Rachel Lindsay - Rough Diamond Lover Read online

  Rachel Lindsay - Rough Diamond Lover

  They not only came from different parts of the country. Their views belonged to different centuries!

  "Maybe that's why I've never found you real;" Jake said slowly. "Never met a lovely looking female yet who didn't do something to me! And then you came along—figure like a goddess and hair like fire — but you leave me stone cold."

  Laura's hand shot out with a stinging blow to his cheek. Then, appalled, she wondered how she could have let him rile her into behaving like a shrew!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Laura Winters glanced at the clock on her desk and gave a sigh of relief. In half an hour she would be free to go home and forget the pressures of her work. It was a wonderful thought.

  "Having a doze?'' a voice inquired, and she looked up to see a nurse of her own age perched on the edge of the desk.

  "According to my working hours," Laura retorted, "I should have left here ten minutes ago!"

  "So what's keeping you?" Jill Hayes grinned.

  "My own stupidity! Working out diet sheets and ordering and checking the food is a full-time job without standing in as cook for two days a week."

  "Serves you right for offering," Jill replied. "Matron won't let you stop now. You're stuck with being cook every time Maria leaves the kitchen!"

  "I couldn't let the patients starve!"

  "How do you think this place managed before you arrived? Matron used to get in a relief. And she'd do the same now if you weren't so daft!"

  "I enjoy the cooking, really," Laura admitted.

  "So do the patients. They always know when you're doing it. Lady Bartlett practically licks her plate bare!"

  "A bare plate is all she'll be getting for the next ten days," Laura said dryly. "She has to lose twelve pounds."

  "She should have gone to one of those fancy health spas," Jill sniffed. "I hate this place being used by rich old women who just want pandering."

  "Your prejudice is showing, Jill. Lady B. has an acute heart condition and needs more than pandering."

  The young nurse flushed at the reprimand. "You are sharp today!"

  "Sorry," Laura said quickly. "I'm usually like this by the end of the week." She glanced at the clock again. "I must fly or I won't get my shopping done.''

  Rising, she ran her hands through her hair; mahogany red in color, with a natural wave, it made a striking foil for her deep blue eyes and creamy skin.

  "You're far too glamorous to be a dietitian," Jill commented. "If I had half your looks and figure I'd be a model."

  "It would bore me to tears."

  "Not once you reached the top. You'd meet so many exciting people you'd never have a chance to be bored."

  "By people, I suppose you mean men?"

  "What else!"

  "I'm not interested in men," Laura said. "At least not for the next few years."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I've spent too long studying to give it all up for marriage."

  "You needn't give it up. Your husband would probably appreciate the extra cash!"

  "I'd have to stop once I had children. I've seen what happens to a woman when she tries to cope with a job as well as a home and family."

  "You're too pessimistic," Jill stated. "When you fall in love, all your theories will disappear through the window!"

  "And I'm going to disappear through the door," Laura said, making her way toward it. "If I don't hurry, the shops will be closed."

  "Dress hunting?"

  "Food hunting."

  "Try the new delicatessen next to Woolworth's. They have super pork pies."

  Laura stopped in her tracks. "The day I feed my father ready-baked pies I'll retire from work and hand back my degree!"

  "You and your home cooking," Jill mocked. "Well, don't let me keep you from the kitchen stove!"

  Within a few minutes Laura had left the nursing home and was hurrying through the small supermarket where she usually did her shopping. Turning her back on the frozen food, she chose fresh lamb chops and haricot beans, ruefully admitting to herself that her father would have been equally happy with cheese and pickled onions. Indeed, left to fend for himself, that was probably what he would have chosen, and would then no doubt have wondered why he was up at night with indigestion! Brilliant engineer though he was, nothing she said could make him realize that the human body was the most intricate piece of construction on earth—certainly meriting the same care he lavished on his machines on the factory floor! Not that she expected him to change at this time of his life. Grantley Engineering was all-important to him, more so since he had become a widower than at any time before. Sometimes she even wondered how high she and her twin brother, Tim, rated in his affections.

  Still, she should be grateful to Grantley's, not resentful. Had it not been for the company, her father might never have recovered from her mother's sudden death. Even now, the thought of her mother made Laura feel a pang of bitter regret that a drunken driver should have robbed her of the one person in whom she had been able to confide.

  Pushing away her thoughts she made for the subway, where she strap-hanged the six stations to Belsize Park and wondered how Tim was enjoying living in a small Midland town. At least he could walk to work and had no rush hour to fight through!

  "And no sister to mollycoddle him, either," had been her father's comment when his son had left Grantley's and accepted a job with its biggest competitor. "You spoil him as much as your mother did. Never think from the way you act that you're twins."

  "Women are always older than men!"

  "That wasn't what I meant—as you well know! Tim's relied on you too much. It's time he learned there won't always be someone ready to help him if he gets into trouble."

  "But he hasn't been in trouble," she had replied. "He just hasn't got too much sense."

  "Then he must start to acquire it. I'm not speaking idly, Laura. Tim must stand on his own feet."

  There had been a tone in her father's voice she had not understood, but though she had questioned him, he had evaded replying, beyond reiterating his belief that it would do Tim good to work away from home and in a job not under his father's aegis.

  Absorbed in thoughts of Tim, she hardly noticed the passing of time, and only a commuter's instinct made her glance up as the train reached her destination.

  Savoring the fresh air, she wended her way through the tree-lined streets to the quiet cul-de-sac where she lived, stopping abruptly as she saw her father's car outside the small apartment building they shared with six other tenants.

  It was months since he had arrived home ahead of her, and convinced he was ill, she raced up to the top floor.

  Her father was seated in the living room reading the evening paper, and one look at his face allayed her fears. The dark shadows had not lifted from under his eyes, but his thin features were irradiated by a lively excitement that took ten years from his age, reminding her of the man he had been before his mother's death.

  "You look as if you've won a sweepstake," she said, dropping her shopping basket and moving over to him.

  "Nearly as good as," he admitted. "Leastways to me."

  As always when he was excited or under stress, her father's Yorkshire burr became more pronounced, recalling for her the days of her childhood, before years of living in London had added a southern mask to his voice.

  "You'd better be quick and tell me what it is," she teased. "If you go on holding it back your accent will be to thick for me to follow you!"

  "I've been promoted," he said loudly. "Grantley's is opening a new plant for the production of electronic equipment and the board has asked me to take charge of the technical side."


  "That's fabulous!" Tears choked Laura's throat. "It's about time they recognized your ability." She moved over to the sideboard and produced a bottle of sherry and two glasses. "How about a drink to celebrate?"

  Digging a worn leather pouch from his pocket, John Winters methodically began to fill his pipe. "No sherry for me, lass. I'd rather have a beer."

  With a grin Laura went into the small but compact kitchen and returned with a can. By the time she had poured its contents into a glass, her father had his pipe going and was puffing away contentedly.

  "Beer," she said with a faint sigh. "Honestly, dad, you should be drinking champagne! In charge of a new plant—I can't believe it."

  "I'm not in charge of the plant," he corrected. "Just the technical side of the production."

  "That's the most important."

  "It's big," came the satisfied response. "I'll not deny that. And it'll give me a chance to put some of my ideas into practice. With a factory that's already in operation it wouldn't be so easy, but this Yorkshire plant is the most modern in Europe and—"

  "Yorkshire!" Laura exclaimed. "They're not sending you there?"

  "You talk as if it's Siberia!"

  "It might just as well be. You surely can't want to go up north?"

  "It's where I was born."

  "But you've lived in London for years. You'd hate to leave it."

  "Are you asking me or telling me?" came the quiet question.

  "I thought I was stating a fact," Laura said equally quietly." But it seems I was wrong.''

  "Not wrong, my dear; but not right, either." Her father leaned forward, cradling the bowl of his pipe in his palm. "It's never made much difference to me where I've lived. My life was my wife and family and my job. But since your mother's death I've concentrated on my work and I'm ready to go wherever it takes me."

  "Tim and I are still here," Laura protested. "Leastways I am, and Tim will come back to London. He'll never be happy anywhere else."

  "Laura, Laura," her father sighed. "Do you think if you say something often enough you 'll make it come true? Tim won't come back to London for a long while yet, and even if he did, I doubt if he'd want to live with us."

  "You've still got me," she said quickly. "I know I can't make up for mother but…"

  "I wouldn't want you to. As it is you spend too much time with me. You should mix with more people of your own age."

  "I've got loads of friends," she stated. "If I don't go out every night it's only because I prefer to stay here."

  "It isn't right. You should concentrate on a young man—not your father!"

  "I haven't found anyone as attractive as you," she teased.

  "Perhaps you will in Eddlestone."

  "Eddlestone?"

  "Where the factory is. It's not far from Manchester, so you would at least be seeing something of Tim at weekends."

  "I've never even heard of Eddlestone."

  "You will soon enough," her father said placidly. "Grantley's new plant will put it on the map."

  "Albert Schweitzer put Lambarene on the map, but only a saint would want to live there!" The moment the words were out Laura knew she should have held her tongue, for her father's face changed color, the pinkness receding and the pleasure going with it. "I'm sorry, dad. I didn't mean it like that."

  "There's no need to apologize," he said heavily. "If I hadn't been so pleased with my own luck I'd have realized it isn't the sort of place for you. I won't let you come with me. It wouldn't be fair. Stay on here and share the flat with one of your girl friends. That way you'll get the chance to live your own life, same as Tim."

  The suggestion was so exciting that Laura was scared even to think of it. After her mother had been killed she had promised herself she would always take care of her father, and she must not allow the thought of freedom, nor the appalling idea of living in an intellectual wasteland, to dissuade her from her vow.

  "I wouldn't be happy if we weren't together," she said. "I'd worry about you."

  "I'm quite capable of looking after myself."

  "Really? Then how come you boiled an egg for an hour and then wondered why it wasn't getting soft!"

  John Winters chuckled, then quickly became serious. "I meant what I just said, Laura. London's your home and I've no right to take you away from it. I'll get someone in to take care of me. The house will be big enough."

  Again Laura experienced a sense of shock. "What house?"

  "The one that goes with the job. Plus an increase in salary, too. So there won't be any problem about money. I can manage perfectly well on my own."

  "No," she repeated, adding quickly, "besides, I'll be that much nearer Tim."

  This last remark did more to dissuade her father than anything else she could have said.

  "You and your brother," he grunted. "You'll be wet nursing him when he's eighty!" He took a contented draw at his pipe. "I'll enjoy showing you the moors. Once you learn to know Yorkshire the way I do, you'll soon forget Hampstead Heath."

  She smiled and nodded, wishing she could be as sure of her reactions as her father was. Beautiful though the moors undoubtedly were, nothing could compensate her for the ambience that pervaded the narrow, winding alleys and hilly streets of Hampstead; the carnival atmosphere of the Heath when the fair was installed. And that was only a small part of what she had here. There was the rest of London, too! Concerts at the Festival Hall; ballet and opera at Covent Garden; cinemas, theaters, galleries…

  "… and of course there's your job," her father said.

  With a start Laura realized she had missed the first part of her father's comment. But the tail end of the sentence was sufficient for her to follow what he meant.

  "I'll have to give at least a month's notice," she said. "I can't leave them in the lurch."

  "I wouldn't expect you to. Anyway, it will give me a chance to go up and get things settled."

  "Do you think I'll find work in Eddlestone?" she asked. "I can't imagine it having a nursing home like the Harley Clinic."

  "Nor can I," he grinned. "But they've a good little hospital and dietitians are pretty hard to come by. I doubt if you'll have much to worry about."

  "Then everything's settled.'' A sense of loss swept over her and retreated, leaving her bereft of emotion.

  "You can still remain here if you want," her father said once more. "I can manage perfectly well on my own."

  "But I can't. I need you, dad. People are more important than places."

  She knelt and rested her head on his shoulder. His hand came up and stroked her hair, a gesture he had often made when she was a child. Feeling the movement she knew she had made the only decision possible. People were more important than places, and though the places would be missed and wept for, she would have to do her weeping alone.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Laura's first small sight of Eddlestone—what she could glimpse of it through a curtain of rain as the train drew into the station—confirmed her worst fears. London, bright with autumn sunshine, had been at its tantalizing best when she had left that morning. But rain had set in as the train sped through the flat Midlands, and now the steady downpour seemed as much a part of life as the grimy bricks and mortar of the narrow, cramped houses that edged the railway line.

  Trying to muster a smile, she greeted her father. He had come to Eddlestone three weeks earlier and already she noticed the change in his voice and manner.

  "You look wonderful, dad,'' she said, hugging him.

  "It's the fresh air." He looked at the rain and grinned. "It was perfect until a few hours ago."

  "Oh yeah?"

  "Oh yeah," he mimicked and, picking up her suitcase, led the way to a pale blue Ford.

  "I didn't know you had a new car," Laura said as they drove off.

  "Courtesy of Grantley's! It goes like a rocket, too. We'll be home in no time."

  Home! Laura grimaced at the word, knowing that this mean-looking town with its gray streets and gray skies could never be anything other than
alien to her. A wave of misery engulfed her. How long could she endure living here? If only she had listened to her father and shared the flat with a friend. But even as she chided herself for not doing so, she knew conscience would never have permitted her to leave him.

  "Look over there, Laura." Her father's voice jerked her away from her glooming. "A year ago all this was wasteland."

  Peering out of the window she saw raw, red-brick houses, set like scabs on muddy, rain-sogged earth. Not a single tree or bush relieved the landscape, though an occasional root, straggling dried fingers across the ground, bore testimony to a withered hope. As if anything could live and grow in this awful place!

  "This isn't where we're going to live, is it?" she asked, gulping down her fear.

  "No. The company's given us a house on one of the older estates. These are for the new employees."

  "As compensation for coming here?"

  "The men don't need compensation for being given the chance to work," her father said dryly. "Anyway, new housing estates always look dreary—especially in the rain."

  The muddy roads gave way to paved ones as an older suburb of Victorian architecture came into sight. Then they were bowling along the High Street that boasted a church, a pub, cinema turned bingo hall and a variety of small shops.

  "Will we be passing the factory?"she asked.

  "No. But you'll be able to get a glimpse of it in a second."

  The car turned left down another road lined with old houses, some of which seemed to be in the process of demolition, and a pile of rubble gave way to a low stone wall that skirted a cemetery.

  Her father slowed and pointed across the tombstones to a rooftop lit by the harsh glare of electric lights that traced the vast acreage of a modern factory plant: a checkerboard of glass-windowed buildings set in orderly squares like greenhouses in a giant's garden.

  Astonished, she stared at them. "I never realized it was so big."

  "Now perhaps you can see why I was so pleased to get the chance of working here. There isn't an electronics engineer in the country who wouldn't give his eyeteeth to be in my shoes."

  The pride in his voice filled her with wry wonder. How single-minded men were!