The Girl From Over the Sea (10 page)

The young man said abruptly,
‘
I must go. I promised I
’
d join them. See you.
’
He gave her a quick smile, a half salute and left her. Lesley
’
s eyes followed him thoughtfully as he went down the cliff path. She would make a guess that he hadn
’
t been invited to join the two on the beach.

So he was Dominic Trevendone. Lesley decided that she liked him. He was young and gay and attractive. A pity
—
for him—that he was so interested in Sorrel Lang. But one couldn
’
t be surprised. The Cornish girl was so vital, so vivid, like a dark red rose, that Lesley couldn
’
t imagine any man not being attracted. But it was Blake Defontaine whom Sorrel loved. Lesley, remembering the look she had given him, felt pretty sure of that.

There didn
’
t seem any way into the garden here, so she retraced her steps and went through the gate following the path which led through the orchard and the kitchen garden to the courtyard at the front of the house. To her relief she couldn
’
t hear Dingo whining. If she had she couldn
’
t have borne to pass by and leave him. Perhaps he was asleep.

Had Dominic Trevendone guessed who she was? She felt almost sure he had. Perhaps if their conversation hadn
’
t turned to Sorrel and Blake Defontaine he might have decided to give her his name and challenge her about hers. But once Sorrel had been mentioned, once he had seen the two riders on the beach, he hadn
’
t had a thought for anyone else.

Lesley went into the great hall, pausing to smooth her hair. As she did so,
Mrs.
Piper came through from the kitchen carrying a tea tray for
Mrs.
Trevendone and her companion.
‘
Your tray is ready, miss, if you
’
ll
w
ait to carry it up,
’
she said pleasantly. She came out of the small drawing room a minute or t
w
o later and smiled when she saw Lesley standing in front of a lovely Venetian mirror still smoothing her hair.

‘
I
’
m real glad you
’
m been able to get out for a bit of fresh air, miss,
’
she said, staring admiringly at the girl.
‘
You
’
m got a nice bit of colour in your face. You
’
m been real good to that little sister, nursed her well, you have. But perhaps
you
’
m been a nurse, miss, in that Australy you
’
m come from.
’

Lesley laughed.
‘
No, in Australia I worked in an office.
’

‘
You
’
m were one of they secretaries, I expect.
’

Again Lesley laughed, turning her glowing face to the Cornish woman.
‘
No, I worked in a very small office. I was a clerk doing general duties, receptionist, book-keeper, shorthand-typist.
’

‘
Were you really
?
’
Mrs.
Piper exclaimed admiringly. She bustled away and returned with the tea tray.
‘
That walk
has
put a nice colour in your cheeks. Did you go on the beach?
’

‘
No, I walked on the cliffs
,’
Lesley replied.

I expect
Mr.
Defontaine and young
Mrs.
Lang would be down along training for they
Cumballick Point to Point steeplechases. We
’
re all real set on them keeping the cups they won last
year
.
’

‘
Mrs.
Lang
?
’
Lesley
’
s voice was a query.

‘
Young Miss Sorrel that was. Married and a widow within the year, poor young thing. Not but what she
’
s got over it nicely, I will say. Young Lang was killed motor racing last October, but with no money worries. She be very well off that way. I expect she
’
s waiting for biggest part of year to be out before she weds again
.’

‘
Yes!
’
Lesley turned away, forcing her-voice to an uninterested drawl.
‘
I met
Mr.
Dominic Trevendone this afternoon
.’

‘
Did you now, m
’
dear soul? Un
’
s usually around when they
’
m training. I don
’
t know whether un
’
s riding at Cumballick or not
,’
she added in a voice that sounded as disinterested as Lesley
’
s had. The girl gave her a quick look and
Mrs.
Piper spread her hands and shrugged. Lesley could think what she liked, her expression said.

Lesley went slowly up the shallow treads of the oak staircase. Blake Defontaine and Sorrel weren
’
t married, but the old gardener had said
‘
his lady
’
and that told the tale.

She paused half way to look down at the great hall with its lovely and, she felt sure, valuable furniture, glass and pottery. All along the wide corridor on which their rooms were situated were cabinets and open shelves with silver and porcelain, beautiful pictures. The carpets beneath her feet was thick and soft to her tread and not worn. The whole atmosphere was one of luxury and quiet comfort. No doubt most of these things had been collected in bygone years, but they were being preserved here in an elegant setting. And it all belonged to Ricky.

She set the tray down on a table and opened the door. The twins were laughing and she could see that Rita was sitting up and looking much brighter than she had done for some time.

‘
Tea
,’
she said cheerfully.
‘
Rita darling, you look heaps better. I can see Rick has been entertaining you
.’

‘
I
’
ll say he has!
’
Rita returned with a quick, secretive look at her twin. And then in a changed voice,
‘
Where
’
s Dingo?
’

Lesley put the tray on the table by Rita
’
s bed and looked across at Ricky.
‘
He
’
s tied up
,’
she said briefly.

‘
Tied up!
’
Rita
’
s
voice rose excitably til
l
it was almost
a shriek,
and
Lesley
frowned.
‘
Where?
’

‘
In the gardener
’
s shed
,’
Lesley replied shortly, her eyes Still on Ricky. Under her accusing stare, he began to bluster.

‘
I
told
you
he was
tied up, Les, before you
went out, but
I thought
you
’
d have
the
g
umption to get him
untied.
’

‘
I might have done just that—if I
’
d wanted to risk his getting into further trouble
,’
she said dryly, and then in a reproachful voice,
‘
Ricky, why did you let him go off on his own this morning? I expect you know he was down on the beach, snapping at that man
’
s horse
’
s feet again. It was
he
who had him tied up.
’

‘
I guessed you
’
d been talking to that grotty old Enemy
,’
sneered Rick.
‘
Don
’
t tell me, Les, that he
’
s managed to
frighten
you.
’

‘
No, I
’
m not frightened of him
,’
said Lesley slowly, and wondered if that were really true,
‘
but, Ricky, he is exactly that—our enemy
.’

‘
Our best plan is to tell him to get out of that Lodge place where he
’
s living
,’
Rita put in.
‘
After all, if we own everything around here we must own the Lodge
.’

Lesley began pouring the tea.
‘
I doubt if it will be as simple as that.
’

‘
Why not?
’
the twins asked, speaking together.

Lesley shrugged.
‘
He seems to be very deeply entrenched. There
’
s a lab attached to the Lodge, I gather, and he does experiments there. Incidentally, Rick, he said that if you
’
ll
go down to the Lodge tomorrow morning he
’
ll give you a few tips about training Dingo to come to heel.
’

‘
Will I heck!
’
returned Rick furiously.
‘
I
’
ve no desire for Dingo to be trained. He suits me fine the way he is.
’

Lesley sighed, having expected no other reply.
‘
Maybe he does,
’
she replied dryly,
‘
but this is farming country and Dingo will have to fit in or be destroyed.
’

‘
Les darling, you
do
exaggerate. The Enemy has certainly got
y
ou on the run,
’
taunted Rita.

The older girl heaved another sigh. When the twins were in this mood there was no reasoning with them. But even so she
’
d got to find out what Ricky had been, doing all this week.

‘
Rick, where were you this morning when Dingo was on the rampage?
’
she asked, handing him his cup of tea.

The boy turned away and walked over to the window, holding his cup and saucer. Lesley
’
s eyes followed him and then she turned to Rita who was beginning to look tired.
‘
Drink your tea and then lie back, darling,
’
she said gently.

Rita shrugged,
‘
I
’
m all right,
’
and then in a louder voice,
‘
You
’
d better tell her the whole story, Rick. She
’
ll have to know.
’

Rick came back and sat down on the brocaded chair beside the bed.
‘
If you want the truth, Les,
’
he said with apparent nonchalance,
‘
I
’
ve got a job.
’

This was the last thing that Lesley had expected. Her green eyes widened.
‘
Where? What sort of job?
’
she demanded.

‘
Vocalist with a group at a discotheque in a place called Penpethic Harbour about two miles further down the coast.
’

Something between indignation and despair shook Lesley, but she willed herself to silence. She had hoped so much when he came to
Cornwall
and found himself with a family with long traditions that he would forget this craze of his. He played the guitar well and had a good and, for his build, a remarkably powerful voice. But as Lesley had tried to point out before they left Australia, so had countless other young men.

How stupid she had been not to guess that something like this was happening. His good temper and gaiety at a time when he might have been forgiven for being bored and frustrated, sent out each day on his own because his twin was too ill
to
sit up and Lesley
too
anxious to get her well again.