The Emerald Valley (63 page)

As she worked on her books, the rain beat a constant tattoo against the windows of her office and a steady drip-drip came from the corner where the tarpaulin had been inadequately repaired. At last, unable to stand it a moment longer, Amy reached for the telephone to call the builder. Probably he would not be too pleased at being disturbed during the evening, but that could not be helped. At least she was likely to catch him now and with any luck he could put her on his list of calls for tomorrow.

To her dismay, however, she discovered the telephone line was dead; that must mean an overhead cable down somewhere. She uttered a reasonably ladylike but heartfelt oath. No telephone meant extra work and perhaps lost business. How she had managed before she had one, she could hardly imagine and she hoped fervently that it would not be too long before the fault was discovered and rectified.

For another half-hour Amy worked on. Then a knock at the door almost made her jump out of her skin. With the drumming of the rain she had not heard anyone coming and now for a second she could not think what the noise was. Then she got up to open the door and as the wind took it, blowing it back on its hinges, she gasped her surprise.

‘Ralph!'

‘Hello, Amy.' His tone was as cool and self-assured as ever.

By contrast Amy was anything but cool. Her heart had given an uneven lurch and as the blood began racing through her veins her skin tingled hotly.

‘Can I come in?' he asked. ‘It's very wet out here!'

‘Yes, of course. Come in.'

He followed her into the office, shaking the raindrops from his flying-jacket with the same careless ease she remembered so well. But there was a constraint between them now and thrilled as she was to see him, she was aware of it. It was almost as if they had gone back to the beginning – to the day when she had run into his car with the lorry. His arrogance was as daunting now as it had been then. Except that then she had disliked him and now …

Now she could not put a name to the emotions that leaped and reared as she faced him for the first time in more than a year. While he had been away, she had put him out of her mind because she had no time for regrets. She had refused to remember the way his touch had excited her, refused to acknowledge the longing for him of which she had been so ashamed. But now, meeting him again so unexpectedly, she was unable to erect a single defence against the power of the attraction he had for her.

‘You're quite a stranger.' Tension introduced an edge into her voice which sounded almost hostile. Her knees felt weak and carefully she manoeuvred around the desk and sat down. Ralph casually leaned back against the filing cabinet, but she thought the attitude of relaxation was skin-deep only – beneath the careless pose he was as taut and alert as an animal ready to attack.

‘I've been based very firmly in Gloucester,' he replied.

‘And how has that worked out?'

‘Very well. I now have a depot right on the docks and I've established trade with overseas timber companies, principally in Scandanavia. As a matter of fact, I was over there for an extended stay this summer to strengthen the links.'

‘That explains why we haven't seen you in Hillsbridge.'

‘Oh, I have been back, but usually at weekends and then mostly I'm only too happy to stay at home and make the most of the comforts I've been missing – not least Mrs Milsom's cooking.'

There was a gleam of amusement in his eyes and the colour came up in Amy's cheeks as she wondered if he was alluding to the dinner they had shared.

‘I don't know how you manage it,' she said hastily. ‘It must be difficult running businesses in two different places.'

‘They're not really two businesses – they're one and the same. And as regards the Hillsbridge end of the enterprise, I've been lucky; I have a good depot manager and good staff. There comes a time when you have to delegate, as you'll discover, Amy.'

She didn't answer. Delegating was something she could not imagine herself ever being able to do. It was one thing to leave Herbie to look after the maintenance of the lorries and the practical problems of the yard – she knew so little about that side of things that it was really only sensible. But the more she learned the more she realised that even that aspect of the business came back to her as the person ultimately responsible; sometimes she would wake at night, arousingly aware that this lorry was due for a service tomorrow or that one needed attention to its horn or tail-light. How could she possibly hand all that over to someone else? Yet it was strange to think that three short years ago it would never have entered her head that she could do any of it.

‘Your business seems to be thriving, Amy. I knew it would,' Ralph commented.

Another small shiver ran through her. How was it that the tone of his voice could affect her like that? More sharply than she had intended, she said, ‘I hope we've given you satisfaction.'

‘Indeed. When the contracts run out, I am sure we shall wish to renew them. And there may be other work. In fact that's the reason I'm here now – to ask how you would feel about taking on longer hauls.'

Ridiculously her spirits fell a little. Fool that she was, she had still been nursing a vain hope that he might have called to see
her.
She should have known better. With Ralph, business was behind most things.

‘What sort of longer hauls did you have in mind?' she asked.

He pulled across a chair and straddled it.

‘I have a couple of lorries myself at Gloucester, of course, but when the import business is going at full stretch I shall have more customers than I can handle. One answer would be to invest in more lorries but, for reasons I won't go into, I don't want to do that just at the moment. Another alternative would be to use Gloucester haulage firms – there are plenty of them – but I prefer to stay with the tried and tested. And I have enough customers in this area to make it worthwhile to use a Hillsbridge-based company. Generally speaking, the scope of my operation can be fitted into a triangle like this …'

Without asking permission, he reached for Amy's pen and began to draw on the back of an envelope which was lying on the desk.

‘Are you sure you wouldn't like a clean sheet of paper?' Amy asked, mock-sarcastically.

‘Well, yes – if you can spare it.'

‘Help yourself.'

For a few minutes they talked over the details of Ralph's proposals and then, almost abruptly, he rose.

‘Good! You'll do sums and quote me, will you? I shall be here until tomorrow, but after that you can reach me in Gloucester.'

‘You're not going to be here for long, then?' she said. ‘I thought perhaps your sister would persuade you to stay for a few days. She must find it rather lonely, with you away so much.'

He smiled briefly.

‘Flora's handicap has made her quite a recluse. Mrs Milsom provides all the company she wants and they're very good at making up dummy hands for games of whist – though I suspect they cheat rather a lot! But they don't miss me. I'm no card player and unless there is money at stake, I find it very hard to work up any enthusiasm. Business is much more interesting – especially building up a new branch. You could do worse than open another depot yourself, Amy – in Gloucester perhaps.'

‘Oh, I've quite enough on my plate with this one at present!' she retorted, then immediately regretted the ill-considered response. She had no wish to appear narrow and inward looking – Ralph seemed to have such a high opinion of her enterprise, which flattered her – neither did she want him to know how heavily she had mortgaged the business in order to build it up as she had. Some things were better kept to oneself, especially where other business people were involved; moreover Ralph, for all that had been between them, was as shrewd a man as any when it came to making a quick profit. ‘As you can see, I was very busy when you arrived,' she went on hastily. ‘And to be honest, I shall be here until midnight if I don't get on with things.'

He raised an eyebrow. ‘In that case, I won't hold you up any longer.' He moved to the door and opened it. Again the wind almost whipped it from his grasp and threw a flurry of rain into his face. The roar of the river was very loud and he turned back momentarily. ‘I wouldn't stay here any longer than you can help, though. It's a wild night and there could be floods.'

‘I hope not! I have three full loads to get out of here in the morning.'

‘Never mind the morning. How would you get out tonight?'

‘I have my car,' she reminded him.

‘Once the river breaks its banks, the bridge will be impassable.'

‘I shall be all right. Don't worry about me.'

‘If you say so. But I'd keep an eye on it, all the same.'

His tone aroused resentment. It was her yard, for goodness'sake– she had sat out two winters here. Yet still he treated her like an idiot … or, perhaps, a woman!

‘I haven't got time to sit and watch the river rise,' she snapped. ‘It hasn't flooded now for two years and I don't suppose it will in the next hour.'

Ralph smiled, one corner of his mouth lifting. ‘Good night, Amy.'

After he had gone she returned to her work, but now it was more difficult to concentrate than ever. Ralph had unsettled her, tempted her thoughts away from the comfortable haven of day-to-day events and relationships and reopened old reservoirs of desire. One day I shall really think about the way he makes me feel, Amy promised herself. But not now; I have too much else to do and besides, he was quite right – that damned river does seem to be rising …

For the next hour Amy worked steadily and after finishing what she had intended to do, took an extra half-hour to prepare the backbone of a quotation for Ralph. Then she sat back, thinking once more of his suggestion that she should open another depot, possibly in Gloucester. It would be nice to imagine that perhaps he wanted to work more closely with her, but that could be no more than wishful thinking.

Anything that might have been between you and Ralph Porter ended when you told him you were not interested in a relationship with him, she reminded herself – he's not the one to go chasing after lost causes. But the warning did no good; he was back, she had seen him again and all her old feelings had been resurrected.

At last Amy packed her papers together, turned out the fire and lights and put on her mackintosh. As she opened the door she was met by total darkness, for the wind had put out the gas-lamp which usually lit the stretch of road outside the yard. Turning up her collar, she went down the wood-plank steps of her office and straight into what seemed to be a deep puddle. Her feet, encased in her Russian boots, did not feel it but there was enough to splash cold water up her legs.

‘Ugh!' Amy stopped short. She had known the yard was in need of repair, but had not realised it was bad enough to cause puddles like this right outside her office door. After she had taken a tentative step or two forward, the truth hit her. This was not just a puddle, it was the river, encroaching, slowly but surely into the yard.

Her heart sank. This was it, then. The rain was still falling steadily and if it kept up all night, by morning the yard and the road outside would be under water. Thank heavens Herbie had moved everything to the higher ground. Thank heavens that her car was on higher ground too!

She waded a few more steps and was then out of the ankle-deep swirls. As she half ran across to her car, she reflected that at least she would get that safely home before the yard flooded. She only wished she could take the lorries and everything else, lock, stock and barrel.

A few turns of the handle and the engine spluttered into life. Amy jumped in, got into gear and then, as her lights illuminated the lower part of the yard, she saw just how high the water already was … a creeping, rising tide.

The wheels splashed through the puddles as she drove towards the gates and out; then, too late, she remembered Ralph's warning about the river bridge. The front of the car hit the deeper water with a smack, forging a path for a moment, and fatally Amy let her foot up on the accelerator. Afterwards she tried to explain that she had just been trying to slow down; in fact it was an instinctive but totally wrong reaction. When she tried to move forward again the car pushed ineffectively against the water, chugged and stopped. Frantically Amy tried to coax it back to life, but her efforts were useless. The engine coughed and spluttered like a sick old lady and then, with a gurgle, died.

‘Oh, my God!' Amy said aloud as she forced open the door and saw the water swirling around the wheels. Even her boots could not protect her now – the icy wetness seeped and oozed between her toes as she waded into it. The starting handle was almost under water and though she grasped it determinedly, she knew her efforts would be in vain.

What can I do? she wondered wildly as she put all her weight behind it. I can't leave the car here!

A sudden rush of longing for Llew filled her. He would have known what to do. But Llew could not help her now.

When first she heard the sound of a motor car engine, Amy thought it must be up in the main road. Then, as beams of light sheared through the darkness, she realised it was coming her way. Splashing, her feet dragging in the water like hooves in quicksand, she ran towards the road waving wildly. The car was coming quite fast and in the total darkness only the headlamps were visible, like great devil's eyes. Then, as it drew level with her, it slowed and she recognised the unmistakable lines of Ralph's Morgan.

Relief surged through her, muted with embarrassment. He had warned her about this and now he was going to see her stuck here just as he had predicted. For an unbearable moment she thought he was going to laugh, but he did not.

‘Amy!' he said, his face very straight. ‘What are you doing out in all this rain?'

Relief gave way to annoyance. ‘What do you
think
I'm doing? My car's stuck in the water! The river's up – the bridge is flooded.'