The Sex War

'I couldn't—no, how can I go to sleep not knowing…'

Daniel halted in the middle of the room, listening. 'That's a very good idea,' he said, cutting into her stammered sentence. 'Give Alice the pill, Lindsay. Alice, go upstairs, have a warm bath and get into bed, then Lindsay will bring you some hot milk and you can take her pill and get off to sleep.'

Alice would have argued, but he bent and took her arm in a firm grip, hoisted her to her feet and smiled at her.

'If Stephen was here, that's what he would tell you to do. We'll wake you up the minute there's any news.' He led her to the door and Lindsay followed, watching them wryly. His cool assumption that Alice would obey him was maddening, especially as it was working. Alice reluctantly began to climb the stairs. She paused as the door bell rang again and Daniel said: 'Off you go, Alice,' his voice insistent. Alice went, dragging herself upwards like a weary child. Looking round, Daniel said to Lindsay: 'Get her that milk and stay until she's taken her pill, make sure she swallows it.'

'Yes, sir,' Lindsay muttered through her teeth, bristling, but her antagonism merely made his brows lift.

'Don't you want her to get a few hours' sleep?'

'Of course I do, I just object to being ordered around as if I was a halfwit.'

He smiled. 'Well, you said it. Anyone with any sense would have got her off to bed hours ago, she's on the verge of breaking up into a hundred little pieces.'

'Do you think I couldn't see that? I tried to talk her into going to bed, but she wouldn't hear of its and I could hardly make her go.'

'I managed it,' shrugged Daniel, and Lindsay felt like screaming, his self-satisfaction put her teeth on edge. She turned on her heel and went into the kitchen to heat some milk. Daniel came into the room a moment later, he had shed his smoothly tailored camelhair overcoat and was running a hand over the ruffled black hair as she turned to look at him.

'Now that we've got Alice out of earshots tell me what you know—why has your brother gone off like this?' He got a kitchen chair and sat down on it, astraddle, his arms folded across the back of it and his chin resting on the dark sleeves of his formal suit. She wondered what he had been doing this evening—had he been dining out? A business evening, or a private one? Had he been with a woman? The elegance of the suit, the crisp white shirt and wine silk tie suggested that he had been with a woman, but Lindsay refused to think about that, it was none of her business any more.

'I don't know .any more than Alice. Stephen didn't come home from work last night and there hasn't been a word from him to explain why he's gone away. Alice says they haven't quarrelled, she doesn't know about any business worries he might have, she hasn't a clue why he's gone.' Lindsay watched the milk beginning to bubble in the small saucepan. 'She did say she wouldn't be surprised if it was another woman, but I don't believe it. Stephen isn't the unfaithful sort.'

'What sort is that?' Daniel asked drily. 'He's a man, isn't he? He isn't a saint, it could happen to anyone.'

'Don't judge my brother by your standards!' snapped Lindsay with a bite in her voice. The milk was beginning to boil now, she took the saucepan off the hob and poured the milk into a tall glass, stirred it with the spoon. 'Stephen loves Alice, I don't believe this has anything to do with another woman. I think it's something to do with the business.'

Daniel nodded, his chin still on his arms. 'You're probably right. What was the name of that accountant who worked at the factory? The old guy with the grey hair and rimless spectacles?'

'Mr Datchet?' Lindsay was surprised by his memory. She hadn't even thought of asking Henry Datchet, although now she realised that if there was any trouble at the factory he would know all about it.

'Datchet,' agreed Daniel, nodding as he stood up. 'That's the guy. Take that milk to Alice, I'll get in touch with Datchet and see if he can provide any answers.'

She followed him into the hall, balancing the milk on a saucer. 'I don't know his address.' He picked up the telephone directory, giving her a sarcastic smile. 'I'll find him,' he said, and Lindsay went upstairs without a Word. She was sure he would—Daniel Randall always managed to do what he wanted to do.

She found Alice just climbing into bed in a short pink nylon nightie printed with little white flowers. She looked small and helpless and childlike as she settled against the pillows, her russet hair damp from her bath, the edges of it curling around her pale face.

'Drink this and take the pill, then try to sleep,' Lindsay said gently. It was hard to believe that the girl in the bed was the mother of two children, her usual quiet confidence had all been erased by worry.

Alice took the pill reluctantly, sipped the milk, her throat moving as she swallowed it, then she lay down and Lindsay switched off the light. 'Goodnight, we'll be downstairs if you need us and we'll wake you up the minute there's any news.'

She heard Alice sigh as she closed the door, then Alice turned over and the bed rustled. Lindsay quietly went downstairs.

Daniel was still talking on the phone, propping himself up against the wall with one brown

hand. His skin was slightly sallow and took the sun easily, retained that tan longer than most people seem to do, which threw his light grey eyes into more prominence, their silvery gleam sliding sideways to watch Lindsay as she walked past. She felt a shiver run down her spine and looked away. She did not want to be aware of Daniel Randall in that way; there was too much sensual assessment in his glance. She felt it even with her back towards him, those cynical eyes seemed to burn a hole into her head.

'I see,' he was saying. 'That would explain it, of course. How much leeway does he have?' There was a little silence, then he whistled softly. 'Mr Datchet, could you come over here first thing tomorrow morning with the books? I think we should have a quiet discussion with the figures in front of us.'

Lindsay stood just inside the sitting-room, listening, her brows drawn.

'I understand and I admire your integrity,' Daniel said a moment later, 'but I assure you it will be in Mr Grainger's best interests, Mrs Grainger will be here, you could talk to her before you talk to me.' He paused again, then said: 'Yes, of course. I perfectly understand your position, but this is a matter of urgency. Don't you agree? If it will help you to make up your mind, ring the bank, ask their advice—after all, it's their money which is at stake,' Another silence, then he said: 'Good, I'll expect you at ten o'clock, then. Goodnight, Mr. Datchet.'

A moment later, Daniel sauntered into the sitting-room, his hands in his pockets, whistling softly, the lazy air of satisfaction he wore making Lindsay's nerves jump. She didn't trust him, particularly when he smiled to himself like that. What was he up to?

'Well?' she demanded, and he eyed her with distinct mockery.

'Well, what? Oh, Datchet? He was being pretty cagey, but he did admit that Stephen had a hefty bank loan outstanding which falls due in a week or so. Datchet wraps everything up in sub-clauses like a lawyer, but I gathered that Stephen didn't have a hope in hell of repaying it and he's been trying to raise the money for weeks without any success. Until I see the books I won't have any idea whether the firm's on the rocks or not, but it's clear enough that Stephen is in serious trouble. Datchet seemed very worried.'