josh looked back, too, and Prue took the opportunity to wrench herself free and dart towards the doorway. He caught up with her a few feet from the house; spun her round to face him again.
'Don't you . . .' she began, but he interrupted.
'Will you stop giving me orders? I don't like bossy women.'
'I don't care what you don't like!' she began, then his hands closed over her shoulders and lifted her up until they were face to face. Prue was startled to find herself looking into his violent, dark eyes, and for a moment she was too breathless to speak. Josh kissed her; an angry kiss which forced her lips back on her teeth and suffocated her. She shut her eyes in shock, felt his mouth crushed down against hers briefly, then she was back on the ground, on her own two- feet, but reeling like a drunk.
'And don't tell me! I know!' he said. 'I mustn't kiss you.'
She didn't have to answer, because while she was trying to find the words to tell him exactly what she thought of him, her father appeared in the doorway and called to them,
'Aren't you two coming in? It's cold out there,'
'Coming,' Prue said in a thin voice, walking towards him fast, and Josh followed more slowly. She looked around her as she entered the high-ceilinged hall; it was unfamiliar. She must have been; here as a child, but she did not recall it. Tonight, there was a log fire burning in the large stone fireplace, and great bronze vases of autumn flowers on either side of the hearth. Lucy Killane stood by a Georgian table, pouring drinks.
'You remember Mrs Killane, Prue,' James Allardyce said, introducing them, and Prue held out her hand politely, with an effort she hoped she hid.
'Of course. Hello, Mrs Killane.'
'It's nice to see you home again, Prue,' Lucy Killane said, her voice warm as melted honey—but how real was the sweetness?
'I'm happy to be home.' Prue's glance slid sideways to the other person in the hall, a girl sitting on a red velvet-covered chair, her eyes on her own two hands, which were clasped around her knees. Prue recognised her, too—it was the girl who had been with her father that morning. What had he called her?
'Do you remember my daughter, Lynsey?' asked Lucy Killane, noticing where Prue was looking, and Prue couldn't help giving Josh a quick flick of her angry green eyes. His sister? Not his girlfriend?
What had all that been about, then, yesterday morning? What had Lynsey Killane done? He had been so angry and the girl had been so defiant as he'd hustled her away.
'I think so,' Prue said slowly, beginning to remember a much younger girl, skinny and slight with huge eyes. Lynsey Killane had made so little impact that Prue had forgotten about her altogether until now.
'You were much older,' agreed Mrs Killane. ' Lynsey's just eighteen, now.'
'Hello,' Prue said to the other girl, and Lynsey nodded, looking up.
'Hi.' She wasn't exactly unfriendly, but she made it clear that Prue was out of her age group, not someone who could ever become a close friend, which meant that Lynsey couldn't be bothered with her. After giving Prue that cool look, she turned her head to watch the log fire, her long black lashes lying against her cheek, showing Prue her immaculate profile—delicate, half childlike, very lovely.
'What can I get you to drink?' asked Josh, and Prue accepted a sherry, amber-gold and very sweet.
'Come and sit near the fire,' said Mrs Killane. 'We like sitting in the hall; it can get too cold in winter, but at this time of year it is perfect with a big fire, and we have plenty of logs to burn. Josh thins out the timber from time to time. We replace each tree with a sapling, of course; timber is a valuable part of our income, you have to manage the forestry properly.' She was talking huskily, sounding a little nervous.
'She isn't interested in estate management. Mother,' Josh said drily.
'Oh, but I am,' said Prue, not quite honestly, and wondered yet again at her unvarying impulse to annoy him. He gave her a look that told her he had noticed, she needn't think he hadn't, and he didn't like it—or her—much! She gave him a sweet smile that told him it was mutual—she didn't like him much, either!
Nobody else seemed to be aware of their silent exchange of hostility, although to Prue it was as obvious as a ten-foot wall.
'What a pity about your fiancé,' said Lucy Killane, politely changing the subject anyway, 'I hope he isn't too badly injured?'
'I hope so, too,' Prue said, on a sudden sigh, partly out of guilt because she was spending more time hating Josh Killane than she was thinking about David. '1 should have rung his parents and told them,'
she thought aloud, 'but 1 wanted to wait until 1 knew for certain how he was ... I don't want them to drop everything and fly over here if David really isn't badly hurt, but on the other hand, if it is serious I know they'd never forgive me if they weren't told. I'm seeing him tomorrow, and I'll ring them afterwards.'
'Where do they live?' Mrs Killane asked:
'Sydney; very near where we lived.' That reminded her of her mother, she frowned and met the other woman's eyes; saw a faint flicker of uneasiness in those dark depths. Lucy Killane was thinking about her mother, too! A telepathic flash passed between them and Lucy Killane paled a little.
Prue went on flatly, 'They were good friends to my mother and me.
After she was killed, I don't know what I would have done without them.
'So you've known your fiancé for quite a while,' said josh, and she nodded. 'A boy and girl affair!' he added drily, making her bristle.
'We're hardly teenagers!'
'He drives like a teenager.'
'That's unfair; just because he had an accident. 'He crashed because he wasn't looking where he was going!'
'How do you know why he crashed?'
'Because I saw him kissing you as he came over the top of that hill!'
Prue felt herself flush hotly. 'He didn't...' But she wasn't sure if that was the truth or not; she couldn't actually remember what had been happening in the few moments before the car veered wildly across the road. The shock of the crash had wiped out everything but a vision of Josh Killane's angry, tightened features flashing past them, her own scream of fear, David's shaken exclamation and then the impact as the car hit the stone wall.
'Josh! Stop being so aggressive!' Mrs Killane said anxiously, frowning at her son, whose mouth indented as he shrugged.
'You seem to forget, I could have been put into hospital myself—or killed! And all because this guy hadn't got his mind on the road.'
'Prue is our guest!' his mother warned, looking unhappily at Prue.
'Prue, I'm sorry. Josh has a terrible temper, I'm afraid.'
'I had noticed,' Prue said.
'That won't be easy,' Josh said. 'I had a job fitting that rota together; I don't know who could change shifts with you. Look, I'll drive her to the hospital. I have to drop in there, anyway.'
'I can get a taxi,' Prue hastily said, appalled at the very idea of another confrontation with Josh Killane, but nobody took any notice of her.
'Why do you have to go to the hospital?' Mrs Killane asked Josh.
'I have to call in on old Jack Armsden.'
'Of course, I'd forgotten!' said his mother.
'They had him in there for observation for a week, but he had his operation the day before yesterday, and the ward sister rang me today to say he could have visitors now. I said I'd call in some time tomorrow.'
'Poor old Jack, having a major operation at his age is no joke,' said James Allardyce.
'Does the hospital think he's going to be OK?' Mrs Killane asked her son, who shrugged, his face wry.
'They weren't saying, but he's a tough old man, I think he has a fair chance of pulling through.'
'He has no family left,' James Allardyce said, looking sombre.
'No,' agreed Josh flatly. That's why I must go and see him as soon as possible.'
'Oh, yes, you must!' Mrs Killane agreed. 'Poor man, and he's always so kind. Who's looking after his dogs? I should have thought of that.'
'Don't worry, Mother, .I've seen to the dogs, and the canary!'
'Josh thinks of everything!' Lynsey suddenly said in a sniping voice, and her mother frowned at her.
'Yes, he does—whatever is the matter with you, Lynsey? Stop trying to get at your brother all the time!'
'Oh, dear, so sorry,' Lynsey said, getting up and flouncing up the stairs.
'Lynsey! Come back here!' her mother called after her, but got no answer, Flushed and upset, Mrs Killane looked helplessly at Josh.
'What are we going to do with her?'
'She's going back to college soon, that's what we're going to do with her,' he said, frowning in grim irritation.
'Dinner's nearly ready—I'd better go and get her down again!' his mother said, but Josh shook his head.
'Leave her up there. If she's hungry, she'll come down. If she doesn't, she can go without!' He looked at James Allardyce. 'If you get a chance, maybe you could visit Jack Armsden, Jim?'
'Of course I will! Known him all my life, after all/
'Yes, he's worked on the estate since he was a boy, and his father before him—we're the nearest thing to a family he's got.'
Prue met her father's eyes and James Allardyce explained, 'Jack's wife died years ago—they did have a boy once, when they were young, but he died when he was just a lad, I can't remember what he died of, can you, Lucy?'
'Wasn't it polio? It was very sudden; a tragic business and they could never have another child, she was one of those tiny, frail women. She had tuberculosis—maybe that was what killed the boy, too? I can't quite remember, it was so long ago. Jack was in his early forties, then, and how old is he now?'
'Seventy-two,' said Josh. 'As you say, it was all so long ago. He's been alone for years.'
'Poor old man,' Prue thought aloud, shivering because she remembered how she had felt when her mother was killed and she found herself left alone in the world. She had, at least, had David and his family nearby, to comfort her, though. It must have been much worse for Jack Armsden.
'So as I have to go to the hospital,' Josh repeated, 'I'll take Prue in with me and kill two birds with one stone,'
'Can I come?' Lynsey Killane said from the stairs, making them all jump because they hadn't heard her coming back.
Her brother frowned blackly at her. 'I'm not taking you anywhere!'
'I want to see Jack! I'm fond of him!' She didn't actually stamp her foot, but Prue got the impression' she almost did, her lovely face petulant.
'That's a good idea!' Mrs Killane said hurriedly. 'Jack's always been fond of Lynsey, Josh, you know he has . . . why not take her?'
'After the little exhibition she just put on? I didn't hear any apology, either!'
'I'm sorry I lost my temper,' Lynsey said. 'There . . . I've apologised, will you take me tomorrow?'
'I'd love to have company on the drive, ' Prue said, and everyone looked at her—Josh furiously, his mother and her father gratefully, Lynsey with the first sign of interest, smiling her little, curling, rather feline smile.
'That's settled, then,' she said.
CHAPTER FOUR
WHEN Prue came down to breakfast next day, her father had already started work, but there was a tall, raw-boned woman in the hall, polishing furniture and leaving a delicious scent of lavender on the air.
She looked round as Prue appeared, nodding. 'Morning. You must be his daughter. He's off out long since.'
Prue detected a note of disapproval in that. Her father had warned her that Betty Cain was blunt and Yorkshire to her fingertips, and this had to be Betty Cain. A woman in her forties, with dark brown hair and a clear, weathered skin, Betty Cain was busy, energetic and not inclined to gossip.
'I've done the kitchen, if you want to get yourself breakfast, but I must get on!' she said, going back to her polishing, and Prue hardly got a word out of her after that.
Josh drove up punctually; Prue got into the back seat, since Lynsey was in the front passenger seat, and they drove most of the way without saying much. When they reached the hospital, they discovered that David was in the same ward as Jack Armsden, although David was in a bed by a window at the end of the room, and the old man was in a bed by the door, where a nurse could keep a constant eye on him. Prue watched Josh and Lynsey stand by the bed; the old man's face was waxy white on the pillow and he had his eyes shut, his lids blue-veined. He looked very old and ill, and she felt a wave of pity for him.
It was a relief to see that David looked better than ( that! In fact, he waved as she came towards him. Propped up by banked pillows, his head bandaged and his pyjama jacket buttoned over bandages which strapped up his ribs, he looked quite pale, too, but his eyes were cheerful enough.
'Hello, darling! he said, grinning at her.
'I've been so worried about you, but you look great,' she said, bending to kiss him.
'All the better for seeing you, my dear!' he said in a comic wolf's growl, and she laughed, pulling up a chair so that she could sit beside his bed.
'I can see you're feeling better than you did last time I saw you, anyway!'
'You should have seen me yesterday! Strewth, I never thought I'd make it. I'd have made my will if I could have held the pen to sign it.'
'Poor David!' she said, holding his hand and smiling at him. 'I'm very glad you weren't seriously hurt. I was dreading ringing your Mum and Dad if I had to tell them bad news.'
'They know I crashed?' David looked rueful.
'Not yet. I was waiting to find out how badly you were hurt. I didn't want to panic them unnecessarily.'
'Good thinking,' he agreed fervently. 'In fact, don't bother to ring at all. When I'm out of here, I'll send Mum and Dad the odd postcard from Europe, and I'll tell them about the crash when I get back home.'
'David, you can't do that!' Prue was horrified, and he looked sullen.
'Prue, if we tell them they'll make a terrible fuss—you know that!'
$he wasn't convinced, her face anxious. 'But when they do find out, they'll be furious.'
'I'll talk them round!' he dismissed, which was typical of David, who was always sure of himself and his ability to twist both his friends and his family round his little finger. 'Now, tell me about your Dad and the farm'.'
Prue let him change the subject for the moment, because she didn't want to upset him so soon after the accident. He still looked ill.
She gave him a slightly edited version
of her meeting with her father, described the farm in glowing, lyrical terms, and told him how sad she had been to discover that her old dog had died years ago.
'Typical of you to be so upset about it!' he said, smiling at her lovingly.
'You know you would be, in my shoes.' David loved his own dog back at home in Sydney. 'You'd go spare if you got home and found that Dodger had died while you were away!'
'True,' he admitted ruefully. 'He's a stupid old fool, but dogs do get to you, don't they? Cats I can take or leave, but I would miss old Dodger.'
'And your mother would cry her eyes out,' Prue said. 'Although I think she loves Dodger because he's your dog.' She gave him a coaxing, smiling look. 'David, I really think I ought to ring her! She might be hurt if we didn't tell them about the accident until weeks later. They would feel shut out, excluded.'
'They'll forgive me!' he said with utter conviction, and she sighed uneasily.
'I'm not so sure they'll forgive me!' His mother would certainly think that she should have got in touch with them; she would blame Prue, not her own son, and she would be quite right. 'I ought to tell them, David! They have a right to know.'
His mouth turned down and his face took on that sulky look again.
'Don't nag me, Prue!'
'I'm not nagging, I just think . . .'
'They're my parents, not yours, for heaven's sake!'
She bit her lip. 'I know, but . . .'
'I'm a big boy now, I don't want them rushing over here. Mum will cry over me, and Dad's going to blame me for the crash. He's always saying I'm a rotten driver, you know that. He never trusts me with his bloody car. When he hears there was a crash, he'll think it was my fault, sure as hell. If they fly over here, they'll want me to go home right away, but I've come a long way round the world to see Europe and, accident or no accident, I'm not going home until I've seen it.'
'But, David ... ' she began, and he interrupted her, his voice very loud.
'Will you stop whingeing? Just do what I say, OK?'
He was flushed, his eyes too bright. Prue stared at him, suddenly seeing that he really wasn't very well yet; he was behaving like a petulant little brat, and that wasn't like David at all! She should be humouring him—not arguing with him and upsetting him all the time.
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