Shadowed Stranger. Carole Mortimer
The other girl frowned. ‘Don’t you want to talk about him?’
She concentrated on her work with an intensity she was far from feeling. ‘Not particularly,’ she replied in a bored voice.
‘Keeping him to yourself, are you?’ Selma teased, not at all offended by Robyn’s attitude.
‘Something like that,’ she nodded, wishing this conversation over.
‘When are you seeing him again?’
‘I—er—Tonight, probably,’ she invented, wishing she had never started this.
‘Going anywhere nice?’ Selma wanted to know.
‘I’m not sure. Probably just to his house.’ Robyn wished she could move away, put an end to these lies, and yet she knew that this job usually took most of the morning to complete. If Selma was going to ask her questions about Richard Howarth all that time …! She was going to run out of conversation about him any moment now!
Selma’s eyes widened. ‘You’ve met his parents?’
She shook her head. ‘He has his own house.’
‘He does?’ That took the other girl aback.
‘Yes.’ She moved on to the I section, getting nearer and nearer Mr Leaven’s desk, and she hoped nearer to ending this discussion.
Selma looked wistful. ‘I’ve never been out with a boy who had his own house. I usually have to wait until his parents go out.’
Wait for what? Robyn almost asked. Selma was a pretty girl, black hair kept long past her shoulders, deep brown eyes, a clear complexion, a nice slim figure, and yet she had earnt herself rather a bad reputation with the boys in the area. Most of them were willing to go out with her for a while, but they all ended up marrying someone else. It was a shame really, because she was a very nice girl given the chance to be.
‘He must be quite rich to own his own house,’ she remarked now.
‘I have no idea.’ Robyn moved up to the J section, luckily almost in view of Mr Leaven.
‘Or does he just rent it?’ He had obviously stepped down in Selma’s estimation if he did.
‘I—–’
‘Would you two girls kindly get on with your work—quietly.’ Mr Leaven suddenly appeared behind them. ‘It may have escaped your notice,’ he continued in an angry whisper, ‘but this is supposed to be a library, a place where people can come to quietly read and study. Your voices—–’
‘Ssh!’ A woman at a nearby table looked up to glare at him. ‘Can’t you read?’ she hissed, pointing to the sigh that read ‘QUIET, PLEASE, PEOPLE WORKING’.
‘Get on with your work!’ Mr Leaven snapped at Robyn and Selma before returning to his desk.
‘Oh dear,’ Selma giggled. ‘That’s put him in a bad mood for the rest of the day!’
Indeed it had, and Robyn kept out of his way as much as possible. She kept out of Selma’s way too, not being anxious to reopen the subject of Rick Howarth. She felt slightly ashamed of herself for using him in that way, even if he didn’t know about it. She had thought it would get Selma off the subject of her having a boy-friend, and instead she seemed to have made matters worse. She hoped she would have forgotten all about it by tomorrow.
The bus service was dreadful again that night, and the shop was already closed and her mother in the kitchen when she entered the house. ‘The bus,’ came her moody explanation for her lateness.
Her mother nodded. ‘I thought you might be late, so I made a casserole for dinner.’
‘Lovely!’ Robyn ran upstairs to change into her denims and tee-shirt, the rumblings of her stomach making it a hurried change. She was always ravenously hungry in the evenings, and so was Billy. Her brother didn’t utter a word as he ate his portion of the chicken casserole.
‘I mended your bike today, Robyn,’ her father told her, eating his meal at a more leisurely pace.
‘You did?’ Her eyes lit up with gratitude, as she thought of not having to catch the bus again tomorrow.
‘Mm. I took one of the wheels off your mother’s old bike. She never rides it anyway.’
‘So you didn’t need to buy a new wheel?’ she frowned.
‘No,’ he shook his head.
‘That means you’ll have to give the money back,’ Billy emerged from eating his dessert long enough to utter.
‘Money?’ their mother repeated sharply. ‘What money is this, Robyn?’
She refused dessert, although she knew the apple pie would be delicious—her mother’s cooking always was. ‘Mr Howarth gave me some money yesterday when he drove over my bicycle. I’d forgotten all about it.’ She reached into the back pocket of her denims, taking out the notes she had stuffed there yesterday.
‘Wow!’ Billy breathed slowly, looking at the two crumpled ten-pound notes Robyn held in her hand.
‘Wow, indeed.’ Their father looked disapprovingly over the top of his glasses. ‘You had no right accepting money from Mr Howarth, not when you openly admitted it was your fault for leaving your bike on the road.’
Robyn was still dazed herself by the amount of money Rick Howarth had given her. Her bike was only an old one, more or less ready for the scrap-merchant who came round every couple of months—the whole thing wasn’t worth twenty pounds! ‘I’ll give it back,’ she said hurriedly.
‘You most certainly will,’ her father said firmly. ‘And as for you, young man,’ he turned towards Billy, ‘how did you know Mr Howarth gave Robyn some money?’
‘I—er—I—–’
‘I told him,’ Robyn instantly defended. ‘Last night.’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Billy agreed eagerly. ‘Last night when we were playing Monopoly.’
‘Mm,’ their father looked sceptical. ‘Well, you can return that money as soon as possible,’ he told Robyn.
‘Tonight,’ her mother put in firmly, standing up. ‘I have an extra casserole and an apple pie to go over to Mr Howarth. I was going to get Billy to take it over, but you might as well take it, Robyn, as you’re going anyway.’
Robyn stood up to help clear the table. ‘Do I have to, Mum? I don’t mind taking the money back, but do I have to take the food too? Besides, it’s my night to do the washing-up.’
‘Billy can do it. Oh yes, you can,’ his mother insisted as he went to protest. ‘Your father has had a hard day.’
‘But I was going to football practice,’ Billy moaned.
‘This will only take you five minutes, you can go to your football practice afterwards.’
‘But—–’
‘Billy!’
‘Yes, Dad.’ He dutifully went into the kitchen, knowing when their father used that tone that he would brook no argument.
Robyn knew that there was no point in her arguing either. She was going to have to take that casserole and pie over to Orchard House whether she wanted to or not. And she didn’t want to. Spending a couple of minutes giving Rick Howarth back his money was one thing, delivering a food parcel was another. If only she hadn’t told her mother that she didn’t think he was eating! She had put herself in this predicament by a few thoughtless words. And what Rick Howarth would make of her bringing him food she wouldn’t like to guess!
‘I don’t know why you’re so miserable,’ Billy muttered as he wiped up. ‘At least you got out of this!’ He pulled a face.
‘Shame!’