by Anne Hampson
‘When would you like it to be?’ Muriel asked shyly.
‘Tomorrow,’ was the prompt rejoinder, and they both laughed.
‘Do you like June?’ after a thoughtful silence.
‘I do, but not for weddings—not ours, that is,’ he replied in tones of mild inflexibility. ‘How about next month?’
‘I can’t argue with my boss.’ A mischievous smile curved her lips. ‘I’ll marry you next month ... sir.’
‘Say that again and I’ll inflict a severe punishment.’
‘What?’
‘Twenty kisses.’
‘Sir!’
Andrew laughed and switched on the dash light to look at the clock.
‘Punishment postponed,’ he said. ‘It’s late and we haven’t yet discussed your new job.’
‘New job?’
‘You didn’t think I would let you stay there, did you? I’m transferring you to the costing department.’
‘But I don’t know a thing about costing!’
‘Never mind. How much are you getting at present?’ And when she told him, ‘We’ll double it.’
‘Oh, Andrew, no! I’ll be a dead loss to the firm as it is.’
‘We won’t go bankrupt,’ he said quizzically.
‘Please be serious. I’ll take the job if you insist, but at my present salary.’
‘You’ll take the job, my sweet, at the salary I stipulate.’ Andrew spoke quietly enough, but one glance at his firm-set lips told Muriel that further argument was useless.
‘Very well, Andrew,’ she agreed reluctantly. ‘But I know I won’t earn my money.’
Ignoring this, Andrew told her to be at his office at eight-thirty the following morning when he would take her along to see Mr. Pickard, who was in charge of the costing department. Then, frowning, he suddenly changed the subject.
‘What did you mean by telling me you loved that fellow Thomson?’
Muriel started, the colour surging into her face.
‘It wasn’t true—’
‘Obviously it wasn’t true; but you gave me a nasty few minutes. Is he in love with you?’
‘Yes.’ Muriel bit her lip. Peter was going to be hurt when he learnt she was going to be married. ‘But he knows I love someone else.’
‘You told him?’
‘I didn’t tell him it was you ... but that was why he was holding me; I was upset because Miss Cook told me you wouldn’t speak to me.’
‘I thought it was that. I’m sorry, darling; my conduct was inexcusable.’ He took her to him and she nestled placidly in his arms. She could feel his heart beating against her breast, the kiss-like touch of his lips on her hair, and a quiver of ecstasy shot through her. ‘Beloved, you’re trembling. What is it?’
‘Happiness,’ she replied briefly.
There was a moment’s silence before Andrew gently took her face in his hands. His eyes were very tender, but very serious, too.
‘You’re placing your life’s happiness in my keeping. Do you realize that, Muriel?’
‘But of course.’ Her gaze was childishly trusting. ‘You are my life’s happiness.’
‘It’s a sobering thought,’ he murmured, as though speaking to himself. ‘You will never regret it, my dear. From this moment on you are my sacred responsibility.’
‘Oh, I never imagined I’d be going home tonight feeling so deliriously happy. I’m sure I’ll wake up tomorrow and find it’s all a dream!’
‘A dream that will last for the rest of your life, then,’ he said, watching the glow of happy confidence in her lovely eyes. ‘I’m very much afraid, my sweet...’ He glanced significantly at the clock.
‘Yes.’ Reluctantly, Muriel freed herself from his embrace. ‘We really must go.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Andrew was just turning from the telephone as Muriel entered his office the following morning. He was obviously amused about something that had been said, but the smile was wiped from his face as he noticed the expression on hers.
‘Now what?’ he said abruptly. ‘Has your mother refused her consent to our marriage?’
Muriel turned from him with starting tears and trembling lips.
‘I didn’t tell her—Oh, Andrew, we can’t be married yet, not for a very long time!’
‘Indeed? Why?’
‘Dil and Fred have got a house. A man Fred works with is going abroad and he’s letting them have his.’ There was no need for further explanation; Muriel had told Andrew the previous night about Dil and Fred sharing the household expenses.
‘How long do you expect me to wait?’ Andrew inquired in a strangely untroubled tone which brought Muriel’s head round with a jerk.
‘I don’t know ... it will be years before Derek is earning any money.’ She had expected him to raise objections, perhaps even be angry; instead, he was smiling at her in the most tender, reassuring way. ‘So you don’t mind waiting, then?’
‘I have no intention of waiting,’ he replied with promptitude. ‘I’m afraid you don’t know me very well yet, my love.’ He paused in thought, a slight frown on his brow. ‘Perhaps your mother would be embarrassed if I made her an allowance—No, you must do it—out of your own.’
‘But I can’t let you keep my mother!’
‘I’m not waiting years for you, Muriel,’ Andrew said with quiet determination. ‘Not even months. Don’t you want to marry me?’
‘You know very well I do. But everything is so difficult.’
‘On the contrary, it’s all very simple. Now take that look of abject misery off your face and give me a smile.’ Seeing that she was about to make further protests, Andrew took her in his arms, and for the next few moments he was doing just what was ‘strictly forbidden’ in the factory. Then he held her away from him. ‘That was an order—Where’s the smile I asked for?’
Muriel raised clear, grave eyes, trying her best to smile.
‘You’re so good,’ she said tremulously. ‘I don’t know what to say, how to thank you.’
‘When you and I give to each other, Muriel, there’s no need for thanks.’
‘But you are doing all the giving; I have nothing to give in return.’
‘Your love ... and that’s everything.’ His gaze was infinitely tender; Muriel put her arms round his neck and kissed him softly on the lips.
‘It’s yours for ever and ever,’ she whispered huskily. ‘Oh, I’m so happy, and to think—it is all due to Aunt Edith.’
‘Yes; and that reminds me, she’s just been on the phone.’
‘At this time? What for?’
‘Wanted to know if I’d proposed to you yet.’
‘At this time?’ she said again, blinking at him. ‘She has to walk nearly a mile to a phone box!’
‘Couldn’t contain herself, apparently,’ he laughed, and then, ‘I have a shrewd suspicion that she wants to be the first to tell Christine.’
How would she take it? Muriel wondered, and couldn’t help expressing her thoughts to Andrew. He shrugged indifferently.
‘I don’t think it matters how she takes it,’ he said, releasing Muriel as his secretary knocked quietly and entered the office.
‘Mr. Pickard has just rung through,’ said Miss Cook stiffly after measuring them both with disapproving eyes. ‘He said you phoned him first thing and told him you would be bringing Miss Paterson over about twenty to nine.’ She glanced at the clock; it was ten minutes past nine. ‘He has to go out and wants to know if you’re taking her over at once. If not, he’ll be back about eleven o’clock.’
‘Tell him I’ll be over immediately.’
‘Miss Cook doesn’t like me,’ Muriel said as she left the room.
‘There are very few people she does like,’ Andrew replied with a faint smile. ‘She’s odd, but worth her weight in gold as a secretary. Come on, darling, you’re not scared, are you?’
‘Terribly,’ she said in a faltering voice. ‘I’m sure I won’t be able to do it, Andrew.’
But Mr. Pickard, grey-haire
d, and fatherly in spite of his rather fierce expression, instantly put her at her ease, and Muriel was soon sitting beside a smiling girl who had been instructed to show her what to do. Every head was raised, and odd glances were directed first at Muriel and then at Andrew. Never before had the managing director himself escorted a new girl to the department!
‘All right now?’ Andrew smiled down at her, something in the still cool depths of his eyes instilling her with a strange new confidence in herself.
‘Yes, thank you, An—Mr. Burke.’
He grinned at her, and after speaking a little while with Mr. Pickard, left the office.
The rest of the morning seemed to fly; at ten past twelve Mr. Pickard called Muriel over to him and handed her a folder.
‘Mr. Burke has asked me to send you over to his office with these figures. You know your way?’ His face was impassive; whatever his thoughts concerning the telephone message he had just received, he hid them admirably.
‘I think so,’ Muriel replied doubtfully, remembering the maze of corridors through which Andrew had brought her. ‘I turn to the left when I leave here?’
‘Yes; then straight on, through the main offices, then turn left again.’
Finding herself almost running along the corridor, Muriel slackened her pace, flushing self-consciously as she realized she couldn’t get to Andrew quickly enough. Her heart was fluttering as, after knocking on the door and waiting for his ‘Come in’, she placed the folder before him.
‘The figures you sent for,’ she said, trying to sound businesslike and brisk.
‘What an efficient little puss you look!’ laughed Andrew, his gaze passing from the neat black skirt to the crisp white blouse and then to the hair fixed firmly back with a little bow in the nape of her neck. ‘Rather too efficient. Untie your hair.’
‘Untie it?’
‘For the time being; I’m taking you out to lunch.’
‘Oh, lovely!’ she exclaimed impulsively, and then blushed. ‘I mean, thank you very much.’
‘Where’s your coat?’
‘In a cloakroom round there.’ Muriel pointed vaguely towards the outer office. ‘Miss Cook told me to put it there.’
‘Run along and get it, then; I’ll wait here.’
He was ready when she returned, and as they walked the short distance to the restaurant where Andrew always took his lunch, he asked about her new job.
‘I like it very much. I felt as though I was a real nuisance to Miss Stevens, but she didn’t seem to mind how many questions I asked.’
‘I’m glad you’re liking it.’ He smiled quizzically down at her. ‘I hope you’re not feeling sorry to be leaving it so soon’
‘No ... but I’ll be lonely while you’re away at the office. What on earth shall I find to do?’
They had reached the restaurant; Andrew took her arm as they crossed to a small table in the corner.
‘I could give you an answer that would produce one of your very adorable blushes,’ he said quietly. ‘But I prefer to wait until we’re quite alone.’
‘You appear to have given me an answer,’ Muriel returned as she sat down, ‘and I’m not blushing!’
‘That’s what you think, my dear.’ He passed her the menu. ‘Grapefruit?’
‘Yes, please.’
During the meal Andrew fell strangely silent, and at times, a worried frown would appear on his brow. At last Muriel said anxiously,
‘Is anything wrong, Andrew?’
‘Wrong?’
‘You seem to be—sort of—troubled.’
He sighed, hesitating before he answered her.
‘I had a talk to my mother last night. I told her I was to be married, and she—she—’
‘She didn’t like the idea?’ The words came slowly, reluctantly, in a tone of deep uneasiness. Her happiness could not be complete if she were to be the cause of a rift between Andrew and his mother. From little things he had said on the cruise, Muriel knew he was devoted to her.
‘No, darling, it isn’t that,’ he reassured her hastily. ‘She’s a little anxious, naturally, until she meets you ... but she’s been telling me for years that I ought to be married. It’s the house—’ Again he hesitated. ‘Muriel, dear, I know it’s only reasonable that you should expect a house of your own—in fact, Mother thinks so too, but—’
Muriel finished quietly,
‘—you don’t want your mother to leave her home.’ ‘I think—I think I prefer to buy a house for us.’
‘But you’re not happy at the thought of leaving your home?’ Muriel said gently. ‘You once told me you were born there, and your father. And you told me about the lovely trees your grandfather had planted.’
‘It isn’t important; the important thing is that you are happy, and it scarcely ever works out if two women—’
‘Dearest Andrew, you banished all my worries so very simply this morning, remember?’ She smiled lovingly at him. ‘Now I can banish yours just as simply. I don’t mind in the least living with your mother.’
‘You ... darling!’ The troubled lines vanished from his brow, but he added anxiously, ‘Are you sure?—quite, quite sure?’
‘If she’s half as sweet as you, I shall love being with her.’
Reaching across the table, Andrew covered her hand with his own.
‘I shall always remember this,’ he said. ‘It’s a sacrifice and I—’
‘No, no, it’s not,’ she began, when he interrupted her.
‘It is a sacrifice for a woman not to have a house of her very own, not to surround herself with the things of her own choosing.’ He smiled faintly. ‘I may be a mere man, but I know a little about a woman’s feelings, her incurable sentimentality, if only from watching my mother dusting certain things with her best handkerchief.’
‘Does she do that?’ Muriel exclaimed impulsively. ‘Oh, I know I shall love her!’
‘Why, do you do that?’
‘Yes.’ She did not add that the little china dog Andrew had bought her on the ship was the only object that came in for this special favour.
‘Yes, I think you’ll grow to love Mother,’ Andrew said with confidence, after a thoughtful pause. ‘And there’s no doubt at all that she will love you. And, in time, I think you will love the house. When can I take you home?’ he added with almost boyish eagerness. ‘Tonight?’
‘Not tonight, Andrew,’ she said apologetically. ‘I promised Dil I would go and see her—I did tell you about her baby, didn’t I?’
‘You talked about nothing else for the latter part of the journey last night,’ was Andrew’s dry rejoinder, ‘And there were so many much more important things I wanted to talk about.’
‘Well, it’s nice being an aunt; it gives one a feeling of importance. And it’s such a dear little thing.’
‘You would have been an aunt very soon in any case. My elder sister, Sally, has a boy of four. But I hardly think, when you know him, that you’ll call him a “dear little thing”; he’s the most mischievous rascal that ever lived.’
‘Oh, but he’s just at that age,’ Muriel retorted, in defence of this unknown nephew-to-be. ‘You have to make excuses.’
‘Well, I’m afraid I don’t,’ said Andrew grimly. ‘I find his visits much more endurable when I’ve spanked some obedience into him.’
‘You should never, never hit children,’ Muriel returned knowledgeably. ‘All the books and all the newspaper articles tell you that.’
‘Have you been reading about child psychology?’ he asked with amused interest.
‘Dil had several books lent to her, and I read them. One in particular is extremely good; I’ve promised to buy it for her.’
‘Don’t,’ was Andrew’s prompt advice. ‘Buy her a tickler instead, she’ll find it far more effective. Eve wouldn’t be without hers for anything.’
‘A tickler?’ Muriel stared blankly. ‘What’s that?’
‘You don’t know?’ Andrew looked at her with mock astonishment. ‘A tickler is a cane wit
h a bunch of feathers on one end. They’re just a blind of course; for what self-respecting housewife tickles the dust instead of removing it?’
‘You mean—? Andrew, you’re teasing me!’
‘Not at all, darling. That’s what ticklers are made for. No parent should be without one. We shall have to get one some day; Mother’s is probably worn out—there were three of us, you see.’
‘Indeed we shall not! You’re teasing me; I don’t believe your mother ever even touched you with a—a tickler!’
‘Then ask her for yourself. Which brings me back to the question; when are you coming home with me?’ Although rather scared of meeting Mrs. Burke, Muriel suggested that she should go home with him the following evening straight from work.
‘You see, if I went home first it would make it very late.’
‘Yes, of course, there’s no sense in your going home first, but—’ He paused. ‘I have to go to Sheffield in the morning, and it will be at least three o’clock before I get back, so I think I’ll make a day of it—I’ll take a couple of hours off. You can do the same; I’ll call back at the office for you.’
‘I take a couple of hours off, so soon? What will Mr. Pickard say?’
‘I don’t think he’ll raise any objections,’ Andrew replied with some amusement, adding, ‘Not if I ask him nicely.’
‘Won’t he... think something?’
‘He’ll know something shortly when our engagement is announced. Mother would want that,’ he added. ‘You don’t mind?’
‘N-no...’ Recalling her own anguish at the idea of reading the announcement of Andrew’s engagement to Christine, Muriel felt, even though she now disliked her cousin excessively, that she wanted to spare her as much as possible. ‘I don’t suppose it makes any difference,’ she said, almost to herself.
Although guessing at her thoughts, Andrew made no comment.
‘I’ve been thinking, darling, as tomorrow is Friday, there seems no reason why you shouldn’t stay with us for the week-end ... or perhaps your mother would object? After all, she doesn’t know me.’
Muriel felt sure her mother would not object, but she would make no promise until she had asked her permission.
‘I’ll see what she says and let you know tomorrow.’ She paused, thinking of the small house with its drab furniture and faded curtains; trying to visualize Andrew’s home and compare the two. ‘Andrew...’
