by Anne Mather
“You’re crazy!” she exclaimed. “Lewis isn’t like that.” But even as she spoke the words she wondered if they were strictly true. Lewis had been more persistent of late.
“I think we’d better go,” she said, reaching for her cream mohair coat. It was a beautiful coat that Paul had bought for her, and it enhanced the fairness of her complexion. If Paul recognized the coat he gave no sign and merely shrugged his assent at her suggestion.
The Facel Vega was parked below. It looked out of place in the rather subdued mews, but Karen felt the warmth flooding her body again when she realized she had an evening in Paul’s company ahead of her.
Paul put her into the car and then walked lazily round the bonnet and slid in beside her behind the wheel. As they drove away, they passed a car parked in the dark pool at the far side of the mews. It was a dark saloon, and Karen had the strangest feeling that it was Lewis’s car. Had he been watching to see how long Paul stayed in the apartment? The idea appalled and infuriated her. She wondered if she ought to mention her suspicions to Paul and then decided against it. He would be all for turning back and confronting him, and she felt she couldn’t face another scene tonight.
But why was he there? Of what possible interest could their casual relationship be to him? Unless he was jealous. She remembered again his attitude the night of the ball. It was very worrying.
Paul glanced curiously at her a number of times as they drove the short distance to her mother’s home. She had withdrawn into herself somehow, and he wished he knew what she was thinking.
They parked outside the house, and Karen slid out before he could come round to help her. Paul slid out also and they both reached the front door together. She inserted her key in the lock and they went inside. Paul was just behind her and the poignancy of the situation washed over her. The last time they had come here together they had still been married.
Liza, hearing them, appeared from the kitchen at once. She looked absolutely astounded to see Paul, and her astonishment showed in her open face.
“Why, Mr. Frazer, sir!” she cried. “What a shock you gave me!”
“I’m sorry, Liza,” said Paul, smiling his attractive smile, and causing Liza to blush prettily and smooth down her apron in an attempt to appear unflustered.
“And how is my favourite housekeeper?” he asked, easily, loosening his overcoat.
Liza giggled merrily and Karen sighed. Paul could charm anyone, and Liza had always been an easy victim.
“Mrs. Stacey and Sandra are in the lounge,” she said, indicating the closed door. “I believe they’re watching television.”
“Thank you, Liza,” said Karen, glancing at Paul for a second. Then she moved forward and opened the lounge door.
As Liza had said, Madeline and her younger daughter were watching television, although Madeline was knitting as well, a vivid scarlet piece of work. Sandra was draped untidily in her chair, dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a skin-tight sweater with no sleeves. She looked bored and resentful, and when she saw Karen and Paul she sprang to her feet.
“Well, well,” she exclaimed dramatically. “Look who’s here! What are these, Mother? Reinforcements?”
Madeline thrust away her knitting and she too stood up, staring disbelievingly at Paul.
“Dear boy!” she cried. “What a wonderful surprisé!” Karen felt like saying that Paul was certainly no boy, but Madeline continued: “What does this mean?” Her eyes flickered speculatively to Karen.
“Not what you think it means,” commented Karen dryly. “Paul wants to speak to you, Mother. He has a proposition to suggest.”
“A proposition!” Madeline looked intrigued. Her life had been rather dull of late, and now this annoying business with Sandra had depressed her terribly. But this sounded exciting. Paul had always been so generous towards her. He understood her little ways. She smiled charmingly. “Well, what is it?” she prompted.
Karen looked at Sandra. “I think it would be as well if Sandra left us alone for a while,” she said quietly. “Could you go to your room, honey, and play some records for five minutes?”
Sandra frowned. “Why should I do that?” she exclaimed angrily. “I’m not a child. What is it you have to say that I can’t hear?”
Paul looked directly at her. “You’ll be told soon enough. Just give us a few minutes alone with your mother, please.”
Sandra responded to Paul’s quiet injunction. He was at once gentle and reassuring and she had always wanted to please him before anyone else.
“Will it take long?” she asked pleadingly. “Is it about Simon?”
“Relax!” said Paul, his patience holding out.
“But are you going to split on me? Paul, you can’t!” Her face was appealing. Begging him to go away and not say anything of what he had heard to her mother.
“Don’t worry,” said Paul, his voice a little harder. “Whatever I have to say to your mother is for your own good.”
Sandra’s face changed. “You’re all the same,” she cried, tears beginning to overflow her eyes. “You all hate me. You don’t want me to be happy.”
“That’s enough,” said Paul, his voice now as cold as ice. “Go to your room, Sandra, and stay there until you’re sent for.”
Sandra flounced out, slamming the door behind her, and they heard her footsteps as she ran sobbing up the stairs.
Madeline looked reproachfully at Paul. “Poor Sandra,” she said. “You were always her hero. You’ve really broken faith with her.”
“Sandra needed firm handling years ago,” retorted Paul, offering Karen a cigarette. “Shall we sit down?”
“Of course. Do forgive me.” Madeline turned off the television, and Karen subsided on to an armchair. Paul himself sat down on the couch, leaning forward, legs apart, his fingers toying with his cigarette. Karen looked at him and felt her heart contract. No man should affect her the way that Paul affected her. Just looking at him caused the bones in her body to melt away and gave her an insatiable desire to touch him.
As if Paul was conscious of her scrutiny, he looked at her just then, and for a moment their eyes met. She was forced to look away first; she was afraid of the emotion he might see in her eyes.
She drew on her cigarette. What did he really think of this affair? What did he really think of her mother? Of Sandra?
“Well, Mother,” began Karen awkwardly, taking the first plunge, “Sandra has still been trying to see Simon.”
“What?” Madeline was horrified. “Are you sure?”
“Of course we’re sure,” said Karen, with a brief glance at Paul.
Madeline frowned, her face deepening in colour. “But you told me …” she began, angrily.
Paul interrupted the tirade which was about to start.
“Before you say any more, Madeline, I suggest you hear what else there is to hear.”
Madeline flushed deeper. “That’s all very well, but I thought Karen had spoken to you about this earlier on.”
“So she did,” exclaimed Paul. “It’s not been so successful, however. Your darling teenager has been writing passionate letters to Simon and telephoning him. She even went so far as to ring him at him home and Julia began complaining.”
Madeline was flabbergasted. That her little Sandra should act in such a shameless way was positively stunning. She had never grown beyond the stage of seeing Sandra as a child with dolls and dolls’ prams, playing in the street, her fair chubbiness making her the envy of all the mothers round about.
She now pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh no!” she groaned, half disbelievingly. “How could she do such a thing? Degrading herself like that!”
“Mother, please,” exclaimed Karen, sighing. “Don’t be hysterical.”
“Me? Hysterical?” gasped Mrs. Stacey wildly. “How can you talk like that? How can you be so complacent about it? Your own sister involved with a married man! I’m sorry, Paul, but you know what a waster Simon is. As for you, Karen, have you no feelings? I believe you don’
t care about us at all. You and your independence! A fine mess both you and Sandra are making of your lives.”
Karen flushed and looked uncomfortably at Paul. What must he be thinking? she wondered. Until now, her mother had always behaved with the utmost decorum in his presence. This spate of wild accusations must be a revelation to him.
In truth, Paul was astounded at Madeline’s attempts to put the whole blame of the situation on Karen. After all, she had really no one to blame but herself.
“Madeline,” he said distinctly, “Karen has no part in this, no part at all. You are to blame. You spoiled Sandra all her life, brought her up to believe she could have anything she wanted. Now that she finds life isn’t all a bed of roses, she’s taking it hard!”
Madeline was taken aback. Until now only Karen had ever criticized her in this way. “Sandra is only a child!” she exclaimed tearfully. “I’m sure I’ve only tried to do my best for her. I am her mother, you know. She hardly knew her father. If I’ve indulged her a little –”
“Oh, let’s at least be honest!” Paul was blunt. “You’ve ruined Sandra and I doubt very much that either of you could change at this late date.” He ignored Madeline’s imploring eyes. “I want to help you, not merely for Sandra’s sake, but for Simon, too. I put a suggestion to Karen this afternoon which she agrees might help to solve the problem. It was she who thought we ought to hear your reactions before acting upon it.”
Mrs. Stacey wiped her eyes dramatically. “You’re not thinking of taking Sandra away from me?” she implored.
“Of course not, Mother,” cried Karen exasperatedly. “We’re not inhuman!”
Madeline sniffed. “Go on, then, Paul.”
“It’s simply this.” Paul sighed. “You and Sandra leave London, for a few weeks. You go away and take a holiday in the sun together, and Sandra will doubtless forget all about Simon in the search for more, shall we say, local talent. Naturally, I will take it upon myself to pay all your expenses, plus some spending money.”
Madeline’s eyes grew rounder every second and Karen thought, half disgustedly, that the money involved meant nothing to her mother as long as she was going to enjoy herself. She even wondered whether Sandra was really considered in those first few minutes after Paul’s announcement.
“Why, Paul!” she cried at last. “What a wonderful idea! I don’t know how to thank you. It seems an ideal solution.”
Paul looked rather cynical. Karen realized that he knew just how strong was the power of money in almost anything. Madeline had been revealed as a keen contestant in the money-grabbing stakes and her feelings for Sandra were secondary by comparison.
“I gather you’re agreeable,” remarked Paul softly.
“But of course!” said Madeline excitedly, mentally imagining herself away from the rather polluted atmosphere of London at the moment. “Karen, my dear, forgive me. This is a wonderful solution. And here was I, imagining that you didn’t care about us.”
“It’s Paul idea,” replied Karen dryly. “Don’t thank me. I had nothing to do with it.”
Madeline made a teasing face at her elder daughter, but Karen refused to respond to the open invitation. She felt she had had enough of her mother for one evening.
Paul looked intently at Karen for a moment, noticing her rather strained expression. He could understand her feelings. She had been all for refusing his offer and managing on her own. To find her mother overjoyed at the prospect of what was, for her, a free holiday could not be pleasing.
He drew on his cigarette and exhaled the blue smoke into the air with slow deliberation. Then he said thoughtfully:
“I suggest you go to Spain. It’s very pleasant there at this time of the year.”
Karen gasped. “Spain!” she echoed in amazement, ignoring her mother’s exhilarated expression. “Paul, I was under the impression that you meant somewhere in the south of England, maybe the west coast or something.”
Paul shrugged his broad shoulders. “A holiday? In England at this time of the year?” he said, his voice amused. “My dear Karen, there would be no pleasure in sea fronts and high winds and watery sunshine.”
“No, indeed,” exclaimed Madeline, twisting her fingers together in anticipation. “Oh, Paul, what a wonderful trip this will be!”
Paul flicked the ash from his cigarette into the fire.
“Good,” he said easily. “And now I suggest we allow you to tell Sandra yourself. I think it will probably be as well if you ignore the fact of Sandra meeting Simon recently and merely suggest a holiday because your health has been rather poor lately and I agreed to finance you. It’s rather thin, I know, but once you’re away from here, lazing on the Costa Brava, you will find that Sandra is much more amiable towards the idea.”
“All right, Paul. You know best. I’m sure Sandra will soon find herself another boy-friend once we are away from your brother. Until now she has seemed quite satisfied with boys of her own age. I can only assume that Simon encouraged her quite outrageously.”
Karen rose to her feet, her face unsmiling.
“I think we’ll go, Mother,” she said coolly. “You can let me know if you want anything. If you have any problems.” This last sounded quite sarcastic, but she couldn’t help it. Her mother really was as transparent as glass, although at times the glass had two sides.
Madeline was too engrossed with her own thoughts to pay much heed to Karen’s expression. She merely nodded and looked up at Paul.
Paul himself strolled to the door. “By the way,” he remarked, “I’ll have my secretary fix up the details with you, hotels, air tickets, etc. We will fix the accommodation and you will simply have to obtain passports for yourself and Sandra. Could you be ready to leave in a week?”
“Oh, I should think so. Yes!” exclaimed Madeline, standing up also now. “Paul darling, I do want to thank you for this, most fervently.”
“It’s nothing,” said Paul abruptly, and opened the lounge door. He took his own and Karen’s coat from the hall closet, which he remembered from his days of being married to Karen, and helped her on with hers. As he slipped the garment on to her shoulders allowing her to slide in her arms, he reflected that it was quite like old times here. They had visited her mother quite regularly, although many times it had just been a duty visit. He remembered how they had enjoyed getting home again after listening to a monologue from Madeline about the afternoon’s bridge party, and how they had removed their coats and flung themselves down in front of the fire in the lounge of Trevayne, and talked about things in general until the early hours, happy just being alone together.
How great was the transition from those days! How could he forgive Karen for ruining his life?
As they drove back to Karen’s apartment, Paul said:
“Have you had dinner?”
Karen looked at him in surprise. “No, why? I was going to go back home and have a snack.”
Paul nodded and said: “Would you have dinner with me, then?”
Karen’s eyes widened. “If you like,” she agreed, smiling a little. “What am I to be? A stop-gap?”
Paul sounded amused himself. “My dear Karen, you couldn’t be called that by any stretch of the imagination. No … I’m free for the rest of the evening and so are you, so why don’t we spend it together?”
“Why, indeed?” she remarked dryly, but inwardly her heart was dancing. At least an evening in his company was something.
They drove out of London to a roadhouse called the Ebony Cane.
It was near Maidstone and Karen had never even heard of the place, but as they crossed the threshold into the pile-carpeted hall she was very impressed by the luxurious décor and glamorous hostesses. The furniture too had been designed to suit the place, with ebony-legged tables and vases of flowers shaped like walking-sticks. The lighting was brilliant and counterbalanced the almost overwhelming black and white effect of everything. Black carpets and sparkling white damask table covers, black chairs with soft white seats, and the hostesses
in black and white outfits of bodice and tights, with white aprons which gave a mock-businesslike effect.
The manager himself attended to Paul, recognizing him immediately, and although the room was crowded, strings were pulled and a table for two was found in a secluded alcove.
Karen removed her coat and slipped into the seat the manager held for her while Paul ordered Martinis and picked up the menu. He studied it for a moment and then Karen said:
“You seem quite well known here.”
He smiled amiably. “I should be,” he remarked casually. “The company owns the place.”
Karen’s eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know they dabbled in the catering field.”
“They don’t normally. It’s a try-out of an idea. We designed the layout, and if it pays off we should get a lot of publicity from it.”
Karen nodded approvingly. “Very clever,” she said, shrugging her slim shoulders. “And I suppose it was your idea?”
Paul grinned. “How did you guess?” He looked fully at her. “Are you hungry?”
“Not particularly, I’m afraid. Why? Did you design the menu as well?”
Paul smiled. “Touché,” he murmured. “Shall I order?”
“With pleasure,” replied Karen. “You’ll know all the nicest things.”
“Not only about food,” he remarked dryly, an amused expression in his eye.
Karen flushed and was glad when the head waiter appeared to take their order. Paul chose a large assortment of dishes and Karen hoped she could do justice to them.
After he had ordered, they had cigarettes, and Karen allowed her gaze to wander around the room. She found that quite a few eyes turned their way and she wondered whether they were people who knew Paul. And if so, did they know her?
The contemporary style of the room was quite extraordinary and she could quite see many people talking about it and in turn bringing more people to the roadhouse.
“How long has the place been open?” she asked Paul curiously.
Paul shrugged. “I guess about two months,” he replied smoothly. “Do you like it?”
Karen shrugged herself. “I like it, but it’s way out, really. Do many people go for this kind of thing?”
