Sophie Weston - Catching Katie

No one had ever looked at Haydon like that, especially not a woman. Even before he made his first million women had been intrigued by him. These days they either fawned on him or—occasionally—tried to pretend to ignore his tall, distinguished attraction. Even now, the frizzy-haired girl had a distinctly speculative look.

But the other one—Haydon could not remember any girl looking at him with dislike before. Particularly not when she was shaking with anger and nerves at the time. For a moment he was taken aback.

Her hands clenched into fists. ‘I’m sorry if we disturbed you.’ She did not sound as if she meant it. ‘Moving isn’t a quiet business.’

Haydon was blank. ‘Moving? You mean—?’ He gestured at the articles on the pavement with disbelief. They looked as if they had been salvaged from a junk yard. ‘You’re moving that? In here?’

The girl flushed but her chin came up. It was a particularly pretty pointed chin, he noticed irrelevantly.

‘And why not?’

Viola said pleadingly, ‘Darling—’

Haydon ignored that. He stared at the girl, his eyes hard. ‘Are you squatters?’

‘Of course not. I’m house-sitting for the Mackenzies.’ Her voice wobbled all over the place. This time though it was due to pure fury, Haydon thought.

He found he liked the light of battle in the girl’s eyes. It infuriated him.

‘Prove it,’ he snapped.

‘Darling—’

‘Mrs Harding interviewed me.’ The girl flung it at him like a javelin.

‘Oh.’ Lisa Harding was Bob Mackenzie’s sister. Haydon knew her slightly.

The girl could see she had scored a winning point. She allowed herself a smile which bordered on gloating. ‘Would you like to see my references?’ she taunted.

Haydon’s eyes narrowed to slits. Light of battle was one thing. Triumph he did not like.

‘I’ll discuss that with Mrs Harding,’ he said.

‘Darling,’ said Viola again, her tone a command. ‘This is no time to get sidetracked.’

She moved, scarlet heels tapping on the glittering pavement, and aligned herself beside him. She looked the two girls up and down. She was very self-possessed.

‘You can’t leave that thing here.’ She did not even look at the battered van but it was clear what she meant.

‘Watch me,’ said the girl with the auburn hair.

Viola gave a faint smile, her superiority undented.

‘I’m sure you wouldn’t want it towed away.’

The girl snorted. ‘You can’t have a car towed away because it lets down the tone of the neighbourhood.’

Viola said briskly, ‘You would be surprised what I can do if I set my mind to it. Now tidy up your bits and pieces and move that thing.’

She turned away as if there was no more to be said. The auburn-haired girl did not agree.

She said with deceptive mildness, ‘Are you threatening me?’

Viola was taken aback. For the first time she looked uncertain. She turned to Haydon, laying her scarlet-tipped fingers on his arm beseechingly.

Even in his present jet lagged state it was an appeal to which he had to respond. He had been watching the sharp little exchange as if he was in a dream. Now he roused himself.

‘Miss Lennox is right. This is an area where the parking is reserved for residents,’ he said. ‘The police can remove anyone else.’

The girl bit her lip. She did not like it but she was clearly trying to contain her anger. ‘We won’t be here long. We’re only unloading.’

Suddenly all the tiredness was back. Haydon could feel himself swaying. He jerked himself upright and said more coldly than he meant, ‘Well, try to keep it civilised.’

The girl picked up a big piece of hardboard with a garish picture on one side of it and took a hasty step forward.

‘You mean like not throwing things?’ she asked sweetly tossing it at the other girl. Viola gave a small, ladylike scream. The other girl caught the picture, but only just.

All tiredness left Haydon abruptly. ‘That was a very childish thing to do.’

The girl’s eyes glittered. The tilt of that chin was now positively militant. She glared at Haydon.

‘Yes, wasn’t it?’ she agreed.

She picked up the easel. It was more unwieldy than the picture and rocked in her hands.

‘They say we should all release our childhood repressions,’ the girl said thoughtfully. She looked very young and determined. And not at all in control of the easel.

‘My car,’ screeched Viola, diving forward.

Haydon had a sudden, inexplicable desire to laugh. He turned his head away.

‘What would Madame Piroska have to say about that?’ he muttered.

But Viola was not listening. She had lost her air of superiority in simple alarm.

‘If you scratch my car, I’ll sue you till the pips squeak,’ she shouted.

The girl tossed back her auburn hair and cast her a look of unutterable scorn. Viola’s alarm escalated to panic.

‘You c-can’t,’ she stuttered.

The girl smiled. ‘You’d be surprised what I can do if I set my mind to it,’ she retorted with satisfaction.

Viola was pale. ‘That’s pure vandalism.’

Even the girl’s companion seemed a bit disconcerted.

‘Katie,’ she protested.

Haydon took charge.

‘This is nonsense. And you know it.’

He removed the easel from the girl’s hand with efficient ease. She glared, her eyes hot.

She said in a low, shaking voice, ‘Don’t you tell me what I know and don’t know.’

Haydon’s brows twitched together. The girl had been shaking with nerves at the start of the encounter. Now she was hell bent on war. It was amusing—and very odd. He knew that if he had not been so tired he would have got to the bottom of it. But those sleepless hours were catching up with him.

He said dismissively, ‘Then don’t behave like a fool.’ And turned away.

The girl stamped in temper. It was a hard stamp and it sent the easel rocking. Before Haydon knew what was happening, the thing had swung up in his hand and banged hard against the passenger door. There was a nasty silence as they all stared at the long, irregular scratch.

Viola let out a wail.

‘That’s torn it,’ said the frizzy-haired girl.

Furious with himself, Haydon cast the easel away from him. It fell squashily into the hedge.

‘If you have damaged my easel, you will replace it,’ announced the auburn-haired one. She was clearly on a roll.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Haydon. He was no longer amused.

She showed her teeth in a smile that was an open challenge.

‘Just trying to keep things civilised,’ she mocked.

Their eyes locked. Haydon did not trust himself to speak. He turned on his heel and stormed into the house. Behind him the girl laughed.

He was so irritated that he forgot that he had refused Viola entry. With one last angry glance at her maltreated car, she strode into the house after him. Then Mrs Bates appeared in the hallway. Haydon’s irritation reached new heights. He turned.

‘I told you, Viola. No coffee. No heart-to-heart. Just go away,’ he said with great firmness.

‘But—’

He held the front door open for her. ‘Goodbye, Viola.’

‘Wow,’ said Andrea as they stormed off. ‘You really told him. I’ve never seen you like that.’

Katie leaned against the lamppost. Not just her hands, her whole body was shaking.

‘Nor have I,’ she said uncertainly. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

Andrea pursed her lips. ‘Don’t you?’

‘No.’ Katie was honestly puzzled. ‘Do you?’

‘I’d say your hormones just met a worthy opponent,’ Andrea said cheerfully.

‘What?’ Katie was horrified.

Andrea laughed aloud.

They took everything inside. Eventually a fair amount of it was stashed in the hall while Katie decided what to do with it, but at least it was not littering the pavement any more. Katie began a systematic search for instant coffee.