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She got into the passenger seat and he drove on, asking, 'Where shall I drop you?'
She told him and he gave her a quick look. 'Oh, you're Jim Allardyce's girl, are you? I heard you were home. Bet they don't have storms like this in Australia.'
She laughed. Australian weather could be
far worse; in fact, but she knew better than to say so. She was relieved that he knew her father; at least she hadn't been picked up by a stranger. She asked him his name and where he lived, and by the time he had finished telling her they were at the end of her father's drive, and a car was turning our and blocking the entrance.
'Probably Jim out looking for you,' said the other man, but Prue took one glance and knew it wasn't. The driver realised it too, a second later. 'No, it's Josh Killane,' he said, and then Josh leapt out of his car and came round to pull open the door beside Prue.
'I was just coming to get you,' he said, then threw a brusque nod to the driver. 'Thanks, Bob. Good of you to stop.'
'Thank you very much,' Prue said to the driver, smiling at him.
That's OK,' he said, and she got out. Josh slammed the door behind her, grabbed her by the waist with peremptory force and rushed her across to his own car. She found herself being crammed into it roughly, and then the door closed and Josh came round and dived in beside her.
The other car drove off but Josh did not start his engine; he turned to glare at her, temper making his face tight.
'Have you met him before?'
'No,' she said. 'Can we go? I'm dripping all over your upholstery.'
'You got into a total stranger's car and let him drive off with you?'
'I was getting wet, and I still am wet, very wet. I'd like to go home and change into some dry clothes, please.' She added the 'please' as an afterthought, reluctantly, because the way he was looking at her and breathing hard was making her nervous, and she felt it might be wiser to placate him a little.
'You refused my offer of a lift, then got into a stranger's car?'
'Are you having trouble understanding the obvious?' Prue asked aggressively, since placation had not worked.
'You're the most stupid, the most irritating female I've ever met!' he snarled, and Prue decided she did not like being called that, so she snarled back.
'Don't you yell at me! People keep telling me about this mythical being they call a blunt Yorkshire man; I suppose you're it? Well, I've had about enough of your insults and personal remarks; so either drive me home right away or I'm getting out again. I'd rather swim home that sit here while you pull me to pieces.'
'I'm tempted to let you walk, too!'
Prue reached for the door-handle, although she dreaded the idea of going back out into that rain.'
'But I left you to walk back earlier,' he bit out. 'And found myself coming back to look for you, so this time I'll make sure you get home.'
Josh started the car so fast that she was thrown sideways to collide with him. Her nerve-ends were jittery as she sat up again, avoiding his angry stare. Josh drove to the farmhouse at high speed. He braked just as suddenly and swung round to face Prue, his eyes fierce and very black.
'Don't!' she whispered, shaking helplessly. She had never been so afraid in her life. Josh sat there, staring into her face, then he turned away, put both hands on the steering wheel, his whole body stiff with tension.
Prue got out of the car and ran away as if pursued by a deadly enemy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
OVER the next week, time seemed to drag. The hire car had been repaired and she had that back, so she was able to drive herself to the hospital each day to see David, but for the rest of each day she had very little to do. She tried to keep busy, going out with her father if he was working near the house, to watch him and give a hand with whatever he was doing; or, if it wasn't possible for her to go with him, she worked indoors, cooking or preserving some of the luscious autumn fruits she found around the farm—blackberries and sloes and crab apples in the hedgerows; and, in the orchard, apples and pears.
She did not see Josh all week, but Lucy Killane came over to see her one day, bringing grapes grown on an indoor vine at Killane House.
They were a little sharp but had quite a palatable flavour. Lucy Killane said she made wine with them most years. The vine had been growing in the hothouse for years; it had been planted by her husband when they were first married.
Prue was able to see her father's unguarded face when Lucy first appeared; his eyes lit up and his mouth curved in a tenderness that made her absolutely certain that he loved Lucy. She watched Lucy talking to him, but wasn't quite so sure about how she felt—fondness, yes, that was there, but was there more than that?
'Has your daughter gone back to college?' she asked, and Lucy sighed, shaking her head.
'Not yet. She can be very difficult.'
