So it probably was his house. ‘I did not,’ she said emphatically. ‘If I had done I wouldn’t have phoned and I certainly wouldn’t have turned up. I know you wouldn’t offer me a job after you threw me out for being a danger to junior clerks. By the way, whatever happened to what’s-his-name?’ She remembered Tony’s name but she drawled that instead, acting blase, as if the whole thing were hazy in her memory.
Marc Hammond said, ‘He’s doing nicely, thank you. You might have done him a favour. I doubt if he’s ever been in a fight over a girl since. You don’t seem to have changed much. Still very much the firecracker.’
Even if she had wanted the job she would have blown it by now, but she said, ‘You’re not going to believe this but I can’t remember the last time I lost my head, until this afternoon. It was quite a shock seeing you sitting there and realising what sort of treatment I’d let myself in for.’
He agreed, ‘It was a shock.’ He wasn’t holding her now but he hadn’t moved away. He was still too close for comfort, sending shock waves rippling up and down her spine. She picked up the book and told him, ‘Mrs Myson asked me to fetch this for her. What did you think I was doing—rifling the drawers to see what I could find?’
‘Something like that, from the speed you took off.’
She had panicked but she couldn’t say, I was trying to get away from you because you scare me. She said, ‘You grabbed me; I hate being manhandled.’
‘Sorry about that.’ He was not sorry. She could believe that he had never said sorry and meant it in his life.
‘What’s the book?’ he asked, and she held it so that he could read ‘Appointments’. ‘Now, why should she be needing that?’
‘Ask her,’ she snapped.
‘Showing you where she hopes you’ll be accompanying her?’
She gave an exaggerated shrug and he said, ‘She’s stubborn as a mule. She’s found something wrong with everybody so far, so how have you managed to get her demanding you and nobody but you?’
‘We have red hair in common,’ Robin said silkily.
‘What?’
‘She had red hair, didn’t she?’
‘Copper-coloured.’
‘Not like mine?’
‘Not in the least like yours. You could set a house on fire.’
‘Is that a compliment?’
‘Only to an arsonist.’
This was a crazy conversation.
‘And hair isn’t the only fiery thing about you, is it?’ he said, and she shrugged again because there wasn’t much else she could do. There was no point in saying again that today she had been at her fieriest and most stupid. But she had something serious to say before she went.
‘You should make her have a driver because she shouldn’t be driving herself. I was in a car just behind her a couple of weeks ago, coming out of the old airfield from the market, and you know how busy that road is at weekends, and she shot straight out into the traffic like a bat out of hell. I’ve seen her have near-misses more than once; she’s heading for a serious pile-up.’
She thought his skin whitened under the tan as if she had struck a nerve, or a memory. Then he said, ‘You’ve got a licence, of course?’
‘Of course.’ Was he considering her?
‘I’d want to see it.’
‘Of course.’ It was a clean licence and that would surprise him.
‘At least there’d be somebody around who could use a phone if she needed help.’
‘I think I could manage that,’ she drawled. She had forgotten she didn’t want the job. Maybelle was a danger on the roads and Robin would never forgive herself if the old lady had an accident that she might have prevented. And she liked Maybelle; being her companion-driver could be fun.
Being around Marc Hammond would be far from funny, but when he said, ‘Come on,’ and led the way upstairs she followed.
Maybelle was still sitting on the sofa with her feet up. She seemed pleased when Robin and Marc walked in together, as if this had to mean they were getting along. Robin wondered what would happen if she told Maybelle, We nearly came to blows just now. My wrist could be bruised and I was halfway through a swing to sock him across the face.
If she had hit him Marc Hammond would probably have thrown her out of the house bodily, as he had chucked out Jack the biker three years ago. He might look like the well-bred gentleman—expensively dressed, impeccably groomed—but Robin was convinced that he could turn in a flash into the toughest street fighter she had ever encountered.
‘Thank you, dear.’ Maybelle took the appointments book from her as Marc Hammond seated himself in a winged easy chair, his long body stretched out, strong hands resting on the arms. Robin sat down again on the little stool. He was relaxed and she tried to give the impression that she was too.
‘Did Robin tell you why I wanted this?’ Maybelle asked him.
‘You tell me,’ he said.
But he had guessed right and as she explained, ‘To show you how useful Robin could be—I’ll be doing a lot of driving,’ he nodded. ‘I think it was meant to be,’ said Maybelle, encouraged. ‘What were the odds against Robin arriving here just when I needed her?’
‘It’s a small town,’ Marc Hammond said drily. ‘The odds against somebody local seeing the “Situations Vacant” in local papers can’t be that high. It’s a slight coincidence that you’ve met before, but hardly fate taking a hand.’
Robin said nothing. Sitting low, fingers linked over her knees, the bracelet gleaming on her wrist, she waited for what Marc Hammond. was going to say next, because now he was looking at her. ‘Another thing,’ he said. ‘I would prefer this to be a living-in arrangement; how would you feel about that?’
‘That would suit me perfectly.’ She had expected to go from here to call on a friend and ask her for a bed for the night. A living-in job would solve that problem. Even with the prospect of Marc Hammond being under the same roof.
‘When could you start?’ Maybelle was taking this conversation as Marc’s grudging consent and was anxious to get everything settled.
‘Right away,’ said Robin.
‘Today?’ That was fine by Maybelle.
‘Yes,’ said Robin.
‘Where have you been living?’ Marc asked.
He hadn’t thought she would want to live in, on duty twenty-four hours more or less, and her enthusiastic response had increased his misgivings. He noticed that Robin didn’t answer at once.
Her tongue licked her lips as if they were dry and it was Maybelle who said, ‘Robin lives with her aunt and uncle. She has done since she was very young.’
‘And now she wants to leave?’
Why not? Nearly everyone left their childhood home. And Robin said, ‘Well, yes, I think it’s time I did,’ and smiled at Maybelle because she had a sickening feeling that if she met Marc Hammond’s piercing eyes he would know what had happened this morning—every move, every word. ‘I’m twenty,’ she said. ‘Don’t you think it’s time?’
‘Twenty today,’ said Maybelle. ‘It’s Robin’s birthday, so isn’t this a red-letter day?’
‘There’s another coincidence,’ said Marc. ‘And that, I presume, is a birthday present.’ He meant the bracelet, and he probably thought she had lied about her birthday so that the old lady would