Fatal Deception Read online

  Norrie nearly lost her temper then, but managed to stay cool and say, 'He's more than adequate in all departments. Compared with him you're way down the league.'

  To her annoyance he merely laughed. 'Have a good lunch.'

  'On second thoughts,' Norrie snapped, 'I'm not going to thank you for the lift. After all I didn't ask for it and I would certainly rather have been alone.' And she got quickly out of the car.

  As a parting shot it wasn't much, but it made her feel a little better as she went into the Post Office, careful not to let Bruno have the satisfaction of seeing her look back.

  But the lift had saved her both time and money because she was able to catch the baby-minder just before she set out to collect Ben. As she walked along to the nursery Norrie tried to think about her article on the grotto, but it was impossible to keep her mind away from Bruno. Why had he kissed her like that, so fiercely, so mercilessly? Why had he kissed her at all? Surely even he wasn't so egotistical that he thought he only had to kiss her and she'd jump back into bed with him? Not when he knew how much she hated him. Or perhaps he looked on her hatred as a challenge, she mused. Something on the lines of if he could get her back he could get anybody. Maybe his appetite for sex was so jaded that he needed that kind of stimulus. Which was a pretty sick thought. Four years ago he hadn't been like that, she thought, remembering. Then they'd revelled in each other's bodies, had delighted to explore and find the ways to give pleasure. She had been almost totally ignorant but Bruno had taught her so much, so many wonderful things.

  Her eyes filled with sudden tears and the street became a blur. Norrie dashed them away with an angry hand. That was long over, those months of innocent love, and were best forgotten. She was older now and knew the score. Never again would she let herself fall helplessly in love with someone, never again leave herself open to hurt and humiliation.

  It was a couple of days before Dave, her union contact, 'phoned her to say that he'd got the printed leaflets ready to distribute.

  'Great,' Norrie enthused. 'When do we start?'

  He laughed. 'That's what I like to hear. How about early tomorrow morning as the staff arrive at work?'

  'Fine.'

  Norrie was outside the Welford Observer at seven-thirty the next morning with Ben in his pushchair, warmly wrapped against the early morning chill. Dave strolled along a quarter of an hour later.

  'What did you bring him for?' he said disapprovingly, pointing at Ben.

  'Because I didn't have anywhere to leave him of course.'

  'You can't take a kid on a picket line,' he protested.

  'It's hardly a picket line; we're only handing out leaflets. Anyway it will give him the right ideas from an early age,' Norrie said cheerfully. 'Let's have a look at the leaflets.'

  Dave took the bundle from an envelope and handed her half. They were printed in red on white paper and looked most impressive with the heading, 'Do you want a say in the future of your paper?' standing out in bold type.

  'They look great. Did they print them at headquarters for you?'

  Dave laughed. 'You're joking. I did them here yesterday while I was supposed to be printing some posters. I did a load because I thought we could hand them out to passers-by as well. Let them know what's going on.'

  'Well, they certainly won't find out from the Observer,' Norrie agreed. 'I just hope Bruno Denton doesn't find out that you printed them here,' she added anxiously.

  For the next hour they were kept busy handing out leaflets and answering questions from strangers, and the joking, but sometimes scornful, comments of their colleagues. Bruno turned up just after eight and took in the situation at a glance, giving a derisive smile as he took a leaflet from the defiant hand Norrie thrust in front of him. He didn't bother to read it but shoved it in his pocket, his eyes holding hers, before walking on.

  For a surprised moment his glance rested on Ben, tucked away in the shelter of the doorway, but just then the editor rushed up and began to tick Norrie and Dave off, and Bruno turned back.

  Surprisingly he took their side. 'They are within their rights,' he reminded Harry Simons. 'And they're not trying to stop anyone working. Besides,' he added, 'they're only wasting their time.' And putting a hand under the editor's elbow, he walked with him into the building.

  'Phew. What do you make of that?' Dave asked Norrie. 'I thought Harry was going to do his pieces then and stop us distributing any more leaflets.'

  'I'm not worried about Harry, after all he's in the union, too, and knew he couldn't really stop us. But I'm surprised that Denton took our side. And I didn't like the way he said we were wasting our time. I'm afraid he might have something up his sleeve,' Norrie answered uneasily.

  'He's just trying to scare you,' Dave scoffed. 'Don't take any notice of him. Come on, there's some people getting off that bus.'

  They went on handing out the leaflets until all the staff had arrived and then Dave went into work himself, leaving Norrie to give out the last few in the new shopping precinct. By that time Ben had had enough and they were both pleased to go back to the cottage and have a hot drink. She read to him for a while and then left him in his favourite place in front of the television set watching a children's programme while she finished typing out her article on the shell grotto. Norrie had also unearthed quite a lot of information from the county archives and she was quite pleased with her work; at the least it should ensure a lot more visitors for Sid to show round.

  At one-fifteen the 'phone rang and Norrie left Ben to eat his lunch alone while she answered. It was Dave. 'You were right,' he said tersely. 'Denton did have something up his sleeve.'

  'Why, what's happened?'

  'He put a notice up on the board this morning saying that the new mid-week edition would start in three weeks. And he's promised a five per cent pay rise from the first of next month. For everyone, linotypesetters and journalists alike.'

  'What about job losses? Did he mention those?'

  'No. But the first of the new computers is being installed over this weekend. And they've got some instructors coming down to show the men how to use it, so that it will be all ready for the new print run.'

  'Will it put anyone out of work, do you think?'

  'Shouldn't think so. Some might have to come in on different days, that's all.'

  'How do the men feel about that?'

  'They don't seem to mind. Some of them even like the idea. Most of the people here are laughing their heads off at our leaflets now,' he added. 'I tried to tell them that the notice only got put up after our leaflets went out, but they mostly seemed to think it was coincidence. Denton's properly spiked our guns,' he said gloomily. 'They should wait until he starts clamping down, that's what I say.'

  'Isn't there anything else we can do? Perhaps if you got on to headquarters again?'

  'I can try, but I don't think it will do any good. Look, I've got to go, I'm in me lunch hour. See you.'

  'Bye.' Norrie put the 'phone down in frustrated anger. Bruno certainly hadn't wasted any time; the staff of the Observer would hardly have had time to read and discuss their leaflet before he had announced his juicy titbit, the news of the rise completely covering the fact that the men had arbitrarily got to learn new skills within a matter of weeks as well as doing their normal job. And if they couldn't take to the change, what happened to them then?

  Over the next three weeks the newspaper offices were full of the heightened interest and excitement that change brings as some of the old linotype machines were replaced by the new computerised keyboards. Norrie went in on her usual days to collect and hand in her work but everyone was too busy to talk at any length. She got a few jeering remarks from some of the junior journalists and several 'Why don't you wait and see' type comments from their seniors, but there was no one who was really willing to listen or take it further. But then she heard of the first redundancy. Dave told her when she went in one morning.

  'But I don't think it's going to make much difference,' he advised. 'It's
one of the elderly linotypesetters. They've wrapped it up as early retirement, of course, but he just couldn't get on with the new keyboard computers. I've talked to him and tried to find out whether he was forced to go, but he won't say. Afraid of being thought a fool, I suppose.' He shrugged. 'And I expect the management gave him a retirement payment and told him to keep his mouth shut. It's like hitting your head against a brick wall.'

  'Did you try the local union headquarters again?'

  'Yes, but they said to wait and see what happens. Said there was nothing yet to warrant them stepping in. Which I've got to admit is true so far.'

  'Nevertheless I think I'll write to them myself and send the details about my old paper; that might make them take some notice.'

  'It's worth a try, I suppose. But you want to be careful,' he warned. 'You've got that kid to look after and it will hurt you more to get the sack than it will me.'

  Norrie smiled at him, appreciating his concern. 'Thanks,' she said warmly. 'But don't worry about me. I'll be okay.'

  That afternoon Norrie carefully composed a letter pointing out all the relevant details and asking the union to look into the take-over, bearing in mind Bruno's past record, and sent it off by first class mail. With any luck they should receive it the next day and possibly act on it during the following week.

  The weather next day changed completely, bringing one of those cold spells that seem like winter all over again even though it was well into summer. On the Friday afternoon Norrie had to go over to the nearest big town to get some things for Ben that she couldn't buy in Welford. The trip was successful, but towards the end of the afternoon it began to rain quite heavily. Ben was okay under the waterproof cover of his pushchair, but Norrie was loaded up with parcels and had no hand free to carry an umbrella so just had to get wet. To make things worse, the rain had made everyone decide to go home at the same time and the queue for the bus stretched past the shelter so that they had to stand in the open, the rain beating down on them.

  The bus was late; it would be of course, and Norrie was beginning to wish she'd never come out. Leaning sideways, she peered past the people in front of her, trying to see if the bus was in sight. A car went by, swishing through the puddles, then it stopped and backed up. She took no notice at first and it wasn't until the electric window on the passenger side slid open and a voice said her name that she realised it was Bruno's car. As she stared in surprise he got out and came round towards her.

  'Come on. Get in,' he ordered. 'Give me your shopping.'

  'No.' Her instinctive reaction was to refuse and she tried, to step away, but there was no room in the tightly packed queue of people. 'I—I don't want a lift.'

  'Don't be damn ridiculous,' he said shortly. 'You're soaked.'

  'Then I'd make your car wet.'

  But he had already opened the boot and firmly took her parcels from her. Then he noticed Ben, who'd been almost hidden by the shopping. 'Is he with you?' he asked in surprise.

  'Yes. So I can't come. Please give me my things back.'

  Not bothering to argue, Bruno dropped her packages in the boot and said tersely, 'Get in the car with the kid. I'll deal with the pushchair.'

  Angry at his arbitrary behaviour, Norrie said, 'I've told you, I don't want a lift. I'd rather wait for the bus.'

  'For God's sake, woman, stop arguing and get in the car.'

  The people around her were turning to watch and Norrie suddenly felt ridiculous. Unstrapping Ben, she picked him up and got into the back of Bruno's Jaguar, inwardly cursing his high-handedness and hoping that he'd make a fool of himself trying to close the pushchair, which was awkward enough at the best of times. But to her added annoyance Bruno managed it perfectly easily and was back in the car within a couple of minutes. As they drew away she heard a noise behind them and Norrie looked through the rear window to see the bus pull up at the stop. If it had only arrived on time she wouldn't have been put in this unwelcome position.

  'You're wet.' Ben pulled himself off her lap on to the seat beside her but Norrie kept a tight hold on the bottom of his anorak; the car had four doors and there were no childproof locks.

  'What are you doing with the kid?' Bruno asked over his shoulder.

  'I'm—I'm looking after him for someone.' Norrie answered hesitantly, not wanting to talk about anything on a personal level.

  'Anyone I know?'

  'No. No one you know.'

  'You ought to get yourself a car,' Bruno commented. 'Or at least have taken a taxi.'

  'They cost too much,' Norrie pointed out tartly. 'And I don't need a car; I can manage perfectly well on public transport.'

  Bruno raised a sardonic eyebrow as he glanced back at her, clearly disbelieving. Then his expression changed as he said abruptly, 'Is your job on the Observer the only work you do?'

  Biting back the impulse to tell him to mind his own business, Norrie answered coldly, 'No, I also do freelance work.'

  'Successfully?'

  'Successfully enough. Why do you want to know?'

  'Just interested, that's all.'

  Which could mean anything. But one thing was for sure, he certainly wasn't worrying about what she would live on if he kicked her off the Observer.

  Ben had been sitting quietly, shy of the big stranger, but now he got more confident and stood up, holding on to the back of the passenger seat,. 'What your name?' he demanded.

  Norrie tried to shush him, but Bruno gave him an amused glance. 'It's okay. It's Bruno,' he told him.

  'Mr Denton,' Norrie corrected dampeningly.

  Not a bit discouraged, Ben went on, 'I'm Ben and I'm. nearly four.' Adding matter-of-factly, 'Are you my Daddy?'

  It was a question he asked all the strange men he came in contact with, but he would have to ask Bruno.

  "Fraid not, old son,' he replied cheerfully. Then, to Norrie, 'Doesn't he know who his father is?'

  'No. He can't remember him.' And she looked determinedly out of the window, not wanting to talk.

  But Ben more than made up for her silence, pointing to the instrument panel and asking, 'What this for? What that do?'

  Bruno answered him patiently enough, not talking down to him but merely simplifying his explanations so that Ben could understand.

  It seemed to take an age to get to Welford but at last they were in the town and Norrie could say, 'If you'll drop us at the next corner, please.'

  'You surely don't live in the centre of the town?'

  'No, but we can walk from here.'

  'Nonsense, it's still pelting with rain. Tell me where you live.'

  Her voice rising, Norrie repeated, 'I said we would walk.'

  Bruno stopped at a red light and put an arm across the back of his seat as he turned angrily to face her. 'When are you damn well going to stop arguing with me?'

  'When are you leaving Welford?' she countered.

  His face grew grim. 'Just as soon as I can.'

  'Well, it can't be too soon for me.'

  They glared at each other until the car behind hooted and Bruno realised the lights had changed to green. 'Where do you live?' he repeated harshly.

  'The next right.'

  Beyond directing him, Norrie didn't speak again until Bruno pulled up outside the cottage. It was a small old house with only a tiny garden separating it from the pavement, but the brickwork had mellowed to rose red and Norrie had painted the door white and beside it had planted a climbing rose that was heavy now with yellow blooms, their heads hanging in the rain.

  Norrie ran to the door with Ben and quickly unlocked it and shoved him inside while she went back for her things. Bruno was already out of the car and was getting the pushchair out of the boot. 'There was no point in both of us getting wet,' she pointed out acidly, taking the pushchair from him.

  Without bothering to answer, Bruno picked up her shopping, banged down the boot lid and followed her up the path to the door. Quickly Norrie dropped the pushchair in the doorway and turned to take the parcels, barring his way. He stood
there, bare-headed, the rain trickling down his face like tears and making his thick hair start to curl. 'Aren't you going to ask me in?' he asked with heavy irony.

  'No,' Norrie answered coldly. 'I'm not going to let you intrude into my home. Or into my life. Not any more.' Then she stepped inside and shut the door in his face.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Norrie's letter to the local union headquarters resulted in them sending an official down to Welford a few days later. He arrived quite unannounced and started talking to various members of the staff, working his way through each department of the building before asking to speak to Bruno. Dave had let Norrie know the moment he'd arrived and she hurried to leave Ben with the child-minder and get to the Observer as soon as she could, but although she hung around Sue's office all morning, fully expecting the official to want to speak to her, he didn't come near or ask for her.

  'Now what do I do?' she asked Sue frustratedly when the office clock showed twelve-thirty. 'I can't hang around here indefinitely.'

  'Well, he's got your home 'phone number, hasn't he? If he'd wanted to speak to you he would surely have 'phoned to let you know,' Sue pointed out rather impatiently, getting fed up with having her around. 'Look, if he wants to talk to you, I'll get him to 'phone you from here, okay?'

  'Okay. Thanks, Sue. I'm sorry to be a pest,' Norrie sighed. 'I just wish I knew what was happening.'

  'Don't we all,' the older woman agreed. 'But I doubt very much whether we'll hear anything today. You know what they're like at headquarters.'

  And in fact none of the staff heard anything for several days until everyone received a duplicated letter saying that the union official would address a meeting the following morning. Norrie's copy arrived by post the same day as they were handed out at the office so she had plenty of time to arrange for Ben to be looked after. There was only the notification of the meeting in her letter, nothing different from that of anyone else, not even an acknowledgement of her own letter to the union, which rather annoyed her. They could at least have thanked her for writing to them.