Their Scandalous Affair

‘You mean the man cooks, as well?’ said Helen enviously. ‘Can I send my Tom round to him for lessons?’

Avery joined in the laughter, pleased that life had taken an upward turn for her friend, but on the leisurely stroll home she couldn’t help feeling wistful as she thought of Frances spending Sunday with her Philip. Avery Crawford would spend hers as usual—catching up on laundry and household chores.

As she watched a late burst of fireworks light the sky nearby she thought with nostalgia of Sundays past, some spent at home with her mother for a rest and some home cooking, others in London, where she’d been part of a group of friends who ate brunch together, or drove into the country to some eating place reviewed in the Sunday glossies. But when she’d met Paul he’d demanded her undivided attention. By the time their relationship had ended Avery’s group of friends had dispersed to different jobs and locations, and she’d been needed at home with her mother.

There’d been no time for socialising during that first harrowing year. It had taken all Avery’s time and energy to keep the business going while she cared for her mother, who’d insisted on keeping to the work she loved as long as she could, despite a rapidly deteriorating heart condition. Before the year was out Ellen Crawford had been dead, and, swamped and sodden with grief, Avery’s first instinct had been to run away, back to her life in the City. But out of loyalty to her mother she’d stayed on to complete standing orders, and coped with more work as it came in. Eventually she had decided that as a fitting memorial to her mother she would expand the business. And now, two years on, it was a commercial success. But Avery was increasingly conscious of a lack in her life.

She sighed. This was Jonas Mercer’s fault. He was the catalyst. She had long ago given up any idea of returning to the City. That part of her life was over. And until she’d forced her company on Jonas at the Angel she’d been content to jog along in the comfortable little rut she’d made for herself back in her home town. He was the first man in years to raise even a spark of interest in her. Not that there was any hope of seeing him again. The heir apparent of Mercom would send underlings to the town in future.

Avery came out of her reverie to realise that the smell of smoke was growing stronger. And the glow in the sky was too constant for fireworks. With sudden dread she began to run. As she skirted the deserted cattle market a group of youths rushed past her in the opposite direction. One of them tripped, his anguished face clearly visible for a moment under the street lamp before he fled after the others. A blood-curdling wail of sirens filled the air, and Avery raced in panic towards the glow—then gave a screech of horror as the Stow Street shops came into view. The betting shop next to Avery Alterations was on fire.

By the time she’d been allowed through the cordon at the actual scene the Fire Brigade and the police were in full control, and Sergeant Griffiths turned from consultation with one of his constables to make sure Avery kept well back as hoses were directed at the betting shop.

‘Don’t worry, Avery, the fire’s already contained,’ he said firmly. ‘The betting shop’s in pretty bad shape, but yours is intact, as far as I can tell. You’ll have smoke damage, though.’

‘Any idea what happened?’ she panted, gasping for breath.

‘PC Sharp’s just been talking to the manager of the Red Lyon on Cheap Street. Apparently some lads were letting off fireworks on the waste ground behind the shops earlier. One of their rockets must have gone through the betting shop roof.’ He smiled grimly. ‘One of them had a social conscience and rang for the Fire Brigade before they scarpered.’

Avery turned to smile in rueful sympathy as Harry Daniels, the betting shop manager, came running to join them. ‘How are you, Harry?’ she asked, as he stared, stunned, at his blackened premises.

He turned to her, shaking his head. ‘Bloody furious, love. I’d like to get my hands on the little devils that did this!’

‘Now, then, no vigilante stuff, Harry,’ warned Sergeant Griffiths. ‘Leave it to the professionals.’

Eventually the fire chief told Avery she could make an inspection, and, escorted by two firefighters armed with torches, Avery looked round her premises, her heart sinking as she examined the smoke damage on the wall shared with the betting shop.

‘Don’t worry—no broken glass or structural damage,’ said one of her hefty young escorts. ‘Just needs a lick of paint on the party wall.’

‘Better check on the sewing machines,’ warned his colleague.

Avery thanked them warmly. ‘I’ll take them home with me. And as much fabric as possible.’

There were plenty of willing hands to stow the bolts of cloth and two of the machines in her car, and to save a return trip for Avery the sergeant ordered one of his constables to transport the other machines, and anything else she wanted, to Gresham Road.

It was nearly four in the morning before Avery said goodbye to the constable, who had insisted on making tea for her before doing his fetching and carrying. Avery thanked him warmly as he left and finally trudged off to bed, heaping curses on Guy Fawkes for leaving a legacy of firework displays and bonfires every November 5th from 1605 onwards.

After what felt like only a few minutes’ sleep the phone woke her up again.

Oh, God—what now? ‘Hello?’ she croaked.

‘Avery?’ said an urgent voice.

‘Yes?’

‘Jonas Mercer. Are you all right?’

‘Oh, hi. Yes, yes—I’m fine.’ She cleared her throat and struggled upright. ‘Unlike my shop.’

‘Never mind the blasted shop,’ he said roughly. ‘Were you there when the fire started?’

‘Not in the shop. I was walking home from the other side of town. I saw the blaze in the distance and ran like the wind when I heard sirens. It was a lot worse for the betting shop. Harry Daniels, the manager, was still in shock when I left for home with my sewing machines—well, with two of them. Tony brought the rest.’

‘Who’s Tony?’

‘A strapping young police constable who heaved all my other machines into the house and even made me a cup of tea.’

‘Good for him.’ There was silence for a moment. ‘I’ll be there to make an inspection tomorrow. I assume you carry insurance?’

‘Of course.’

‘Good. I need to do some juggling with my diary first thing tomorrow. I’ll ring you some time during the morning to fix a time.’

‘Jonas—’

‘Yes?’

‘Thank you.’

Avery rang off without specifying what she was thanking him for, and heaved herself out of bed to make for the bathroom, where the red-eyed, pallid apparition in the mirror sent her diving into the shower.

While she sluiced the smell of smoke from her hair Avery made a mental list of things to do. Normally Frances would have been the first one to contact, but knowing that her friend would rush round right away, instead of going off to lunch with Philip, Avery rang Helen instead. And, just as she’d hoped, Helen’s husband—who serviced their machines on a regular basis—was good-natured enough to give up part of his Sunday to lend a helping hand.

Avery left a message on Louise’s phone, then threw on jeans and a sweater and managed to swallow some coffee before Tom Bennett arrived with his anxious young wife in tow.

‘We packed the boys off to Tom’s parents for Sunday lunch, so I came to help,’ announced Helen. ‘Gosh, Avery, what a shock! Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine. But poor Harry Daniels was in quite a state last night.’

‘Do they know who did it?’

‘Some local lads let off fireworks on the waste ground behind Stow Street. A rocket must have got out of hand and set fire to the betting shop roof.’

‘And they ran off without being identified, of course,’ said Tom, and hoisted his tool bag. ‘Right then, Avery. Bring on the machines.’

She led him to the dining room, now transformed into a temporary workshop. ‘I’d brought the outstanding orders home for the weekend as usual, thank God, and the wedding gear had already been delivered to the Keith-Davidsons.’

Helen shuddered. ‘Just imagine those frilly pink taffeta jobs covered in black soot.’

‘Don’t! By the way, I brought all the bolts of fabric home I could. Let’s have a look at them.’

After every yard of it had been examined Avery decided that after a few lengths had been cut off each roll the rest of the fabric would be fit to use again in an emergency.

‘But the insurance will cover replacements, so I’ll order more right away.’

The machines were eventually confirmed as in good working order, and after making a big fry-up for a late lunch Avery saw her helpers off, resolving to buy Tom a bottle of the most expensive single malt she could find by way of thanks.

She was yawning over her insurance policy later when Louise rang.

‘What’s up, Avery? We’ve just got back from Sunday lunch with the parents.’

When Avery had explained Louise exclaimed in horror, and promised to be at the house first thing in the morning. ‘Does Frances know?’

‘No. I couldn’t spoil her lunch with Philip. I’ll ring her this evening.’

‘It might be a good idea to do it sooner than that. She might hear it from someone else before then.’

Louise was right. Frances heard it on the local radio while she was helping Philip clear up, and rang before Avery could contact her, fizzing with indignation that she hadn’t been informed sooner.

‘Why spoil your day, Frances? There’s nothing for you to do at this point. Tom came round to check the machines, and Helen came with him to help—’

‘Louise, too, I suppose?’ said Frances ominously.

‘No, she was with her family at Sunday lunch with Grandma as usual. I’ve only just spoken to her. Don’t be cross. Please.’ To her embarrassment Avery’s voice cracked, and Frances, immediately contrite, assured her she was worried, not cross.

‘I’ll be there in five minutes—’

‘You most certainly will not! Enjoy the rest of your day with Philip. I had no sleep to speak of last night, and I’m desperate for a good long nap.’

‘If you’re sure?’ said Frances doubtfully.

‘Very sure. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll need you far more in the morning.’

Avery had been telling the simple truth about needing a nap. She stacked the dishwasher, made herself some tea, and sat at the table with the Sunday paper to drink it. When she found her eyes were crossing she trudged up to her room, then groaned in frustration. Her bed reeked of smoke.

After she’d heaved the mattress over and put fresh linen on it she was reeling with fatigue. She undressed, and crawled under her duvet at last, feeling as though she could sleep until next morning. And when she woke at long last, she found to her astonishment that she had.

CHAPTER THREE

AFTER the longest sleep she’d had in years Avery felt a lot better by the time her workforce arrived, raring to go with whatever was demanded of them. Helen and Louise started work at once on the most urgent jobs, with the stock of thread kept in the house, while Avery drove to town with Frances to see what could be salvaged from the shop.

Frances exclaimed in horror when they arrived in Stow Street. The betting shop stood out like a blackened stump in a row of perfect teeth. The other shopkeepers, out in force to view the damage, greeted Avery with sympathy. But to her relief she found that by daylight the damage to her own premises was less extensive than expected.

‘It looked so awful by torchlight I was ready to abandon the place and find somewhere else,’ Avery said, as she investigated. ‘I’m not sure about the electricity yet, so we’d better not try it.’

‘It’s just the one wall that looks so bad, but with a thorough cleaning and some fresh paint the place can soon be sorted,’ said Frances firmly, and went into the storeroom to check on supplies of cotton and thread. She emerged triumphant. ‘It’s all fine.’

Avery breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Let’s get as much as possible back to the ranch, then.’ She stuck a typed notice in a prominent place in the window—to inform her usual customers, and any new ones, that business would carry on as usual at 14 Gresham Road until repairs were made in Stow Street—and went outside to study the effect.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Frances. ‘The others will keep a lookout for stray customers. We shouldn’t lose too much business.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ said Avery. ‘A Mercom representative is arriving some time today in person to sort things out.’

Frances shot her a glance as she got in the car. ‘Is that who I think it is?’

Avery nodded. ‘Jonas Mercer in person.’

‘Well, well—so it’s not all bad news, then! Make sure you grovel.’

It was a hectic morning. After Avery’s consultation with her insurance company constant phone calls came in, with messages of sympathy from friends and regular customers. Expecting every call to be from Jonas, she grew edgier by the minute as the morning wore on—a fact commented on when the owner of the smartest dress shop in town arrived to commiserate.

‘You look a bit stressed, darling,’ said Christine Porter. ‘I volunteered to bring the weekly delivery so I could check on you. Here you are, girls.’ She handed over two garment bags of clothes. ‘We did good trade on Saturday. I’ve promised most of the shortening jobs by Friday, as usual. But there’s a jacket to alter for you, Frances, and an evening gown and a very pricey knitted coat in need of your particular magic touch, Avery. No sweat; the customer is willing to wait. Charge what you like.’

Avery sighed. ‘I may have to if it takes time. Want some coffee?’

Christine declined regretfully. ‘Must go back now I know you’re all fine. I’m glad there wasn’t too much damage to your shop,’ she added, and gave a little shiver. ‘Thank heavens the little devils didn’t fire a rocket through my place.’

Avery took the garments up to the dress rail she kept in her sewing room, and groaned as she hung up a bead-encrusted evening gown with layers of chiffon skirt and a white knitted coat—both of which would take hours of work to shorten by hand. She went to her bedroom to renew the lipstick she’d chewed off during the morning, and spun round in alarm when Frances burst into her room without knocking.

‘Come down quickly. He’s here!’ she hissed, pulling Avery from the room.

‘Who’s here?’

‘Mr Mercer, the representative from Mercom, has just arrived,’ said Frances, in tones meant to carry to the man standing in the hall below. She gave Avery a dig in the ribs and whispered, ‘Grovel!’

Avery strolled downstairs, smiling brightly as Jonas moved forward to meet her, immaculate and imposing in a suit which fitted so perfectly it was obviously custom-made. ‘Good morning.’

‘Good morning, Miss Crawford,’ he said briskly. ‘I hoped you could spare an hour for a working lunch.’

‘Now?’

His lips twitched as the long-case clock beside him chimed the half-hour after noon. ‘As good a time as any.’

‘Of course,’ she said politely. ‘Will you hold the fort, Frances?’

‘With pleasure,’ said her friend promptly.

Avery walked out of the house telling herself that she was twenty-eight—well, twenty-nine—years old, and it was utterly stupid to behave like such a girl because Jonas Mercer had turned up out of the blue to surprise her instead of ringing to make an appointment. She wasn’t a dentist.

‘How are you, Avery?’ he asked, as he handed her into a sleek, dangerous-looking piece of machinery very different from the modest estate car she’d bought to accommodate dress rails full of garments.

‘I’m fine now. It’s surprising what a good night’s sleep will do. I had very little on Saturday night.’

‘I can well believe it.’

‘I’m glad of this opportunity to thank you,’ she told Jonas later, as they turned into the cobbled courtyard of the Fleece. ‘Your plans for Stow Street, I mean. I apologise for jumping to the wrong conclusion last time we met.’

‘You were one angry lady,’ he said wryly, and casually reversed the car into a space Avery would never have attempted. ‘I’ve booked a room here this time.’

So he was here for one night, at least. ‘I’ve heard that it’s very comfortable.’

‘It’s bound to have one disadvantage,’ he said blandly. ‘I doubt that a beautiful woman will ask to share my table tonight.’

Not this one, anyway, thought Avery with regret. ‘You never know your luck.’

Jonas reached into the back of the car for a newspaper, and brandished it at her as they crossed the cobbles. ‘I left the crossword for you. Or have you solved it already?’

Avery eyed him with scorn. ‘With the kind of day I’m having?’

He glanced down at her. ‘You’re wound up pretty tight, Ms Crawford.’

‘With good reason,’ she reminded him as they reached the bar.

‘Red wine?’ asked Jonas.

‘Not during a working day. Mineral water and a ham sandwich, please. I’d better grab that table over there. I can’t stay too long.’

From her seat by the window Avery watched him chatting to the barman, amused when she realised that her grey pinstriped trouser suit was almost the twin of the one worn by Jonas. For once fate had been kind enough to let her look well groomed before he arrived, if not in the best of tempers. Waiting for his phone call had put her in a bad mood.

Frances’s order to grovel had been timely. Avery gave a mental shrug. Her apology had not been exactly impassioned, but she’d made it. And now, with time to view Jonas Mercer objectively, she felt the same irresistible tug of attraction. His tan had faded, and his hair was darkening to what was probably its winter shade of tawny brown. It was thick and glossy, and had been expertly cut since she last saw him. Unlike hers, it curled only at the tips. Also he was taller than any other man in sight, which was a huge point in his favour on a day when she’d chosen to wear boots with four-inch heels.

‘Is it difficult today?’ asked Jonas, eyeing the blank crossword as he sat down beside her.

‘I’m not in the mood.’

‘You’re still angry with me,’ he observed.

‘Not still. Again,’ she corrected.

‘Because I didn’t ring before I arrived?’

‘In the circumstances, yes,’ she said, and drank some of the water he’d poured for her.

‘I tried. You were on the phone. I left a message,’ he informed her succinctly. ‘Did you check?’

Avery flushed guiltily.

‘You’ve obviously had a busy, stressful morning,’ he said kindly, like a parent to a fractious child.

‘Which doesn’t excuse my bad manners. Sorry!’ She gave him a rueful smile. ‘Have you inspected the damage to Stow Street yet?’

‘No. I came straight to you. You can walk me through the repairs you need before I drive you back.’

‘Right.’ She sighed. ‘I know I’m lucky to have a business I can run from home, but I’ll be glad to have the house to myself again.’

‘Has the fire affected trade?’

‘Not yet. We get a regular supply of work from the dress shop, and the main department store, and I travel to private homes for fittings—so that side of things shouldn’t suffer. But I’ll miss out on the jobs people pop in on their way into town from the car park.’

They were interrupted several times during lunch, by people sympathising about the fire, and Avery introduced Jonas each time, purposely omitting any qualifying description.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d want your official capacity broadcast to all and sundry,’ she said in an undertone.

‘It’s not a problem,’ he assured her, and gave her a look which brought her antennae erect. ‘I don’t mind who knows I represent Mercom—or the conclusions your friends jump to about our relationship, either. Just for the record,’ he added, ‘is there someone likely to resent me as a possible usurper?’

‘No,’ she said flatly, pouring coffee with a steady hand. ‘I told you that early on in our brief acquaintance.’

‘It still surprises me.’

‘Why?’

Jonas leaned nearer, a look in his eyes which caused her considerable unrest. ‘Because, Avery Crawford, I was attracted to you the first time I laid eyes on you—even in no-nonsense clothes with your hair scraped back.’

‘And despite the fact that I was trying to pick you up?’ she said, her voice tart to hide her pleasure.

‘That too,’ he admitted with a grin. ‘But one look at you the following night, with that glorious hair loose and those lips painted red as sin, and I thought of gypsy violins—and sex.’

Avery put down her coffee cup with a bang and stood up. ‘Time to go,’ she said tersely.

Jonas got to his feet, smiling down at her. ‘You look like Business Woman of the Year today, but my reaction’s just the same.’

Avery waved at an acquaintance as they left the bar, then stalked across the courtyard with as much speed and dignity as her heels and the cobbles allowed. She was annoyed because secretly—she hoped it was secretly—his remarks had done serious damage to her self-possession.

They were on their way into town when he took his hand from the wheel for an instant to touch hers. ‘Would you like to come down off your high horse and listen to Mercom’s plans for the land I’ve purchased?’

She threw him an exasperated look. ‘Of course I would.’

‘The project’s been brewing for a while, but until my recent visit I had never been here myself. I left the opening moves to others, while I was occupied with far bigger fish than providing a small market town with a cinema complex.’

Avery stared at him, eyes wide. ‘A cinema? I thought you were building a warehouse.’

‘It was the original intention. But after I’d had a look at the place myself I had a word with my father, then spoke to the local council and suggested something of use to the community.’ Jonas turned into Stow Street and made for the car park. ‘The necessary parking space is right here, and the nearest cinema is fifteen miles away.’

She smiled warmly. ‘That’s such a brilliant idea!’

‘One I intended to share with you over dinner at the Walnut Tree that night. But circumstances conspired against me, one way and another,’ he said wryly, and killed the engine.

Avery stared at him in remorse. ‘I can’t believe I forgot to ask. What happened about the accident?’

Jonas shrugged. ‘It was messy, and put paid to one of our vehicles, but the driver escaped with a couple of fractures— one of them to his jaw. The culprit was a van which shot a red light, but by some miracle no one was killed.’ His eyes met hers. ‘I thought about ringing later that night, but in the end decided against it.’

Avery nodded morosely. ‘I don’t blame you. I was a total shrew.’

His lips twitched. ‘You were very scary. So was that room. It reminded me of a painful interview in my headmaster’s study after I was caught climbing into the wrong dormitory.’

‘Was that such a hanging offence, then?’

‘Pretty much. The dormitory was in the local girls’ school.’

Avery gave a snort of laughter.

Jonas grinned. ‘It wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d been caught climbing out, but as it was I got all the flak and none of the fun. Rather like that last evening with you,’ he added.

‘I refuse to do any more apologising,’ she said flatly as they walked towards her shop. ‘Grovelling doesn’t come easy to me.’

‘I can tell! Just for the record, I would have liked to outline Mercom’s plans that night at the Fleece, but at that stage certain people still had a few dotted lines to sign on.’ He shot her a sidelong glance. ‘You seemed angry out of all proportion to the circumstances. Why?’

Avery unlocked the shop, ushered him inside, and closed the door before she answered. ‘When I was told Mercom had bought the land, and might demolish the shops in Stow Street for all I knew, I was hurt because you hadn’t been straight with me. I met a lot of devious men in my time in the City.’ She looked at him squarely. ‘I thought you were different.’