Shadowed Stranger. Carole Mortimer
remained silent. ‘What have you to say for yourselves?’
‘Sorry?’ Billy said hopefully.
He received an impatient look for his trouble. ‘I gather that distorted hunk of metal on the driveway belongs to one of you?’
‘My sister,’ Billy muttered, obviously realising this man was a force to be reckoned with.
Robyn’s violet eyes flashed. ‘It was a bicycle before you drove over it,’ she snapped her indignation.
Glacial grey eyes were turned on her. ‘I’m well aware of what it was. What I want to know is what it was doing on my driveway.’
She gasped. ‘Your driveway?’
‘That’s right.’ He pushed the untidy dark hair back from his forehead as if it annoyed him.
‘You live here?’ Billy’s eyes were as wide as saucers.
The man’s mouth twisted. ‘I do. Your names?’ he rasped.
‘William,’ Billy supplied, obviously disconcerted by this man owning Orchard House, seeing his days of playing football here fast disappearing. ‘Er—Billy, actually—sir.’
‘And you?’ Piercing grey eyes were now turned on Robyn.
‘Robyn,’ she supplied abruptly. After all, she had only come in here to help Billy. Although there were the condemning daffodils in her hand!
‘Robyn …?’ he prompted.
‘Castle,’ she muttered, feeling like a juvenile caught out in a misdemeanour, and not the eighteen-year-old she really was.
‘You too?’ he eyed Billy.
‘Yes,’ he muttered.
The man nodded. ‘You have two minutes to get off my land,’ he told them grimly. ‘And take the bicycle with you.’
Robyn grimaced. ‘I doubt it’s worth the trouble.’
The man took out his wallet, taking out some notes. ‘It’s only the back wheel,’ he held out the money towards her. ‘This should replace it.’
She looked at him suspiciously. ‘You’re offering to pay for the damage?’
‘As long as you’re both gone in the allotted two minutes. And make sure any of your hooligan friends know not to come trespassing here again.’
‘Hooligans …?’ Robyn gasped.
‘What else would you call yourselves?’ he mocked, looking down at their identical clothing of denims and tight tee-shirts, although Robyn’s were slightly more disreputable than Billy’s.
She always dressed casually on Sundays, her job in the library calling for smartness at all times. ‘You are in the eyes of the public,’ Mr Leaven had told her on the one occasion she had dared to wear trousers. She had never dared again.
But Sundays were her own, and if she wanted to wear her old denims and one of Billy’s tee-shirts then surely that was up to her. The fact that both items were now a little the worse for wear was still nothing to do with this arrogant man.
‘You only have a minute left to take the money and run,’ the man drawled. ‘I would advise you to do just that.’
‘I—–’
‘Yes, sir,’ Billy interrupted her, taking the offered money. ‘Thank you, sir. Come on, Robyn. Robyn!’ he said pointedly when she looked like continuing the argument.
She shook off his hand, reluctantly following him to the driveway, unaware of the fact that the man had followed them until he opened his car door in preparation of continuing on his way to the house.
‘And make sure you remember what I said,’ his voice was harsh. ‘I don’t want you or any of your friends here again.’ He swung into the car, slamming the door after him before driving off.
‘He needn’t worry, we won’t be back,’ Robyn exploded. ‘Rude man!’ she added with disgust.
Billy burst out laughing at her indignant expression. ‘He had a right to be annoyed.’
She looked down disgustedly at her bike. ‘Just look at this! It means I’ll have to get the bus to work tomorrow now,’ she groaned; the bus service to this sleepy little village was not very reliable at the best of times. The bus company seemed to take buses out of service without informing the people waiting for them. Before she had taken to riding her bicycle the three miles each way to Ampthull she had been late for work many times simply because they had decided not to run the bus she usually caught on that particular day.
Billy helped her pull the bicycle up on its one straight wheel and one bent one. ‘Maybe he’ll give you a lift in his Jag,’ he teased.
She grimaced, putting the daffodils in the front basket. After all, he hadn’t asked for them back! ‘Is that what it is?’ The type of car the man had been driving hadn’t been of particular interest to her, what he had done with it had been.
‘Mm,’ her brother smiled appreciatively. ‘Fantastic, wasn’t it?’
Robyn looked down pointedly at her bicycle. ‘I didn’t notice. I’d better get this home and see if Dad thinks it can be salvaged.’
‘I’ll help you,’ Billy offered instantly, lifting the damaged wheel off the ground while Robyn took control of the handlebars. ‘Here’s your money,’ he handed it to her.
She took it and put it in her back pocket, not even bothering to count it. ‘Why are you being so nice?’ she asked suspiciously.
He gave her a look of feigned innocence, looking quite cherubic with his baby blond curls and fresh-scrubbed look. ‘I’m always nice to you,’ he grinned.
‘Like hell you are—–’
‘I’ll tell Mum you’ve been swearing,’ he announced triumphantly, a look of satisfaction to his face.
‘Oh, I see!’ She had to smile, humour got the better of her. ‘You don’t want me to tell Mum and Dad about the game of football, right?’
‘Right,’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘You won’t, will you? Dad said he would stop my pocket-money for a month if I did it again.’
She raised her eyebrows questioningly. ‘Then why did you?’
Billy sighed his impatience with her. ‘Are you going to tell them or aren’t you?’
She sighed. ‘Of course I’m not.’
He immediately dropped the damaged end of her bicycle. ‘See you later,’ he grinned before running off.
‘I didn’t promise,’ she called after him.
He turned round and poked his tongue out at her. ‘I know you,’ he scorned. ‘You won’t let me down.’
Little devil! The trouble was he knew she wouldn’t let him down. She seemed to have spent the majority of her eighteen years getting Billy out of one scrape or another—and covering up for him. The five years’ difference in their ages had made her protective towards him, over-protective on occasion, forging a bond between them that meant she would always stand by him, no matter what he did.
It took her twice as long as it should have done to get home, mainly because of Billy’s defection, and it was with some relief that she leant her bicycle up against the garden shed before going into the house.
‘I’ll have a look at it later,’ her father assured her when she explained that it was damaged. ‘Did you happen to see Billy while you were out?’
She hastily looked away. ‘I think I might have done, I’m not too sure.’
Her father gave her a reproving look, not fooled by her evasion for one moment. ‘He’ll be home for lunch, I presume,’