Free The Red Cliffs by Eleanor Farnes Page A

found an apron, wrapped it round her slim form, ran a plentiful supply of hot water into the sink and began to clean that. She had not long started when the front door opened, and somebody came into the hall whistling cheerfully. Alison stopped what she was doing and listened. The whistling suddenly stopped. No doubt he had seen the suitcase. She waited grimly.
    The kitchen door opened.
    “ Alison! ” he exclaimed. “ Well, of all the ...” She looked at him, and he had the grace to be abashed, embarrassed.
    “ Gosh, ” he said, “ this has torn it. Why didn ’ t you let me know you were coming, and I ’ d have had all this cleaned up. ”
    “ Do you call this, ” she swept her hand round the disordered kitchen, “ keeping an eye on my house? Don ’ t you think you ’ ve overstepped the bounds a bit? ”
    “ I know, I know, ” he said. “ I can see just what it looks like to you, Alison, but honestly, I have an explanation. ”
    “ I can ’ t imagine how you ’ re going to justify this. ”
    “ I know it was an unpardonable liberty. My landlady ’ s son walked in one night, unannounced, out of the blue, home from Australia. He ’ d emigrated but couldn ’ t seem to get on out there. Well, I was in his room and I had to get out; and all the rooms I looked at were either beyond the pale or too darned expensive. And suddenly it occurred to me that you wouldn ’ t mind if I spent a night or two here. ”
    “ And you ’ ve been here ever since, ” said Alison.
    “ No, I ’ ve been away on a couple of jobs. And I ’ ve been laying down some concrete paths for Mrs. Simms at Foxhole Farm, and she put me up there. It was just that I didn ’ t get around to clearing up, when I was here. But I ’ ll do it now, Alison. You go and sit do w n and I ’ ll have the place to rights in no time. ”
    Alison went on cleaning the sink until she had it spotless and shining.
    “ Now those dishes, ” she said. “ Bring them over, Roger. ”
    He obeyed with alacrity, but when he would have started drying them she sent him to the linen cupboard for clean cloths. He emptied ash trays, carried the binette outside and emptied it, swept the kitchen floor. When the kitchen was back to some semblance of order, he stood before her and smiled down at her.
    “ Still angry with me, Alison? ”
    “ Of course, ” she said, but her indignation had all disappeared.
    “ Don ’ t be angry. ” His voice was persuasive and charming. “ I honestly didn ’ t think you would mind. Tom wouldn ’ t have minded—he often put me up here. ”
    “ You should have asked. You should have kept it clean. ”
    “ I know, Alison. Mea culpa. But you do forgive me, don ’ t you? ”
    She looked at his laughing dark eyes and she could not keep the smile from the co rn ers of her mouth.
    “ You don ’ t deserve it, ” she said.
    “ Which would make your forgiveness all the more noble. ”
    “ All right, I forgive you this time. ”
    “ I won ’ t do it again, ” he said with mock humility. “ You won ’ t have the chance. I ’ m here to stay. ”
    “ Good. That ’ s splendid. I couldn ’ t hear nicer news than that. ” Suddenly he was serious. “ You ’ re a sport, Alison, ” he said. “ Thank you. ” And held out his hand to her.
    She offered hers and they shook hands, but when she would have taken hers away again, he held it tightly in his own; and an odd embarrassment filled Alison, almost an unease, and as if it communicated itself to him, he released her hand quickly, and turned away.
    “ May I stay to supper? ” he asked. “ I ’ ve brought a chicken with me. ”
    “ It will take too long to cook. I ’ m starving, ” she said.
    “ It ’ s cooked. Mrs. Simms gave it to me. She ’ s very pleased with me at the moment. She thinks I made a good job of her paths for a very reasonable price. ”
    “ Oh, that reminds me. You ’ ve made a good job of my path, too, to the garage. You must tell me ‘ what I owe