Rafferty's Legacy (10 page)

Carl's hand caught hers, and he pulled her back close to him before she could comply with this direction. Although it was cowardly, she would have liked to have done just that, but she knew it wouldn't answer; she owed both men too much to take the easy way out.

`Mr .' she began, then hastily corrected herself; she couldn't say `Mr Elton', it would, under the circumstances, sound extremely odd, yet that was how she thought-of him. She started again. 'Carl has been extremely understanding, Uncle,' she said

firmly, 'and I don't see why we have to stand out here and wrangle—surely we can talk in a civilised manner inside the house?'

Her uncle frowned at this, but had no choice but to do as she requested, and with the gesture of a jerked thumb in the direction of the chalet at Carl, he muttered, 'It's up to you, girl. Jist as long as you know what's what.'

Once inside the chalet and in her uncle's shabby sitting-room, Teresa took full note of her ex-fiancé's haughty appraisal of the poorly furnished room, and it aligned her to her uncle's cause with far more determination than any words might have done, particularly when she thought of the luxurious trappings of Sunset Ridge.

'Well?' began her uncle belligerently, as if sensing what Teresa had sensed. 'Take a good look, Mr Elton. We've no fancy trimmings here, but we pay our way. Say what you've a mind to say, and be on your way.'

Carl's hard gaze left him, and softened as it rested on Teresa. 'I want Teresa to see a specialist,' he announced calmly. 'Doctor Turnbull's okay on mundane jobs, but he's no specialist in this field.'

Patrick Rafferty drew himself up stiffly and stared at Carl with fixed intensity. He couldn't, thought Teresa, have looked any more infuriated had his own integrity been called into question. 'Oh, you do, do you?' he fumed. 'And what, might I ask, is it to you? She's in my charge now, and if I say Doctor Turnbull is good enough, then he's good enough. We don't want any fancy doctors turning her inside out. She's okay. You leave her be!'

'I'm sure it suits your book to leave things just as they are,' Carl answered through set lips, 'with a lost memory she can see your point of view, can't she? Well, I'm afraid I don't intend to "leave her be", as you put it. She'll have the best treatment that money can buy, and I'm giving you fair warning, Rafferty, I'll brook no interference—try me and see.'

`So it's threats now, is it?' blazed Uncle Patrick. 'See, girl, what did I tell you? He's not content with throwing you out when he thought he couldn't stomach a Rafferty living at Sunset Ridge. Now it seems he's had second thoughts about it—well, it's too late, Mister Elton,' and turning to Teresa, who was beginning to feel a king-size headache coming on, he said, 'How about it, girl? Weeks it took him to fight off the repugnance that you was a Rafferty; now he wants to take up where you left off.'

Teresa saw Carl's hand clench into fists and knew he was having trouble keeping his distance from her uncle. It wasn't a fair fight, for her uncle was baiting him, and hitting where it hurt most. But she had to admit ruefully that it was all he had to fight with.

'For goodness' sake! ' she said wearily. 'Can't we have a sensible discussion without old scores being brought into the conversation?' She gave her uncle a warning look. 'Carl has been away up north, Uncle, and I'm fully aware of the reason why he took that trip, so don't let us get sidetracked on that issue, please! ' She looked at Carl. 'And to be honest, Carl, I'm afraid I do agree with my uncle. I don't really think it's necessary to have another doctor. I like Doctor Turnbull, and I'm sure that all that can be done is being done.'

Carl's set lips told her he hadn't liked that one bit, and her uncle's malicious snort of triumph must have tried his patience sorely. He gazed at her for a moment or so, then said harshly, 'Very well, if that's how you feel. You'll have no objection, I hope, to my having a word with him on the subject?'

Teresa shook her head a little bewilderedly. She couldn't see the point of it, but if he wanted to do so she saw no reason why he shouldn't.

Her uncle, however, had every reason, and promptly said so. 'What's it to you?' he asked bluntly. 'She ain't having no change of heart, if that's what you're counting on. She'll make the same decision she made before,' he added smugly, making no attempt to hide his satisfaction in rubbing salt in the wound, and Teresa could have slapped him as one slaps a naughty child.

Here it was again, she thought wearily; without realising it, her uncle had confirmed the fact that Carl had not thrown her out, as he had s spitefully stated a few moments ago. So her earlier suspicions had been right. She had chosen to live with her uncle rather than marry Carl, and no matter how conscience-stricken her uncle was unknowingly making her feel, it helped strengthen her resolve.

She rounded on her uncle, who soon lost his air of triumph as her scolding words made their point. 'That was an extremely uncalled-for remark, Uncle, and I've a mind to make you apologise for it. However, I'll forgive you only if you keep the conversation on more reasonable lines. It's very good of Carl to bother about me at all, considering,' she underlined the words, 'that I walked out on him.'

'Had no choice,' muttered her uncle, thoroughly

unrepentantly, but after catching her eyes and seeing the warning they conveyed, he shrugged to show his disapproval of the way things were going and added, 'I guess it ain't no use saying no. It's a free country, after all, if that's what he's a mind to do. I'm jist saying it's better forgot, that's all,' he concluded darkly.

Carl's fair autocratic head inclined at this rather belated climb-down on Patrick Rafferty's part, and having got what he came for, he strode to the door, and held his hand out to Teresa as he reached it. 'Teresa?' he said softly.

Teresa felt torn between the two men, but she was drawn by some compulsion she did not understand to Carl's side. Nodding mutely, she joined him, but did not take his hand as they walked to the front door.

'I'll see you tomorrow,' Carl said firmly, as he opened the door to let himself out. 'I'll pick you up from the office. You finish at twelve, don't you?'

She felt a rush of panic; he didn't intend to give her time to review the situation. If she didn't watch out she could still find herself being swept down the aisle to marry a man she didn't love, or even know. 'Oh, not tomorrow,' she said hastily, 'I've already made plans for tomorrow.' In a sense this was true, for it was Saturday, and Michael was taking her to the dinner-dance at Bathurst.

She felt her wrist caught, and winced as Carl's strong fingers bit into her flesh. 'Michael Oates, I suppose?' he said harshly. 'I might have guessed! He hasn't wasted much time, has he? Egged on, no doubt, by your uncle.'

Teresa gasped indignantly, 'This will be the first time he's taken me out,
and it's not like that at all !
' she added crossly.

`It had better not be! replied Carl savagely. 'I think I'll have a word with Master Oates,' he added darkly.

'Don't you dare !
flashed Teresa, no longer feeling sorry for Carl. Of all the pompous, overbearing males, he took the cake! 'Michael's been very good to me. And,' she added for good measure, 'as my uncle said just now, what right have you to dictate what I should do and shouldn't do?'

She found herself caught in a tight embrace, and being kissed in no uncertain manner. When she was weak and gasping he let her, go, and stood studying her through narrowed eyes. 'That's my right,' he said softly, 'and you're not going to be allowed to forget it. Okay, so tomorrow's out, but don't make any plans for Sunday evening. I'll pick you up at seven.'

Teresa watched him walk to the gate, and her smouldering eyes met his implacable ones as he turned to give her a mocking half-salute before getting into his car and driving off.

Well, she hadn't said, yes, had she? she fumed as she made her way back to the sitting-room. If Michael had plans for Sunday, she would very probably fall in with them! She simply refused to be bullied by Carl Elton, and how she could have ever agreed to marry him in the first place was beyond her understanding.

Her uncle gave her a searching look as she settled down in one of the old armchairs, and fixed brood-

ing eyes on the single bar of the electric fire he had switched on, for the evenings were beginning to get chilly now.

'You're not going soft over him again, are you, girl?' he asked warily.

Teresa's eyebrows rose, and she cast him a look of reproach. 'Of course not,' she replied with a note of surprise in her voice. Then she looked back, frowning, at the glow of the fire. 'What puzzles me is how we ever got together in the first place.' She sighed. 'Of course I don't really know what happened, but I'm sure I couldn't have been myself. He's so overbearing, isn't he? So used to giving orders and expecting everyone to jump to it. I suppose,' she mused, 'that's what comes with having so much money.'

'Sure, that's about the sum of it,' agreed her uncle enthusiastically, and warming to his theme, he added, 'And sure you weren't yourself, girl. Didn't he come across you when you'd just lost your folks? Sure, he caught you on the rebound, that's for certain.' He chuckled, 'He's come a cropper this time, hasn't he?' He shook his head in mock sorrow. 'I never thought I'd find it in my heart to feel sorry for an Elton, but I guess there's a first time for everything. He's over the moon about you, that's for sure, and he ain't the type of man to take kindly to a rebuff. No, sir, this time the tables are turned with a vengeance

Teresa sighed inwardly; he was referring to the feud again. It seemed he couldn't forget it, not even now when it should have been all over with. She recalled what Carl had told her about the Eltons

wanting to end it, but that the Raffertys had decreed otherwise. She looked at her uncle, who was now lost in thought. Perhaps if he'd married and had a family, instead of choosing a solitary existence and brooding on the past, things might have been different. Although, she mused, some folk thrived on past grievances, they were a kind of a lifeline to them, and if the truth was known, they actually enjoyed the verbal skirmishes the situation provoked. That her uncle belonged to this particular species, Teresa was in no doubt. It didn't make him a wicked man, just a provoking one.

'Course,' her uncle muttered, coming out of his reverie, 'you wouldn't know that part of it. I doubt your mam would have said much about that.'

Teresa felt a cloud of depression settling over her. She was now about to hear more about the wretched feud, and she really felt she had had enough for one day, it was only the mention of her mother that stopped her from actually saying so. Whatever Uncle Patrick was about to tell her obviously concerned her mother, and that Teresa did want to hear.

Her uncle coughed, as if embarrassed, and gave her a wry grin. 'Keep forgetting, girl, you don't remember anything, do you? Don't mind me, I'm an old fuddy-duddy, and my memory ain't what it was. Come to think of it, I did tell yer about your mam—she was sweet on an Elton, see, and got pushed into a job that took her to England. That's what I meant when I said it was different this time. It's a Rafferty now that's calling the tune—yes, sir!'

Teresa's interest faded quickly, for her uncle was back in the past again, and she was hungry for news

of more recent events. News that only Carl Elton could give her, if he so wished.

Her uncle broke into her reverie with an abrupt, 'Are you seeing him again?'

She looked across at him and wondered if he had guessed the trend of her thoughts. 'Yes,' she said quietly. 'I must.'

'No must about it,' replied her uncle belligerently. 'You ain't going to let him browbeat you again, are you?'

Teresa sighed wearily. 'I thought I'd made that quite clear,' she said slowly. 'I have no feelings whatsoever about him, but he's the only one who knew my family, and for that reason alone I must keep in contact with him.' She looked away at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap. 'In a way I'm using him, and I've not much taste for it.' She met her uncle's surprised eyes, and smiled sadly at him. 'That ought to please you,' she said quietly.

He had the grace to look a little shamefaced at this, but soon came back with, 'Well, you jist watch your step, my girl, that's all. He's not a man to play fast and loose with. I'll grant him that, if nothing else.'

The following morning Teresa was due to see Dr Turnbull again, and as she sat in the small waiting-room, waiting to go in and see him, she wondered whether Carl had carried out his threat; for that was how Teresa had looked upon his suggestion of her seeing a specialist.

Seated a little while later opposite the cheery-looking, tubby doctor, she reaffirmed her thoughts

about her confidence in him. His easy-going and slightly vague manner camouflaged a sharp brain, and an intensely humane man.

She really hadn't much to report, but she could tell him of her delight when she found she had not forgotten how to type. 'Only a .small thing, really,' she said slowly, 'but it was a start, wasn't it?'

Doctor Turnbull smiled back at her, seeming pleased. 'As you say, it's a start,' he remarked. 'You'll probably get several nice little surprises like that, and then everything will gradually fall into place.'

'What about the headaches I seem to get when I try to think about the past?' she asked quietly.