Wherever Lynn Goes by Jennifer Wilde

didn’t say that.”
    â€œYou damned well implied it.”
    â€œI’d better go in,” I said.
    â€œNot just yet!”
    Lloyd set down his briefcase, pulled me into his arms, and kissed me angrily, displaying a vigor he’d never shown before. I was startled and, ultimately, pleased. His arms held me tightly, his mouth seeking and demanding. When he released me, we were both a little breathless. Lloyd scowled and held me away from him.
    â€œI’m human, you know! Dull, stodgy, serious-minded, granted, but I happen to love you. I may not come on like that actor who was lounging about upstairs. I may not be devastating and clever, but I do love you, and don’t you ever forget it!”
    â€œI won’t, Lloyd.”
    He let go of me, looking suddenly helpless and thoroughly miserable. I was surprised, for I had never imagined there was anything vulnerable about Lloyd. He kept tight control over himself, but I had just glimpsed another Lloyd, one not nearly so rigid, not nearly so sure of himself. The glimpse was a fleeting one. Smoothing down the lapels of his jacket and picking up the briefcase, he stepped back into character. A few locks of hair had fallen across his forehead. I brushed them back. He stood stiffly unresponsive.
    â€œI haven’t been very good company tonight,” I said.
    â€œThat’s perfectly understandable, under the circumstances. We’ve both been on edge.”
    â€œI do appreciate you, Lloyd. Honestly.”
    He did not reply, still a bit sullen.
    â€œAre you coming up?” I asked.
    He shook his head. “I have some briefs to go over. I want you to call me tomorrow night without fail, and I want you to keep me informed of any new developments. I’ll try to get down.” He unbent enough to give me a quick, perfunctory kiss. “No need to call a taxi. I’ll catch one at the thoroughfare. Good-bye, luv. Be careful.”
    He walked briskly away, vanishing into the darkness, his footsteps ringing loudly in the night silence. I went on upstairs, deftly eluding Mrs. Wellington, who had several dozen questions to ask. Mandy and Brent came in around ten, along with three other hearty males they’d picked up somewhere or other. Brent carried a huge wicker basket brimming over with expensive gourmet items. Mandy had a bag of oranges. With four robust males to assist, packing the car was simple. Then, somehow or other things got out of hand. George arrived, and then Craig, and then Randy, and a short while later the male cast members of a West End revue came trooping up the stairs. The farewell party lasted until one. At five o’clock in the morning, Mandy and I climbed sleepily into the car. We reached the outskirts of London just as dawn began to break.

CHAPTER FOUR
    Mandy took an orange from the bag and began to peel it with studied nonchalance. “I don’t mean to nag , pet, but we’ve been on this wretched back road forever. I realize this is your old stomping ground and all that, but are you quite sure you know where you’re going?”
    â€œOf course. Cooper’s Green is just a few more miles.”
    â€œI’ll believe it when we get there,” she said lazily. “You do see that lorry, luv?”
    â€œI see it.”
    â€œJust wanted to be sure. Try not to run it off the road.”
    As we rumbled past, Mandy waved at the startled driver. Finishing her orange, she settled back in her seat, and sighed contentedly. It had been a pleasant trip, the day sun-spangled, the sky a clear, pure blue. It was good to be getting away from the city, and, despite our reason for leaving, there was a holiday air. In the decrepit, much-battered Rolls, the back seat piled high with food, books, baggage, a typewriter, and bulging gray cardboard files, Mandy and I might have been highly sophisticated gypsies. As her driving was highly erratic and extremely hazardous, Mandy had been happy to let me take the