Green Lightning Part 4

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, if I'd come into your bedroom and found you in the raw, you'd have just said goodnight, just like that!'

Heath bent his head. 'We're not talking about me.'

'No.' Helen sounded bitter.

'We're not even talking about last night,' he added flatly. 'It was what happened yesterday morning I was apologising for. I'm sorry. After reflection, I realise it was my fault, not yours.'

Helen expelled her breath weakly. 'It was n.o.body's fault! I know I'm not the first girl you've kissed; and I don't expect I'll be the last.'

Heath stifled an oath. 'Helen, you're not a girl like that. Not just any girl.

You're my niece.' He thrust a piece of cutlery savagely aside. 'I want thras.h.i.+ng, not you.'

Helen moistened her lips uncertainly. 'Heath, we're not related-'

His green eyes flashed. 'Aren't we?'

'You know what I mean.'

'I know what you're saying,' he amended grimly. 'However, I consider you are my niece, Helen. Anything else would be totally unacceptable.' He uttered a harsh laugh. 'Can you imagine what my mother would say if I told her what had happened?'

Helen's nails dug into the damask tablecloth. 'Well, I'm not sorry,' she declared tensely, looking away from his brooding air of hostility, and Heath thrust back his chair in angry rejection.

'Then you should be,' he exclaimed bleakly. 'I can only a.s.sume this relations.h.i.+p you've been having with young Ormerod has given you a taste for melodrama. Just don't try your wiles on me, Helen. I may still change my mind about that finis.h.i.+ng school.'

'Oh, stop threatening me with that!' Helen burst out heatedly. 'It's not fair.

Everything I say, everything I do, you're always holding that over my head. If you want to send me to Geneva, then send me. It's getting to the point when I don't care any more. Just stop giving me ultimatums!'

Heath's mouth compressed. 'Do you mean that?' he asked tersely, and Helen's balloon of confidence exploded.

'Yes! No! I don't know,' she answered unsteadily. 'Oh, leave me alone, can't you? I can't think straight any more.'

'As you wish.'

Heath would have left the room then, but the appearance of Mrs Gittens with a fresh pot of coffee forestalled him. 'Here we are,' she said busily. 'Your bacon and kidneys are on the way. Are you sure you wouldn't like some orange juice as well? Or maybe some cornflakes with strawberries?'

Helen's eyes widened. It was obvious from Mrs Gittens' conversation that Heath had spoken to her before coming to the morning room, and she sighed in unwilling relief that he was not going to leave her on such a sour note.

'Just the kidneys and bacon,' Heath was saying now, reluctantly resuming his seat and pouring himself a cup of the aromatic brew Mrs Gittens had provided, and the housekeeper turned reprovingly to Helen.

'And how about you?' she asked, tutting at the uneaten slice of toast on her plate. 'I don't know what's wrong with you, I really don't. Off your food yesterday, and scarcely touching a bite this morning!' She shook her head.

'I've told your uncle. I said to him, I didn't know what was the matter with you. Never known you to refuse good food in the past. Always had a healthy appet.i.te, in my experience.'

Helen exchanged a puzzled look with Heath. Was that why he had apologised? she wondered. Had Mrs Gittens' concern about her loss of appet.i.te led him to believe she was fretting over their encounter? With a feeling of frustration, Helen pushed the plate of toast aside and turned determinedly to the housekeeper. 'I've changed my mind,' she said. 'I will have some kidneys and bacon, after all!' arid then felt her cheeks turn scarlet, as Angela Patterson sauntered into the room.

Helen didn't enjoy her moment of victory. Indeed, when the kidneys and bacon arrived, she had the greatest difficulty in doing justice to them, with both Heath and Angela looking on. But at least she had disconcerted him, she thought afterwards, and it had been worth Angela's scornful observation to know that Heath had been thwarted.

Nevertheless, she waited a little tensely for Angela to tell her employer about their visit to Manchester the day before, but apart from saying that they had done a little shopping, Angela was surprisingly reticent. Perhaps she didn't want to get her into trouble, mused Helen doubtfully, but such a consideration did not seem characteristic.

After breakfast, Heath excused himself, and once again Helen was left to entertain Angela. 'I think we'll spend the morning in the garden,' Angela decided, looking with some satisfaction at the weather. 'It will give us time to talk, like we did yesterday. I want to know all about your friends and relations.'

'Wouldn't you like to play tennis?' suggested Helen, feeling bound to be civil after Angela's behaviour, but the other girl shook her head.

'Tennis is too strenuous,' she exclaimed. 'We'd get all hot and sweaty. It's not at all the occupation for a hot day. No, we'll sit by the pool, as I said. Just give me time to go and change into my swimsuit.'

Left alone, Helen hunched her shoulders uneasily. She wouldn't have minded a game of tennis. It would have helped to work off the huge breakfast she had just consumed. She knew Angela only wanted to pump her about her uncle really; about his friends and relations, not hers; and while sunbathing by the pool sounded appealing, talking about Heath right now did not.

On impulse, she left the house through the French doors on to the patio, and circled round to the garages. As usual Miles was there, his head tucked inside the bonnet of the Land Rover, but he turned at the sound of her footsteps and grinned when he saw who it was.

'Hi,' he said, lifting an oily hand, and Helen nodded a greeting.

'Hi,' she answered, going towards the garage that housed the Honda.

'Don't let me interrupt you. I just feel like some fresh air. If anyone comes looking for me, tell them I've gone for a ride, will you?'

'Is anyone likely?'

She grimaced. 'Maybe.'

'Heath?'

'I don't know. He's gone to the mill, hasn't he? His car's not here.'

'Oh, sure,' Miles made the concession. He left about half an hour ago. I thought you were supposed to be looking after the blonde bombsh.e.l.l.'

Helen shrugged. 'Is that what you call her?'

'It's what old Arnold called her,' Miles grinned. 'You must admit, she is dishy.'

'I'm glad you think so.' Helen realised she sounded b.i.t.c.hy, but she couldn't help it, and Miles made the wrong interpretation.

'Don't worry,' he said. 'I like my women with a bit more flesh upon their bones. And I like brunettes, too, particularly ones who are bouncing with s.e.x- appeal!'

Helen wheeled the motorbike out of the garage and swung her leg across the saddle. 'Heath's not still mad at you, is he?' she asked, suppressing the impulse to tell him she didn't care about his opinion, and Miles shrugged his shoulders.

'I guess not. He doesn't exactly enthuse over my presence, if you know what I mean, but he's civil.' He sighed. 'For heaven's sake, it's not as if he hasn't known what's been going on.'

Helen frowned, pausing in the act of starting the engine. 'What has been going on?' she asked, arching her dark brows, and Miles cast his eyes heavenward, as if praying for tolerance.

'Come on, Helen,' he exclaimed, wiping his hands on a rag he had pulled out of his overalls' pocket. 'You know. We've been pretty close since you came back from school.'

'We're friends, if that's what you mean,' retorted Helen shortly, not liking his att.i.tude, and Miles came towards her, shaking his head.

'Oh, is that all?' he countered, covering the s.p.a.ce between them, and not liking the look in his eyes, Helen stood on the starter. To her relief it fired at the first attempt, and before Miles could prevent her, she had skidded out of the yard and across the gravel path. By the time he reached the corner of the building, she was speeding down the drive towards the gates, and in her rear-view mirror she saw him turn away, a scowl upon his face.

To Helen's relief, Heath did not return at lunchtime, and when she came down to the dining room, newly showered and changed after her morning spent outdoors, Angela was already at the table.

'Where have you been?' she demanded, her feathers evidently ruffled by the girl's disappearance, and Helen decided to tell the truth rather than make up some elaborate story.

'I rode over to the farm,' she admitted, helping herself to a slice of melon, and Angela's lips thinned.

'Rode?' she echoed. 'On horseback, you mean?'

'No. Motorbike,' replied Helen cheerfully. 'Heath bought me a Honda for my sixteenth birthday. It's only a small machine, but Miles has fixed it so it really can accelerate.'

'Miles? Oh, you mean Ormerod,' concluded Angela scornfully. 'The young man your uncle found you fooling around with the day I arrived. He told me about him. He's one of the reasons I'm here to chaperone you.'

Helen's face flushed angrily. 'Heath told you that?'

'Of course.' Angela broke open a fresh roll with slender fingers. 'He had to give some reason for your disappearance immediately after my arrival. I must admit I don't admire your taste. A garage mechanic-honestly! Doesn't he have dirty fingernails?'

Helen was seething, as much with the realisation that Heath had discussed her affairs with Angela, as with Angela's remarks themselves. But Angela was here, and Heath wasn't, and Helen lost her temper.

'At least he knows what it is to do a decent job of work,' she flared. 'He's not a parasite-living off other people!'

'As you do,' put in Angela maliciously, savouring the taste of the fruit.

'Haven't you been living off your uncle, as you call it, ever since your parents were killed?'

Helen's throat hurt. 'That's not fair!'

'Why isn't it fair?' Angela arched her pencilled brows mockingly. 'Your uncle invited me here to do a job of work, as he saw it. He's not paying me for living off him.' She uttered an infuriating laugh. 'What are you suggesting, Helen?'

'You're not related to him!' retorted Helen painfully, and then put her fork aside as the obvious rejoinder occurred to her. Nor was she, though thank goodness Angela didn't mention that, but that didn't stop her from wondering exactly how accurate the other girl's a.s.sessment might be.

The sudden ringing of the telephone in another part of the house was a welcome diversion, and Helen looked over her shoulder anxiously, praying that it might be for her. It was. Mrs Gittens' appearance in the doorway, and her impatient comment that he ought to know better than to ring at mealtimes, had Helen instantly out of her chair, and she hurried across the hall to where the lifted receiver was lying. 'Heath?' she said huskily, unaware until that moment how badly she had wanted to hear his voice. 'Oh, Heath, I'm so glad it's you!'

'Why? What have you done?' Heath's tone was mildly tolerant, and Helen breathed a sigh.

'I've not done anything,' she exclaimed. 'I just wanted to talk to you, that's all. Is that so amazing? We don't talk much any more.'

'Have you been crying?' demanded Heath suspiciously, detecting the uneven tremor in her voice. 'h.e.l.l, what has Angela been saying to you now?

Can't I leave you alone for five minutes without you two getting at one another's throats?'

'We're not-at least, it wasn't anything Miss Patterson said,' declared Helen doggedly. 'I-why are you ringing, Heath? Are you going to be out for dinner again?'

'No,' Heath responded abruptly, and then more evenly: 'Helen, you might as well tell me what's wrong. We may not get a chance to talk this evening.'

'Why not?'

'Because we're having company, that's why not,' replied Heath shortly.

'I've invited Greg Marsden and his wife for the weekend. He's going to Germany on Monday, as I believe I told you, and I want to make sure he's properly briefed before he leaves.'

Helen caught her lower lip between her teeth. 'Are Mark and Emma coming, too?' Mark and Emma were the Marsdens' fifteen-year-old twins, and Helen always enjoyed their uninhibited company.

'I'm afraid not.' Heath doused her sudden surge of enthusiasm. 'They're staying in Devon at present, with their grandmother, but you can invite some of your friends over for Sunday brunch, if you have a mind for it.'

'Thanks.' Helen sounded as disappointed as she felt. 'But most of my friends are away right now. It is July, Heath. Most people go on holiday in July and August.'

Heath sighed. 'You know I've told you I'll try and get away in September.'

'You promise?'

'I promise.'

'Just the two of us?'

'Oh, I don't know about that.'

'Why not?' Helen's cry was desperate. 'Last year we didn't get away at all, and you promised faithfully we'd have a holiday this summer!'

'I don't remember saying anything about us going alone,' retorted Heath flatly. 'It wouldn't be suitable, would it? I mean, you can imagine what people would think.'

Helen moistened her lips. 'Does that matter?'

'Yes, of course it matters.'

'It's never bothered you before.'

'You've never been seventeen before.'

'So from now on we're not to spend any time alone together?'

Heath expelled his breath impatiently. 'I didn't say that. But in any case, another year you'll probably want to spend your holidays with someone of your own age. You could have gone to St Moritz with the Kesslers last Christmas, if you hadn't been so stubborn. And even at Easter, you had the chance to go to Barbados.'

'Without you,' exclaimed Helen tautly, and heard the low oath Heath tried to stifle.

'Of course without me,' he agreed crisply. 'Helen, you're seventeen!

You've got to break away some time.'

She caught her breath. 'Would you rather I got a job?'

'A job?' Heath sounded blank now. 'What has a job got to do with anything?'

'Just answer the question. Would you prefer it if I started to earn some money to support myself?'

'What?' Heath swore again. 'Helen, what's got into you? What do you want money for? Don't I give you a big enough allowance, is that it? Do you want a raise?'

'No!' Helen sniffed. 'Oh, it doesn't matter-'

'Like h.e.l.l it doesn't.' She had his full attention now. 'Helen, do you want to get a job, is that it? Are you trying to tell me you want to be independent?'