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‘Mummy’s brought making people feel guilty to a fine art,’ Melanie remarked dispassionately when they were alone. ‘I think that’s probably why Daddy never confided in her about the mess he was in. He knew she’d make it a hundred times worse.’
‘Don’t say that, Melly.’ Alison gave her a wry look. ‘This must have been the worst week of her life. She loved Daddy very much, you know.’
‘Yes, but she never helped him.’ Melanie put another log on the fire. ‘If he’d asked her to economise, she wouldn’t have known what he meant. He couldn’t—lean on her when the going got rough. I don’t suppose she even knew he’d been having chest pains for months.’
‘No, but then neither did I,’ Alison said quietly, wincing a little.
‘He probably thought you had enough on your plate already.’ Melanie began to fiddle with the handle of the poker. She said suddenly, ‘This is going to be my last term at Mascombe Park, isn’t it?’
‘The honest answer is, “Probably”,’ Alison admitted after a pause.
‘I guessed.’ Melanie’s face was mournful. ‘I suppose I could try and get a place in the local comprehensive, although the course will probably be different. Or would it be more help if I tried to get a job?’
‘No.’ Alison shook her head positively. ‘You’re Oxbridge material, Mel. You can’t give that prospect up without a struggle.’
‘I don’t want to.’ Melanie gave a faint grin. ‘But something tells me that if we can’t manage the fees, Miss Lesley will give me up without a struggle all right.’
‘There used to be bursaries and things,’ Alison frowned. ‘I suppose we could enquire.’
‘Mm.’ Melanie gave a slight grimace. ‘It would be hateful, though, going cap in hand. I’m not sure I wouldn’t rather leave.’
‘Well, don’t let’s make any hasty decisions,’ said Alison. ‘Mr Liddell’s coming back tomorrow to talk over a few things, and I’ll see what he has to say.’ She hesitated. ‘I would have mentioned it earlier, but I don’t want to discuss personal family things in front of Nicholas Bristow.’
‘You really don’t like him, do you?’ Melanie gave a little sigh. ‘I think he’s amazing! I wish I was Hester Monclair, lucky bitch. Of course she’s gorgeous-looking, and sophisticated, and she probably knows exactly how to turn him on in bed …’
Alison was surprised into unwilling laugher. ‘Mel, for God’s sake! Don’t let Mummy hear you.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’ Melanie put her head on one side. ‘But don’t you fancy him, Ally? If you’re honest, in your heart of hearts, just a little? You can’t really prefer boring old Simon.’
‘Simon is neither boring nor old,’ Alison said calmly. ‘And I wasn’t aware that my sexual preferences—or Nick Bristow’s for that matter—were on the “A” level curriculum. Stick to Eng. Lit.—it’s safer.’
‘What’s safe?’ asked Melanie, getting restlessly to her feet. ‘We’re all going to be living dangerously from now on.’
With her world visibly crumbling around her, it was a relief to Alison to find that the office hadn’t changed. And nor had Simon, who seemed endearingly pleased to see her. The locality had been buzzing with gossip since the funeral, Alison knew, but Simon, with noble tact, refrained from asking any questions about the disposal of Ladymead.
He simply said that a smaller, more convenient house was vital, and promised to keep his eyes and ears open for suitable properties coming on to the market.
She was glad to be back at work. Melanie had returned to Mascombe Park, although for how much longer was anyone’s guess. Alec Liddell had pursed his lips ruefully over the question of school fees, and when Alison had attempted to discuss the problem with her mother, Mrs Mortimer had dissolved into floods of tears.
It was not an attitude which helped, Alison thought tiredly, as she looked through an assortment of bungalow details. But then her mother’s behaviour generally was giving her deep cause for concern. She wasn’t eating, and hardly ever left her room. Alison had tried to persuade her to take up the Bosworths’ invitation, although she supposed, privately, it was a rotten trick to play on Aunt Beth, but Mrs Mortimer wouldn’t hear of it. She seemed to have it fixed on her mind that if she ever left Ladymead, it would be for ever, and Alison knew that the doctor was as worried about her state of mind as she was herself. He had started talking in guarded tones about the possibility of treatment in a complete change of scene, and the sound of it made Alison’s heart sink.
‘Are you saying my mother needs to see a psychiatrist?’ she had asked.
Dr Barnet had given her a straight look. ‘She’s clearly in a very disturbed state,’ he had returned. ‘Bereavement is usually enough of a trauma for anyone to cope with, but when you add the other losses your mother is suffering …’ He shrugged. ‘Frankly, it’s enough to undermine the emotional constitution of someone with three times her strength. And, unfortunately, she’s become fixated on this house as a symbol of her security rather than you or Melanie. It’s not a healthy situation.’
He could say that again, Alison thought, shoving the bungalow details back into their folders with scant respect. Nicholas Bristow had said he wouldn’t evict them—but the way her mother was reacting, he might have to.
‘It’s my home,’ her mother kept reiterating. ‘My only home. He can’t take it away from me!’
The fact that they could no longer afford to live there seemed to have escaped her completely, Alison thought wryly.
She was thankful to have her work to immerse herself in once again, and she and Simon had already tentatively discussed the terms by which she would work for him full time.
It was a relief to know she would have a wage she could live on, but it didn’t solve Melanie’s problem, as the letter she had received only that morning served to underline. Melanie had had a preliminary interview with Miss Lesley, her formidable headmistress. It had been relatively civilised, Mel wrote, but the question of where the next term’s fees would be coming from had inevitably been raised.
And that was the problem in the forefront of Alison’s mind as she drove her elderly Mini back to Ladymead that evening.
As she rounded the last bend in the drive, she was surprised to see another car parked outside the front door. She didn’t recognise the number plate, she thought frowningly, as she switched off her engine and got out, and she certainly wasn’t expecting visitors.
As she walked into the hall, Mrs Horner appeared. ‘It’s that Mr Bristow,’ she said in an undertone. ‘He’s been here over an hour. Asked for you specific, and not for madam, so I made him some coffee and hope I did right.’
‘Quite right,’ Alison said promptly, her spirits plummeting. ‘Is he in the drawing room?’
‘He is, miss. I told him madam wasn’t too well, and that you were at work, but it made no difference. Said he’d wait.’
‘Oh?’ Alison returned wanly, as she unbuttoned her jacket.
He was standing by the fireplace, one arm resting on the mantelshelf, as he looked broodingly down into the flames. His head came round sharply as Alison closed the drawing room door.
‘You’re late, Miss Mortimer,’ he remarked impatiently. ‘I didn’t know your work included overtime.’
‘It doesn’t as a rule.’ She dropped her jacket over the back of a chair, aware of the disparaging glance he sent her plain navy dress. ‘Just as I was leaving, my boss called me back to say he’d heard about a cottage that might suit us.’
‘Oh.’ He didn’t appear to receive the news with ill-concealed delight. In fact, he frowned slightly. ‘Where is this place?’
‘Far enough away for us to be able to avoid each other,’ she returned composedly.
His lips tightened. ‘I see. And have you made an offer for it.?’
‘Hardly. My mother and I have to see it first.’ Alison touched the coffee pot and grimaced. ‘This is cold. May I offer you some fresh?’
‘No, thanks,’ he said. ‘But I’d sell my soul for a large Scotch—it’s been one hell of a day.’
She gave him a surprised look under her lashes as she turned to get his drink. She was probably imagining things, but he seemed almost ill at ease.
‘And you’d better have one too.’ His voice followed her. ‘You may need it.’
She poured a measure of Scotch into a glass and handed it to him. ‘No, thank you. I’ve managed to cope so far without propping myself up with alcohol.’
‘My congratulations.’ He raised his glass in a parody of a toast. ‘You’re clearly not as fragile as you look. I hope you can overlook the weaknesses of lesser mortals.’
‘Admitting to weakness?’ Alison asked sweetly. ‘How very uncharacteristic!’
‘Make the most of it,’ he drawled, his eyes glinting. There was a brief silence, then he said abruptly, ‘I didn’t intend to come here in person. I was going to approach you through Alex Liddell in the first instance.’
She stared at him, suddenly dry-mouthed. She said huskily, ‘I suppose you want us to leave.’
‘No, on the contrary …’
‘You’ve changed your mind? You’re going to let us stay here?’ Alison’s heart leapt in joyous incredulity as she stared at him.
He frowned again. ‘I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that. A few days ago I contacted Liddell, and told him I would prefer it if the present staff continued working for me, if they were willing. I mentioned I’d like to meet the housekeeper for a preliminary chat.’ He paused again. ‘I must confess his reply staggered me.’
Alison sat down. ‘He told you I was the housekeeper?’ She shrugged. ‘There’s no problem, Mr Bristow. I can guarantee I won’t take you to the industrial tribunal for firing me, and hiring someone else.’
He said abruptly, ‘Isn’t this formality rather overdone? My name is Nick.’
‘To your friends, perhaps,’ she said coolly. ‘But you’ll never count me in that small and exclusive company. I prefer formality.’
‘As you wish,’ he said coldly. ‘But it imposes additional difficulties on the proposition I’m about to put to you.’
Alison’s brows shot up. ‘You’re not offering me the job of housekeeper, I hope?’
‘Yes, I am,’ he said shortly. ‘And before you turn me down, perhaps you’d better listen to the whole deal.’
‘You think any deal on earth could persuade me to be your servant?’ Alison asked dazedly. ‘My God, you have some gall!’
‘Listen to me,’ he said impatiently. ‘If you agree to what I want, you can have the lot. The house as your own, a self-contained flat for your mother—anything you wish.’ He hesitated, then added flatly, ‘And I understand from Liddell that your sister’s school fees are a problem. I’ll pay them, and see her through university too, if she makes the grade.’
Alison got to her feet. ‘I wouldn’t have any more Scotch,’ she said sarcastically. ‘You’re obviously not well.’
He gave a short derisive laugh. ‘In other words, I’m either drunk, or out of my mind! I’m neither, I assure you. I’ve thought it all out very carefully, and it seems to me to be an ideal solution to a number of mutual problems.’
‘I think a good domestic staff agency would be an even better solution, and cheaper in the long run.’ She began to move towards the door, but he came after her and took hold of her arm, halting her.
She tried angrily to shake herself free. ‘Let go of me!’
‘When you’ve heard me out,’ he said inexorably. ‘Sit down, Alison.’
‘There’s no point in my listening to any more of this. I have no intention of becoming your servant!’ She stared at him in hostility and defiance.
‘I’m not asking you to be a servant,’ he said. ‘Actually, I’m asking you to become my wife.’
There was a long pause, then Alison said shakily, ‘You really must be—insane.’
‘On the contrary, I’m perfectly sober, and in my right mind.’ He pushed her back on to the sofa. ‘Will you just listen for two minutes? I want this house to be run with the kind of calm efficiency I’ve noticed on each of my visits, and in spite of the fact you look about sixteen years old, I now know this is all your doing. But it doesn’t stop there. I also need a hostess—someone used to entertaining—someone to accompany me in public when necessary. In other words, I want a wife.’
‘Then I’m sure there’s a whole queue of willing ladies only too happy to accommodate you,’ she said stonily. ‘Why pick on me?’
‘If I wanted romance—passion—all the usual ingredients, why indeed?’ His voice was ironic. ‘But I don’t. I want the practical advantages of marriage without the emotional involvement. And if you agreed to marry me, that’s the kind of arrangement it would be.’ His brows rose at the sound of her little indrawn breath. ‘Or did you by some chance think I might have fallen madly in love with you?’
‘No,’ she said tautly, ‘I didn’t.’
‘Then we’ve achieved one level of understanding at least,’ he observed sardonically. ‘Think about it, Alison. Your old home, and comfort and security for your family, in return for continuing to run this house, and acting the part of the dutiful wife in public.’
‘I think marriage to you is a high price to pay, even for total security,’ she said quietly.
‘But as I’ve tried to make clear, it wouldn’t be a marriage in any real sense,’ he pointed out impatiently.
‘I understand that.’ Alison shook her head, aware of a growing feeling of unreality. ‘But would you really be content with such a cold-blooded arrangement for the rest of your life?’
‘If I thought for one minute I was capable of finding the kind of genuine happiness my parents enjoyed, then probably not.’ Nick Bristow gave a faint shrug. ‘But that isn’t going to happen. And I’m certainly not interested in saddling myself with declarations of undying love, and the inevitable tantrums when the thing comes unstuck. I know damned well what an ephemeral thing eternal passion is, at least where women are concerned.’
‘Are men any different?’ Alison asked steadily. ‘Perhaps you’ve just been unfortunate.’
‘Maybe.’ He shrugged again. ‘I’m in no real position to judge, but among my own friends I’ve seen any number totally committed to their marriages, and unable to see that their devoted wives are already looking over their shoulders, waiting for the next well-heeled idiot to come along so they can play change partners.’ His mouth curled slightly. ‘That isn’t what I want. And I can’t see why you and I shouldn’t reach some kind of bargain which would satisfy us both.’ He paused, the blue eyes measuring her. ‘As an extra incentive,’ he said, ‘I know of someone who might be interested in buying your father’s works as a going concern, instead of letting it fall into the hands of the receiver.’
‘How wonderful to be able to exert such influence,’ she said quietly. ‘I only wish my future wasn’t going to be part of all this wheeling and dealing. It tends to have an unsettling effect.’
The dark face held impatience. ‘What reassurance can I offer? If you want a written contract, then I’ll have one drawn up. You can impose whatever safeguards seem good to you. A mutual guarantee, if you like, that we won’t interfere in each other’s lives.’
‘In other words, I’m not to enquire too closely into where you go, or what company you keep,’ Alison said scornfully. ‘I find that a revolting idea!’
‘I can’t see why any extra-mural activities of mine should affect you at all,’ he said cynically. He paused. ‘Unless, of course, it’s you that has fallen madly in love with me.’
‘Nothing,’ she assured him, ‘could be further from the truth.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ he said drily. ‘So why introduce emotional hassle into what is purely a business arrangement? If I were offering you any other kind of job, you wouldn’t be probing into my moral rectitude.’
There was a kind of brutal truth in that, she was forced to admit.
‘At the risk of probing further,’ she said, after a brief hesitation, ‘I thought there was a lady in your life already—someone you planned to marry, when it was convenient …’
‘You mean when her divorce became final?’ He studied Alison’s responding flush with open mockery. ‘I’m afraid you’re under a misapprehension, my dear. And so is the lady, as I’ve had to make clear to her. She’ll be far better off staying with her husband. He may be dull, but he stands to inherit a baronetcy.’
Alison’s eyes widened indignantly. ‘Isn’t that rather callous?’
‘It might be,’ he agreed, ‘if I’d helped to put her marriage on the rocks on the first place. As it happens, I didn’t. Nor do I appreciate her throwing my name to any tame gossip columnist she had hanging round.’ The firm mouth hardened into implacability, and in spite of herself, Alison shivered. ‘I have no intention of being dragged into the Monclairs’ current bout of mud-slinging, and finding myself an alternative bride without delay will help to snuff out any further speculation in that quarter.’ He smiled faintly. ‘As you see, the favours work both ways.’
Alison ran the tip of her tongue around her drying lips. ‘If you want simply to be engaged—on a temporary basis—then maybe …’
‘I don’t,’ he interrupted. ‘I’ve told you my terms. I want a real engagement, to be followed in due course by a conventional wedding—although I suppose I’ll have to spare you the white lace and orange blossom,’ he added, his eyes flicking over her dismissively.
‘Thank you,’ said said grittily. ‘But I don’t need to be reminded that I fall far short of the usual image of the radiant bride.’
‘Perhaps,’ he agreed, without a single sign of repentance. ‘But it wasn’t any possible shortcomings of yours I was considering, but the fact that you’re still mourning your father. I think, in the circumstances, we could be forgiven for a small quiet wedding.’
It was all moving too far too fast, and she held up a hand. ‘I—I can’t answer you now. I must have time to think.’
‘As you wish.’ He paused. ‘But without wishing to exert undue pressure, I’d be glad to have an answer by the end of the week at the latest.’ He produced a card from a wallet, and handed it to her. ‘My business and private numbers,’ he said. ‘I’ll be waiting for your call.’
She couldn’t think of anything to say in reply to this, at last managing a feeble ‘Goodbye’ as he walked towards the door.
‘Let’s make it au revoir, shall we?’ She thought she could hear faint amusement in his voice. ‘Because I’ll be back.’
She was still trying to work out whether that was a promise or a threat when she heard the distant thud of the front door closing.
And, suddenly and uncontrollably, she began to tremble.
