A Real Engagement. Marjorie Lewty

But at last he came back on to the terrace and sank into his chair.

      ‘Well?’ she asked impatiently.

      ‘Not very satisfactory,’ he said. ‘The three lots of solicitors are all trying to trace what happened about twenty years ago, and it seems that until Charles comes back there is no way they can finalise anything. He is not expected for several more days, and apparently he’s gone to ground in America and can’t be contacted. So,’ he said, summing up, ‘it seems that we have to wait until he arrives.’ He hesitated. ‘I’ve been thinking—how would you like to move to a hotel until things are straightened out? Mon Abri isn’t fit to live in at present.’

      ‘I shouldn’t like it at all,’ Josie said flatly.

      He nodded. ‘Somehow I didn’t think you would. Well, here’s another idea. I took a fortnight off to come down here and get my builders started, but I’m happy to treat this next week as a holiday. How about you? Shall we call off the fight about Mon Abri for a week? I intend to make contingency plans for putting the two houses together again. You can help me with ideas, and you might also amuse yourself by thinking up schemes for interior decoration. It might be a waste of effort, if my plans come to nothing, but at least it would be good practice for you. What do you think?’

      Josie was torn between making an angry refusal and a sneaking feeling that what he suggested would be rather wonderful. And he was right. It would be good practice for her to have the opportunity of watching a top architect at work. She smiled to herself. It was funny how you could always find arguments for doing what you wanted to do.

      ‘Well?’ Leon was watching her from lowered lids.

      She sighed. ‘I suppose if I don’t want to be awkward I’d better agree. But it doesn’t mean that I give up my claim to Mon Abri,’ she added.

      He said piously, ‘Oh, I’m sure it doesn’t. Neither do I give up the expectation that it will soon be mine.’

      She looked at him curiously. ‘Why are you so keen to get it? Are you going to lose a fat fee from a rich client if you don’t?’ Perhaps he wanted to bring his wife and family here. Surely he would tell her if that were so.

      He shook his head. ‘No, no rich client involved.’

      ‘You want it for yourself, then, not professionally?’ She looked away, holding her breath.

      She was remembering a time at college, when she had fallen passionately in love with Roger Ward, one of the lecturers. It had never amounted to much on his side—merely an occasional lunch and a kiss that thrilled her when he gave her a lift home in his car—but when he told her he was leaving at the end of term—the next week—she had had wild hopes that he would write to her and ask her to meet him. Then she had heard on the grapevine that he was married, and she had suffered all the agony of heartbreak, although she had had to realise in the end that she had built it all up from her own dreams. But the pain had been real enough, and she wouldn’t like to repeat the experience. And now she had to commit herself to spending the next week in the company of a man who had already stirred feelings that were certainly not made up from foolish dreams.

      Leon answered her question. ‘Well, for my family.’

      His family! No explicit mention of a wife. But she had to know. ‘Are you married?’ she said.

      ‘Married! Good Lord, no. My numerous family is quite enough to cope with, without a wife to complicate things.’

      She felt a curious lightness, and a laugh bubbled up as she said, ‘I see. So that’s why you want a large house?’

      ‘Exactly,’ he said, but there was no answering laugh, not even a smile. He wasn’t going to talk about his family but that didn’t matter. Her most important fear had been laid to rest.

      ‘As a matter of fact, I know both houses quite well. I stayed here some years ago. There was an English family living here then. Delightful people called Martin. I sprained my ankle walking up in the hills near Gorbio, just the other side of Menton. They found me and very kindly brought me back here and looked after me for a couple of weeks. They had a small daughter of about eight or nine, and a married son living in Mon Abri. I saw them often during my holidays here, but we lost touch about eight years ago. I must try to find out where they are and if they are still in France.

      ‘So you see,’ Leon went on, ‘when Charles told me he was selling the two houses I knew it was just what I’d been looking for and began to plan how I would put them together. Perhaps you may forgive me for greeting you with—er—rather less than courtesy at our first meeting.’ He gave Josie a hopeful smile.

      She made no response and turned her head away from him. She hadn’t forgiven him yet; it was something she needed to remember as a sort of armour against him now he was choosing to show her a dif- ferent side of his character.

      ‘No? Well, never mind, we’ll put all that behind us and be friends for just one week. Friends for a week, Josie?’

      His grip was strong, and he held her hand much longer than was necessary. ‘Good,’ he said warmly. She wished she could believe that he liked her, which was what his smile told her. But she had to be careful. She looked into his grey eyes and reminded herself that they could change to narrow steel blades that could cut with sarcasm or bitter contempt.

      Leon stood up. ‘If you’re going to stay in Mon Abri it will need some attention,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and have a look at it.’ He took her hand and they walked across the terrace together. Inside the sitting-room, he stared at the crack in the ceiling. ‘It might merely be a faulty joint,’ he said. ‘If so, I could probably fix it myself. There’s a ladder in the outhouse next door; I’ll go and fetch it.’

      Josie’s heart missed a beat as she had a horrible vision of Leon falling and lying senseless beside her. She put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘Oh, no, you won’t,’ she said firmly. ‘I refuse to let you climb a ladder and open up that wound in your hand again. It’s “enlightened self-interest”, to use your own words. What would happen if you “came over all peculiar” at the top of the ladder? I can deal with a cut hand but not a broken leg.’