Accidental Engagement (10 page)

‘And?’ he asked.

‘And?’ she countered playfully.

‘And . . . you’re being exasperating,’ he said, as the car pulled into a car park and they got out.

‘I haven’t even started!’ she threw at him over her shoulder as, seized with the lightheartedness that being in Mark’s company gave her, she turned into the forest.

He locked the car and followed her, catching her mood. ‘
When I catch up with you . . . ’
he said laughingly.

‘If,’ she said teasingly, balancing lightly on her toes.

‘
When
,’ he said, his dark eyes dancing wickedly as he quickened his step.

Accepting the challenge she broke into a run. As fleet as a deer she wove through the trees, avoiding low-hanging branches and following a zigzag course. She could hear him behind her but daren’t stop to look round. If she did he would surely catch . . . He was in front of her! He had cut her off!

She feinted, making to run past him but then laughingly broke away again
to one side. With one spring he caught her but she twisted free, only to be caught again more securely as his arms wrapped themselves round her waist
,
leaving her laughing and breathless as he spun her round.

‘Well done,’ he said, his hands coming up to cup her face. ‘But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to escape me.’

‘Who says I want to?’ she murmured as she felt his breath on her lips.

‘Don’t you?’ he teased her, his mouth hovering just above her own.

‘Oh, no,’ she breathed as his mouth closed over hers.

They drew apart, laughing like a pair of conspirators as a child’s voice gave them warning that a party of day trippers was heading their way.

‘Daddy, daddy,’ the child’s voice called, ‘are we there yet?’ And a woman’s voice, in answer, saying, ‘Don’t bother your father, Josh.’ Followed by a man’s peevish voice saying, ‘Leave the kid alone.’

They composed their features as the family walked into view.

‘Come on,’ said Mark, sliding his arm round her shoulder. ‘I want to show you the major oak.’

Anna put her arm around his waist.

‘When I was a boy,’ Mark continued, ‘ I used to think that Major Oak was an army officer.’

‘You didn’t, you fool!’ laughed Anna, leaning against his chest.

His voice was playfully wounded. ‘Cruel. Too cruel! I’m deeply hurt!’

Anna laughed again, enjoying herself.

They walked on through the forest, laughing and joking, and enjoying the
cool, green world they now belonged to. The fully-leaved trees created a welcome umbrella, keeping off the worst of the sun
. A
dim light, coloured green by the leaves, filtered down onto the forest floor. A mass of undergrowth flourished there.

The ground was crossed with way marked walks, but Anna and Mark wandered along their own paths, admiring the glades of silver birch and the stag headed oaks.

‘I wonder what it must have been like, living in the open all those centuries ago,’ she mused.

‘Hard in winter, and probably hard in summer too. They must have spent most of their time hunting and looking for shelter.’

‘Do you believe the old stories, about Robin Hood?’

‘There’s a grain of truth in all the legends. Yes, I believe in him,’ he said.

‘I could almost imagine meeting him here, with his long bow and his merry men.’

No sooner had she said the words than she heard the sound of thudding hooves and Mark said, ‘I can’t promise you Robin Hood, but I can promise you something close to him. I’d forgotten, there’s a festival each summer and it looks like we’ve stumbled across it.’

They followed the sound of the hooves and came out into a large open space, where the middle ages had been re-created. It was as though they had walked through some portal and found themselves back in time. People in medieval costume milled around the glade. Minstrels in green tabards and dark-coloured hose were playing pipes or strumming the lute; jesters in multi-coloured coats, wearing three-pointed hats were juggling or playing the fool; and a variety of “peasants” dressed in loose gowns or simple tunics were watching the merrymaking.

Over to one side large archery targets had been set up, and men and women with quivers on their backs were testing their skills. Anna watched as a tall man, dressed in Lincoln green, fitted an arrow to his bow. He pulled back the string, taking aim down the shaft of the arrow, and then let it fly. There was the sound of rushing air and then a dull thud as the arrow embedded itself in the target, striking the bull’s eye. Both Anna and Mark joined in the applause.

But it was the knights who were the main focus of their attention. Part of the glade had been given over to the re-creation of medieval lists, and a costumed encounter was about to take place. There was the sound of snorting and the dull thud of hooves as two knights, displaying their equestrian skills, wheeled their horses about. Then, still controlling their mounts superbly, they took their lances from their “squires” and balanced the long wooden shafts against themselves, handling the unwieldy weapons as though they had been born to it. Their costumes were magnificent, and looked very authentic.

‘Is that chain mail real?’ asked Anna.

‘I don’t know. It must be very heavy if it is.’

Over the suits of mail the knights wore brightly-coloured surcoats: one was a brilliant red in colour and had a golden lion rampant emblazoned across the front, whilst the other was bright blue. On their heads they wore heavy helmets.

‘Let’s watch.’ Anna led the way to a relatively quiet spot from where they could get a good view. The knights were ready to begin. There was a moment of anticipation, and then the two men charged towards each other. With lances levelled they met in an almighty crash, but neither man unseated the other and both returned to their own ends, ready for another charge. The sound of thudding hooves filled the clearing and this time the red knight scored a direct hit, knocking his opponent from the saddle.

Anna and Mark, caught up in the excitement, cheered his success.

The festivities continued, and it wasn't until much later that they tore themselves away.

‘I know it’s late,’ said Mark, ‘but we can’t go without seeing the oak.’

Anna was happy to go with him in search of the famous tree. It took them
some while to reach it, but it was worth the effort. The tree was huge, and obviously ancient. S
he paused some way away from it.
A
ny closer and she wouldn’t be able to take it all in. Despite its rotting branches, and despite the strong constructions which had been erected around it to give it support, it was still an impressive sight: a living thing that had watched the world turn countless times.

‘The things it must have seen,’ said Anna, thinking of everything that had happened over the centuries whilst the tree had been growing, changing from a tiny acorn into the venerable old tree that stood before them. ‘The rise and fall of empires; the births and deaths of kings and queens; world wars; civil unrest; summers, winters, autumns, springs. It makes me feel very humble.’

Mark pulled her closer and kissed her on the forehead. ‘It gives a sense of permanence, doesn’t it?’ he said.

Permanence? She looked at the huge old tree, which had stood in the same spot for many hundreds of years, and nodded. ‘Yes.’ And that was what she felt with Mark, she thought. A sense of permanence.

A sense which warmed her through.

‘Roger’s here,’ Claire greeted them as they walked in at the door.

‘Roger?’ asked Mark in surprise. ‘What can he want?’

‘I don’t know. Business, I suppose.’

‘It really is too bad,’ said Emmy, as they went into the living room. She was busy working a piece of embroidery which rested on her knee. ‘This week is meant to be a holiday
for
you, Mark. This is the second time you’ve been troubled with business matters. You shouldn’t have to be dealing with them when you’re here.’

‘That’s one of the perils of
success,’ said Mark realistically. ‘Even so, I’m surprised Roger needed to come himself, instead of just sending an e-mail
.
Where is he?’

‘He’s in the library. I tried to get him to wait in here, but he wouldn’t. He said he didn’t want a cup of tea.’

‘Well, I’d better go and see what he wants,’ Mark said, turning to Anna and kissing her lightly on the cheek. Whenever he was away from her kept reminding himself that she was an adventuress, but whenever he was with her he couldn’t help being captivated by her, and to his surprise he found himself resenting Roger’s visit, and resenting the time he would have to spend away from her.

‘You’re the one person I didn’t expect to see here,’ he said as he walked into the library, belatedly realising that it wasn’t a very welcoming opening. He added on a more friendly note, ‘Nothing wrong, I hope?’

Roger laughed. ‘Nothing. At least not with the business. But there seems to be something wrong with you!’

‘Ah! So that’s it!’ Mark was relieved it wasn’t a business call. ‘Then you must have heard about “Annabelle”.’ He settled himself on the edge of the desk, a piece of mahogany furniture which blended in perfectly with the rest of the traditional room.

Roger gave a wry smile. ‘Word gets around.’

‘Courtesy of
Elizabeth
, I suppose.’

‘Some women are born to gossip,’ Roger agreed.

‘And you’ve come to say, “I told you so,”’ smiled Mark. ‘Well, you might as well get it over with. Go right ahead. You were right and I was wrong: deception
is
a dangerous game.’

Roger laughed. ‘The great Mark Raynor admitting he’s wrong. That must be a first.’

Mark gave a wry smile. ‘And a last, I hope.’

‘But what I can’t understand,’ said Roger, ‘is why didn’t you put a stop to it before it had begun? When “Annabelle” turned up on the doorstep, why did you get involved?’

‘And that’s the question that’s brought you all the way from
London
?’

‘I wasn’t in
London
. I had to go to
Sheffield
on business and thought I’d make a detour on the way back. I must admit, I was intrigued. I thought you’d have sent your little impostor packing the moment she set foot over the threshold.’

Mark shrugged. ‘Easier said than done. I’d have had to admit to Emmy and Claire that I’d lied to them, and that wasn’t something I wanted to do.’

‘You could have got her out of the house and had it out with her. Told her you knew what she was up to and warn her off.’

‘That would have been difficult. For one thing, she arrived before me and it wouldn’t have been easy to explain to Emmy and Claire why she had to leave - and that’s assuming she’d have gone along with it. And if she hadn’t, if she’d kicked up a fuss, they’d have soon wanted to know what the trouble was.’

‘So you did nothing.’ Roger’s expression was curious.

‘So I limited her stay,’ said Mark, uneasy with the conversation although it was difficult to know why. Surely he wasn’t feeling loyalty to Anna? More loyalty than he felt to his friend of twenty years?

‘So when is she leaving?’ asked Roger.

Too soon
, thought Mark, the feeling disturbing him. Out loud he said, ‘She’s leaving at the end of the week.’

Roger watched Mark with interest. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing,’ he said. He hesitated, wondering whether to say any more. He’d expected to find Mark incensed by the situation, or at the least disgusted. But he was no such thing. Roger didn’t know how to proceed. In theory, it was none of his business, but twenty years of friendship, and the knowledge that Mark had already been badly hurt, said otherwise. ‘Have you any idea what she’s doing here?’ he asked cautiously.

Mark shrugged. ‘She capitalised on my deception. She thought she could enjoy herself for a while at my expense.’

Roger raised his eyebrows. ‘It seems like a lot of trouble to go to. She could just have found herself a rich boyfriend. Why would she stage an accident if a bit of luxury was all she wanted?’

A question that Mark had begun to ask himself. When he had first met Anna he had been certain she had faked the accident, as he had been certain she had faked her memory loss, but there had been a number of things since then that had not seemed to fit in with that belief: the way she had asked if she wanted him for his money, for example, and her questions about the ring. They could just be the questions of a clever actress who was determined to convince him that her accident had been real, but at rock bottom he didn’t believe it. At first, maybe, but not anymore. Not now that he had come to know her. But he didn’t want to pursue the thought, because if she hadn’t faked the accident, and she hadn’t faked her memory loss, then it meant that, instead of going along with an adventuress in order to spare his family pain he had instead lied to the innocent victim of a car crash, and what did that make him? So instead of answering Roger’s question he made a noncommittal observation. ‘You seem to know a lot about her.’