"Would you rather we went out? It would make a change for you."
"No thanks, dad. It was a nice thought, but I'd prefer to be here."
During dinner she deliberately brought the conversation around to her father's work, hoping to find a clue as to the value of the plans Jake believed she had tried to steal. However it was not until they were at the coffee stage that she was given her first inkling of the magnitude of the deed she had supposedly tried to commit.
"Mind you, the machine we're working on now will make everything else obsolete in a few years' time," her father said. "It's the sort of breakthrough one dreams of getting."
"Not another electric engine for a car?"
"Far more revolutionary than that. It will be made public in a matter of months." He paused, as though wishing to savor the triumph. "It means that the idea of a nuclear-powered engine is no longer just for the science fiction writers!"
"You've got one?"
"Yes. It will give this country the edge over the rest of the world."
The anger Laura had felt earlier was nothing compared with the anger she felt now. How could Jake have thought her capable of stealing something of such value to her country? Even if she had only done it to spite him, it would have been the height of irresponsibility.
Once again she went over the conversation she had had with him. How certain'the night watchman had been that he had recognized her hair and face. If Jake had been accused in the same way would she have given him the benefit of the doubt?
Remembering how bitterly she had felt toward him when she had seen him with Elaine—until Beth's explanation of his past had made her see he was not the type to seek out a girl merely because she was rich—she knew full well how blinded by jealousy one could be. If only she could believe that Jake's misjudgment of her own character stemmed from jealousy, too!
But even if he was jealous, surely his intelligence would tell him she was not the type to be a thief? And when he realized this, which he was bound to do once his temper had cooled, he would call her and apologize.
Anticipating his call, she remained in the house the whole of the next day. But when evening came and there still had been no word from him, her belief that he had realized his mistake began to ebb, dying completely when the end of the week arrived without his breaking the silence. So much for her hopes that time would make him regret his harsh judgment of her.
Beth, like Laura's father, was also convinced she had left Grantley's because of her feelings for Jake, and though the woman made no mention of it the first few times they met, at the end of a couple of weeks she could no longer keep silent.
"You can't mope for him forever," she said one evening as they returned from a brisk walk around the block.
"I'm not moping for him," Laura replied. "I don't know why you and dad should be so convinced I've fallen for him."
"Actions speak louder than words—if you'll forgive the obvious!" Beth dropped her coat on a chair in the hall. "You can't be pining for your job and you can't be pining for Robert. Ipso facto, that only leaves Jake. I'm right, aren't I?"
Pride fought with honesty and honesty won. "Yes. But I don't want to talk about it"
"You'd feel better if you did."
Laura moved toward the kitchen. "How about some tea?"
"Trying to change the subject? Don't worry, love, I can take a hint. But just before I let you do so, I'd like to give you one word of advice: if you really love Jake, don't let pride stop you from making the first move."
"We didn't have that sort of a quarrel," Laura mumbled.
Beth sniffed her disbelief. "He's seeing a lot of Elaine."
"Maybe he prefers Elaine. Now go and talk to dad while I put on the kettle."
Setting the cups on the tray, Laura was reminded of the evening at Beth's flat when Jake had pulled her into his arms and kissed her with such passion and tenderness. Yet now he was finding consolation in another woman's arms.
How easy it was for a man to do this. Yet how long would it be before she herself could do the same? The very mention of Jake's name aroused a torrent of longing that made her live in daily fear of meeting him again. Yet this was inevitable; in a town the size of Eddlestone it would be impossible not to bump into him accidentally.
She remembered this a week later when, crossing the foyer of the local movie theater, her eyes as yet unaccustomed to the light after the darkness inside, she stumbled against a man coming from the box office. A strong hand steadied her and she looked up to thank him, the words dying in her throat as she saw it was Jake.
He was thinner than she had recollected, with dark shadows under his eyes and the lines around his mouth more deeply engraved.
"Hello, Laura,"hesaid quietly.
She gave him a nod and pulled from his grasp, intent only on walking past. But he barred her way.
"Going out or coming in?"
"Going out."
He frowned. "Not working yet?"
"There isn't a plethora of jobs for me in Eddlestone."
She saw him hesitate and braced herself for a hurtful remark. But when he spoke, he surprised her.
"If you need a reference, I'd be happy to give you one."
"What would you say? That Miss Winters is conscientious but unfortunately not to be trusted?"
He bit his lip. "You're a good actress, Laura. If I didn't know the truth I might even be persuaded of your innocence." He moved a step closer. "Be honest with me. Tell me why you did it. I 'll do my best to understand.''
"I didn't do it," she said stonily. "What I said in your office was the truth. Your night watchman couldn't have seen me because I wasn't there!"
Jake started to speak but his words were obliterated by a husky gush of apology as Elaine ran into the foyer, blond hair streaming down the collar of her mink coat.
"Sorry to be late, darling, but dad gave me a lift and he won't be rushed."
The smell of exotic scent and the aura of elegance emanating from Elaine made Laura conscious of her three-year-old camel coat with its rubbed collar and worn sleeves. Out of a job and not knowing when or if she would find one in Eddlestone, she had resolutely refused to replenish her wardrobe or accept any money from her father.
Anxious not to be seen, she moved past Jake, but the younger woman was not prepared to miss an opportunity of scoring a victory.
" Waiting for Robert? " she cooed.
"Not this time. I'm just leaving."
"You mean you're on your own?" The green eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you've had a quarrel with him? All Eddlestone's waiting for you to announce your engagement!"
Laura made her reply as noncommittal as she could and plunged out into the damp streets. Walking back home she felt a little bubble of happiness growing inside her. If Elaine was as sure of Jake as she pretended, she would not need to show her claws in such an obvious way.
Refusing to consider this particular point any further, she found it difficult to hide her restlessness. Though her father made no comment during dinner, as soon as it was over he went into the hall to make a telephone call, returning with a look of pleasure on his face.
"Put on one of your party dresses, Laura. I'm taking you out."
"At this time of night?"
He grinned. "Why not? It's barely eight o'clock."
"Where are we going?"
"To the Marsdale Country Club." He savored her astonishment before continuing. "They have a good cabaret there this month. Some American singer."
"You'llhate that!"
"No, I won't. Now go and change. We need to get out more. Otherwise we'll both become old fogies!"
Knowing it would be ungracious to refuse, though the idea of sitting through a cabaret—no matter how good- appalled her, she changed into one of her prettiest dresses. That much she owed her father for sacrificing an evening in front of the television!
She came downstairs to find him waiting for her in the hall. "How pretty you look," he exclaimed. "Why don't you wear that sapph
ire brooch of your mother's? It would look lovely on the collar."
"I never knew you were a fashion expert." She smiled and ran upstairs to get it.
The brooch was not in her jewelry box and she rummaged in the drawer. But it was not there, either, and she started to look through her handbags. When every bag had been searched and the brooch had still not come to light, she stood in the center of the room and tried to remember when she had last worn it. But the memory evaded her and, forcing herself to remain calm, she sat on the bed and thought again.
It was unthinkable to consider she had lost it. It had been her father's first wedding-anniversary present to her mother and, as such, had a value far above its material worth. It had to be found. She must stop feeling panicky and think calmly. She had worn it on Christmas Day. No, that wasn't true. She had worn it at a farewell party she had given for one of her assistants at Grant- ley's. At last it was coming back to her. During the afternoon the clasp had worked itself loose and, afraid it would fall off, she had put it in the drawer of her desk. Where it undoubtedly still was.
"Hurry up, dear," her father called, "or we'll be late."
She ran down to the hall. "I can't wear the brooch tonight, dad. I left it in the office."
"Didn't you empty your desk before you left?"
"I was in a bit of a state and forgot. After my quarrel with Jake I… I wasn't thinking clearly."
"Ah." It was a sound of understanding. "Well, we'd best go into the office and collect it."
"Now?"
"Why not? You won't want to go during the day, will you?"
The thought of inadvertently meeting Jake again made her shiver, and she gratefully accepted her father's suggestion and followed him to the car.
In silence they drove down the dark streets to the factory gates. He opened them with his pass key and then carefully maneuvered the car between the low-slung buildings until he stopped outside the main one.
"You go in and get the brooch while I turn the car around," he said.
With a nod, Laura did as she was told. She had never been in the factory at night, despite what Jake believed, and it was unnerving to walk through the dimly lit corridors with the floor echoing to her steps. Reaching the door of the office that had once been hers, she paused, knowing a strange reluctance to step across the threshold. Then chiding herself for being foolish, she drew a deep breath and entered.
The room appeared to be unoccupied and this lessened her sense of guilt as she opened the top drawer of the desk and searched inside. Her fingers touched cold metal and with a sigh of relief she drew out a sparkling gold and sapphire brooch.
Quickly closing the door behind her, she ran down the corridor intent only on leaving the building as soon as she could.
"Got you!" a hoarse voice cried excitedly as a heavy hand grabbed Laura by the shoulder.
Speechless with fright, she stared up into a red and triumphant face. Oh no, she thought in desperation as she recognized the night watchman, this can't be happening to me!
But it was. And the man was clutching her for dear life.
"Please let me go," she said coldly. "I only came in to collect something I'd left behind."
"Did you now? Funny about that. I had a feeling you'd be coming back."
"I left a brooch in my desk. My father brought me here to collect it. As a matter of fact you'll find him waiting for me downstairs."
"Giving yourself a bit of cover this time, eh?"
"You're talking nonsense." She tried to pull free but the man would not release her and she began to struggle.
"Laura, what's wrong?"
She looked over the watchman's shoulder and saw her father approaching them.
"I came to see what was keeping you," he said.
"I am." The night watchman spoke before Laura had the chance to do so. "Sorry to be a nuisance, Mr. Winters, but I can't let your daughter go until I've spoken to Mr. Andrews."
" What's Mr. Andrews got to do with it? She came here to collect a brooch."
"I must still check with him."
"Why?"
"It might be best if you asked your daughter that question."
Her father looked at her and Laura knew that if she did not explain, the watchman would do so; and heaven alone knew how he would phrase it. Not that phraseology would make much difference. Whatever way one put it, it amounted to the same thing: a thief was a thief.
"Jake's desk was broken into a couple of weeks ago and some plans were stolen," she said. "He… he thought I'd taken them."
"You!" John Winters's voice was high with disbelief. "You can't be serious.''
"It was serious all right," the watchman said. "I've felt right badly about it ever since I caught her. But I had to do my duty and you won't get me to say I made a mistake. Wearing slacks and a green jacket she was. Just like I told Mr. Andrews. "Sides, I'd know that red hair anywhere."
Laura closed her eyes against the despair she knew she would see on her father's face. If grief could kill, she would, like Ophelia, now be in a watery grave.
"Get back to the car, Laura," her father said quietly, and then looked at the other man. "I'll talk to Mr. Andrews in the morning. You needn't fret about tonight. My daughter came here with me."
"As long as you'll take the responsibility, then…"
Not waiting to hear any more, Laura ran out to the car. Within a moment her father joined her and silently turned the car toward home. She clenched her hands in fear against the tirade she knew would be unleashed upon her, but he said nothing and the silence was broken only by the swish of the windshield wipers that monotonously held the rain at bay. How appropriate that rain should have set in, she thought. It was almost as if the heavens were crying for her.
They reached their front gate and, still without a word, went into the house. Her father placed his coat in the closet and she hung hers beside it. Two coats close together, yet after tonight she and her father would never be close again.
"Come into the sitting room," he said. "We have to talk."
She did as she was told and sat by the heater that her hands had automatically switched on. Yet no amount of electricity could warm away the deathly cold that enveloped her.
"I gather that was the real reason you left Grant- ley's?" her father continued. "It had nothing to do with you and Jake quarreling. It was because he thought you were a thief?"
She nodded, unable to speak.
"Why didn't you tell me the truth, lass?" Her father's voice was so gentle that her very bones seemed to melt and she looked up at him directly for the first time, happiness welling inside her as she saw the expression on his face.
Reading her own expression correctly, he gave a slight sad smile. "Don't you think I know my own daughter?" he went on. "You could no more steal anything than pigs can fly! You should have told me the truth."
"I was afraid. That watchman… he's so positive he saw me."
"Tell me what happened. Everything you did the night you were supposed to have been in Jake's office."
She did so, aware of how thin her story sounded. "Nobody saw me after I left Beth's," she concluded. "I just walked around, not caring where I went, not even knowing how long I was walking for. I was so busy thinking of Jake that—"
"And he doesn't believe you?"
"He can't understand how I could have walked around without knowing where I was." She sighed. "I wasn't going to tell him I was so busy thinking of him to even care where I was walking!"
"So you let him think you a thief instead?"
"It was pretty conclusive evidence," she admitted, "and he accepted it readily enough."
" Meaning you wouldn't have done the same? "
"Of course I wouldn't!" she flared. "If you love someone you… you believe them."
"Sometimes love makes you even more suspicious."
John Winters shook his head. "Green jacket and slacks and curly red hair. Doesn't that sound familiar to you?"
Puzzled, Laura looked at h
er father, and with none too gentle hands he pulled her up and drew her to the mirror. "You look very pretty with your hair short, don't you? And it makes you look more than ever like Tim— particularly from the back."
Her breath caught in her throat. "You… you don't mean he… No, not Tim!"
"Who else, then? Do you remember Beth teasing him about not having his hair cut?"
Wordlessly she nodded. An idea that had, at first, seemed incredible, now seemed the most likely solution. But what a dreadful one!
"I can't believe it," she said. "Tim wouldn't steal those plans. He's not a traitor."
"Not to his country," John Winters said heavily. "But any firm in England would have bought them if they'd been the right plans. It was just his bad luck he stole the wrong ones."
"No," she cried. "I don't believe you. He'd never do such a thing."
"It wouldn't be the first time."
Fear caught her, the implications of her father's words shaking her. "You mean he's done it before?"
"Yes. That's why he left Grantley's. He got into debt and tried to sell a list of our customers to another company. Luckily I was able to use my influence with the board to stop him from being prosecuted. Sometimes I wish I'd let matters rest. It might have done him good to face the music. But when it's your own son it's hard to stand by and do nothing!"
"Tim doesn't have a green jacket," she said inconsequentially.
"He has a black leather one, and in fluorescent light it could easily be mistaken for green."
"Why are you so sure it was Tim? Just because he stole a list…"
"Well, I know it wasn't you. But if the watchman says he saw you, then it can only be your double. And that means Tim. I'm going to call Jake and tell him the truth."
Laura ran toward her father. "You mustn't. He'll send him to prison."
"No, he won't. Anyway, he'll end up there sooner or later if something isn't done to put the fear of death in him. This time he stole the wrong plans but next time he might be luckier. No, lass, we've got to put a stop to it while we can."
She shuddered. "I can't bear to think of it. That Tim could…"
"It's just as hard for me, lass."
Contritely she reached out and caught her father's hand. "I know and I'm sorry. I'd do anything to spare you this."
Rachel Lindsay - Rough Diamond Lover Page 14