Kay Thorpe – The Wedding Deception (страница 7)
‘Well, it would have saved all this, wouldn’t it? A
‘I know what it’s called.’ Claire hardly knew whether to believe her or not. ‘I’m glad you didn’t.’
She looked at the stretch of lawn still to be cut, feeling anything but enthusiastic about completing the job. Only, if she didn’t, who would? Jill had shown little interest in the garden at the best of times. In any case, should everything work out as planned, she wouldn’t be here much longer.
It would seem strange to be on her own, Claire thought, depressed. Jill might not be much of a help around the house but she was someone to come home to in the evening, someone who made cooking a meal worthwhile. Life would be very empty without her.
She was running on ahead of herself again, she acknowledged at that point. Nothing was certain until it was an accomplished fact.
‘You’d better start thinking about what you’re going to wear this afternoon, if you want to create a good impression,’ she said with forced lightness. ‘There’s that white dress you’ve never had on yet.’
Jill pulled a face, looking even younger than her years for a moment. ‘I’m not dressing up like a dog’s dinner just to create an impression,’ she stated inelegantly. ‘I’ll wear what I feel comfortable in.’
What Jill felt comfortable in was either jeans or skirts more like wide belts, neither of which, Claire judged, would suit the Laxtons’ sartorial tastes. On the other hand, what was the point in her trying to conform to a standard set by others? Scott had fallen for her the way she was, and his opinion was the important one.
‘Fine,’ she agreed. ‘We both will. I’d better get on with this if I want to finish it before lunch. Heaven only knows when we’ll have another dry day.’
‘I’ll get lunch ready, if you like,’ offered Jill with a munificent air. ‘You have enough to do.’
Considering that they were only having tinned salmon and last night’s left-over salad, it would hardly take much effort, but Claire wasn’t about to turn the offer down. ‘That would be a big help,’ she agreed.
If Jill registered any irony at all, she wasn’t about to let it bother her. Hair swinging, hips slim as a boy’s, she trotted off back to the house.
Watching her go, Claire felt a moment’s near envy of her sister’s buoyant spirit. So far as Jill was concerned, everything was going swimmingly. She wished that she could feel as confident of it herself.
Lunch over, the dishes washed and put away and a few other essential odd jobs taken care of, she went upstairs to take a shower and put on a crisp tan and white-striped cotton dress with short sleeves and a narrowbelted waist, sliding her feet into tan leather sandals with her favourite if not particularly fashionable three-inch heels.
Jill had topped her by the age of fifteen, and was now around five feet seven without the aid of shoes. Attempting to assert authority over someone several inches taller was no easy matter, Claire had long ago realised.
Not that it always followed. Her father had been a sixfooter, her mother an inch shorter than Claire was herself, but her mother’s word had been law. It was all down to strength of character, she supposed. When it came to any real battle of wills, Jill could beat her hands down any day of the week.
Which made an absolute mockery of Jill’s claim to have been overruled when it came to choosing which universities to apply to for a place, she thought now, sitting down at the dressing-table to apply a light makeup. Jill had been only too vocal in stating where she wanted to go. That was before she had met Scott, of course. He had changed everything. It was only to be hoped that Claire’s own first impressions of him proved sound in the long run.
The green eyes looking back at her from the mirror were less than convinced. No matter how much she tried to be optimistic, there was no guarantee that this marriage would last. Scott appeared OK on the surface, but who could tell what he was really like underneath? He might come to regret being tied down with a wife and child at such a comparatively early age, while his brother still enjoyed the freedom to pick and choose.
However, there was little she could do about it now, she acknowledged fatalistically. Marriage was a gamble whichever way it began.
Jill’s choice of mid-thigh-length skirt and matching cropped jacket in pale blue was surprisingly demure. Her legs had lost the coltish look of a year or so ago and had gained a lovely shape. With her hair hanging straight and shining down to her shoulders, she was altogether a sight for sore eyes, thought Claire tenderly, though she was still so heart-breakingly young to be in this position.
Warmed by the sun after standing out on the drive, the Panda not only started first pull but sounded positively eager to be up and off. Which was more than she felt herself, Claire was bound to admit.
The Laxton home was out in Hope Valley, which meant going right through town. As anticipated on such a fine afternoon, the through-route was thronged with traffic heading for the Dales. Following a packed Ford Granada up a hill, she misjudged her gear-change on the steep bend, and received an irritated blast on the horn from the vehicle behind at her lack of acceleration.
‘Road-hog!’ shouted Jill as the car pulled out and roared past them, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with one coming down the hill. ‘Just because you’re driving a blasted Porsche!’
‘He can’t possibly hear you,’ Claire pointed out, and received a grin.
‘I know, but it lets off steam. You should try it instead of just sitting there being all cool and collected.’
Only on the outside, reflected Claire wryly. The coming meeting promised to be anything but an easy-going affair. There would be awkwardness on both sides, with her own position, as Jill’s guardian and supposed mentor, the most untenable of all. Who else could be held responsible for her young sister’s seeming lack of moral values?
Hopefully, having shot his bolt last night, Ross would be absent. The last thing she needed was another confrontation with
They were three miles out of town amid open moorland when the front off-side tyre blew. Claire fought with the steering, which had gone suddenly extremely heavy, and brought the car to a jerky halt at the roadside.
‘Damn!’ she said forcefully. ‘This would have to happen today of all days!’
‘It’s almost half-past three already,’ announced Jill, as if it made any difference. ‘What do we do now?’
Claire refrained from stating the obvious. Turning off the engine, she got out to go and open up the boot. She was hardly dressed for changing a wheel, but what choice did she have?
Next moment she was gazing disbelievingly at a spare tyre as flat as the proverbial pancake. Since she had had the last puncture repaired a couple of months back, it hadn’t occurred to her to make a check. She’d simply taken it for granted that everything was OK.
Whatever had caused the leak, they were going to get no further on this than the one already on the car, she acknowledged ruefully. Which left them well and truly stranded.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Jill, getting out to see what was holding things up. She looked at the deflated tyre in dismay. ‘Oh, no!’
‘Oh, yes, I’m afraid.’ Claire was apologetic. ‘One of those classic situations you generally only see on film.’
‘What do we do now?’ Jill repeated. ‘They’ll think we’re not coming!’
‘Hardly.’ Eyes on the fast-moving traffic, Claire tried to think. ‘If Scott telephones the house he’ll realise we’ve already left. He’ll know something must have happened when we don’t turn up inside another half an hour or so, and will probably come looking. In the meantime,’ she added, with determined practicality, ‘we’ll just have to sit and wait.’
‘We could thumb a lift,’ suggested Jill hopefully ‘There’s sure to be somebody going that way.’
Claire shook her head. ‘Hitching can be dangerous.’
‘Not if it’s a family.’
‘If it’s a family, there’s unlikely to be room for anyone else. Anyway, it would be an imposition.’
Jill put on her most stubborn expression. ‘Well, there’s no harm in trying.’
She moved to the kerb, all hair and legs and winning smile as she lifted a hand in the time-honoured gesture. Two drivers tooted their horns but didn’t stop, while the rest sailed past without acknowledgement.
Having pulled up just past a big bend, they were out of sight until it was too late for cars to signal a stop, Claire reckoned. A dangerous situation altogether, in fact. All it needed was for someone to take the bend too fast, and they’d be on them before they could pull out.
About to suggest that they push the car further along the road, she paused in consternation as the big silver Mercedes just flashing past signalled abruptly and pulled up some twenty yards or so ahead of them. Ross waited for a break in the following traffic before easing himself from behind the wheel to walk back to them.
Wearing a dark blue jacket and lighter blue trousers and shirt, he looked taller than ever—and certainly no less devastating. He took in the situation at a glance, face impassive.