"Even to letting Jake think you guilty?"
"I don't care what he thinks," she said firmly. "If he hadn't any faith in me …….."
"Well, I'll not argue that one again. You're as stubborn as a mule. But I still don't intend to let you have your character ruined on account of your brother. Jake has to be told the truth."
"Talk to Tim first," Laura pleaded.
"What good will it do?"
Ignoring the question, she went into the hall and dialed her brother's number. He picked up the telephone almost at once, his voice so eager that she guessed he was waiting for a call from a girl.
"Laura," he said, his voice going flat. "How nice to hear from you. How are things at home?"
"Fine." She clutched the receiver with damp hands. "We, that is, dad would like to see you."
"I'll probably be over for lunch next Sunday. I'll phone on Friday and let you know for sure."
"Dad wants to see you before then. It's important."
"Really? What's up?"
"He'd rather tell you himself. Can you come over tomorrow?"
"I can't. I've got a date."
"Well, break it," she said sharply. "We'll expect you tomorrow, Tim."
For most of that night Laura paced the floor of her room. Memories of her childhood would not allow her to rest, and the escapades she and Tim had shared haunted the long hours. Could her brother really be the thief? As she posed the question she knew the answer. Tim had always wanted to be top dog, to have the best of everything regardless of where the money came from. As a youngster he had always had to have the largest boat, the biggest bike, the latest fashion in clothes. Many children were the same but they grew up to be normal, decent citizens; a little more ambitious than most, perhaps, even a little pushier. But not necessarily corrupt.
But her father had said Tim had stolen before. That was a fact that could not be overlooked. Wearily she leaned against the window ledge and stared at the dark, rain-lashed sky. Why was her brother different? When had things gone wrong for him? Was it because their mother had died when he was at an impressionable age, or did the failure lie within himself? It was a question even a psychiatrist could not have answered, and for her to try to do so was ridiculous.
Once again she paced the floor. If only her own name could be cleared without having to implicate Tim! And what would Jake do when he learned the truth? If there was any possibility that her brother might go to prison, she would beg her father not to tell him who the real culprit was. No matter what personal happiness it cost her, she could not allow Tim's life to be ruined. She would speak to him… make him see the stupidity of his actions… But he had already stolen before and gotten away with it. If he went free this time, who knew where he would end up?
The question was still tormenting her the following evening when, dinner nearly over, she heard her brother's motorbike roaring down the road. A moment later the bell rang and she ran to answer it.
Grinning, he stepped into the hall. "Here I am. Now tell me what all the fuss is about."
" I'd rather leave it to dad.''
Raising his eyebrows, he went into the dining room, the smile leaving his face as he saw the look on his father's."I'm here, dad."
"Not before time." John Winters stood up, glancing at the rest of his food with distaste. "I might have known you wouldn't be able to go straight for long."
"What's all this in aid of?"
"Don't waste time lying or looking innocent. I know the truth and so does Laura."
Tim glanced at his sister and then back to his father. "Truth about what?"
"About the plans you stole from Grantley's. The worthless plans you took to try to sell to someone else!"
For a moment it looked as though Tim would try and bluff it out. Then he shrugged and sat down at the table. "Okay. I'm guilty."
John Winters gripped the edge of his chair until his knuckles showed white. "Why, Tim? Why did you do it again? Why can't you go straight?"
"I could give you plenty of reasons but they all add up to the same thing. Monty." He glanced at his sister. "You were right, Laura. I'm running with a fast crowd and it's hard to keep up with them. I got into debt."
"Why didn't you come to me? " his father asked.
"And have you read me a sermon the way you always do!"Tim's face changed, grew rueful. "I'm sorry, dad, I didn't mean that. The real reason is that I didn't want you to know I'd let you down again. I owed money all 'round and I couldn't see my way out. Someone told me Harold Simpson was in the market for information about his business rivals and I was here one evening when I heard you talking on the phone to Jake Andrews.
I realized then you were working on something new. Something big. I figured Andrews would be in charge of it, so I broke into his office." His mouth gave a nervous twitch. "You're too trusting, dad. You left your keys around and I was able to take an impression and get a set copied. I know you won't believe me, but even while I was doing it, I almost hoped the keys wouldn't fit. But they worked like a dream and I was able to get into the factory without any trouble. I didn't dream I'd got hold of the wrong plans until I took them to Simpson."
John Winters went paler than he already was, and Laura knew what a blow it must be to him to realize that his old friend knew how treacherous his son was.
"You mean you actually took the plans to Harold?"
"That's why I wanted them in the first place." Tim was now making no attempt to excuse himself and Laura remembered how he had been as a little boy, when he would stare you in the face and lie until, confronted with the knowledge that lying was no longer possible, there would come the quick smile, the tears and the immediate confession.
"What did Harold do?" John Winters asked fearfully.
It was only then that Tim showed his first sign of remorse. "Something I'd never expected. He blew his top. Gave me the worst bawling out of my life. Said he'd do nothing to encourage the son of a friend of his to become a thief."
Laura, logical as ever, said, "Do you think he'd have bought the formula if it had been the right one?"
"Not if it came from me. He made that very plain. But he offered to settle my debts and give me a new start in Australia."
John Winters half rose from his chair. "He did that?"
"Surprising, isn't it? I was shattered.''
"Did you accept?" Laura asked.
"You bet. It was too good to refuse. I was going to tell you this weekend, Laura. I didn't know you'd be blamed for this break-in, though. Once I discovered the plans were worthless, I took it for granted Andrews wouldn't do anything about it."
"Did Jake strike you as the sort of man who'd ignore the fact that his desk had been burgled?" she said angrily.
"I thought he'd assumed it was someone in the factory who was just curious. I never dreamed he'd blame you!" Tim came over to her. "I've not been much good as a brother, but I'd never let you be blamed for something I'd done. Not something as serious as this. I'll go and see Jake Andrews right away and tell the truth."
"You mustn't."She caught his hand. "Ifyou tell him, he might decide to prosecute."
"He wouldn't do that," her father protested.
"Are you a hundred percent sure?"
"Of course not, but—"
"Then we can't take a chance on it," she interrupted firmly. "If Tim goes to Australia he'll have the chance of starting a new life. I couldn't bear to do anything to stop it."
"I don't intend to clear off and leave you to carry the blame, "Tim said.
"It doesn't matter. It's over and done with."
"No." Tim squeezed her hands tightly. "I want to make a new life for myself, but I won't stand a chance if I leave without clearing your name first."
Behind them their father stood up. He came over and put his arm on his son's shoulder. "You've spoken like a man, Tim. I'm glad.''
Tim zipped up his jacket—the black suede one, Laura noticed illogically—and walked to the door. "Where does Jake Andrews live?"
&nbs
p; "A couple of miles from here. Go past Grantley's and take the first fork on the left. It's a wide road with houses set back behind high walls. Jake has rooms in the last one on the left."
With a half wave. Tim walked out. The front door slammed, the motorbike revved and then there was silence.
Laura and her father looked at one another and the tears in her eyes were reflected in his. She went to the window and pulled aside the curtain. It was raining again and the wind moaned through the trees.
"What do you think Jake will do?" she asked. "Do you think he'll have Tim arrested?"
"I doubt it. First he'll tear a strip off him—which Tim won't forget in a hurry—then he'll come here and eat dirt." Her father half smiled. "As much as you'll dish out to him."
She let the curtain drop back into position, remembering the time, so long ago it seemed now, when she had gone to Grantley's on a Monday morning determined to put aside her pride and tell Jake she loved him. But now such a confession was out of the question. If he could have believed her to be a thief, he could have no deep understanding of her.
"Don't judge Jake too harshly," her father said. "He was always sensitive where you were concerned. That's why he resented you. You got under his skin in a way no woman has ever done."
"You sound very sure of the way he feels."
"I've worked with him. I've talked with him far into the night. You mean something to him."
"You've never said any of this before," Laura murmured.
"I didn't want to interfere. But since you left the factory I've been watching him; and a man of Jake's temperament doesn't act the way he's been acting, unless he's in a hell of a state. Mark my words, lass, he'll be here within the hour."
The minutes ticked away as though in slow motion. Restlessly she went into the kitchen to make tea. She put the cups on the tray, then the biscuits; each action automatic, done to fill time.
She had just brought the tray into the living room when the doorbell rang. The crockery rattled and she looked at her father. He half stood, then sat down again.
"It wasn't a motorbike, so it must be Jake," he said. "You go, Laura."
Slowly she went to the front door and opened it. Jake stood on the threshold. Rain had flattened his hair and ran in rivulets down his face. He stared at her without a word and she stretched out a hand.
"Jake! I'm so glad you came." He stepped into the hall and only then, as the light fell on his face, did she see tautness in his features. Her joy seeped away. "What's wrong?"
Without replying he put his hand under her elbow and led her into the living room.
John Winters rose. "Hello, Jake. I take it you've seen Tim?"
Jake hesitated, as though puzzled by the question. He pulled back his shoulders and then looked around the room as if he found it difficult to meet their eyes.
"Yes," he said in a low voice. "I… I saw him. I was on my way to the factory to collect some papers when he passed me on his motorbike. I was surprised to see him down my road—it isn't on his way to Manchester—and I wondered if you'd asked him to deliver me those diagrams you'd been checking." Jake went to the mantelpiece and stared down into the electric heater. The glow of the bars cast a reddish color upon his skin but failed to disguise its pallor. "I stopped and called him but he didn't hear me—it was raining too hard—so I turned back to see if he really was making for my place. Suddenly a little girl ran into the road from behind a parked car. Tim swerved to avoid her and… God, John, I'd give anything not to have to tell you this, but he… he…"
"Out with it, Jake," the older man said faintly.
Jake lowered his head. "He ran straight into a brick wall. It was the only way he could miss the child and he took it."
Laura swayed and clutched at the table for support.
"You mean he______ " She could not go on and Jake finished the sentence for her.
"He's dead. I ran back but there was nothing I could do." His voice shook. "Tim didn't have a chance. It was him or the child. I know it's not much consolation to you, but he died like a hero."
Laura looked at her father and then turned l(o Jake, knowing in that instant what she had to say.
"Tim was here to dinner. He was on his way home and must have taken a wrong turn."
"Laura!" her father said.
Across the room she stared at him and, knowing what she was pleading for, he looked away. Tim had never lived like a hero but he had died like one, and no matter what happened to her own life, she had no intention of doing anything to diminish the brave way he had chosen death.
CHAPTER NINE
Although Laura was content with the decision she had made not to tell Jake about Tim, her father was in total disagreement and, a week after Tim's funeral, told her he was not going to be a party to her silence. A momentary temptation almost made her accept this, but love for her twin was stronger still, and she stubbornly insisted that nothing be done to smirch his name.
"But Tim wanted Jake to know the truth," her father insisted.
"It's pointless," Laura replied. "If Jake had believed in me despite the evidence, it would have meant something to me to tell him the truth. But to drag Tim's name in the dirt to satisfy my ego… no, dad. Things are best left as they are."
"But if Jake knew the truth, you'd stand a chance of getting together with him."
"There's no love without trust."
Accepting this, her father did not broach the subject again, and they both tried to resume the pattern of their lives. Laura was too apathetic to do anything except remain at home. She had not seen much of Tim in the past year, yet his death left a gap in her life that she felt could never be filled.
"You've got to snap out of this depression," Robert said one day, when she voiced her thoughts to him. "You know Move you. I wish you'd marry me."
"It wouldn't be fair. Liking someone isn't a basis for marriage."
"At least think about it." He caught her hand. "Will you?"
It was easier for her to give in to Robert's request than to argue with him, and as the weeks passed she became more and more dependent on his company. She was still pondering whether or not to accept his proposal when Beth told her of a possible job.
"The Ministry of Health is doing a survey on the diet of industrial workers in the Midlands and the North, and you have exactly the qualifications they're looking for."
"I'd have to travel around quite a bit, though. What would happen to Dad?"
"I'll undertake to see his protein intake doesn't suffer the nights you can't get home!"
"So that's it. You're a designing female after all!"
Beth looked so embarrassed that Laura stared at her in surprise. Words she had said as a joke did not seem to be a joke after all. How wonderful if Beth and her father were to fall in love. She almost said as much but then held her tongue. She had no idea how her father felt and was reluctant to give her friend false hopes.
Laura's letter of application gained her an immediate interview with Professor James, the dietitian in charge of the project. Her work at Grantley's stood her in good stead and she was convinced it gave her an advantage over the other applicants. A week later he telephoned her to say she had been accepted, and within forty-eight hours she had joined the ranks of the employed.
From then on she was too busy to brood. Nothing could completely erase the pain of Tim's death nor the sense of loss she felt each time she heard Jake's name, but she had hopes that time would help her to forget the past, and she was no longer reliant on Robert.
A month passed and Laura was busily and happily occupied. She had been asked to write a report based on her experience of running the canteen at Grantley's, and she was delighted to find she could think of Jake without feeling her bones turn to jelly.
Nonetheless she was glad when she had delivered it to the professor and could continue her normal routine of interviewing and traveling from factory to factory; though the mileage she put in meant she was rarely home before nine or ten at night, and
frequently had to stop over at a hotel.
"You're working too hard," her father commented one morning when she was—unusually for her—able to stay home for a day.
"It's better than being idle. Anyway, I enjoy it. If—"
The telephone bell interrupted her and she went to answer it, almost dropping the receiver as she heard Jake's voice, brusque and blunt as ever. So much for her hopes that he meant nothing to her. Shaking, she leaned against the wall.
"I'll fetch dad,"she said huskily.
"You're the one I want. Professor James has sent me the report you've written about our canteen. He wants me to let him publish it."
She swallowed hard. "Will you?"
"Yes. But I've a few things I'd like to add to it. I'm in my office now. Get over here as soon as you can and I 'll tell you what they are."
There was no "Will you?" or "Is it convenient?" Just the bland assumption that she would do as he said. Yet somehow she wasn't annoyed by his manner; instinct told her that his attitude stemmed from embarrassment. He needed to see her and, bearing in mind the situation between them, only by keeping it strictly businesslike would it be bearable.
Calling out to her father that she was going to Grant- ley's with him, she rushed upstairs and slipped into a dark green suit. It made her hair look a richer Titian, which in turn emphasized her pallor, and she carefully applied rouge to her cheeks. Not for anything would she give Jake the satisfaction of knowing how much she still hungered for him.
Entering his office she was reminded of the last occasion she had been here. But the memory did not show on her face, which was as composed as though this meeting with him were one of the routine ones she was now used to having with factory management.
As usual he was in shirtsleeves, his powerful shoulders outlined against the dark gray wall behind him. "You're looking well, Laura."
"I am." Her voice was cool. "I love the job."
"That's a weight off my mind."
Her head rose indignantly and her resolution to keep her control began to slip. "Don't pretend you lost any sleep over firing me!"
His hands clenched on the desk. "Don't you think it's time to forgive and forget?"
Rachel Lindsay - Rough Diamond Lover Page 15