Husband-To-Be Page 7

  ‘Neither do I,’ said Grant.

  He turned round abruptly to bring out—no, it wasn’t the Steinway after all—it was the jacket he’d thrown back there when he’d left the car. He put it round her shoulders.

  ‘I think we should get back to the house,’ he said.

  He turned on the ignition, swivelled so that one arm rested on the back of his seat, and reversed rapidly up the steep slope he’d come down. At the top, he reversed into a small lay-by and turned the vehicle.

  The whole thing was done with a kind of careless panache which Rachel found both characteristic and characteristically appealing. Most people would have gone forward half a mile to turn around. Some men would have turned reversing up a hill into a James Bond-type macho display. Grant somehow combined the dazzling technique of Bond with an uncomplicated pleasure in the stunt—why go forward when you had a golden excuse to reverse up a hill at speed? He turned to her now and grinned, and the grin didn’t so much say, Aren’t I amazing? as, Wasn’t that fun?

  It occurred to Rachel that Grant was probably the most likeable man she had ever met. Naturally she herself had no desire to spend the rest of her life with a confirmed daredevil; once her contract was satisfied it would be wall-to-wall carpets, nine-to-five office hours and twenty-four-hour-a-day solid comfort for Dr Rachel Katherine Victoria Hawkins. It seemed such a terrible waste, though, that a man who was devastatingly attractive, effortlessly successful and, she would have been willing to bet, the nicest man on the planet should be wasted on a woman who thought a sneer was a waste of good manners on the plebs. If only he could find someone who deserved him!

  Rachel sighed.

  ‘Penny for them?’ said Grant. They were now bounding over the access road in the other direction.

  ‘I know you don’t like me to criticise Olivia,’ said Rachel. ‘But I just wish you could find someone as nice as you are.’

  The four-wheel drive slewed violently to the right, swerved back to the left, narrowly avoiding another ditch, and slowed abruptly to a sedate fifteen miles per hour.

  ‘That’s a terrible thing to say,’ complained Grant. ‘And completely unjustified. But I’m sure you don’t really mean it. Just look at you now! You could have spent two months in a comfortable office, which you tell me you prefer, but instead you’ve spent them roughing it among various bloodthirsty small insects, and all because yours truly demands his pound of flesh. I’m not nice; I’m a ruthless businessman with an engaging smile.’

  ‘So you’re well-matched, is that it?’ said Rachel snidely.

  ‘I think,’ said Grant, and stopped. The four-wheel drive was putt-putting along the track, unaccustomed to this snail-like rate of progress. ‘I think most people’s marriages are unaccountable to outsiders,’ he said at last. ‘Maybe it’s because you don’t just think of the person but of the kind of partnership you’re looking for. It’s such a permanent thing—it has to do with what you want to do with your life.’

  ‘And you’ve decided you want to spend yours buying furniture,’ said Rachel.

  Grant refused to rise to this bait. ‘I met Olivia a couple of years ago when I was trying to bring the difficulties of that tribe I told you about to the attention of people who could help. Now, I’d made a lot of people very uncomfortable locally and got a little way just by raising a stink, and if you’ve got a lot of money you can do some things that otherwise wouldn’t be so easy. But basically I wasn’t getting very far. Olivia was a big help in getting the right people involved.’

  He frowned, hesitating. ‘It seemed to me I’d been rather naive in refusing to have anything to do with the establishment,’ he said at last, picking his words carefully. ‘They’re people, just like everyone else, and if you work with them you can actually get things done instead of wearing yourself out fighting the current.

  ‘I’d had girlfriends before, obviously, but this was the first time I felt of someone that we’d make a good team—that we wouldn’t just be idealistic together but do something practical. I’m not saying the personal side isn’t there—of course it’s there—I’m just saying that it’s not the only, or maybe even the main reason for thinking it would be a good marriage.’

  ‘I see,’ said Rachel.

  She didn’t know why this sounded so chilling. After all, it was a version of what she’d said, and believed, of herself and Driscoll. Maybe it was because Grant seemed to be overlooking so much.

  ‘Just be idealistic together’—what would be an ideal world for Olivia? Probably one where she could spend as much money as she liked, Rachel thought cynically. She had seen Olivia fairly frequently in the past few weeks, and it had seemed as though the beautiful blonde girl never talked about anything but how much money the conference centre and science park were likely to bring in.

  Once, when writing up her notes, Rachel had overheard a conversation between the engaged couple in the next room—it had begun with wallpaper, so she hadn’t felt she should move out of earshot. Then out of the blue Olivia had suggested Grant pay her a salary; he’d asked what figure she had in mind, and Olivia had murmured something.

  What value Olivia set on herself Rachel didn’t know, but it must have been pretty staggering-even for easygoing Grant. He’d given a low whistle; Olivia had pointed out that helping him kept her from taking on other work. There’d been a short pause—then Grant had actually apologised for taking advantage of her, and said that if that was the going rate of course he’d pay it! How could he be so blind? It was horrible to hear someone as vital as Grant come up with all these rational arguments for spending his life with someone like that.

  ‘Of course, you’re probably thinking that’s just the kind of thing you said to me,’ said Grant, rather uncannily reading her thoughts. ‘But you leave out too much. You’re so beautiful and vibrant. I hate to think of you burying yourself alive because of a lot of reasons that sound good in the abstract.’

  ‘I leave out too much!’ Rachel spluttered. ‘At least Driscoll and I are genuinely interested in the same things!’ she said, conveniently forgetting how mundane Driscoll’s conversation had seemed after Grant’s. ‘What reason do you have to think Olivia really cares about your project? How do you know she wouldn’t have pulled strings for anyone else who could give her the position she wants? I’m sure she’s interested in being Lady Mallett when you get that knighthood, and I’m sure she wants to go on going to Paris for her suits, but that’s not exactly my idea of idealism. I mean, you could say you share an interest in threatened minorities if you count Paris designers, but I didn’t think that was what you had in mind.’

  Grant glared at her.

  ‘You hardly know Olivia—’ he began.

  ‘Whereas you’ve made an in-depth study of Driscoll,’ Rachel broke in, ‘in twenty minutes.’

  ‘We’re talking about two different things,’ said Grant. ‘I wouldn’t presume to make pronouncements about what you’ve got intellectually in common with your fiancé; what I said was that the physical chemistry was missing, which any fool could see in two seconds let alone twenty minutes, and that without it there was no point in getting married.

  ‘Now, I certainly don’t think you’ve talked to Olivia enough to know what interests her, and if you think the chemistry is missing bear in mind that we’re hardly likely to prove the opposite in the presence of a third party. You may have been misled by the fact that she’s not publicly demonstrative.’

  Rachel tried not to think about Olivia and Grant in private. How dared he be so pompous?

  ‘Well, naturally if you tell me you have a wonderful time in bed I’ll take your word for it,’ she said tartly. ‘But if that’s all you’ve got why get married? You say she shares your ideals; what does that mean—she agrees with everything you say?’

  ‘Obviously, since we’re in agreement on the important things…’

  ‘What’s obvious about it?’ asked Rachel. ‘It would be more convincing if she disagreed with you some of the time. Just think of
the way you were in that antique shop—you agreed with everything she said because you didn’t care. I’ll bet Olivia agrees with absolutely everything you say about the science park, because she doesn’t care—as long as you get a knighthood and a lot of money, that is.’

  Grant’s mouth hardened. ‘You accuse Olivia of being a snob,’ he said, ‘but aren’t you being one yourself? Olivia hasn’t your scientific training; she can’t argue about the technical details; you seem to think if someone hasn’t got a doctorate she can’t care about the future of the planet.’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ Rachel protested, stung. ‘I didn’t mean that. I just meant that if you cared about furniture you’d have some opinions about it, whether you knew about it or not. If you ask me, you’re the one who’s being condescending,’ she added. ‘As far as I can see, you don’t really care whether she shares your ideals or not—as long as she can pull strings and is good in bed she can think whatever she likes.’

  Surprisingly, this gross insult restored him to something like good humour. ‘You don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Olivia admits it wasn’t something that used to interest her—it was getting involved with me that drew her into it. Obviously I don’t expect her to know all about it—it’s too new to her to have strong opinions. But the fact that I make allowances for that doesn’t mean my feelings aren’t genuine—just the opposite.’

  Rachel realised in despair that it was useless arguing with him. Anyway she didn’t know how much more she could stand of hearing about wonderful, sexy, idealistic Olivia.

  ‘Well, I hope you’ll be very happy,’ she said lugubriously.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Grant, and after a short pause added, ‘Same here, I’m sure.’

  ‘So why did you come and get me, anyway?’ asked Rachel. ‘Withdrawal symptoms?’

  ‘I only wish,’ said Grant. The four-wheel drive plunged ahead down the road. ‘All hell’s broken out. William has escaped.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAOS and confusion greeted them when the four-wheel drive drew up in front of the house. A little mob of people huddled in the front portico: Grant’s new secretary, shuddering convulsively, Olivia, white-lipped, two cleaners exclaiming, ‘Horrible, horrible, it was horrible,’ and twelve muscular workmen looking uneasily over their shoulders at the door.

  ‘So you’re here at last!’ exclaimed Olivia angrily, glaring at Rachel. ‘I hope you’re satisfied!’

  ‘What happened?’ asked Rachel.

  A chorus of indignant voices broke out in explanation. The gist of this seemed to be that a workman carrying a ladder through the secretary’s office had knocked William’s glass container to the floor, and it had smashed.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ exclaimed Rachel. ‘Was he hurt?’

  There was another chorus of indignant voices. There was no straight answer to the question, but since he had apparently begun hopping about, ‘coming straight at’ both the secretary and the workman at the opposite end of the room she hoped that he had escaped unharmed.

  Olivia explained coldly that she had come to the door of Grant’s office, alarmed by the noise, and had been horrified to see that dangerous spider loose again. She had barely just managed to reach the outer door of the secretary’s office, on the heels of the secretary and workman, ahead of the horrible thing, and had had the presence of mind to slam the door shut behind her.

  They had put a towel along the base of the door to keep the spider from squeezing out through the millimetre gap between the door and the carpet, it was trapped in the room, and Rachel must instantly get it out.

  ‘All right, all right,’ said Rachel wearily. ‘But he’s really not dangerous, you know. He hasn’t got much venom compared to some spiders. He’s had a meal recently, so he wouldn’t feel like hunting, and he’s not naturally aggressive. He was probably more afraid than you were.’

  Sixteen sceptical faces met hers. No one said anything, but she got the distinct impression that no one meant to go back in the house, whether or not the office was closed off, until the tarantula was safety back in captivity.

  ‘Come on, Dr Hawkins,’ said Grant. ‘Spider first, lecture later.’

  Rachel stalked into the house. ‘Why didn’t you just catch him yourself?’ she asked.

  ‘Withdrawal symptoms,’ said Grant, grinning. ‘Actually I wasn’t sure if there was a preferred technique for catching them. I remembered you saying they could be quite fragile, and I thought if I accidentally hurt him you’d never speak to me again.’

  ‘Humph,’ snorted Rachel. She kicked aside the towel, opened the office door and surveyed the debris inside with a sigh. In their haste to escape, the fugitives had knocked over a table, two chairs and the computer, and papers and wires were everywhere.

  ‘Just close the door again, will you?’ she asked. ‘And be careful where you step.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘I’ll just poke a few holes in this empty box of photocopying paper, and you can keep him in that until we get another glass case.’

  ‘Oh, I’m still keeping him, am I?’

  ‘Aren’t you?’ asked Rachel, industriously stabbing the cardboard box with a pair of scissors.

  ‘He seems a little disruptive,’ he commented. She could hear the laughter in his voice, and suddenly, as she glanced around, the enormity of what had happened struck her.

  This was the office of the head of a multimillion-pound operation. The computer had been knocked to the ground, with who knew what irreplaceable materials on its hard disk. Work had ground to a halt throughout the building, when time was of the essence. She’d seen Driscoll speechless with rage when a cup of coffee had been spilt across an easily reproduced paper; how could Grant be so calm?

  Come to think of it, he hadn’t even seemed particularly concerned to get back when he’d picked her up! How could he waste time telling her to change clothes when his office had been turned upside down?

  ‘I am sorry,’ she said, suddenly repentant. ‘But you know what my aunt’s like. Couldn’t you keep him in your office, if he bothers your staff?’

  ‘I could,’ he admitted. The blue eyes gleamed. ‘Do you promise to come and rescue him whenever he gets out?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then it’s a deal.’ He stretched out a hand and shook hers solemnly.

  ‘But there’s no reason why he should get out.’

  ‘Oh, well, if all else fails I can always leave the top off the case and give him a few torn sheets for a rope-ladder. I get the impression you’re avoiding me. Is that because I kissed you?’

  ‘Shouldn’t we be looking for William?’ asked Rachel.

  ‘I’ll promise not to do it again, if you like.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ Rachel flushed.

  ‘You seem strangely impervious to my vivacious charm,’ he complained.

  ‘Impossible,’ Rachel said sarcastically.

  ‘Well, it’s never happened before, but there’s a first time for everything.’ He grinned at her, and Rachel smiled reluctantly back. ‘That’s better. Now, do you promise to stop avoiding me?’

  ‘I can’t stop something I never started,’ said Rachel. ‘I wasn’t avoiding you. I have work to do. Look, there’s William!’

  A small black furry leg stepped tentatively out from beneath a half-open catalogue. Slowly, apprehensively, William began to advance across the pale pink wall-to-wall carpet.

  Rachel waited. William came closer. Rachel waited. William drew near, in a sudden little jump—and she dropped the cardboard box on top of him. Taking a stiff piece of paper, she slid this under the box and turned the box on its side. She tilted it gradually, and at last rested the box the right way up and placed a lid on it.

  ‘It takes years of training to master this,’ she informed Grant drily. ‘Good thing you didn’t try it yourself.’

  He laughed. ‘Well, all right, it was an excuse. But if you haven’t been avoiding me you’ve been working too hard. Promise you’ll come to the party to celebr
ate the opening of the conference centre? I don’t want to set William loose except as a last resort—I think he finds freedom rather traumatic.’

  ‘All right, you’re on,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Good. Well, we’d better let everyone back in.’ Grant went to the window and shouted to the little group under the portico. ‘OK, coast clear!’

  The workmen dispersed to their duties. The cleaning women said it was time for them to go home, and left, never to return. Olivia returned to the office with Grant’s new secretary.

  ‘I’m awfully sorry about the computer, Mr Mallett,’ said the secretary, looking at the machine on the floor. ‘I was so terrified, I didn’t know what I was doing.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right. It can’t make much difference now we’re on the network. After all, everything is stored centrally anyway.’

  The girl looked uneasy. ‘Well—I’m terribly sorry, but for some reason the connection for my computer doesn’t seem to have been working terribly well. I know yours got hooked up all right, but I lost a couple of files I tried to save on the network, so I’ve been saving to my hard disk. The network people are rather hard to get hold of.’

  Rachel listened to this in astonishment. The network had been put in place weeks ago, so surely there should have been time to fix any problems? How could you just drift along with a problem like that? Still, presumably the girl had made back-ups of everything on floppy disks.

  She glanced at Grant, expecting him to wave aside the accident with his usual friendly offhand manner. His face wore an expression she’d never seen before—no, that wasn’t true; she’d seen it just after his interview with Driscoll. Not angry exactly, but the mere absence of its characteristic warmth was startling.

  ‘I see,’ he said quietly. ‘What a nuisance. Still, I suppose you’ve got back-ups on floppies?’

  ‘Well, I’ve got almost everything, but I was only about halfway through that big document you gave me this morning…’

  ‘I see,’ he said again. ‘In that case it looks as though the first thing is to see if we can get this thing running again, and, if not, see if anything can be salvaged. As you know, we’ve got a pretty tight deadline on that document. Let me know the state of play in ten minutes or so, will you? Meanwhile I’d better have a word with the network people myself, since it seems they’ve been giving you a hard time.’