Dreams to Sell (26 page)

‘I'm still thinking of those cornices,' Mr Elphick answered. ‘Maybe we should see Mr Carmichael?'

‘I'll find him for you,' Roz said quietly. ‘Let's go back to the hall.'

Her heart weighing like a stone in her chest, she gave the Elphicks seats and made her way out of the house to the terrace overlooking parkland at the rear. The sun that had done so much damage was still radiant in the sky, and as she approached she could see three figures sitting back enjoying it, one being Laurence, another a dark-haired man, and the third a blonde young woman wearing a white shirt and shorts. She had excellent legs.

‘Roz, there you are!' cried Laurence, rising with the dark-haired man. ‘Come and meet Paul Ferris, my accountant, and Miss Leys – Meriel.'

Meriel? At the name which she recognized instantly, Roz wondered why she'd thought her heart felt heavy just a few moments ago? It must have been as light as a feather, compared with the way it was feeling now.

‘Meriel, Paul – may I introduce Miss Rainey from the property department at Tarrel and Thom's?' Laurence was saying easily. ‘Tarrel's are handling the sale of the house – and working very hard, I may say.'

The dark-haired man, who was thin and lithe, with a beaky nose and sharp, dark eyes, inclined his head, smiling, while Miss Leys drawled a greeting without rising from her chair.

‘Do excuse my dress, Miss Rainey.' She laughed a little. ‘I thought I was going to play tennis, but have you seen the tennis court? Laurence really should let his handyman just dig it up and plant vegetables or something.'

Her short blonde hair was well-styled, her eyes blue-green and rather narrow in shape with long, dark lashes, and her teeth so dazzling white they told all Roz needed to know about her background. No one without money and a good diet had teeth like that. She couldn't be blamed for that, of course, but Roz rather guiltily knew that she would never want to be generous towards Miss Meriel Leys.

‘My tennis court is the least of my problems,' Laurence said, taking up a pitcher of lemonade. ‘Miss Rainey, may I offer you a drink?'

‘No, thanks, Mr Carmichael, I just came to tell you that Mr and Mrs Elphick are ready to go. You might like to have a word?'

‘Oh, of course.' He set down his pitcher, glancing quickly at Paul Ferris. ‘Any luck with them, do you think? Did they like the house?'

Roz hesitated. ‘To begin with, they were keen, but I'm afraid they rather think there's too much to do.'

‘Blast! What changed their minds, then?'

‘Not much doubt of that,' Paul said shortly. ‘Laurence, I did advise you to improve the top floor and get a surveyor in to give you the full picture on subsidence.'

‘That sort of thing costs money I haven't got. You know I tried a loan and the bank turned me down.'

‘Well, something's going to have to be done. You don't need me to tell you that you can't keep going as you are, and that's a fact.'

‘I've managed so far.'

‘But not for much longer.'

‘Look, I'd rather not discuss it now,' Laurence said curtly. ‘This isn't the time or the place.'

‘I know, I'm sorry. It's just so difficult to pin you down, Laurence. How often have I asked you to come into the office?'

‘I'd better see these people,' Laurence muttered. ‘Will you excuse me, Meriel?'

‘Of course.' She stood up, smiling at Roz. ‘Goodbye, Miss Rainey. Nice to have met you.'

‘And you.'

As they returned to the hall, Roz shot a questioning look at Laurence. ‘How come Miss Leys is here? I thought you and she had parted.'

‘Oh, we have. It's just that she saw an advert for Bellfields in one of the glossies and decided to look me up to ask about the sale. For some reason, she thought we could still play tennis.'

‘I see.'

‘No need to worry about it.'

‘Why should I worry?'

‘I'm saying you needn't.'

She could say no more as the Elphicks were in sight and Laurence was advancing to shake their hands, courteous as ever, thanking them for coming as though they were his guests.

‘We did like your house, Mr Carmichael,' Mrs Elphick said earnestly, ‘but I'm afraid it would need too much spent on it for our purpose.'

‘Far too much,' put in Mr Elphick. ‘It might have been made clearer in the brochure what the position is. No point in trying to cover up what has to be done.'

‘I'm sorry you feel we didn't give you a true picture,' Roz said quickly. ‘It wasn't our intention to deceive.'

‘Oh, yes, you just rely on that old saying, “let buyers beware” and all that, eh?' Mr Elphick gave a snorting laugh. ‘We all know what estate agents are like.'

‘I really don't think there is any point in insulting Miss Rainey,' Laurence said coldly. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Elphick, Mrs Elphick.'

‘Kenneth didn't mean to be rude,' Mrs Elphick said hurriedly. ‘I'm sure Miss Rainey has been very kind – it's just that we're so disappointed.'

‘I'll drive you back.' Roz took out her car keys. ‘Goodbye, Mr Carmichael. We'll be in touch.'

‘Of course, Miss Rainey.'

His gaze on her was tender but she said no more as she shepherded the Elphicks out to the car, uncaring that the atmosphere on the drive back would be distinctly chilly, glad only that it would also be silent. She wanted to think her own thoughts.

It was October. No sign of any change in the Korean War, and no hope of seeing Dougal yet. No hope, either, of a buyer for Bellfields, which no longer seemed to cheer Laurence's spirits. Perhaps he had at last realized that to save his house he must in fact let it go but, with no buyer on the horizon, was depressed that even that option might be lost to him.

Certainly, he seemed depressed about something, preoccupied, anyway, though he refused to admit it when Roz tackled him, and sometimes his mood reminded her of Jamie's before the fateful day when Ella Drever had blown away his pretences. She never let herself go too far down that road, but at the back of her mind there was anxiety. Could this change in Laurence be anything to do with Meriel Leys?

She'd never asked him about her after that one meeting she'd had with her, believing it best not to mention her name, which could come between herself and Laurence and maybe even cause trouble. But then, one evening when they were going home after a theatre outing, she found herself suddenly, out of the blue, asking if he'd seen Meriel again. She hadn't meant to do it and once she'd spoken the words, regretted them, especially as Laurence, driving the car, seemed to stiffen.

‘Why do you ask?' he demanded.

‘I was just wondering, that's all.'

‘The answer is no, I haven't seen her.'

That should have been the end of it, but at her little sigh of relief, he cleared his throat and spoke again. ‘As a matter of fact, though, she has telephoned me.'

‘Telephoned?'

‘Once or twice.'

‘Why should she do that? If it's all over between you?'

‘Oh, she keeps wanting me to do things. Go riding, for instance. She'd supply the horse.'

‘You're going to do that?'

‘No. I don't want to ride anyone else's horses.'

‘So, what else does she want you to do?'

‘Buy raffle tickets for some charity or other.' Laurence laughed. ‘That's a joke, eh? I could do with somebody running a raffle for me.'

‘Oh, Laurence—'

‘I said it was a joke, Roz.'

‘I just wish you didn't have to worry so much about money.'

‘I'm like most of the population there.'

‘But not Miss Leys?'

He glanced at her quickly, then turned back to the road. ‘You're right, not Meriel. Her father's in shipping.'

Roz stared. ‘Oh, no, not Leys and Son, of Glasgow?'

‘The same.'

She was silent then, still not speaking, even when Laurence drew up a little way from her home and turned to look at her.

‘Now what's going through your beautiful head?' he asked lightly.

‘I'm only wondering what it would be like to have that sort of money.'

‘Let's not waste time brooding on it. We shall never know.'

You might, she thought, but did not put the thought into words. She could, after all, be wrong even to think it, and as he drew her into his arms and began to kiss her, that was what she hoped.

Nothing more was said of Meriel Leys in the days that followed, and Roz, allowing herself to relax, took pleasure in going to her art class again, where on a November evening she and Norma were copying landscapes, while Tim nearby was absorbed in something of his own creation.

‘Nothing like painting to concentrate the mind,' Roz remarked to Norma. ‘Makes you forget all your troubles, eh? For a while, anyway.'

‘Wouldn't say that!' Tim called across. ‘Doesn't make me forget that Churchill won the election, when it should've been Attlee!'

‘Oh, don't get on to politics!' cried Norma, carefully outlining a cloud and frowning. ‘I'm more interested in why this cloud doesn't look like the one in the picture I'm copying.'

‘Because you're not Constable!' Tim said with a laugh.

‘If I was Constable, I wouldn't be coming to this class!' Norma answered spiritedly.

‘You'd be very welcome all the same,' said Mrs Burr, joining them and smiling. ‘Actually, your cloud's not too bad at all, Norma. Just lighten it up a little with your brush – there, that's better! Everything all right with you, Roz?'

‘Yes, thanks, Mrs Burr. I was just saying how painting takes your mind off your troubles. Don't you agree?'

‘Indeed, I do, except that you often end up with a different sort of trouble.' Mrs Burr laughed. ‘How to get your clouds right!'

As she moved on, Norma glanced at Roz ‘You haven't any troubles, have you, Roz? I mean, apart from your Dougal being in Korea?'

‘No, no, I'm OK,' Roz answered quickly.

‘Still seeing Mr Carmichael? What a shame you never sold his house for him, eh?'

‘There's still hope of that. Someone'll want it someday. And I'm still seeing him.'

‘That's good.' Norma looked at Tim, who was covering his canvas with large black shapes. ‘And I'm still seeing Tim,' she added in a whisper before raising her voice to call, ‘What's that then, Tim?'

‘Can't you tell?' he asked with a grin. ‘“Election Night”!'

‘More like “Black-Out”!' Norma declared, at which Roz laughed and thought again how much she was cheered by her painting class. Whatever happened, she'd still have that. But what should happen, then?

What happened, in fact, was something good, for when she returned home that evening it was to find Chrissie and Bob sitting with her mother round the kitchen table, on top of which was a bottle of wine and five glasses. As soon as she came in, all three leaped to their feet, their eyes shining, and Chrissie cried, ‘Oh, Roz, we've been waiting for you! We have some news!'

‘Grand news!' added Flo, her voice trembling.

‘Wonderful news,' said Bob, already opening the bottle.

‘Is it …?' Roz began. ‘Are you …'

‘Yes, yes, we are!' Chrissie was running to hug her. ‘Roz, we're engaged!'

‘Oh, that is such good news!' Roz cried, kissing her sister's cheek. ‘Oh, I couldn't be happier. Bob, congratulations!'

‘Got that right,' said Bob. ‘I'm the one to congratulate. Mind if I join in this kissing?'

After kissing Roz, he embraced the tearful Flo, while Chrissie showed off her pretty diamond ring to Roz's admiration and called out as a knock came on the inner door, ‘Come on in, Evan! We're waiting for you!'

‘I was wondering who the fifth glass belonged to,' said Roz as Bob's tall older brother joined them, with a hand outstretched to Flo and smiles all round. There had to be more kissing, with Evan making up for lost time and kissing everyone, beginning with Chrissie and ending with Roz, while Bob poured the wine and Chrissie handed out crisps and everyone sat enjoying rare, cloudless happiness.

Not altogether cloudless, perhaps, for after sipping her wine, Flo set down her glass.

‘If only Dougal could have been here,' she sighed, and everyone sighed with her, but only for a moment, till Roz said, ‘He is here! He's here in spirit. And he couldn't be more pleased!' And the moment passed.

Looking at Chrissie, seeing her happiness and remembering her misery over Richard Vincent, Roz felt she couldn't have been happier herself. Somehow, it seemed a good omen for them all that Chrissie should have come through her bad time to find a love that was true and promised so much hope for the future. Perhaps some of that will rub off on me, thought Roz as the evening finally drew to an end, with the MacGarry boys making their way home up the stairs, leaving the Raineys to go to bed and lie awake, reliving their joy.

But for Roz the joy was to be short-lived, for it was only the following Saturday, when they'd met for the afternoon, that Laurence said he had something to say to her. And she had a terrible feeling she knew what it was.

In the car, after he'd collected her from home, he suggested they should go to Bellfields where they could spend time in private, then return to Edinburgh for a meal.

‘Private, so that you can talk to me?' asked Roz, studying his profile. She'd thought when they'd met that he was not looking well – rather haggard, in fact, with dark shadows beneath his eyes. Perhaps he had not been sleeping? Clearly he had something on his mind.

He nodded, staring into the mist, the famous Edinburgh haar that had so far refused to lift, making the day chill and damp with drops of moisture hanging on the trees like tears.

‘Miserable day,' Roz remarked after a silence.