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‘Nine o'clock suit you?’
Goodness, on a Sunday too! ‘Any time that suits you,’ she assured him. Her first interview and she had got the job! It was fantastic.
‘Then nine o'clock it is. It's quite a drive, pretty hazardous towards the end. The house is quite remote, very minor roads the last ten miles or so. I usually stay to lunch and leave straight after.’
‘That can't give you much time with Helena.’
‘Enough,’ he grimaced. ‘A little of Helena goes a long way. Sorry,’ he grinned, ‘I mustn't put you off before you start!’
It wasn't putting her off at all. His aversion to spending time with his daughter reminded Regan of her own father's absences during her own childhood, and her sympathies all lay with Helena. Her father had been a busy man too, travelling the world for his work and pleasure, and in the ten years of her life before he was killed she had probably seen him for a year of that time. Aunt Edith and Uncle Fred had brought her up as their own daughter, and although her father had often mocked them for their staidness, they had had no hesitation in adopting her when her father had died.
‘I haven't put you off, have I?’ Clive Western must have noticed the shadows in her eyes.
‘Not at all,’ she answered coolly. ‘I'm looking forward to meeting Helena.’
‘That's fine, then.’ He stood up in conclusion of the interview. ‘I'm sorry to rush you, but I have another appointment at four o'clock.’ He gave her a warm smile.
Regan stood up too, her handbag clutched primly in front of her. She still couldn't believe she had got this job! ‘Are you sure I'll be suitable?’ she asked anxiously. ‘My qualifications——’
‘Already discussed with the agency. I'll let them know you've accepted the job.’
‘I'm sure you're too busy——’
‘They'll want their fee, Miss Thomas,’ he interrupted dryly. ‘Which means I have to contact them anyway.’
‘Oh—oh yes,’ she blushed at her stupidity.
‘Sunday, then?’
‘Yes,’ she confirmed.
She was still smiling when she walked past the man in the reception area, receiving a smile back. She called in and did some shopping before going back to the flat she shared with Lindy. She was in the kitchen when she heard her friend's key in the lock an hour later.
Lindy burst into the room. ‘Did you get it?’ She pulled out the grill plate to reveal the steaks cooking there. ‘You got it,’ she laughed.
‘I did.’ Regan opened the fridge door to reveal a bottle of wine she had also purchased. ‘To celebrate.’
‘Mm!’ Lindy licked her lips. ‘Can we start on that now?’
‘Wait until the steaks are ready.’
Lindy sat down on one of the two bar stools they possessed. ‘What was Mr Western like?’ she asked eagerly.
‘Very good-looking. Very charming too.’
‘Any chance of you and him——’
‘Certainly not,’ Regan instantly denied, although the warmth in Clive Western's eyes had occasionally been a little too warm for comfort. A little encouragement from her, and who knows? Thank heavens he travelled a lot. It wouldn't do to become romantically involved with her employer.
Lindy shrugged. ‘Just curious. What's the little girl like?’
‘She's a young lady,’ Regan corrected firmly. ‘I'm sure you didn't like being called a little girl at sixteen. And I didn't get to meet her, she's at their house in Cornwall. Apparently she lives there most of the time.’
‘Does that mean——’
‘It means,’ Regan checked the steaks once more, turning them over for the last time, ‘I shall be going to Cornwall to live, and that Christopher will be able to move in here on Sunday afternoon.’
Lindy blushed. ‘Don't be like that, Regan! Christopher will be using your bedroom, not sharing mine. We only want to see how we get on living together. It isn't going to be easy to work a marriage around my shift work at the hospital.’
Lindy was training to be a nurse, and her hours were a little strange, including several months of night work each year. She and Christopher McGrath had been dating for over a year now, and while they were just going out together Lindy's work didn't interfere too much, but it could be a different matter when taken in conjunction with the commitment of marriage. And so the young couple had decided to try living together for a while, with separate sleeping arrangements, to see how things worked out between them.
Regan kept an open mind about the idea, not sure she would want to do that herself. But then she had never been put to that sort of test, never caring enough for any of her boy-friends to want any more than a casual friendship with them. But she knew Lindy and Christopher genuinely cared for each other, and perhaps it was better to find any loopholes in the idea of marriage between them before they actually went ahead and did it.
Lindy frowned. ‘Sunday, you said? Is that when you start the job?’
Regan nodded. ‘Mr Western is driving down to see his daughter and offered to take me with him. It will save me having to get a train.’
‘Bit short notice, though, isn't it?’
Regan served their meal, sitting beside her friend at the breakfast bar. The two of them had shared a flat ever since they had met in a youth hostel two years ago, and the arrangement had worked out very well, although after growing up with two male cousins Regan had found it strange to be suddenly living with a girl.
She shrugged now. ‘I've had a couple of weeks break, and it isn't as if I can't start any time. Besides, now I know I have the job I just want to get down to it.’
‘You're taking a risk not actually meeting this girl. She could turn out to be a little horror.’
‘Mr Western more or less told me she is,’ Regan said calmly.
‘Charming!’
‘She just needs attention. She seems to have most things money can buy, but not too much tender loving care.’
‘Which you intend to rectify,’ Lindy teased.
‘I'm going to try. Hey, we forgot the wine!’ Regan looked down ruefully at her already half eaten meal.
‘We'll have it now.’ Lindy got up to uncork it. ‘We have to toast your new job. Here,’ she handed Regan a full glass of the red wine. ‘Although I have to say you're a braver person than I am, I couldn't leave London for goodness knows how long.’
‘You forget, I was brought up in the country. Actually, I think that helped me get the job.’
Lindy touched her glass to Regan's. ‘The new job,’ she toasted.
‘The new job,’ Regan echoed.
‘Does Donny know yet?’
Regan sighed. ‘Not yet. I'm dreading telling him, actually. Although in a way I shall be glad to get away from him. He's got so possessive lately. I'm hoping to get out of this without too much fuss.’
‘Why not just tell him you aren't interested?’
‘I tried that,’ Regan grimaced, carrying her wine through to their sitting room. ‘He just came round the next evening as if I hadn't said anything to him. I didn't have the heart to go through it all again.’
Lindy curled up in a chair. ‘That's probably what he was counting on.’
‘Probably,’ Regan laughingly agreed. ‘But even he wouldn't follow me down to Cornwall.’
‘I wouldn't count on it. He hardly lets you out of his sight.’ The doorbell rang. ‘Now's your chance to find out.’
‘How can you be sure it's him?’ Regan stood up.
‘Simple, Chris isn't coming over until later.’
‘A process of elimination, Watson,’ she laughed.
She let Donny in, still not sure why she could only feel mild attraction towards him. He was good-looking enough, very tall, with the body of one of his own country's Greek gods, his hair deeply black, waving in wild disorder, his eyes a deep brown, surrounded by thick black lashes. Regan knew that for work he wore smartly tailored suits, working for a shipping firm he had to look his best, but out of work he wore skintight denims and tee-shirts. He was a very good-looking individual of twenty-two—and yet he left her cold.
She accepted the kiss he placed on her lips, averting her face as he would have deepened the caress. She wished he would accept her friendship and not keep trying to make it something it could never be.
Lindy had gone to her bedroom by the time they entered the sitting-room, leaving the field clear for Regan to tell Donny of her future change of location, no doubt. As she had already known, he didn't like it, not one little bit.
‘You will hate it there,’ he said angrily. ‘There will be no night life there, no parties, no discos. Just think of the fun we have here.’
‘To tell you the truth, the parties and discos have started to pall a bit. Whatever happened to moonlight walks and days spent by the river?’
His expression showed his disgust. ‘I cannot imagine anything worse!’ he groaned.
‘Not here in London, no. Go for a moonlight walk and you're likely to get mugged, and the pollution of the river is likely to kill you if you get too near. I'm a country girl, Donny, and I'm looking forward to the move.’
‘And what about me?’ he asked moodily. ‘You know what will happen to us if you move away from here.’
‘There is no us, Donny,’ she dismissed softly. ‘And as I told you, I want to go. I lived in London because I had to, now I've finished college I would like to move back out again.’
‘You cannot tell me you will not miss all this,’ he scorned, his accent deepening in his anger. ‘I would go mad if I had to live in some quiet backwater.’
‘That's where we differ. I'm looking forward to it.’
‘You are determined to go?’ he knew that stubborn look of old.
‘Yes.’
‘All right,’ he sighed. ‘But remember this, I tried to stop you. You will remember that?’
Regan laughed. ‘I'll remember. And I'm sure to miss you.’
‘That is what I am hoping.’
‘Oh, I see,’ she nodded. ‘A case of absence making the heart grow fonder.’
‘Oh, Regan,’ his eyes pleaded, ‘I wish you would not go.’ He seemed about to say more and then checked himself. ‘I cannot stop you?’ he said resignedly.
‘No.’
‘Very well. As there are only a couple of days left before you are to leave I intend showing you everything you are going to miss, starting tonight with a party one of the girls is throwing.’
The next two days were a rush. When Regan wasn't out with Donny she was either packing or shopping, a lot of the clothing she had worn at college not being suitable to wear as a companion to an almost sixteen-year-old. Most of her things wouldn't set too good an example of neatness.
And then there was the call to her aunt and uncle, their disappointment immense when they knew she was moving even farther away from them. She was upset about that herself, being very close to them. In fact they had been bringing her up even before her father had died, her mother being Aunt Edith's younger sister. Regan's mother had died when she was seven, although she and her mother had often lived with Aunt Edith and Uncle Fred, since her father was often away.
As soon as her mother had died her aunt and uncle had stepped in to look after her, her father only putting in the occasional appearance. She had loved her father with a love akin to hero-worship, had come to know him as the man who turned up for a day or two bearing gifts and then disappeared again for six months or so. When he had suddenly died, and stopped appearing every now and then to disrupt the even tenor of her young life, she had for a few brief seconds felt a sense of relief. The guilt for that moment had never left her.
Finally Sunday morning came around, bringing bright sunshine with it. Regan donned one of the new sundresses she had acquired, and waited anxiously for Clive Western to arrive. Lindy had only just gone to bed; her night shifts for this year were just starting. Well, at least it would throw her and Christopher, who was moving in later today, in at the deep end. They were to have that test on their relationship straight away. Regan hoped it would work out for them.
Saying goodbye to Donny hadn't been easy, and she hoped he wasn't going to make a nuisance of himself in the near future. Mr Western had seemed nice, but he might not consider Donny a suitable friend for the companion of his daugher.
When the doorbell rang at exactly nine o'clock she knew it was him, and picked up her suitcase before taking one last look around what had been home to her for a long time now.
The drive was long and tiring, although the Mercedes was the ultimate in comfort. The powerful engine ate up the miles, and when the two of them weren't talking there was always the radio to fill in their silences. In actual fact Clive Western seemed to be becoming more and more preoccupied the nearer their destination they got, and with the heat of the day, the relaxing music and the comfort of her surroundings Regan soon fell asleep.
She felt terrible when she woke up; she always did if she fell asleep during the day. She sat up, smoothing back her long hair, wishing now that she had smoothed it back in the style she had had at her interview. She must look a mess.
‘Feeling better?’ Clive Western turned to smile at her.
‘A bit bedraggled,’ she admitted ruefully.
‘I'll be stopping for petrol in a minute, perhaps you would like to freshen up then.’
Ten minutes later she felt grateful for his thoughtfulness, her face newly washed, her make-up renewed and her hair brushed. Ready to face anyone, in fact.
The house certainly was remote, a large grey brick building set high on the cliff top, the only apparent habitation for several miles. There were several outbuildings, a couple of them looking like stables. Regan hoped so, she would love to go riding once again. She hadn't been able to go since her move to London, and it had been a pastime she particularly enjoyed.
Clive Western brought the car to a halt in the driveway at the front of the house, and after getting out Regan went to peer over the edge of the cliff to the sheer drop to the turbulent blue-grey sea below. The water looked icy cold, although in the heat of the day it probably wasn't, crashing against the jagged rocks that were scattered along the shoreline.
‘Brr!’ she shivered, turning away to meet Clive Western's curious stare. ‘It doesn't look very inviting,’ she explained.
‘It's very dangerous,’ he confirmed, taking her suitcase out of the boot of the car. ‘I wouldn't advise that you attempt to swim in it. There's a pool at the back of the house, I should use that.’
‘I think I will, thank you.’ She was perfectly well aware of how treacherous the Cornish coast could be, there were reports of deaths there every year. ‘I saw some stables too—will I be allowed to use one of the horses?’
‘You ride?’ He sounded surprised.
Regan smiled. ‘I'm a country girl, remember?’
‘Of course,’ he smiled back. ‘I can't see why you shouldn't ride one of the horses, they could probably do with the exercise.’
‘Oh, lovely!’ Her eyes glowed deeply blue in her pleasure.
‘Come into the house, Miss Thomas. I'm sure you're as ready for your lunch as I am. Mrs Hall will take you up to your room first,’ he said as the housekeeper came out into the reception area to meet them. ‘I have to go to the office, but no doubt we shall meet again later,’ he told Regan with a regretful smile. ‘Work has to come first, as usual,’ he grimaced.
Mrs Hall was a rotund woman in her fifties, with a friendly welcoming smile on her lips, but her dignity demanding a certain respect. Regan knew that her job as companion could be a friendless one, not fitting in with the household staff and yet not a member of the family either, but Mrs Hall soon showed her there would be no resentment of her in any household she ran.
