Come Running

“Do you believe in omens, Miss Anderson?” he enquired, and she thought he was teasing her.

“Not really.”

“Nor do I.” He smiled. “Would you believe I got married in a heatwave?”

Darrell found herself smiling, but she couldn’t help it, even though his remark had been outrageous. “I – are you going back to London tonight, Mr. Lawford?”

“You know who I am, then?”

Darrell looked up at him in surprise, and in spite of her five feet six inches she had to look up at him, holding her boater on to the back of her head. “Of course. You’re Susan’s brother.”

“And do you call all her brothers Mr. Lawford?”

Darrell shook her head, and he nodded. “So – the name’s Matthew, or Matt, if you’d rather. That’s what the family call me. And no, I’m not driving back to London tonight.”

Darrell could feel her hair working loose from the coronet she had secured on top of her head, and red-gold tendrils were tumbling about her ears. Dropping the hem of her skirt, she gave herself up to securing her hair, taking off her hat and sighing resignedly.

“I think I’m fighting a losing battle, don’t you?” she asked lightly, and then pointed into the marquee behind them. “Oh, look! Susan and Frank are leaving.”

The bride and groom left in a shower of confetti, the crowd surging after them to wave them off, and Darrell felt Matthew’s hand close round her wrist for a moment to prevent her from being swept along with them. For a moment she was close against him, his chest hard against the softness of her full breasts. Then he had set her free again and was saying apologetically: “Sorry about that, but people get carried away here – literally!” He smiled. “I understand my mother has invited you to join us at the house this evening. They don’t allow the excuse for a freak-out to go unchallenged around here. Perhaps you’ve noticed. Not that they’d call it a freak-out,” he amended wryly. “A knees-up, perhaps.” He paused. “Anyway, if you’d like to go home and change first, my car’s at your disposal.”

Darrell didn’t know what to say. She, who was usually so cool and collected with men, felt as nervous as a schoolgirl on her first date, and the feeling was unfamiliar and not altogether pleasant. She didn’t even know why she was feeling this way. Matthew Lawford had been amusing and polite, but nothing more. He was no doubt used to making small talk with his wife’s friends, and it meant no more to him than that. But a few moments ago, when his fingers had fastened round her wrist, she had experienced a terrifying new sensation that bore little resemblance to casual acquaintanceship.

“I – er – I came with Doctor Morrison and his wife – from the hospital,” she explained awkwardly. “I expect I’ll go home with them. I can always get a bus back later.” She glanced at her watch as though to confirm this. “After all, it’s only half past four.”

Matthew Lawford inclined his head. “If that’s what you prefer.”

Darrell felt terrible. It wasn’t what she preferred at all, but something, some inner sense warned her that further association with this man would be dangerous for her. She glanced round and saw to her relief that people were coming back again. The bride and groom had left for the bride’s home in Windsor Street to get changed. Pretty soon, the reception would break up and only the family and close friends would gather later on at the house. She felt vaguely relieved when another of Susan’s brothers came to join them.

Jeff Lawford was twenty-two, a year younger than Darrell, and a welder at a local steel works. For the past three months, he had been trying to persuade Darrell to go out with him, and he smiled at her now, flicking a speculative glance towards his older brother.

“Well?” he commented. “It went off very well, didn’t it? In spite of the lousy weather!”

“Susan looked beautiful,” exclaimed Darrell enthusiastically and Jeff gave her an old-fashioned look.

“Susan could never look beautiful!” he asserted with brotherly candour. “But she did look nice.” He surveyed Darrell thoroughly and with evident approval. “Now, if you had been the bride …”

Darrell coloured. “Oh, Jeff!”

“What’s wrong? With that red hair, you’d be a sensation!”

“It’s not red,” she retorted. “It’s darker than that.”

“If you say so.” Jeff grinned, and then slapped Matthew on the shoulder. “Fancy a beer, Matt?”

Matthew flexed his shoulder muscles. “I wouldn’t say no,” he conceded, glancing at Darrell. “Will you excuse us?”

“Of course.”

Darrell managed a smile in return, and then breathed a sigh almost of relief as they moved away. A small, motherly little woman was approaching her, and she turned to greet Susan’s mother with real warmth.

“Oh, Darrell,” said Mrs. Lawford, patting her arm. “I haven’t had a minute to talk to you since this morning. How did it go? Did you enjoy yourself? Did everyone have enough to eat and drink, do you think?”

Darrell relaxed. “Oh, of course they did. The meal was delicious. And everything went off perfectly. Susan looked a dream, didn’t she?”

“Do you think so?” Mrs. Lawford beamed with motherly pride. “I must say, I thought she looked really lovely. She and Frank have gone back to the house to change. I’m hoping they’ll be able to slip away unobserved. You know how it is.”

“That’s what I’m planning to do, too,” remarked Darrell dryly, indicating the hat in her hand. “My hair’s coming loose, and this dress is beginning to annoy me.”

“Oh, but you looked lovely, dear. You have such pretty colouring. And your hair always looks nicer, loose about your shoulders.” She gave an encompassing look around her. “You are coming over this evening, aren’t you? I’m expecting you to. The boys will be there, and Evelyn and Jennifer and their husbands. Matt’s staying over, too. Have you met Matt yet?”

“Oh – y-yes.” Darrell’s fingers tortured the brim of the boater. “I was talking to him a few moments ago.”

“Were you, dear?” Mrs. Lawford wasn’t really listening to her. She clicked her tongue impatiently. “Oh – there’s Celine sitting over there looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth! Why doesn’t she try to join in the fun? She’s done her best to spoil the day!”

“I expect she feels out of place,” murmured Darrell, unconsciously allaying a little of the guilt she felt about her attraction to Matthew, by defending his wife. “She doesn’t come from Sedgeley, does she?”

“Heavens, no.” Mrs. Lawford made a gesture of negation. “She was Celine Galbraith before she married Matt. Her father’s an important man in the city, and the family own some estate in Wiltshire. Thinks herself too good for the likes of us, she does.”

“Oh, Mrs. Lawford …”

“Don’t you think so?”

Darrell shrugged awkwardly. “It’s not for me to say.”

Mrs. Lawford’s sniff was expressive. “Well, how about you coming over and having a word with her? Perhaps she’ll take to you – you being from the south, like.”

Darrell wanted to demur, but Mrs. Lawford was already moving away and she had, perforce, to follow her. Celine looked up languidly at their approach, her expression mirroring her boredom at the proceedings.

“There now, Celine,” exclaimed Mrs. Lawford comfortably. “I’ve brought someone to see you. This is Darrell Anderson, Susan’s friend from the hospital. They’re nurses together.”

“Isn’t that nice?” Celine drawled sardonically, looking up at Darrell without enthusiasm. Close to, Darrell could see the fine lines of dissipation about Celine’s eyes, and a certain nervous agitation in the way they darted about. “We were introduced earlier, weren’t we?”

Darrell nodded. “Yes. At the house. Before the wedding.”

“Ah, yes.” Celine’s lips curled as her mother-in-law moved away. “You don’t come from around here, do you?”

“No, I’m afraid not. I was born in Essex. In Upminster, actually. Do you know it?”

“Do I not! Civilised country!” Celine uttered a short laugh. “Don’t be afraid to tell anyone, my dear. Who’d want to come from around here anyway?”

“I like it,” defended Darrell at once. “I love the north. It’s so much – cleaner, for one thing.”

“Cleaner! Sedgeley?” Celine shook her head pityingly. “You can’t be serious!”

“I am. You don’t get the diesel fumes up here that you get in and around London. Besides, there’s more room to breathe – to live!”

Celine’s mouth twisted cynically. “I can see they’ve got to you all right.”