DISTURBING STRANGER
by
CHARLOTTE LAMB
"I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you, and I warm you, my dear, I have never failed to get what I want", Randal Mercier told Laura Hallam. "I've no real choice, have I?" Laura asked. As long as she could remember, Laura had loved Dr. Tom Nicol, a gentle, self-sacrificing man, dedicated to serving the needy. Unlike him in every way was Randal Mercier--wealthy, powerful, taking what he wanted. And he wanted Laura. Her father's embezzlement of funds from Randal's company madeit impossible for Laura to refuse his marriage proposal. She knew she must marry him but she didn't have to love him. She couldn't foresee her change of heart or the despair of knowing he was indifferent to it.
CHAPTER ONE
THE wind blew fiercely along the river Thames, the twisting, grey surface into a hundred broken ripples, setting moored barges rocking to and fro so that their warped berths creaked, whipping through the branches of gender plane trees, eating into the bones of old men who slept out in secret corners of the night-time city, their huddled bodies under rustling piles of old newspapers. Pub signs swung on rusty hinges. Shutters clacked on shop windows. Dried leaves blew into drifts in empty doorways and made a rustling sea along the deserted alleyways.
'London can be quite eerie at night,' said Laura Hallam, staring around her.
'It was your idea to come with me on this visit,' Pat Basset reminded her. 'I told you you'd find this district a bit alarming.'
'I'm glad I did,' Laura said soberly. 'Those poor children! It must be bad enough to lose your mother, but to have your father sent to prison on top of that must have been traumatic.'
'It happens every day,' Pat shrugged. 'We do the best we can, it isn't much. The kids you saw tonight are lucky. They have an aunt who's ready to take them in there are a lot of others who have to be farmed out to strangers. That's much worse. I'm quite
hopeful about the family we've just seen. They have a strong family tie, and that's half the battle.'
Laura had the distinct impression that Pat disapproved of her, and she wondered why. Was it because she was not one of the unlucky ones whom Pat cared for in her job as a social worker? Or because she had wanted to come tonight out of what Pat clearly regarded as vulgar curiosity? She did not want to explain to Pat that her motives were far more personal. Pat knew and worked with Tom. That was how they had met in the first place. Laura could never confide in someone who knew him.
They walked in silence for a while, their footsteps echoing down the narrow street. A door opened on the other side of the road and yellow light spilled out across the pavement. The silence was broken by laughter and loud voices. A young man came out, climbed on to a motor bike, kicked it once or twice and the engine sprang into roaring life. He disappeared down the street with a throb of departing sound.
Afterwards the silence seemed deeper. Passing a shabby shop Laura saw a man lounging in the doorway, and her nerves jumped at the hard stare he gave them. Pat ignored him. Laura was forced to marvel at her courage. Night after night she visited this run-down area of the city, walking the streets alone on most occasions. Once or twice, Laura knew, Pat had been attacked, even injured. Yet she had not given up her job. She was dedicated to the work she did.
Tom admired her, of course. She was the sort of woman Tom respected-brave, independent, caring. She lived in a tiny flat in a tenement, right in the heart of her district, and she devoted her whole life to her work.
As they passed under a street lamp Laura glanced sideways at her. Short, stocky, sallow-skinned, Pat had a customary frown on her square face, as though still pondering the problems she had just been dealing with, and her brown hair was ruffled by the wind into a tangled mass.
