Carole Mortimer - Shadowed Stranger

Billy grinned mischievously. ‘I only wanted to know if you and Mr Howarth—–’

‘Billy!’ his mother cut in. ‘Take your books and do your homework upstairs.’

‘Oh, but, Mum—–’

‘Go on,’ she ordered. ‘And you aren’t going anywhere until it’s finished.’

He collected up his books and moved to the door, poking his tongue out at Robyn as he moved out of sight of their mother. Robyn couldn’t really blame him, though. Normally she could take any amount of his teasing without complaint, usually gave back as good as she got. But not tonight, and not about Rick Howarth, not when she was feeling so raw about him.

‘Anything wrong?’ her mother asked gently.

‘Er—no. No, nothing is wrong,’ she managed a casual shrug. ‘I was a bit delayed getting back from Mr Howarth’s because I—I offered to get him his supper. He’s a bit helpless around a cooker.’

‘So I noticed, by the food he ordered. Everything out of a tin or packet.’ Her mother shook her head. ‘It wouldn’t do for your father.’

Robyn felt sure it didn’t really ‘do’ for Rick either. There was an air about him, a feeling that he usually demanded and received perfection in everything. Oh, she Wished she knew what the mystery was surrounding him!

They were particularly busy at the library the next day, this being the day for the local market, something guaranteed to bring more people into town, and consequently into the library. Robyn was on the check-out desk, stamping the books and taking in the cards, finding herself with a constant stream of people, so she was quite relieved when morning coffee-break came round, less pleased when she saw it was Selma and another girl in the staff-room.

‘Did he come round last night?’ Selma asked instantly.

Robyn wished, and not for the first time, that the other girl wouldn’t take quite such an interest in her love-life. By all accounts Selma had enough trouble keeping up with her own stormy relationships, apparently having found herself yet another boy-friend. Besides, Robyn was conscious of Joan’s interest in this conversation.

‘No, he didn’t,’ she replied stiffly, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

Selma shrugged dismissively. ‘Find yourself another one.’

She wished it were as simple as that. She just couldn’t get Rick Howarth out of her mind. He said he had to get back to civilisation—did that mean he would be leaving today, have disappeared from Sanford as suddenly as he had appeared? She knew she didn’t want him to do that, knew that for all her antagonism towards him she found him fascinating.

Things were still hectic after her break, and Mr Leaven took her off the front desk and put her on to tidying the non-fiction shelves. After Monday he seemed reluctant to allow her anywhere near the fiction section. He knew very well the medical section wouldn’t interest her at all, especially when she dropped one of the huge volumes on her toe.

She swore loudly, receiving a reproving look from Mr Leaven as she picked up the book, muttering to herself as she replaced it on the top shelf.

‘What did you say?’ Selma stood behind her, eyeing her flushed face curiously.

‘I said damn Oliver Pendleton. He wrote this book,’ she explained. ‘And I just crushed my toe with it.’

Selma tutted. ‘Never mind that now. He’s here,’ she announced triumphantly.

Robyn frowned. ‘Oliver Pendleton?’ she asked in a puzzled voice.

‘No, silly,’ the other girl sighed her impatience. ‘Your boy-friend, he’s here.’

‘Boy-friend?’ She gulped. ‘You mean—–’

‘Yes!’ Selma pulled her along beside her. ‘He just came to the enquiries desk,’ she appeared not to notice Robyn’s reluctance to follow her. ‘As soon as he said his name I knew who he was.’

Yes, it really was him. Standing authoritatively by the main desk, an air of detachment about him, was Rick Howarth.

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