Strange Adventure. Sara Craven

of her best performances. Normally she hated being paraded at the piano after a dinner party like a child with a party piece, and barely tolerated the over-popular classics that she was expected to play. But last night she had acceded to her father’s request and played his favourite Chopin nocturne, a difficult piece which called for all her technical skill and which she had managed to imbue with a fire and imagination she had not realised she possessed. She had not looked at Troy Andreakis to see if he had joined in the applause which greeted her performance, and not long afterwards people began to make their departures and she was able to go to her room, without exchanging another word with him.

      Michelle had given her change of dress a long, glittering look, but she had made no comment, to Lacey’s relief, nor, as she had rather feared, had she come to Lacey’s room to elicit a more complete account of what had passed between Troy Andreakis and herself. However Lacey might feel, Michelle obviously thought that the evening had gone well.

      She wondered miserably how much her father had known about Michelle’s plans, and whether he had sanctioned them. It was unbearably hurtful to think that he might have agreed to her becoming part of some sordid sexual bargain in order to save Vernon–Carey from collapse, and she was sure that only utter desperation would have made him contemplate such a course of action.

      Her rather despondent thoughts occupied her during the brisk ten-minute walk along the lane to the stables on the edge of Kings Winston village.

      By the time a yawning and heavy-eyed Fran had put in an appearance, Lacey had already watered the five horses and three ponies that comprised the stables’ complement, and had the coffee going in the small office next to the tack room. Fran’s eyes widened in surprise and pleasure when she saw Lacey.

      ‘You must be made of steel,’ she commented. ‘I thought you would be having breakfast in bed this morning to build up your strength for your day out with your millionaire.’

      ‘He is not my millionaire.’ Lacey stirred the brimming mugs of coffee with unnecessary vigour. ‘And the day out is cancelled, as of now. I’ve seen quite enough of him already.’

      ‘Ho-hum.’ Fran gave her a wondering look. ‘And does he feel the same about you?’

      ‘I wouldn’t know.’ Lacey shrugged with a negligence she was far from feeling. ‘But I’m afraid if he wants a guide, he’ll simply have to apply to the British Tourist Board. I’m no longer available.’

      ‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Fran said. ‘Actually I wouldn’t mind your help today. I’m going to be busy. Those people from the Bull are coming back at ten, and I have pupils this afternoon as well. Alan was going to try and get down, but it looks as if Domino is going to produce her foal today, so he may be tied up. If you’d like to come out with us this morning I’d be grateful. None of them are beginners, but I’d like to be able to give the children some individual attention, if you’d keep an eye on the adults.’

      Lacey acquiesced willingly. When inquiries were made for her, as she had no doubt they would be, she wanted to be as far away as possible, and a morning spent hacking around the fields and lanes seemed an ideal refuge.

      The next two hours passed swiftly, as the two girls worked together to prepare the animals for the day ahead of them, grooming the horses, attending to their hooves and feeding them. On top of this, each stall had to be scrupulously cleaned out, and the tack that would be used that day looked over and cleaned and polished.

      ‘It’s no good, I’m going to have to look for full time help,’ Fran grumbled cheerfully, as they saddled up the horses ready for the first ride of the day. ‘I can’t rely on my friends and relatives for ever.’

      ‘Have you anyone in mind?’ Lacey slipped a bit into Fern’s mouth, murmuring encouragingly to the mare as she did so.

      ‘Well, I was talking to John Palmer last week and he was saying that his youngest girl Marian is as miserable as sin on this secretarial course she insisted on doing. He seemed to think she’d be only too glad to come home if there was a job of some kind waiting for her. She’s a nice kid, Marian, and a good patient rider.’

      ‘You could certainly do far worse,’ Lacey agreed. ‘I only wish I could help more …’ Her voice tailed away a little forlornly.

      ‘Oh, love! You already do more than I have any right to expect. And even if Marian does come here, you’ll be more than welcome to pop down for a couple of hours whenever you feel like it. But you have a life of your own to live, and I can’t expect to have first call on you all the time.’

      ‘Hm.’ Lacey gave minute attention to the buckle she was fastening. ‘The life of my own you mention doesn’t have any great attraction for me at the moment.’

      ‘My dear girl!’ Fran’s eyes were warm with amusement. ‘What an admission for someone who hasn’t had her eighteenth birthday yet!’

      Lacey sighed. ‘I suppose it does sound rather ridiculous. But I seem to be the only person I know who hasn’t any definite purpose in mind. I have no idea what sort of a career I want—or even if I’ll be allowed to do it when I do decide,’ she finished in a despondent little rush.

      ‘Well, I wouldn’t worry too much, if I were you,’ Fran said bracingly, after a pause. ‘Why not enjoy yourself while you can? You’ve got plenty of time to find a sense of purpose. I don’t believe for a moment that you’re just going to spend the rest of your life mouldering away in Kings Winston, if that’s what you’re afraid of.’

      Lacey allowed herself a brief unhappy smile. ‘I suppose there could be worse fates,’ she said with an attempt at lightness.

      ‘Well, I think so, obviously.’ Fran gave an affectionately proprietorial glance around the whitewashed stable block. ‘But I don’t think it’s the life for you, somehow.’ She gave a hurried glance at her watch. ‘Heavens, we must get on. We’ve only got about fifteen minutes.’

      Lacey was in the office taking a telephone booking for a lesson the following week when she heard Fran call to her. Assuming the party from the Bull had arrived, she made a quick entry in the diary and grabbed a hard hat from one of the pegs before going out into the yard. A car was parked near the archway that led to the road, a low-slung foreign sports model which looked as if it concealed power as well as opulence under its sleek exterior. It looked hardly the sort of conveyance that a family with children staying at the Bull would choose, Lacey thought with faint surprise turning to outright dismay as the driver’s door swung noiselessly open and Troy Andreakis climbed out.

      Bareheaded, a black leather driving coat slung casually over close-fitting dark pants and a polo-necked sweater, he looked tall and formidable in the pale morning sunlight. The deliberately casual attire accentuated his masculinity and brought Lacey an unwelcome picture of their first, unexpected meeting in his room.

      ‘I think the guided tour is on again,’ Fran muttered, ruefully turning down the corners of her mouth as Lacey stood motionless and completely lost for words at her side.

      He strolled forward until he was only a few feet from the girls, then he made Fran a slight bow. ‘Kalimera, thespoinís. I regret I have to deprive you of your—er—stable girl’s services, but she is already promised to me.’

      Lacey gasped at his effrontery. Surely he could not believe she was willing to simply go off with him—like a lamb to the slaughter, after what had passed between them the previous night.

      ‘Oh, it’s quite all right,’ said Fran, a little uncomfortably, avoiding Lacey’s horrified gaze. ‘I expect she forgot. She’s got a terrible memory, haven’t you, love?’