Oliver was home; all was right with the world. `Did you leave your shopping in your car?' Shopping? `Your father said you were going in to London to...'
`Oh, I couldn't see anything I liked.' Heavens, was there no end to the lies she had to tell?
`Nothing?' Her mother looked askance. `In the whole of London?"
'You know how it is,' Lydie began uncomfortably, but was saved further perjury when Wilmot Pearson emerged from his study. Saved, that was, of lying further-to her mother.
`I'll go and see Mrs. Ross about this evening's meal,' Hilary Pearson declared, and Lydie knew that whatever they had been going to have was about to be changed to something Oliver was particularly partial to. In normal times she and her father might have exchanged wry smiles. But these were not normal times, and there was not a smile about either of them as her mother went to see their housekeeper and her father held his study door open- indicating that Lydie join him in there.
He was not interested in how she had fared on her shopping expedition, but as soon as they were in his study and he had closed the door he at once asked, `When do we see Jonah?"
'We don't,' Lydie answered, but added hurriedly as her father's brow creased, `I was lucky. I managed to see Jonah today.'
'You've s-'
`He was able to spare me a few minutes out of his busy day.'
`You told him that I wanted to see him?'
`Of course.' She was glad she hadn't had to lie about that.
`So you've made an appointment for me to...' `Well, not exactly.' Her father was starting to look exasperated with her, and Lydie hurried on.
`He said you mustn't worry.'
`Not worry!' Wilmot Pearson stared incredulously at her, and Lydie rushed in again.
`He said to forget about the money.' What was one more lie?
`Forget it?' her father echoed, and, his pride to the fore, `That I will not!' he stated vehemently. `Oh, Dad, please don't...' she said helplessly.
And at her totally wretched tone he calmed down to stare at her. `What... ?' he began. She wriggled, mentally writhed, and knew she should have stayed away from the house until she had some convincing lie worked out. Though, the way things were, she felt it would be some time next week before she could come up with anything halfway convincing to relieve her father of his worry. `Spit it out, Lydie love,' he coaxed, when she was still stumped.
`It's-difficult,' she said after a struggle.
`What is? I owe Jonah Marriott money and have to see him to discuss it. What's difficult about that?"
'That's just it! I don't want you to see him.'
Wilmot Pearson was a fair and just man. And, in respect of his two offspring, indulgent, and prepared to do everything he could for their health and happiness. Which was perhaps why he tempered what was obvious to him-that, regardless of what his daughter wanted, he and his pride demanded he meet with the man to whom he was in debt-and asked, `Why don't you want me to see him, Lydie?' Oh, help. She racked her brain, but no good reason would come through. `Why is it difficult?' he persisted.
'It's-difficult for me.'
`What's difficult for you?' he asked with what she thought was a father's admirable patience.
'Don't-er-don't make things difficult for me, Dad,' she said at last.
`For you?' he took up. `Difficult for you? How?' he questioned. She could feel herself going pink, but it was more from feeling awkward and inadequate that she had no answer for him than anything else. But her father spotted her high colour and, having already noted that she seemed embarrassed to be having this conversation,
`Good Lord!' he exclaimed. `You're blushing!' And, plainly looking for reasons for her blush,
'Surely-you haven't-fallen for him?' he pondered.
And suddenly, her brain racing, Lydie was ready to grasp at any straw her father gave her. 'Is-is that so astonishing?' she asked, hoping, when she couldn't meet her father's eyes, that he would think her shy of
`Oh, I couldn't see anything I liked.' Heavens, was there no end to the lies she had to tell?
`Nothing?' Her mother looked askance. `In the whole of London?"
'You know how it is,' Lydie began uncomfortably, but was saved further perjury when Wilmot Pearson emerged from his study. Saved, that was, of lying further-to her mother.
`I'll go and see Mrs. Ross about this evening's meal,' Hilary Pearson declared, and Lydie knew that whatever they had been going to have was about to be changed to something Oliver was particularly partial to. In normal times she and her father might have exchanged wry smiles. But these were not normal times, and there was not a smile about either of them as her mother went to see their housekeeper and her father held his study door open- indicating that Lydie join him in there.
He was not interested in how she had fared on her shopping expedition, but as soon as they were in his study and he had closed the door he at once asked, `When do we see Jonah?"
'We don't,' Lydie answered, but added hurriedly as her father's brow creased, `I was lucky. I managed to see Jonah today.'
'You've s-'
`He was able to spare me a few minutes out of his busy day.'
`You told him that I wanted to see him?'
`Of course.' She was glad she hadn't had to lie about that.
`So you've made an appointment for me to...' `Well, not exactly.' Her father was starting to look exasperated with her, and Lydie hurried on.
`He said you mustn't worry.'
`Not worry!' Wilmot Pearson stared incredulously at her, and Lydie rushed in again.
`He said to forget about the money.' What was one more lie?
`Forget it?' her father echoed, and, his pride to the fore, `That I will not!' he stated vehemently. `Oh, Dad, please don't...' she said helplessly.
And at her totally wretched tone he calmed down to stare at her. `What... ?' he began. She wriggled, mentally writhed, and knew she should have stayed away from the house until she had some convincing lie worked out. Though, the way things were, she felt it would be some time next week before she could come up with anything halfway convincing to relieve her father of his worry. `Spit it out, Lydie love,' he coaxed, when she was still stumped.
`It's-difficult,' she said after a struggle.
`What is? I owe Jonah Marriott money and have to see him to discuss it. What's difficult about that?"
'That's just it! I don't want you to see him.'
Wilmot Pearson was a fair and just man. And, in respect of his two offspring, indulgent, and prepared to do everything he could for their health and happiness. Which was perhaps why he tempered what was obvious to him-that, regardless of what his daughter wanted, he and his pride demanded he meet with the man to whom he was in debt-and asked, `Why don't you want me to see him, Lydie?' Oh, help. She racked her brain, but no good reason would come through. `Why is it difficult?' he persisted.
'It's-difficult for me.'
`What's difficult for you?' he asked with what she thought was a father's admirable patience.
'Don't-er-don't make things difficult for me, Dad,' she said at last.
`For you?' he took up. `Difficult for you? How?' he questioned. She could feel herself going pink, but it was more from feeling awkward and inadequate that she had no answer for him than anything else. But her father spotted her high colour and, having already noted that she seemed embarrassed to be having this conversation,
`Good Lord!' he exclaimed. `You're blushing!' And, plainly looking for reasons for her blush,
'Surely-you haven't-fallen for him?' he pondered.
And suddenly, her brain racing, Lydie was ready to grasp at any straw her father gave her. 'Is-is that so astonishing?' she asked, hoping, when she couldn't meet her father's eyes, that he would think her shy of
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