Across the Counter

by Mary Burchell

  So Katherine stepped out onto an ornamental terrace where it was still warm from the afternoon sunshine which had been exceptionally strong for the time of year. She walked slowly along and then down a flight of steps to the garden, where she presently found, not Paul, but Geraldine, swinging lazily in a hammock seat and looking somewhat dissatisfied with life.

  “Hello!” Geraldine greeted her in a friendly way. “Come and show me your ring. Paul says it’s a nice one.”

  Katherine obligingly sat down beside her in the hammock seat and spread out her hand for Geraldine’s inspection.

  Geraldine whistled softly.

  “I must say my brother does things well,” she said with a laugh. “However much did it cost?”

  “I’ve no idea.” Katherine was faintly shocked, both at the candor of the question and by the fact that someone so much better versed in these things seemed so much impressed.

  “Well, I have,” declared Geraldine. “And either he’s very fond of you or he wanted to make a big impression.”

  Katherine was silent, not quite knowing how to continue this conversation. She was glad that, for some reason, Geraldine was not wearing her own engagement ring. It would have been hard to be called on to admire that.

  Then, just as she was about to make some innocuous remark, Geraldine exclaimed, “Katherine, I’m going to ask you something rather personal. May I?”

  “If you very much want to,” Katherine said, and she steeled herself for some searching question about her engagement.

  It came with all the more shock that what Geraldine said was, “Just how well do you know Malcolm?”

  “M-Malcolm?” For a moment she felt as though her brain stopped working. “Malcolm Fordham, do you mean?”

  “Yes, of course. What other Malcolm, for heaven’s sake? You knew him really quite well in London, didn’t you?”

  “I went out with him several times. Quite ... casually, you know.” She hated herself for the lie, but what else could she say?,

  “Would you say you knew him well as a person—that you understood him and what made him tick? I suppose what I really mean is—did you know him really intimately?”

  Katherine tried not to look as aghast as she felt.

  “Geraldine, what are you getting at? Most attractive men have several women friends before they finally get engaged. Malcolm was no exception. I was just ... one of them. But there was nothing that you need worry about or feel jealous about, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Oh, no, that’s not what I mean at all,” Geraldine declared with unexpected emphasis. “Rather the reverse, as a matter of fact.”

  Katherine turned slowly and looked at her.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Well—” Geraldine hesitated and then suddenly seemed to make up her mind “—since you’re going to be my sister-in-law, I suppose I can be franker with you than with most. The fact is that I’ve made a pretty ghastly mistake. I’m nearly sure I don’t want Malcolm, after all. And I thought that if you knew him really well, you might have some suggestions for the beastly problem of letting him know.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “You don’t ... want Malcolm ... after all?” Katherine stared at Geraldine, absolutely aghast. “But you can’t do that to him! He loves you—”

  She stopped abruptly, for suddenly everything shifted into fresh focus, and she saw all at once what this new development could mean to herself.

  “I think—” she spoke a little unsteadily “—you’d better explain.”

  “To him, you mean?”

  “No. To me. What happened? Have you quarreled or something?”

  “Oh, no. Nothing like that.” Geraldine shook her head. “In a way, I suppose it might be better if we had. There’s something stimulating about having a terrific row and them making it up again, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know,” said Katherine, who had never sought that form of stimulation. “But if there hasn’t been a quarrel, what has happened?”

  “Nothing.” Geraldine spread out her hands expressively. “Perhaps that’s the trouble,” she added reflectively.

  “I don’t understand. Are you complaining because there has not been a quarrel?”

  “No, Katherine.” Geraldine laughed slightly. “It’s so difficult to explain to you, I realize. You’re kind and sweet and civilized, just as Paul says. You probably like your men to be the same—though if that’s the case, I can’t imagine why you’ve taken Paul,” she added. “Well, I’m not a bit like that. I like excitement and uncertainty and—yes, I suppose a certain amount of conflict. I like excitement, in people as well as events. Malcolm’s just not exciting,” she finished devastatingly.

  Katherine was silent. Not because she had nothing to say, but because she was afraid she would say too much if she allowed herself to speak. In that moment she could have taken hold of the other girl and shaken her until her teeth rattled.

  For this—for this—she had been sacrificed! To provide a fresh sensation for the charming but capricious sister of Paul Kendale. Her own love story had been shattered, her own hopes and plans brought to naught, her own powers of philosophical acceptance brought to breaking point—and for what?

  So that Geraldine Kendale could run an experimental engagement with Malcolm—and then find that she did not want him, after all.

  “Oh, Katherine, you look terribly shocked.” Geraldine made a half-contrite little grimace.

  “I am shocked,” Katherine said flatly. “Malcolm loves you.” Queer that she should be called on to put his case for him! “He believes you love him. He’s planning happily and trustingly for your future together. And you say, quite casually, that after all you don’t think you want him—partly because there are no stimulating and exciting quarrels. If that’s not shocking, I don’t know what is.”

  “Hmm—” Geraldine swung the hammock seat thoughtfully “—you certainly argue his case pretty passionately. You must have liked him quite a lot at one time.”

  “He was a good friend,” said Katherine stiffly. “And I don’t like to see a good friend treated like that.”

  “Well, I haven’t done anything about it yet,” Geraldine pointed out. “But if I find I honestly don’t want him—and anyone can make a mistake, Katherine—don’t you agree that it’s better to say so frankly? You surely don’t advocate that I should go on with things if I don’t think I could be happy with him?”

  “I ... I don’t advocate anything,” stammered Katherine, suddenly aware that she was trembling. “I don’t know what on earth to say—or why you should have asked me, of all people, to advise you.”

  “I thought you knew him well,” Geraldine reminded her patiently. “I thought you might know the best way of telling him. I even thought that, in your kind and balanced and civilized way, you might explain things to him for me.”

  “I? I might tell Malcolm that you don’t love him, after all?” Katherine heard her own voice run up almost hysterically, and she gripped her hands together to keep herself calm. “I couldn’t possibly do such a thing, Geraldine. It would be insufferable interference on my part.”

  “Even if I had asked you to do so?”

  “Yes, of course! In any circumstances at all. I’m absolutely nothing to either of you and—”

  “You’re more or less my sister-in-law,” Geraldine reminded her reproachfully.

  “Oh, good heavens, yes! So I am,” exclaimed Katherine distractedly, and she buried her face in her hands.

  “Look here, there’s no need to be so upset about it,” said Geraldine quite kindly. “You make me think there must be something in what Aileen says.”

  Katherine sat very still, and a little shiver slid down her back. But there was no good in clinging to cowardly silence.

  “What does Aileen say?” she inquired more calmly, and she raised her head and looked at Geraldine again.

  “She says you were sweet on Malcolm yourself, before either of you came here.”


  “She knows nothing whatever about me—or Malcolm,” Katherine stated coldly.

  “No. But she’s awfully smart at guessing,” countered Geraldine carelessly. “Were you sweet on him, Katharine?”

  “I’m not prepared to discuss my feelings for anyone before I ... I got engaged to Paul,” Katherine said quickly.

  “Well, I don’t blame you.” Geraldine laughed good-naturedly. “What’s past is past. But if you had been sweet on Malcolm at some time or other, this would have been a grand opportunity for consoling him—if you hadn’t gone and got yourself engaged to Paul, of course,” she added as an afterthought. “And speaking of Paul—here he is coming along the path, and I suppose you’d rather have his company than mine.”

  She got up with another of those careless, good-natured little laughs, which were so charming if nothing vital was involved.

  “Don’t worry too much about what I’ve said.” She stood looking down at Katherine in a perfectly friendly way. “I’ll think very seriously about all the solemn issues you brought forward. And perhaps—who knows—I may decide that Malcolm is the man for me, after all.”

  And with a little nod she left Katherine, giving her brother a half-affectionate little pat on the arm as she passed.

  Katherine sat very still, her eyes cast down. And a moment later Paul came and sat down beside her.

  There was a short silence. Then he said almost casually, “What’s the matter?”

  She shook her head slightly, quite unable to answer him.

  “Has my father said something to upset you?” He leaned forward and took one of her hands lightly in his.

  “Your father?” She looked up then. “Oh, no. He ... we got on rather well. I think he quite ... likes me.”

  “I shouldn’t wonder,” said Paul, and laughed softly. “Then—” he frowned, considering “—it must have been Geraldine. But it isn’t like her to be deliberately unkind to anyone. Particularly a guest.”

  “She wasn’t deliberately unkind.” Katherine drew away her hand and spoke a little bitterly. “She merely informed that she’s not at all sure, after all, that she wants to marry Malcolm.”

  He whistled. Then he said, “But I should have thought, in the circumstances, you would have been elated rather than depressed by that news.”

  “I was appalled, if you want to know,” stated Katherine curtly.

  He cocked a shrewd, slightly amused glance at her. “Your interest in Malcolm is also waning?” he suggested.

  “No, of course not. At least—” she was faintly confused “—that wasn’t what appalled me. I simply can’t follow this idea of switching engagements on and off like ... like an electric light. All I can think of is the fact that Geraldine ruined my romance, for the sake of a new sensation.”

  “In fairness, I must say that she was not aware of that, Katherine.”

  “I know, I know. But does that make it any easier for me? I was virtually engaged to Malcolm. I ... I loved him. It was the most frightful blow when I found he wanted to marry another girl. And now, in a matter of days, she isn’t even sure that she wants him.”

  “And meanwhile you’ve become engaged to someone else,” Paul murmured half to himself.

  “Pretended to become engaged to someone else,” she countered quickly.

  “It’s the same thing for the purposes of argument.”

  “It is not the same thing—for any purposes at all,” Katherine retorted almost violently.

  “As far as Malcolm is concerned it is.” He seemed unperturbed by her anger. “All he knows is that you’re engaged to me. He doesn’t know anything of the complications. Or does he?”

  “No, of course not! At least, I haven’t told him, if that’s what you mean. But—” she turned and faced him “—you don’t really expect me to continue this ... this playacting if Malcolm isn’t engaged to Geraldine after all, do you?”

  He rubbed his chin meditatively.

  “You mean that, if Geraldine does create something of a scandal by breaking her engagement, you will match it by breaking yours? It looks like a bad week for the Kendales.”

  “But ... but, Paul,” she stammered, “if Malcolm is free—”

  “He won’t necessarily want you again, just because Geraldine has chucked him,” was the brutal retort. “You say yourself that you don’t believe in this switching on and off of engagements.”

  “Oh—” she pushed back her hair distractedly “—why did I ever get myself into this ridiculous position?”

  “Because I asked you,” he said literally and unexpectedly. “I’m sorry, Kate—Katherine, I mean. I’ll do anything I can to get you out of it.” And putting his arm around her he drew her lightly against him. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I ... don’t know.” She was taken aback by his quick change of mood. “I don’t even know what to do myself at this point. I only know that if Malcolm is disillusioned and unhappy and ... free, I wish to heaven I were in a position to ... to console him. Instead of which, I’m tied to you.” And she gave him a small, almost childish push.

  He laughed, but he did not release her. Instead he took her left hand in his free one.

  “Do you want me to take this off?” He fingered her engagement ring lightly.

  “T-take it off?”

  “Yes. Do you want to announce that we’ve broken our engagement first?”

  “But—” she looked up at him “—I thought it was vital to you that we continue the engagement until I returned to London.”

  “No, Katherine. It was vital to me to have you accept the engagement at the time when I forced it on you. It is, if you like, much less embarrassing all around if we continue the thing until you go. But if you’re anxious to advertise to the world in general, and Malcolm in particular, that you’re in the open market again—”

  “Do you have to put it in that odious way?”

  “I expect so. I’m a rather odious person,” he reminded her carelessly. “At least I’m a realistic one.”

  “People always say that when they want to be particularly unpleasant.”

  He laughed.

  “Darling—”

  “I’m not your darling,” she pointed out shortly.

  “How do you know you’re not?” he retorted, and she saw his eyes sparkle in that dangerous way.

  “We’re getting away from the point,” Katherine said coldly and firmly.

  “Which is—how are we to get you disengaged from me in time to let Malcolm know that you would like to console him when he becomes disengaged from Geraldine?”

  “I suppose you call that being realistic?”

  “Offensively so,” he admitted.

  There was a short silence during which she moved out of the circle of his arm. He let her go, though he gave her that faintly amused and questioning glance.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said at last with a sigh. “Of course you’re right when you say it’s much less embarrassing all around if we leave the breaking of the engagement until I return to London.”

  He said nothing, perhaps afraid that he might tip the delicate balance of her decision one way or the other.

  “On the other hand, if Geraldine breaks her engagement...” Katherine paused and reflected again. “Only, of course, she hasn’t actually done so yet.”

  “No? She merely consulted you about it, you mean?”

  “She more or less suggested that I should do it for her,” said Katherine dryly. And then in spite of everything she suddenly found she could laugh at the ironical absurdity of that. “You really are the most extraordinary family.”

  “And that’s why you will thankfully break all connection with us once you go from here?”

  “Break all—Well, yes ... I suppose so.” She looked unexpectedly serious again. “Though, as my family lives in the district—”

  “We might run into each other occasionally,” he suggested.

  “We might,” she agreed somewhat doubtfully. And then Geraldine, the ca
use of all the trouble and discussion, came to say that if they wanted a drink before dinner they had better come up to the house.

  On the way, while Geraldine paused to speak to a gardener, Paul drew. Katherine aside and murmured, “What was the final decision? Masterly inactivity for the time being?”

  “I ... I think so. Don’t you?” She felt this was weak of her. Yet there was no really positive action that would benefit any of them at this point.

  “Oh, it suits me,” he said carelessly as Geraldine rejoined them. And then they went into the house and found Mr. Kendale affably ready to dispense excellent sherry to his family and guest.

  Just before dinner was served Malcolm came in, and it was all Katherine could do not to glance nervously from him to Geraldine in order to see if there were any signs of real trouble between them.

  But whatever Geraldine’s inner thoughts or decisions might be, she maintained an admirable facade, and the evening went off without incident. Toward the end of it Katherine found herself half hoping, half dreading that Malcolm would offer her a lift home. But then it turned out that he was staying for the weekend, and it was Paul who drove her home.

  On the way, he asked, “What have we finally decided about Sunday? Are we going to visit your family?”

  “No,” said Katherine, who had at least made up her mind about that. “At any rate—you’re not. Please, Paul, let me have my own way in this. I want to save the family as much distress as possible over this business, and you must see that the less they see of you during our bogus engagement, the better.”

  “In case they get too fond of me, you mean?” He flashed her that amused glance. “You seem flatteringly sure there is some danger of that.”