Subtle Revenge. Carole Mortimer

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СКАЧАТЬ Dave was a local electrician, and Sally had met him at a party a couple of months ago. Unfortunately Sally had fallen in love with him—unfortunately, because Dave’s affections seemed to be less engaged. Much to Lori’s embarrassment he had even made a couple of passes at her behind Sally’s back, although not for anything would she hurt her friend by telling her so. She only hoped Sally wasn’t going to get too hurt, had a feeling the relationship meant one thing to Sally and something else completely to Dave.

      ‘Nice place,’ Jonathan looked about the flat appreciatively. ‘But then I knew you would have good taste.’

      Lori looked over at him as he lounged in one of the armchairs. ‘Did you indeed?’ she said dryly, having changed from the long bridesmaid’s dress into a silky dress, looking tall and slender.

      He shrugged. ‘Everything about you is—perfection.’

      Her mouth quirked teasingly. ‘How much champagne did you have today?’

      ‘Not much,’ he dismissed seriously. ‘I don’t need champagne to know how beautiful you are. Luke Randell thought so too,’ he scowled. ‘I should watch him, Lori, his sort play by their own set of rules.’

      ‘I have a few rules of my own,’ she told him stiffly.

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘Yes,’ she bit out. ‘I never go out with a man I detest.’ Her eyes glittered her hatred.

      ‘Hey, steady on——!’

      ‘I think you should go now,’ she cut across his embarrassed words. ‘It’s been a long day.’

      ‘Yes, but—Okay,’ he sighed as she saw her determined look. ‘I don’t suppose it would do any good for me to ask you out?’

      She looked at his hopeful expression and her anger instantly faded, the hectic rise and fall of her breasts steadying. Jonathan could have no idea of her inner turmoil, of the deep shock she had received today. It had probably surprised him at the amount of vehemence the usually cool Lori Parker could display at a complete stranger.

      If only Luke Randell had been a stranger, then she would merely have rebuffed his outrageous approach, would probably have forgotten about him by now. But she couldn’t put him from her mind—and heaven knows she was trying to!

      ‘Try me again on Monday,’ she told Jonathan vaguely, wanting more than anything to be on her own for a while. And there was a good chance of her being alone all night. The single bed across from her own was often empty now.

      He grimaced. ‘I’ve heard that before. You’ve been putting me off for six months like that. I thought today I was finally making some impression.’

      She was instantly contrite, smiling at him warmly. ‘How about dinner on Monday?’

      ‘You mean it?’ He suddenly looked younger than his thirty years in his eagerness.

      ‘I mean it,’ she nodded.

      ‘Really? I mean—well, I——’

      ‘If you don’t want to …’

      ‘Don’t you dare change your mind!’ Jonathan stood up to grasp her arms. ‘Don’t you dare!’ He kissed her hard on the mouth. ‘Monday, eight o’clock. I’ll call for you here. And no excuses!’ He was whistling happily, if tunelessly, as he left.

      Lori kept her mind a blank, refusing to question her sudden acquiescence to Jonathan, refusing to think of Luke Randell. Years of training, of having to bury her private pain, enabled her to succeed in doing exactly that, and her last worrying thoughts were of Sally and the number of nights she was spending with Dave.

       CHAPTER THREE

      SALLY still hadn’t returned the next morning as Lori ate her solitary breakfast before getting herself ready for her visit to Aunt Jessie. Even at eighty years of age Aunt Jessie was a stickler for smartness, and Lori put on one of the suits she wore to work, a rust-coloured one contrasted with a cream blouse, the scarf-collar tied neatly at her throat. Her make-up was light, her hair brushed until it gleamed. Aunt Jessie wouldn’t be able to fault her appearance today—as she often did! Aunt Jessie was her greatest critic, she had also, been her one stability during the last twelve years.

      ‘You’re late,’ the old lady snapped as Lori let herself into the tiny lounge her aunt shared with another woman; two small bedrooms and an even tinier kitchen going off this main room. The boarders of the home lived in pairs in these tiny self-contained flats within the home, although there were several big lounges too where they could all get together, and unless the boarders had visitors and preferred to cook for themselves, they all ate together in the main dining-room on the ground floor.

      ‘Sorry,’ Lori accepted the criticism with a smile, and gave her aunt the plant she had brought with her.

      The flat was like a small greenhouse, and poor Mrs Jarvis, the woman who shared the flat, had to put up with it, whether she wanted to or not. Luckily the other woman liked plants, but even if she hadn’t the autocratic Aunt Jessie wouldn’t have parted with one of her beloved plants. Lori could still remember the shock on the Matron’s face the day Aunt Jessie had moved in two years ago as Lori unpacked the car full of potted plants. Aunt Jessie had consistently refused to give up her greenery ever since, and now the Matron, and all the other staff, had become accustomed to walking through a jungle when they came into this flat.

      The old lady eyed Lori over the top of her pink-framed spectacles, her faded blue eyes still lit with a quick intelligence, her hair snowy white, her lined face still possessing some of her great-niece’s beauty, and her movements still spritely, despite the fact that she suffered quite badly from rheumatism.

      ‘What’s happened to you, girl?’ she asked in her abrupt voice, the short-sharpness of her manner belied by the affectionate twinkle in her light blue eyes.

      Lori returned that affection. No one would ever believe her great-aunt was eighty years old—she looked as if she would go on for ever. And knowing her determination she probably would!

      ‘Well?’ she barked at Lori’s silence.

      ‘Nothing.’ Lori stood up to get a gaily-coloured pot from the cupboard under the sink, putting the plant inside and carrying it to the window. ‘Smells like chicken,’ she teased.

      ‘You looked in the oven,’ her aunt dismissed. ‘No, not there. Really, Lorraine, do you have no sense? That plant needs more warmth than it will get in that draughty window!’

      She moved the plant to one of the shelves in the alcove next to the electric fire, not at all perturbed by her aunt’s bluntness, knowing it hid a genuine and constant affection. ‘I didn’t look in the oven. I know the smell of your cooking a chicken—delicious!’

      Only by the slight lessening of her aunt’s scowl could she tell she was pleased by the compliment. ‘I’m still waiting, Lorraine,’ she frowned at her.

      Some of her confidence wavered. Aunt Jessie had always been too astute. She should have known she couldn’t fool her this time either. ‘A friend of mine got married yesterday,’ she revealed guardedly.

      Her СКАЧАТЬ