The Stranger Came (27 page)

Irritated,
this
time
she
pushed
the
packet
back
across the
table
to
him.
He
looked
at
it,
chewing
his
lip.
'What do
you
make
of
the
Stewart
woman
then?'

'May,'
she
reminded
him
with
a
touch
of
malice.

'Her.
She's
not
easy
to
be
jolly
with.’

The
phrase
made
her
laugh.
'She's
all
right.
She
regards
the
Trust
as
“Good
Works.”
That's
why
she
does
it –
I'm
sure
she
could
get
more
money
somewhere
else.’
Realising
that
might
be
tactless,
she
hurried
on.
'She
may
not
be
very
lively,
but
she
does
her
job
well.’

'You
think
so?'

She
looked
at
him
in
surprise.
'Don't
you?'

He
poured
potato
sticks
into
his
palm.
'Sure
you
don't
want
a
taste
of
one
of
these?'

'Positive
.’

'You
have
a
lot
of
will-power,'
he
said
thoughtfully.

'Because
I
won't
have
a
potato
stick?'

'Right
.’
He
chewed
with
a
crunching
sound.
A
fleck
of
dry
crumbs
showed
at
one
corner
of
his
mouth.

'They're
just
not
the
kind
of
thing
I
enjoy.’

'You're
stubborn,'
he
said.
'It
doesn't
embarrass
you
to
be
stubborn.’

'If
you
think
it's
important.’
On
impulse,
she
picked
one
of
the
sticks
from
his
palm
and
ate
it.
'I'm
not
on
a
diet
or
anything.’

'Now
I'm
not
sure
who's
won,'
he
complained.

For
a
moment
she
imagined
he
was
serious
and
then
decided
to
appreciate
his
sense
of
humour
and
laugh.

'Of
course,
as
far
as
judging
May's
work,'
he
reflected,
'like
you
say,
you
haven't
been
there
long
yourself.’

'She's
efficient.
It
doesn't
take
long
to
tell
that.’

'You
like
her.’

'Well,
I
don't
not
like
her.’

'And
the
Professor?'

'I
don't
know
whether
he's
efficient.
Ask
May!'

'No.
I
meant,
do
you
like
him?'

'Do
we
have
to
talk
shop?
We're
not
in
the
office
now.’

..’
.Fine.
Something
else
to
drink?'

'I'll
get
them.’

But
he
took
the
money
from
her
hand.
'You
sit
and
relax.
I'll
bring
them.’

'Fine,'
she
said,
borrowing
the
word
from
him.
Accepting
his
invitation
for
a
drink
had
seemed
simpler
than
refusing.
But
quite
apart
from
the
legitimate
reasons
for
disliking
him
–
above
all
that
Maitland
had
complicated
things
so
horribly
by
sticking
him
into
a
room
in
the
flat –
he
got
on
her
nerves
unreasonably.

A
surreptitious
check
on
her
change
suggested
he
had paid
for
almost
that entire
round
also.

'I
wanted
a
double,'
he
said,
as
if
reading
her
mind.
'I
let
myself
be
old-fashioned
and
paid
for
it.’
He
closed
his
fists
and,
grinning
at
her,
mimed
a
boxer
defending
himself.
'We
can
call
it
a
draw.’

As
she
was
puzzling
over
what
on
earth
he
was
talking about,
she
heard
the
unmistakable
voice
of
Viv
Law.
In the
last
few
minutes
the
bar
had
begun
to
fill,
and
most
of
this
change
she
now
saw
had
been
caused
by
the
arrival
of
a
group
of
about
a
dozen
people.
In
the
centre
of
them
a
thin
woman
in
her
early
fifties
was
patting
with
yellow
fingers
at
wisps
of
hair
drawn
out
in
untidy
strands.

'That's
Viv
Law
just
come
in,'
she
said.
'At
the
table
behind
you.’

'Who?'

'Viv
Law.
She's
a
journalist.
She
does
work
on
occasion
to
help
out
at
the
Trust.
The
“Good Works” thing
again.
I
doubt
if
she
gets
paid.
Of
course,
she's
a
friend
of
Professor
Ure's.’

'For
someone
who
hasn't
been
there
long,
you
have
it all
taped,'
he
said
admiringly.

You'd
be surprised how much I know,
she
thought.
About Viv Law, for example. I know why she left the magazine she helped to start; I know how much she loved her father and why she was at odds with her mother; I know why she turned down that advertising job in London. I know – a number of things, but not how to explain that I know any of them.

But
while
she
was
puzzling
over
that,
Sophie
found
a sharp
narrow-eyed
gaze
fixing
her
and
then
the
older woman
was
on
her
feet
and
approaching.
'Aren't
you
with
the
Gregory
and
Rintoul?'

The
question
was
abrupt,
with
an
edge
to
it
that sounded
unfriendly.

Something
else
I
know,
Sophie
remembered.
Viv
Law
has
a
hell
of
a
temper.

'I've
seen
you
there
–
May
Stewart
introduced
us.
I
don't
remember
your
name.’