The Old Vengeful

The emerald-green shoulders drooped. 'Paul... do you know how many cars they sent to Laon?'

It was in the balance now, as he shook his head.

'Five, Paul. And ten men. Ten men, Paul!'

It was still in the balance.

'We were afraid there was going to be a blood-bath.' Nikki stared at him. 'And you're lying—of course.'

It was going the wrong way.

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Paul gave a tiny shrug. 'Well, if I told you the truth you'd never believe it. Just let Elizabeth go, that's all—she was led astray by bad company, you can say.'

'No.' Nikki shook her head again. 'It's all or none.'

'Better make it all then, because I promise we'll go quietly.

But if we have to stay we'll make trouble, I promise you that, too.' He nodded. 'Starting with a phone call to the British Embassy.'

'You can have one call, Paul.' This time Nikki nodded. 'From the departure lounge. Your plane leaves in two hours. The seats are already booked.'

XIV

As ELIZABETH REACHED for the bell-chain which hung beside the big iron-bound door a narrow window under the eaves above swung open.

'Oh—hullo there! I thought I heard a car.' Cathy Audley's little bespectacled face peered out of the window. 'You're early . . . but come on in—it isn't locked.'

Elizabeth set her hand on the latch, and then remembered Humphrey Aske and turned back towards the car.

'The daughter, is that?' He made a face. 'You go on, Miss Loftus, and I'll bring in your luggage . . . And then you'll have to protect me. I'm not at my best with little girls.'

He wouldn't be, thought Elizabeth waspishly, and then dummy3

despised herself for becoming infected with Paul's prejudices.

The trouble was, it was not an infection which could be shrugged off easily once it was in the blood, even though Aske of all men had treated her with his own brand of courtesy, diffident but unfailing; it wasn't anything he said, or anything he did—it was what he was which made her irrationally uneasy, and there was nothing to be done about it.

She forced her mind away from him, and stepped into the house— and was uneasy there, too: it was like coming home, yet not coming home—home, because here, still guarded, she could feel safe, and she who outlives this day and comes safe home . . . and because the home from which she had been plucked on Saturday could never be home again for her after what had happened in it.

'Elizabeth!' Cathy pattered down the great polished staircase and skidded breathlessly to a halt in front of her. 'You're early—sorry, but Mummy's gone to Guildford with Daddy—

but the old gentleman's here, and I've put him in the library with Mummy's Guardian and a glass of sherry.'

What old gentleman? There was simultaneously too much and too little to grasp there at one go: they were expected, which was fair enough from Paul's phone call, which had brought two cars to Gatwick . . . and Humphrey Aske had driven one of those with all his Brand's Hatch skill . . . But what old gentleman?

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'That's fine, dear—' Gently now, gently, to be taken for granted by a child as an equal was a high compliment, not to be trifled with '—how long has he been here?'

'Oh not long. Do you know, Elizabeth—he has hair coming out of his ears?' Cathy nodded. 'But he's terrifically polite—

he calls me 'Miss Audley' and stands up when I come into the library, would you believe it?'

Elizabeth had hoped for better than that, but while she was searching for another approach the door clicked behind her and Cathy's magnified eyes looked past her.

'Hullo. Who are you?' The child frowned.

'I... am Eeyore's brother,' said Humphrey Aske. 'Do you know who Eeyore was?'

'Yes.' The eyes filled with suspicion. 'He was a donkey.'

'Correct. So people put burdens on me. And they beat me at regular intervals. And that makes me a donkey.'

And that did indeed make him a donkey, thought Elizabeth, even though he was doing his best with Winnie-the-Pooh.

Because he had chosen the wrong child to patronise.

'Cathy—this is Humphrey Aske, a friend of your father's,'

she said hurriedly. 'Mr Aske—Miss Audley.' She grinned at Cathy conspiratorially.

' Ee-ore,' said Aske self-consciously.

'How do you do, Mr Aske,' said Cathy.

'I'm bad-tempered, actually,' said Aske. 'Nobody's offered dummy3

me a thistle forages.'