Sue for Mercy - Veronica Heley Page 0,39

picked up his paper, sat down, and held it as a barrier between us. David tested the phone, and found it in working order. He gave me a thumbs-up sign, and made for the door.

“I’ll just let the telephone engineer out,” I said to Julian’s paper. He rustled it, but didn’t reply. I wanted to ask David if his hair was really that bright ginger, but didn’t dare. He mounted an old bicycle and wobbled off down the drive. Bianca didn’t get back for another hour, but I was happy to see that she’d brought my knitting. With luck, I might be able to finish the back of Charles’ sweater that day.

*

I stole down the drive at six the next morning. It was still dark and sticky underfoot from rain which had fallen in the night. I clutched a Thermos of hot coffee and a packet of bacon sandwiches, and amused myself with romantic dreams of the way in which Charles would propose to me. I ought to have known better.

He’d parked under some trees near the road. He was huddled down in the driving seat, fast asleep, his driving glasses slightly askew on his nose and his hair ruffled. He woke as I relieved him of his glasses and the flask.

“A fine thing!” I scolded. “How many more times am I going to come across you at the side of the road, dead to the world?”

“You’re all right?” He smiled at me with some difficulty. I was shocked at his appearance, for he looked quite gaunt. He folded me in his arms, Thermos and all, and hid his face in my hair. His fingers quartered my face, to make sure everything was still in its right place.

“You’re not to go back. I’ll take you to Green Gables, and Mother will look after you.”

“Nonsense. Have a sandwich and some coffee and you’ll feel better. You know perfectly well that I’ve got to go back, or they’ll get suspicious.”

He engulfed one sandwich and reached for another, showing signs of revival.

“Cupboard love!” I accused him.

He nodded. He hadn’t shaved, and was wearing a dinner jacket under his overcoat. It didn’t look to me as if he’d been to bed at all.

“Now what I wanted to ask you,” he said, obviously finding it difficult to concentrate, “is whether you want to move into Green Gables today, just for the time being. Mother says it would be best; she wants us both under her eye. I’m not in favour of it myself, but I promised I’d ask you.”

I might have known I wasn’t going to get a proper proposal of marriage.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea,” I said, trying to get it across that his mother and I were not likely to live together in harmony.

“Neither do I. Then that’s settled. I’ll tell Mrs. Green — that’s J.B.’s housekeeper, and she can stock up the larder for you. My flat at Whitestones is more than big enough for two. Now wait a minute! There was something... oh yes! The cooker is electric, and yours was gas, wasn’t it? But you can cope with it for a couple of days, can’t you — till I can get you fixed up with a gas cooker?”

He appeared to think that that disposed of all our problems. I opened my mouth to protest. I didn’t know where to begin. I hadn’t met J.B. yet, but I didn’t like what I’d heard about him, and I was sure I didn’t want to live in his pocket. Then again, I was damned if I was going to start married life in a furnished flat in someone else’s house! By the time I’d sorted out a mild objection, Charles had fallen asleep against me, a half-eaten sandwich clutched in his hand. I guessed he was running a temperature, for his forehead burned against my cheek. David had said Charles was looking fine-drawn, but I thought that was an understatement; to my mind, he looked ill. I cradled him in my arms and let him sleep. It was early yet, and there would be time enough to sort out plans for the future after lunch. I had intended to ask Charles a lot of questions, but I decided those must wait, too. I knocked my knee against his car radio, and silently cursed it. I wondered at Charles for having kept a gift from the Brenners, after what they’d done to him. A surprising choice for a gift, too.

He