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She wondered what to tell her father and stepmother at breakfast the next morning. But was grateful that her father had an experiment going on in one of the workshops belonging to his property, and appeared to have forgotten the need for breakfast. Taryn thought she might take him a tray later. Her stepmother left it until after nine to descend the stairs.
‘You still here?’ she exclaimed, when they bumped into each other in the hall. Taryn was saved a reply when just then the telephone in the hall rang for attention and her stepmother reached for it. ‘Hello?’ she enquired. ‘Brian!’ she exclaimed, and, archly, ‘Didn’t that naughty stepdaughter of mine ring you?’ Taryn made frantic signs that she still did not want to speak to him, and saw Eva hesitate before she declared, ‘I’m sorry, Taryn’s not around at the moment. Can I take a message for you?’
Apparently she could not. But the moment she put the phone down she wanted to know, chapter and verse, why he was ringing her stepdaughter at home when said stepdaughter was supposed to be in his offices.
‘There was…I’ve resigned,’ Taryn stated.
‘A pity you didn’t tell him that!’
‘I’ll drop him a note.’
‘You’ve walked out!’ It sounded like an accusation.
‘I—um—wasn’t sure I wanted to be a PA any more,’ Taryn replied, feeling her colour rise at the blatant lie. Although, since she was not sure what she wanted to do any longer, perhaps it was not so very blatant.
She watched as her stepmother’s need to know every last minute detail rose to a peak. Then all at once it fell away as Eva Webster fitted in her stepdaughter’s lack of employment with a vacancy she had of her own. She seized the opportunity with both hands. ‘Well, isn’t that splendid? You can have Mrs Jennings’ old job!’
‘I’m—er—not sure I want to be housekeeper to you and Dad,’ Taryn tried to protest.
Overruled. ‘You’re surely not thinking of sitting at home idle all day?’ questioned that lady who had made sitting idle an artform.
Since Taryn did not want to spend the next week avoiding answering the phone—if that was how long it took for Brian to get the message that she was not going to go back, and assuming that was what his phone call had been about—Taryn that day typed out her formal resignation. She sighted unforeseen circumstances as her excuse to put on file for her departure being immediate.
By return she received a handwritten note from him, apologising profusely for overstepping the line between employer and PA, and stating that he had no excuse to offer other than the fact that he saw her in a more friendly light than someone who just happened to work for him. That, however, did not make his behaviour any the less inexcusable. But, while he could promise that nothing of the sort would ever happen again, if he had to he would accept that she would not be coming back. If at any time she had a change of heart, there would always be a job for her at Mellor Engineering.
Taryn had a hard time holding back tears as she read his letter. She felt she had never loved him more than just then. But she could not return. It hurt her not to see him. It hurt not to be a part of that busy environment. Being her stepmother’s housekeeper just did not compare.
Taryn had been cooking and cleaning and generally putting up with her stepmother’s daily demands for going on two weeks when she began to feel that they would be falling out ‘big-time’ if she had to put up with much more of it.
She was still missing going to work at Mellor Engineering every day—it was taking a little longer than the twenty-four hours her aunt had forecast it would take for it all to seem much better. But Taryn did admit to feeling more on an even keel as she searched through the ‘Situations Vacant’ column for something that might trigger a spark of interest.
‘What dainty sandwiches are you preparing for this afternoon?’ Eva Webster demanded on entering the room.
‘Sandwiches?’
‘My bridge party?’
It was the first Taryn had heard that her stepmother was entertaining her bridge chums.
‘I thought salmon and cucumber, with a few little cakes afterwards,’ Taryn replied off the top of her head—anything for a quiet life.
‘White and brown bread?’ Eva Webster demanded sharply.
‘Naturally,’ Taryn answered, realising she would have to go to the shops. Woe betide her if the bread wasn’t fresh.
Her stepmother looked over Taryn’s shoulder and was soon ready with her next demand. ‘Why are you reading the “Situations Vacant” column?’
Taryn smiled. ‘I’m looking for a job.’ Eva Webster’s lips compressed; she did not like it, but by no chance was Taryn going to allow her to believe she was going to act as housekeeper permanently.
‘You obviously haven’t got enough to do here,’ Eva snapped, referring to the fact that Taryn, who had vacuumed and polished the morning away, was now sitting reading the paper.
Taryn switched from ‘Situations Vacant’ to ‘Accommodation To Let” when she had gone. Perhaps this time she would not tell her stepmother her plans until, cases packed, she was on her way out of the door.
Taryn was returning from the shops when, feeling more than a little down she played with the notion of paying a visit to her mother. Her mother and new husband did voluntary work in Africa. Would she be welcome, or would she be in the way? Her mother’s letters were always warm and loving, but…
She had come to no decision when, her stepmother’s bridge party in full swing, the telephone rang. Taryn answered it in the kitchen, and with a warm feeling heard her aunt’s voice.
‘What are you doing?’ Hilary asked.
‘In between looking in the “Situations Vacant” and “Accommodation To Let” columns, you mean?’
‘As bad as that?’
‘Not really,’ Taryn answered. Her aunt loved her, she did not want her to worry about her. ‘It’s just me—I don’t think I’m suited to this housekeeping lark.’
There was a slight pause, then, ‘That’s a pity,’ her aunt was saying.
‘It is?’ Taryn queried.
And was soon informed, ‘I’ve had a request to find a temporary housekeeper for two weeks. They want someone a little bit special—I thought of you.’
‘Oh, Auntie—I’m flattered. Isn’t that nice?’
‘But you don’t want it?’ Hilary asked, going quickly on before she could reply, ‘It would solve both your job and accommodation hunt for two weeks,’ she reminded her. ‘And you could still look out for a new job, and at the same time it would give you two weeks’ breathing space from the dreaded Eva.’
Taryn had to smile. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she murmured. But she had to admit that the prospect of another two weeks at her stepmother’s beck and call had less appeal than that of taking on a similar job for someone else. There couldn’t be two like Eva, could there? ‘Who’s it for?’ she asked. ‘And where?’
‘It’s for a lovely old gentleman living in the Herefordshire-Wales borders,’ Hilary replied.
‘You’re sure he’s a lovely old gentleman?’
‘Positive. Would I send you anywhere not nice? His present housekeeper, Mrs Ellington, has just been on the phone to me—it appears she was recommended to us by a friend of a friend, isn’t that super? Anyhow, she has worked for Mr Osgood Compton for the last ten years and describes him as “a dear man”, an octogenarian, and a true gentleman, apparently.’
Taryn had to own that she was warming to the idea. ‘His housekeeper—Mrs Ellington—she’s going on holiday?’
‘She has a daughter who is unwell. She wants to go and spend a week or so with her, to gauge for herself if everything is being done that should be. It may be that you’ll not need to stay the whole two weeks there,’ Hilary said, and coaxed, ‘In the circumstance of being so well-recommended, I should like to pull out all the stops.’
‘Can I think about it?’
‘He needs someone straight away.’
Thinking on the spot, it did not take much thinking about. Taryn had arranged to see some of her friends on Friday. They were mainly people she had met at college, with some added and others falling away. But she could easily cancel her side of the arrangement. And, to her mind, just two days away from her stepmother, let alone two weeks, would be a bonus. Taryn did not need to think any longer.
‘You’d better give me his address,’ she accepted.
‘Wonderful!’ Hilary exclaimed. ‘When will you go?’
‘Tomorrow,’ Taryn answered before she should change her mind—but didn’t look forward to telling her stepmother.
Taryn made her way down to the village of Knights Bromley the following morning. As she had anticipated, her stepmother was far from thrilled at the idea of having to do her own housekeeping. But, her word given to her aunt, no amount of pressure would make Taryn go back on her promise.
Mrs Ellington was there at the big old house to meet her when she arrived, and stayed long enough to go through the many notes she had thought to make, and to introduce Taryn to her temporary employer.
And Osgood Compton was, as Mrs Ellington had told her aunt, a true gentleman. Within hours of Mrs Ellington leaving, Taryn was feeling more and more at home.
By the time half a week had gone by she was feeling as relaxed and as if she had known him all her life. At the end of that week she felt it had been the most tranquil week she could ever remember. Osgood Compton was a sprightly gentleman, for all his eighty-two years, and with a lively mind to match.
Her duties for her new and temporary employer did not stop at housekeeping, however. Osgood Compton, albeit with the company of a walking stick, liked to walk. His walking stick was not his only companion on his mile-long expeditions either. And, as one week turned into two, Taryn would often look up from what she was involved with and find him standing in the doorway.
‘Any chance of you dropping what you’re doing?’
And Taryn had no problem at all in dropping what she was doing. So they walked and, since he liked to talk too, they chatted about all sorts of subjects. He had been an engineer of some note before his retirement, and seemed delighted that she knew the names and actions of the various engineering implements he mentioned.
In a very short space of time Taryn began to feel quite an affection for him, and knew she would look back on her time with him with pleasure when her two weeks were up.
But, as matters turned out, Mrs Ellington’s daughter was diagnosed as requiring immediate surgery, and she rang Mr Compton to ask if he would mind if she had another four weeks off. He, of course, being the gentleman he was, told her to take as long as she needed.
‘Dare I ask you to put up with me for another month?’ he asked Taryn.
‘I love it here,’ she told him simply. ‘Another month will be fine.’
‘It will just be for one month, I promise,’ he replied, and, with a beaming smile, ‘Perhaps you’d better ring the agency and let them know?’ he suggested.
Later that night Taryn heard him making his own phone call to his daughter, who was married to an American and lived in the States. He and his daughter were in fact in frequent telephone contact with each other, and Taryn felt it was a very loving relationship.
For a brief sad moment she wished that her father might show her a little more affection than he did. But that was not his way, and she soon brightened when, as she passed the open drawing room door, she heard Mr Compton telling his daughter of his good fortune in exchanging one gem of a housekeeper for an absolutely diamond one.
While Taryn felt that that was quite something of an over-the-top exaggeration, it nevertheless made her feel good to hear him say what he had.
Taryn later rang her home, and heard the joyous news that her stepmother had found a new housekeeper. From that Taryn guessed that there was no need for her to hurry back.
The weather over the following weeks was more often than not glorious, and, her temporary employer decreeing that it would be criminal to spend their days indoors, he urged Taryn to make picnics. She needed little urging—any chores that didn’t get done during the day she could catch up on during the evening.
And so the days passed, which would see her scurrying around in the mornings and then taking leisurely strolls to some picnic spot. Occasionally they stopped to quench their thirst at the village pub and, on one most memorable time, even indulged in a game of darts. All in all, they spent some very pleasurable summer days.
As the end of her six weeks in Knights Bromley came to a close, Taryn was still of the view that she would not be going back to Mellor Engineering. But she now felt more ready to take on work in an office environment. She had needed this break, she realised. Had needed this time away in order to get herself back together again.
She must now think of making a career for herself. She was ready for it. She determined that the first thing she would do on Monday morning would be to get down in earnest to finding that career job. The second, having had a respite from her cold and at times alien home, would be to find herself somewhere else to live.
Her determination to do either had to be put on hold for a while, she discovered, when the very next day Mrs Ellington rang to say that her daughter, although doing well, had taken a step backwards in her recovery and she was reluctant to leave her. ‘Do you think you could stay on for another week or two?’ she asked. ‘I know Mr Compton thinks the world of you.’
What could she say? Taryn thought the world of him too. And Mrs Ellington’s daughter had been having a terrible time of it. ‘Don’t worry about a thing,’ she replied. ‘You’ve spoken to Mr Compton?’
‘He still insists I take as long as I need. But I think he’s feeling a bit awkward about asking you to stay on. Apparently he gave you his word that you would leave at the end of this week.’
‘I’ll go and tell him now that it would suit me better to stay on,’ Taryn assured her, and a much relieved permanent housekeeper—who was, after all, a mother first and foremost—went back to looking after her daughter.
‘You’re sure?’ Osgood Compton asked when she told him, his lovely beaming smile surfacing for all he tried to hold it down.
On Saturday, well aware by then that her employer liked to have a nap at some time during the afternoon, Taryn wondered if he might like to sit outside and have his tea. She had made his favourite cake only that morning.
She was in the act of taking a tray of china out to the garden table when the sound of a car coming up the drive drew her attention. So far as she knew Mr Compton was not expecting visitors. That was not to say, however, that his visitors would not be welcome.
Though as she watched the long sleek, this year’s model car halt outside the main entrance door, Taryn left what she was doing and hurried outside to it, her protective instincts to the fore. There was only one visitor, she saw, but if this person had accidentally called at the wrong address then she did not want him or her disturbing Mr Compton’s nap by ringing the doorbell.
She arrived at the driver’s door just as a tall, dark-haired man, somewhere in his mid-thirties, was getting out. He saw her and stiffened—absolutely thunderstruck.
Taryn stared at him. ‘Who…?’ she began, seeing no reason at all why this man should be staring at her every bit as if he knew her from somewhere.
‘What the blazes are you doing here?’ he demanded, to her utter astonishment.
His attitude had rattled her. ‘Do I know you?’ she snapped hostilely. But straight on the heels of that came a spark of recognition. He was dressed in shirt and trousers now, which was perhaps why it had taken a minute or two to sink in. But she had seen him before, and that time, about two months ago now, he had been immaculately suited and had been carrying an expensive-looking briefcase.
She did know him. Shock washed over her. If she was not very much mistaken he was the man who had been in the lift that day she had reeled out of Brian Mellor’s office! This man was, in fact, the man she had that day been rude to!
He had demanded to know what the blazes she was doing there. But what on earth was he doing here? Taryn thought it was time she found out!
CHAPTER TWO
WHERE it had taken up to a minute for Taryn to recognise the man, and to recall where she had seen him before, he, it seemed, with barely a glance to her face, blonde hair and trim figure, had at once recognised her. Even though she too had been business-clad at that time.
With his, ‘What the blazes are you doing here?’ still ringing in the air, she felt at a distinct disadvantage. It was more than time she asked him the same question. ‘We aren’t expecting visitors,’ she told him pointedly.
‘Aren’t we?’ he rapped, clearly not liking the fact that she had taken upon herself the role of the occupant’s Rottweiler. And, not deigning to wait for her reply, he, without more ado, strode past her, making for the door she had just come from.
Taryn chased after him. ‘Who are you?’ she challenged his back.
She thought he was going to ignore her, but he halted and turned about. ‘Do I take it that you’re the incomparable Taryn the phone lines between here and New York are full of?’
Her eyes widened in amazement. ‘You know—?’ She broke off. Osgood Compton’s daughter lived in New York. ‘You have the advantage,’ she said, getting her breath back.
‘Jake Nash,’ he supplied. ‘You’re my great uncle’s temporary, looking-to-be-permanent housekeeper?’ he questioned toughly.
‘I intend to leave as soon as Mrs Ellington is able to come and take over,’ Taryn replied crisply. And as this Jake Nash, somehow happening to be the antagonistic great-nephew of a true gentleman, again made for the door, ‘Mr Compton will be having a nap,’ she stated quickly, adding reluctantly, ‘If you’d like to come with me to the kitchen I’ll make you a cup of tea.’
He seemed to hesitate, as if about to demand who did she think she was, to be giving orders to a member of her employer’s family. But he stood back after a moment to allow her to go in first. ‘That might be a good idea,’ he conceded.
He seemed to know his way to the kitchen, but no sooner were they there than she was realising why he had thought it might be a good idea. For in no time, ignoring her suggestion that he take a seat at the kitchen table while she set the kettle to boil, Jake Nash, standing and leaning his tall length against one of the kitchen units, was in there straight away, with one question after another.
‘You are my uncle’s housekeeper?’ was the first of many.
‘Temporary—and ready to go as soon as his permanent housekeeper’s daughter is well enough to be left, and her mother returns,’ Taryn answered.
‘That’s a definite?’
‘What does it have to do with you?’ she asked snappily, starting to feel more than a touch niggled at his sauce, and giving up all pretence of making this man a pot of tea. ‘You’re not my employer,’ she stated, when she could see from the raised eyebrows that he was a man who just wasn’t used to being answered back.
‘It seems you’ve been making yourself more than useful in the short time you’ve been here?’ he said curtly.
