'No. But I damn well seduced you, didn't I?' Joss paused, and Lucy glared at him, jumping to her feet, but he stayed her with a peremptory hand. 'No. Sit down again for a moment, please, Lucy. While we're on this particular emotive subject I'd like to know the truth about one thing. Do you deny that, young though you were, you wanted me in the same way?'
Lucy stared at him in silence. By no means in the same way, she thought. You lusted after me, but I was fathoms deep in love with you. My idol. Too bad you fell off your pedestal with such a crash.
'No, I don't deny it,' she said out loud. 'I had a real schoolgirl crush on you, Joss. Subsequent events cured it rather effectively, I'm afraid.'
His mouth curved in a mirthless smile. 'A fact you made crystal-clear at the time. I grew tired of beating a path to your door eventually, since it remained so firmly shut in my face.'
Lucy eyed him curiously. 'Surely you didn't expect anything else?'
The smile grew self-derisive. 'Shall we say I hoped? There was something I wanted very badly to say to you, but you wouldn't even let your father ask me in the house.' He shrugged. 'I received, as they say, my just deserts, one way and another. No matter; it was all a long time ago.'
'Very true. So let's forget it, shall we?' Lucy stood up. 'I'd better be off. If it's convenient for you to take me now,' she added stiffly.
Joss half rose automatically, then sat down again. 'Certainly. But I'd rather like to finish my coffee first.'
Lucy's chin rose. 'Of course. I'll just go upstairs and make sure I've left nothing behind.' She knew perfectly well she had not, but for the moment she badly needed an excuse to remove herself from Joss's vicinity. When she returned, he was waiting for her.
'Ready?' he asked, and waved a hand towards the window. 'Snowing again, I'm afraid.'
Lucy forgot the constraint between them and rushed to look out. 'Oh, lord! Perhaps I should go by the lodge; see what else has happened.'
'Unnecessary. I've had a word with Ted and he's sending someone along to deal with the plumbing and electricity, plus a mechanic from the garage to tow the car away. I'd advise you to get a claim form from your insurance people, Lucy.'
The words hit Lucy like a bodyblow. She murmured something unintelligible as they drove off down the long, fence-lined drive to the road, and said nothing else at all on the journey to Abbotsbridge. She let Joss lift her down from the Land Rover when they arrived, oblivious of the interested glances directed at them by several passers-by, and unlocked the door of the attractive, double-fronted antiques shop, which boasted bottle glass in its bow windows and a wrought-iron sign that creaked in the cold east wind.
'I'd better come in and check on your pipes here, too,' said Joss, and Lucy went white.
'Oh, my God, I never even gave it a thought ' She flew through the shop and into the private quarters at the back, taking the stairs two at a time to the rooms above. When she found everything as usual she felt limp with relief.
'Everything all right?' called Joss from the foot of the stairs, and Lucy ran down again quickly.
'Yes, thank heavens.' She thrust a hand through her hair. 'If there'd been water dripping all over my precious stock I'd have had hysterics.'
Joss held out a bundle of letters. 'Your mail, Lucy. I'll take myself off now I know all's well.'
'Joss ' Lucy hesitated, feeling awkward. 'I do appreciate your help. Thank you for putting me up last night.' Her eyes met his, her cheeks growing warm as she saw the amusement in his eyes.
'You just hate being obliged to me for anything, don't you, Lucy Drummond?' He touched her cheek lightly. 'Don't work too hard. Ciao.'
'Ciao,' she echoed, and watched his tall figure thread its way through desks and chests and tables laden with objects of varying value. Lucy turned away with a sigh to her tiny little office, and put the kettle on for coffee to drink while she tackled the mail. There were the usual leaflets and circulars, plus the electricity bill for the shop and the bill for the rent. Her eyes goggled as she saw the figure on the statement. If Miss Drummond wished to renew the agreement the new figure would be a fifty per cent increase on the rent paid over the past few years.
Lucy sat down abruptly at her desk. She had known an increase was in the offing, but not a sum of such magnitude. She could manage it once she had the money from the sale of Holly Lodge, but since there were no takers at the moment, nor likely to be until the ravages of yesterday had been repaired, she had no idea where the money was coming from. She already had a loan for stock from the bank, so there was no help
from that quarter. Tom's fees were secure, admittedly, but boys grew out of clothes and needed all sorts of extras at school on top of them. And this was the dead season in the trade. No one was likely to come in this morning thirsting for a Victorian credenza, or a set of William the Fourth dining chairs.
What, Lucy wondered in desperation, was she to do? The only things of value were among her stock, but if she sold the stock at auction her livelihood was gone. Listlessly she gathered dusters and polish and set about her usual Monday cleaning, while her brain went round in circles, trying to devise some way out of her dilemma. Each window of the shop was furnished as nearly as possible as a room, with more attention paid to a pleasing effect to catch the customer's eye than strict adherence to value or period.
Lucy dusted the George the Third bookshelves, smoothed the nap on a velvet chaise-longue, and retied the heavy silk cords holding back a swathe of damask curtain. She lingered lovingly over the inlay on a round French rosewood table, pulling out its satin-lined compartments for maximum effect, then gave a tweak to the horsehair mane of a rocking-horse with a saucy look in its eye.
'I'm glad you look cheerful, Pegasus,' she told him, and went on to dust the innumerable pieces of porcelain and glass dotted about, finishing her routine by polishing the glass cabinet displaying her collection of Victorian card-cases. The only customers during the morning were an elderly lady wanting a pretty china soap dish, and a smart young woman after a china jardiniere for her conservatory. But even two sales were more than expected, Lucy consoled herself, as she eyed the grey day outside.
The snow had stopped, but it was still very cold, and few people were about. Lucy closed the shop at lunch time, went along to the bakery for a cheese roll, and ate it at her desk while she went through her books and juggled with figures until her head ached, but no magic solution presented itself. There was no escaping the fact that she needed a loan from somewhere, and needed it fast.
Lucy was still deep in calculations when the telephone interrupted her.
'Lucy?' Joss's voice in her ear was unexpected. 'Are you busy?'
If only she were! 'No, Joss. What is it?'
'The electricity's back on at the lodge, but the plumbing's unlikely to be sorted out today, I'm afraid.'
Lucy felt guilty. She'd actually forgotten about the mess at the lodge in her preoccupation with figures. 'You really shouldn't have troubled, Joss; I do apologise.'
'Don't be silly.' He sounded brusque. 'Your car's been collected, and Stan Porter at the garage will ring you tomorrow with the verdict. He wasn't very optimistic, I should warn you.'
Lucy wasn't surprised. 'No, Joss, I don't suppose he was, but thanks for letting me know.'
'What time do you close?'
'Fiveish.'
'Right. I'll pick you up then.'
Lucy frowned at the receiver. 'Really, you needn't bother. I can walk.'
'Don't talk rot. I'll see you at five.' And Joss put an end to her protests by hanging up.
Lucy was nettled by his high-handed manner, but glad just the same that a long walk home in the dark didn't face her at the end of the day. Suddenly she sat bolt upright, struck by an electrifying idea, then shook her head violently. No. Out of the question. Jonas Woodbridge was no doubt in a position to lend her money—no one better in Abbotsbridge—but to ask him for a loan was going against every principle she possessed. But would principles buy Tom the new shoes he needed, or pay the repair bills at the lodge and cough up the money for the rent on the shop?
It would only be a temporary loan, said a wheedling voice in her brain. Just until she sold the lodge. She would make it clear she expected to pay the usual interest, of course. Joss Woodbridge wouldn't miss a few hundred pounds—Lucy frowned. More like a couple of thousand, really, if she paid all the bills as well.
No! Lucy jumped to her feet, shoving away her ledgers. She could never bring herself to ask. The words would stick in her throat. At one time she had sworn never to speak to him again, so what on earth was she doing even contemplating asking him for a loan?
Lucy made a few sales during the afternoon, to her surprise. Nothing very momentous; one of the card-cases, some of the special wax polish she made herself, a nice little watercolour.' More than she could have expected on a cold, snowy Monday, but nothing like enough to allay her terrible anxiety. By the time Joss appeared promptly at five, Lucy was heartily glad to set the burglar alarm and lock up the shop.
'Good day?' Joss asked, as he helped her into the Land Rover.
'Like the curate's egg: good in parts.' Lucy sighed deeply as they moved off.
'You sound depressed,' Joss commented.
'Sorry.'
'And my news won't cheer you up, I'm afraid.'
Lucy braced herself. 'What now?'
'Most of the pipes need renewing at Holly Lodge before you can expect the house to pass a surveyor's examination, which any purchaser would expect.' Joss glanced down at her. 'Your insurance should cover most of it, of course '
'I let it lapse,' blurted Lucy.
'You did what?'
'I couldn't manage it, Joss. The insurance on the shop was more pressing. I was going to try to pay it next month, but—but ' She paused, trying to steady her voice. 'I just can't claim on the insurance. I'll have to find the money for the plumbing myself.'
Joss swore softly as they left the lights of the town behind. 'Lucy, the house isn't habitable. Some of the pipes have sheered clear away, and the plumber advises re-routing the entire system to the first floor instead of leaving them up in the loft where they could ice up again.'
'Oh, my God!' Lucy sat stunned. 'But won't that mean new floorboards and masses of redecorating, and ' She trailed into silence as they drew up at the gates of Holly Lodge, staring malevolently at the For Sale sign, which seemed to taunt her as Joss lifted her down.
Inside the house there was now light. And Lucy could have wished there was not. Candlelight had veiled the full horror of the damage the evening before. Now it was revealed in all its depressing detail: the stained ceiling and walls in the hall, the ruined carpet, and the whole atmosphere was prevalent with damp. Upstairs the debris of the fallen ceiling had been cleared away, and Lucy took one look at the gaping places overhead and sat down abruptly on the top stair.
'Not a pretty sight, it is?' She tried to smile at Joss.
'Not to put too fine a point on it, Lucy, it's bloody awful. Get your things together.' He started back downstairs, and Lucy sprang to her feet to run
after him.
'What do you mean?' she demanded.
'You're coming home with me,' he said flatly. 'Go and pack.'
'I can't do that! I'm not walking out of here and leaving everything in this state. This is my home!' She threw out her hands in appeal.
Joss's face took on the type of expression parents wear to deal with fractious offspring. 'You can't live here until the place is dry again, Lucy. Be sensible.'
Lucy knew he was right, but resentment at his tone made her obstinate. 'Very well, but I don't have to impose on you. I can stay with Perdy.' She brushed past him and went into the kitchen to dial Perdy's number, but after a couple of rings a male voice answered.
'Is—is Perdita there?' asked Lucy, taken aback.
'Sure. Who shall I say wants her?' asked the cheerful voice.
'Lucy Drummond.'
In seconds Perdy's voice was gurgling down the line, full of suppressed excitement in a way Lucy recognised with a sinking heart.
'Lucy, love? How's things?' Without waiting for an answer, Perdy rushed on like a stream in full spate. 'Just got back. Divine weekend in this fabulous little inn tucked away in the back of beyond in the Cotswolds and—guess what?— Paul's come back with me! He's—er—going to stay for a while. Don't worry,' she added hastily, 'I'll be in to help at the shop as usual. You'll spare me for an hour or two, darling, won't you?' she said in muffled voice to someone at the other end. There was a smothered giggle, then Perdy said breathlessly, 'Everything OK with you, Lucy? Tom get back all right?'
'Yes,' said Lucy brightly. 'Tom's fine.'
'Anything in particular you wanted?'
'No, no—just thought I'd check you were back for tomorrow afternoon.'
'Sure thing, darling. See you.'
Lucy put the telephone down and turned to face Joss. He leaned in the doorway, looking large and formidable.
'I didn't hear you beg a bed for the night, Lucy.'
No. It was only going to be a temporary bunk on a sofa anyway, but Perdy has a friend staying with her.' Lucy smiled philosophically. 'It doesn't matter. Now the electricity's back, there's no reason why I can't stay here.'
'Other than catching pneumonia!' Joss shivered. 'God, the damp's getting to my bones just standing here. For pity's sake, pack a bag and come home with me, Lucy, before we both get a chill.'
'You can go. I'm staying.' Lucy's face took on a mulish look as she folded her arms in defiance.
'They haven't turned the water on, Lucy, so you can't cook much, or make tea, or have a bath. And,' he added, folding his arms in imitation, 'I don't propose to stir a step until you decide to come with me.'
'Why all the sudden concern?' she demanded angrily. 'For years you haven't even acknowledged my existence '
'Your choice, not mine. I kept track of you all right, Lucy. Besides, until recently I always knew your father was there to look after you.'
'I don't need anyone to look after me!'
'No?' His eyes held her deliberately and Lucy flushed.
'This—this present state of affairs is only temporary. Normally I'm perfectly self-sufficient. If it hadn't been for the weather, none of this would have happened. One can't foresee acts of God!'
Joss moved towards her. 'True. But one can accept help when it's offered. Even when it comes from a man you persist in casting as villain of the piece.'
'With reason.' Lucy eyed him challengingly.
Joss shrugged. 'I'm not denying I behaved badly towards you on that one occasion, but there were extenuating circumstances. And I very quickly tried to make amends. After ten long years, Lucy, can't you find it in your heart to be gracious enough to accept a little help from me? Particularly when it's obvious you need it so badly.'