by Anne Mather
‘Are you taking a villa again, Richard?’ Shelley looked suddenly brighter. ‘Because if you are, perhaps I could join Olivia for a few days …’
‘I’m sorry …’
Richard’s face was bleak, and even as she registered this fact, Olivia also absorbed the certain knowledge that Shelley was using her. Their friendship was not simply incidental! They got along together reasonably well, she would not deny that, but until today she had never questioned why Shelley, who always appeared so much more mature, should sustain a friendship that was constantly being strained by months of separation. Shelley was using her to reach Richard; she realised that now, as surely as if she had just stated the fact. By maintaining a friendship with his stepsister, she had regular access to his home, and a genuine excuse to call, and although Olivia sympathised with her abortive feelings for Richard, she could not forgive her methods of accomplishing her objective.
‘I’m afraid Bella has other plans this year,’ she heard Richard continuing now, and she forgot her disappointment with Shelley as she listened to this new development. ‘In consequence, I’ve had to make other arrangements, and we’re going to spend a few weeks with some friends of mine in Dom Joachim.’
‘Dom Joachim?’
Shelley repeated the words that sprang to Olivia’s tongue and Richard nodded.
‘It’s an island. Near Antigua, in the West Indies.’
‘I see.’ Shelley stubbed out her cigarette with more aggression than elegance. ‘Well …’ She rose to her feet and politely Richard did likewise. ‘I suppose I’d better be going. Time’s pressing, and I’ve promised to drive Mummy over to Reading this afternoon. She wants to visit my aunt who’s in hospital there.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
Richard was as affable as ever, but neither of the girls had mistaken his earlier hostility. Olivia set down her cup, and got to her feet too, but it was difficult to summon composure when so many things were conspiring to disconcert her.
‘When will I see you again, Olivia?’
Shelley was speaking to her now, and she was obliged to make some sort of statement. ‘I—er—I’ll ring you,’ she said, taking the easy way out, and Shelley nodded.
‘Don’t forget.’ She paused. ‘You’ll come to the ball, won’t you? Whether or not Richard does.’
That was a difficult one. Olivia thrust her hands into the pockets of her jeans and glanced sideways at her stepbrother. For once she wished he would intervene, but this time he was annoyingly silent, as if he as well as Shelley was waiting for her response.
‘It depends,’ she said at last, and Shelley frowned.
‘It depends?’ she echoed. ‘Depends on what? You’re not planning on doing anything, are you?’
‘I—I might.’ Olivia licked her dry lips. ‘I might get a job.’
‘A job!’ Shelley was obviously flabbergasted, and showed it. ‘What kind of a job?’
‘I—er—I haven’t decided yet.’ Olivia was uncomfortable, not only because of her audience, but also because she was loath to discuss anything with Shelley until she had had time to absorb the things she had learned about her. It was not easy to shrug off a friendship of more than five years, in spite of the other girl’s duplicity, and she needed to think carefully before making any reckless decisions.
‘I shouldn’t have thought you’d need to take a job,’ commented Shelley dryly, making for the door, and Richard’s green eyes narrowed with cold amusement. Olivia guessed he was aware that the dig was directed at him, and coloured anew at the sly implication.
‘Olivia will do whatever she feels she ought to do,’ he remarked, without rancour. ‘It’s to be hoped she’ll take some advice from me.’
Shelley faced him resentfully. ‘I’m sure you’ll see that she does, Richard,’ she retorted, just as pleasantly, but the undercurrents were almost tangible.
The telephone started to ring as they crossed the hall, accompanying Shelley to the door, and excusing himself Richard went to answer it. Olivia was glad of his departure, but Shelley took the opportunity to make her own feelings felt.
‘You want to watch that stepbrother of yours!’ she declared spitefully, her lips taut and angry. ‘You’ll have no life of your own if it’s left to him, I can see that! He thinks he’s omnipotent, that his word is law! Well, if I were you, I’d get myself a job and get as far away from Copley as I could. I wouldn’t be beholden to him for anything!’
That her words to some extent mirrored her own feelings was no comfort. On the contrary, Olivia resented them being voiced so bluntly, and she found herself defending Richard, where a moment before she had been silently berating his arrogance.
‘Richard loves me,’ she said simply. ‘He only wants what’s best for me. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.’
‘Wouldn’t he?’ Shelley stepped outside, clicking her tongue in annoyance when she felt a few spots of rain. ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that, if I were you. He’s ruthless. What he wants, he takes, and right now, it suits him to have you around. But what happens when that time passes? When you begin to bore him? When he finds he wants more than a sister’s affections?’
‘Olivia!’
Richard spoke directly behind her, and Olivia swung round jerkily, wondering how much of their conversation he had overheard.
‘Y—yes?’ she stammered nervously, and was not reassured by the expression in his eyes.
‘You’re wanted on the phone,’ he said without emotion. ‘Some—man wants to speak to you. He said his name was—Jules—Merignac? Is that right?’
‘Jules!’
Olivia’s eager response was enough to confirm that she did indeed know who was calling.
‘Jules Merignac!’ murmured Shelley, herself amazed at the connection. ‘You mean—Jules Merignac, the singer?’
‘Yes. Oh, yes!’
Ignoring Richard’s grim visage, Olivia turned and hurried into the house again, aware as she did so she was doing more than merely answer the phone. She was telling Richard that she was an adult, a woman, a grown person in her own right, with friends and acquaintances he did not know, and a mind of her own to show her independence.
The receiver lay off the hook, on the polished surface of a rosewood table. The flowers in the hall had been renewed that morning, and their perfume was intoxicating as she bent her head to pick up the receiver, inhaling the fragrance of thickly-petalled lilies and dark red roses.
‘Jules?’ She said his name almost tentatively, and it was thrilling to hear the warmth in his response after Richard’s cold censure.
‘Olivia!’ There was satisfaction in his tones. ‘Chérie! It is so good to hear your voice again.’
‘And to hear yours,’ said Olivia jerkily, the words tumbling over themselves to be spoken. ‘Oh, Jules, where are you?’
‘Where do you think? In Paris, naturellement.’
‘Paris?’ It came out with a squeak. ‘But Jules, this must be costing you the earth!’
He laughed. ‘It is worth it to speak with you, mignonne. I could not wait until I came to London. That is almost a week away. I wanted to assure myself that you had not forgotten me, now that you are—how do you say?—back in the arms of your family, non?’
There was a small thud as a door closed, and glancing round Olivia saw that Richard had come back into the hall. His eyes met hers briefly across the expanse of open space between them, then he turned on his heel and strode swiftly across to the leather-faced door of his study. She held her breath a moment longer while he opened the study door and disappeared inside, and then, as Jules asked: ‘Are you still there?’ she swallowed quickly and replied:
‘Yes, yes. There—er—there was someone here, that’s all. I’m sorry, what were you saying?’
‘I was saying I hoped you had not forgotten me,’ he repeated, rather plaintively. ‘Olivia! Who was that man who answered the phone? Was that your father?’
‘No!’ Her laugh was nervous. ‘I told you, my parents
are dead.’
‘Ah, yes. And you live with your brother, I remember.’
‘My stepbrother,’ Olivia corrected him flatly. ‘It was Richard who answered the phone.’
‘Richard—I see. Richard Ross.’
‘No, Richard Jenner. We have different surnames.’
‘Oh, yes.’ He chuckled. ‘I must not forget that.’
Olivia’s fingers tightened round the receiver. ‘So—how are you?’ she asked striving desperately for something to hold his interest. ‘How was the concert? I wished I could have seen it.’
‘A concert is a concert,’ he assured her gently. ‘I wish you could have been there, too. But for different reasons.’
Her breath bubbled in her throat. ‘I’m so glad you rang.’
‘Why, do you know, so am I,’ he replied teasingly. ‘Sweet Olivia! I have thought of no one else since I put you on that plane on Friday. You have no idea how close I came to abandoning the concert and going with you.’
‘Do you mean that?’ she exclaimed breathlessly, while deep inside her she felt the familiar twinges of anxiety at the thought. She could just imagine Alex Bishop’s reaction, confronted by the pop singer and his entourage of noisy fans.
‘Of course.’ His voice was husky now. ‘I cannot wait to see you again. Will you meet me at the airport when I arrive on Thursday, Olivia?’
‘Th—Thursday?’ Olivia’s throat felt dry. ‘Oh, I don’t——’
‘Do not say you will refuse me!’ he interrupted vehemently. ‘My flight arrives about midday. Meet me, and we can have lunch together at my hotel.’
Olivia’s palms were slippery with sweat. ‘Thursday,’ she said again, realising she must sound foolish. ‘Oh, Jules, I don’t know if I can make it.’
‘Why not?’
Why not indeed?
‘Can I let you know?’ she murmured evasively. ‘I—it’s difficult for me to talk right now.’
‘Ah, I see.’ There was relief as well as understanding in his tones. ‘You are not alone.’
‘Yes. No. That is—something like that,’ she agreed lamely.
‘Why did you not say so? But of course, you could not. I understand, Olivia. Big brother is watching you, non?’
‘You’re very astute,’ she said, praying that Richard was not within hearing distance.
‘So—we will make other arrangements,’ Jules declared softly. ‘I have told you the time of my plane. You know the airport well. If you can meet me, give your name to the officials, and I will see you are permitted to join me. There will be cars waiting, you understand, and you can travel back to town with us.’
‘All right.’ This was much simpler. Olivia breathed a sigh of relief. ‘And—and if not?’
‘If not I will ring you from the hotel, naturellement. The minute I arrive, d’accord?’
‘Yes. Oh, yes.’ Olivia hugged the receiver to her. Then: ‘How long will you be in England? Will you be very busy?’
‘Not for you, chérie. But there will be some recording. That is why I have to come to London. Pourtant, I have two weeks, plenty of time for us to get to know one another very well.’
Olivia’s stomach was churning with excitement. ‘I—I’ll look forward to that.’
‘So shall I, chérie, so shall I.’
His farewells were prolonged, and Olivia was trembling and pink-cheeked by the time she replaced the receiver. The bell pinged loudly as the phone was replaced on its rest, and she fully expected Richard to emerge on cue and demand to know how Jules had been able to phone her when their number was ex-directory and what he had wanted.
But the study door remained uncompromisingly closed, and it was left to her to wonder whether she ought not to go to him and explain the situation, rather than wait for him to tackle her with it. The prospect of doing so filled her with alarm, however, and she dreaded his sarcasm when he discovered who and what Jules was. Perhaps Shelley had already told him, or perhaps the name had registered after she had gone to speak to the Frenchman. Whatever, she was convinced he would find the whole affair rather pathetic, and he would never believe that a man of Jules Merignac’s reputation could find anything of lasting interest about her. He would assume he was either after her body or her money, for in spite of her feelings about Richard’s wealth, no one could deny she had benefited from it, and once he found that neither one was available to him, he would quickly find someone else.
She was still standing there hesitantly when the porch door opened and Bella came in, brushing drops of moisture from the brim of her straw hat. Dressed in her Sunday best, Bella was a formidable sight, and her expression did not soften when she saw Olivia.
‘So you’re up at last,’ she remarked tartly, dropping the flower-trimmed hat on to a chair and unbuttoning her black gabardine coat. ‘Some people are very thoughtless!’
Olivia sighed, overwhelmingly aware that Richard would hear them speaking and might join them. ‘I overslept,’ she said apologetically. ‘I forgot it was Sunday.’
‘It seems to me that school in Paris has done nothing but harm!’ observed Bella, dropping her gloves and handbag on top of her coat and making her way across the hall to the door leading to the kitchen. ‘Thoughtlessness and selfishness, and talk of being independent! You’ve changed, Olivia, that you have. And I don’t like it.’
‘Oh, Bella …’ Olivia trailed her into the kitchen, casting an appealing smile in Eliza’s direction, hoping for an ally in her. But Bella quickly sent the other girl into the garden to gather some mint for the potatoes, and Olivia was left to face her own battles.
‘I gather you had an enjoyable time yesterday evening,’ Bella remarked, filling the kettle from the tap and plugging it in. ‘It wasn’t the ordeal you had expected.’
‘No.’ Olivia perched uneasily on the edge of the table. ‘Bella, I’m sorry about yesterday afternoon, I really am. But that doesn’t alter the fact that I am an adult, I do have a mind of my own.’
‘No one is denying that, are they?’ Bella retorted, setting cups on a tray. ‘Have you and Richard had coffee?’
‘What? Oh, yes. Yes.’ Olivia bent her head to hide the guilty blush that stained her cheeks again. ‘Er—Shelley came. Eliza made coffee for us.’
‘So Richard hasn’t——’
‘Oh, yes, he has. He—he joined us, actually.’ Olivia looked up, remembering. ‘Bella, do you know anything about us going to visit some friends of Richard’s in the West Indies?’
Bella turned away to get a jug of cream from the refrigerator. ‘He did say something, yes,’ she murmured, in an offhand tone. ‘Hmm, this hot weather cream goes sour, even in the fridge.’
It was tantamount to an evasion of the question, and Olivia realised she would get no information from Bella. Not if it concerned Richard.
‘What did Shelley want?’ Bella was not about to give her another opportunity to swing the conversation, and Olivia shrugged, realising that at any other time she would have confided her suspicions about Shelley to the old nursemaid. She knew Bella would not approve of the other girl’s ambitions. She did not approve of her pursuance of Richard, and if she suspected her motives for befriending Olivia, Shelley would find it hard to gain admittance to Copley at all.
But now, Olivia gave the facile explanation that she had heard from her brother that the other girl was home, and had called to welcome her back.
‘Huh!’ Bella was not in a mood to be tactful. ‘She doesn’t waste much time, does she? I suppose she’d conveniently forgotten that Richard was home, too?’ She shook her head, going to attend to the kettle which had begun to whistle. ‘She should be in your shoes. She’d like that. You wouldn’t find her turning to bite the hand that feeds her!’
Olivia pursed her lips. ‘Are you suggesting I should think of Richard in the way she does?’ she demanded hotly, and was horrified when Bella did not refute it.
‘Why not?’ she mused, adding instant coffee to a cup. ‘It would solve all your problems, wouldn’t it?’ She look
ed up and her brown eyes were sharp and piercing. ‘He’s only your stepbrother, you know. He’s no blood relation. I think it would be quite a satisfactory solution.’
Olivia couldn’t believe her ears. She stared at Bella as if she had never seen her before, and inside her the creamy coffee she had drunk curdled and went sour.
‘You can’t be serious!’ she gasped at last. ‘I—why, Richard’s like—like a father to me!’
‘Perhaps that’s what you need,’ remarked Bella, unperturbed, stirring her coffee as if she hadn’t just made the most outrageous statement of her whole life. ‘Someone to care for you, as I know Richard cares for you. Someone to take you in hand and show you where your loyalties lie. Richard would be kind, I know he would. He wouldn’t expect too much at first, and you’d always be treated with gentleness—and respect.’
Olivia’s lips could scarcely form the words she had to say. ‘You—you’re talking as if—as if you know how Richard feels. As if—as if this had already been spoken between you!’
Bella shrugged. ‘Richard needs a hostess, I know that. He needs a wife, too, a stabilising influence, someone who wouldn’t demand too much of him, as you would learn not to do. You know each other so well. It’s an ideal solution!’
‘It’s not ideal! It—it’s horrible!’ Olivia felt really sick now. ‘I don’t believe this is what Richard wants, what he feels. You don’t marry someone just to get a hostess, someone to run your house. Not someone in Richard’s position anyway. He can hire any number of housekeepers, keep any amount of staff for that purpose.’
‘Perhaps he doesn’t want to.’
‘I can’t accept that.’ Olivia gulped. ‘And—and in any case it’s not what I want. I—I want to get married one day, of course I do. But to someone I love—not necessarily respect, although I might do that, too. I don’t want kindness and gentleness and understanding. I want fire—and passion—and all the things that should be there between a man and a woman!’
‘And how do you know you won’t get these things with Richard?’ demanded Bella, aroused at last. ‘He’s a man, isn’t he? An attractive man? Plenty of women think so.’
