Love in the Valley Read online

  ‘Oh no, no,’ Julia wiped the smile off her face and sought for something else to say. Unfortunately she said the first thing that came into her mind. ‘You’re so big!’ Stupid. Now he would say something condescending about her size.

  ‘I know.’ He slowly perused the paper in his hand, then put the scrap in his pocket. Everything about the man was measured, as if he had to consider every movement in terms of weight displacement.

  ‘I shall say it was your fault on the form,’ Julia told him in a final attempt to get him to comment on the accident.

  He inclined his head slightly and held the car door for her. Julia gave up and subsided into the seat.

  ‘See you in court,’ she said impishly. It was a nice exit line but there was no exit. Five minutes later, after staring at the incomprehensible workings under the bonnet she glared at the silent watcher.

  ‘Why don’t you offer to help?’

  ‘I’m not a mechanic. Are you a member of the AA?’ He seemed to expect a negative answer, and he got one.

  ‘Well, what do you suggest?’ Julia asked, staring him in the eye, leaving him in no doubt as to what she suggested.

  ‘Will the nearest petrol station do?’

  ‘It’ll have to, won’t it,’ snapped Julia. Honestly, he had no need to sound so reluctant. She couldn’t help adding: ‘And I promise I won’t mug you on the way.’

  He didn’t deign to answer that. He helped her carry her bags to the Maserati and slung them easily into the front boot. Julia had never been within touching distance of such an elegant vehicle. She sank into the soft leather of the passenger seat and the door shut with a solid clunk. The Hulk slid in beside her and the engine purred to life at a touch, the merest throb of sound behind her head. The interior was beautifully warm and Julia shrugged out of her jacket before she fastened the retracting seatbelt.

  ‘What is it?’ she murmured, eyes wandering over the impressive dash. ‘I mean, I know it’s a Maserati of some kind.’

  ‘Bora.’ The wheel slid through the large hands as they gained speed. It was like gliding. If she hadn’t looked out of the window Julia wouldn’t have known they were going uphill or following more tortuous curves. There was no squealing of tyres or sideways drift, just smooth power.

  ‘What does it do?’ she asked.

  ‘Everything.’

  ‘I mean, what speed?’

  He didn’t take his eyes off the road. ‘Are you really interested?’

  ‘I’m interested in everything,’ said Julia truthfully.

  ‘Allright. It’s a four-thousand-seven-hundred-and-nineteen cc VS with quadruple overhead camshafts and four Weber carburettors. It develops three-hundred-and-thirty five bhp at six-thousand rpm. Top speed over two-hundred-and-seventy kph.’

  ‘Oh.’ Julia absorbed the double-Dutch. ‘How fast have you gone in her?’

  ‘Fast enough.’

  Julia sighed. ‘I’m not an undercover cop, you know. I only asked.’

  ‘One-hundred-and-sixty kph.’

  ‘What did it feel like?’ she asked curiously. She couldn’t imagine him getting a thrill out of speed, or anything else for that matter. Too stolid.

  ‘Interesting.’

  She laughed, turning in her seat to study him. What a challenge he presented. She would love to make him smile, get him to show a bit of animation in that poker face. People revealed themselves in smiles, in what they smiled at. To Julia it was a natural condition.

  There was a lot of him to reveal. The car was a two-seater, both of them pushed well back but while Julia’s legs kicked into space, her companion’s flexed easily at the pedals. He must be six foot four at least, she decided, and if it wasn’t for the fact that she didn’t go for big men she could find him quite attractive. His face was strong-boned and square-jawed, the heavy-lidded eyes rimmed with dark brown lashes and topped with heavy dark brows. Perhaps his hair had once been dark brown too but there was no trace of it now, it was completely grey, trimmed stylishly short, and very straight. His skin was very pale and smooth, with very few lines to mar it, almost like a mask. Julia wondered what the man behind it was really like.

  ‘You never even asked why I put my brakes on,’ she said at last. ‘Aren’t you interested to know what made you crash into me?’

  ‘I know already.’ He continued, conversationally, ‘And did you know that Mynahs are an introduced bird? Their numbers are reaching nuisance proportions, at expense of our native species.’

  Julia’s jaw dropped at the callous attitude. ‘You mean that the world might be better off if I flattened a few with my car,’ she said hotly. ‘Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t like killing anything, nuisance or not. For that matter you might say the same of people!’

  To her satisfaction he seemed momentarily startled. ‘You have a point,’ he murmured. ‘But if the crunch came, I hope you’d choose men over Mynahs.’

  ‘The crunch did come, owing to your poor driving,’ Julia needled, unwilling to accede that he, too, had a point. But her innate honesty impelled her to say, grumpily, ‘Maybe it was dumb, but it was a split-second reaction. It didn’t occur to me just to run the poor thing down.’

  ‘Do your parents know where you are?’

  The sudden question stumped her for a moment until she realised his mistake. She grinned to herself. Ben had hit the nail on the head with his description of her appearance. Though her youthful appearance annoyed her on occasion, like when men treated her over-protectively, or condescendingly, it had advantages too. It gave her the element of surprise. The ‘small body, small mind’ brigade were usually shocked to find that the pretty blonde doll wasn’t as gullible as she looked. Perhaps this man thought that he could get away with blaming her inexperience for the accident.

  ‘Of course they know where I am,’ she said airily. ‘I do have a licence, if that’s what you’re thinking. I am over sixteen you know.’

  ‘I’m sure you are.’ They had hit a straight and the grey eyes briefly left the road. They ran from her cheeky expression down over the firm, bouncy outline of her breasts against the tight sweatshirt to the curvaceous thighs encased in black leather.

  ‘Do you like what you see?’ she said, provocatively.

  ‘I see a little girl, playing at being adult,’ he said dampeningly and she grinned at the stern profile. The mix of innocent face and deliciously adult curves always got to the disapproving ones.

  ‘Good game, though,’ she agreed. ‘Plenty of scope for advancement. What do you do?’ She wanted to confirm her theory that he was something solidly professional and eminently respectable, banker or accountant, or maybe even a doctor.

  ‘I work,’ he said, the implication clear.

  ‘So do I,’ Julia told him. ‘I’m not on the dole, you know. Though I am … er … in between jobs at the moment.’ Literally.

  ‘What do you do?’ Heavens, another question! He must be cracking under the conversational strain.

  ‘Domestic work,’ she deliberately downgraded herself. ‘I like it but my employers keep making improper suggestions.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me, if you go around dressed like that.’

  ‘Oh, I never wear a bra,’ Julia revealed wickedly, guessing the direction of his thoughts. ‘They’re so confining!’

  ‘Well then, you can hardly be shocked when the master reacts accordingly.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t mind really, if they’re nice,’ the blush-making sentiment came out unblushingly. It seemed that he was as gullible as she looked!

  ‘And what do your parents think of all this?’

  ‘I don’t tell them, they’d just get uptight about it. They’re a bit old-fashioned.’ Like myself, thought Julia, tired of baiting the poor man. Her mouth had run away with her as usual. She was just about to tell him her real age and profession when he said, with undisguised boredom:

  ‘Interesting as I find this discussion of modern morality, would you mind if we listened to some music?’ He didn’t wait for a reply but
reached forward and snapped a tape into the sophisticated radio-cassette player. Music instantly poured forth from the door mounted speakers, classical and lyrically beautiful, even to Julia’s untutored ears.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, raising her voice slightly.

  ‘Mahler’s First Symphony,’ she was told, tersely. ‘Listen.’

  And shut up, added Julia silently. Oh well, so be it. She settled back in the seat and closed her eyes, letting the music flow over her. She didn’t understand it but, surprisingly, liked it.

  She didn’t open her eyes again until she felt the car slow down and come smoothly to a halt a quarter of an hour later. They were at a petrol station which had a small panel-beating yard attached. The Hulk swung himself out of the car with an ease that belied his size and Julia too scrambled out. As though he thought she was incapable, her companion calmly took charge, explaining her predicament to the friendly blue overalled owner. Annoyed, Julia elbowed her way into the conversation.

  ‘Do you mind? I can handle this myself. Why don’t you get my bags out of the car while you’re waiting?’ To her satisfaction she was obeyed with a shrug. He was obviously glad to get rid of her.

  Julia arranged for a tow and a quote on repairing the car and then wondered what to do next. Craemar was about twenty kilometres away. Perhaps she could ring Richard and ask him to pick her up, she didn’t want to ask any more favours of her erstwhile chauffeur.

  An ear-shattering sound came from behind her as she stood on the forecourt pondering. She turned to see a huge Mack truck turning off the road and as it came closer she could see the driver, perched high up behind the wheel. It was a university friend of Ben’s, John Seymour.

  ‘Hi Julia, long time no see.’ He grinned as she ran over to the cab of the truck. He cut the engine and leaned out of the open window. ‘What are you doing in this god-forsaken spot?’

  Julia explained and John made appropriate noises of sympathy. ‘Why don’t you come with me?’ he suggested. ‘I’m doing a delivery to Whitianga and picking up a new load tomorrow. I can do a slight detour and drop you off.’

  ‘Could you? You won’t get into trouble will you?’ asked Julia anxiously. She knew how few and far between jobs for students were.

  John gave her a wink. ‘Perk of working for the family firm. You sling your stuff into the cab, there’s plenty of room, I’ll just go over and get some cigarettes and a snack.’

  He jumped down from the truck and Julia gave him a hug of gratitude. She raced back to where the big man was standing with her bags.

  ‘Thanks for the lift,’ she panted. ‘I’ve got another one from here.’

  ‘Is that wise?’ he asked drily.

  ‘I don’t see the difference between travelling with him and travelling with you,’ Julia said tartly. He must have seen the hug and jumped to his own conclusions. It obviously hadn’t even occurred to him that she might know the driver of the truck.

  ‘I rest my case,’ he said, but didn’t try to read her a lecture. Non-involvement seemed to be his speciality.

  ‘Thanks for the lift,’ Julia called out after his retreating back and received a careless wave in acknowledgement. She battled to stow her two suitcases and handbag in the truck and climbed in after them to wait patiently for John.

  The trip was fun. Julia liked being perched up above the rest of the lowly road-dwellers and John was a pleasant companion. He was intending to stay the night at Whitianga with his aunt and when he asked whether she’d like to have dinner with them Julia accepted with alacrity, thinking that Richard should still have a good deal left in his hamper.

  ‘Let me report in first, though,’ she said. She didn’t want Richard to worry when she didn’t arrive to cook his dinner!

  Since the truck was too large to tackle Craemar’s long, over-grown gravel driveway they had to park it on the roadside and leg it the rest of the way, carrying a bag each. When the house came into sight Julia paused for a moment, admiringly.

  The colonial timber merchant who gave the house his name had done himself proud. He had begun its construction in the 1830s using imported red brick and native timber and as the two-storeyed edifice grew he had tacked on extra rooms to the design so that it had an oddly asymmetrical appearance by the time the last nail was hammered in five years later. Julia loved it for its oddness. It was a house with character, and most importantly of all, it had a fabulously large kitchen that was a joy to work in.

  Julia lead John up the wide front steps to the white marble portico, a fussy, twentieth-century addition, and Julia pounded on the heavy kauri door with the ornate brass knocker. Silence. For several minutes they knocked and called without luck.

  ‘Would you mind going around the side to have a look in the garage—I’ll go and open the kitchen door.’ Julia said, and they split up.

  Richard could have gone out for the afternoon, Julia supposed as she lifted the flowerpots surrounding the back doorstep to find the one which hid the key. It was there, just as Connie had told her, and Julia used it in the stiff, old-fashioned lock and went into the silent kitchen. Dusk was beginning to slip into darkness and Julia switched on lights. The colours of the kitchen were warm—browns and yellows with natural wood cupboards, but the room itself was very cold and empty, not a dish out of place. No sign of Richard’s hamper either, not even in the pantry. A nasty suspicion sneaking up on her, Julia turned as John came panting up the stone steps.

  ‘All locked up,’ he said, pleasant round face creased in puzzlement. ‘There’s even a cobweb on the lock so I’d say he hasn’t garaged his car while he’s been here.’

  ‘If he’s been here,’ said Julia grimly. ‘I’ll just go and have a look in his room.’

  It was upstairs, one of the rooms which opened out on to the north-facing balcony, and it proved to be as empty as the kitchen. It was spotless and there was a fire set in the grate, but there were no clothes in the wardrobe.

  ‘The rat!’ cried Julia as she swooped back into the kitchen, to find John had fetched her bags from the front of the house. ‘He’s not here!’

  ‘Perhaps he changed his mind,’ John offered.

  ‘Oh no he didn’t,’ said Julia, seeing it all now. She had been neatly manoeuvred into offering to make up that hamper, which was probably even now being consumed in some snug hideaway by Richard and his latest dolly-bird. No wonder he had oozed charm when he had picked it up, his conscience had been pricking him. Not enough to confess, of course. Well, Richard Marlow, you’ll get yours, Julia promised with silent wrath as she took her bags into the room which was to be hers. It was one of Henry Craemar’s afterthoughts, bulging out from the side of the kitchen, the only bedroom on the ground floor. A box bed took up one end of the room, a mirrored bureau and huge old wardrobe the other. There was a small handbasin too, but if Julia wanted a bath she would have to troop upstairs to the main bathroom. She marched out again to John, determined that the discovery of Richard’s little practical joke would not spoil her evening.

  It was just after midnight when John drove her back to Craemar in his aunt’s comfortable Wolsey. Refusing his offer to come in and check the dark house Julia dashed around to the kitchen door and fumbled for the key under the pot where she had replaced it. It wasn’t there. Julia swore softly and pulled her jacket closer around her. It was freezing!

  She circled back around to the front of the house and looked up. Ahhh! A window was slightly ajar, she could see the moonlight gilding the bottom of the white sash. Richard’s room. He must have arrived while she was out and was now sound asleep, the deep sleep of the guilty!

  Without a second thought Julia slipped over to the wooden fire-escape which was fixed to the corner of the house. Rapidly, silently, she climbed up and over the rail of the balcony. She quietly tried the french windows to Richard’s room. Locked—she had expected that. Carefully she pushed the sash window far enough up so that she could squeeze through. Like a wraith she glided across the polished floorboards and paused beside the hu
mped bedclothes, savouring her moment of revenge.

  Taking a deep breath she reached out and ripped the bedclothes from the bed, letting out a shriek like a banshee as she did so:

  ‘Ricky, Ricky, my idol!’ she threw herself at the prone figure as it jerked to life, thrusting Richard back down on to the bed as she poured out her hysterical pleading. ‘Darling, Ricky, let me be yours for one night of love.’ She dug her fingernails deeply into the bare chest beneath her, feeling him wince with glee. ‘Take me, take me, carve your name on my body … it’s already on my heart!’ She tried to stifle her giggles with hot and heavy melodrama.

  Julia wasn’t quite sure when she realised something was wrong. By now Richard should be roaring with temper, or convulsed with laughter. And surely … surely Richard didn’t have all that hair on his chest … her hand explored with sudden trepidation. My God— it wasn’t Richard! Julia started to rear backwards off the bed when a dark shape snaked out from the bed and grabbed her wrist.

  ‘Loath as I am to disappoint you, I am not “darling Ricky”.’

  Julia froze. That voice … that pedantic phrasing—it couldn’t be! The dark figure in the bed rose up … and up, while Julia’s heart sank in horrified disbelief. There was a click, and the bedside lamp sprang into yellow brightness.

  The owner of the gunmetal grey Maserati regarded her frozen features with sleepy resignation.

  ‘Why is it, I wonder, that I don’t feel surprised to see you?’

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘YOU!’ Julia squeaked crassly. ‘What are you doing here?’ She wrenched her wrist out of his bear-like grip and leapt accusingly to her feet.

  ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ His hand dropped in support as he heaved himself more upright in the bed, the feather duvet falling away to his waist. His shoulders and chest were massive under the black silk pyjamas, the thick mat of hair she had felt when she had thrown herself on to him revealed by the unbuttoned jacket. What a body! The thought came unbidden and Julia hurriedly qualified it—if you had a liking for all-in wrestlers.