Singing in the Wilderness

by Isobel Chace

  ‘Of course not, but I prefer to eat with you, darling. You always give me an appetite—and not only for food!’

  ‘A likely tale!’ said Cas. He turned back to Stephanie in the doorway. ‘Don’t forget the lift,’ he reminded her yet again. ‘And don’t stay on here by yourself getting yourself into a gloomy mood. Nobody’s blaming you.

  Stephanie turned her back on him. She didn’t want to have to watch him go with Amber tucked under his arm when that was where she wanted to be herself and, more than anything, she didn’t want to go home alone knowing that he was taking some other girl to dinner. And what a girl! Where could he have found such a dish as Amber undoubtedly was when he had hardly had a minute to himself since coming to Isfahan? But perhaps he had known her before? Perhaps he knew her very well? And even if he didn’t, but had only just met her, it meant that he was unlikely to have much time to spend with his inherited secretary from now on. How could she help being gloomy with such a thought to go home with?

  She put the letters of her father’s she had found at the very bottom of the file and locked the drawer, determined not to think about them again until the next day. After a good night’s sleep she might even know what to do about them. Perhaps the simplest solution would be to mail them to her father just as they were and leave him to worry about them. In fact she would have done that there and then if she hadn’t been conscious of a feeling of disloyalty to Cas and, for some reason that she couldn’t understand, she felt Cas needed her loyalty even more than her father did.

  When she went downstairs she told Ali about the lift and told him to summon an engineer to get it put right.

  ‘But, Miss Black, every lift in Isfahan—’

  Stephanie smiled sweetly at him. ‘You tell that to Mr. Ruddock, Ali.’

  ‘He will find out, Miss Black. I have never known a lift not have these little difficulties. They are all the same. We call the engineer for one fault and before he has gone again we have another one.’

  ‘I know, Ali, I know. But Mr. Ruddock doesn’t appreciate getting an electric shock every time he presses one of the buttons. The engineer will have to settle for another fault that Mr. Ruddock won’t notice.’

  Ali produced a sheepish smile. ‘If you say so, Miss Black. You will be very pleased I know to have it put right. You are not liking electric shocks either!’

  ‘No, I’m not!’ she agreed. ‘If you could get it seen to before tomorrow—’

  Ali shook his head very slowly from side to side. ‘Who will come to deal with such a small matter before tomorrow or the next day?’ he demanded.

  Stephanie basely fell back on the awed reception she knew her employer to have received by everyone who had seen him that day. ‘Mr. Ruddock will expect us to do better than that when he complains about something. He won’t be very pleased if he presses the button and gets another shock tomorrow.’

  Ah’s confidence was shaken. ‘I will see what I can do, Miss Black,’ he promised.

  After that, there was no further reason why Stephanie shouldn’t go home. She still had many of her things to arrange in her new apartment and, if she had nothing better to do, she could try out her new Persian recipe and make herself a feast to eat all by herself. The programme wasn’t as attractive as it should have been. She had never minded her own society before, but then she hadn’t often had to suffer it. There had always been her father to talk to, or her mother, or one of her many friends who were always in and out of the house back home in England.

  The truth was, she told herself severely, that it wasn’t her own company that was like a sour taste in her mouth, but the company Cas was keeping that evening. To her jaundiced imagination, Amber seemed to be everything that she was not. Beautiful, glamorous, and highly desirable in every way! What man could resist her? What man would want to?

  Stephanie always liked the moment when she stepped out of the office building into the street. She would check off the numbers on the trees as she walked beneath them on her way home. Indeed, she had first learned to read Persian numerals because of her interest in the trees. She had wondered why they should be numbered at all and, when she had discovered that it was to check that each tree had its fair ration of water, as well as checking that no one had taken an axe to one or two while nobody had been looking, she had started checking up on them herself, sometimes having to jump over the rushing water as it was allowed to run through the gulleys that ran between the pavements and the road.

  Only tonight when she stepped out into the street, Gloria was waiting for her.

  ‘I thought you wouldn’t want to be on your own this evening,’ the other girl greeted her. ‘You’ve had quite a day, haven’t you? I say, did you see the girl-friend who went up to find Mr. Ruddock? She’s certainly dished any hopes you or I might have had of attracting his attention to ourselves. She looked so available, if you know what I mean?’

  Stephanie did. ‘I suppose Fatemeh has already gone?’ she said.

  ‘She never keeps her escort waiting long. Today I got down early myself and saw her wrapping herself up in her veil. Funny really, her brother has quite modern ideas about women, but he doesn’t see anything peculiar in his sister going around in a veil in this day and age. Nobody would get me into one, and I told him sol’

  ‘Fatemeh said you knew one of her brothers,’ Stephanie murmured, wondering how she was going to get through a whole evening of Gloria’s undiluted society. ‘Have you met the rest of her family?’

  Gloria made a face at her. ‘Me? It would be easier to break into the Bank of England than to be asked to visit some of these families. The women have a rotten time of it, never going anywhere, while the men have all the fun.’ She glanced up and down the street. ‘Have you anything to eat at your place? We could eat out if you haven’t, but I’d rather not. It isn’t any fun when there aren’t any men around, is it?’

  Stephanie seldom ate out. Being a good cook and an economical one, she preferred to prepare her own food, but even if she hadn’t she would have resented the cost of eating in restaurants except for special occasions. Like last night, she thought dolefully, and was shaken to feel a barb of jealousy that it was not she who was eating with Cas Ruddock tonight.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Gloria asked curiously. ‘You’ve gone quite white.’

  ‘Have I? I was just thinking. Of course you must come home with me and I’ll try out a new recipe on you. You can tell me what you think of it. I haven’t completely settled in to my new apartment—it’s more a room with mod. cons—but I think it’s fairly tidy.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Gloria, ‘let’s do that. But can you hang on for a moment? I’ve left my book upstairs and I may want it to read myself to sleep later on.’

  Stephanie wiped her face clear of all expression in case she should look as startled as she felt at the idea of Gloria reading anything, let alone taking a book to work with her! ‘I’ll wait here,’ she said.

  Gloria was gone a long time. Stephanie stood first on one foot and then on the other, longing to get home. It had been quite a day and she was tired. It had been more of a strain than she had allowed working for Cas for the first time, but she had learned a lot from him too. It had been a revelation to find a mind as clear and concise as his, after the muddled thinking of her father, and her own love of order had instantly responded to the challenge giving her a glow of satisfaction that she had been able to keep up with him all through the morning. If it had not been disloyal to her father, she would not have hesitated to admit that she infinitely preferred working for the American and not only because she was attracted to him as a man. Indeed, it had been in spite of it, for she, like him, was a firm believer in leaving one’s personal life outside the office doors. If one could, she added with an uncomfortable spurt of self-criticism. It was becoming harder and harder to see Cas as anything else but the most attractive man she had ever known.

  Gloria came back breathless and laughing. ‘The lift is out of action. Someone was fool enough to co
mplain of getting an electric shock when he—or I’ll bet it was a she—pressed the button to go up or down. They’ll learn! I never have any trouble! I always press it before I take off my gloves!’

  ‘I don’t wear gloves when it’s hot,’ Stephanie remarked, not wanting to get further involved, but Gloria was not easily diverted once she was following a line of thought.

  ‘I’ll bet it was Casimir’s dreamboat who complained!’

  ‘No, it wasn’t!’ Stephanie was horrified to hear the note of pain in her voice. ‘It wasn’t,’ she said more calmly. ‘It was Mr. Ruddock himself who ordered it to be seen to. I think he’s used to everything around him working like clockwork.’

  ‘His secretary too?’ Gloria nodded wisely. ‘I know the type. I’m glad I don’t have to work for him. I don’t know that I’d like to play with him either. He kind of likes to have his own way, doesn’t he?’

  ‘No more than the rest of us,’ Stephanie smiled.

  ‘Well, he doesn’t mind putting you in an awkward position,’ Gloria rushed on heedlessly. ‘You must be torn in two when he reverses all your father’s decisions. What will you do if you have to choose between them?’

  Pray God, it never came to that! ‘I won’t ever have to,’ Stephanie maintained. ‘I’m only the secretary, not the board of directors!’

  ‘Even so, it must be hard to listen to him criticising your father. I wouldn’t like that! I think I’d pack up and go back to England myself, sooner than get involved in anything like that!’

  Stephanie stiffened. ‘I can’t imagine Mr. Ruddock criticising my father to my face!’

  ‘It would depend what he found out about him.’ Gloria’s winning smile was designed to take any offence out of her words. ‘I liked him, as I told you, but he must have done something to have been sent back to England at a moment’s notice. He wasn’t clever enough to cook the books, but he must have done something!’

  One thing he could have done would have been to curb Gloria’s tongue, but the idea of her easy-going father doing anything as positive as checking anyone who worked for him brought a maternal smile to her lips. Poor Father! He couldn’t be severe with anyone to save his life!

  ‘He was needed in England,’ Stephanie answered, hoping against hope that Gloria would believe her. ‘Didn’t you know? They’re fighting for some other contract in Africa somewhere and my father was needed to work out the costs for them.’

  ‘In Africa?’ Gloria was plainly astonished. ‘It’s the first I’ve heard of it. Is it a private deal?’

  I don’t know,’ Stephanie said, already regretting what she knew to be a downright lie. ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘If it was up for public tender there would be other companies involved. We might not get it.’

  ‘We might not get it anyway,’ Stephanie pointed out. In they certainly wouldn’t, for no such contract existed except in her imagination.

  ‘It’s probably a Commonwealth country,’ Gloria said knowledgeably. ‘They prefer to have British equipment. It fits in better with what they already have. Isn’t it odd that they should send an American to lord it over us here? That’s the trouble with working for an international company, you never know what you’re going to get! I used to work for a completely British company before I came here, but they sold out to another international combine. It’s the modern trend!’

  Stephanie tried to pretend that she had never heard of such a trend before, but was visibly relieved when they reached the block where both her new and her old apartments were situated.

  ‘The best thing about my new room is that I have a splendid view of the dome of the Madrasseh of the Mother of the Shah. I think it one of the most beautiful I’ve seen.’

  Gloria was unimpressed. ‘They all look alike to me!’ she declared. ‘What’s so special about this one?’

  Stephanie unlocked her door and walked over to the window, allowing her eyes to rest on the delicate arabesques against the pale blue background with which the dome was decorated.

  ‘I think it’s the shape,’ she said. ‘It’s such a pleasing shape, and the colours are superb! They’re what I like best about Persian architecture. They float over the buildings, looking so right. One can see them from miles away, and yet they’re just as remarkable when one is standing quite close to them. They never look out of place, but always seem to enhance the rest.’

  ‘They’re just buildings to me,’ said Gloria. ‘It isn’t a very big room, is it?’

  ‘Big enough,’ Stephanie defended it. She wondered how big Gloria’s was and doubted that it was any bigger. ‘If you sit down, I’ll pour you a drink. What will you have? I haven’t got the ice-tray under control yet, but I have got some vodka my father left behind.’

  ‘It’ll have to do,’ Gloria said without much enthusiasm. ‘I don’t much like these foreign drinks, do you?’

  ‘What do you prefer?’

  ‘I’d as soon have a glass of sherry as anything else,’ Gloria answered, apparently blissfully unaware that sherry too was produced in a foreign country. ‘Spirits go to my head. I always think they’re better left to the men really.’

  Stephanie handed her a vodka and lemon whether she wanted it or not and, feeling decidedly ruffled, took refuge in the tiny kitchen and began to prepare their meal. It was being slowly borne in on her that she didn’t like Gloria Lake, never had liked her, and that it was extremely unlikely that she ever would like her. They hadn’t a thing in common and she couldn’t help wondering what had persuaded Gloria to take a job so far away from England, her family, and the local High Street which she suspected was the only place where the other girl was really at home.

  When she went back to her guest, Gloria was sitting on the edge of the sofa, her drink in her hand. Stephanie had no reason for thinking so, but she was sure that Gloria had not been sitting there all the time she had been in the kitchen. A glance at her drink made her even more certain, for the liquid was rocking back and forth and yet had obviously not yet been tasted. Stephanie took an oblique look round the room and was annoyed to see that she had left out a letter she was writing to her mother. She rather hoped Gloria had not been reading it, because it had contained a plea that her mother should welcome home her father with open arms. She had begun to write it after she had seen her father off at the airport and had thought he had looked so sad and old, but later in the evening, after Cas had seen her home, she had decided against sending it as it was and had almost decided to rewrite it without making any reference to her father at all.

  She knew in her heart of hearts that she would have sent the letter if Cas hadn’t told her to leave well alone as far as her parents were concerned. It was yet one more thing to bother her that where Cas was concerned she seemed well content to measure her judgement against his and to accept his dictums with a meekness that she had never noticeably displayed with any other man, her father included. It was hard to believe that she had only met the American for the first time the day before. It felt as though he had always been there and she had to admit that she liked the feeling.

  Sitting down in the chair opposite Gloria, Stephanie knew that the evening was not going to be a success. Gloria probably had no taste for rice, even rice as good as the Iranian variety was, and even less was she likely to enjoy the pomegranate sauce she had prepared to go with the pieces of chicken she had had waiting in the refrigerator. Still, as there was nothing else for them to eat there was nothing she could do about it, but she couldn’t help contrasting today’s meal with the one she had eaten the night before.

  She was amused to find she had summed up Gloria Lake with an accuracy that would have appealed to her mother’s ironic sense of humour. The other girl was obviously appalled to be presented with a plateful of fluffy white rice and the chicken, simmering in the pomegranate sauce, brought a look of such acute distaste to her face that Stephanie felt quite sorry for her. However, by burying most of her chicken under the rice, Gloria did what she could to put a good face on things. S
he even managed a sheepish smile as Stephanie cleared away the plates, excusing her own with an apologetic, ‘Leave some for Mr. Manners!’

  Stephanie suppressed a delighted giggle and almost ran into the kitchen. She could only hope that Gloria would like the second course of fresh fruit salad better than she had the first. But Gloria hastily refused anything further, claiming that she had always had a very small appetite and that Stephanie was not to mind if she didn’t eat as heartily as Stephanie obviously did.

  Fortunately, Stephanie was saved from the impossible task of having to answer that by an imperative knock on the door. Excusing herself with a lighthearted smile which she hoped concealed the unholy joy she felt at the interruption, Stephanie went to the door and opened it wide. She was astonished to see Cas’s enormous frame on the other side, smiling at her quite as widely as she was at him.

  ‘Where’s Amber?’ she said before she had thought.

  ‘I mislaid her on the dance floor about half an hour ago.’

  ‘How—how careless!’

  ‘Wasn’t it?’ His smile grew into a complacent grin. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’

  She stood back to allow him to enter. ‘Gloria Lake is here,’ she warned him in an undertone.

  ‘Is she now?’ His eyebrows shot upwards in comic disbelief. ‘I hadn’t realised you were friends?’

  ‘She came to supper,’ Stephanie said more loudly. ‘Did you want something, Mr. Ruddock?’

  The appreciative look he gave her made her blush scarlet, but he said nothing, and she thought she would love him for ever when he met the naked curiosity in Gloria’s eyes with a pleasant nod and turned straight back to Stephanie.

  ‘What I need is a beer, honey,’ he said, dropping into the nearest chair. ‘It’s been a long, hard evening.’ He surveyed his secretary with a very masculine look and stood up again. ‘On second thoughts, you look a bit frayed yourself. I’ll go and forage in the ice-box for my own beer. Okay with you?’