‘I told you I wasn’t a groupie, and I really am a friend of Richard’s.’
‘The one doesn’t necessarily cancel out the other,’ Hugh responded, raising his eyebrows as she clashed the dishes in the suds. ‘Why don’t you use the dishwasher?’
Julia broke out in a cold sweat at the very idea of the malevolent machine under the bench-top. ‘I like doing dishes. Peaceful, mindless stuff.’ She paused, and hurried on, ‘Not to imply I haven’t got a mind.’ This was terrible, she was sounding more foolish with every word. ‘I really am sorry about last night, disturbing you like that… it was only a joke. And as for the other, well, you can’t really blame me. You don’t look like a Marlow.’
‘And you don’t look like a Cordon Bleu chef,’ he said, obviously having received a potted history from the voluble Jean.
‘I know.’ Julia sighed as she swished the last dish. ‘It’s the bane of my life. I’m twenty-four, you know.’ It seemed important to stress her maturity to this oh-so-mature man.
‘It would help if you acted it.’
Julia turned to him, hands on hips. ‘I do; most of the time. But if you could have heard how patronising you sounded yesterday … I just couldn’t be bothered to correct your false impression. Actually I thought you were going to blame my youth when you reported the accident.’
To his credit he looked surprised. ‘I didn’t report it, and I had no such intention.’
‘I realise that now … but you can’t trust anyone these days.’ Her words rang hollow in the large kitchen. Somehow Julia felt that here was a man you could trust, to the ends of the earth if necessary. Not because of his size, or his profession, but because of his intrinsic integrity. Profound thoughts about a man she had only just met.
He kindly ignored the hackneyed phrase. ‘Don’t bother about breakfast for me in future, or lunch for that matter. When I’m working I like to grab something to eat at odd times. But I will come down for dinner.’ This seemed to put a train of thought in action and he crossed the kitchen to the window which overlooked the shambles which was the vegetable garden.
‘I heard about Jack Brabbage’s hip, but I didn’t think Connie would bother to employ a replacement cook— not until the summer, and by then Mrs B should be able to take over again. As it is there’ll be precious little work for you to do.’
Julia resented his thinking she was on to an easy wicket, but what could she say that wouldn’t blow the gaff on Richard? She applied herself diligently to wiping the cutlery, hoping he would keep his conclusions to himself.
‘But she wouldn’t do that, not Connie,’ she heard him say with slow precision. ‘She may be extravagant with words but she’s thrifty with cash. A real housewife at heart. Why are you here?’ No answer. ‘Are you and Richard feathering a love-nest.’
‘Of course not …’ began Julia hotly and saw the satisfaction in his face as he sauntered back over, hands in the pockets of his grey woollen trousers, to confront her. It would have been better to pretend that she and Richard did have something going—after last night he wouldn’t have found it hard to believe. ‘Richard … we … I …’ she stuttered, unable to utter the bare-faced lie.
‘Is this one of his practical jokes?’ The steely stare hardened. He knew his Richard.
‘I’m only the cook …’ she said weakly, hoping a dumb-blonde act might do the trick.
‘Chef,’ he corrected. ‘And you’re expecting to exercise your apparently considerable talents on someone.’ His eyes narrowed thoughtfully and Julia weakened further. He only had to ask Mrs B and he would get the whole story in five minutes flat. What did she owe Richard? Nothing! He owed her. And it would serve him right if Hugh gave him a black eye for this particular episode. She wouldn’t mind giving him one herself for putting her in this position.
‘They’re all coming,’ she blurted. ‘The whole family, for a month, because everyone’s going to be tied up at Christmas.’
‘And how long has this been arranged?’
‘Connie hired me about a month ago.’ Would he swear? Throw things about? Stamp upstairs and pack?
Of course not. ‘Was it a general family conspiracy, do you know? Or is it just Richard’s delightful sense of humour?’
‘Umm,’ said Julia. Not wanting to throw her sometime friend completely to the wolf.
‘Just Richard. Naturally. And no doubt he had planned to be here to break the gleeful news himself.’
‘Umm,’ said Julia again, and then thought that Richard deserved some defence. ‘It wasn’t entirely a joke. Richard thought it was about time that you were reminded that you were a member of a family …’ she tailed off. He was looking down his long nose at her. There was a slight ridge half-way down its straightness, as if it had been broken once. He was very good at the quelling stare, Julia decided.
‘I’m only too aware of my family.’ The reply told her to mind her own business. ‘And where do you fit into this brotherly gesture?’
‘Nowhere,’ she said hurriedly and tried her own version of the quelling stare. Baby blue eyes and a retroussé nose were not conducive to success, to the man before her she looked like a startled kitten. ‘Richard just told me about the mix-up, and that Connie was having the decorators in so you wouldn’t be able to go back there …’ This time there was a definite wince. ‘But I didn’t know when you were coming and I certainly didn’t cause you to crash into me.’ Julia’s mind skipped a groove, as it was wont to do. ‘I think it was grossly unfair that you didn’t mention at the time that you were a lawyer. It gave you an advantage.’
‘I don’t see how,’ he countered calmly. ‘You seem quite capable of standing up for yourself. You made certain that I was aware of my own culpability.’
While he, like a good lawyer, had admitted nothing. ‘Yes, well, silence is provo
king in a situation like that.’
‘I get the feeling you’re not difficult to provoke.’