The door was unlocked so I just came up. I presume you must be Lisa Hayward?’
‘Tim’s uncle?’
Lisa stepped back a pace in shock as she realized that this was the ogre she had heard so much about, the hard-hearted trustee who had thwarted Tim’s burning desire to study art and insisted that he do economics at Melbourne University instead. Subconsciously she realized that she had been expecting a white-haired, fire-breathing old dragon of about eighty, but this man was relatively young. Certainly no more than thirty-five or thirty-six, with a hard, tough, youthful physique and only a faint silvering of the temples and an indefinable aura of authority as emblems of the power he held over his nephew. As Lisa continued to gape at him, he spoke again, like a lawyer cross-examining a witness.
‘I assume you must be Lisa Hayward?’
‘Yes, how did you know?’ she demanded defensively.
‘I’ve heard a lot about you,’ he replied.
There was a steely note in his voice, which sent a shiver of misgiving through her. For a moment he looked at her as if she was something that had crawled out from beneath a log, so that her chin came up and her eyes flashed dangerously. Then she made an effort to see things from his point of view. After all, it was hardly surprising if he disapproved of her, considering the circumstances in which they had met. In a desperate attempt to regain her poise she wrenched the sari out from under his foot and swathed herself in it.
‘I—I’m sorry about this,’ she stammered. ‘Tim and I were just about to…’ Her voice trailed away as she realized suddenly that the painting lessons she was giving Tim were supposed to be a deadly secret. Matt Lansdon gave her a sardonic smile.
‘Don’t explain,’ he begged. ‘I can imagine what you were just about to do. You’re Tim’s lodger, I gather? So tell me, what’s the arrangement? Do you pay him rent and share expenses or something of that sort?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Lisa unhappily. ‘Well, that is…I don’t exactly pay rent. We have another arrangement.’
‘Indeed? How interesting. You know, you make me more and more anxious to see Tim and have a little talk to him, Miss Hayward. And perhaps you and I should have a chat, too. Although you might like to get some clothes on first?’
Lisa’s cheeks burned. Little chat, indeed! There was no way she wanted to talk to him! Any fool could see what he thought was going on between her and Tim, and she didn’t see why she should suffer the ordeal of stammering out a lot of incoherent explanations that wouldn’t make sense. Why couldn’t Tim have the courage to come right out and tell his uncle the truth? That he hated economics and wanted to study art and that Lisa was trying to help him achieve his ambition in return for having a roof over her head? And where was Tim, anyway? How long could it possibly take to go to the pub across the road?
At that moment the telephone rang. Clutching her sari protectively around her, Lisa lunged at the receiver. A muted uproar of chinking glasses, bar-room conversation and the click of billiard balls immediately assaulted her.
‘Lisa?’
‘Tim,’ she cried gladly. ‘What are you doing? You said you’d only be gone five minutes!’
Tim’s voice gurgled down the line at her. Lazy, amiable and already slightly slurred.
‘Don’t get upset, gorgeous,’ he urged. ‘I ran into Barbara and some of the others at the pub and we’re all going to have a counter meal and then go on to a party at Tony’s place, so I guess the painting session’s over for today. Oh, Tony says you can come to the party with us, if you want. I don’t suppose you’re interested, though, are you?’
The invitation was lukewarm and Lisa’s reaction was exactly the same. She thought of the horseplay, the drinking, the numerous dogmatic arguments about the meaning of life that always seemed to go on at student parties and immediately felt as though she was approaching her hundredth birthday.
‘No, thanks, Tim,’ she said crisply. ‘I don’t feel like a party and you can’t go right now, either. Your uncle Matt is here and he wants to have an urgent talk with you.’
There was a muffled groan at the other end of the line.
‘Uncle Matt? Hell, I’m out of here! See you later, Lisa.’
‘Tim, he wants to speak to you! You can’t just hang up—’
Suddenly Matt shouldered her aside and grabbed the phone from her hands.
‘Timothy? I’m warning you—’
There was a distant click at the other end of the line and Matt gave a snort of exasperation. His eyes were narrowed to mere slits of cold blue light as he put down the receiver, and the set of his mouth left Lisa in no doubt at all that he was very angry.
‘Young fool!’ he growled. ‘When is that boy going to learn that he can’t escape trouble by ducking out of a difficult situation? He hasn’t even got the guts to stand by you, and I’m supposed to believe that he’s mature enough to run his own life! Heaven preserve us, I think Sonia’s right for once!’
Lisa stared at him with a puzzled frown. What on earth did he mean by talking about Tim standing by her? And what did Tim’s mother, Sonia, have to do with it? Was Matt Lansdon unbalanced? He didn’t look unbalanced! He looked like a powerful man unused to being thwarted and very annoyed about it. She forgot these speculations as Matt suddenly turned his anger on her.
‘Well, Tim may have escaped for the moment,’ he said in a hard voice. ‘But that still leaves you, sweetheart, and you and I have a lot to discuss. I suggest you begin by getting dressed in something more substantial than a sheet of cling wrap.’
His contemptuous tone touched Lisa on the raw. After all, it wasn’t her fault that Tim had hung up, leaving his uncle in the lurch, and she certainly hadn’t invited Matt Lansdon to enter the house and see her naked.
‘I’ll get dressed when and if I choose to!’ she flared. ‘May I remind you, Mr Lansdon, that this is my home and you are an uninvited visitor here? What’s more, I’m not your sweetheart and I don’t like being spoken to in that tone of voice.’
His reply was low, silky, threatening.
‘And may I remind you, Miss Hayward, that I am the legal owner of this flat? Tim is my tenant, not you, and he has no right to sublet without my permission. I could throw you out on the street at this very moment if I chose to do so.’
Lisa was taken aback, but didn’t show it. The news that Matt Lansdon was the legal owner of the flat came as a complete surprise to her, but that wasn’t the real crux of the problem. She was beginning to realize that she had leapt quite blithely into her rental arrangement with Tim without having any idea of the possible repercussions. At the time it had all seemed gloriously simple. Free art lessons in exchange for free board. Yet there had been several occasions since then when Lisa had wondered whether the benefits of free accommodation really made it worthwhile putting up with Tim’s often juvenile behaviour. And if she now had to suffer the blazing antagonism of his uncle, as well, the whole situation would become utterly impossible.
‘I see,’ she said levelly. ‘In that case, perhaps you would like me to pack my belongings and leave right now?’
Matt’s eyes skimmed over her, not with
