Shadowed Stranger

How she would have liked to have used her friend as an excuse, to have avoided all the curious questions that were bound to be asked once her family learnt she had been with Rick Howarth for the last hour and a half. But she couldn’t deliberately lie.

She sat down in one of the armchairs. ‘Mr Howarth wasn’t feeling too well—–’

‘Oh dear,’ her mother frowned. ‘He isn’t ill, is he?’

‘No, it was just lack of food.’

‘Did he eat what I sent him?’

‘Yes, that’s why I was so long. I—I wanted to make sure he ate it.’

‘Very wise,’ her mother nodded thoughtfully. ‘I don’t like to see a man starve himself for any. reason.’

Somehow Robyn didn’t think Rick Howarth was in the habit of going without his food. But she didn’t think he was in the habit of getting it himself either! He had been totally lost in the kitchen, and she would swear that he hadn’t used the cooker once in the three weeks he had been in residence. He was obviously used to someone getting his food for him, which pointed to him having a woman somewhere in the background of his life. Or he had would be more appropriate, because he was very much alone now. Maybe his marriage had broken up—a man of his age was sure to be married, which would account for his bitterness towards women.

‘Well, at least he has a hot meal inside him now,’ she told her mother. ‘He said to thank you, and that you’re a very good cook.’

Her mother flushed her pleasure. It wasn’t often she received compliments on her cooking; her family all took such a luxury for granted, although they soon complained if there was anything wrong with it.

‘I think he should get himself a housekeeper,’ her mother said absently.

Robyn didn’t tell her that Rick Howarth had half-heartedly offered her such a position. ‘There isn’t anything to “keep” in that house.’ She bit her lip, realising she was being indiscreet. Rick Howarth certainly wouldn’t thank her for discussing him in this way.

Her father peered over the top of his newspaper. ‘What do you mean by that?’ he asked in a puzzled voice.

She shrugged. ‘He doesn’t have a lot of furniture, that’s all. But as he’s alone I don’t suppose he needs it.’ She stood up. ‘I think I’ll go and wash my hair.’ She hurriedly left the room, reluctant to talk about Rick Howarth any more.

Unfortunately everyone else seemed to want to know about him. ‘Did you see your boy-friend last night?’ Selma wanted to know the next day.

Robyn gave an inward groan, wishing she had never mentioned Rick Howarth to the other girl. ‘He isn’t my boy-friend,’ she told Selma irritably.

‘But you said he was.’

‘Well, he—he’s just a friend. And he happens to be male. That’s really all there is to it.’

Selma shrugged. ‘It’s okay by me if you don’t want to talk about him.’

‘I didn’t say that,’ Robyn sighed. ‘There’s just nothing to tell.’

‘Like I said, if you don’t want to talk about him—–’

‘There’s really nothing to tell,’ Robyn repeated sharply.

Selma gave her a knowing glance. ‘Had an argument, did you?’

‘No!’ she flashed, then realised that here was a way out of this. ‘Yes,’ she deliberately contradicted herself. ‘We did, actually.’

‘I shouldn’t worry about it,’ Selma shrugged. ‘If he’s really interested he’ll be back.’

Considering the fact that Selma and the boy she had met over the weekend had already finished Robyn was surprised that the other girl felt qualified to offer this advice.

And Rick Howarth wouldn’t be ‘back’ in her life at all, in fact she wouldn’t be too upset if she never saw him again.

Her bicycle was back in use, so she wasn’t late back home that evening, although the house was deserted when she went in. It was half day closing at the shop, so her parents should have been here. She found them out in the yard, her father covered in oil from where he was working under the van, her mother looking on anxiously.

‘What’s happened?’ Robyn whispered to her mother, knowing that her father wouldn’t welcome such a question. Having to do any sort of mechanical work on the van was guaranteed to put her father in a bad mood.

Her mother grimaced. ‘It broke down on the delivery this afternoon. Your father had to get Mr Jeffs to help him push it back here.’

‘Oh dear!’ She could imagine her father’s fury. ‘Has he been working on it long?’

‘About two hours,’ her mother told her softly. ‘Your dinner is in the oven. Your father and I will eat later.’

‘Where’s Billy?’

‘Out delivering the groceries for us on his bike.’

Her eyes widened. ‘The van broke down on the way to deliver the groceries?’

‘Mm,’ her mother nodded. ‘Billy’s been out delivering since he got home from school.’

Robyn’s father appeared from under the van, his face smeared with oil. ‘Hello, love,’ he muttered. ‘Pass me that spanner, Barbara. The one at your feet,’ he added tersely as she hesitated.

‘I think I’ll go in and have my dinner,’ Robyn whispered to her mother.

She smiled understandingly. ‘I should.’

‘Barbara, the spanner!’

‘All right, Peter,’ she said patiently, handing it to him.

‘I’ll be in in a moment,’ she told Robyn.

Her mother’s steak and kidney pie melted in the mouth; it was a favourite with Robyn. Her mother came in as she was washing up her used crockery.

‘Everything all right?’ Robyn asked.

She smiled. ‘I think your father is just about finished. Billy’s just got home too, so I think we might be able to have our meal now.’

Robyn frowned. ‘There’s still one box of groceries here.’

‘Oh yes, that’s Mr Howarth’s.’

‘Mr Howarth’s …?’ she echoed in dismay.

‘Mm.’ Her mother heated up the gravy. ‘Billy didn’t think you would mind taking that one over.’

‘Well, I do! I don’t want to go over there, Mum,’ she said pleadingly. ‘I—I didn’t like him very much.’