Carmichael's Return. Lilian Peake

sighed inwardly. Lucky them, she thought, to have fallen equally hard for each other, to be so sure of each other’s love.

      Leaning out of the wondow, Lauren watched Marie welcoming her guests, who were now arriving in droves.

      Descending the stairs a little later, she noted that Marie and Reggie were busy mingling. Marie turned and saw her friend. ‘Feel free,’ she mouthed, ‘to wander and inspect again.’

      The increasing volume of sound faded as Lauren took Marie at her word. At the end of her journey of discovery Lauren came to the conclusion that it would be a delightful place to live. But alone? She wasn’t so sure.

      ‘This place just goes on and on,’ she commented to Marie as she inspected the buffet-type meal which the caterers had set out in the farmhouse-style kitchen.

      ‘Once it was three separate cottages,’ Marie explained. ‘Through the years they’ve been joined together, and Old Cedar Grange is the result.’

      Lauren frowned. ‘I don’t know how I’ll feel, Marie, living here alone.’

      ‘But, Lauren,’ Marie responded, ‘I’ve been on my own in this place for nearly two months now. That is—’ she coloured just a little ‘—when Reggie hasn’t been with me.’

      ‘There you are, then,’ Lauren took her up. ‘You weren’t alone, were you?’

      ‘So get yourself a boyfriend,’ Reggie joined in the discussion from the kitchen door, ‘and invite him to stay here too.’

      ‘She ditched Mitch,’ Marie pointed out, at which they all laughed.

      By now the volume of sound had risen considerably, with the arrival of the friends with the hi-fi equipment.

      It was a good thing, Lauren thought a few hours later, her ears tiring of the music, her muscles weary from the dancing, that Marie’s uncle’s house stood surrounded by its own grounds, well away from its neighbours. Otherwise, she reflected, complaints would have arrived by the dozen via the telephone, and maybe even in the form of remonstrating policemen on the doorstep.

      The living room windows had been flung wide, the doors to the garden likewise. The long, undrawn brown velvet curtains billowed in the breeze, while the spotlights on the patio illuminated the surrounding shrubbery.

      ‘Want to share?’ A young man who had introduced himself as Casey Talbert offered his overflowing plate to Lauren.

      She shook her head and wondered how soon she could slip upstairs to her room. She wondered also how she could put a distance between herself and this persistent guest called Casey. For most of the evening he had followed her about.

      The music had grown louder, the beat more insistent. Casey, seemingly unable to resist its call, put aside his plate and pulled Lauren into the midst of the twisting, whirling crowd.

      She looked around for Marie, hoping to be able to break free of Casey and explain to her that she was tired and was going to bed, but there was no sign of her. Nor could she see Reggie anywhere.

      ‘If you’re looking for our host and hostess,’ Casey shouted over the din, inventing his own arms-and-legs mode of dancing, ‘I saw them get into Reggie’s car.’

      ‘Gone for more supplies, probably,’ a girl beside him hazarded.

      The telephone shrilled demandingly over the music and the laughter.

      ‘Hi, Lauren.’ Marie’s voice came brightly through the receiver. ‘Find a chair. This might come as a shock. We’re on our way to the coast.’

      ‘Wh-why?’ Lauren stuttered. ‘I mean…supplies—you were going to get more s-supplies, or so I heard.’

      ‘Just a red herring, Lauren.’ Marie sounded apologetic now. ‘We thought we’d make our getaway while the party was in full swing, without waiting for the morning. Say goodbye to everyone, will you? And barrowloads of thanks for their prezzies.’

      ‘But all your things—’ was all Lauren could get out.

      ‘Packed them secretly this afternoon in the hired van, after Reggie unloaded yours. Sorry it was so sudden, Lauren, but, as I said, we thought we’d make a dash before—’

      ‘Before I changed my mind?’ Lauren retorted, but with a smile in her voice.

      ‘We—ell, maybe. We’re crossing in the morning to house-hunt. Giving ourselves a day or two free before Reggie’s job starts.’

      ‘So this is it,’ Lauren said. ‘From now on I take responsibility for your Uncle Redmund’s house?’

      ‘Until we get back, yep,’ Marie replied brightly.

      ‘Which is-?’

      ‘Can’t really say—’ Marie began, then Reggie took over.

      ‘Sorry, Lauren, to drop you m it like this, but I— we—were desperate. If you’d decided in the end to say no—’

      Lauren sighed loudly. ‘OK, so I was set up. But as it was by my best friend, and my best friend’s fiancé, I guess I’ll have to count my blessings. I’ve got a job. I’ve got a roof—and what a roof!—over my head. I can’t really grumble, can I?’

      She smiled at the prolonged sigh of relief from the other end.

      ‘By the way, before I go,’ Marie added, ‘a word of warning about Casey Talbert. He might have been playing the complete idiot this evening, but he’s no fool. He can’t be, otherwise he couldn’t hold down his job as a reporter on the local paper. He graduated from his journalists’ course a few months ago, and as you can probably imagine he’s panting to make his mark as an ace reporter His nose is very firmly to the ground, Lauren, whether it’s clean down there, or not—if you get my meaning?’

      ‘I get it,’ Lauren answered.

      ‘Good. Thought I’d better warn you. Cheers. We’ll be in touch,’ Marie declared, just before the phone went dead.

      A high-pitched scream came from the direction of one of the windows. Hand shaking a little, Lauren went to pick up the phone again, then realised she had no number on which to call Marie back.

      ‘There’s a man in the garden,’ a young woman shrieked. ‘No, he’s not one of us,’ she shouted, contradicting someone’s suggestion. ‘He’s acting strange. Oh, no, he’s coming this way.’ She screamed again. ‘He might have a gun!’

      ‘She’s been watching too many films,’ Casey said, then joined the general lurch towards the patio doors, pulling Lauren with him. ‘Can’t miss this.’

      They were pushed by the crush through the doors, white garden table and chairs being overturned on the way, and Lauren emerged dishevelled and breathless to see the dark shape of a man standing, hands on hips, at the edge of the paving stones.

      ‘Everyone take cover!’ someone shouted, screams following his command. ‘For Pete’s sake, where’s Marie? Where’s Reggie? Can’t they get rid of the guy?’

      ‘They’ve gone!’ Lauren cried. ‘To France.’

      ‘You must be joking,’ was the strangled answer from the depths of the crowd.

      Lauren had been pulled into a crouching position beside Casey, who in turn was crouching behind the toppled table, but, like a soldier in a war zone, he kept his eager eyes just above the parapet

      It came to her with some force that as she had now become the official house-sitter it was for her to take the lead and remonstrate with the interloper, persuade him to go on his way.

      She tugged her hand from Casey’s.

      ‘Where are you going?’ he croaked.

      ‘To get rid of the gatecrasher.’ She stood up and picked her way through cowering bodies. A gasp went up at her audacity, her foolhardy bravery.

      ‘He