Next Door to Romance (2 page)

'Of course I don't mind. You know that, Tom!'

'Yes, I suppose I do,' he admitted, and wondered when Lisa would appreciate the fact that she was an extremely attractive and desirable young woman whose company a man would naturally seek—and who would awaken her to that knowledge. Himself? He doubted it! After all, he had had two years of uncontested opportunity in which to achieve that result—and he'd got absolutely nowhere! He and Lisa were the best of friends, but he was only too sure that he'd never yet caused her heart to quicken by so much as a single beat.

Had he been too diffident? Should he have tried shock tactics? he often wondered. But there was something so virginal, so untouched about Lisa that he was afraid to venture, for her sake. When one day she did awaken to the meaning of love and her own need for it, there mustn't be anything rough or frightening about it. It must come gently, joyously—

'Well, let's get going,' Lisa said briskly. 'I've just heard the church clock strike five—everybody will be up and about and spoil it all if we don't buck up!'

Tom came back to earth, his dreams shattered. But reality was very pleasant. To be by Lisa's side on a fresh May morning—he wouldn't have changed places with anyone!

Nor, for that matter, would Lisa. She would have preferred to be alone, but Tom seemed to have plenty of his own thoughts to occupy him for he was so silent that, after a while, Lisa almost forgot he was there and became lost in her own nebulous dreams.

'A penny for them!' Tom challenged as they walked in silence along Honeypot Lane. Lisa gave a little start. 'I was just thinking how marvellous everything is,' she said with a hint of glibness which Tom missed because another aspect of her remark concerned him more.

'Marvellous'—but in quite an impersonal way. Nothing to do with him being there—

' "
God's in His heaven, all's right with the world?"
' he suggested.

Lisa caught his hand in hers, gave it a quick squeeze and let it go.

'That's it, exactly,' she said gratefully. 'You do understand, don't you?'

He didn't reply. He did, indeed, understand only too well for his own comfort. He knew, for instance, exactly what that fleeting gesture had meant. An appreciation that he had understood her mood—nothing more.

They walked on, crossed the road on to which the house faced and came to a stile over which Lisa got with such celerity and skill that Tom's proffered help was superfluous, and so into a field golden with buttercups. Lisa gave a little crow of delight as she scuffed her sandalled feet through them.

'As long as I can remember, this field has been a glory at this time of year—and I've always loved walking through it—just look at our feet and ankles!'

They were powdered with golden dust, smothered in it as they brushed against the pollen-heavy flowers.

'I used to call it fairy gold when I was little,' Lisa confided. 'Once I tried to collect some and melt it down. I thought I'd be able to make money out of it. But of course I couldn't. All I made was a nasty smell because I burnt the saucepan I'd borrowed without permission. I got into hot water for that!'

'Serve you right,' Tom said severely. 'Mercenary little horror!'

'Well, not really,' Lisa defended herself. 'You see, in those days, when the three of us were growing up and all at school, money was a bit short. And I thought how useful it would be—'

'Sorry,' Tom said self-reproachfully. 'I should have known! I say, Lisa, money isn't tight now, is it? Because I could quite well afford to pay your people more.'

'Nice Tom!' Lisa said appreciatively. 'But no, honestly, there's need to worry now. If there were, I'd have had to get a job myself—though goodness knows what I could have done!' she admitted frankly. 'There's always one complete duffer in a family, you know, and I'm it!'

'A girl doesn't need to have passed examinations to be able to turn a house into a home,' Tom told her gruffly.

'Oh, Tom, what a nice thing to have said!' Lisa exclaimed warmly. 'But it's really quite easy when you're fond of people—'

In which category she obviously included him. Well, that was definitely something. In fact, it occurred to him that perhaps, after all, this was the time to tell her how he felt—but he hesitated just too long—and the moment passed.

'Tom—' there was an uncertain, wavering note in her voice which made it clear that she was following some definite line of thought in her own mind. Something, perhaps, that what they had just said had suggested.

'M'm?' he encouraged.

'Tom, do you ever get cross with people?'

He didn't know what he had expected, but certainly not that. However, he gave the matter his full consideration before replying because Lisa, he knew, wouldn't have asked the question if the answer hadn't been of some importance to her.

'Not if I can possibly help it,' he told her. 'To be
cross
—that always suggests to me that there was some-thing a bit petty about what annoyed or irritated you. Something you'd really be wiser to shrug your shoulders over—and do your best to forget. Now, if you'd said —did I ever get flamingly angry—' he paused significantly.

'Oh, do you?' Lisa was sufficiently interested in this to be diverted from her own affairs. 'I've never seen any sign of it!'

'I hope you never do,' Tom said shortly.

'Well, so do I—but still, what sort of things make you angry?' Lisa persisted.

'Well—' he scowled and a muscle twitched at the corner of his mouth. 'Cruelty, in any form. Taking advantage of the fact that you're strong to make the weak suffer. But we've got right away from the subject. What's worrying you, Lisa?'

'Well, you know Mrs Blewett, don't you?'

'Mill Cottage, two grossly fat dachshunds and a parrot that her sailor brother brought home years ago. The poor thing spends most of its time with a cover over the cage. It
has
got rather a ripe turn of language at times!'

Lisa gave a little spurt of laughter before she went on:

'And you know she's got a niece who goes in for dog-breeding?'

Tom groaned.

'Do I not! I get that confounded girl rammed down my throat every time I have to go to the house, which is frequently because the dogs are always ailing. I can't get her to understand that they—but what's she got to do with you being worried, Lisa?'

'I met Mrs Blewett yesterday,' Lisa explained. 'She told me that Celia—the niece—is coming to live with her—she's bought a half share in the kennels over at Ranstead.'

'Oh no!' Tom exclaimed, horrified. 'That's the very end! But I still don't see why you—'

'She was very full of it, of course. I thought she'd never stop, and then, quite suddenly, she switched on to the question of girls training properly for a career. She thought every girl ought to do that because, after all, one can't be sure of getting married, can one? And in any case, it develops a girl's mind—and that always makes her so much more interesting, particularly to men, don't you think?'

Tom's lips twitched slightly. He knew that Lisa was repeating word for word what Mrs Blewett had said and her voice had taken on the very tone of that lady. At any other time he would have congratulated Lisa on her mimicry, but this, he realized, was too serious an occasion for that.

'And then—' Lisa went on in her own voice, 'before I could stop her, she began a—a personal attack on Mummy and Daddy—'

'What!' Tom stood still in astonishment. 'But she couldn't! I mean, what is there to attack them about? They're the kindest, finest people—'

'Of course they are! But Mrs Blewett evidently doesn't realize that. She didn't say so in so many words —her sort never does—but all the same, she made it perfectly clear that in her opinion they were selfish and inconsiderate to have kept me at home instead of paying for me to have some sort of training.'

'Of all the cheek!' Tom said indignantly. 'So what did you say to that?'

'I told her that, fortunately, we weren't all made the same way, and that I was perfectly happy working at home. And that's true, Tom. But it didn't impress her. She simply said that loyalty was a very charming characteristic, but that I mustn't take it so far that my own interests suffered. And that—' she drew a deep breath, 'was where I lost my temper!'

'Small blame to you!' Tom declared. 'Old cat!'

Lisa slipped her arm through his and gave it one of her impulsive hugs.

'She is, isn't she? But all the same,
does
it do any good to tell a person just what you think of them like that?'

'Perhaps not,' Tom admitted. 'But on the other hand, what would she have thought if you hadn't spoken your mind? That you were agreeing with her? She'd have made fine capital out of that! No, you had to do it, Lisa.'

'I think I did,' she agreed. 'But what's worrying me is—will she say the same sort of thing to Mummy and Daddy—or to other people so that it gets round to them? It would make them so unhappy.'

'Well—' Tom considered the matter in his usual deliberate way— 'she may talk—she's that sort. But then everybody knows she is, so precious few people take any notice of her malicious clap-trap. Least of all your people. They're much too sensible.'

'They would be—if this was about anybody but me,' Lisa replied. 'But because it
is
me, then they could so easily begin to wonder if, perhaps, there was something in it—something to which they'd unintentionally blinded themselves—'

'I see what you mean,' Tom acknowledged. 'Give me a moment or two to think that one out, Lisa.'

'All right,' she agreed, and fell silent.

They had left the buttercup field now and were skirting the edge of another where regular lines of tender green shoots were sprouting, and had almost reached the river before Tom came up with an idea.

'How would it be if you
were
to get a job?'

'But, Tom, I can't do that!' Lisa reminded him a little impatiently. 'I've got to be at home. You know perfectly well Chat though Mummy never makes a fuss about it, her arthritis really does make it quite impossible for her to do housework!'

'Well, I can offer you a job which would mean that you could still be at home,' he told her.

'
You
could, Tom?' Lisa said uncomprehendingly. 'But how?'

Tom hesitated. He could, indeed, have offered her a job—a full-time one which would last so long as they both lived, and it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her so. But he put the temptation aside. The candid directness of Lisa's eyes convinced him that this would not be the time—if, indeed, there would ever be a time—

'As my secretary-cum-assistant-cum-receptionist,' he explained with a crispness which entirely distracted Lisa's thoughts from the significance of that pause.

Lisa's eyes widened in perplexity.

'But I lend you a hand now—'

'I know you do—and I don't know what I'd do without your help. But I need more now Teasdale's practically out of it. With the book work, for one thing—on a business footing, of course.'

'I'm not sure I could do that,' Lisa said doubtfully. 'You know what a duffer I am over figures. Besides—'

'Well?'

'Well, I like helping you, Tom. So how could I possibly—'

'Let me pay you for what you do?' Tom had no difficulty in following the way her thoughts had gone. 'Now, just you listen to me, my girl. Try to see it from my point of view. How do you think
I
feel, taking advantage of your friendship and good nature to get out of paying you a penny for all you do? And even more than that, how can I possibly ask you, very coolly, if you'd kindly do more
without
making it a business proposition? And before you answer one, get this clear. I'm not trying to make a job out of nothing just to suit you. I'd rather have you than anybody else, Lisa, but you can take my word for it, if you don't feel you can take this on, then I'll have to find someone else!'

'Honest Injun?' she asked seriously.

' "Cross my heart and hope to die, cut my throat if I tell a lie!" ' Tom recited as gravely. 'So how about it, Lisa?'

'All right,' she promised. 'If Mummy and Daddy agree, it's a deal!'

'Splendid!' Tom said briskly. 'Then I'll ask around and see what the current rates for that sort of work are.'

'Ask whom?' Lisa asked suspiciously. She had a conviction that Tom would try to pay her too much!

But he had an answer ready.

'Dr Mayhew's secretary—Miss Jenkins. She does the same sort of work—only, of course, she's not in any danger of being bitten by any of Mayhew's patients—so, naturally, I'll pay you more.'

'Oh no, you won't,' Lisa contradicted firmly. 'Miss Jenkins has had a lot of experience. I haven't. So you should pay me less—'

'Look, we'll compromise,' Tom told her. 'I'll say no more about the possibility of you getting bitten if you'll hush up about yours and Miss Jenkins' relative values. O.K.?'

'O.K.,' Lisa agreed, but was conscious of no feeling of elation because her worry was cleared up. In fact, she even felt depressed.

Tom had, she knew quite well, found a perfect solution to her problem, and one that ought to make Mrs Blewett stop being a nuisance. And yet she couldn't entirely welcome the arrangement.

The trouble was that though she accepted quite willingly the knowledge that she was needed at home, it was so difficult not to want to spread her wings, and this morning the feeling had been particularly strong. Everything seemed so young and venturesome, and she wanted to share in that spirit of challenge.

But now, if her parents agreed to Tom's suggestion, and she knew quite well that they would, she would be more than ever tied to the house. Involuntarily she sighed and then, feeling guilty of ingratitude, she glanced down at her silent companion, hoping he hadn't noticed that revealing sigh.

And Tom, flat on his back, was fast asleep!

'Poor old Tom!' Lisa thought sympathetically. Despite his denial, he was tired. Well—she looked at her watch—he could have at least an hour's sleep—

Her eyes lingered momentarily on his face. It wasn't handsome. His red hair wouldn't have been everybody's choice, and his features were anything but regular. But there was an essential kindness and integrity there, and even in his sleep there was strength. You could trust Tom! It was queer, she thought, that though she had only known him for a couple of years, she felt as if he had always been part of her life—a good solid background on which she could rely.