Next Door to Romance (10 page)

'Well, you see, my mother's always responsible for this stall,' Lisa explained. 'And these things are as immutable as who does what decorating in the church at Harvest time and Christmas.' She stopped as if she felt that was sufficient explanation, but as it didn't seem to satisfy Mark, she added: 'Actually, for some years past, Mummy hasn't been fit enough to do it herself. So we've all lent a hand.'

'We?' Mark queried.

'Any of the family who happened to be at home. Only this year they're away or—or not able to help for some other reason.'

'So it all gets left to you,' Mark said as if the fact made him angry. He had by now placed the biggest nightmares at the back of the stall and was now precariously balancing a biliously green bowl on the top of two earthenware hot-water bottles and a vase shaped like a dog with a hole in its head for flowers. 'Couldn't that red-headed chap have lent you a hand? He was right on the spot, surely, seeing that he lives in part of your house.'

It didn't surprise Lisa in the least that he had found out where Tom lived. Knowing Addingly she thought it very probable that someone had deliberately volunteered the information—Mrs Blewett, possibly. What annoyed her, though, was the slighting way in which Mark referred to Tom.

'As a matter of fact, Mr Farrier brought me and all this stuff over in his car,' she told him coldly. 'And as I've told you before, his is a very worthwhile job and just about as demanding as a doctor's. Animals, like humans, can't pick and choose when they'll be ill, you know.'

'Sorry,' Mark apologized promptly, but in a preoccupied way. 'Look, Miss Bellairs, I want to ask you something which you may think is impertinent—though I hope not.'

'So do I,' Lisa said distantly, but her heart began to beat with betraying speed.

'About Farrier,' Mark went on doggedly. 'I can't help knowing that you're—well, very quick to fly to his defence at the least criticism. And it makes me wonder—' he paused, but Lisa gave him no help— 'if there's any point in me—oh, hang it! Lisa, you must know what I've got in mind! Am I too late?' He took one of her hands in his. 'Is it—Farrier?'

The soft colour surged to Lisa's cheeks, but she managed to keep her voice steady.

'Tom is a very dear friend,' she said quietly. 'In fact, the best friend I've ever had. But—'

'All right!' Mark said exuberantly. 'Leave it at that! I'll take my chance on that,
but
—'

'Oh, Mark, I've been looking for you everywhere!' interposed a soft and faintly plaintive voice. 'Simon wants you—as quickly as possible!'

'Oh!' Mark seemed to give himself a shake as if to adjust himself from one state of mind to another. 'Where is he, Mrs Cosgrave?'

'In the morning room,' Violet Cosgrave's faded grey eyes regarded him speculatively. 'Did you know that Evadne's going up to town today?'

'She didn't tell me so,' Mark said blandly. 'But after all, why should she if she wants to go?'

'Yes, of course,' Mrs Cosgrave agreed doubtfully. 'But Simon isn't pleased—that's what he wants to see you about—'

'Oh well, I'll go and see if I can sort things out,' Mark said goodhumouredly—a good humour born of the fact that, unlike Mr Cosgrave, he was delighted that Evadne had taken herself off. He wasn't ready for Lisa to encounter her yet. But the thought reminded him of his manners.

'Mrs Cosgrave, have you met Miss Bellairs?' he asked, and when, smilingly, she shook her head, he made the introduction with formal correctness: 'Mrs Cosgrave, Miss Lisa Bellairs. Miss Bellairs, Mrs Cosgrave.'

Mrs Cosgrave held out a soft, rather stubby little hand.

'I'm delighted to meet you, my dear,' she said kindly. 'I've seen you in church, of course, with that little lady who limps and that handsome, white-haired man. Your parents?'

'Yes, my parents,' Lisa replied with an unmistakably affectionate note in her voice.

'Ah, that's the way I like young people to speak of their parents! Nowadays—' She gave a little sigh and changed the subject rapidly. 'Why does your mother limp—an accident?'

'No, arthritis,' Lisa explained. 'In her hip. It's a horrible thing because there doesn't really seem to be any cure—'

'No, I suppose not,' Mrs Cosgrave said sympathetically. 'You know, it makes me feel quite guilty. I suppose I'm about your mother's age, but I haven't got any aches or pains at all! It doesn't seem quite fair, does it? I've been lucky over that—and over other things, of course,' she added hurriedly, in a way which somehow suggested to Lisa that she wasn't too sure about her luck in some directions.

'It's very good of you and Mr Cosgrave to let us have the Fete here,' Lisa said quickly, troubled at the unhappy look in the older woman's eyes. 'I don't know what we'd have done—'

'Oh, we're only too pleased,' Mrs Cosgrave said with evident sincerity. 'Simon really wants to get in with the people round about—I mean, he feels one ought to take an interest in the place where one lives,' she amended with a quick, guilty look at Lisa to see if she had noticed the tactless way she had first put it. 'As for me, I'm enjoying it ever so much. It reminds me of my girlhood.'

'Oh, did you live in the country?' Lisa asked with interest. Somehow she, in common with a lot of other people, had assumed that all the Cosgraves were Londoners.

'Oh yes, my dear. My parents were lodge-keepers on a big estate in Hampshire,' Mrs Cosgrave explained simply. 'And the Fete was always held in the grounds —I never thought the day would come when I'd be the hostess just like Her Ladyship—oh dear!' She sat down abruptly on a convenient packing case, her kindly, ordinary little face wrinkled in distress. 'Please forget I said that, my dear!' she begged. 'You see, Simon doesn't like me to tell people—it's only natural, of course,' she added defensively, 'seeing the way he's got on—'

Lisa, desperately sorry for the friendly little woman who so clearly was rather overburdened with her husband's magnificence, smiled reassuringly.

'You must be very proud of him,' she said tentatively, and if, privately, she wondered if she was going to like Mr Cosgrave, she didn't give Mrs Cosgrave a hint of that.

'Oh, I am, my dear! How could one be anything else?' Mrs Cosgrave replied, and gave a sudden little cry of pleasure. 'That fern pot!' she explained, pointing to the revolting article. 'It's so like the one my mother had it might be the same one! She used to have an aspidistra in it in the window of our front parlour! How it takes me back!' Smiling, one finger pressed against her plump cheek, she regarded the pot with real affection. 'I want that!' she announced firmly. 'Oh, I know it's not everybody's choice, but it reminds me so—put a sold notice on it, will you?'

'Yes, of course,' Lisa promised, secretly determined to warn Mark who the purchaser was in case he made some derogatory remark about it in front of her.

But she had no opportunity of doing that, for at that moment Mark and a grey-haired man whom she assumed was Mr Cosgrave, strolled over in their direction.

Simon Cosgrave was approaching his sixtieth birthday, but despite the colour of his hair, he looked younger than his years. He was perhaps, a little heavily built for a man of medium height, and there was a floridness about his complexion which he might have been wise to take as a warning. The smiling lips were, perhaps, a little thin and the twinkling eyes both small and rather closely placed, but the whole effect was one of almost avuncular good nature and made Lisa wonder if perhaps Mrs Cosgrave had worried unnecessarily about her indiscreet revelations. Mr Cosgrave didn't look the snobbish sort—

'Delighted to have you all here,' he said when the introductions had been made and Lisa had, once again, said how grateful everyone was for the help he and Mrs Cosgrave were giving. 'But there's something wrong here!' His eyes regarded the stall critically. 'Putting a pretty little girl like you in charge of absolute junk! We'll have to see if something can't be done about that!'

'Oh, but—' Lisa began, when Mrs Cosgrave interrupted.

'Now, Simon, you don't really know anything about such matters,' she told him with surprising firmness. 'You'll see, this will be one of the most popular stalls there is because people are always hoping that they'll find something valuable that they'll get for almost nothing! I've bought something already,' she concluded, pointing to the fern bowl. 'My mother had one just like that—and if you don't like it, Simon, and I don't expect you will, then it can go in my sitting room!'

'My dear, if you like it, have it!' Simon said amiably. 'I can't say I admire it, but then—' he shrugged his shoulders tolerantly, 'it would be a dull world if we all thought alike, wouldn't it? And now, Mark, perhaps we'd better do the rounds to see that there's nothing wanted. Be seeing you later, my dear—and Miss Bellairs.'

The two men went off, the eyes of both Mrs Cosgrave and Lisa following them.

'It's wonderful, the way Mark manages to—to smooth Simon down when he's upset,' Mrs Cosgrave said as if she was thinking aloud. 'I don't know what we'd do without him! And I really can't be too thankful that he and Evadne are going to get married—did you say something, dear?'

'Only—that I didn't knew they were engaged,' Lisa said, dry-lipped.

'Well, they aren't exactly,' Mrs Cosgrave explained. 'But they will be, of course. Simon wants them to— and he always gets his own way!'

Lisa didn't reply. It wasn't conclusive evidence, and by now she had come to realize that Mrs Cosgrave was neither a very tactful nor reliable sort of person. All the same, it seemed to her that the warmth of the sun had gone and a chill wind taken its place.

The Fete was to be declared open at three o'clock, but as most local families had at least one member who was actively helping in one way or another, early lunch was the order of the day.

This, of course, included the Bellairs family who, with knowledge born of experience, had cooked a chicken the day before and now, with the minimum amount of work on this busy day, were eating it with a salad which Mrs Bellairs had prepared during Lisa's absence at the Manor. Stewed fruit and cream followed, and when the meal was finished, Lisa asked doubtfully:

'Do you think it will be all right if I leave Tom's covered up on the table? Or shall I put it in the refrigerator?'

'Oh, I forgot to tell you,' Professor Bellairs said with a guilty start. 'Tom rang up to say that there was no need to keep anything for him. Apparently he's bringing a girl over from the Ranstead Kennels—he did say her name, but I didn't catch it—' He looked enquiringly at his wife, confident that, as was so often the case, she would be able to supply the missing information. Nor was he disappointed now.

'Celia Palmer, I expect,' Mrs Bellairs said promptly. 'Mrs Blewett's niece. Yes, Charles?'

'Oh—yes. Well, he's bringing this girl over to the Fete—and they're having lunch together before they come.'

'Yes, he told me he was bringing her over,' Lisa said casually conscious that both her parents were looking curiously at her, wondering how she would take this hitherto unheard-of defaulting on Tom's part, and she was determined that she would make it clear she didn't mind in the least. 'He says she's got an obsession about roundabouts—personally, I've always preferred flying boats.'

'For my part, I'd pay to stay off either,' Professor Bellairs said with a shudder. 'What I've been wondering is, how are we going to get to the Manor? I mean, in previous years it's been within easy walking distance to get to the Medways for Lisa and me, and Tom's always given you a lift, my dear—' He looked anxiously at his wife. 'Shall we try to get the taxi?'

'I doubt if he'll be free,' Mrs Bellairs said a trifle worriedly. 'Really, I don't—'

'It's quite all right,' Lisa interposed. 'Mr Saville is coming over to fetch me and there'll be plenty of room for both of you.'

'My dear, we can't just take it for granted like that—' Mrs Bellairs protested, but Lisa overruled her.

'He asked if he could give you a lift as well, but not knowing Tom had let you down, I said it would be all right. But now I'm sure he won't mind—'

'Lisa dear, one can hardly say Tom has let us down—' Mrs Bellairs protested, but she was talking to the empty air. She sighed anxiously. 'Charles, what did you think of this Mr Saville when he was here that evening?'

'Well, it was a very short visit, you know, but he seemed to be a very pleasant young man,' Professor Bellairs said judicially. 'And, it would appear, a very obliging one. Now, don't worry, my dear. Lisa has a lot of sound common sense—'

'No girl has common sense when it comes to falling in love,' Mrs Bellairs said a trifle didactically. 'It's a contradiction in terms!'

'Oh, my dear, that's not much of a compliment to me or to yourself, is it?' Professor Bellairs suggested with an amused smile.

'I wasn't talking about us—we're different from anyone else,' Mrs Bellairs insisted, and sighed again. 'And I suppose that's what everyone thinks! Oh well, you're quite right, it won't do any good to worry. But how I wish—'

'I know. So do I,' Professor Bellairs agreed, understanding perfectly what was in her mind. 'But now it would appear that Tom—'

'Well, all I hope is that Lisa won't find out when it's too late—mercy, is that the time! I must fly!' And she hobbled gamely out of the room.

It was, everyone agreed, the most successful Fete on all counts that anyone could remember! The sun shone brilliantly all the afternoon, but a pleasant little breeze tempered the heat. By half-past six hardly any of the stalls had more than a handful of articles left to sell-as Mrs Cosgrave had foretold, Lisa's white elephant stall was particularly popular. The side shows had brought in a record sum. The roundabout didn't break down as it often did, and fewer children than usual were sick. Yes, it really was a huge success!

'Certainly we'll be able to take care of the surplices and the kneelers, and still have something over for the heating system,' Mrs Thacker said jubilantly. 'I shall have to ask Hubert to ask for a special vote of thanks to Mr and Mrs Cosgrave for making all this possible—and to that very nice young Mr Saville. He's been invaluable —always available just where he was wanted most.'