Next Door to Romance by Margaret Malcolm Page A

Saville again! Of course, he didn't live here. From what he had said, she had gathered that he had a flat in London, and if she were to get a job away from home, that would probably be in London as well, so there would be no reason why they shouldn't meet there. Only it was so very evident that Mark, if not exactly wealthy, certainly moved in a circle very different from anything Lisa had ever known.
    She visualized him giving cocktail parties at his flat or entertaining people at smart restaurants. His guests would be men who, like Mark, were making or had made their way in the world. And the women—they would be sophisticated and soignée with beautiful jewels and clothes and furs. And beside them, Lisa knew she would look like a country cousin—and worse still,
feel
like one. But here, where she belonged, if she wasn't a Somebody, at least she wasn't a Nobody either. Here, she could meet Mark on her own ground, and what was more, here, the sophisticated townswoman would look over-dressed and out of place. So she must stay! She realized that her mother was talking very emphatically.
    'Nonsense, darling! You're just
not
going to be one of those spinster daughters for ever tied to their mother's apron strings! One of these days you'll be getting married and then, of course, you'll be leaving us. So why not go now and see a bit more of the world before the time comes for you to settle down?'
    She waited anxiously. She could have told Lisa that it was because her world was such a small one that anything outside its restricting boundaries must of a necessity seem more exciting, more of an adventure than those things she had come to accept as part of her everyday life. And Tom came within that category. Everyday, ordinary—that must be how he seemed to Lisa. Of course, it might be perfectly true that she didn't and never would love Tom. But surely she'd have a better chance of knowing her own mind for sure if she could look at Tom from a greater distance—get him into perspective, so to speak.
    'Well, we can't decide anything like that in a hurry,' Lisa said matter-of-factly. 'For one thing, I'd have to decide what I'd do—and you know as well as I do that there aren't many things I
can
do. What I must decide right away is whether to tell Tom I've changed my mind about working for him—'
    'If I were you, I'd leave it to Tom,' Mrs Bellairs said firmly. 'See whether he—'
    And, as if she had given him his cue, Tom burst into the kitchen. He had a struggling, demented cat in his arms—a cat shrouded and swathed in the gluey length of an old-fashioned fly-paper, a loop of which had somehow stuck itself to Tom's red hair.
    'For heaven's sake, come and lend me a hand, Lisa!' he implored breathlessly. 'Two hands aren't nearly-enough. Ouch, you little blighter, keep still, can't you?'
    Lisa tossed down her tea towel and followed Tom quickly back to his surgery. The door closed behind them.
    'Oh, drat the boy!' Mrs Bellairs said in sheer exasperation. 'Does he have to make a figure of fun of himself so that he looks like a scruffy schoolboy instead of the man who will bring Romance into her life! He's an idiot—or—' she put her head thoughtfully on one side— 'is he? He must know what a difficult situation they're both in now, but by being so matter-of-fact and unromantic, he's probably put Lisa's mind at rest over working for him—and without saying a word about it, either! I suppose—' suspicion flooded her mind, 'he didn't deliberately get that poor kitten so tangled up—'
    Tom hadn't—but he had taken advantage of a situation which chance had presented to him. Who wouldn't in such circumstances? Not Tom, anyway! He, as Mrs Bellairs had finally decided, was no fool. And last night, he had done a lot of thinking.

    'Yes, I know,' the Rector's wife said apologetically to the ladies of her Gala and Fete Committee. 'We all feel we're being hustled into doing something we may regret, but what is the alternative? To cancel the