Rainbow for Megan (9 page)

When Saturday came, however, it was Ray and not Megan who provided the excuse. He had sneezed several times on Friday and complained of a heavy head. Megan was not surprised when he rang her on Saturday morning with a hoarse voice, regretting he would have to bow out of the evening's entertainment. Megan tried not to sound too happy about it, but was not entirely successful,

`Megan, are you smiling?' he croaked. 'You weren't keen on going anyway, were you?'

Megan hastily told him she would pop up later to make sure he was all right, to which he replied that it was very kind of her but Mrs. White was on duty. Also his sister had just rung him, and he had no doubt that she would put in an appearance, if not that evening, the next morning, and if Megan could fight her way past the self-appointed nurses, he would be delighted to see her the next day.

Megan attended the church service that morning, keeping well to the back of the church so that she could be first out and on the way home before Alain left. He always stopped for a chat with the vicar anyway, so Megan knew she had lots of leeway. In some ways she dreaded meeting him. She had done nothing, but she could well imagine the trend of his thoughts. She couldn't bear it if he just ignored her, and she lacked the courage to put it to the test.

The supper began at eight. Once again Megan was grateful for her father's absentmindedness. He never attended anyway, and the fact that Megan hadn't even mentioned the thanksgiving meant that she would receive no surprised queries as to why she was not attending.

At seven-thirty, she had just finished clearing the dinner table and was starting to wash the dishes, when she heard the roar of the sports car. She

frowned, but carried on with her task. When she heard the door bell peal, she almost dropped the dish she was wiping. Voices in the hall told her her father had answered the bell. There was a short conversation and the kitchen door swung open. Megan kept her back to it and started to wash the already washed dishes, madly concentrating on the task.

`I know Hallett's excuse. What's yours ?' Alain grated out.

Megan studiously placed a plate on the draining board and took her time in answering, simply because she didn't know what to say. Alain was in no mood for flippancy.

`Well?' he persisted. 'And stop washing that damned plate ! You must have got down to the pattern by now.'

Megan placed the dish next to the other one and slowly turned to face him. One quick look at his chiselled features and her glance dropped away from him.

`Since when have you been lost for words?' he goaded. Then he exploded, 'By heaven, Hallett's got a lot to answer for ! You used to be pretty outspoken. Look at you now, nervous as a kitten.'

Megan's fingers gripped the tea-towel hard.

`Are you changing or coming as you are ?' he demanded.

In half-surprise she glanced down at her blouse and trousers, now covered by a wisp of an apron, then she got the message. 'I'm not going anywhere,' she said quietly.

`Why ? Because Hallett's confined to bed?' he grated out. 'It's a wonder you're not up there nursing him !'

Megan was terrified her father would hear. For goodness' sake keep your voice down,' she said coldly.

Alain's eyes were hard. 'You mean he doesn't know his daughter's making a fool of herself over Hallett?'

`Get out !' Megan shouted at him. Never in her whole life had she ever said a thing like that to Alain, but she was past caring. 'Go back to your guests,' she blazed. 'As you said, I've got a spot of nursing to do.'

A muscle moved at the side of his mouth and he moved swiftly towards her. Before she could move he had whipped the apron away from her, placed his hands round her waist and slung her up over his shoulder.

P
ut me down!' she raged. 'I've some gruel to prepare for the invalid.' Her fists pounded his shoulder. He stopped her legs from kicking out by placing an arm tight against them, and apart from her arms, she couldn't move.

`You can help dish out the baked potatoes,' he

ground out between clenched teeth. 'You're not going near Romeo tonight.'

She was still struggling and protesting as he carried her out of the kitchen and through to the hall. Her father came out of the study door, his brows raised. Then he smiled at Alain. 'Have a good time,' he said, and went back to his work.

Vaguely Megan thought she would have to do something about her father. As Alain had said, he wasn't there half the time. She was all but flung into the car, and as she struggled to get out again, Alain warned her in no uncertain terms. 'You can sulk all night,' he rasped, 'but you're attending the supper. Got that ?'

The car jerked forward and they were on their way before Megan could answer.

Once there, she found she wasn't even going to be allowed to sulk in peace. In the same fashion that he had carried her out of her house, he carried her into the farmhouse when she obstinately sat in the car refusing to get out. Megan's flushed cheeks and blazing eyes took in the amused looks and outright grins from the villagers as Alain threaded his way past them with his captive.

She would never ever forgive him. This time he had really gone too far. He didn't release her until they reached the kitchen when he put her down with an abrupt, 'Make yourself useful,' and left her to it.

She glared at his retreating back, then turned to find Mrs. Smith's somewhat startled eyes on her.

Iris came in a few minutes later. 'You couldn't, of course, arrive like everybody else, could you?' she said waspishly.

Megan didn't bother to answer, but started to help Mrs. Smith.

`Just as long as she's here, it don't much matter,' commented Mrs. Smith in her blunt way. 'She knows how things are done.'

Megan could have hugged her. It was obvious she did not appreciate Iris's help.

The supper was held in one of the large barns, of ample size to accommodate the amount of villagers who attended. Long trestles were placed running lengthwise across the barn. The top table was reserved for the local dignitaries. Megan normally sat there, next to Alain. She didn't know how this had come about, she suspected it went back a long way, to when Alain thought it advisable to keep an eye on her. She wondered where she would be sitting this time, and had a feeling she would be delegated to the ranks. Well, she didn't mind one bit. The further she sat from Alain the better for all concerned ! She had only been roped in because she had always helped.

Coping with that number of people was no easy task, although things were now down to a fine art.

Salad bowls were placed strategically along the tables, together with mounds of freshly-cut slices of french loaves, leaving only the traditional baked potatoes and roast beef to be served. For this one special occasion, wine was served and there was plenty of it, so there was not the problem of serving hot drinks after the meal.

Iris stood watching Megan first test, then take the trays of potatoes out of the large kitchen oven. She wore a deceptively simple shift dress of orange linen. Megan, glancing at her, took in the low neck of the dress, a come-hither sign if there ever was one. She wondered if Alain were impressed. It ought, she thought, keep his mind off other matters, such as her doing the disappearing act at the first given opportunity. The use of candles would make this an easy task; there would be plenty of shadows. This again was an old tradition at Clock House. It dated back to the times when there was no such thing as electric light. The original candelabra were brought out for this occasion and placed in the middle of each table, giving just the required amount of light.

Loaded with a heavy tray of the hot potatoes, Megan brushed past Iris, who gave a slight start and anxiously examined her dress, then asked Mrs. Smith if there was an apron she could borrow. Mrs. Smith broke off from her task of cutting slices of roast beef and with a martyred expression provided her with one

of her own. As she was a lady of ample proportions, it took Iris quite some time to adjust it to her satisfaction. Mrs. Smith, now back to her task, muttered softly to Megan, 'By the time she gets that right, it will be time to sit down.'

Megan hid a grin and started to collect the plates ready to put the slices of beef on.

`Now,' said Iris importantly, 'what shall I do ?'

Considering they were on the last lap, Megan thought Mrs. Smith showed remarkable restraint. 'You can start taking these plates in,' she said. 'Start with the top table.'

Iris picked up one of the trays Megan had put several plates on, and started off. She got as far as the door, then came back again. To Mrs. Smith's disgust and Megan's hastily suppressed amusement, she started to take the overall off. Then, giving her hair a final pat, she sailed out with the tray.

As Megan served the lower tables, she felt Alain's eye on her. He sat in the centre of the top table, Iris beside him. Having served the top table, she evidently considered she had done her part.

She sat where Megan usually sat and Megan was relieved. She spotted an empty seat next to Mr. Tilson and asked him to keep it for her. It was well away from the top table and out of sight of Alain's watching eyes.

When the last plate had been served, and Mrs.

Smith taken her seat, Megan returned her tray to the kitchen. She took her time about returning to the barn, and to her consternation found everyone waiting for her. Alain was standing and she knew he was waiting to say grace. As she prepared to join Mr. Tilson, his deep voice cut across the expanse of the barn. 'Your place is here.'

Megan was forced to walk the length of the barn to the top table. The seat beside Alain was now vacant, and a furious Iris seated a few chairs away from him. As soon as Megan joined him, he said grace and the supper began.

Megan was not happy. She liked to know where she stood. A furious Alain one minute, and an olive branch the next, was a little much for her to swallow. She couldn't fathom what had brought the sudden change about. Had Iris annoyed him too? Was he at last putting his foot down? It was a wonder to Megan that he had stood any nonsense from her at all. While she toyed with her food, she darted a quick glance to where Iris was sitting next to Colonel Lamb's son, who looked only too ready to be entertained, and Iris was evidently making the most of it. Her girlish laugh trilled out several times, and Megan caught her stealing a quick glance under her incredibly long lashes towards Alain, at that precise moment in conversation with Mr. Browne.

So that was it ! thought Megan. A lovers' tiff. At

a further trill of laughter, Megan darted a look at Alain. He didn't look much put out, but she knew he was not one to show his feelings—at least, she corrected herself, he hadn't been. She idly pushed the piece of beef around her plate, trying to make it look as if she were enjoying the meal. When Alain spoke, she jumped.

`Lost your appetite too, I see,' he commented.

`I had just eaten,' Megan said indignantly, 'when you persuaded me to come.' There was much emphasis on the 'persuaded'.

To her annoyance he grinned. 'Once upon a time it wouldn't have made any difference,' he said dryly.

Megan knew what he meant. Although there was nothing of her she had been able to equal his appetite in the past. She changed the subject. 'Have you quarrelled with Iris ?' she demanded. 'She ought to be sitting here.'

He looked amused again. 'I told you once,' he murmured, 'it's your chair.'

Megan looked warily at him, and thought she could see the reason for his abrupt change of tactics. `Oh, I see,' she said knowingly.

He sipped his wine and motioned her to drink hers. 'What do you see ?' he enquired.

Keeping her voice low, Megan said, Tit for tat,' nodding her head solemnly.

`I beg your pardon ?' he said.

`Simple,' she returned, 'when you work it out,' positive she had now got the answer. Not only had she been literally dragged there to help out as kitchen hand, but to double up as a useful foil in the jealousy stakes. Hadn't she told Alain that Iris thought she had designs on him ? Laughable, yes, but very useful if you wanted to do a little stirring up of your own. `You're trying to make Iris jealous, aren't you ?' she said softly.

Alain's hand holding the glass shook slightly. He gave her a bland look. 'Am I?' he said in half surprise.

Megan threw him a look of exasperation. 'All right, if you don't want to talk about it ! I just thought I'd let you know I knew what you were up to. Still,' she said airily, 'as you once said, what you do is no concern of mine.' She was quite pleased to he able to throw that back at him, and sipped her wine contentedly.

`Er—tell me,' requested Alain, 'do I take it you're willing to help in my determined pursuit of my loved one?'

Megan stared at him. 'Help?' she asked, slightly stunned. Alain had never asked her for help, it was usually the other way around. One part of her was elated, for now they were truly friends again, but the other part was sad. She did wish he had chosen a nicer person than Iris. Of course perhaps in time, when all the corners had been knocked off ...

`Yes, help,' Alain said slowly, his grey eyes meeting her wide ones. 'You could, you know.'

Megan frowned. 'How ?' she asked. 'Frankly, I think you've done enough already. She was absolutely furious when you let me pinch her chair.'