by Isobel Chace
He smoothed her hair down again, still smiling. ‘You’d better go before I think up something else to delay you. Shall I come down in the lift with you?’
She shook her head, a little shocked that he should suggest it. ‘Of course not!’ She felt faintly relieved that she should sound so decided and in command of herself. ‘But, Cas, I’m sure my father didn’t write those letters!’
‘Would you have shown them to me if you had thought he had?’
Her eyes wavered in the face of the brilliant blue of his. ‘I hope I would have done,’ she said at last. ‘I think I would have done so, but I’ll never be absolutely sure. I can’t forget he’s my father!’
‘I’m not likely to forget it either,’ he assured her.
‘No, but you’ll do the right thing,’ she sighed. ‘I wish I could be certain that I would have done so too.’
He touched her mouth with the tips of his fingers to silence her. ‘You’ll do, honey! Though I could have wrung your neck with the greatest of pleasure when I saw those letters on my desk this morning! You beguile me far too easily. Will you always do so, I wonder?’
She felt a shiver of fear run through her. ‘You will be careful, won’t you? Supposing they try to get rid of you too?’
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘I can look after myself. It won’t be the first time I’ve had to deal with this sort of thing. I can play it pretty dirty myself if I have to, but I don’t want you involved any further. You can exercise your talent of feeding the brute and keeping me happy. Is it a deal?’
He held out his hand to her and she took it without any hesitation. ‘Not everyone likes my cooking. Gloria didn’t!’ she said with feeling.
‘Possibly a recommendation in itself,’ he drawled.
She threw back her head and laughed. ‘Poor Gloria! I wonder what made her apply for a job out here. I’m sure she’d be much happier back in England!’
‘Could be. What about you?’
‘Me?’ She thought about it. ‘I’m happy here. I’ve never been happier—or, at least, I would be if it weren’t for this muddle and my father having to go back to England.’ Yet, if her father hadn’t gone, Casimir Ruddock would never have come to Isfahan to replace him, and the latter had a lot to do with the warmth of her feelings for Persia and the life she had come to love there.
‘Then you don’t mind being away from England?’
She was surprised by the question. ‘Why should I mind? I’ve always wanted to travel and see places for myself. I’d like to see America too.’ She thought then that she didn’t know much about him. She didn’t even know which State of the Union was home to him.
‘Western Virginia,’ he supplied, with that uncanny knack he had for reading her thoughts. ‘My family has a farm there. One day it’ll be mine and I’ll go back there and farm the land, like my father before me. I want my own sons to be born there and to run wild there as I did. We’re proud of the life we’ve made for ourselves there. Even my mother is more Virginian than Polish now.’
‘Was she born in Poland?’
‘No, but her family came from there. She didn’t speak a word of English until she went to school and she still has a slight accent when she gets excited. You’ll like her.’
This last was said with such conviction that Stephanie couldn’t doubt that he meant it. But what were her chances of ever meeting his mother?
‘I’d better go,’ she said aloud. ‘Thank you for being so nice about everything, Cas.’
He nodded his head, opening the door for her. As she passed him, he grinned at her. ‘You’d better make it lunch for three,’ he said. ‘Casimir’s dreamboat may come along with me if she hasn’t anything better to do.’ His grin grew broader. ‘Only for lunch, my dear. After lunch, I want to talk to you by yourself, and she’d be decidedly de trop! Fortunately, she has an infinite capacity for doing nothing and won’t want to come with us if we say we’re going out. She’s a placid creature despite the somewhat exotic exterior.’
He was plainly devoted to her, a fact that made Stephanie want to say that if he wanted to have lunch with her, he could take her out somewhere, somewhere where she, Stephanie, wouldn’t have to watch them together! But how could she tell him that when he was being so kind to her?
She walked to the lift without a backward look, only then remembering that she had left her handbag in her office, nor had she given her bunch of keys to Cas, despite his asking her for them. She turned and looked back at him, and found he was already waiting for her at the door of her office. In silence she preceded him through the door and picked up her handbag and the few personal things she kept in one of the drawers of her desk. When she had done, she thrust the keys into his hand and almost ran back to the lift, pressing the call button with an urgency that made her blood thump in her ears.
Fatemeh took one look at her face as she emerged from the lift on the ground floor and rose from her seat, crossing the room towards her.
‘What is the matter, Stephanie? You look as though you have seen a ghost!’
Stephanie took a grip on herself and even managed a smile. ‘Mr. Ruddock needs you upstairs,’ she said flatly. ‘I’m going home.’
‘To England?’
‘Not yet. He—he’s coming to lunch. We’re going to talk this afternoon. He’ll probably tell you about it himself.’
Fatemeh looked first concerned, but then a little spark of humour lit her dark eyes. ‘If he is having lunch with you, he won’t be sending you back to England! Has there been more trouble about your father?’
Stephanie nodded briefly. ‘Someone else must have a set of keys,’ she whispered. ‘Only why should they do such a thing? Whom does it help? That’s what I’d like to know!’
But Fatemeh was scarcely listening. ‘Stephanie, if you are going to make the lunch yourself you will need someone to go shopping with you. Hold on a minute and I will telephone my home and tell my maid to meet you at your apartment. She can go with you!’
‘But can she speak English?’ Stephanie objected.
‘Of course not, but you can’t possibly go shopping by yourself! What are you going to make for lunch?’
Stephanie hadn’t the faintest idea. ‘Does it matter? All I want to do is to clear up this business here!’
Fatemeh looked amused. ‘Mr. Ruddock will do that without your help. I will tell my maid that you are making Kufteh Sabzi for two people, and she must help you, yes?’
‘Three people,’ Stephanie corrected her. ‘He’s bringing someone else to lunch.’
Momentarily, Fatemeh looked confused, but she recovered herself quickly. ‘Another woman? Is he worried what people will think if he eats alone at your apartment? Who is this other woman?’
Stephanie told her about Amber, trying to keep the open dislike she felt for the other woman out of her voice.
‘She dances in public?’ Fatemeh repeated. ‘Then no doubt she is only a passing distraction and is nothing for you to worry about. She is to chaperon you, nothing more. That much is clear!’
‘It would be in Persia—’
Fatemeh patted her hand with real affection. ‘Men don’t marry their distractions! I expect she is very beautiful, no?’
‘Very beautiful!’ Stephanie agreed dryly.
‘But not the woman to be the mother of his children and to live in his home? That would be too much to believe!’
Stephanie supposed that it would. She didn’t see Amber settling down in the family home in West Virginia somehow, but that didn’t stop Cas from being very deeply in love with her, and she said as much. ‘Any man would be flattered to walk into a room with her on his arm!’ she added glumly.
Fatemeh shrugged. ‘How complicated you make these things!’ she sighed. ‘I should be worried if my fiancé wanted to show me off to a lot of other men. I much prefer it that he wants to keep me to himself. If he wished to share me with others, how could I be sure of his love?’
How could one ever be sure? Stephanie wondered. S
he searched in her handbag for her handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘Yes, but Cas isn’t my fiancé—’
‘I’ll telephone my maid,’ Fatemeh cut her off quickly, so quickly that Stephanie knew that she had some reason to interrupt her. Sure enough when she turned her head, she saw Gloria coming towards them.
‘Don’t tell me,’ the English girl drawled, ‘that our busy little bee hasn’t any work to do? Has the great man given you the day off?’
‘Something like that,’ Stephanie managed.
Fatemeh dialled a number and spoke quickly down the phone, giving a series of crisp orders that effectively put an end to the English question and answer session beside her. ‘There!’ she said when she had finished. ‘My maid will meet you as arranged and will take you shopping. Now remember, Kufteh Sabzi. I have already told her all about it. They are little vegetable and meat balls and, I happen to know, they’re a great favourite with him!’ Only then did she acknowledge Gloria’s presence. ‘Good morning, Miss Lake. How is my brother? Did he tell you that he is leaving for Yazd tomorrow? You will miss him, no doubt, but he will be back for my wedding later on. He will be marrying himself soon. That’s why he goes to Yazd, to sign the contract. Her family lives there now, though they used to live close by us in Isfahan.’
‘I haven’t seen your brother!’ Gloria snapped back. ‘Unlike some people I could mention, I don’t throw myself at every man I meet! But I see your tactics are paying off very nicely where the big boss is concerned! What favours did he ask in return for the morning off to go shopping? Or is it more than just the morning you’re taking off?’
‘Much more,’ Stephanie answered. ‘I’m suspended from working in the office altogether.’ She turned on her heel without waiting to see what effect her words had had on the English girl. ‘Thank you, Fatemeh, for the loan of your maid. If I get into any difficulties, I’ll telephone you to supply the necessary translation.’
Fatemeh giggled. ‘Mina will look after you. She is very strict with all of us!’
Stephanie smiled too. ‘With Amber too?’
‘With you! But she is an excellent cook and she will like to help you. Have a good time, kouchek, and find a more cheerful face for your lunch-party, yes?’
‘She looks remarkably cheerful to me!’ Gloria said unkindly. ‘Some people always manage to fall on their feet!’ She turned deliberately to Fatemeh. ‘Do you know—?’
The Persian girl swept up her notebook and pencil. ‘I am sorry, Gloria, but I have to go upstairs. Goodbye, Stephanie.’
‘How are you going to live if he’s sacked you?’ Gloria demanded, watching the Iranian girl as she walked across to the lift. ‘I thought you’d run home to Daddy! Is she going to fill in for you?’
‘I think so,’ Stephanie answered.
Gloria made a face. ‘Why her? I have the seniority. It ought to be me! I think I’ll have a little word with our Mr. Ruddock.’ Her eyes swept over Stephanie’s face without troubling to hide her dislike for her. ‘If I were you, I’d watch my step with him! Your father isn’t the only person who can be replaced by the company if certain matters come to their ears! And I shall tell him so!’
Stephanie didn’t envy her her self-imposed task. ‘I should,’ she said lightly, and hurried past Ali’s desk and out of the building into the sunshine before Gloria Lake could think of anything further to say.
Mina’s glum exterior hid a kind heart. Stephanie never discovered whether Fatemeh’s orders had covered everything the woman did for her, but she had to admit that she could not have managed without her. In the market, her experience and advice was invaluable, choosing this and that and rejecting the other with brusque efficiency. Afterwards, she sat on the floor in the kitchen and prepared the ingredients ready for cooking. From under her chador, she produced a cheap plastic transistor radio which she turned full on, pulling the flap of her veil across her face whenever a man’s voice could be heard coming out of the tinny loudspeaker. Later, Stephanie was to find out from Fatemeh that some of the older women still missed the rigid, fitted masks they had worn in their girlhood, but which had been banned in the interests of modernity by the present Shah’s father. They felt, so Fatemeh said, much as most western girls would feel if they were obliged to go topless in the streets by government edict. Some of them had spent years immured in their houses rather than face such a humiliation. Some had never gone out ever again, though those mostly belonged to a generation that was fast dying out. Most young girls wore, or did not wear, their chadors to suit their own convenience and comfort, as Fatemeh did herself.
Stephanie insisted on setting the table herself. The equipment she had at her disposal was decidedly limited, so she decided to make up for this with colour, using little nosegays of flowers to decorate the table where the side-plates might have been, and yet others to hide the lack of cutlery and the rather ugly glasses that were all she could find.
When she had finished, she found that Mina had laid out a clean dress for her on her bed, having taken the trouble to iron it and to find just the right coloured scarf to wear to set off the neckline. Stephanie was a little surprised at her choice and even tried to question it, but every remark the old woman made came back to Fatemeh, and Stephanie came to the conclusion that Fatemeh had been more than explicit in her instructions. Not a single detail had been left to chance.
And it was a very pretty dress. It had a wide collar that stood up behind her neck to reveal her shoulders, and a pleated skirt, the inside of the pleats providing the only colour in what was otherwise a pure white dress. The scarf was of the same sizzling shade of petunia as the pleats. Stephanie enjoyed wearing it and she donned it now with pleasure, studying the picture she made in the glass. With her honey-coloured tan, nearly as deep as her hair, her wide hazel eyes which held a surprisingly happy and expectant expression, and a soft, slightly vulnerable look to her mouth, she thought she was more pretty now than she had ever been in her life before. But then the vision of Amber’s striking beauty rose unbidden in her mind and she knew that there could be no comparison between them. Paris would have had to be half blind to award the golden apple to Stephanie in any contest between them!
When the knock came on the door, Stephanie felt overwhelmed by an unaccustomed shyness as she went to open it. Cas was standing there alone and from the appreciative glint in his eyes as he looked her up and down she thought that Fatemeh’s choice had been a good one.
‘Where’s Amber?’ she asked him.
‘She’ll be along. You’re looking very striking! I wonder why?’
‘To boost my morale,’ she told him.
He appreciated that. ‘It does mine good too. You look good enough to eat, but then you always look cool and fresh. It’s just one of the things I like about you!’
‘Oh?’ She would have liked to know what the other things were, but she was too shy to ask him. Instead, she was hard put to it not to blush and stammer like a schoolgirl, especially when he ducked his head, ignoring her outheld hand, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. What a pity it was that Amber had to come at all!
‘I owe it to her,’ said Cas, reading her thoughts as always. ‘You don’t have to worry about her, you know. Amber’s not your enemy.’
Unconvinced, Stephanie thought it wiser to change the subject. ‘Beer?’ she asked him with a smile.
He shook his head. ‘Not today.’ His smile told her why not. ‘How do you feel about wine? Amber’s bringing a couple of bottles of sparkling stuff with her that she’s been holding for me in her ice-box.’
Stephanie stiffened. ‘You’ve seen her already today, have you?’
‘I had something I wanted her to do for me.’ He sniffed the air expectantly. ‘Is that going to be as good as it smells?’
‘I hope so. I’ve had the help of Fatemeh’s maid all morning. It’s her transistor you can hear in the kitchen.’
Cas smiled, enjoying the picture she made. ‘Sounds promising.’ He sat down, spreading his long legs out before him.
‘Where do you want to go this afternoon?’
‘It depends,’ she murmured. ‘My favourite place of all is the Friday Mosque, but if I’m not going to like whatever it is you have to say to me, I’d rather go somewhere else. New Julfa, for instance.’
‘The Armenian quarter?’ He gave her a quizzical look. ‘I think we’ll settle for the Friday Mosque.’
She wondered what he would do if she were to argue the toss with him, but her courage died in the face of his quiet determination. ‘Has Fatemeh done your letters nicely?’ she asked instead.
‘We’ve been too busy to get through much of the routine stuff. She’s found a gadget I can dictate into any time I want, though, and she says she’ll get the lot typed up for me while I’m out on the road.’
Her spirits fell with a bump. She had forgotten he was going away, and what on earth was she going to do without him?
‘Who are you taking with you?’ she asked him, her voice shaking despite herself.
The knock at the door came simultaneously with his answer. ‘That’s one of the things I want to talk about,’ he said. He got leisurely to his feet, looking down into her wide, startled eyes. ‘Are you going to let Amber in, or shall I?’
‘Cas, they’ll never let you take me!’
‘It depends in what capacity I take you.’ He went to the door and opened it, putting both arms affectionately round the newcomer’s inviting waist and holding her tightly against him. ‘Amber, I love you! Hand over the wine and I’ll see what I can do about opening it.’ His eyes rested on Stephanie for a moment, unexpectedly warm and affectionate. ‘You can get the glasses, honey,’ he said.
