Dishonest woman Page 2

  Six months later, after an illness that had brought him pain and grieved her to see how each new day brought a further worsening in him, her father had died.

  Kimberley got up the next morning after her visit to the solicitor, her mind still in turmoil that in a little over five months she was to lose Bramcote to some obscure charity her father must have pulled out of the hat, for she had never heard of it.

  Without enthusiasm she set about her chores, knowing the day had to be filled somehow. She didn't want company, but she happened to glance out of the window and saw Dr Ellis coming up the path.

  He had been kind to her, she thought as she pushed an escaping strand of silky hair back into the knot in which she wore it. He had lightly kissed her cheek as a sort of condolence on the day of the funeral. He had wanted to be kind to her that day, she knew, when he bad suggested she call him by his first name.

  There was nothing wrong in calling him by his first name, she thought fleetingly as she went to the door to let him in. He couldn't be much more than ten years Older than her twenty years. But as she had known

  him as Dr Ellis since he had taken over the village practice a year previously, his Christian name didn't roll easily off her tongue.

  `Good morning, Dr Ellis,' she said, opening the door.

  `Colin,' he said. And, comfortable with her first name, even when she didn't comply and use his, 'How are you, Kimberley?'

  `Fine, thanks,' she said, and, remembering his kindness to her father, 'Have you time for a coffee?'

  He followed her into the kitchen, but it didn't annoy her even though she had been meaning to deposit him in the living room. Very little annoyed her these days— nothing seemed worth getting stewed up over. The only thing important to her now was her beautiful ramcote, she thought wistfully, and she was soon to lose it. It would be like losing her lifeline.

  `I expect you're as busy as ever,' she remarked when they were sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee.

  `If I say no then ten to one there'll be an outbreak of 'flu in the village,' Colin Ellis smiled, his experienced eyes noting the dark shadows under her eyes. 'How are you sleeping?'

  Kimberley shrugged. 'All right,' she lied, beginning to regret her offer of coffee if he was going to turn this brief break in his busy morning into a discussion on her health, although that must be his reason for calling.

  `You're still taking the tablets I gave you?'

  She held back on the lie that would have been easier, and an innate honesty in her had her answering, 'When I feel the need for one.'

  Dr Ellis didn't take her to task, not that she knew if it would have bothered her if he had. Though he did press, 'You still have a supply?'

  She nodded, searching her mind for something to get him off the subject. She looked out of the window and saw it was another sunny day. 'Do you think it

  will last? The Indian summer, I mean.'

  `You should get out more.'

  Kimberley sighed. 'I might sit out in the garden this afternoon.'

  `You don't think you should socialise a little?' he suggested.

  `My father has only been dead two weeks,' she replied flatly, no anger in her statement.

  `I know,' he said sympathetically. 'And you nursed him without sparing yourself. But it's over now, Kimberley. You've earned the right to begin enjoying life again.'

  Kimberley wanted to be alone. She had had enough company for one day. She left her chair, taking her cup and placing it on the draining board, wishing she had left her remark about Colin Ellis being busy until now. Maybe he would have taken it for a hint.

  He stood up. 'Are you going to Doreen Gilbert's birthday party?' he enquired, coming to stand near her.

  Her innate honesty was discarded without conscience. 'I might,' she lied. It was easier to lie, She had no intention of going.

  `I shall look forward to seeing you there,' he said.

  Kimberley moved from the draining board to go and collect his cup. 'Yes,' she said, and was glad when he went.

  She dismissed him and the party from her mind when he had gone. Then after rinsing the coffee cups, she did go into the garden, thoughts of her father, his will, and David filling her mind.

  She thought constantly of all three in the week that followed, and found her face wet with tears many times. She cried easily these days, she thought, and sought hard to find some stiffening in her that would have her back to the laughing girl she had been twelve months ago. But that only led back to thoughts of David. He had been her world then, and more tears

  started. She no longer had David, no longer had her father, and soon—soon she would no longer have Bramcote.

  It was on the Friday of Doreen Gilbert's party when, since the sun was still miraculously shining, Kimberley was tidying up the garden, when she heard the garden gate open. She turned her head, then straightened and stood passively watching as she recognised Doreen herself coming up the garden path, that 'I won't take no for an answer' look in her eye she had seen- there when in the past she had gone round the village with her collecting for some good cause or other.

  `Garden looks nice,' Doreen remarked.

  `It's a full-time job,' Kimberley fenced warily.

  `I could send my gardener over to give you a hand,' Doreen offered with her natural warm generosity.

  `I like doing it—thanks just the same, though, Doreen.' And because Doreen wasn't moving, and because she liked her, 'Fancy a cup of tea?'

  `Thought you'd never ask,' was the grinning reply.

  It was over a cup of tea that Doreen came to the point of her visit. 'Got your dress pressed for tonight?' She made it sound like a throwaway question, but Kimberley knew her too well to be taken in.

  She took a deep breath, wishing she would leave her to lead her life the way she wanted. `I—er—Don't be offended, please, but I . .

  `Don't say you're not coming!' Doreen got in before she could say just that. 'Oh, please, Kim! I've set my heart on you being there.'

  `You'll have crowds of other people there. You won't miss me.'

  `I will,' Doreen insisted. 'I've counted on you being there. Besides . she broke off.

  `Besides what?' Kimberley asked.

  `It will do you good to get out,' Doreen said.

  As Kimberley was about to say she was quite happy staying in, it struck her that Dr Ellis had said much

  I

  the same thing. 'Have you been talking to Dr Ellis?' she asked suspiciously.

  `Can you blame me if I have?' Kimberley saw concern in the grey eyes of her friend. 'We're worried about you, Kim. You're as thin as a stick, no colour in your face.'

  `There's no need . .

  `Please come, Kim,' she was interrupted. 'It will absolutely ruin my holiday if you don't come tonight.'

  `Oh, really!' Kimberley scoffed, thinking, even with Doreen being Doreen, that was going over the top.

  `I mean it, Kim,' she said, and sounded so convincing that Kimberley's sensitivities were pulled.

  Would it matter so very much if she gave up an hour to put in an appearance at the party? Not that she believed she would spoil anyone's holiday if she didn't show. But—but Doreen did look worried about her.

  `Do you never not get your own way?' she grumbled.

  `You'll come?' Delight was beginning to show. `You could charm the birds off the trees,' Kimberley told her.

  But she was already beginning to regret her promise as Doreen Gilbert swung off happily down her garden path.

  Later that evening, having already discarded one dress that hung on her where it had once fined, Kimberley reached in her wardrobe for another, one with a tie belt and loose lines that wouldn't show her thinness up too much. Not that she was so scraggy, she thought without much interest as she surveyed herself in her full-length mirror. She had always had a good bust and still couldn't be mistaken for one of the male sex.

  Who wanted to be fat anyway? she thought, as she dressed her long corn-blonde hair into a more becoming style th
an she usually wore it. And anyway, didn't she have more important things to worry about? Oh,

  how could she bear to give up Bramcote?

  It was half past nine when she set off to walk the half mile to the Gilberts' substantial residence. Since she had no intention of staying longer than an hour, and since Doreen's parties usually went on from eight until all hours, she thought her timing was just about right.

  The sound of beat music met her ears as she walked up the drive, making her want to turn tail and return to her quiet haven. But remembering the promise Doreen had extracted from her, she made herself go forward. The assortment of cars on the drive, from bangers to Bentleys, told her the Gilberts' guests would be dressed in anything from jeans to dinner jackets, and that she need not have bothered what she wore.

  A manservant let her in, smiling when he saw who it was. 'May I say how pleased I am to see you, Miss Adams,' he said, which she thought was sweet of him.

  `It's a thrash in there, is it, George?' she asked, knowing from a discussion she had had with him ages ago that the din blaring out fell painfully on his musical ear.

  `I think everyone is having a good time,' he said diplomatically, a shade pompously, so that Kimberley came near to smiling.

  `Kim, you made it!' Doreen came hurrying up to her.

  `Happy birthday,' said Kimberley. 'I forgot this afternoon.'

  Doreen shrugged it away, saying, 'I was just about to send a search party for you. But you did promise.' They were moving towards the drawing room, the music temporarily suspended while someone changed the tape, though the room was still lively from a healthy buzz of many conversations.

  `I'll get you a drink, then introduce you round to anyone you don't know,' said Doreen, and was off

  before Kimberley could tell her she wasn't fussed about a drink or meeting anyone.

  As she was on the point of giving herself a lecture, that she must make some effort seeing she had accepted the invitation at all, her eyes flicked round the room, without difficulty being able to file away which were Doreen's friends and which were the friends of her banker husband. The tubby, bald-headed man with his well cut suit had to be a banker, she thought. Her eyes lighted on Doreen, who had been held up in conversation with an arty type of about the same age as herself in check shirt and jeans.

  She had just recognised someone from the village whom she knew, her eyes searching to see if Dr Ellis had arrived, when a tall man somewhere in his mid-thirties strolled in through the open balcony doors. Idly he glanced her way, then his look rested on her, and he stopped dead, his glance fixed.

  Kimberley looked away, having registered in her own glance that his fine black sweater suited his broad shoulders, his athletic-looking physique telling her he never sat behind a desk all day. She dubbed the fair-haired man as one of Doreen's friends, and was then ready to forget him.

  Only it wasn't that easy. 'We haven't been introduced,' said a deep-toned, totally masculine voice to the side of her.

  Kimberley half turned, and looked up. It was the fair-haired man, who had just come in from the balcony. Probably he had been out there to cool off after dancing—or for some other reason, she thought, a painful memory digging into her of herself and David going out on to that same balcony because they had wanted to be alone.

  No—we haven't,' she said, her voice cool as she tried to surmount the pain of her thoughts.

  `Slade Darville,' he introduced himself, his eyes narrowing at her coolness.

  She wanted to be by herself; she wished he would go away. 'Kimberley Adams,' she replied, and while his hand came up to shake hands, 'Excuse me,' she said abruptly, and turned, not wanting him or anyone else to see she was battling against tears that never again would she go on that balcony with David.

  She had herself under control by the time she had found Doreen, the idea in her mind to invent some excuse for going home. She had been rude to that man Slade whatever he called himself, and should stay around if only to apologise, but—oh, what the hell? He looked the type who could take a snub without breaking out into spots. Though, as a faint memory teased her of the narrow-eyed scrutiny he had favoured her with—he just wasn't used to anyone snubbing him, she felt she knew that for a fact.

  `Here you are,' said Doreen, raising her voice slightly, since the music had started up again. 'Sorry I was so long—you know how it is.'

  Kimberley took the glass she offered, realising she would have to make some pretence of drinking some of it at least before she made her departure.

  `Now,' said Doreen, her voice back to normal since someone had turned the sound down to more bearable proportions, 'let's see, who would you like to meet first?'

  Kimberley tried to show interest and glanced about, her eyes taking in the floor where she observed that the man she had snubbed hadn't been mortally wounded, if the way he was getting on with the redhead he was dancing with was anything to go by.

  `Oh no,' said Doreen, her gaze following Kimberley's and seeing where her gaze had rested. `Definitely not Slade Darville. He's not in your league, love.'

  'My league?' Kimberley queried.

  `He eats little girls like you for breakfast.'

  `Big bad wolf?'

  `More—rake first class, with gold stars,' said Doreen—though she wasn't above sending a smile his way when the subject of their conversation chose just that moment to look away from his partner and straight at them, just as though he knew they were there and were talking about him. His glance fell away as his partner, seeing she didn't have his undivided attention, said something to draw his attention back to herself.

  `There's no need for you to introduce him,' Kimberley said, a spark of mischief stirring itself for the first time in many a long day. And at the question in Doreen's eyes, 'He introduced himself.'

  `Well, thank God he didn't follow it up,' said Doreen. 'You'd never be able to handle him if he felt like chasing you, love.'

  Kimberley didn't think, much as her friend was warning her off Slade Darville, that she would appreciate it if she told her she had snubbed one of the guests in her house.

  `You're saying I might find myself in deep water?' She didn't know why she asked the question. The subject had been as good as finished with. She certainly wasn't interested in him. She wasn't interested in any man—only David.

  Doreen looked at her as though she too was surprised at her question, as though the last man she wanted her to show an interest in was the fair-haired man.

  `Leave him strictly alone,' she advised.

  `Why?' Kimberley found herself persisting. For although he had a certain air about him, a certain indefinable something, strictly speaking he wasn't all that good-looking. Now David . . .

  `Because,' said Doreen, watching, as was Kimberley, the way when the dance tune finished, Slade Darville somehow extricated himself from the redhead, and now had a most attractive brunette in his arms, 'Because, that's why. He's strictly a pick-them-up-and-then drop-them type. Even marriage wouldn't hold him. Now if you want to get involved with someone . .

  `I don't,' said Kimberley sharply. Then, afraid her tone might have caused offence, she said, just for something to say to be friends again, 'Is he married?'

  `No, never has been,' said Doreen, unoffended. `Prefers to play the field, does our Slade.' She laughed lightly as a thought occurred to her. 'Though I'd like to bet if anyone was ever cute enough to catch him in a weak moment and did manage to get him to the altar, it wouldn't last after the first flush of romance had gone.' Kimberley heard the definite note of conviction in her voice as she went on, 'Once he realised what he'd done, I've no doubt at all he'd be off to his lawyers tout de suite getting the quickest divorce on record!'

  So he didn't want to be married either, Kimberley thought, getting bored with him as a conversation piece, though if David . . . She snatched her mind away from David, wondering if that wound would ever heal. Then from nowhere something akin to excitement, dormant for so long she was barely able to recognise it as such
, began to stir in her. She didn't want to marry unless it was David, and yet if she didn't want to lose Bramcote, according to her father's will, she had to be married in just over five months' time. Slade Darville must have felt some small pull of attraction towards her, or why else had he come up and introduced himself?

  She looked towards the dancing area, some semblance of an idea trying to force itself on her. She couldn't see the man she was looking for. Probably out on the balcony with that brunette, she thought, not allowing thoughts of David that wanted to intrude come in this time.

  `Er—you're sure he would apply for a divorce, once he'd realised he'd tied himself up to one specific female?' she asked casually, the idea in her head already dimming since she wasn't the type to go chasing after a man, and after her snub, he would have to be really interested—if only briefly, as Doreen had suggested

  was his habit—to risk another.

  `I'd lay a month's housekeeping on it,' said Doreen without hesitation.

  Kimberley thought it definitely was time to change the conversation. 'Dr Ellis said he was coming, but I haven't seen him.'

  `Haven't you heard? There's some nasty tummy bug going round the village,' Doreen informed her. 'Poor Colin, he's helping out at another practice too because of staffing difficulties. He'll be run off his feet, poor lamb. Thank goodness Edward and I are going away. With luck, we'll miss the tummy bug.'

  Doreen seemed quite content to stay chatting with her. But Kimberley was starting to get a conscience about hogging her hostess's company for so long, and said so. But Doreen would not move on until she was doubly assured by her that there was no need for her to introduce her to anyone, and that she would be quite all right on her own.

  Kimberley stayed where she was after her hostess had gone. Glancing round the room, she decided to give it only a few more minutes and then go home. Slade Darville was still nowhere to be seen, and she designated the ridiculous idea that had come to her about him to the rubbish basket. He was probably much more interested in the brunette he had been with than he would ever be in her any way, she thought, wondering why once wasn't enough. Hadn't David shown her she wasn't woman enough to sustain a man's interest for very long? Three months was as long as their engagement had lasted.