by Anne Mather
Alexis shook his head and she put the glass into his hand. ‘That’s fine, thank you.’ He swallowed a mouthful, and then went on: ‘Why do you say your father’s angry? Because I sent him home?’
Karen twisted her hands together wishing he would sit down. ‘I – I suppose so,’ she replied, wishing she had not mentioned it. Her father wouldn’t be very pleased if he knew what she had said.
Alexis nodded, looking down thoughtfully into his glass. Watching him, Karen was aware of every small detail about him, her eyes lingering on the fine material of the dark suit he was wearing, a dark grey fur-lined overcoat on top. His hands holding the glass were lean and hard and tanned, like the rest of him, and a disturbing feeling of apprehension ran through her. She had only been a young girl when she met him seven years ago – seventeen, little more than a child really. But she was a woman now, and whatever it was he had possessed then, he still possessed to a greater degree, and she did not intend to be foolish enough to tamper with it. Her own experience had taught her that if nothing else.
He looked up. ‘I’m afraid your father doesn’t like me.’
Karen glanced round apprehensively, half expecting her father to appear at any moment. But judging from the silence upstairs she could only assume he was still sleeping. ‘I – er – I’m sure you’re wrong.’
‘No, I’m not. He doesn’t think I know anything about the wool trade. He thinks this is only a game to me.’
‘And isn’t it?’ The words were out before she could prevent them.
‘No.’ His brows were drawn together and suddenly he looked very formidable. ‘I intend to do this job to the best of my ability, and it would make things a whole lot simpler if your father accepted this.’
Karen bent to pick up an errant exercise book. ‘Well, it’s nothing to do with me, Mr. Whitney.’
‘Isn’t it?’ His tone was curt. ‘I’m beginning to think it is.’
‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes were very wide and very blue.
‘Surely it’s obvious.’ He finished the whisky in his glass and dropped it carelessly on to the mantelshelf. ‘I’m the man who once tried to persuade his daughter to sleep with me!’
Karen’s cheeks burned, and she pressed the palms of her hands to them. ‘Don’t say that!’ she cried.
‘Why not?’ His lips curved derisively. ‘You do remember, Karen, however much you try to deny it.’
‘All right, all right.’ Karen glanced fearfully over her shoulder, but there was no sound. ‘All right, I remember. But – but my parents never learned the identity of – of the man!’
‘Didn’t they?’ Alexis was ironic. ‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘Nevertheless, it’s the truth.’ Karen’s hands dropped to her sides. ‘Now, if you’ve said everything you came to say, perhaps you’d go!’
Alexis studied her intently, his eyes dropping down over her tall, slender young body with insolent appraisal. It was a devastating analysis, and Karen tensed. ‘So you teach at the comprehensive school,’ he remarked, at last.
‘How do you know that?’
‘Well, I could say that as you were escorting a party of teenagers in Grüssmatte, it was a reasonable assumption that you were a teacher, but I’ll be honest and admit that John told me.’
‘John?’
‘McMullen.’
‘Oh! The manager of the combing.’
‘That’s right.’ Alexis removed his attention from her to pick up one of the exercise books she had left lying on the side table. ‘The decline and fall of empire denotes a general decadence in administration,’ he read, with amusement. ‘Since when has decadence had a y?’
Karen held out her hand for the book, but he ignored it, and read on until Karen’s nerves were stretched to screaming pitch. She stared at the clock on the mantelshelf behind him. It was nearly half past nine. Her mother had gone out soon after seven-thirty, surely she could not be much longer!
At last he dropped the book back on to the pile and gave her his attention again. ‘Your father’s in bed, I gather,’ and at her nod, he went on: ‘Did the doctor give any idea as to how long he would be away from work?’
Karen shrugged. ‘He has to stay in bed at least three days. After that – I don’t know. Perhaps one week, maybe two.’
‘I see.’ Alexis considered this thoughtfully. Then: ‘And you? How are you? Recovered from your mountain expedition?’
Karen moved towards the door. ‘I’m perfectly all right, thank you, Mr. Whitney. Are you?’
‘Oh, yes. Fine.’ He paused. ‘Tell me something, did you recognize me in Grüssmatte?’
Karen sighed. ‘I don’t see that it matters.’
‘It does to me.’
‘Well, then – yes. Yes, I recognized you.’
‘Why didn’t you say so? You must have known when I questioned you I wasn’t just making conversation.’
‘How could I know that?’
‘Damn you, because I don’t need to employ that kind of an introduction,’ he snapped, his temper aroused by her assumed indifference. Then, schooling himself, he went on: ‘I didn’t immediately recognize you because you’ve changed.’
Karen put her hand on the door handle. ‘I expect we all do that,’ she managed in a casual tone.
Alexis studied her for a few agonizing moments longer, and then with a slight movement of his shoulders he walked to the door, stopping directly in front of her. ‘Will you have dinner with me one evening?’ he asked quietly, his eyes intent. ‘Let’s just say – for old times’ sake.’
Karen took a backward step. ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea,’ she replied, more calmly than she felt.
‘Why not?’
Karen gestured towards the hall. ‘Thank you for calling. I’ll give my father your regards.’
‘Karen!’
His tawny eyes darkened with anger, and she felt a tremor of awareness run through her, but even as she contemplated flight, the necessity for such a thing disappeared. A key turned in the lock, and a moment later Laura Sinclair stepped into the hall, brushing smudges of snow from her coat.
‘Oh!’ She stopped short at the sight of Karen and the tall stranger standing in the living-room doorway, and then exclaimed: ‘Why, it’s Mr. Whitney, isn’t it?’
Alexis passed Karen then and went to shake hands with her mother, leaving her feeling suddenly bereft. ‘That’s right, Mrs. Sinclair,’ he said politely. ‘I just called to see how your husband was feeling.’
‘That was kind of you.’ Laura glanced towards her daughter. ‘Have you been here long? Won’t you stay and have some supper?’
‘Mr. Whitney was just leaving,’ said Karen quickly. ‘Weren’t you, Mr. Whitney?’
Alexis looked round at her. ‘What?’ His eyes narrowed, and for a heart-shaking moment she thought he was going to contradict her. ‘Oh – yes, yes, I suppose I was. I’m sorry, Mrs. Sinclair. I – er – I have an appointment – later.’
Laura gave an understanding smile. ‘Of course. Anyway, it was thoughtful of you to take the trouble to come here at all. I’m sure Dan will appreciate it.’
‘Are you?’ Alexis sounded less assured about that. ‘Well—’ He looked again at Karen, but she bent her head, avoiding his eyes. ‘It’s been very nice meeting you both. Good night.’
‘Good night.’
Laura opened the door for him and watched him walk down the path before closing it again. Then she turned to Karen, and her expression was less benign. ‘What did he say to you?’ she demanded. ‘You look upset.’
‘Don’t be silly, Mum.’ Karen turned and went back into the living-room. ‘I – I was surprised to have him come here, that’s all.’
Laura took off her coat and hung it in the hall closet before joining her daughter. ‘Yes, I suppose it was unexpected,’ she conceded. ‘Did he want to see your father?’
‘I don’t think so. In any case, Pop was asleep. He still is, as far as I know.’
Laura nodded, and
stood for a moment staring into the fire. ‘He doesn’t change much, does he? He always was an attractive devil!’
‘How should I know?’ Karen flung herself on to the couch and picked up a magazine.
Laura looked at her. ‘You’ve seen him before. He spent quite a lot of time with the McMullens when he was at university in Leeds.’
Karen pretended an indifference she didn’t feel. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘Oh, yes, you do, Karen.’ Laura took a deep breath. ‘I happen to know you went out with him.’
Karen’s head jerked up. ‘Me?’
‘Yes, you, Karen. I know what I’m talking about. There were plenty of people in Wakeley only too willing to tell me that my daughter was getting herself talked about by associating with Howard Whitney’s son.’
Karen flung the magazine aside and shrugged helplessly. ‘I had no idea!’ she exclaimed.
‘I know that.’
‘Did – did Pop know?’ Karen’s eyes were wide.
Her mother shook her head. ‘No. Do you think if he had, he’d have let it rest there?’
‘I suppose not.’ Karen got restlessly to her feet. ‘Why didn’t you tell him? You knew he would have stopped me seeing Alexis?’
‘And what good would that have done? You’d have found some way to meet him, if you really wanted to. No, I was quite prepared to wait until you came to your senses, as I was sure you would.’
‘But I didn’t, did I? Not really. If Daddy hadn’t found out where I was going that week-end, I might – well, have gone through with it.’
Laura shrugged. ‘If I’d thought there was any danger, then I should have interfered. But quite honestly, you didn’t seem particularly sorry when your father prevented you from going.’
‘No.’ Karen was thoughtful. ‘I wasn’t. I – I was scared, I guess.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve often wondered what Alexis thought when I didn’t turn up. That letter I sent was so – so inadequate.’
‘Then perhaps it’s just as well we sent you to your aunt’s in Keswick, isn’t it? Thank heaven, you were still at school, and not tied down to some job.’
Karen nodded, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her trousers. ‘You must have felt quite perturbed when Daddy told us Alexis was coming back to Wakeley.’
Laura made an indifferent gesture. ‘Not particularly. After all, you’re older. You’ve got more sense. And then there’s Ray. Not to mention the fact that you’re not at all the kind of woman to attract him now. He’s used to a much more sophisticated set.’
Karen knew that what her mother was saying was true, but that didn’t prevent a small core of dissatisfaction from spreading through her system. She wondered what her mother would say if she told her that Alexis had asked her to have dinner with him one evening. She had refused that was true, too, but there was a disturbing awareness inside her that the attraction he had held for her seven years ago was not dead.
During the next few days, Karen’s father made a slow but steady improvement, although it was obvious it would be several weeks before he could resume working. Both John McMullen and Jim Summerton, the director of the Wakeley branch of Whitney Textiles, called to see him and offer their good wishes for his speedy recovery, and their concern seemed to lighten the burden of his incapacity. His reactions to Alexis Whitney’s inquiry were typically brusque.
The weather continued very cold. As it was freezing most of the time, the snow did not have a chance to melt and disappear, and in consequence the moorland slopes on the outskirts of the town became the rendezvous for all kinds of winter sports. Karen and Ray joined the younger members of his family and went tobogganing and she came home flushed and exhilarated after a particularly strenuous evening to find the dark green Aston Martin, which she recognized as belonging to Alexis Whitney, parked outside her house.
Ray frowned as he brought his medium-sized saloon to a halt behind the sports car. ‘Visitors?’ he asked, in surprise.
Karen sighed. ‘I think it’s Daddy’s boss,’ she replied, and then, on impulse, went on: ‘Won’t you come in for a few minutes? For coffee?’
‘It is rather late,’ said Ray, glancing at his watch. ‘I had some marking to do, actually.’
Karen tugged his arm appealingly. ‘Please!’
Ray capitulated. ‘Oh, all right. Just for ten minutes, then. But what about your father? Won’t he mind when his superior’s there?’
Karen pushed open her door and slid out. ‘Don’t be silly, Ray. You’re almost one of the family.’
Ray locked the car. ‘Almost, but not quite. Thought any more about what I asked you?’
Karen sighed and tucked her arm through his. ‘Of course I have. Just give me a little time, Ray.’
Inside there were voices coming from the living-room, and Karen indicated that Ray should take his coat off while she hung her parka away in the hall closet. Then, summoning all her courage, she opened the living-room door.
Her father and mother were seated in the armchairs on either side of the fireplace, while Alexis was relaxing lazily on the couch. Her father was wearing his dressing-gown, as he had only just begun to get up in the afternoons for a while, and a rug was tucked about his feet.
When Karen entered the room followed closely by Ray, Alexis got immediately to his feet and regarded them with those strange tawny eyes of his. In a cream denim suit with a belted jacket and narrow-fitting trousers he looked lean and powerful, his thick, straight, light hair brushing his collar.
Laura Sinclair rose hastily and interposed herself between Alexis and the two by the door. ‘You know my daughter, of course, Mr. Whitney,’ she said politely. ‘And this is Ray Nichols, her boy-friend.’
Karen cringed at her mother’s choice of words. It made her feel young and immature again, a teenager with teenage friends.
Alexis as usual was calm and relaxed. ‘How do you do, Mr. Nichols,’ he said, shaking Ray’s hand with casual ease, and Ray responded automatically. Then his gaze moved on to Karen, making her overwhelmingly conscious of her wind-roughened cheeks and tangled hair. ‘Hello again, Miss Sinclair.’
‘Hello.’ Karen gave an awkward grimace in lieu of a smile, and moved into the room, going to warm her hands unnecessarily at the fire.
‘Won’t you sit down again, Mr. Whitney?’ Laura indicated the couch, but Alexis shook his head.
‘I’m afraid I shall have to be going,’ he replied apologetically. ‘But I’ll call again and discuss this when we have more time, Dan.’
Karen’s father moved his shoulders irritably. ‘I don’t see what there is to discuss. It’s all been decided, if you ask me.’
Alexis moved towards the door. ‘I’ll see you later,’ he said, and smiling at Laura he went out into the hall.
Karen glanced round as he left the room feeling a momentary pang that he should go without saying any more. But what did she expect him to say? What did she want him to say?
The sound of the front door closing behind him brought her father to life. ‘I knew it,’ he muttered, looking up into Ray’s uncomprehending face. ‘I knew it. No sooner is he here than he’s trying to change the system! My God, I’ve heard of men being fired because of mechanization, but not because of de-mechanization!’
Laura, coming back into the room at that moment, said: ‘They’re not being fired, Dan—’
‘All right. Being made redundant, then. It amounts to the same thing. They won’t have jobs, will they?’
Laura sighed. ‘Nothing’s been decided yet. You know that.’
‘Huh!’ Her husband sounded sceptical, and Ray said:
‘What’s happening? How is he planning to de-mechanize? I thought there was no mechanization in the wool sorting. It’s all done by hand, isn’t it?’
‘The sorting, yes. This is concerned with the conveying of wool from the warehouse to the sorters. At the moment we have a conveyor belt. That’s where the mechanization comes in.’
‘I see.’ Ray sat down by the fire and held out his hand
s to the flames. ‘And you say this chap’s going to do away with your conveyor belt system?’
‘Well, that’s his idea.’
‘Why, Pop?’ Karen was interested in spite of herself.
Her father frowned at her name for him but didn’t refer to it then. Instead he went on: ‘At the moment, we have two chaps putting bales of wool on to the conveyor belt in the warehouse. Then there are two more chaps who take it off the belt in the sorting department and distribute it by the means of hand barrows to the individual sorters.’
‘That sounds reasonable.’ Ray offered Karen’s father a cigarette, but he refused.
‘It is reasonable. I was there when the conveyor belt was installed.’
‘Then what’s the problem?’ asked Karen, growing impatient.
Her father frowned. ‘Whitney thinks it’s a waste of manpower. He says one man, with the use of a forklift truck, could do the job more efficiently.’
Ray considered this for a few minutes. ‘But wouldn’t that slow the job down? I mean, at the moment you can put any number of bales on to the conveyor belt at any one time.’
‘My point exactly. Oh, I can see what he’s trying to do, of course. It’s obvious. His whole objective is to cut the finances of the department to an absolute minimum, and if he can go back to old Howard and tell him how he’s saved him half a dozen men’s wages, he’ll think he’s some kind of miracle worker.’
Karen listened in silence. For all she had it from her own father what Alexis was trying to do, she couldn’t altogether accept it. She would never have believed him to be a mean man, whatever his faults, and surely he was not small enough as to make men redundant just to ingratiate himself with the accounts department. It didn’t altogether add up, but it was not up to her to make that kind of assessment.
Laura, too, seemed to have heard enough. ‘Dan Sinclair,’ she exclaimed heatedly, ‘I am getting heartily sick of hearing you grumbling about that man. If you ask me you’re jealous because you didn’t get offered the job, and you’re finding any reason to be awkward!’
Karen’s father had the grace to look slightly subdued. ‘You don’t understand, Laura—’
