A Bad Enemy (7 page)

'You have to be patient.' Lisle seated herself beside the bed, and clasped his hand.

'Hm,' he grunted. 'At my age, I can't afford patience.' He gave her one of his gimlet glances. 'Have you settled your wedding day yet?'

She tensed incredulously, then forced herself to give a little laugh. '
Darling
, we—we've only just met! You have to give us a chance—well, to get to know each other a little.'

'I want the date settled,' Murray said flatly. 'It will give me something to look forward to—something to aim for.'

Lisle seized the opportunity. 'Gerard's flying home today.'

'Obliging of him,' her grandfather growled. 'Where the devil's he been anyway?'

'Just—staying with friends abroad.' Lisle studiously avoided the satirical look. Jake sent her. 'He can't wait to see you.'

Murray muttered something inaudible and relapsed into silence, but he didn't look particularly pleased, and Lisle's heart sank as she watched him covertly from beneath her lashes. She began to chat about trivialities, relating incidents that had occurred over the past few weeks which might amuse him. He smiled and interjected the occasional comment, but she knew him well enough to realise that his mind was really elsewhere, and she wasn't really surprised when he dispatched her to Sister's office with an abrupt request to find out when he would be allowed home.

It was obvious that he wanted a private word with Jake, and it galled her not to know what was being said, to know that a man who was a comparative stranger to them all was receiving Murray's confidences instead of his own family.

His repressive attitude towards Gerard had alarmed her too. She hadn't realised how far the relationship between them must have deteriorated, although the very fact of his secret negotiations with Jake Allard should have been sufficient warning, she was forced to acknowledge.

If he had been satisfied with Gerard, had intended him ultimately to succeed him as chairman of the company, then they would never have taken place, she knew.

She wondered if Gerard realised the depths of Murray's disillusionment with him, and whether, when he did arrive, he would be able to recoup any of the ground he had lost.

Or even if Jake would allow that to happen, she thought ruefully. Family disloyalty was abhorrent to her, but she had to admit that Jake would have the edge over Gerard every time if it came to an open battle between them as seemed likely. He was hard, determined and already successful, and it was sheer bad luck that it was Murray Bannerman's help and advice which had started him on the road to that success.

Gerard, she thought wistfully, had had exactly the same advantages. Why hadn't he achieved as much?

Day Sister was an older woman, and rather more reserved. She heard Lisle out in a forbidding silence, and said merely that Mr Bannerman would be undergoing more tests and continuing to receive treatment for his condition. There was no possibility of his leaving hospital at the moment, and she hoped Miss Bannerman would be able to convince him of this, and not permit his current treatment to be undermined by useless fretting.

'He is in the best place, and receiving the best of attention,' Sister added austerely, folding her lips, and reaching for one of the files on her desk so as to signify that the interview was at an end.

Lisle walked slowly back to Murray's room. Jake came to meet her.

'The specialist's on his way, and we're clearly
de trop
, so I told him we'd be back this evening,' he said. 'How did you make out with Sister?'

'Not too well,' she admitted reluctantly, and told him what had transpired.

He smiled faintly. 'Murray said she was a dragon lady. I've just told him to behave himself, if he wants to avoid a lengthy stay here.'

She wondered what else they had discussed, but Jake did not seem prepared to tell her, and she was damned if she was going to ask him. He hardly addressed more than two words to her on the way back to the Priory, and about half an hour later she heard him drive off, and learned from Mrs Peterson that he had gone up to town and wouldn't be back before evening.

Lisle digested this with growing anger. Why hadn't he told her he was planning to go to London? There was nothing to do here but hang round the house all day alone, and she didn't feel inclined to do that. On an impulse, she phoned Harlow Bannerman and asked to be put through to. Oliver Grayson's office.

'Lisle?' He sounded sharply concerned. 'What is it? Is Murray all right?'

'He seems fine,' she returned lightly. 'He thinks if he declares war on the nursing staff, they'll discharge him.'

He laughed, but there was a strained note in his voice. 'That sounds like the Murray of old. We were all—deeply upset—deeply disturbed to hear about him, Lisle. If there's anything I can do, you have only to let me know, my dear.'

She took a breath. 'As a matter of fact there is something, Oliver. I was thinking of getting a train up to do some shopping, and wondered if you'd like to give me lunch?'

'I should be delighted,' he said gallantly, but again she thought she detected a slight reserve in his tone. 'Perhaps if you're shopping, it might be better if we met at the restaurant. Shall we say the Chanticleer at one? I'll get my secretary to book a table.'

'Marvellous,' she approved, smiling. 'It's been ages since we saw each other—or really talked,' she added deliberately.

'So it is.' His voice lightened perceptibly. 'Until one o'clock, then.'

Lisle replaced the receiver thoughtfully. Oliver Grayson had been divorced for several years, and when she had first gone to work at Harlow Bannerman she had been well aware that he fancied her, although she had never been tempted to encourage him particularly. However, she had gone out to dinner with him, and to the theatre on odd occasions, and spent a pleasant evening, and Oliver had never ventured further than a chaste kiss on her cheek which had suited her very well.

She didn't change again, but merely brushed her hair into its usual casual waves on to her shoulders, and added some extra sparkle to her eyes, cheeks and lips.

Oliver was already waiting for her in the small cocktail bar which adjoined the restaurant when she arrived punctually at one. He rose smiling as soon as he saw her.

'Lisle, you look wonderful as ever!' He ushered her solicitously into her seat, and beckoned a waiter. 'What would you like to drink?'

'I think—a dry Martini.' Lisle adjusted her skirt as she sat down, aware of the covert glance Oliver stole at her legs. He was immaculate as ever in his navy blue pinstripe suit, his fair hair beginning to thin at the temples. He was good-looking in a rather pale way, and although he was by no means the 'bloodless cretin' that he was stigmatised by Gerard, Lisle had to admit that he was not a particularly dominating personality.

'Well, how are you, Lisle?' he asked as the drinks were served. 'We don't seem to see a great deal of you these days.'

'I think perhaps I should come in more often,' she said drily, and he looked faintly startled.

'I—I didn't mean that as a criticism, you know. After all, it isn't really my department, and besides…' he stopped abruptly, looking embarrassed.

'Besides, it isn't a real job, but just something which was dreamed up to keep me out of mischief where I could do no harm,' Lisle finished for him, rather wearily. 'I am aware of these things, Oliver.'

He looked embarrassed still. 'I suppose—yes, you must be. Although I'm sure you more than justify whatever salary you're paid.'

'Well, thank you, Oliver,' she said evenly. 'Can I count on your support next week if the question of my future with the company is raised by Mr Allard?'

Oliver, who was helping himself to cashew nuts, nearly choked.

'Or wasn't I supposed to know?' she went on sweetly. 'I'm disappointed in you, Oliver. I thought an old friend would have warned me what was in the wind. As I say, I should come into the office more often.'

Another waiter approached with menus, and Oliver took refuge behind his, murmuring something about 'delicate stage in negotiations' and 'any announcement being premature'. Phrases Lisle seemed to remember from the newspaper stories about Harlow Bannerman being acquired by Allard International only a few weeks earlier.

The Chanticleer was a gourmet eating hole, specialising in chicken dishes as its name suggested, but Lisle ordered a rare fillet steak and a salad, knowing that Oliver would be disconcerted by her choice as he cared deeply about food, and liked to have long discussions with the head waiter and the wine waiter to produce a perfectly balanced meal. Perversely, she wanted to annoy him, and was rewarded by the briefly pained look which crossed his features as he gave the order.

He said, 'Now tell me about Murray. It was a terrible shock to us all, as you can imagine. He seemed so well again—so hopeful.'

'That's an odd word to use.' Lisle raised her eyebrows.

'But appropriate.' Oliver gave a short sigh. 'I'm not sure if you know how things stand with the company, Lisle, but they're not good, and haven't been for some time. We've been up against stiff competition, and we haven't been winning as much of our share of the market as we should have done, and that's worrying even when there isn't a recession, muddying the water, and throwing everything into confusion. Ally our recent performance to severe economic depression, and the sum adds up to disaster. Our research section has come up with the goods, but we need new investment in order to produce them. Allard International is prepared to supply that.'

Lisle smiled tightly. 'He made us an offer we couldn't refuse. I see.' She drank some of her Martini. 'Jake Allard told me you were on his side, but I didn't believe him.'

Oliver looked uncomfortable. 'It's hardly a question of sides, my dear…'

'Isn't it?' She gave him a direct look. 'You worked for my grandfather, Oliver, and for my father. You've always claimed to have loved them both. I thought at least Harlow Bannerman could count on your loyalty.'

He shifted restlessly. 'Loyalty doesn't come into it, Lisle, as I'm trying to make plain to you. It's a simple question of economic expediency. We need Allard International—and Jake Allard too—or we're going to go under.'

And when we're finally absorbed into his empire, what then?' Lisle stared at him. 'Do you want the Bannerman name to disappear? For Murray to live to see everything he's struggled for vanish—down that shark's throat?' she added violently, and Oliver looked shocked.

'My dear girl, I know you're having a wretched time, but you must calm yourself. It isn't the end of the world, believe me. And I'm sure the Bannerman name will be retained in some context at least. Your grandfather was determined about that. After all,' he added with a faint smile, 'he kept his former partner's name, even though Anthony Harlow was only with the company for a few years before his death. He's got some scheme to keep the Bannerman name alive, I know that, and I'm sure Jake Allard will agree to it. It's a fine name, and there's a lot of goodwill attached to it, after all.'

'Yes.' Her fingers played with the stem of her glass, thinking of the exact method her grandfather had chosen to perpetuate the family name in the company. She said with a small grimace, 'Oliver, I'm so scared.'

It was the truth, although she would probably have said it anyway. She had arranged this lunch, intending to try and win Oliver over away from his new-found allegiance to Jake Allard, to try and obtain, although she wasn't sure how, some kind of breathing space for Gerard to re-establish himself as his grandfather's heir, to try and beat Jake Allard at his own game.

It had seemed a reasonable notion back at the Priory, where there were all the memories of the previous night to torment her, and give shape and purpose to her anger. But here in London, in the bright cold light of day, the idea of flirting with Oliver in order to thwart Jake Allard in some way she had yet to establish suddenly seemed not quite so harmless. In fact, it could even be positively dangerous, quite apart from the morality of it.

Jake's raw condemnation of her had made her very angry, because she knew that basically she was innocent, and had not been given a chance to speak in her own defence. And there was no real reason why his arrogant and twisted opinion of her should matter to her anyway. Yet to deliberately set out to entice Oliver Grayson into forming some kind of alliance against Allard International was in some way to traverse the abyss she had always prided herself on avoiding.

Oliver was a gentleman, but he was also a man of the world, and she had no reason to believe he'd been leading a celibate life since his divorce, and if she was going to win him it wouldn't be with the promise of continuing kisses on the cheek, she thought miserably.

Of course, he might ask her to marry him. She had half expected it at one time, but guessed he had been deterred by the fact that he was twenty years older than herself, and that Murray Bannerman had old-fashioned ideas about divorce and re-marriage.

'My poor love!' His voice was full of concern. His hand covered one of hers and his arm slid along the back of the velvet banquette they were occupying. Lisle allowed herself to relax slightly against him, but not sufficiently to embarrass him in public, while she thought clinically about being married to Oliver. His touch was certainly comforting, but it awoke no secret fires deep within her. She tried to imagine a situation where she would welcome Oliver's hands on hers without the excuse of comfort, and failed. 'What are you scared of?'

'Jake Allard,' she said with a small crooked smile. 'What else?'

'But he can't harm you, and anyway, why should he want to?' Oliver said soothingly. 'You're Murray's granddaughter. You have nothing to fear.'

She could see his point. Since birth, she had been cushioned against the realities of life by money and security and unquestioning affection. And that same affection would see to it that she was well provided for when her grandfather was no longer there to care for her.

'No, I suppose I haven't,' she said. 'Yet there was a story I always hated when I was a child—the one about the Three Little Pigs. I have this—obsession that Jake Allard is going to huff and puff and blow my house down.' She laughed. 'Ridiculous, isn't it?'