A Paper Marriage. Jessica Steele

cheese and tomatoes, though Lydie observed that the elderly lady ate very little.

      Lydie visited with her great-aunt for some while, then, thinking she was probably wanting her afternoon nap, said she would make tracks back to Beamhurst Court. ‘Come back with me!’ she said on impulse—her mother would kill her. ‘You could stay until after the wedding, and—’

      ‘Your mother would love that!’

      ‘Oh, do come,’ Lydie appealed.

      ‘I’ve got too much to do here,’ Alice Gough refused stubbornly.

      ‘You don’t—’ Lydie broke off. She had been going to say You don’t look well. She changed it to, ‘You’re a little pale, Aunty. Are you sure you’re all right?’

      ‘At my age I’m entitled to creak a bit!’ And with that Lydie had to be satisfied.

      ‘I’ll come over early next Saturday,’ she said as her great-aunt came out to her car with her.

      ‘Tell your mother I’ll leave my gardening gloves at home,’ Alice Gough answered completely po-faced.

      Lydie had to laugh. ‘Wicked, did I say?’ And she drove away.

      The nearer she got to Beamhurst Court, though, the more her spirits started to dip. She was worried about her great-aunt, she was worried about the cold war escalating between her parents, and she was worried, quite desperately worried, about where in the world she was going to find fifty-five thousand pounds with which to pay Jonah Marriott.

      And, having thought about him—not that he and that wretched money were ever very far from the front of her mind—she could not stop thinking about him—in Paris. She hoped it kept fine for him. That made her laugh at herself—she was getting as sour as her mother.

      ‘Aunty doesn’t look so well,’ Lydie reported to her mother.

      ‘What’s the matter with her?’

      ‘She didn’t say, but…’

      ‘She wouldn’t! Typical!’ Hilary Pearson sniffed. ‘Some man called Charles Hillier has been on the phone for you.’

      ‘Charlie. He’s Donna’s brother. Did he say why he phoned?’

      ‘I told him to ring back.’

      Poor Charlie; he was as shy as she had been one time. But while to a large extent she had grown out of her shyness, Charlie never had. He had probably been terrified of her mother. Lydie went up to her room and dialled his number. ‘I’m sorry I was out when you rang,’ she apologised. She was very fond of Charlie. He was never going to set her world on fire, but she thought of him as a close friend.

      ‘Did I ring your mother at a bad time?’ he asked nervously.

      ‘No—she’s a little busy. My brother’s getting married next Saturday.’ Lydie covered the likelihood that her mother had been rude to Charlie if he had been in stammering mode.

      ‘Ah. Right,’ he said, and went on to say he had planned to ask her to go to the theatre with him tonight, and had been shaken when he’d rung Donna to hear that she had already left Donna’s home. ‘You’re helping with the wedding, I expect,’ he went on. ‘Would you have any free time? I’ve got the tickets and everything. I thought we’d have a meal afterwards and you could stay the night here, if you like. That is…You’ve probably got something else arranged?’ he ended diffidently.

      ‘I’d love to go to the theatre with you,’ Lydie accepted. ‘Would it put you out if I stayed?’

      ‘Your bed’s already made up,’ he said happily back, and she could almost see his face beaming.

      Lydie went to tell her mother that she was going to the theatre with Charlie Hillier and would not be back until mid-morning the next day.

      ‘You’re spending the night with him?’

      ‘He has a flat in London. It could be quite late when we finish. It seems more sensible to stay than to drive home afterwards.’

      ‘You’re having an affair with him?’ her mother shook her by accusing.

      ‘Mother!’ Honestly! Charlie wouldn’t know how to go about an affair. Come to think of it, Lydie mused whimsically, neither would she. ‘Charlie’s just a friend. More like a brother than anything. And nothing more than that.’

      Lydie went back upstairs and put a few things into an overnight bag. Charlie had overcome his shyness one time to attempt to kiss her, but had confessed, when they’d both ended up mightily embarrassed, that he had kissed her more because he thought he ought to than anything else. From then on a few ground rules had been established and they had progressed to be good friends who, on the odd, purely spontaneous moment, would sometimes kiss cheeks in greeting or parting. She had stayed at his flat several times with Donna and young Thomas before baby Sofia had come along. But over the last year Lydie had a couple of times comfortably spent the night in his spare bedroom after a late night in London.

      The play Charlie took her to was a light-hearted, enjoyable affair. ‘Shall we get a drink?’ he asked at interval time.

      For herself, she wasn’t bothered, but felt that Charlie probably wanted one. ‘A gin and tonic sounds a good idea,’ she accepted, and went with him to mingle with the crowd making their slow way to the bar.

      They eventually entered the bar, where she decided to wait to one side while Charlie got the drinks. But Lydie had taken only a step or two when all of a sudden, with her heart giving the oddest little flip, she came face to face with none other than Jonah Marriott!

      He stopped dead, his wonderful blue eyes on the riot of colour that flared to her face. ‘I thought you were in Paris!’ she blurted out, surprised at seeing him so unexpectedly causing the words to rush from her before she could stop them.

      ‘I came back,’ he replied smoothly.

      She could do without his smart remarks. It was obvious he had come back! ‘I need to see you,’ she said tautly—by no chance did she intend to discuss her business where they stood. But suddenly she spotted something akin to devilment in his eyes and knew then that if he answered with something smart—That’s what they all say—she was going to hit him, regardless of where they were.

      He did not say what she expected, but instead drawled, ‘Monday, same time, same place,’ and they both moved on.

      She felt unnerved, unsettled, and wished it were Monday, when she would march into his office and demand to know why he had given her a cheque for fifty-five thousand pounds! She was glad when Charlie returned with their drinks.

      But Lydie started to feel worse than ever when she abruptly realised that to demand why of Jonah wasn’t relevant. What was relevant was to make some arrangement with him to pay him back. Her spirits sank—how? With that question unanswered, she flicked a glance around—her gaze halting when she spotted Jonah. He was not looking at her but over in their direction, at the tall manly back of her dark-haired escort. Her glance slid from Jonah to the stunning, last word in perfection blonde he was escorting. And she’d thought her spirits couldn’t get any lower!

      Not wanting Jonah to catch her looking in his direction, Lydie tore her eyes away from the sophisticated blonde. ‘How’s business?’ she asked Charlie.

      ‘We’ve got a new woman at the office—she started a couple of weeks ago,’ he said, and went red.

      ‘Charlie Hillier!’ Lydie teased. ‘You’re smitten.’

      He laughed self-consciously, and she smiled affectionately at him. ‘Well, she is rather nice.’

      ‘Are you going to ask her out?’

      He looked horrified. ‘Heck, no! I hardly know her!’

      Dear Charlie. He had been a frequent visitor to his sister’s home, but Lydie had known him a year before they had begun to graduate from more than an