White Rose of Winter

by Anne Mather

  Pamela and he were sharing a couch, while Louise and Lucy seemed to find plenty to talk about. Naturally as they both shared the distinction of being the mothers of the prospective bride and groom there was always the wedding to discuss, so that Julie found herself left with Francis.

  Not that she minded. Of them all, Francis was the easiest to talk to, and they sat together discussing books they had read, and as Julie had been away from London for so long Francis was quite willing to bring her cultural knowledge up to date. From time to time, Julie was conscious of Robert’s brooding gaze upon her, but she refused to meet his eyes and read the censure she knew she would find there.

  By the time the Hillingdons left Julie felt as though she had known Francis for years and she was grateful to him for making an evening which could have been difficult pass so quickly and enjoyably.

  Robert accompanied them down to their car, and after the door was closed Lucy sighed with some satisfaction. ‘Aren’t they a charming family?’ she asked of Julie, obviously feeling pleased with herself.

  ‘I hardly spoke to anyone except Francis,’ replied Julie, flinging herself carelessly into a chair.

  ‘Francis!’ Lucy was obviously horrified. ‘I hope you didn’t call him that.’

  ‘Why not?’ Julie frowned.

  ‘Well, my dear, it’s just not done. Do you know who he is?’

  Julie gave a resigned gesture. ‘I don’t particularly care.’

  ‘Then perhaps you should. He’s the head of the Hillingdon Corporation. His father is Sir Arnold Hillingdon. Pamela’s father will inherit the title on his death.’

  ‘Big deal!’ Julie was unimpressed.

  Lucy’s cheeks paled a little with annoyance. ‘I might have known that that information would mean little to you. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I doubt whether you’ll be seeing much of them. And after you move to Thorpe Hulme …’

  ‘Oh, yes, I know. I’ll be out of the way,’ remarked Julie bitterly.

  Lucy emptied a brimming ashtray into a waste bin. ‘I didn’t know you smoked.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘But you did this evening.’

  ‘Social smoking, that’s all.’ Julie sighed. ‘Can I go to bed?’

  Lucy turned. ‘Why not?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure whether I had permission or not.’ Julie was sardonic.

  The outer door of the apartment suddenly opened and closed again to admit Robert. He came into the room unbuttoning his dinner jacket and wrinkling his nose at the pall of cigarette smoke. Suddenly, he looked exactly like Emma – she wrinkled her nose, too, and Julie caught her breath.

  She was conscious of him coming to stand before her chair. ‘Well?’ he challenged coldly. ‘I see you changed your mind.’

  Julie did not reply. She knew he was referring to her clothes. But Lucy was puzzled.

  ‘Changed her mind about what?’

  Robert made a gesture. ‘Nothing. Forget it!’ He glanced round the room. ‘What a mess!’

  There were ashtrays overflowing on to table tops, empty glasses strewn around, the sleeves of several records tipped aimlessly against chair legs, dishes of nuts and potato chips looking lost and unappetizing in the general disarray.

  Lucy shrugged. ‘Halbird will soon deal with it in the morning,’ she said.

  ‘No doubt.’ Robert went to the cabinet to pour himself some Scotch. ‘Do you want another drink?’ He was looking at his mother, but Julie chose to reply.

  ‘Yes, please,’ she said deliberately. ‘You know what I like.’

  Robert made no comment, but he poured a gin and tonic and brought it across to her.

  ‘You drink too much!’ said Lucy sharply, unable to hide her impatience.

  ‘But not in company,’ drawled Julie deliberately. ‘I didn’t let you down this evening, did I?’

  ‘That will do!’ Robert swallowed his Scotch at a gulp.

  ‘The sooner Julie and I put some distance between us the better,’ retorted his mother angrily.

  Robert regarded her moodily. ‘No one’s stopping you from returning to your own apartment,’ he stated.

  Julie blinked. It was not like Robert to answer his mother in such an offensive tone.

  ‘What?’ Lucy was saying now in a horrified way. ‘And leave you here alone – with her?’

  ‘Why not?’ Robert’s expression was ironic. ‘Surely you don’t imagine it would matter, one way or the other.’

  ‘Of – of course it would matter.’ Lucy stared at him, trying to read his mind. ‘Besides, I doubt whether Pamela would like me to leave.’

  Robert ran a hand round the back of his neck. ‘Why not?’

  Lucy sniffed resentfully. ‘Don’t be obtuse, Robert.’

  ‘I’m not being obtuse, Mother. If you mean what I think you mean you don’t honestly suppose that if I wanted to climb into bed with Julie your presence in the apartment would make the slightest bit of difference!’

  ‘Robert!’ Lucy was pale.

  He gave an impatient ejaculation. ‘It’s the truth, Mother.’ His lips twisted. ‘The fact of the matter is that your presence here as a chaperon is unnecessary. Julie was my brother’s wife – therefore I shall provide for her. But that’s all. Satisfied?’ He turned away. ‘Now I suggest we all go to bed. I’m tired.’

  Julie stood up, finishing her gin and tonic as she did so. Swaying slightly, she regarded them both bitterly. ‘You put that so charmingly, Robert,’ she remarked sarcastically. ‘Might I add that whether or not you choose to provide for me is entirely up to you!’ And dropping her glass noisily on to a side table she inclined her head regally and left the room.

  The next few days passed comparatively uneventfully. Needless to say, Lucy did not return to her own apartment, as Julie had known she wouldn’t, but as they both avoided one another there were few opportunities for open confrontation.

  They saw little of Robert, and if Emma thought this was a strange household she had been brought to, the excitement of trips about London with either Julie or her grandmother was more than enough to distact her.

  In other circumstances, Julie would have asked Robert whether she might visit the offices of the Pemberton Company. Her old boss, Vincent Harvey, still worked there so far as she knew, and it would have been nice to renew her acquaintance with him again.

  But Robert’s attitude encouraged little except antagonism, and a painful kind of acceptance inside her, and although he went frequently to the skyscraper building in Spanish Mews, she was not invited.

  One morning, when Julie had been back in England for almost a week, the telephone rang and as she was alone in the apartment at the time she answered it. To her surprise it was Francis Hillingdon.

  ‘Julie?’ he exclaimed.

  ‘That’s right.’ Julie moved the telephone receiver from one hand to the other. ‘Is that – is that Mr. Hillingdon?’

  ‘Francis,’ he amended dryly. ‘Mr. Hillingdon sounds as though you consider me an old man.’

  Julie smiled. ‘I didn’t mean that at all.’

  ‘No, I’m sure you didn’t.’ Francis sounded amused. ‘Are you well?’

  ‘Fine, thank you.’ Julie glanced behind her, realizing Halbird had come to the door of the lounge. ‘Er – who did you want to speak to? I’m afraid Robert’s at the office and my mother-in-law has taken Emma to the Zoo.’

  ‘I wanted to speak to you, Julie,’ Francis stated surprisingly, and Julie shrugged helplessly at Halbird.

  ‘You wanted to speak to me?’ she repeated, for the manservant’s benefit, and Halbird nodded politely and withdrew.

  ‘That’s right. I wanted to ask if you were free for lunch today.’

  ‘For lunch?’ Julie gathered her thoughts. She was repeating his words parrot-fashion and she was beginning to sound ridiculous. ‘But – why?’

  Francis laughed. ‘Do I have to give a reason? Can’t you just accept that I want to have lunch with you?’

  Julie was taken aback. ‘Well, I don’t know�
��’ she began.

  ‘Why? On your own admission Robert is at the office and Lucy and Emma are at the Zoo. What’s stopping you? Unless you have a prior engagement, of course, in which case I’ll offer suitable regrets and ring off.’

  Julie sighed. ‘It’s so unexpected, that’s all.’

  ‘Well?’ Francis waited.

  Julie bit her lower lip, a mass of conflicting emotions. The idea of having lunch with Francis was attractive. He was an amusing and interesting man, and she had no doubt that she would enjoy herself. But there were other things to be considered: what Robert might think, to begin with, and what malicious construction Lucy might place on the whole affair.

  But as though her mother-in-law’s petty restrictions were a kind of driving exhortation to commit the unforgivable crime of disobedience, Julie made a decision.

  ‘All right,’ she agreed. ‘I’d love to have lunch with you. Where shall we meet?’

  Francis sounded delighted. ‘I’ll pick you up at the apartment,’ he suggested. ‘About twelve?’

  Julie ran her tongue over her lips. ‘All right. But downstairs. I – I’ll come down to meet you.’

  ‘Fine.’

  Francis rang off and Julie replaced her receiver with some trepidation. Well, she was committed now, and there was nothing she could do about it even if she wanted to. She had no idea where to contact Francis and in exactly one hour he would be downstairs waiting for her.

  A thrill of excitement coursed along her veins. It was a long time since any man other than Michael had offered her a meal, and she went swiftly through to the kitchen to tell Halbird that she would not be in to lunch. He didn’t ask with whom she was lunching, but she felt he thought she ought to have told him. However, she had no desire to arouse Robert’s anger unnecessarily, and it was quite possible that she would be back before anyone knew she was gone. It wasn’t until she was having a shower that she had to accept that by anticipating Robert’s anger she was admitting that what she was about to do was wrong.

  But why should it be? she asked herself fiercely, as she pulled on sheer tights over her shapely legs. After all, having lunch with a man was innocent enough.

  She dressed in the green tweed trouser suit which Robert had considered would suit her. And it did. The dull colour was a perfect foil for the silvery brilliance of her hair which had been bleached whiter than normal by the hot Malayan sun. She left her hair loose, and she looked absurdly youthful as she went down in the lift at a minute past twelve.

  Francis was leaning against the bonnet of his car parked outside under the eye of Norris, the commissionaire. However, when Norris saw Julie coming out of the building he raised his hand in polite acknowledgement. Julie smiled in return and ran the remaining few yards to where Francis was waiting.

  It was a bitterly cold morning and there were traces of fog still hanging about. Julie half wished she had put on her fur coat over the trouser suit, but inside Francis’s sleek Mercedes it was beautifully warm.

  ‘That man thought I was a conspirator, I know he did,’ remarked Francis with mock relief, sliding into the car beside her.

  ‘He does take his duties rather seriously,’ agreed Julie, laughing, her cheeks pink with the cold.

  Francis regarded her intently for a long moment and then when she was beginning to feel self-conscious he turned and started the engine. ‘You look pretty good,’ he commented, concentrating on entering the stream of traffic in Eaton Gate. ‘I wondered if you’d have second thoughts.’

  Julie looked at him out of the comers of her eyes. ‘Should I have?’

  Francis swung the wheel and the car moved swiftly towards the King’s Road. ‘Not from my point of view,’ he replied.

  ‘That’s good.’ Julie looked out of the car’s windows. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘I thought we might go to the Purple Pheasant,’ he said, glancing in her direction for a moment to ascertain her interest. ‘It’s on the Slough Road. Heard of it?’

  Julie shook her head. ‘But that’s not surprising in the circumstances,’ she said, sighing. ‘After all, it’s six years since anyone invited me for lunch in England.’

  Francis smiled. ‘Then I shall consider myself honoured,’ he remarked lightly. ‘We’ll have champagne, to celebrate.’

  Julie laughed. It was very easy to be relaxed with Francis.

  The Purple Pheasant deserved its excellent reputation. The meal was delicious, and the champagne Francis insisted upon heady and exciting. Altogether it was a delightful outing and Julie was sorry when it was over and they drove back to town.

  The conversation throughout the meal had been light and inconsequential, but as they neared the apartment, Francis said:

  ‘Will you come out with me again, Julie?’

  Julie looked at his profile as he kept his eyes firmly on the traffic ahead of them. ‘Do you want me to?’

  ‘Of course.’ His tone was serious now.

  Julie bent her head. ‘I don’t know whether we should.’

  ‘Why?’ Francis took a moment to look at her. ‘You’ve enjoyed it, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes. But that’s not the point, is it?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Yes, you do, Francis. When – when you asked me out to lunch, I asked you why, and you said – did there have to be a reason? Well, now there does.’

  He frowned. ‘Surely my reasons are obvious. I enjoy your company.’

  ‘And your wife?’

  ‘Louise? What about her?’

  ‘Does she know you’ve taken me out today?’

  ‘Why should she? It’s nothing to do with her.’

  ‘But it is.’ Julie sighed. ‘Can’t you see what I’m getting at? If she finds out that we’ve been out and you’ve not told her – what is she going to think?’

  Francis’s expression was grim. ‘Frankly, I couldn’t care less.’

  Julie stared at him. ‘Why?’

  The car was turning into the forecourt of the apartment building now and Francis brought it to a halt before replying. Then he turned sideways in his seat, his arm along the back of hers. ‘Need I elucidate?’ he asked softly. ‘Our relationship has been on the rocks for years. Oh, we’re still married, we still go through the motions of being a happily married couple for the sake of Pamela, and my parents. But that’s all.’

  Julie took a deep breath. ‘I see.’ She wished she had known this before accepting Francis’s invitation. This changed things, changed them a lot.

  Francis bent his head to regard the buttons of his jacket. ‘That puts me beyond the pale, of course.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Francis looked up, his expression wry. ‘Am I right in thinking that you’re regretting going out with me now? You think – hell, I’ve got to walk warily here. This man’s out for something more than just a friendly relationship!’

  Julie coloured, and Francis swung round in his seat abruptly. ‘You see,’ he said. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

  ‘And are you?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Am I what?’

  ‘Out for more than a friendly relationship?’

  Francis sighed. ‘I’d be a fool and a liar to say no,’ he replied briefly. ‘But if you think that I’d ever force you to do anything you didn’t want to do, you’re mistaken. I like you, you attract me, I can’t deny that either. But if all you want is my friendship, then I’m quite prepared to offer it.’

  ‘Oh, Francis!’ Julie stared at him helplessly.

  ‘We’ve got very intense all of a sudden, haven’t we?’ he remarked lightly. ‘This will never do.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘And I must go. I have an appointment – let me see – half an hour ago!’

  Julie gasped. ‘Half an hour ago! But you’re late!’

  ‘Hmm.’ Francis didn’t sound at all disturbed by the news.

  ‘I’d better go.’ Julie thrust open the car door and slid out, and Francis got out too and came round to her side of the vehicle.

 
; ‘Well?’ he said. ‘Thank you for joining me.’

  ‘Thank you!’ Julie shook her head. ‘It was marvellous.’

  Francis nodded. ‘Good.’ He turned back to the car, but she stayed him with her hand.

  ‘Aren’t – aren’t you going to invite me out again?’

  Francis’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’d come?’

  ‘As a friend, yes.’

  Francis took her hand in both of his. ‘All right. I’ll ring you in a few days, if I may.’

  Julie nodded. ‘Do that. Goodbye, Francis.’

  ‘Goodbye, Julie.’ He nodded, allowed her hand to fall to her side and walked swiftly round to climb into his car.

  Going up in the lift Julie pondered her motives for doing what she had just done. But there had been an enormous weight of unhappiness in Francis’s eyes when he had told her so indifferently of his affairs. And he had not tried to pretend that he wanted a platonic relationship. That had really decided her, although she knew that was all they could ever have. That, and the fact that she knew how easy it was to be misunderstood in the most destructive circumstances.

  CHAPTER SIX

  WHEN Julie let herself into the apartment a few minutes later she could hear the sound of a feminine voice and her heart sank. Lucy was obviously back and no doubt would expect some explanation as to why Julie should have gone out without leaving any information where she might be.

  Straightening the jacket of her suit, she dropped her handbag on to the table in the lobby and pushed open the lounge door. But it was not her mother-in-law who was seated on the couch and who turned to regard her curiously as she entered the room but a strange young woman. Robert was there, too, standing sombrely beside the long windows, his hands behind his back.

  Julie closed the door and leaned back against it, her dark brows drawing together in puzzled expectation. Then her eyes flickered questioningly to her brother-in-law and he walked slowly across to stand behind the couch.

  ‘Good afternoon, Julie,’ he greeted her coldly. ‘I’m so glad you’ve decided to return at last. Miss Lawson and I have been waiting for you for almost an hour.’