Unknown (6 page)

'You'd better mop up the rest yourself. Your legs and feet look pretty badly splashed.' They had caught most of the spray from the passing car, and were cold, and wet, and muddy. She would have liked to hurl his duster back at him, but sheer discomfort warned her that it would be wiser if she did as she was told. She gritted her teeth and bent to her task in silence, acutely aware of him watching her, noting her every movement.

'I'd have finished the job for you myself,' he murmured wickedly as she finished and -sat back in her seat, 'but there's not much room to manoeuvre in a car.'

She looked round at him suspiciously, and then looked away again quickly.

'I'll wash the duster for you when we get home, and let you have it back,' she said hurriedly, and occupied herself with unnecessary concentration, folding the duster into neat halves, and then into quarters, rather than meet his look again.

'D'you need to do any shopping?' He keyed the engine into life and waited with his hand on the gear lever.

'No.' Marion ignored her need for a new sketching pencil. She would rather use the two broken halves of her old one than be under any further obligation to Reeve.

'In that case, well go and join Willy.'

She had not expected this. She thought he would be going straight back to Fallbeck, but of course he would have to pick up the pilot. She leaned back in her seat and resigned herself to Reeve's sole company until they got to the airport.

'We're a bit early,' he commented as they arrived. The journey did not seem so long as she thought it would be, principally because of the comfort of the large car. Reeve pulled into a parking slot alongside the white terminal building. 'We might as well go inside and wait,' he suggested, 'the observation lounge is less cramped than a car.' The Rover was far from cramped, but the observation lounge offered the prospect of other people, who would serve to distract her from the unwelcome awareness she felt at Reeve's close proximity. Perhaps take away the memory of the treacherous sweetness of his kiss the evening before, that insisted on returning despite her efforts to make it go away.

'Let's go and sit over by the window and have some lunch while we're waiting.' Before she could refuse, he spoke to a girl in staff uniform, and placing his hand under Marion's elbow he guided her towards a table beside the huge plate glass windows that walled one complete side of the lounge.

'What a wonderful view!' The activity on the ground captivated her attention, and made Reeve at least temporarily take second place. Two airliners were parked close to the terminal building, in the process of unloading their passengers, and she took the seat Reeve held out for her automatically, while she watched.

'Haven't you been here before?' Reeve asked her, and he sounded surprised. To Marion, his question sounded so much like the polite opening gambit of a strange partner at a dance—'do you come here often?'—that a reluctant smile lit her face.

'No, but I haven't had a lot of time really. I've only been back in the valley for about a year. This was still an Air Force station when I used to visit my aunt and uncle while I was small. It's only been a civilian airport for the last eight years or so.'

'And what made you neglect your relatives for the last eight years?'

'Art college at first.' Marion paused while the waitress brought their order—Reeve's order, he had not consulted her—and discovered she was hungry after all. The plate of smoked salmon in front of her, flanked by a bowl of crisp salad, and crusty rolls that felt hot to her touch, were an added appetiser, and she went on more readily, covering her initial awkwardness with conversation, 'Afterwards I had a stroke of luck that brought my work some recognition, so I've been able to freelance ever since, and several commissions have taken me abroad for quite long periods.'

She did not think it was necessary to add that the stroke of luck she referred to was in fact a coveted award won, not by luck, but by a piece of brilliant and original design work that brought her instant acclaim, and a request to submit her ideas from a firm that bore a world-famous name. Other such requests followed, and these gave her the opportunity to practise her talent while working where she pleased, and rapidly made her name known and respected in her particular field.

'So the Fleece isn't really your home?' Reeve looked thoughtful for some reason. It could have been that he was simply intent in dissecting his roll in order to butter it to his satisfaction. He did not look up when Marion replied.

'No, I quae back to keep Uncle Miles company after my aunt died. We're all the family each other has got,' she explained somewhat inarticulately.

'He seems to be pretty well absorbed with his hobby, from what you said,' Reeve commented, 'and I must say it's a particularly interesting one.'

'He seems to live for it, these days,' Marion replied. 'Fortunately, running the Fleece these days doesn't make too many demands on him, and Mrs Pugh's an excellent manager. He seems content to leave her with it.'

'And you?' he queried, with a slight lift of his dark brows.

'I'm free to concentrate on my work again now, and— well—I suppose just be there.'

'For how long?' he asked softly.

'I haven't really given it any thought,' she answered him stiffly. It was no business of his why she was staying on at the Fleece, or for how long she chose to remain. 'The commission I'm working on at the moment may take some time, it's for a new building in the north of England. After that—who knows?' She shrugged. 'A lot of my work comes from overseas, and it's often more convenient to do it on site, with local materials. Where will the helicopter land when Willy brings it in?' She deliberately changed the subject.

'Over there, just past where those two airliners are parked. And he'll come in from that direction.' He gave her a keen glance, as if struck by her abrupt change of topic, but he made no reference to it, merely gestured towards a gap in the distant hills, that was the entrance to the Merevale valley, and the start of the gentler wold country those same hills gave way to further south.

So Willy had spent his morning flying over the valleys. Again. Why?

She turned impulsively to put the question to Reeve, and was interrupted by the arrival of a small band of people who entered through the double swing doors into the lounge, bringing with them a burst of chatter and laughter. Some were patently passengers from the two airliners parked on the tarmac. Marion identified a hat that she had seen descend from the one aeroplane. The article of millinery was eye-catching in colour, and she saw with an inward grimace, totally unsuitable for its wearer.

A group of men and women in uniform followed the passengers in, obviously the two crews, and they glanced across the tables near where Reeve and Marion were sitting to see if there were sufficient vacant seats to enable them to sit down together. They greeted the waitresses with cheerful familiarity, but although they must have seen Reeve and herself, none of them spoke as they took their places nearby. And surely, Marion thought, if Reeve belonged to one of the airlines using the airport, they would have known him, and acknowledged his presence?

'This
looks like Willy coming now.'

His voice penetrated Marion's preoccupation, and with an effort she brought her attention back to what he was saying. Something about Willy....

'Where?' She could see no sign of the pilot on the flying field below the windows.

'Not on the field. Over there, look.' Reeve leaned across the narrow table, and caught her by the shoulder, tinning her to face the gap in the hills. His hand stayed there, holding her, while he pointed with his other towards a faint speck in the sky, barely discernible as yet, it was so small.

'Over there, where that patch of blue sky is.' The clouds had spent their fury, and left a world refreshed, and ready to receive the strengthening sun again.

'You mean the helicopter.' She had only caught part of what he said. 'I thought you meant Willy himself.'

The two are inseparable,' he told her drily.

His hand and her shoulder seemed to be the same. His palm felt hard and warm through the thin stuff of her blouse, and she moved uneasily, pulling away as much from the strange tremor that seemed to start from where his hand rested, and travel down the length of her spine, as from the slight restriction of his hold.

'We'd better go, or he'll wonder where we are.'

'There's no haste, Willy will be some time yet. He's got to wait for permission to land. There's plenty of time to finish your coffee in peace.'

He drank his own unhurriedly. Marion took a nervous gulp from her cup, and the hot black liquid steadied her. It ran warm fingers inside her, and took away some of the tremor, and she drained her cup, thankful that for once she had liberally sugared it. This man disturbed her, and she did not relish the feeling. He was an enigma, and she did not like enigmas.

'The helicopter's a lot closer.' The speck on the horizon was much bigger now, and rapidly increasing in size, although the double glazing on the windows ensured that no noise from it reached them. It loomed nearer, just as Reeve seemed to loom on her own horizon, she thought uneasily, slowly increasing his impact on her life, even beginning to dominate her thoughts.

'Let's go down and meet him.' She put a hasty check on them, and jumped to her feet. The room that had seemed so large and airy before now suddenly seemed close and stuffy—confining. The gay talk and laughter of the passengers and the air crews became an unendurable noise.

'Stand well back, or you'll catch the down draught.' Reeve caught her hand in his own and held it as they reached the tarmac. As if she was a child, thought Marion indignantly, and then wondered suddenly if he was married. If he might be accustomed to holding a child's hand to prevent it from running forward, eager to see the helicopter. The thought brought a curious flatness with it. She wriggled her fingers, trying to force them from his grip, but it tightened instead, and a claustrophobic sense of capture made her temper flare.

'I can't reach my hanky out of my bag if you insist on gripping my fingers like a vice,' she told him icily.

He loosed her, and she fumbled in her bag with fingers which stung from the pressure of his hold. He gave her an oblique look, and stepped forward as the rotors of the machine swung to a stop. Marion remained where she was, under the overhang of the doorway from the terminal building, and Willy emerged from the cabin door of the helicopter.

'It's been a useful morning. Skipper,' he hailed Reeve as he rounded the tail of his machine, 'but it only confirms what we already know. It's an ideal site....'

Reeve said something to the pilot. Marion did not catch what it was, because he kept his voice pitched low, but she saw Willy raise his eyes to where she stood against the doorway, as if Reeve might have warned him that she was there, and within earshot. Warned him to be careful of what he said. There was the briefest of pauses, then Willy raised his hand to her, and called out cheerfully.

'Come and be introduced.' He patted the side of his machine, and reluctantly Marion followed Reeve. She did not particularly want to see the helicopter. At any other time she would have jumped at the chance, but now she felt all she wanted to do was to get back to the Fleece, and try and sort out the confusion that seemed to be tangling her mind into knots. She wished she had remained at home today, sketching, or working on her woodcut. Anything rather than be standing on the edge of the flying field invaded by doubts of she knew not what concerning the motives of the two men who were now guests at her uncle's hotel. And what else besides?

'Shan't keep you a minute,' the pilot called. 'I've just got to tie her down.'

'And feed her as well?' Marion laughed, thrusting her doubts aside.

'No, I mean it,' Willy said seriously. He moved round the machine to where the blade of the rotor protruded sideways, and slung a cord over it. The end looped over and dropped, and he jumped to catch it. Twice it eluded his fingers, his portly form was short, and his jump was not quite high enough.

'I'll get it.' Reeve jumped, too, but not very high, Marion noticed, and his longer arm caught the cord easily. He gave the end to Willy, who hooked it into a loop on the blade, and walking round to the back of the machine, drawing the rotor blade more or less in parallel with the body, he fastened the other end of the tether securely to the rear.

'How's that?' he beamed. 'Nicely hobbled, and guaranteed not to wander about on her own during the night.'

'I declare he treats that machine as if it was a human being,' Reeve laughed. He looked different when he smiled, Marion thought. The sternness vanished from his face, and he looked much younger. 'Come on, it's time we started back. You've eaten, I take it?' At least he seemed considerate of the subordinate? Marion chalked up a reluctant point in his favour.

'Would I be following you to the car if I hadn't?' Willy asked him cheerfully, and Marion chuckled. The answer was too obvious to need a reply. Reeve shot her an amused look, and his lips quirked upwards in a grin to match Willy's, and it was in a much lighter atmosphere that they tucked themselves into the Rover and started back towards Fallbeck.

'You'll find some interesting literature on the back seat, to keep you occupied,' Reeve threw the information over his shoulder as he drove, and Willy groaned.

'Don't let him get on his hobbyhorse,' he warned Marion, 'turn him loose on your uncle, instead, they both talk the same language.'

'I wonder if we do?' The words were prosaic enough, it was the way he said them that made Marion cast him a sharp, sideways glance, but he was looking straight ahead, and there was nothing in his expression to indicate any ulterior meaning behind his remark. He appeared to be solely absorbed on the road ahead as the speedometer climbed to allow them to pass two coaches that were travelling in convoy, and then dropped back to a more moderate cruising speed once they were safely left behind.

'Stop it!' Marion chided herself. She was beginning to look for a brigand behind every bush. If she dissected every word Reeve spoke to find what lay behind it, there would be no ending to it.