'Poor on all fronts. Not only has my girlfriend dumped me, but my car had a slight mishap last night, so I'm without wheels which is why I'm trying to trace Greville. I'm supposed to be going to a party tonight, and if he's going too he might be able to give me a lift-only he's not home.'
'Hang on; I'll ask my aunt if she knows what he's doing.' Yancie put down the phone and slipped into the kitchen. `Matthew Grant wants to know if Greville's going to some party or other tonight. Any idea?'
'He's taking his poor dear mother to the theatre,' Greville's wonderful mother replied.
Yancie grinned and went back to the phone, recollecting that Greville was something of a theatre buff, but her grin faded-everybody had something to do that night, it seemed. 'Greville's not going to your party,' she relayed to Matthew, and, on a sudden impulse, she offered, `I'll drive you if you like. But I can't come back for you,' she added as an afterthought. `If you can make your own way home.' She knew all about parties. They went on until all hours and she didn't fancy getting out of bed to collect him at any time past midnight when she had to be up at four in the morning to drive to Mr Clements' address.
'Would you?' Matthew seemed a little amazed at her offer, but was soon liking the idea. `Getting a lift home won't be a problem. There's sure to be someone there going my way,' he accepted, and Yancie was just about to ask him what time he wanted picking up when Matthew had a sudden idea. `You wouldn't like to come to the party too, would you.
'I haven't been invited.'
'I've just invited you. I'm supposed to be taking someone-and I don't want all and sundry to know I've just been thrown over. Do come with me, Yancie.'
Poor Matthew; beneath his bright tone he sounded as if he was hurting. `I won't be able to stay long,' she said, weakening; wasn't a party just what she needed?
'You'll come?' he sounded pleased.
'What time shall I call for you?'
As soon as she put the phone down Yancie knew that she didn't want to go to any party. She had thought she did, but even though she didn't know what she did want it wasn't a party. 'I'm taking Matthew Grant to a party he's invited me to tonight,' she smiled to her aunt when she went back to the kitchen.
Yancie, dressed in a straight garment of little material, considering its outrageous price, picked Matthew up at eight-thirty as arranged and drove him to the party. They were warmly welcomed by their hosts and were soon in the swing of things.
Yancie had thought she might see someone she knew, as usually happened at that sort of function. But she saw no one she knew and, while owning that her heart wasn't in it, she did her very best for Matthew's sake.
The party was at its height, however, when he leaned forward and, sounding extremely stressed, exclaimed in hushed tones, `She's here! '
'Your ex?' Yancie whispered back, keeping her eyes steady on him so whoever `she' was shouldn't know, by the merest look, that they were talking about her. He nodded, pinning a smile she knew he wasn't feeling on his face. `Do you want me to be all over you, or to disappear and leave you to try and mend fences?' she sought to help in any way she could.
'Why couldn't I have fallen in love with you?' he asked, looking at her seriously.
Because I wouldn't have wanted you to. `It's a sad life,' she said, and laughed-and he laughed too-and Yancie, almost as if she could feel his ex-girlfriend's eyes boring into her, just had to look up, over by the door.
They were being observed, she saw, lapsing into stunned shock. Not by a female, though, but by a tall, dark- haired man who was a latecomer to the party. Warm colour seared her skin-the last time she had seen him he'd kissed her to stop her giggling!
Hurriedly she switched her glance away from Thomson. Matthew was saying something, but he could have been babbling away in Esperanto for all she was making any sense of what he was saying.
Thomson! Thomson-here! Her heart was fluttering like crazy; she wanted to go homeshe wanted to stay. She wanted to rush out to the Mercedes and… Oh, my lord-the Mercedes. She was dead! He'd seen the car in the drive-he must have done. Did he know the car? With his photographic memory for numbers? Stop hoping, Yancie; he probably had every car registration number in the Addison Kirk fleet noted.
'… she can think again!'
Yancie came slowly out of her shock to realise that Matthew had just finished telling her something. 'Er-would you mind very much if I took off now?' she asked him, dragging up a smile from somewhere.
'Oh, Yancie, you couldn't hang on for another half-hour, could you? It's only eleven and I wouldn't mind at all if Pippa caught sight of me captivating the best-looking woman here.'
She didn't want to hang on-she wanted to get out of there, and fast. Thomson Wakefield wasn't interested-but he might have come over to say hello. Since they'd been looking straight at each other, he couldn't pretend he hadn't seen her. Not that she wanted him to come and say hello either. She just wanted to get out of there. She wanted to go home.
So, she stayed, `Go on, then,' she smiled at Matthew Grant. `Captivate me.'
He laughed, and she hoped Thomson was watching. Watching and taking note how, if he wasn't interested, then-as some other eager male came up to them-there were others who were.
It was a large room, more of a hall than a drawing room, but Yancie was aware of where in the room Thomson was most of the time. Where he wasn't was anywhere near her!
'I have to be up very early in the morning,' she told Matthew when, in her view, having done a magnificent stint and still there threequarters of an hour later, she just couldn't take any more. `Will you say goodbye to our hosts for me, and thank them for me? I'd prefer just to slip off.'
'You're sure? I'll come to your car with you.'
'Oh, good heavens, no!' she smiled. `No need for that. Stay and…' she had an idea he might be sidling up to his ex fairly shortly `…and the best of luck.'
He kissed her cheek, and Yancie, unable to resist looking where she had last surreptitiously looked, felt completely wretched that she was denied her last sight of Thomson-for he wasn't there.
As if making her way to the cloakroom, for all she hadn't brought a coat, Yancie wandered out from the drawing room. She felt unutterably bereft as, impervious to the cold, she walked down the long line of cars, until she came to the Mercedes.
But that was when her heart started to thunder. She had the Mercedes unlocked when, before she could get into the driver's seat and speed away from there, a voice she would know anywhere quite clearly drawled, `Well, if it isn't Yancie Dawkins! Fancy seeing you here,' and Thomson Wakefield strolled out of the shadows.
What could a girl do? Instinctively, while most peculiarly she wanted to stay and linger a while with Thomson, she also wanted to rocket out of there. Thomson had come round to stand facing her by the time she'd got herself a little more together.
She decided on a charm offensive-well, you never knew. `It's a fair cop, guv,' she trotted out, smiling. She could see his face-he wasn't smiling. `How about-I've a widowed mother and six siblings to support?' she pressed on, feeling suddenly desperate not to lose her job, but realising that she was going to have to be exceedingly lucky to keep it.
'You forget, I've met your mother-you couldn't make enough in a year to support her monthly expenses,' he replied.
Yancie stared up into his unsmiling expression. `You're going to sack me, aren't your' she questioned, all bravado gone.
'Give me one good reason why I shouldn't,' he invited, fair to the last, she realised.
But she didn't have any good reason. And to go partying in one of the firm's vehiclesa Mercedes, no less-was something that was most definitely against the rules. It was, equally definitely, something that would be frowned upon and was, without doubt, a sackable offence.
'If-if you sack me then the-er-business will suffer,' she brought out of a despairing nowhere.
Thomson continued to stare, unsmiling, at her. `Intriguing,' he allowed. `You're suggesting you're doing a deal somewhere which will collapse if you're not on the payroll to finalise it?'
Sarcastic toad! But she still wanted her job. `Not me, but Douglas Clements might be doing that kind of a deal. I'm picking him up to take him to the airport at five in the morning. He might miss his plane and jeopardise his whole mission if he can't find alternative transport when I don't show up.'
She wished she could read Thomson's eyes, but they were giving nothing away. `Then you'd better go home to
