‘I could have gone to prison,’ Lark sobbed helplessly, suddenly overwhelmed by the terror of those dreadful months. ‘That’s what he wanted to happen to me. He wanted me to be sentenced to prison,’ she hiccuped between sobs.
‘He?’ Mrs Mayers questioned uncertainly, coming to sit beside her and putting a comforting arm round her shoulder.
‘The prosecuting counsel,’ Lark told her. ‘He believed that I was guilty. I know he did. I could see it in his eyes.’
She looked up at Mrs Mayers, and was astounded to see a rather odd expression in her eyes—an almost guilty expression, she realised.
‘No, no, I’m sure you’re wrong. Oh, dear, let me call Cora and she can make us a fresh cup of tea. You mustn’t get upset like this. You must put it all behind you and make a fresh start.’
But could she? Could she put it all behind her? Lark wondered miserably as she fished for a handkerchief and dried her face. What on earth had possessed her to break down like that, and in front of her prospective employer as well?
She refused the offer of a cup of tea and tried to restore what she could of her dignity.
‘You will take the job, won’t you?’ Mrs Mayers implored. ‘It would be such a relief to tell my son that I have found someone.’
She wanted to take it. The duties Mrs Mayers had outlined to her had seemed far more interesting than onerous, and yet she couldn’t help feeling that she was taking advantage of the older woman’s generosity. It was all very well for her to say that she knew all about the court case, but did she really realise the enormity of the crimes of which Lark had so nearly been convicted? And this son of hers, whom she seemed so in awe of, what would he feel about Lark working for his mother?
‘I don’t know. I think we should both think about it,’ she managed to say, guiltily aware of the disappointment in her prospective employer’s eyes.
‘Oh, dear, I’ve gone and done everything the wrong way, haven’t I? And I did so want you to take the job.’
‘I want to take it,’ Lark told her honestly. ‘But I’m not sure if it would be fair to you. Does your son …?’
‘The choice is mine,’ Mrs Mayers told her, surprisingly firmly. ‘And you are my choice, Lark.’
How reassuring those words sounded. How they warmed the coldness of her heart; a coldness which had grown steadily more intense over the months, starting with Gary’s accusations and then her aunt and uncle’s rejection of her.
What ought she to do? she wondered on her way back to her bedsit. She wanted desperately to take the job, but her conscience wouldn’t let her.
Mrs Mayers’ son didn’t sound like the kind of man who would neglect to check up on his mother’s prospective employee. And once he did and he discovered what had happened, surely he would not allow his mother to employ her. Could she take the risk of that kind of rejection? Would it be fair of her to expose Mrs Mayers to her son’s anger when he discovered the truth?
And yet, being with her today was like being given a taste of warmth after enduring the most icy cold. Perhaps the work would not tax her skills and abilities to the full, but it would give her an opportunity to regain the self-confidence she had lost during the months leading up to the trial. It would give her the chance to put the past behind her and start life afresh.
People in the kind of circle Mrs Mayers obviously moved in were hardly likely to concern themselves with the affairs of a young woman such as herself. There would be no knowing looks, no questions.
She let herself into her bedsit and was immediately struck by the contrast to Mrs Mayers’ sitting-room. Her aunt and uncle’s home was comfortably furnished, but it lacked the warmth that Mrs Mayers’ home possessed.
Stubborn was how she had described her son, and yet, listening to her, Lark had known immediately how much she loved him. It was there in her voice, in her smile. She had once known that kind of love, before her parents’ accident.
If there was one thing she detested, it was people who consistently felt sorry for themselves, she told herself fiercely. And yet it was through no fault of her own that she had become involved in Gary’s dishonesty.
Gary had escaped from the consequences of what he had done, but he had unfairly left her to face them. Deliberately, or simply because he had panicked and known no other way of protecting his mistress? Lark was convinced that Lydia Meadows was his mistress, just as she was convinced that it was for her benefit that he had been stealing from his company.
But Gary was dead, and she would have to stop thinking about the past and put her mind on the future.
She sat down tiredly. Could she take the job with Mrs Mayers? And what about Mrs Mayers’ son?
She had been aware of a slight inflection of uncertainty in Mrs Mayers’ voice when she spoke about him. Did that mean that she herself was not sure that he would approve of her choice of employee? If he did not, where would that leave Lark?
Mrs Mayers had assured her that the decision was hers and hers alone, but it had been obvious to Lark that she respected her son, and no doubt valued his judgement …
Her head was starting to ache, and she pressed the palm of her hand to her temple wearily. She couldn’t make a decision now. She would have to sleep on it. She wished there was someone with whom she could discuss what was happening—a friend whom she might confide in. But she had no close friends.
Her aunt and uncle had frowned on her bringing friends home when she lived with them, and those friends she had made at university had now all gone their separate ways.
She hadn’t been in her new job long enough to make new friends. Or was it simply that her aunt and uncle’s reluctance to admit new people into their lives had rubbed off on her, and that she had been wary of allowing anyone to come too close to her? She had once been accused of that by one of the young men she had met at university. But friendship hadn’t been what he’d wanted from her.
At six o’clock she made herself beans on toast—a meagre meal that would have to suffice until breakfast the following morning. Her slenderness was getting very close to the point where she was almost becoming thin. If she took the job with Mrs Mayers she would never have to worry about where her next meal was coming from … She refused to listen to the tempting inner voice.
She wasn’t going to take the job simply for selfish reasons. She had liked Mrs Mayers too much to do that. She could help the older woman, she knew that. From a quick glance at the files Mrs Mayers had shown her, she had realised that they were in a muddled and disorganised state, but she had felt that there was something that Mrs Mayers was holding back, something that was worrying the older woman, and she very much suspected that that something was Mrs Mayers’ son’s reaction to the news that his mother was employing a young woman who had only by the skin of her teeth escaped receiving a prison sentence.
She remembered how evasive Mrs Mayers had been when she had asked her about her reasons for approaching her with the offer of this job. Lark suspected that the truth was that Mrs Mayers had somehow or other learned in conversation with her solicitor what had happened, and that out of the kindness of her heart she had immediately and unthinkingly suggested that she could offer Lark a job. That was the kind of woman she was.
But
