Misleading Engagement. Marjorie Lewty
bother with it. Keep the ring—it isn’t worth much.’ And that had hurt almost as much as his constant grumbling that it wasn’t any fun for him, being engaged to a girl who spent all her time running round after a demanding invalid.
‘You’re too soft-hearted,’ Keith had told her. ‘You can’t say no, that’s your trouble. You need to toughen up, Anne. People take advantage of you.’
‘But Daddy’s ill. He needs me,’ she had said unhappily.
‘Well, I’m afraid I don’t.’ He had probably decided that it suited him best to be brutal. ‘I’ve had enough. I’m off tomorrow on a trip abroad. You won’t be hearing from me again.’
The wound was still raw, when she allowed herself to think of it. She had loved Keith and had thought he loved her, and if Daddy had not been a darling she might have felt bitter about men.
But now Daddy had gone too, leaving her quite alone, and she had had to put grieving aside and concentrate on how she was going to manage. She simply must make a success of the video business. She’d hate to have to go back to office work again. But she really must have Keith’s ring removed, she vowed as she pulled on black tights and low-heeled sandals.
Anne finished dressing and, having reassured herself that nobody would mistake her for one of the wedding guests, she went back to the editing suite for her holdall. Taking a last look round the tidy little room, her eyes softened. She always remembered how Daddy had fitted up this room for her and bought all the equipment. That had been a short time before he had retired from his position as music master at the local primary school. She had already taken a course in computing and word processing but had been keen on trying her luck at video work, and Daddy had thought it was a good idea.
‘You can’t have too much training,’ he had told her. ‘I want to be sure that you can keep yourself in comfort when I’m no longer here to look after you.’ His eyes had softened in a way she could never forget as he’d added, ‘You shouldn’t have chosen middle-aged parents, you know.’ And she’d known he had been thinking of her mother, who had died only a week or two after she was born.
‘But I’ve got Keith,’ she had said. She and Keith had got engaged at about that time.
Daddy had stuck to his opinion. ‘You never know what may happen,’ he’d said, and how right he had been! It had only been weeks later that he’d had a stroke and she had given up her first secretarial job to look after him. He had died a month ago.
Suddenly the neatly stacked shelves in the editing suite blurred before her eyes and she got out a handkerchief and blew her nose hard. She mustn’t let herself dwell on the past. She had a job to do. She locked the front door and went to get her small car out of the parking space at the back of the house.
Offleigh was a very small village with a very large church, which looked its best on a sunny morning like this.
Anne turned into the lane beside the church and backed her car carefully into the parking space allotted to her yesterday by the vicar when she had explained to him that she needed to leave immediately after the end of the service, so that she would be at the reception in time to catch the guests arriving and being greeted by the bride and groom and their parents.
She had found the vicar delightfully helpful. He had taken her. on a tour of the church and told her a little of its history. It dated from Norman times, although it had been extensively added to later. He had helped her to decide where she could set up her camera to get the best view during the service and had told her how to get to the vestry where the signing of the register would take place. He had also assured her that she would have no difficulty in following the service, that it was to be traditional even down to the organ music. Anne had been truly grateful to him for being so interesting and so helpful, and wished that all vicars could be as nice as this one.
Getting out of her car now, she stood and gazed with pleasure at the old church. It looked very beautiful on this June morning, the sunlight, shining between the branches of a tall chestnut tree, making dappled patches of silver on the ancient stones. The shape of the square tower stood out bravely against the flat blue sky as it must have done for centuries past, although Anne could see quite clearly the places where the stone had been patched over and over again—as the vicar had pointed out to her yesterday. Small birds—swallows? House-martins? —wheeled round the tower, diving to a place beneath the eaves where they evidently had a nest. She stood watching them, enjoying the quietness and peace of the morning.
Suddenly the peace was broken as a large green car turned the comer of the lane, swished round and backed into the parking space next to her own. The powerful engine throbbed for a moment and then was silent. A car door opened and slammed again. Anne lugged her heavy holdall out of the back seat of her car and put it down on the grass verge while she felt inside the door to press the lock.
A man’s voice from just behind her said curtly, ‘How long do you propose to stay here?’
A church official, perhaps? But why did he have to speak so peremptorily? She turned to confront him. He was obviously not a church official. He must be a guest. He was wearing formal attire—morning suit of striped trousers and a long coat, slightly shaped to the waist—and there was a pink carnation in his buttonhole. He was very tall and very dark, and he wore a hard, angry expression.
She played for time while she thought how to deal with him without making any unpleasantness. ‘Er—what did you say?’
He clicked his tongue impatiently. ‘I asked how long you proposed to stay here,’ he repeated.
Then she realised suddenly who he was—he was the best man. Mark something. She recognised him from the photograph, in which he had been smiling down adoringly at the gorgeous model. His face was hard and unsmiling now. Anne reminded herself that the best man was responsible for getting the guests into their cars after the ceremony, so perhaps that could excuse his abrupt approach. He might even be feeling nervous about his role in the wedding.
She looked up at him and said mildly, ‘I propose to stay until the end of the ceremony. Why do you ask?’
She saw the angry light in his dark eyes. ‘Well, you can’t leave that thing here,’ he said, with a contemptuous gesture towards her white Metro which, although lovingly polished and regularly serviced, was beginning to show its age.
She began to feel very annoyed. ‘I certainly have no intention of moving. it,’ she said coldly.
He passed a glance over her, standing very straight in her off-the-peg grey suit, and took a deep breath. ‘Now, look here, my girl,’ he said, and his tone was more insulting than impatient, ‘if you’ve come early to get a good spot to gawp at a wedding it doesn’t concern me, but you must certainly remove your car to another place—much further away.’
Anne locked the door of the Metro very slowly and deliberately. She turned back to him. ‘And what will you do if I refuse? Send for the police with lifting gear? I doubt if you’ll find any in this village.’ The dark blue eyes that could so easily sparkle with laughter were as cold as ice.
He made a furious noise in his throat. ‘This is ridiculous. I shall see the vicar and have your car removed.’
‘You do that,’ she said. ‘Tell him Miss Anne Grey has parked her car in a place you don’t approve of. I’m sure he’ll help you. He is most courteous,’ she added pointedly.
She picked up her holdall and stalked away from him towards the church gates. She held her head high, but as she hurried up the side-aisle she was annoyed to find that her knees were shaking and she glanced over her shoulder in case he was behind her.
As she reached the place between the pillar of the chancel arch and the back row of the choir stalls and put down her holdall, she told herself that she mustn’t let that abominable man get under her skin. She should be proud of herself. He had been extremely rude and she had stood up to him ... but there had been something in that hard dark face which had sent a tremor of fear to the pit of her stomach.
She