The Rouseabout Girl Page 3

  ‘That’s right,’ Sandy agreed. ‘I told Lanie the job was hers if she wanted it.’

  Once again she intercepted a brief clash of glances between eyes of a lively brown and a flint-like grey. Then Jard said tightly, ‘If it’s a promise, then that’s it!’ At that moment the shrill ring of the telephone rang through the room and Lanie bent to pick up the receiver.

  ‘Lanie!’ Trevor’s deep tones, ragged with emotion, came ever the wire. ‘Just thought I’d give you a ring to see if you’d changed your mind about me, about us?’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’ She was acutely aware of the watchful silence around her. She had a suspicion that the masculine tones were all too audible to the two men in the small room with her. ‘Everything’s just the same,’ she said quickly. ‘Trevor, I’ve got to go! I’m just leaving. I’m taking some work out of town ’

  ‘But you can’t go, just like that! Where can I get in touch with you? What—’

  ‘Goodbye!’ She slammed down the receiver and turned a flushed face to meet Jard’s impassive stare. He said coolly, ‘If it’s not convenient for you ’

  ‘Oh, it is! It is!’ It was the way he was looking at her, she thought hotly, that was making her feel flustered, causing her to run on quickly, nervously. ‘It was no one important. Just a man I used to be engaged to.’

  His thick dark eyebrows rose and his expression was colder than ever, if that were possible. ‘I get it.’ Lanie wondered wildly how it was that the commonplace words could convey a whole world of distrust. ‘Let’s go, shall we?’

  Lanie held her ground, her green eyes shooting sparks in his direction. Somehow she managed to school her tone to a light, uncaring note. ‘If you’re quite sure you want me to come with you?’

  ‘Want you?’ The words he flung at her were aimed to hurt. His obvious reluctance to have her along today had the effect of making her all the more determined to oppose him. He had no right to order everyone around as obviously he was in the habit of doing. It was high time that this arrogant, autocratic male was taught a lesson, and after all, what had she to lose? She had half a mind to call the whole thing off, but she wanted this job and if it entailed enduring the unfounded dislike of Sandy’s overbearing son—well, she could cope! She was tempted to poke out her tongue at the sardonic, mocking face. Instead she pushed her cap further down over one eye and said challengingly, ‘Suits me.’

  If only he wasn’t so wildly attractive! The crazy thought shot through her mind as she preceded the two men down the stairs. .

  Seated in the utility with its long front seat, Lanie found herself squeezed between Jard and his father. Now that the decision had been made she found a curious satisfaction in the thought that, like it or not, Jard was lumbered with her seated close beside him on the long journey ahead. She flung him a quick sideways glance, and as she took in the angry line of his lips she couldn’t resist saying, ‘Sorry I’m not fair, fat and forty!’ Her wide happy smile that invariably made immediate impact on masculine companions had no effect on him whatever. She tried once again. ‘Is that what you put an order in for at the employment agency?’

  ‘It’s not a matter of looks,’ he grated, ‘and it’s nothing to do with me!’

  He shot her a glance and her soft lips Armed. She wasn’t done with him yet, she vowed silently. He deserved something in the way of retaliation, the way he was treating her.

  ‘Thanks for picking up the range for me,’ she murmured sweetly.

  His lips twitched at the corners, but not with humour. ‘All part of the service, not my idea. There’s nothing wrong with the electric stove at home that I can see. Of all the crazy ideas! First time I ever came across a cook who carted her stove around the country with her!’

  ‘Maybe you haven’t met many of the species,’ she murmured. ‘Anyway, what else could I do with it?’

  ‘Sell the damned thing. Give it away!’

  At least, she thought, she had provoked him into speech. She affected a hurt note in her voice. ‘Oh, I couldn’t do that! It’s the only prize I’ve ever won in my life!’

  ‘Dad put me in the picture about it.’ His voice was deadpan. ‘According to him, you’re Miss Supercook—quite a reputation to have. Let’s hope,’ he drawled, ‘you’ll be able to live up to it!’

  The beast, she fumed inwardly, the hateful sarcastic beast! She would need to disillusion him on that score or she would really find herself in difficulties. She took a deep breath. ‘Actually, I’m not really—’

  ‘Three hundred miles to go! I take it you’ve never been down to our part of the country, Lanie?’ Sandy’s voice, louder than she had previously heard it, cut across her soft tones.

  ‘Never.’

  ‘It will be all new territory to you, then. A change of scenery as well as work?’

  ‘I guess so,’ she agreed. ‘A kind of holiday,’ and out of a corner of her eye caught Jard’s satirical glance. What was the matter with the man? A gorgeous-looking male like that must have been utterly spoiled by women, she mused. In view of the cooking situation on the farm, he was unmarried. Small wonder! No girl of today would put up with his autocratic ways. This particular girl loathed him, and that was just what he was in need of by the look of things, a level-headed girl like herself who happened to be immune to his forceful domination.

  The odd thing was that, hating him as she did, she had this awareness of his nearness, and she had to admit that his attraction was breathtaking. So lithe and muscular, with eyes that said more than his lips (unfortunately for her). And whoever started that mistaken idea that only dark men were attractive? She stole a sideways glance towards him as he swung the vehicle into a long line of city traffic. The clinging fabric of his cream body-shirt revealed the rippling muscles of broad shoulders and his strong profile was worth looking at (that was, of course, if you didn’t happen to know the man!) Oh yes, he was good-looking enough to be any girl’s dream, but not this girl! She admitted he had something, a male charisma that was shattering. Even she could feel it, but fortunately she was forewarned against that particular snare.

  Swept by conflicting emotions, she had been all but oblivious of her surroundings. Now, however, she realised they were taking a motorway leading out of the city and bright with its centre strip of flowering shrubs, scarlet bottle-brush and delicately tinted blossoms of oleanders. Presently the suburban homes of pastel shadings clustered on either side of the toi-toi-bordered road gave way to sundried paddocks with grazing sheep and cattle, and soon they had left the motorway to take the main road south.

  Lanie made no effort to break the silence that had fallen as they left the city boundaries behind. Why should she bother to talk to a man who was so definitely antagonistic towards her? After a while she became aware of Sandy’s enthusiastic tones.

  ‘You’ll enjoy the climate down our way, Lanie. No clouds in the sky, just the clear sunshine day after day. Once you’ve tried our air up in the hills you’ll never want to come back to town!’

  Flicking a swift glance towards Jard’s uncommunicative face, however, she wasn’t so sure on that point. Aloud she said smilingly, ‘I’ll take your word for it!’

  Sandy went on to describe life in the country region for which they were bound, but Lanie was scarcely aware of what he was saying. There was something about Jard that was definitely disturbing, especially when she found herself pressed close to his lean muscular body, conscious in spite of herself of a masculine magnetism that operated regardless of her positive loathing for the man! With an effort she wrenched her random thoughts aside and tried to concentrate on Sandy’s voice. What was he saying? Something about her new job?

  ‘You’ll get along fine and if you have any problems, Clara will soon sort them out for you.’

  ‘Clara?’ she queried.

  ‘She’s our housekeeper, and a jolly-good sort too. She’s been with us for donkey’s years.’

  ‘Oh!’ Her thoughts were busy. A housekeeper and a cook! Somehow it didn’t line up with the cot
tage on the farm.

  ‘She’s one of the family, just about,’ Sandy was saying, and Lanie gave a sigh of relief. Clara was no doubt a family friend who had made her home with them and to whom they had given the nominal title of housekeeper. For a moment there she had known a prickle of apprehension.

  All at once it occurred to her that she didn’t know anything, not anything, of what she was letting herself in for at the end of this journey, not for sure that is. A glance towards Jard’s clean-cut profile did nothing to ease her misgivings. Plainly he was furious about her being taken on to work for him and his father and wasn’t troubling to hide his displeasure. Lanie wasn’t all that keen on the idea of the new job herself, not since she had learned of the antipathy of Sandy’s ‘partner’. What had he expected? A portly motherly type of woman with her hair in a bun and no make-up? She giggled to herself. At least the last two attributes applied to her! Her mercurial spirits rose. And then there was Sandy, she had a champion in him. Something told her that for some reason she didn’t understand, Jard’s opposition in the matter of her employment had no effect whatever on his father. On the contrary.

  They sped on, passing at intervals small townships with their scattering of houses on either side of the main road. The hot sun was making spangles on the windscreen and everywhere was the dry scent of wildflowers and summer. Soon they were in sight of the little town of Te Kauwhata with its roadside stalls of luscious fruit, purple grapes, big yellow peaches, apples and pears. ‘No need to stop here,’ Sandy told her, ‘there’s swags of fruit in the orchard at home—kiwi fruit, avocado pears, the lot!’

  ‘Sounds fantastic!’ Privately the thought went through her mind that she would need a lot more than a supply of fresh fruit to compensate for working for the man with his hands on the driving wheel.

  Presently they dropped down a slope to follow the course of the Waikato river, wide and clear with its moored sand barges and willow-shaded banks.

  All at once they were in sight of bush-covered hills piercing the limpid blue of the sky and she knew they were approaching the town of Ngaruawahia with its swiftly-flowing river and high hills. On the highest peak of all was the burial place of Maori kings. It was as they approached the long graceful bridge spanning the swiftly-flowing green depths below that Lanie caught an unusual sound in the car motor. An enquiring glance in Sandy’s direction brought the response that he too had noticed it.

  ‘It’s been missing on and off for a while,’ Jard told her. ‘Could be the coil’s not doing its job, but it’s more likely to be the ignition.’ He was pulling in to the side of the road as he spoke and cars and trucks sped past them.

  Lanie watched as the two men got out of the vehicle and Jard flung open the bonnet to peer inside. ‘Doesn’t look to be anything particularly wrong.'

  ‘Just what I was thinking.’

  At least they appeared to be on good terms again, she reflected. It seemed it was the sight of her that had caused Jard to lash out at everyone in sight. Well, so long as she was warned he would find it no easy matter to push her around. For some reason she couldn't understand, he seemed to have a preconceived opinion of her. If only she knew what had put him in that frame of mind, she would know better how to deal with him—her soft lips tightened, for deal with him she would. It wasn’t for nothing she had been born with flame-coloured hair.

  At last Jard slammed down the bonnet of the vehicle. ‘I’ll take it in to the next garage and let them have a look.’ When they drew in to the garage, however, a mechanic told him that it would be a matter of testing the coil. Everyone in the place was flat-stick today. As he spoke vehicles were crowding in to the small space. It was the busiest day of the year for the garage with the Regatta Day crowds and vehicles needing attention, but he’d do his best. If they could call back in an hour or so?

  Of course, Lanie mused, the Regatta at Ngamawahia, the day when the seafaring tradition of famous Polynesian sea voyages came to life again at the annual Maori Aquatic Carnival held on the grassy banks of the Waikato River. It was an event she had never attended, and she had a sneaky wish that the truck repairs, would hold them up sufficiently for her to take in the river races and Maori culture competitions. Even from this distance she caught a glimpse of long canoes paddled by enthusiastic young Maori men. The blare of loudspeakers mingled with the shouts and cheering of the watching crowd gathered on the river banks and brightly-coloured sun-umbrellas blossomed like flowers among tents and side-shows. She would like to view the events—and what a welcome respite the visit would be from Jard’s disturbing presence!

  The stern set of his jaw told her he had no wish for the journey to be prolonged. She bet, though, that he would have felt differently in the matter had he not been forced to have her along as his passenger on the trip. Sandy’s pleasant tones seemed to tune in on her thoughts. ‘You can drop Lanie and me down at the river. We may as well have a look at the Regatta, seeing we have to fill in time.’

  ‘Right!’ He spoke with alacrity and Lanie thought, ‘He can’t wait to get rid of me, even temporarily. Well, that goes for me tool’

  They merged into the long line of traffic moving towards the small town with its backdrop of bushclad hills, violet-hazed on slopes away from the sun. Presently Jard drew up on the grassy reserve and Lanie and Sandy got out of the vehicle to join the holiday crowds that lined the banks of the swiftly-flowing river.

  ‘Aren’t we lucky,’ she smiled up at Sandy, ‘to be just in time for the highlight of the day!’ For over a loudspeaker came the announcement of the grand parade of the war canoes, the waka taua.

  He nodded. ‘Now you can see the clock turn back for a hundred years—’ At that moment his words were drowned by a wild cheering as the three great canoes swept downriver, the young Maori paddlers working in time to the rhythmic commands of their captain, the kai-tuki, standing amidships.

  The giant canoes with their intricately carved figureheads at stern and prow jostled for a lead, then, to the enthusiastic encouragement of the onlookers, the leading canoe swept on to victory. A race of smaller canoes followed, and Lanie laughed with the crowd around them as canoes raced over hurdles and occupants were spilled into the water.

  Afterwards they made their way among the picnic groups and from a small Maori boy Sandy bought luscious slices of pinky-silver watermelon nestling in a woven flax basket.

  Still biting into the crisp cool slice of melon, she strolled on with Sandy and they paused to watch the wood-chopping competition. Afterwards Lanie’s attention was drawn to a barge moored in the clear green river where dark-haired Maori maidens wearing the traditional flax skirts and taniko patterned headband sang and danced in rhythmic movements, their quivering hands simulating the shimmering of the summer’s heat haze.

  It was really entertaining, she thought, the aquatic events and side-shows, all in this happy holiday atmosphere. She should be enjoying it so much, and she was in a way, yet somehow she saw the events taking place around her with only half her attention. And why? Because lard’s sardonic face intruded on her thoughts and refused to be dispelled. She couldn’t seem to get him out of her mind.

  At that moment, as if conjured up out of her thoughts, she realised he was making his way purposefully through scattered groups to come to stand beside them.

  ‘Well,’ Sandy enquired, 'what’s the verdict?’

  His son looked, she thought, more angry than ever, if that were possible. ‘No good ... seems it’s a faulty coil right enough. They haven’t got one to fit in stock, the big day here has seen to that, and they tell me the best they can do is to send to Hamilton and get one out in the morning.’

  For a moment Sandy looked worried, then he shrugged his shoulders philosophically. ‘Can’t be helped. The only problem is,’ his eyes swept the crowded scene surging around them, ‘there won’t be a motel unit vacant anywhere for miles, not tonight.’

  ‘It’s okay, I managed to get a cancellation. I’ve left the bags there. I’ll take you over there r
ight now if you like, it’s just over the other side of the river.’

  His tone was tinged with a hidden implication Lanie couldn’t fathom. Unless—Surely he couldn’t have the crazy idea that his father had a personal interest in her, from which he had to be rescued? She brushed the thought away as too absurd to entertain. She became aware that Sandy was saying with a grin, ‘How do you feel about it, Lanie? Have you seen enough of the show for today?’

  She nodded in agreement, but underneath her thoughts were churning wildly. It seemed that only one of her male escorts showed some common consideration in asking her if she wanted to leave the colourful scene. As they made their way through the crowd in the direction of the parking area, Jard made no attempt to query her enjoyment of the display of Maori singing and dancing or even the race of the war canoes. He didn’t ask her a thing, but confined his remarks to Sandy. To Jard, she thought heatedly, apparently I don’t exist! No doubt he wishes I didn’t! If she found herself forced to spend the remainder of the day in his reluctant company she didn’t know how she was going to endure it.

  It transpired, however, that the ordeal was to be spared her. For after showing her to her room in the attractively arranged motel unit, he left her with the suggestion that they all meet by arrangement that evening in the dining room.

  Later in the day, Lanie changed out of her denim jeans and cotton top. She was having distinct reservations concerning that ‘time to be happy is now’ motif printed on her T-shirt. Whoever thought that one up, she mused crossly, had never met a man like Jard Sanderson, that was for sure! Taking from her suitcase a soft clinging silk dress in the one delicate shade of pink a redhead can wear successfully, she slipped her feet into white high-heeled sandals and surveyed with some satisfaction the effect of her soft green eyeshadow. At the dinner table in the crowded restaurant room, however, she told herself that she didn’t know why she had bothered with her appearance. So far as Jard was concerned, he did his best to ignore her, and she sensed that Sandy, loyally endeavouring to make up for his son’s ill humour, was finding the effort heavy going. To Lanie it was a relief when coffee was brought to the table and the meal came to an end. Shortly afterwards, on the excuse of giving herself an early night, she escaped to her room.