Sally Wentworth - Runaway Fiancee

‘I don’t believe it. Even a nun wouldn’t look good in these—’ words failed her ‘—these uniforms!’

Milo laughed outright ‘I rather think you’re working up to a good excuse to go shopping.’

Smiling in return, Paige said, ‘I don’t need an excuse to go shopping.’

There was a door in the far wall. Going over to it, she found that it led into a bathroom, the bath white, the walls pale green again.

‘Is this a rented flat?’ she asked in dissatisfaction.

‘No, it belongs to you.’

‘And did I choose the decor?’

‘No, I believe your grandmother hired a firm of decorators to do it while you were still in India. She wanted it to be a surprise for you on your return.’

‘I see.’

‘If you don’t like it you can always change it.’ The suggestion had been put in a mild voice but Paige didn’t miss the implications. With a shrug, she said, ‘What do I care? I shan’t be staying here.’

Milo didn’t argue, just said, ‘I’ll get your suitcase.’

Paige followed him into the corridor just as someone turned a key in the front door and came in. It was an elderly grey-haired woman, thin and very upright, wearing a pale blue woollen suit.

‘Paige, my dear.’ The woman stepped forward with her hands outstretched. ‘How wonderful that you’re back. I was so excited when Milo rang to tell me.’

Milo stood back but Paige caught his sleeve. ‘Who is it? Is it my grandmother?’

A disappointed look came into his eyes. ‘No. This is Mrs Davieson who lives in the flat upstairs.’ He turned to the other woman. ‘As I told you, Paige is suffering from loss of memory. I’m afraid she doesn’t remember you.’

‘How dreadful!’ the woman exclaimed. ‘But you mustn’t worry about a thing. The Major and I will take care of you till your grandmother gets here. We’re old friends of hers, you know; she and I knew each other as children out in India and then we were at school together.’

‘Really?’ Paige looked down at the outstretched hands. ‘I see you have a key to the flat.’

‘Oh, yes, we’ve been looking after the place for you.’

Paige frowned, not being able to imagine it. ‘You’ve been doing the cleaning?’

‘No, not personally, of course.’ Mrs Davieson tittered with amusement at the idea. ‘But making sure the cleaner and the gardener do their work properly, informing Milo here of any maintenance work that needed to be done, that sort of thing. Absolutely essential, of course, when the owner is away.’

Paige held out her hand. ‘Well, I’m back now, so I’ll take the key, please.’

But Mrs Davieson’s hand closed over it firmly. ‘I think I prefer to keep it. Neighbours should always have a key, you know, in case of emergency. And your grandmother likes us to keep an eye on you.’

‘Does she?’ Paige didn’t push it but stepped past her and went into the sitting-room.

She heard the murmur of voices out in the hall, then the front door closed and Milo came into the room. He found her looking through the commercial phone book.

‘Is this phone connected?’ she asked abruptly.

‘I imagine so; I’ve never had it cut off.’

‘Good.’ She found the number she wanted and dialled it. ‘Hello? You’re the locksmith? I’d like the lock on my door changed, please. As soon as possible. It’s urgent. The address?’ She glanced at Milo. ‘What’s the address?’

‘Twenty-two Bardell Street,’ he answered slowly, his frowning eyes on her face.

Paige repeated the address and arranged for the locksmith to be there within the hour.

‘Is that necessary?’ he asked her when she put the phone down.

‘You saw that woman; she wouldn’t give me the key. Do you think I want her walking in here whenever she feels like it? Or her husband?’

‘You could have thanked her for looking after the place for you.’

‘Did you ask her to look after it?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Then you thank her,’ she said ungraciously. ‘Did you pay her?’

‘A nominal sum,’ he admitted.

‘I thought so. That kind never do anything for nothing. Who else has a key and can walk in without bothering to knock?’

‘Your grandmother has one. That’s all, I think.’

‘And you,’ she reminded him.

‘Not really.’ He took the keys from his pocket and handed them to her. ‘I was merely looking after them until you came back.’

‘You didn’t have your own key, even though we were engaged?’

‘No.’ His grey eyes looked into hers, challenging the mockery he expected.

She gave him reason to. ‘So it wasn’t a close enough relationship for you to come here whenever you chose, then?’

‘I think that it’s far too soon, and that you’re in far too belligerent a mood, for us to discuss it.’

Her chin came up and it looked for a moment as if Paige was going to argue with him, but then she shrugged and said, ‘Who else have you told that you’ve brought me back?’

‘Your grandmother, of course. She’s travelling down to London tomorrow and wants you to go back with her to Lancashire for a while.’

‘To stay? For how long?’

‘She didn’t say how long. For as long as you like, I suppose.’

‘I don’t like. Who else?’

‘Your solicitor. He will want to assure himself of your identity, of course, and then I expect you will have lots of papers to sign so that you can take over your inheritance. I’ve told him to be here at three.’

‘He’s coming here?’

‘Yes.’

Paige laughed. ‘How rich I must be, then, if the solicitor comes to me instead of me going to his office.’

‘We thought it would be easier for you if he came here.’ Milo glanced at his watch. ‘Aren’t you hungry? We haven’t had lunch yet. There’s a restaurant not far away that does very good seafood.’

‘I’m not hungry. And anyway the locksmith is coming.’

‘Ah, yes, the locksmith.’

He started to say something but Paige suddenly got to her feet and ran into the bedroom. ‘Come with me,’ she called.

Surprised, Milo followed her, but in the doorway found a pile of clothes thrust into his arms. ‘What on earth...?

‘There must be a charity shop round here. Give them these. And these. And these.’ She was pulling clothes out of the wardrobe, hangers and all, and heaping them onto the pile.

‘Wait! Hey, wait.’ Milo peered at her over the growing pile. ‘Are you sure about this?’

‘I couldn’t be more sure. Hateful, dreary clothes. I wouldn’t be seen dead in them. Come on, let’s put them in your car.’ Gleefully she picked up another pile and carried it out into the hall.

‘This is crazy,’ Milo said as they dumped the clothes in the back of the car. But he didn’t seem at all angry, and looked, if anything, amused by it.

They made two more journeys before the clothes cupboards were empty, and Paige looked at them in satisfaction. ‘Good. Now I’ll unpack my case.’

She had just finished doing so when the locksmith arrived. Within ten minutes he’d changed the barrel on the front door and handed her two new keys. When he’d gone, Paige looked down at the two keys and glanced at Milo. ‘One for me, and one for—’ She paused deliberately. ‘And one for Jean-Louis, of course.’

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