Misleading Engagement. Marjorie Lewty
just or the unjust? Anyway, you were immovable. You were in no fit state to drive either. Also, I felt eternally grateful to you for bringing the cassette. So, all things considered, what would you have expected me to do?’
‘You could have rung the police,’ he suggested. ‘Although,’ he added quite seriously, ‘your sofa was much more comfortable than a cell in the police station, I’m sure.’ He was looking hard at her, but still he didn’t smile. ‘May I ask who you are?’
Anne gasped in surprise. ‘I’m Anne Grey, of course. Don’t you remember me from the wedding?’
He shook his head. ‘You look so very different. But I must believe it if you tell me so.’
Nothing about Goldilocks this morning! Anne wanted to giggle.
He turned back to struggle with the lock of the case again. Anne said, ‘Let me help. I’m afraid I had to pull things out last night when I was searching for the cassette.’
She took out the morning coat and refolded it carefully. She put it back and her hand touched his as he held the large case steady while she got the lid shut. She drew in a quick breath as a thrill of electricity passed up her arm. She had often read about this sudden sexual attraction that could pass between two complete strangers, but had never quite believed it could happen. She forced down the lid of the case and held it while he snapped the locks.
‘Thank you,’ he said, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. But she could feel that they were looking steadily at her. She wished he would laugh, or even smile—anything to break the strange awkwardness that had suddenly sprung up between them.
At last he said, ‘Well, I’ll relieve you of my company, and thanks again for your kindness.’ He carried the case into the hall.
Suddenly Anne knew that she didn’t want him to go yet. She wanted to find out more about him. ‘Have you far to drive?’ she asked.
The long mouth drew into a rueful grimace. ‘About three hundred miles.’
‘Oh, dear, then you must let me make you a cup of coffee before you go,’ she said quickly. ‘If you’d like to wash, the cloakroom is just down the passage. Come into the kitchen when you’re ready.’ She didn’t give him time to refuse. She hurried into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. She made two mugs of coffee and popped two pieces of bread into the toaster, laying butter and marmalade on the table with plates and knives.
A few minutes later Mark Rayne joined her. ‘I feel more human now,’ he said. He had evidently put his head under the tap; his black hair was wet and gleaming. He ran a hand over his chin. ‘I would have had a shave, in your honour, but I couldn’t face the hassle of getting the case opened and closed again, so please forgive me if I look like a pirate.’ He took the chair which Anne indicated.
She put a mug of coffee before him and said, ‘Don’t let that worry you. I broke my glasses last night so I can’t see you properly.’ She wished she could see his expression, but without her glasses his face was blurred.
At last he said, ‘That’s what it is. You were wearing glasses yesterday—and your hair was different, surely?’
She shook out her mop of gold curls. ‘I always wear it tied back when I’m working, and I always wear dark clothes so that I can fade into the background.’
‘I see,’ he said. ‘I was conscious of a small grey ghost flitting about the church.’ She could almost imagine he was smiling. But his tone was serious again as he said, ‘It’s really very kind of you to feed me like this, especially when I put you to such trouble last night.’ He spread marmalade on a piece of toast. ‘Will you give my apologies to your fiancé when you tell him? I wish I could see him myself to explain.’
Anne looked down at the ring on her left hand, and for a moment she wondered whether to tell this man that her engagement had been ended months ago, but she couldn’t do that without telling him why the ring was still on her finger. So she said lightly, ‘Oh, Keith would understand; he’s abroad at present.’
Mark Rayne was looking hard at her with a slight frown. ‘I keep wondering why you’re living alone in this big house. Surely it’s too large for one small girl? Or is that a tactless remark?’ he added hastily.
She felt herself flush very slightly. She supposed it might be taken for granted, in this day and age, that she and her fiancé should be living together. She didn’t quite know why she should be so eager to dispel that idea from his mind. ‘It’s my family home. I live quite alone here. My mother died soon after I was born and my father died only last month,’ she said quietly. She had to turn her face away quickly to hide the tears that sprang into her eyes; she hadn’t yet got over Daddy’s death. ‘Of course it’s too big for me. I shall have to try my luck in the house market soon, I suppose.’
He nodded. ‘Yes, perhaps you should do that,’ he said gravely. He finished his coffee and the last piece of toast and stood up. ‘Well, mind you don’t let in any more wandering good-for-nothings to disturb you.’
‘I would let anyone in if they brought me back something valuable that I’d lost,’ she said, quite seriously.
She walked to the front door with him. ‘Thank you for everything, Anne,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re a lovely, kind girl, and they don’t come like that very frequently these days. If ever I can do you a good turn to repay you just ask me.’ To her amazement he leaned forward and kissed her cheek gently before he picked up his case and carried it out to the car. He tossed the case on the back seat, got in behind the wheel and lifted his hand. She waved as the car disappeared round the corner of the road.
It was like waving to a friend whom she would see again soon. It seemed strange that he was driving three hundred miles away and that they wouldn’t meet again. “‘Ships that pass in the night”,’ she quoted aloud. She couldn’t remember the rest of that rather sad poem.
Her eyes were thoughtful as she went in and closed the door. She wouldn’t ever solve the enigma that was Mark Rayne.
Anne worked all day and into the night before she was satisfied with the editing of the wedding tapes, and before she went to bed she did something unusual—she made a copy of the finished video to keep for herself and put it away carefully in her bedroom drawer so that it wouldn’t get mixed up with any of the other cassettes in the editing suite. She thought that some time she would watch it to see if she could find any trace of a smile on Mark Rayne’s handsome face.
She knew that it was silly, but the man had caught her imagination and she found herself wondering about him. She put the cutting from the local paper with the tape, wondering what kind of books he wrote. She was a great reader but she’d never seen his name on any books in the library. She’d enquire some time. But of course he probably used a pen-name... Oh, stop brooding about the man, she told herself. He’s nothing to you.
On Monday morning Anne went into the town and took her glasses to the opticians to be mended. While she was there she made arrangements to have a test for fitting contact lenses, keeping her fingers crossed that she would be getting a cheque when she delivered the video.
In the afternoon she drove to the Brent mansion and delivered the video to Lady Brent, who invited her into an elegant drawing room and gave her tea as the video was played back on an enormous TV screen. Lady Brent was a handsome, grey-haired woman, friendly and with no nonsense about her, who seemed delighted to chat to Anne.
‘You’ve made a wonderful job of it, my dear,’ she said enthusiastically at the end. ‘I’m sure Elizabeth and Andrew will be delighted with it when they come back from their honeymoon. It will be one of their treasured wedding mementoes—so much more exciting than just a photograph. And Mark would like to have a copy too, to send to his parents. They’re retired now, and live in Malta.
‘Mark Rayne was Andrew’s best man, you know. They were at school together. He’s a very well-known writer—you may have heard of him;