Point Of No Return

‘That’s all right, then.’ Freda was obviously relieved. ‘Would you get some mint in from the herb garden out the back?’ she asked, the makings of pastry in her mixing bowl. ‘I do like my potatoes to have a bit of mint in them.’

‘But I thought Mr Towers didn’t eat potatoes.’ Megan blushed at Freda’s questioning look. ‘Just someting Mum said,’ she mumbled.

Freda nodded understanding. ‘Mr Towers doesn’t bother with much food at all. I’m always telling him he doesn’t eat enough, but he says he doesn’t see the point of over-indulging.’

Megan wondered if he had the same attitude to all life’s appetites. From the way he had kissed her, twice, she didn’t think he did. His mouth against hers had been frankly sensual, pointing to an experience that hadn’t been gained by abstinence.

But he had no right to kiss her whenever he felt like it, as if it were his due or something. If he ever tried to kiss her again she would—she would—She sighed; she would kiss him right back, she knew she would. Much as she tried to keep up her prejudiced dislike of him, the truth of the matter was that on acquaintance she found him all too disturbing for comfort.

‘Maybe he’s afraid of middle-aged spread,’ she made the same bitchy comment to Freda that she had made to her mother only that morning, although now she knew it to be untrue. Jerome Towers wasn’t thin, not unpleasantly so, his shoulders wide and powerful, tapering down to a slim waist and forceful thighs, his stomach flat and firmly muscled. No, he was a man at the peak of physical fitness, and the closeness of his lithe body against hers had had an arousing effect.

‘At thirty-two?’ Freda scoffed. ‘Go on with you!’

Megan laughingly let herself out into the herb garden, finding the mint with no trouble. She might have lived the first nine years of her life in a town, but she had soon picked up the country ways and knowledge. She and Brian had been much happier here, having room to play, clean air to breathe. It was for the clean air they had come here if they had but known it, their father’s illness being irritated by the town smog.

As she stood up she saw Roddy Meyers looking out at her from one of the upstairs windows, turning angrily away as he dared to grin at her. She would wipe that smile off his face when she met him this afternoon!

Her mother was looking slightly better when she got home at lunchtime, although Megan insisted she stay in bed.

‘How did you get on, love?’ her mother asked worriedly.

‘Just fine. They’re a bit short-staffed today, so I offered to stay on, but Mrs Reece said they would be able to manage.’ Much to her chagrin. If she could have worked this afternoon she would have had a good excuse not to meet Roddy.

‘That was nice of you, dear,’ she smiled. ‘How did you get on with Freda and Mrs Reece?’

Megan shrugged. ‘Freda’s nice, but I hardly saw Mrs Reece, she was busy organising the cleaning of the house.’

‘It’s lovely now, isn’t it? Now that everywhere has been cleaned up and redecorated.’

‘It’s all right,’ Megan agreed grudgingly, aware that Jerome Towers had been responsible for the improvements. ‘Although old Squire Towers always made it seem homely.’

‘It’s homely now, Megan. And it will be even more so when they get a couple of children running around.’

This conjured up pictures of two small children, tall for their age, a boy and a girl, with their father’s dark hair and eyes. They would be lovely children, they would have to be if they looked anything like Jerome Towers.

‘Is Mr Towers thinking of getting married?’ she asked casually. Being away at the hospital she had missed out on a lot of the local gossip this last year, most of it history by the time she came home for a couple of days, and so not related to her.

‘Well, he does have a girl-friend in London. She’s been to The Towers for a couple of weekends—a beautiful little thing, very friendly, with red hair.’

‘Little thing’ rankled. Being five feet eight in her stockinged feet Megan often found herself towering over other women. She would certainly never be the sort of girl men felt protective towards. ‘Did Brian borrow the tractor from The Towers?’ she changed the subject.

‘I think so, dear,’ her mother said vaguely. ‘I passed the message on anyway. He’s called Taylor out from the garage to look at it.’

‘Right,’ Megan stood up. ‘I’ll get you some lunch. I—er—I have to go out later. I shouldn’t be long,’ she added hastily. Just long enough to tell Roddy Meyers that she wouldn’t agree to his blackmail a second time.

‘Are you going out with one of your friends?’ her mother asked interestedly.

‘Er—yes.’ Although she would hardly call Roddy Meyers a friend—a few other choice names, but certainly not friend.

‘That’s good, dear.’ Mrs Finch closed her eyes. ‘I was feeling rather guilty about lying here and leaving you so much on your own.’

‘I’m not here to be entertained, Mum,’ Megan chided. ‘I’m here to work now.’

‘You’re sure there’s no chance of them taking you back at the hospital?’

‘Not unless that boy tells them the truth. And as he’s already left the hospital I don’t think there’s any likelihood of that.’ Besides, Roddy’s attitude this morning to her dismissal had pointed to him not giving a damn.

‘It’s such a shame,’ her mother frowned. ‘You’ve wanted to be a nurse ever since you were a little girl.’

‘Yes,’ Megan agreed grimly. ‘Still,’ she added brightly, ‘we can’t have everything we want in life. And maybe now that I’m home I can be of some help to Brian.’

‘Field work isn’t for a girl, Megan. What we need is another man.’

‘Well, you’ll just have to take what you can get,’ Megan told her lightly, ‘and that’s me!’

‘You haven’t thought any more about selling to Mr Towers?’

Her mouth tightened. ‘I don’t need to think about it. I wouldn’t sell to him if I were destitute.’

‘We aren’t far off that,’ sighed her mother.

‘Don’t be silly,’ Megan said briskly. ‘All it needs is hard work and—–’

‘And don’t you think Brian has been working hard?’ her usually even-tempered mother became angry. ‘Do you think we both haven’t? But it isn’t enough. We can’t manage any more.’

‘But if I—–’

‘It isn’t enough, Megan,’ her mother repeated firmly. ‘Your father left the farm and land between the three of us, but I don’t think he intended for it to be a millstone around our necks. He knew I’d always have a home with your Aunt Rose, as soon as I’d got you two children off my hands, of course, and—–’

‘Thanks!’ Megan said dryly.

‘Well, I expect you’ll get married one day.’

‘I expect.’

Her mother gave her an impatient look. ‘Well, you will, you’re a beautiful girl—even if I do say so myself.’

‘Dad always said I got my beauty from you,’ Megan smiled mischievously.

Her mother blushed. ‘So he did,’ she agreed in a choked voice. ‘Anyway, I’m sure your father intended for us to sell the farm back to Mr Towers, in fact he said as much before he died. He wanted us to use the money as we wanted. Oh, I know Brian wanted to give it a year’s trial, see how he managed.’ She sighed. ‘I think it’s pretty obvious that he can’t manage at all.’

‘So you want to sell?’ Megan asked dully.

‘I do,’ her mother nodded. ‘And I think Brian would too if he could find himself a job in this area. Joyce wouldn’t want to move too far away from her parents.’

Joyce was Brian’s girl-friend of two years, and they were planning to marry soon. As far as Megan knew it could be the financial state of the farm that was holding up those plans.

‘I think you should talk this over with Brian, Megan,’ her mother advised.