Misleading Engagement

He stared at her as if he still wasn’t sure who she was. ‘Thank you,’ he said politely, and collapsed backwards onto the large sofa. ‘Yes, by all means open it.’

She let him sit there while she managed to get the case open. It contained his morning suit, carelessly folded, three clean handkerchiefs, and a crumpled white shirt rolled round a pair of underpants. There was also shaving gear and a hairbrush and comb. She felt all round the edges of the case without success. As a last resort she examined the striped trousers. No large pockets in them! Then she held up the coat and found that it had an inside pocket which seemed to contain something bulky. Hardly daring to hope, she felt inside it—and drew out the missing cassette.

Anne couldn’t restrain a little whoop of pure joy and relief. ‘Oh, thank you, thank you,’ she cried, looking at the man on the sofa. He was leaning back with his eyes closed. She shook his arm. ‘I’ve found it,’ she burbled.

He opened his eyes with an effort, mumbled, ‘Have you? Good,’ and then closed them again.

Anne regarded him doubtfully. He didn’t really look drunk, he looked absolutely exhausted. His face was colourless and there were deep dark smudges below his eyes. She would make some black coffee and then wake him up and somehow get him back in his car—although he really didn’t look as if he should be driving. Well, she’d have to see how things went.

While the kettle was boiling she took the cassette to the editing suite and placed it tenderly on the worktop. She’d run it through on the monitor to check up on it, even gloat a little, as soon as she’d got rid of Mark Rayne.

In the kitchen the kettle had boiled. Anne spooned coffee liberally into a mug, filled it and carried it back to the sitting room. In her absence the man had made himself comfortable. He was stretched out on the sofa, his long legs curled up like a child’s. He was breathing deeply and evenly, undoubtedly fast asleep. The thick black lashes that she had seen through the zoom lens rested on his cheekbones. His mouth, no longer held in a stern, tight line, was relaxed as he breathed deeply.

She put down the cup of coffee and went on staring at him. He really was fabulously good-looking. Anne’s mouth twitched into a soft smile—the smile of amused tenderness that she would bestow on any sleeping creature, human or not.

‘Yes,’ she said aloud. ‘You’re very appealing, no doubt. But you can’t stay here.’ She leaned forward and shouted, ‘Mr Rayne.’

No reply.

‘Mr Rayne, I’ve made some coffee. Wake up, can’t you?’ She shook his arm as hard as she could.

Silence, except for the faintest of grunts.

Anne frowned, perplexed. So—it was like that, was it? She couldn’t get rid of him unless she removed him bodily—which was impossible—or rang for the police—which was unthinkable.

She sighed. He wasn’t going to wake up for some time, and she did owe him a debt of gratitude for returning the cassette, however tardily. He might as well stay here and have his sleep out. She fetched a blanket and draped it over him. He didn’t stir when she pulled off his shoes. The suitcase lay on the chair, its contents hanging out. Well, he could pack that for himself when he left. He would probably wake some time in the night and let himself out.

She lit the table lamp and switched off the main light. Was there anything else? Oh, yes—his car. It had been left standing in the road, unlocked. Anne rushed out, holding her breath. There had been a car theft in this road only last week.

She breathed again when she saw that it was still there, with the keys hanging from the ignition. She regarded it doubtfully. Ought she to move it into the parking space at the back of the house? She’d never handled a powerful car like this in her life and the passage between the two houses was quite narrow. Better leave it where it was. There was probably some security gadget fitted. She locked the driver’s door and found that the other doors locked as well.

Taking the keys back to the house, she placed them on the low table by the sofa. Mark Rayne was even more deeply asleep. He looked very peaceful. Anne went out and closed the door. Now, at last, to watch the result of all her work this afternoon.

Fetching her glasses from the kitchen, she managed to perch them on her nose. She could see the monitor screen well enough if she didn’t move her bead. The recording proved to be superb—the best thing she’d ever done. Nothing of importance had been missed, the angles were just right and the lighting inside the church had been much better than Anne had expected. She ran it through to the end and shut off the monitor with a sigh of satisfaction. How truly terrible if she had actually lost it through her own carelessness! She felt a surge of gratitude to Mark Rayne for bringing it back to her.

Turning off the downstairs lights again, she listened for a moment outside the sitting-room door. There wasn’t a sound from inside. Well, let him enjoy his sleep, she thought, her mouth quirking into a soft smile.

As she climbed the stairs to her bedroom she was suddenly overcome with tiredness. It had been a gruelling day, one way or another. She washed her face, cleaned her teeth and, standing by the bed, wondered for a moment whether she should keep her clothes on. After all, there was a strange man sleeping in the sitting room. Anne shrugged. She was almost sure he didn’t present a threat. But when she had pulled off her jeans and top and put her nightdress on she went across the room and locked the door. She climbed into bed and was fast asleep within five minutes.

Anne woke later than usual. The first thing she did was cross the room, pull back the curtains and look down into the road. Yes, the green car was still there, steaming gently as the sun dispersed the morning dew from its long, sleek bonnet. She was annoyed to find that her heart was beating faster than usual.

She didn’t have to worry about what the neighbours might think if they saw a strange man leaving her house with a suitcase early in the morning. Most of the houses in the road had been made into flats, and there was such a rapid turnover of occupants that she never had time to get to know anyone. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was how she was going to deal with Mark Rayne.

It was such a very odd situation. If he had been a man she knew, she could have turned the whole thing into an amusing episode and they would have laughed together and avoided any awkwardness. But she hadn’t even seen him smile yet. She wondered if he would remember saying that she looked like Goldilocks. Probably not. It had seemed out of character.

She wasn’t at all sure why she chose to wear a golden yellow top with her jeans this morning. Probably because it was her favourite and she needed something to boost her courage when she went down to deal with her unconventional visitor.

When she opened the sitting-room door she was relieved to find that he was awake. He had put on his shoes and the blanket was folded neatly on the sofa. He was in the process of trying to get his case locked and looked round quickly when he heard her come in. She decided to play it lightly, even if he didn’t respond. She smiled at him. ‘Good morning, Mr Rayne. Sorry you didn’t have a more comfortable bed.’

He straightened his long body. ‘I really am desperately sorry. I feel ashamed of myself for passing out on you like I must have done. A couple of whiskies with friends at my hotel on top of the champagne and having been driving for about thirty-six hours was the reason, if not the excuse. I hope your family aren’t thinking of handing me over to the police. Perhaps I could see your mother and apologise to her, as well as to you.’

‘My parents are both dead. There’s only me,’ Anne said simply.

He looked hard at her with a lift of his thick dark brows. ‘Do you mean to say you live alone in the house? And you allowed me to stay here all night?’

She laughed. ‘I didn’t have much choice. You were sleeping the sleep of the—what is it?—the just or the unjust? Anyway, you were immovable. You were in no fit state to drive either. Also, I felt eternally grateful to you for bringing the cassette. So, all things considered, what would you have expected me to do?’

‘You could have rung the police,’ he suggested. ‘Although,’ he added quite seriously, ‘your sofa was much more comfortable than a cell in the police station, I’m sure.’ He was looking hard at her, but still he didn’t smile. ‘May I ask who you are?’

Anne gasped in surprise. ‘I’m Anne Grey, of course. Don’t you remember me from the wedding?’

He shook his head. ‘You look so very different. But I must believe it if you tell me so.’

Nothing about Goldilocks this morning! Anne wanted to giggle.

He turned back to struggle with the lock of the case again. Anne said, ‘Let me help. I’m afraid I had to pull things out last night when I was searching for the cassette.’

She took out the morning coat and refolded it carefully. She put it back and her hand touched his as he held the large case steady while she got the lid shut. She drew in a quick breath as a thrill of electricity passed up her arm. She had often read about this sudden sexual attraction that could pass between two complete strangers, but had never quite believed it could happen. She forced down the lid of the case and held it while he snapped the locks.

‘Thank you,’ he said, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. But she could feel that they were looking steadily at her. She wished he would laugh, or even smile—anything to break the strange awkwardness that had suddenly sprung up between them.

At last he said, ‘Well, I’ll relieve you of my company, and thanks again for your kindness.’ He carried the case into the hall.

Suddenly Anne knew that she didn’t want him to go yet. She wanted to find out more about him. ‘Have you far to drive?’ she asked.

The long mouth drew into a rueful grimace. ‘About three hundred miles.’

‘Oh, dear, then you must let me make you a cup of coffee before you go,’ she said quickly. ‘If you’d like to wash, the cloakroom is just down the passage. Come into the kitchen when you’re ready.’ She didn’t give him time to refuse. She hurried into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. She made two mugs of coffee and popped two pieces of bread into the toaster, laying butter and marmalade on the table with plates and knives.

A few minutes later Mark Rayne joined her. ‘I feel more human now,’ he said. He had evidently put his head under the tap; his black hair was wet and gleaming. He ran a hand over his chin. ‘I would have had a shave, in your honour, but I couldn’t face the hassle of getting the case opened and closed again, so please forgive me if I look like a pirate.’ He took the chair which Anne indicated.

She put a mug of coffee before him and said, ‘Don’t let that worry you. I broke my glasses last night so I can’t see you properly.’ She wished she could see his expression, but without her glasses his face was blurred.

At last he said, ‘That’s what it is. You were wearing glasses yesterday—and your hair was different, surely?’

She shook out her mop of gold curls. ‘I always wear it tied back when I’m working, and I always wear dark clothes so that I can fade into the background.’

‘I see,’ he said. ‘I was conscious of a small grey ghost flitting about the church.’ She could almost imagine he was smiling. But his tone was serious again as he said, ‘It’s really very kind of you to feed me like this, especially when I put you to such trouble last night.’ He spread marmalade on a piece of toast. ‘Will you give my apologies to your fiancé when you tell him? I wish I could see him myself to explain.’

Anne looked down at the ring on her left hand, and for a moment she wondered whether to tell this man that her engagement had been ended months ago, but she couldn’t do that without telling him why the ring was still on her finger. So she said lightly, ‘Oh, Keith would understand; he’s abroad at present.’

Mark Rayne was looking hard at her with a slight frown. ‘I keep wondering why you’re living alone in this big house. Surely it’s too large for one small girl? Or is that a tactless remark?’ he added hastily.

She felt herself flush very slightly. She supposed it might be taken for granted, in this day and age, that she and her fiancé should be living together. She didn’t quite know why she should be so eager to dispel that idea from his mind. ‘It’s my family home. I live quite alone here. My mother died soon after I was born and my father died only last month,’ she said quietly. She had to turn her face away quickly to hide the tears that sprang into her eyes; she hadn’t yet got over Daddy’s death. ‘Of course it’s too big for me. I shall have to try my luck in the house market soon, I suppose.’

He nodded. ‘Yes, perhaps you should do that,’ he said gravely. He finished his coffee and the last piece of toast and stood up. ‘Well, mind you don’t let in any more wandering good-for-nothings to disturb you.’

‘I would let anyone in if they brought me back something valuable that I’d lost,’ she said, quite seriously.