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'But,' Penny went on, overriding her, 'I don't believe a word of it. Come on, Joe Aldonez spent a whole evening with you—he must have said something that didn't get into the papers.'
'If he did, it was by accident,' said Quincy. 'I think our table was bugged. Maybe they missed the odd word,
but not much else.'
'Why do I get the feeling you're holding out on me?'
'Nothing to hold out on,' Quincy said firmly. 'I'll be over to see you soon, I can't wait to see David legging it for the wide open spaces.'
'All right,' said Penny with an ominous note in her voice, 'I'll talk to you then.'
Quincy hung up and turned to find her mother observing her with shrewd, bright eyes. Flushed, Quincy went back to butter her scone while it was still warm, and while she was drinking her tea her father came into the kitchen, his skin glowing from a battle with the spring wind, his hair ruffled and his stride forceful.
'You're home!' he said, coming over to hug her and rub his cold cheek against hers. 'Everyone in the district has been talking about you, they're dying of curiosity. Suddenly you're famous. How does it feel?'
'Terrible,' she said frankly. 'And before you start asking, yes, I had an exciting time in London and yes, I'm very glad to be home, and no, I don't want to talk about it. At the moment all I want to do is forget it ever happened.' She got up and walked to the door. 'I think I'll have a bath,' she said over her shoulder as she left the room, aware of her parents staring at each other behind her.
They discreetly asked her no further questions when she drifted downstairs an hour later. Bobby, however, was not so easily silenced and fired a positive volley of questions at her when he got back from school. Since he was largely interested in knowing what sort of car Joe Aldonez had, how fast it went and what Quincy had eaten at the dinner party, however, she found it comparatively harmless to face his quiz. Bobby did make a hooting comment on one or two of the pictures which had appeared in the papers.
'You looked pretty daft when you were dancing with him in that night club, but I suppose you couldn't help that, girls are always swooning over pop stars.'
'Not this girl,' said Quincy, grabbing his ear. 'If you hope I've gone soft at the centre, you can forget it, Bobby Jones. I haven't forgotten who filled in that form.'
'Ouch!' he yelped, squirming away. 'I've got homework to do—'bye!' He vanished up the stairs and a moment later the usual heavy thud of rock came from his room as he settled down to a quiet hour with his books.
'His transistor has packed up altogether,' Mrs Jones said thoughtfully. 'Next time I'm in town I'll have a look at radios and see if I can afford a new one for him.'
'Masochist,' Quincy said affectionately.
'Well, he's a good boy,' his mother insisted, and Quincy gave her an incredulous smile.
'Who, him? Mother darling, may you be forgiven!'
'He could be worse,' Mrs Jones defended.
'By what stretch of the imagination do you work that out?' Quincy demanded, prodding the vegetables cooking on the stove.
'He works hard at school and he's very careful with the money he earns with his paper-round.'
'You mean he's a miser,' Quincy agreed. 'Yes, I think he's got more in the post office bank than I have.'
'That's not fair!' Mrs Jones fired. 'He bought me a very pretty ornament for my birthday, he's very thoughtful.'
Quincy gave her an amused smile. 'All right, we'll agree—Bobby's an angel, all he needs is some wings.'
'And a new transistor,' her mother said, chuckling.
That was to arrive two days later. The parcel was addressed to Bobby and caused much excitement in the house as it stood in the hall waiting for him to get back home from school. Mrs Jones was dying to know what it contained, pinching it and brooding over it every five minutes, until Quincy suggested she should open it as she was so fascinated.
'Of course not, it's addressed to Bobby,' her mother said, going pink and marching away.
The minute Bobby came through the front door he spotted it with his usual lynx-like keen sight. 'What's that?' he asked, falling on it with unhidden curiosity before he even realised it was addressed to him. 'It's for me,' he announced, grabbing it up, as his mother and Quincy arrived on the scene.
'We weren't going to snatch it away,' Quincy retorted. 'It's been driving Mum mad all day—for heaven's sake, open it!'
Nothing loath, Bobby attacked it and his mother squawked: 'Not like that! Come into the kitchen, I'll find some scissors for that string.'
While Bobby danced impatiently around her she carefully snipped the string and then wound it into a neat little ball which she slid into her string drawer, rescuing the brown paper as Bobby began to disembowel the package in his brutal fashion, too eager to get at the contents to care how he did it.
