by Lucy Gillen
"How much longer do you have to stay at home?" she asked him on the third day. "You seem to be getting about on your injured leg, darling, and if you like I could drive you into Woodmouth to the office. I don't even mind getting up at the crack of dawn to do it, if it will help."
It was such an obvious ploy that Kim felt almost sorry for her, especially when it was evident in James' eyes that he had seen through it. "It's not for me to say, Eve," he told her. "Doctor Morgan says I have to stay home at the moment and, as I have no desire to do anything to impede my recovery, I shall do as he says."
"Then surely you shouldn't be working at home," Eve insisted, and sent a condemning look at Kim as if she blamed her for his activity. "You should be resting."
James laughed. "Oh, you know me, I can't rest for long, I get bored to tears. Anyway, I'm not doing much towards it. Kim does all the work while I just make noises like a business man. Kim's the one who's doing all the running about, not me."
"And is no doubt being well paid for it," Eve retorted sharply and with another angry look at Kim.
"Maybe," James agreed quietly, "but she earns it, I've
been pretty hard to get along with the last few days and Kim's coped valiantly."
His praise, Kim felt, was not only exaggerated but embarassing, and she was sure he had only been so profuse with the idea of taunting Eve. He was, she thought, as bad as George in his own way.
It was during the morning of the fourth day, while she was with Mrs. Pannet getting coffee for herself and James, that Lee decided to visit his uncle. Normally the housekeeper kept the children away from the room when work was in progress, but while she was occupied making coffee and talking to Kim, Lee saw his opportunity and took it.
The first indication Kim had of his whereabouts was when Lee's not inconsiderable lung-power roared a protest and she almost dropped the tray she was picking up. "Good heavens," she exclaimed, looking at Mrs. Pannett half fearfully, "what on earth's going on?"
Mrs. Pannet took a hasty look through the kitchen window to the garden, and shook her head. "It's Lee," she told Kim. "He was out there in the garden with Terry, but he must have sneaked through while we were making coffee."
"But he sounded hurt," Kim remarked as she went out into the hall, followed by the housekeeper.
Mrs. Pannet shook her head. "Maybe he got into some mischief," she guessed, "and Mr. Fleming slapped him for it."
"Oh, that — that brute!" Kim hurried across the hall, her suspicions aroused, and opened the door wide, it was already ajar. "Lee," she said as she looked across the room, "whatever's the matter?"
Her worst suspicions were confirmed when she took in the scene. There was no doubt what had happened, for Lee stood beside the table Kim used as a desk, one hand rub-
bing the seat of his trousers, his bottom lip pouted, half in defiance and half in self-pity so that Kim's soft heart immediately went out to him.
A pile of papers lay scattered over the floor by the table and at the sight of them her heart sank, but she could not see even that as an excuse for, smacking Lee and she glared at James Fleming indignantly. "Why did you hit him?" she demanded.
There was an air of silent expectancy in the room and no one spoke or moved for a moment. Mrs. Pannet hovered anxiously in the background, James sat perfectly -still on the long settee, too still, his eyes stormily dark, while Lee, the cause of it all, looked from one to the other with more interest than apprehension, although Kim refused to recognise it.
"Take Lee out, will you, Mrs. Pannet?" James asked at last, dangerously quiet, and Kim bit on her lip as she stood the coffee tray on a table.
"Yes, sir." The housekeeper held out a hand and Lee went across to her, reluctantly, even Kim had to admit that. Although he had been the one who got slapped he was probably the one least affected by the aftermath.
"James —" He looked at his uncle hopefully, but met with a frown that would have discouraged anyone, and Kim found fresh fuel for her anger because he had not been allowed to apologise, if that had been his intention.
As the door closed behind them Kim waited for the storm to break, but instead James merely inclined his head towards the scattered papers on the floor. "You'd better start putting those in order again," he told her, reaching for the coffee pot. "I'll leave your coffee in the pot until you've finished, then it won't get cold."
So that was it, Kim thought; he meant to pay her back for her temerity by making her wait for her coffee. She was
very tempted to argue with him about it, but she thought that was probably what he expected her to do and she would not give him the satisfaction, so she stooped down beside the table and began gathering up the jumbled pages. Although her fingers trembled and she was so angry she felt like crying, she refused to let him see how she felt.
The pages were of a long and very complicated report and they were, as yet, unnumbered, so that sorting them was a long and tedious job and one which she would normally have complained bitterly about. This time, however she realised that any murmur from her would only justify his smacking Lee, and so she worked silently and uncomplainingly.
To make matters worse she was obliged to spend most of her time either on her knees or stooped round his side of the table while he sat quietly sipping his coffee and watching her. It would have been difficult for him to help, she realised, but he could at least have offered to sort the pages into order instead of leaving it all to her, and she hated the way he watched her.
There was, she thought resentfully, something of the air of a feudal lord about him as he sat there, as if he enjoyed watching her grovelling on the floor at his feet and just waiting for her to do something wrong.
Her imagination was running riot by the time she had gathered and sorted the last of the papers and she straightened up thankfully, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling. "Everything's in order," she told him, and dumped the pile down heavily on the table.
He nodded briefly. "Help yourself to coffee."
"No, thank you." She stood by the table, stiffly resentful, her manner as haughty as if she was the offended one. "Sit down."
The order was brief and impatient and she was very
tempted to refuse that too. "I —" she began, but he waved an impatient hand.
"Sit down and pour yourself some coffee," he told her, "and don't stand on your dignity." Reluctantly Kim obeyed, seeing nothing else for it, short of walking out altogether, and that would no doubt upset George.
"I wasn't aware that I was," she said shortly as she helped herself to coffee.
He raised beseeching eyes to heaven. "Huh ! "
Kim swallowed her drink with difficulty, almost choking on it. "I've sorted the report and I've taken coffee, both without comment," she told him, "so I don't see that you have any cause for complaint, Mr. Fleming, if you have I suggest you see Mr. Daley. I'm his employee, not yours, and it was his idea that I work for you."
"I remember," he admitted, and seemed to be finding the fact amusing. "You were shanghaied into it, weren't you?" He eyed her for a moment, speculatively. "I suppose all this — this showing off is to let me know you disapprove of my smacking Lee?" he suggested.
"There was no need to smack him," Kim retorted. "It's hardly likely he knocked the papers over deliberately."
"You weren't here," he told her, "so you couldn't know, could you?"
Kim glared at him, still convinced he had been unduly harsh with Lee and determined to let him know it. "You're a — a sadist, a — a monster," she told him darkly, "and I certainly wouldn't let you near any child of mine!"
For some reason he seemed to find that idea even more amusing and smiled widely, his eyes now far more tolerant than angry which did nothing to placate her. "You know even less about children than I do," he informed her, "and that's little enough, heaven knows. If you must have it in detail — I told Lee he wasn't allowed in here while we were
working and that offended his sense of liberty, so he decided to argue, thinkin
g I was immobile. When I told him off for answering back he retaliated by carefully tapping at the edge of that pile of papers until it toppled off the edge, exactly as he intended."
"Child-like," Kim decided, refusing to admit he was right. "And you hit him."
He looked at her for a moment, as much exasperated as amused. "I turned him round," he admitted patiently, "and administered one fairly hefty whack to his seat, certainly not hard enough to warrant the yell he gave and which brought you running in here full of righteous indignation." He eyed her steadily. "I suppose you would have smiled benignly?" he suggested sarcastically, and Kim flushed but did not answer. "With your temper ?" he added. "It's unlikely, Kim, so don't try to be such a paragon of patience, it's not very convincing."
"Oh, you —"
"Shut up and let's get on with this report," he interrupted with a grin, "or I'll serve you the same as I did Lee."
Seeing nothing else for it, Kim did as he said, although she was sorely tempted. It was not long before she was due to finish work for the day that another crisis loomed and both she and James looked up curiously when, after a brief knock, Mrs. Pannet appeared in the doorway. James sighed resignedly.
"What is it now, Mrs. Pannet? A crisis in the kitchen?"
"No, sir." It was obvious she was reluctant to tell him whatever it was worried her, and Kim felt suddenly apprehensive for no reason she could think of. "It — it's Lee, Mr. Fleming. He's gone."
"Gone?" He looked more annoyed than worried and Kim felt herself automatically preparing to defend the child again. James sighed wearily. "Oh, he's probably gone down
on the sea wall again, Mrs. Pannet. Don't panic, he never goes far."
Mrs. Pannet shook her head, looking more worried than ever. "No, he's not, sir. I've been down there with Terry and looked, and he's nowhere in sight."
"Oh." A frown replaced the resignation. "Now where the devil has he got to?"
Kim looked at James enquiringly. "Could I go and look for him?" she suggested. "Mrs. Pannet would have been hindered to a certain extent by having Terry with her, and I might do better on my own."
"That's just what the little monster wants," James told her wryly. "Everyone running around after him in a panic. He's a real little exhibitionist, that one."
"It probably runs in the family," Kim remarked tartly, "but the fact remains that he's missing and it gets dark quite early this time of year. Aren't you even slightly worried about him?"
He looked at her for a second with a brow raised, then glanced down at his plaster-encased foot and leg. "What do you suggest I do," he asked, "clump up and down the sea wall like Long John Silver?"
"Well, let me go," Kim insisted. "I know my way around Woodsea well enough now, and someone may have seen
James sighed and looked across at the housekeeper. "All right, Mrs. Pannet, you'd better go and keep an eye on Terry. We don't want her running off too, it might be catching. Miss Anders 'll go and find Lee."
Kim waited until the door closed behind the housekeeper. "You realise why he's run off, don't you?" she asked, and he smiled ruefully.
"Go on," he encouraged, "blame me."
"It was you," Kim insisted. "You smacked him."
"I'll wallop the living daylights out of him when you bring him back," he informed her sternly, "broken leg or not."
"Oh, you — you brute !" Kim glared at him helplessly. "I shan't bring him back to you, I'll — I'll keep him with me where you can't hurt him, you — monster ! "
James got to his feet only with difficulty, the heavy plaster upsetting his balance so that he hung on to the end of the sideboard for support, grinning down at her now that he was his normal height again. "The original wicked uncle, as I told you once before," he reminded her. "Go on, you little angel of mercy, go and round up the stray lamb. I promise not to give him his just deserts."
Kim flushed, not only because of the jibe, but some expression in his eyes that set the pulse in her temple throbbing wildly. "I — I don't trust you," she told him.
"And I don't blame you." He was perfectly solemn except for his eyes, and Kim lowered her own as she walked towards the door.
She had to pass him first on her way, but she was unprepared for the hand that closed round her arm as she passed and brought her to a halt, her heart pounding erratically. "I — I must go and find Lee," she told him, trying hard to steady her voice. The grip on her arm did not ease. "Please, James."
"It does please James," he told her, and laughed softly, drawing her easily into his one free arm, seeking her mouth gently but firmly. She was stiff against him for a second, then gradually she relaxed until she could scarcely tell his heartbeat from her own, except that hers was so much more rapid. He held her for what seemed like an eternity, but could only have been a second or two, then his laugh sounded soft and deep against her ear. "I thought you were in a hurry to find Lee," he teased, "and what would George
say if he knew?"
Kim shook herself free, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling angrily, then without another word, she walked to the door and banged it shut behind her, her thoughts chaotic as she left the house.
She was unsure where she should start looking for the errant Lee, since Mrs. Pannet had already covered the sea wall, but look she must and quickly before it got dark. James was right, to a certain extent, of course; it was unlikely that Lee had gone very far, for he had a built-in sense of self-preservation like most children, but he was also a seasoned absconder and he probably knew of places that Kim had never even guessed at.
She remembered the cove where they had so very nearly come to grief the day of the boat race and her heart sank in case Lee remembered it too. Not knowing where else to start, she walked the length of the sea wall, keeping a look out all the way, and went down on to the sandy beach. The wind blowing in off the sea was already quite chill although the day had been warm, and the short October evening was drawing in rapidly, so that Kim shivered when she thought of Lee being alone and probably too childishly stubborn to go home.
It was all James' fault, she told herself, shrugging off the persistent memory of that kiss; he should not have been so harsh with the boy and then he would not have run away yet again.
The tide was still out, but only just, for the water was rapidly foaming and rolling up the incline towards the cliff, leaving only a narrow strip of sand still uncovered. Kim eyed the advancing tide dubiously, but the thought of Lee being there in the cove, small and frightened, decided her and she started across the damp cold sand, her eyes flicking uneasily to the approaching sea.
The yellow-sanded beach looked bleak and desolate in the dying light, and not a bit as it had in the bright sunshine as the last time she saw it. The dark grotesque shapes of the rocks strode across the narrow cove to the sea and the towering background of the cliffs gave it a close, unfriendly feeling that made her shudder.
"Lee?" she called out, although she had little hope of hearing an answer. Only the threatening whisper of the advancing sea shushed her into silence and she glanced hastily round the tiny cove in desperation. "Lee ! " Her voice echoed strangely off the cliff face and she thought she heard a faint sound other than the swishing tide. "Lee, where are you?"
It was a sound, she was sure now, the faint sound of a small voice and while she still looked around the cove helplessly a little figure emerged from behind the concealing rocks. "Oh, Lee !" She ran to him, the damp sand dragging at her feet, and he looked at her with wide, half defiant eyes as she knelt down beside him. "Where on earth did you think you were going? You know this cove gets cut off at high tide, you'd have been stranded here all night."
"I like it here," Lee informed her, a little sulkily, she had to admit.
"Well, you can't stay here," Kim insisted, getting to her feet again. "Now come along quickly before the tide cuts off our escape."
"I —" He started to argue, and for a moment Kim felt some of James' exasperation.
"Lee, come along!"
&nbs
p; He came then, but very reluctantly, and they made their way across the coldness of the sand again, Kim holding tight to his hand. The strip of dry exit was already much smaller than she had anticipated and she unconsciously hurried him the last few yards.
"Up you go." She helped him up on to the sea wall and prepared to follow.
"No !" His cry of despair startled her so that she almost toppled backwards.
"What's wrong?" she asked, staring at him in the dim light.
"I left my boat." He started to scramble down off the wall again and Kim forcibly pushed him back.
"Well, it'll have to stay until tomorrow," she told him. "You can't go back now."
Tears rolled down his grubby face and his eyes looked up at her reproachfully. "It's my new boat," he wailed. "I don't want to lose it, Kim, I don't want to lose it."
Hastily Kim glanced back over her shoulder at the dark, white-edged waves rolling up the sand to close the gap, then down at Lee's tearful, appealing face. "All right," she told him, "but you stay here and I'll run back for it, promise?"
Lee nodded and she went down once again on to the cold, unwelcoming sand, walking as quickly as it allowed her to to the tiny gap still left, realising as she went that she did not know for certain just where he had left his precious boat.
She tried to remember exactly where he had emerged from the rocks and thought she had the right place when she toiled up the beach following as best she could her own footsteps in the sand, although it was difficult to distinguish them, it was so dark now.
She looked around hastily, horribly aware of the persistent warning from the sea behind her, and only when she was prepared to go back without the boat did she spot a white sail lying on one of the rocks and hastily grabbed the toy and ran.
She ran back round the screening rocks and felt a cold,
helpless sensation in her stomach when she saw that the narrow strip of sand was already awash. She stared at it in dismay as the water frothed and curled at the foot of the cliff, shallow as yet but deepening with every wave that rolled in as fast as she could drag her feet through the clinging sand.