Living With Marc

‘Today?’ That was fine by Maybelle.

‘Yes,’ said Robin.

‘Where have you been living?’ Marc asked.

He hadn’t thought she would want to live in, on duty twenty-four hours more or less, and her enthusiastic response had increased his misgivings. He noticed that Robin didn’t answer at once.

Her tongue licked her lips as if they were dry and it was Maybelle who said, ‘Robin lives with her aunt and uncle. She has done since she was very young.’

‘And now she wants to leave?’

Why not? Nearly everyone left their childhood home. And Robin said, ‘Well, yes, I think it’s time I did,’ and smiled at Maybelle because she had a sickening feeling that if she met Marc Hammond’s piercing eyes he would know what had happened this morning—every move, every word. ‘I’m twenty,’ she said. ‘Don’t you think it’s time?’

‘Twenty today,’ said Maybelle. ‘It’s Robin’s birthday, so isn’t this a red-letter day?’

‘There’s another coincidence,’ said Marc. ‘And that, I presume, is a birthday present.’ He meant the bracelet, and he probably thought she had lied about her birthday so that the old lady would find something pretty, and possibly valuable, to give her.

‘Want to see my birth certificate?’ Robin asked with heavy sarcasm.

‘Not at the moment,’ he said blandly, and Maybelle hastily changed the subject.

‘And Robin is staying.’ Marc wouldn’t go back on that now.

‘That is how it looks.’ He was reluctant but resigned. ‘I’m not happy about the situation; you both know that. I don’t consider her suitable.’

This time Robin glared back at him and wished she could say, And I don’t want any job where there’s a risk of coming into contact with you. But she did want the job—for practical reasons and because she liked Maybelle, and there was satisfaction in getting the better of Marc Hammond. Deep down he must be fuming at the idea of the wild child he’d thrown out of his offices moving into his home.

It wouldn’t last, of course, and that was what he was implying when he said, ‘But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt for now.’ He meant he would be waiting for an excuse to dump her again. And something probably would happen because something usually did.

Robin heard herself laugh scornfully. ‘You won’t give me the benefit of the doubt. You were against me from the first day I was working for you, before there was any trouble at all. All you said was “Good morning; I hope you’ll be happy here,” but I knew what you were thinking.’

He almost laughed himself. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘You’re sharp enough, I’ll grant you that. I thought, We’ve got a time bomb here—and a few days later there was blood on the floor.

‘As I’ve already said, you don’t seem to have changed. You’re still trouble on a short fuse and there had better be none of it around Maybelle. So watch it, Miss Robin Johnson, because I shall be watching you and I rarely miss a trick...’

CHAPTER TWO

ROBIN said, ‘Fair enough.’ It wasn’t fair that Marc Hammond should turn up when things could have been fine without him, but that was life.

‘So I’ll leave you to it,’ he said, and uncoiled himself out of the winged armchair, and once he was out of the room Robin felt her spirits rising and her strained smile become relaxed and real.

Maybelle Myson’s smile was gleeful. ‘We’ve done it, haven’t we? Isn’t this splendid?’

‘Isn’t it just?’ said Robin. She would be out before long—he’d see to that—but for now it was an enjoyable break for both of them.

‘First of all, your salary.’ Mrs Myson named a figure. ‘Is that all right?’

‘Great. Yes, thank you,’ said Robin. It was very fair indeed, especially as she would be living in, and, it seemed, she was living in starting now, because Mrs Myson asked her if she wanted to stay tonight and she said, ‘Yes, please.’

‘You’ll have to let your family know.’

‘I’ll phone,’ Robin said, although she couldn’t speak to Aunt Helen yet and Aunt Helen always answered the phone.

They went through a few pages of the appointments book. ‘Not much tomorrow,’ said Maybelle. ‘I have to go to an animal-rescue centre in the morning. The rest of the day’s free. I’ve some friends coming round in the evening.’

She seemed to lead a full and pleasant life; Robin had been mistaken in wondering if she might be lonely. She had plenty of friends, but at her age someone should be seeing that she didn’t overtire herself, put too much strain on her heart.

I could do that, Robin thought. I’d have loved a grandmother like you. I could take care of you if he’d let me.

When it began to grow dusky Robin switched on a lamp which bathed the room in a mellow glow, and suggested, ‘Shall I take the tray down? Can I get you anything?’

‘We’ll have supper later, but perhaps a glass of milk.’

Robin carried the tray downstairs towards the back of the house, opening what looked like the kitchen door.

It was a big room, a model modern kitchen so far as equipment went, but also with an old Welsh dresser that reached to the ceiling and with a scrubbed-topped table. The woman called Elsie sat at the table and Marc Hammond lounged against a worktop on which a coffee percolator was bubbling away.

He had taken off his jacket and was in shirtsleeves with his tie loosened. His throat had the same deep tan as his face and Robin thought his arms and his chest would have too. She couldn’t imagine his being pale and soft-skinned anywhere.

He was relaxed now, but the coffee looked black and bitter enough to fuel his brain while he worked all through the night.

‘I’ll take that.’ Elsie jumped up and took the tray from her, quickly, as if she was afraid that Robin might drop the good china. She put the tray on the table and looked at Marc Hammond with beady, bright eyes.

‘Nothing to do with me,’ he said. ‘She’s Maybelle’s choice.’

Elsie stared at Robin then. ‘I’ve seen you somewhere before, haven’t I? I thought that when I let you in.’

‘Around town, probably,’ said Marc. ‘She’s a girl who gets noticed.’

‘Are you an actress?’ There was a theatre company locally.

‘I shouldn’t be surprised,’ said Marc.

‘No, I’m not,’ Robin said.

‘You’re going to be driving Miss Maybelle?’ Elsie was not happy about that. Her mouth was pursing into worried lines.

‘That’s the idea. And generally making sure that she behaves herself,’ said Marc.

Robin waited for Elsie. to ask, That who behaves herself? But Elsie only sighed deeply and said, ‘Well, I suppose anybody’s better than nobody. Miss Johnson, is it?’

‘Robin,’ said Robin, hiding a wry smile, and Elsie looked as if that was a name she could hardly believe either.

‘May I have a glass of milk for Mrs Myson?’ asked Robin.

Elsie took a glass from the dresser and poured milk from the fridge, enquiring as she handed over the glass, ‘She’s stopping upstairs, is she?’ and when Robin said she didn’t know the housekeeper went on, ‘I’ll bring her supper up in about half an hour; will you be staying?’

‘Robin has been persuaded to live with us,’ Marc drawled. ‘She’s taking up her duties right away. You will be moving in tonight, will you?’