Authors: Jessica Steele
`You said you weren't much of a cook?'
`I lied,' she answered. `Though, since it wouldn't seem right to me to raid my great-aunt's pantry, anything we get from the village shop will probably be cooked already.' Somehow, and Lydie could almost pinpoint it exactly, it seemed to her then as if their relationship, friendship, whatever it was, had changed. He seemed even more sensitive than he had previously been and, as they took a stroll up to the village store, Lydie felt she could talk to him about anything. Not that she had any secrets to keep; he probably knew more about her family finances than she did.
It was a fact that they seemed in harmony for once. Talking non-stop on occasions, about any subject that came up, and at other times not talking at all. They were eating lunch of oven heated frozen chicken and mushroom pie, with potatoes, broccoli and carrots, when Jonah asked her about her boyfriends. She did not wish to let the side down, so thought to admit to a few. `There haven't been too many,' she replied.
`I'm to believe that?' He obviously didn't.
`It took me longer than most to get over the crippling shyness of adolescence.'
He smiled across at her. `Which makes you a rather special person, Lydie Pearson. When you would have been about sixteen years old, and I came to your house to ask your father for a loan, you must have known why I was there and, despite your desperate shyness, you seemed to want to put me at my ease.'
`I asked you if you would like some tea.'
`You were charming,' he said, and her heart danced. `What about Charlie?' Jonah asked in almost the same breath, and Lydie stared at him.
`What about Charlie?' she asked, for the moment mystified.
`You were going to give him the "big E",' Jonah reminded her.
`Oh!' she exclaimed, startled. `I meant to ring him.' She had-to ask him how he'd fared with his office colleague, Rowena Fox.
`You forgot?' Jonah challenged.
She didn't want to fight with him. `It isn't important.'
`You don't sound too involved?"
'How about you? Given that you're not hunting any more?"
'My last couple of-um-sorties-came to an abrupt end when the words "moving in" first crept into the conversation.'
Lydie laughed. `That had you running scared.'
`Too right!' he grinned. `Oh, Lydie, it's good to see you laugh.'
Jonah helped her with the dishes, and helped her through sad reflective moments too when, as happened through the day, the sadness of losing her great-aunt would unexpectedly well up and choke her.
`Your father sold the family business, I believe,' she said unceremoniously at one such moment. She knew Jonah would understand, but she just did not want to cry in front of him.
`The sale was completed four years after your father so very kindly backed my venture into fibre optics,' Jonah agreed, and, going on purely to get her over her sad moment, Lydie felt, `It was fortunate that when I knew that another day spent in the retail business would drive me out of my mind, my brother, Rupert, showed a keen interest in entering the family firm.'
`You were able to leave and set up in business that went well?' He nodded. `Though I have to say that my father didn't take it too well.'
`He refused to back your fibre optic venture?'
Jonah paused, and she felt privileged when he confided, `My father and I were at odds with each other for a while-I wouldn't ask him for money. In fact,' he went on, `when later Rupert decided he wanted out of the business too, and my father started to consider the offers he'd many times had for his business and then decided to sell, I didn't expect to receive any money.'
`But you did,' Lydie said softly, knowing it was so.
`I should have known better. Whatever our differences, my father has always been fair with Rupert and me. Rupert received a quarter of the proceeds-so too did I. "
'And you at once paid my father back.'
`But only in money. I owed him more than that. Wilmot had faith in me when the money institutions were saying they'd gone as far as they could.'
They finished the dish-washing and putting everything away with Lydie realising that it was because of that faith her father had shown in him that Jonah had given her that cheque. `I will pay you back-that money you gave me,' she told Jonah sincerely. And, while they were on the subject, `Have you thought of anything yet? Other than my making monthly payments to you from my earnings?" 'Let's not talk about it today, Lydie,' he answered sensitively.
And she smiled at him, but felt he should know that her father did not take the matter lightly. `While the debt is mine, I really want you to understand that my father is a most honourable man,' she told Jonah earnestly.
`I know,' he replied quietly.
But that did not seem enough. `He would have sold the house, but...'
`He was ready to sell Beamhurst Court?' Jonah seemed very much surprised.
`It's all he has left to sell.'
`But it's been in your family for ever!"
'My father was desperate,' she stated. But, as Jonah had confided a little about his father, Lydie felt she could confide about her mother's role in the non-sale of Beamhurst Court. `It hasn't come to selling yet. My mother is sticking out against selling-she's objecting most strongly.'
`Your mother loves Beamhurst Court as you do?"
'It's not so much that, I think,' Lydie confessed. `She wants it for Oliver.'
`And does Oliver want it? I heard he was having some five star place built in the grounds of the Ward-Watson home?"
'Unless he drastically changes his opinions, he wouldn't touch Beamhurst with a bargepole,' Lydie answered, guessing that with Oliver and Madeline's plans general knowledge at the wedding, Jonah had picked up a snippet about the new house there. But Lydie was feeling strangely shy all at once. 'You'll be wanting to get off home now, I expect,' she said quickly, feeling very conscious that she had monopolised so much of his time and, while not wanting him to go, feeling guilty because of it.
But it seemed Jonah had nothing pressing that day to get back to. `Don't give me hints, woman,' he teased. `Tell me straight out.' She smiled, but could not find an answer. And he asked, `Do you want to be on your own, Lydie?'
She shook her head. `No,' she said.
`Then we'll go for a walk,' he decreed.
It was for the most part a silent walk, though Lydie did think to ask, `What were you doing following me yesterday? I thought you'd be on your way to your Hertfordshire home.'
`I had business in your area. I anticipated you'd leave around six and thought we'd go in tandem-me leading the way in case you got lost. I was tucked in near the crossroads when you shot by. Do you want me to apologise again for being so swinish to you?'
She smiled at him and shook her head, just grateful to have him with her for this short time. They walked on, Jonah busy with his thoughts, and Lydie overcome with sadness on seeing the bench near the church where she and her great-aunt had sat on one of their evening strolls.
She felt saddened that she would never sit on that bench with Aunt Alice again. And, as other memories arrived, saddened that she would not again go with her to some Saturday afternoon function at the village hall. Then, lastly, a feeling of guilt came to trip Lydie up. She and Jonah were on their way back to the house when a shaky kind of sigh took her, and Jonah caught a sympathetic hold of her hand. `Bad moment?' he asked kindly.
`Guilt,' Lydie replied unthinkingly.
`All part of the territory when you lose someone you care for,' he assured her.
`Is it?'
He let go her hand and smiled down at her. `Want to talk about it, Lydie?"
'Oh, you know. Generally I could have visited her more than I did.'
`You stayed overnight with her Saturday,' he reminded her quietly. `And didn't you say you'd seen her again only on Thursday?'
`I came over on Monday and stayed until Thursday.' Lydie could feel herself going pink as she remembered. She looked up and saw Jonah was looking down at her-he couldn't help but notice her embarrassed colour. She knew then that she had some confessing to do. `I've done a terrible thing,' she owned.
`Are you likely to go to jail for it?' he enquired lightly.
`Hopefully not,' she answered, and then blurted out, `I can't stop telling lies. I never used to,' she hurried on. `Before I took that cheque from you lies and my tongue were strangers. But ever since I just seem to open my mouth and all these lies pour out!"
'Oh, my word-should I worry?" 'I have involved you,' she admitted.
His tone did not change. `Perhaps you'd better tell me what's been going on,' he suggested mildly.
Lydie thought for a moment, and then said, `I had intended to come and see Aunt Alice on Tuesday last anyway-and that's where some of the guilt I feel comes in-I came on Monday instead. But only partly for Aunt Alice. More specifically, I came on Monday mainly because I was afraid if I stayed home yet more lies would come tumbling out. For the same reason I stayed on here with my great-aunt until Thursday.'
`Afraid to go home?"
'Something like that. I wanted to avoid my tongue running away with me.' Jonah was silent. He was waiting-and she did not want to tell him. But his very silence seemed to be compelling her to go on. `I've told the most howling lies!' She paused- Jonah wasn't helping her out. `On Monday. You know, when you rang. Well, I went to give my father your message, that you'd rung and wanted to speak with him, and before I could say more he was ready to sprint back to the house to take your call. Anyhow, I stopped him by saying you were going out of the country but that you'd talk with him next week.'
`So far you don't appear to have told any fresh lies,' Jonah commented dryly.
She was glad to feel a touch niggled with him, but the feeling did not last. How, after what she had done, dared she be in any way annoyed? `Anyhow, my father suddenly looked so defeated, so at the end of his rope, so as if-as if he's thought himself to a standstill trying to find some solution, that I couldn't bear it. He was saying something about this could not go on, and looked so much as though he was worn to his roots and couldn't take another day of it, so-um...' Oh, grief. `I couldn't take it, Jonah. I told him-that you had a proposition to put to him that you said would be the answer.'
She ran out of breath, and waited for Jonah's wrath to fall about her ears for her nerve. But, instead of being furious with her, he politely enquired, `And what is this proposition, Lydie? Am I not entitled to know?'
Perhaps his wrath would have been better, she mused. `I haven't worked anything out yet. I just wanted him to have some respite from it all. I thought that while you were out of the country, and until the two of you meet-which I can see now that you're going to have to-it might give him about a week of not worrying so much. Give his poor head a chance to get perhaps a little rest.'
`He was looking a little less stressed out last night than when I saw him last Saturday,' Jonah acknowledged. 'You'd better tell me word for word exactly what you said to him in my name.'
Lydie felt a bit pink about the ears again at that last bit. `That's about it, I think,' she replied. `A spark of life seemed to come to my father's eyes, and I found myself lying-I just couldn't seemed to stop-and telling him that you wouldn't say what your proposition was, but that whatever it was you were certain, if he agreed to it, that your proposition would be the answer to all his worries.'
`And he bought that?"
'He said he'd thought and thought but he couldn't see a way out of the hole he was in, but that if anyone could then you would be the one to do it.'
`And that was all?'
Lydie, having arrived back at her great-aunt's door without knowing it, thought hard. She shook her head. `Dad asked if you wouldn't tell me more than that, and, while I couldn't regret having put hope back in his eyes, I started to worry that if he pressured me to say more I might end up telling him even more and bigger lies.'
`So you decided to make yourself scarce.'
`I came here,' Lydie agreed. And, as she knew she had to, said, `I'm sorry, Jonah. I've behaved disgracefully. But my punishment will be that I must now go home and take that ray of hope from my father's eyes by confessing what an outrageous liar he has for a daughter.'
Whether Jonah accepted her apology she knew not, but he stood looking down at her for long moments, and she would loved to have known what he was thinking. Then, his expression still thoughtful, `Don't confess anything just yet,' he instructed.
Her eyes widened. `You've thought of something?' she enquired eagerly, getting used now to the way her heart misbehaved from time to time when she was with him. `You've thought of some kind of proposition? Some kind of-?"
'Leave it with me,' Jonah cut in.
`You've thought... ?"
'Something's filtering away inside the old grey matter,' was all that he would say.
`But...' She started to probe anyway, but could see he wasn't going to be drawn, no matter how much she pressed. So she had to let it go, but did ask, `You're not mad at me?'
Jonah gave her a hint of a smile. `Any lies you've told, Lydie, were not for yourself, but to try and make life more bearable for your father than it is just now.' She simply stared at him, marvelling at him understanding. Then he had done away with the subject, and was asking, `Any chance of a cup of tea before I go?' They went inside and Lydie made some tea, reflecting that she had never envisaged last Sunday that she would spend time with him this weekend in this way. Thoughts of her great-aunt were never very far away, however, her passing away so recent, and again Lydie thought sadly, if fondly, of her great-aunt.
'I'd better get going before I outstay my welcome,' Jonah said, finishing the last of his tea and getting to his feet. And while Lydie was wishing he would stay for ever, but starting to be positive he must have a date that night, she got up and went to the door with him. `You've no objection if I attend Miss Gough's funeral?' he asked.