Penny Plain, page 13
'Not a very encouraging reaction from one's own dog. He's never liked me, and Emma, of course, has made a fool of him,' she said in an entirely different tone of voice, getting up and brushing wet grass irritably from her dress. 'Anyway, we can't go yet, Max. You've already pointed out you're here on business. I'm thinking of buying that bitch and we can't get that over with till Frank's finished judging.'
'I'm here, as it happens, to keep an eye on your kennelmaid who shouldn't have come at all,' Max said so quietly and gently that Marian, no less than Emma,
thought she must have misheard him, then she flushed angrily and answered, trying to sound flippant and roguish:
'Now, that's not very kind, Max. I know you enjoy a little leg-pull from time to time, but poor Emma might take you seriously, and that's hardly fair. Let's all go and sit at the Boxer ring, then we can catch Frank as soon as he's finished.'
'That,' said Emma to Max, her cheeks flaming as she prepared to follow, 'was not only unkind and unfair, but it wasn't even true.'
`How do you know? You don't, I must confess, give your well-wishers much encouragement, Emma Penelope.' Max's voice as he walked beside her was still quiet and gentle, but she thought she detected the old note of ridicule, and because she was upset and still a little shaken both by her alarming experience and its equally distressing sequel, retaliated with the first thing that came into her head.
'I've learnt the hard way not to give well-wishers encouragement. Hasn't Marian warned you already that my head could be easily turned?'
'Fair game is your favourite expression, I think. I remember you hurled that at me very early on in our acquaintance. For all that, though, you weren't so resistant until you remembered to climb on to your high horse,' said Max, and just for a moment she had such a clear picture of that chance evening at Plovers Farm when he had taken her in his arms so unexpectedly and, as unexpectedly, sown the first seeds of tenderness in her heart, that she felt like weeping again.
'Even kennelmaids have the right to experiment with their emotions,' she said, hoping to take him down a peg. 'How can you tell if you like being kissed until you try?'
`Very true. And did you?'
'Did I what?'
'Like being kissed — by me, of course, that is.'
Now she knew he must be laughing at her, accepting with relief, no doubt, that her intentions had, after all, been no more serious than his, and managed to answer with airy nonchalance: 'I've quite forgotten.'
It was a pity, she thought afterwards, that she had to pick that moment to trip over Flight's lead and lurch against Max, thus ruining an otherwise excellent exit line, for he could do no less than save her from falling, and when he had steadied her and disentangled the lead he did not immediately let her go.
'I don't think you've forgotten, my dear, neither do I think you were doing anything so sensible as experimenting,' he said softly, and she looked away before he could read the truth which she knew must be in her eyes. No, she hadn't forgotten, neither could she any longer deny that same truth to herself, however much she wished it. It was, she thought bleakly, churlish of fate to arrange so freakishly for her first lesson in love.
'But I'm not very sensible, as I've told you before,' was all she could find to say, and hoped it was a vague enough observation not to be misconstrued.
'No, I don't think you are,' he retorted, a hint of laughter in his voice. 'And if it comes to that, neither am I at this moment. It's time I got you to a doctor instead of trailing round this show talking nonsense and risking that arm getting bumped. Come on, we'll see if the St. John Ambulance chaps are less busy now.'
By the time Emma's arm had been attended to and she had drunk the strong tea Max insisted on, the Boxer judging had finished and Marian was waiting impatiently by the ringside while Dawson dealt pains-
takingly with the usual queue of less lucky exhibitors wanting his opinion on their dogs.
`Where on earth have you two been?' Marian demanded crossly. 'I thought you were coming along with me to the ring.'
`So we were, but it seemed more important to get Emma's arm seen to first,' said Max, and she shot him a wary look.
`Oh, of course,' she amended hastily. 'Well, I'll try to prise Frank away from all those tiresome novices, and then we can go and have a look at this bitch.'
Dawson, however, was not to be hurried and waved Marian away with a firm dismissal. When he was finally free to join them it was only to say it would be another hour or more before the bitch to be inspected would arrive with her owner since he had made an appointment to coincide with the finish of the show as the bitch had not been entered. He expressed concern for Emma's mishap, eyed Flight's bandaged leg with a speculative eye, and suggested they all repaired to the Members' Bar to while away the time.
`Oh, let's go and drink and drown our sorrows,' snapped Marian. 'Isn't it absolutely sickening, Frank, that Flight's gone lame, just when I had hoped he might have pulled off Best in Show?'
`Too bad. Hasn't made you change your mind about selling, I suppose?' Dawson said, cocking a bright, acquisitive eye at her.
`We-ell, what sort of price could you get me?'
'A very tempting price, as I've told you before —providing he passes as sound, of course. Is that leg going to mend properly, Grainger?'
`No reason why it shouldn't, but today's mishap will set him back a bit,' Max answered shortly, and Marian said a little spitefully:
`That would never have happened if Emma had
been paying attention to her job. He wasn't hurt by
the tent collapsing, he just got caught up in his chain.'
`Well, you mustn't blame the poor girl for that,' said Dawson, his eyes beginning to sparkle at any suggestion of malice. 'She probably had other fish to fry.' His eyes, bright and speculative, rested on Max for an instant, his face creased into its puckish lines of suppressed amusement. But it was too near the mark for Marian and she snapped back too quickly:
'Very likely. Emma is, unfortunately, rather susceptible, as you should know.'
There was a brief moment of embarrassed silence while Emma felt the colour rushing to her face, then Dawson said, wagging a playful finger:
'That's the sort of remark better made in private, my sweet, unless you want to be misunderstood. Now, I suggest we all repair to the bar and pick holes in the judges and winners to our hearts' content; it's the pleasantest aftermath of any show, don't you agree?'
It was Marian's turn to colour, and Emma, although she knew very well that Dawson delighted in stirring up mischief, was grateful for his intervention, but she was unprepared for Max's very definite objections.
'Emma should go home, she's had quite enough for one day and so has the dog,' he snapped. 'I'd advise you to make a start, Marian. I can quite well stop on and vet this bitch for you when it arrives.'
'Yes, of course, only — well, it's all been arranged —a sort of treat. It seems quite ridiculous to come all this way and not wait for another hour. Besides — well, I want to stay and enjoy myself — to make up for my disappointment over Flight.' Marian was a little girl again, looking from one to the other of the two men with a child's plea for indulgence.
'Then I suggest a simple alternative,' said Max briskly. 'Emma and the dog can leave with me now,
and one of the vets here can pass an opinion on the bitch. It's quite immaterial who signs the certificate providing he's qualified.'
But I particularly wanted you to — couldn't Emma take your car, Max, then you could stay and come home with me? That's the solution, of course! Why didn't we think of it before?' Marian said, but even her colossal self-confidence was shaken when Max replied with barely-concealed exasperation:
'Emma's not fit to drive, neither do I allow strangers to handle my car. If you want to stop on with Dawson, the obvious course is for me to remove both your dog and your kennelmaid and leave you free to return when you wish.'
`Well, really! If I'm just an obstruction to be removed, I can take myself home by train. In fact, I should prefer it,' Emma exclaimed, unwisely drawing attention to herself, and Max immediately turned a cold eye upon her.
`Don't be ridiculous! ' he snapped. 'It's a dreadful journey. You can sit in the back with the dog if his company is preferable to mine, as you intimated earlier in the day.'
`Very well,' said Emma, feeling suddenly exhausted by the absurd argument, and although she was thankful for her release, she thought the expression on Max's face did not bode for a very comfortable passage home.
Marian was already drawing him aside, saying she wanted a word with him about Flight before he left, and Emma found herself alone with Dawson who was regarding her with mischievous curiosity.
`Well, that little problem's settled, if not to everyone's satisfaction, at least to mine,' he said. 'Our exclusive veterinary surgeon was a little narked, I think, by your reluctance to avail yourself of his offer of a lift.'
'He was narked because Marian was ditching him for you,' Emma retorted, well aware of his skill in twisting certain matters to his own advantage. 'You could hardly expect him to be enthusiastic when he'd given up his free time to please her.'
'Haven't you learnt anything about men, Penny Plain, since your salad days with me?' he asked softly, and because, looking up into his narrow, ageless face, she found she suddenly no longer resented or even particularly distrusted him, she could answer quite simply:
'Probably not, but at least I've learnt enough not to make the same mistake again.'
`Well, never mind,' said Dawson, 'I'll just wish you luck, and – make good use of that journey home if your funny little heart is at all involved. No hard feelings, now?'
`No hard feelings,' she answered, and found to her surprise it was true. He was vain and ambitious and often unscrupulous, but there was, nevertheless, something likeable about him.
'Well, good luck again and—' he stooped suddenly and kissed her— 'you won't grudge me that for old times' sake, will you?'
Marian turned at that moment, not liking what she saw very much, but glad of an opportunity to justify her complaints.
'It's really too bad,' she had said to Max, after asking his professional opinion on Flight's condition with the correct amount of anxiety. 'If Emma had used her wits she could have prevented this accident.'
'She could hardly have prevented the storm and the collapse of the tent,' he pointed out with some dryness.
'Of course not, but she could have stopped Flight from panicking if she'd been doing her job. There
have been other things, too — that carelessness over the gate, and the way she's deliberately set out to wean Flight away from me. I could tell you a hundred and one annoyances ... she's just a little too big for her boots on account of her father's reputation, and I don't see why I should put up with being treated as a novice by my own kennelmaid....'
'Why do you keep her, in that case?' Max inquired dispassionately. 'You have a quite simple remedy if you're not satisfied.'
She glanced up at him uncertainly, aware that her complaints had been more of an outlet for her disappointment in the day than a genuine grouse against Emma, and replied with a little pout of discontent:
'I've had a mind to sometimes, but Frank won't let me,' she said, and was surprised by his sudden flash of anger.
'Dawson won't let you!' he exclaimed. 'What right has he, for heaven's sake, to dictate whom you employ?'
She dimpled demurely, pleased that she had quite inadvertently struck a spark of jealousy from him, and replied, wide-eyed:
'Well, you see, Frank is advising me over my kennels. He says I started off wrong and would be a fool if I got rid of Emma. He has a respect for her abilities as a kennelmaid even if she did once take his interest a little too seriously, and I have a respect for Frank's judgment.'
'His interest has possibly revived along with his judgment. It may suit his own convenience to hand out casual advice,' Max said, looking over her shoulder, and it was then that she turned in time to observe that quick embrace which Emma seemed to accept without any sign of distaste.
Marian felt her cheeks burn as the true cause of
Max's displeasure became apparent, but she was quick enough to seize her advantage.
`Perhaps you're right,' she said, beginning to walk towards the other two. `I'm afraid poor Emma is easily led into exaggerated opinions of her own charms, but at any rate, it explains her reluctance to go back with you, doesn't it? After all, she did once work for Frank, and he's still a very attractive man....'
The journey home was indeed as uncomfortable as Max's earlier expression had promised. Emma's attempts at conversation were received with such icy politeness that, after a time, she gave it up, shrinking into her corner of the car to put a decent distance between them, and watching his averted profile in a vain attempt to read it.
`You needn't have been so snooty because I was trying to fit in with Marian's plans. After all, I'm paid to take orders and consider my boss,' she said with one last attempt to establish contact with him, but was not encouraged by his somewhat acid reply.
'I must have misunderstood your good intentions, then. Your objections struck me rather more forcibly than your consideration at the time.'
'I don't know what you mean.'
`Don't you? You made it plain enough that you didn't want to come back with me. What were you hoping for? A chance to renew past favours with Dawson?'
`That,' she said, 'was rather an unpleasant suggestion. Marian, I know, has dropped a few garbled hints which Dawson put into her head because his vanity was pricked, but you can hardly imagine, surely—'
`Can't I?' he countered as she paused, seeking for the right words. 'That little kiss he bestowed at parting had an air of familiarity, and your submission was
scarcely reluctant. Can I be blamed for thinking you know your way around rather better than I had supposed?'
'If,' she managed to say with admirable coolness considering the sudden turmoil of her thoughts, 'I didn't know you better, I'd be inclined to accuse you of jealousy, which would be absurd.'
`You don't know me at all, Emma Penelope, so reserve your conclusions until you do,' he said, but although he had addressed her with that familiar, teasing habit of coupling her two names, there was nothing of indulgence in his voice.
Flight in the back of the car gave a little whimper of pain as he turned to change his position and she leaned over the back of the seat to reassure him. She was conscious of pain herself as she moved her injured arm too carelessly, but managed to stifle the involuntary little gasp which escaped her.
'Jealousy, since you've brought the subject up,' he observed suddenly and ruminatively, 'can often be confused with common or garden injured pride. Nobody enjoys being snubbed.'
'You should remember that, Max, when you hand out your own particular brand,' she retorted. 'I hardly think you can complain of being slapped down.'
`No? Well, perhaps it's only the regrettable ego in all of us that reacts without rhyme or reason to a preference for another's company. You made it rather plain, my dear, showing such a marked reluctance to be driven home by me. Did you think I had designs on the kennelmaid's virtue to while away a tedious journey?' Emma sighed. Dawson had wished her luck and told her to make good use of the journey home, but she had too little experience in such matters to wean an angry man from a mood she could not begin to understand.
'You haven't answered me,' Max was saying, and she had difficulty in remembering, for the moment, what he had asked.
'You would have been willing enough to oblige, too, from what I hear,' he said before she could think of a reply, and suddenly fury filled her heart. So he had been listening to gossip, like all the rest of them, while he sat by the ringside with Marian ... that Spooner woman, dropping delicate hints of her pest of a husband's fatal attraction for the staff....
'What you've heard and what you choose to believe can't matter very much,' she said, grateful for the anger which spurred her on to hurt him, 'but whatever the accepted masculine view may be of kennelmaids, I'm not prepared to oblige, as you put it, just to make up for your personal disappointment. I can appreciate the fact that the storm mucked things up for you after you'd made a point of giving in to Marian, but you shouldn't have made such a thing about leaving early if you wanted to cut Dawson out.'
He braked so suddenly that the back wheels skidded on the wet road, and Emma was unaware that they had come to a lay-by until he pulled in violently and shut off the engine.
'You stubborn little fool ! ' he exclaimed furiously. 'Haven't I already told you that I came today entirely on your account? Do you think I give a damn for the gossip of a bunch of tattling women with nothing better to do than show off their dogs and concern themselves with the petty scandals of their narrow little world? I've a very good mind to teach you that lesson you're so fond of throwing in my face.'
She huddled in her corner, shaken by the bitter vehemence of his attack, listening to the rain bouncing off the windows, and wondering if, after all, he meant to take toll for the day's mischief.
`Well?' he snapped out with barely controlled patience when she said nothing. `Doesn't that threat alarm you, or don't you just care?'
'I — I don't know what you want me to say,' she stammered at last.
`Don't you? You could excuse yourself for past indiscretions — make out a good case for the follies of extreme youth — but perhaps, in the circumstances, excuses are a waste of time. I'm scarcely in a position to demand them since you owe me nothing but the casual obligations of acquaintance.'
Why should I make excuses?' she retorted coolly. 'I owe you nothing, as you've pointed out; my life is my own and the way I choose to live it is entirely my business '
He was still too angry to dose the subject by taking refuge in a brief, dispassionate retort, and replied with bitter sarcasm:
