The Art of Romance

by Margaret Carr

  A stranger sat at Sharon’s desk. She lifted dark eyebrows above gold-rimmed glasses when Alison introduced herself.

  ‘Mr Kyle did say a PA was coming in but he didn’t mention that name.’

  Alison froze in her stride towards her desk. She swung round to face the secretary.

  ‘Mr Kyle? Is Mr Harker in yet?’

  The secretary looked up from her work.

  ‘He’s been in half-an-hour. Shall I ring through?’

  Alison gave a cool smile and said, ‘That won’t be necessary.’

  William was facing the window with his back to the room. He didn’t turn at her entrance.

  Alison’s heart fell like a stone. She remembered him telling her that Maurice Kyle had the casting vote in the company now.

  Had he put pressure on William to get rid of her? But William had said nothing to her when she left him on Friday.

  ‘Does Maurice want my resignation?’ she asked at last.

  The chair turned slowly.

  Alison only just caught her breath before showing her shock. William had aged over the weekend and looked every one of his seventy-two years.

  She walked around the desk and kneeled down by his chair.

  ‘William, what is it?’

  He gave a great sigh and shook his head.

  This couldn’t be her fault surely. Was he ill or one of his sisters or …

  ‘This has nothing to do with Vernon turning up or my leaving the job, has it?’

  His gaze covered every detail of her face before lifting her hand to his dry lips.

  ‘It would seem, my dear, that Harkers’ no longer has any need for us.’

  Alison rocked back on her heels.

  ‘He does want my resignation.’ Then a frown creased the skin between her brows. ‘What did you mean us? What has this to do with you?’

  He straightened his shoulders and gave a great sigh before continuing.

  ‘I refused to let you go and said I would go with you if he insisted.’ He passed a hand across the wobble beneath his smooth chin. ‘He agreed and we left it there.’

  ‘Let me take you home.’

  When he rose without protest she felt her heart swell to bursting, and a sour taste lay in the pit of her stomach. They left the office as clean and neat as when he’d arrived. He never took work home so carried nothing with him when he left.

  Alison informed the secretary that Mr Harker wasn’t feeling well and she would be taking him home as she grabbed the handbag from her desk and rushed out after him.

  * * *

  After leaving William in the care of his sisters, she made her way home. Her car had been left behind the offices of Harkers’, but she felt no need of it, rather the short walk would help her thoughts which at the moment were clouded with anger.

  Maurice Kyle was everything she had first thought him to be, selfish, careless of other people to the point of cruelty. She couldn’t find enough hate to satisfy how she felt about him

  William was a good and loving man. How could Maurice have done this to him? He must know that without Harkers’ the old man would fade and die. Rather than clear her mind, the short walk had given her time to work herself into a state where upon entering her flat she had been violently ill. Later she fumbled through her briefcase until she found the telephone number of The Kicking Cuddy.

  She wasn’t exactly in his employment any more so there was nothing to lose in telling him just exactly what she thought of him.

  Sharon answered the phone and the shock of hearing her friendly voice deflated Alison’s anger like a pricked balloon.

  Sharon started to chatter like mad but after a few minutes Alison cut in.

  ‘I need to speak to Maurice. Is he around?’

  ‘He certainly is and making life dreadful for everyone.’

  It was some time before his cold voice came over the line.

  ‘Kyle here.’

  Was that him being a prig or had Sharon not told him who it was who wanted to speak to him, she wondered. Either way it helped him regenerate her anger.

  ‘It’s Alison Wareham here,’ she said in her coolest business voice.

  ‘Where are you? I’ve been looking all over for you.’

  Alison held the receiver away and stared at it. Placing it back against her ear she said, ‘Where I am is no concern of yours. I’m ringing about William and your despicable behaviour towards him. To fire me is one thing but to take it out on an old man because he has the courage to stand up for me is deplorable.

  ‘Of course this is just the kind of behaviour one would expect from someone like you. Well, let me tell you, you are not going to get away with it. I shall encourage him to take legal action.’ And she slammed the phone down hoping that the noise would deafen him.

  A few minutes later the phone rang. Alison buried her face in her hands and ignored it. It rang for a further five times, and when it rang again on the sixth time Alison had had enough and picked it up intending to leave it on the table without answering.

  He’d soon get the message then, she thought. But as she placed it on the table the voice she heard coming through the receiver was female. Sharon, she thought, placing it back to her ear.

  ‘Sharon, is that you?’

  ‘Yes. What on earth is going on, Alison? Maurice has just left here like a greyhound that’s spotted a hare. I hope you’re holed up somewhere safe.’

  ‘Did Maurice say where he was going?’

  ‘Not him. But rumours are flying around the workforce that his temper and your disappearance have something to do with you and one of the guests up at the house. I keep telling them it’s not like you to get personally involved, but you know what gossips they are.’

  Alison gripped the phone until her knuckles turned white.

  ‘I won’t be coming back, Sharon. I’ve been fired.’ At Sharon’s gasp on the other end of the line, Alison grimaced. ‘He wiped William out, too.’

  ‘What did you do?’ Sharon whispered.

  ‘It’s nothing to do with work. My personal life is no-one’s business but my own.’

  ‘Etienne has been down here looking for you. I think he and Maurice had a big falling out. It he comes down again can I tell him where you are?’

  Alison closed her eyes. Sharon was ever the romantic soul.

  ‘No, Sharon, I made no romantic attachments at the house. Now I must go. ’Bye and thank you for everything.’

  She heard Sharon sigh as she replaced the receiver.

  The flat no longer offered the comfort it had in the past, Alison realised, as she washed and wiped the several days’ covering of dust from shelves and ornaments. She had done her shopping and would have an omelette for lunch, she decided. Instead she stood by the window and looked down into the mews.

  The young man was working in the garage below and his radio belched forth heavy metal. Steam rose from the cobbles as the sun shone between rain clouds.

  Black ribbons hung on the door of her neighbour across the mews. Mitzi had died while Alison was in Sussex. She felt sorry for the woman who had been devoted to the little dog.

  Alison opened the window. The flowers in her window box had also died in her absence.

  There was a great commotion in the road outside the mews when suddenly the nose of a grey Jaguar pushed into the narrow mews and pulled up outside her door. It was followed by an irate traffic warden and a large man in a butcher’s apron.

  Maurice was out of the car and looking up at the window.

  ‘Are you going to let me in or feed me to the masses?’

  Alison was aghast. The traffic warden had pulled out a notebook and the butcher was shouting at her.

  Without thinking clearly, Alison turned from the window and flew down the stairs. No sooner was the latch off than the door was thrust open and slammed behind Maurice’s back. He followed her up the stairs.

  ‘What do you mean by barging into my home like this?’

  He stood at the top of the stairs.


  ‘You let me in.’

  She marched across to the window and looked out. The man from the garage had come out to see what all the fuss was about and to admire the Jaguar. The traffic warden was disappearing out of the mews but the butcher had stayed behind and was chatting to the young man.

  ‘The traffic warden has gone. The butcher is still downstairs.’

  ‘He isn’t a butcher, he’s part of a commercial being shot up the road. I tried to dodge some traffic lights and knocked his stall down.’

  He doesn’t took at all repentant, Alison thought as she scowled at him, but then I don’t suppose he bothers about little things like that.

  ‘You have probably lost the man his job.’

  ‘I should think it more likely that his gossiping will lose him his work.’ Alison glanced once more at the open window where the voices of the two men could still be heard rising up from the lane below.

  ‘What are you doing here anyway?’

  He moved forward until he stood towering over her.

  ‘Answer me honestly if you can. Are you in love with Etienne?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then why are you encouraging him?’

  ‘I am not. Etienne is a friend, nothing more.’ Relief was her first emotion that he appeared to have no knowledge of her relationship with Vernon.

  ‘The quickest way to reel in a Frenchman is to turn your back on him. Living on your wits the way you do, I’d have thought you would have known that.’

  Alison was flabbergasted. Why was she standing here taking these insults? Throw him out or call the police, she scolded herself.

  ‘I beg your pardon.’

  Their gaze locked like that of two bulls locking horns.

  ‘You are Vernon Witherston’s daughter, are you not?’

  His quiet words dropped like a hail of arrows piercing every part of her body. Quivering with shock, her face still with emotion that she tried very hard not to show, she turned her back on him and said, ‘I’d like you to go now.’

  * * *

  After relaying the details of Maurice’s visit to William later that evening. Alison felt guilty at the look of worry on the old man’s face.

  ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be burdening you like this.’

  ‘Nonsense, child. Whom else would you tell? So Maurice knows of your relationship with Vernon, and suspects you of trying to attach yourself to this nephew and thereby strengthen ties with the wealthy Frenchwoman. This sounds a very long-term project. Do you think your father would be prepared to wait that long?’

  ‘His present position is not so uncomfortable. I suspect he is living off his lover, a Maria Cicognani, who is sponsored by Madam.’

  William’s head nodded in agreement.

  ‘We must clear your name if you are to find work in a respectable company.’

  Alison rose and moved around to the back of his chair where she put her arms around his shoulders and placed a kiss on his bald head.

  He reached up to cover one of her hands with his own.

  ‘If your meeting with Vernon was a surprise to both of you and he knew you would never consider helping him in any way, then what was he doing there? What do you think he is up to?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, straightening. ‘Perhaps he is going straight now he’s found someone to live off and is simply there as a guest.’

  ‘Umm …’

  ‘Oh, I don’t care, William. I’ll find work and if I can’t keep my flat then perhaps you will allow me to board with you again until I can find somewhere cheaper.’

  She stood in front of the fire and stared down into the living flames.

  * * *

  Six days later she found another job whose salary would allow her, with a bit of scrimping, to stay in her flat.

  The work would be a little boring after the duties she had been used to, but the conditions were reasonable and the people in charge were nice.

  ‘Negative word, dear child, nice. Is it so bad?’ William asked.

  ‘No, not really. I’ll be looking out for something more interesting later.’

  That evening, Sharon rang.

  ‘Alison, everything’s gone haywire here.’ She was breathless with the desire to impart her news. ‘There’s police all over the place. Mrs Tremble is telling them off and blaming the company.’

  ‘What have the company to do with anything?’

  ‘It’s a robbery. There’s been a robbery at the big house. Maurice had accused some bloke staying there, and the owner and her nephew have done a moonlight flit. They’re taking the office apart at this moment. That’s why I’m phoning from the bar.’

  Alison could hear the noisy people in the bar.

  ‘Who’s taking the office apart?’

  ‘The police are. There’s this really dishy reporter wants to talk to me but I daren’t say anything. I don’t really know anything but I might string him along for a free dinner.’

  ‘Has anyone mentioned my name?’

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘Then do me a favour, Sharon, and don’t tell a soul. I’ll explain later.’

  Why did Etienne and his aunt flee, and Vernon and his girlfriend stay if he was guilty of the robbery, Alison puzzled.

  Surely this was what Vernon had been planning all along, and yet now it didn’t make sense. She was so confused she wanted to go to the police and ask them what was happening, but that was forbidden to her.

  No sleep kept the nightmares away but didn’t stop the image flashing through her mind; looking across at the lovely lady lying so still on the big bed and being told she had gone to heaven. Where was heaven, the little girl asked, but no-one ever answered.

  * * *

  Next morning she ran down to the corner newsstand and bought several papers. Nothing was mentioned about a Sussex robbery and Alison left for her first day in her new job.

  Standing by the stove that evening, Alison became aware of the mention of a house in Sussex on the television news.

  She dropped the spoon into the saucepan and flew out of the kitchen just in time to hear her father’s name mentioned.

  It was all too much and she began to rage and cry until, worn out, she fell asleep. Banging on the door downstairs woke her. The place was filled with smoke and she choked as she tried to get to her feet. She staggered into the kitchen holding a cushion to her mouth.

  Smoke billowed from the cooker where the bottom of an aluminium pan was a melted pile of metal in the bottom of the hob while a black offering hid behind the smoke-darkened glass door of the oven.

  Alison had managed to switch off the heat and was making her way out of the kitchen and towards the window with the intention of opening it when there was an almighty crash and her front door smashed inward scattering splinters of wood.

  Alison hurried back to the top of the stairs, coughing and choking as the smoke whirled around her reacting to the sudden rush of fresh air. She collided with someone as he pushed past her and ran to the window.

  The window slammed up and the draught swept away the smoke leaving mess and Maurice behind it.

  Alison sat down as Maurice marched into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water in his hand.

  An ambulance siren sounded in the road and two paramedics came running into the mews and up the stairs.

  ‘Oh, no,’ she moaned in a hoarse voice. ‘You didn’t!’

  She glared angrily at Maurice.

  She was draped in a blanket and led outside to the waiting ambulance. Through the closing doors, she caught sight of the flash of a camera.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘The reception area is full of newspaper people,’ the nurse complained. Then her curiosity got the better of her. ‘Are you someone important?’

  Alison shook her head. Her throat was sore and it still hurt to talk. They had kept her in overnight but the doctor had pronounced her fit to go home this morning.

  She wasn’t looking forward to pushing her way through a crowd of rep
orters.

  It was ten-fifteen and Alison was ready to leave when her nurse burst into the cubicle, all of a dither.

  ‘Your friend is here to collect you.’

  With a frown Alison turned to face the socalled friend as the curtain surrounding the cubicle was pulled back.

  Maurice was standing by the central desk chatting to one of the doctors, as though he owns the place, Alison thought, then bit down on her lip.

  At least she would be grateful not to have to face the reporters alone.

  As he caught the movement of the curtain round her bed, he left the doctor and walked down the ward to meet her.

  ‘This is kind of you but they would have called me a taxi, you know.’

  ‘Where were you going?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘The flat isn’t fit to live in until it’s been cleaned.’

  He took her arm as they left the lift and made for the front entrance.

  ‘I am quite capable of cleaning my own flat and the sooner it is done the better. Besides I have to get back to work.’

  The group of reporters was smaller than she had anticipated, and it didn’t take Maurice long to make a path through them to the car.

  * * *

  Once they were underway, Maurice said, ‘There really isn’t any necessity to rush back to work, you know. Take all the time you need.’

  Was it possible the man had totally forgotten he had sacked her?

  ‘I am afraid my new employers are not quite so generous.’

  The car screeched to a halt, nearly causing a fatal accident.

  ‘What did you say?’ he asked while steering the car into the nearest vacant space at the kerb.

  ‘Did you think I was going to spend the rest of my life hiding because you thought I was a criminal?’

  She glanced about her not recognising the area at all but she loosened her seat belt and prepared to get out. There was always public: transport.

  ‘Sit still,’ he snapped. ‘and rebuckle that belt.’

  The car moved back into the traffic before she could argue.

  ‘This isn’t my road,’ she said when they came to a final halt in front of a terrace of tall, Georgian houses.

  ‘No. it’s mine.’