by Anne Mather
Diana compressed her lips at this outburst. Then she went on scornfully: ‘I love my mother. I don’t want her to be hurt Uncle Adrian wants to marry her. Do you think he’ll want her…after you?’
‘Shut your mouth!’ Nicholas commanded furiously. ‘How dare you say you love your mother? You love only one person – Diana Scott. You’re terrified in case your mother does marry me. You’re not concerned whether she gets hurt or not. All you’re really worried about is whether you’re going to have your nose put out of joint After all, we might have other children, mightn’t we?’
Diana’s face whitened as though he had struck her and she rose unsteadily to her feet.
‘I think the whole affair is disgusting,’ she exclaimed wildly. ‘How can you say things like that to me?’
‘Because they’re true. Don’t hedge with me, Diana, it won’t work. I can see through you like I can see through glass. You’re patently transparent.’ He was in no mood to spare her feelings and he rested his hands on the desk, facing her. ‘What’s – disgusting about marriage, anyway?’
‘N…nothing. But you aren’t like Daddy or Uncle Adrian. You’re…oh…you’re horrible!’
Nicholas sighed wearily, controlling his temper with an effort.
‘Tell me why?’ he said quietly. ‘And if you can’t, I’ll tell you.’
Diana twisted her fingers together. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that until these last four weeks you never even thought of your mother as still being an attractive young woman. Even now, you don’t accept it. You think I’m horrible because I don’t conform to your petty ideas of what a man who marries your mother should be. As I said before, Diana, you’re concerned for yourself. If you really thought a lot of your mother you might stop to consider that she might have found someone who could make her happy…really happy.’
‘She’ll never be happy with you!’ cried Diana, her breast heaving.
Nicholas was unable to take any more of this. ‘Get out!’ he muttered, ‘before I lose my temper altogether. Out!’
Diana rose and backed to the door. ‘You’re hateful!’ she exclaimed, her voice unsteady. She went out swiftly banging the door.
After she had gone, Nicholas sank down on to the side of the desk, lighting a cigarette with rather unsteady fingers.
What a hell of a thing to happen! He wondered how many men had been confronted like that by the daughters of their prospective wives. He shook his head wearily. Still, as things stood he could hardly call Madeline his prospective wife. After yesterday they were hardly even friends.
He sighed. He was utterly sickened by the whole affair. He wanted to marry Madeline more than anything else in the world, of that he was certain, but how could he accept a marriage where Diana was treated as being of greater importance than he was? Maybe his was a strict notion, but he couldn’t accept it any other way.
CHAPTER TEN
MADELINE found the days following Nicholas’s abrupt departure from the flat almost more than she could bear. She did her work automatically, inwardly crying for the love she had lost. Diana had remained in bed all day Sunday, but Madeline had not had the stomach to tell her what the doctor had said. She saw the self-satisfied smile on Diana’s face when she heard that Nicholas had left and had been too hurt to say any more.
On Monday Diana went to school as usual and she began treating Madeline with her old affection, but although Madeline submitted in silence she did not respond. She could not. She felt mentally exhausted and dreaded going to work to face Adrian.
However, after inquiring whether Nicholas got back on Saturday Adrian did not make any comment and Madeline was thankful. She did not know what she could reply.
She half-hoped that Nicholas might telephone, but she was doomed to disappointment. She felt helpless. Surely he didn’t intend their affair to end; just like that. Of course, Adrian had warned her that he was not the type to tangle with, but that was not why he had stormed out of the flat. He had despised her for her indecision, her cowardice over Diana, and most of all her refusal to put him first.
Diana stormed home in a rage on Monday evening, her earlier solicitude forgotten. Madeline asked her wearily what was wrong and Diana swung round angrily.
‘Your precious boy-friend’s daughter was out with Jeff yesterday,’ she flared.
‘Out with Jeff? How did that come about? Arid anyway, how do you know? You were in bed.’
Diana flushed. ‘Jeff told me. I met him at lunchtime and he couldn’t wait to blurt it out. He was waiting for me in the market yesterday when Maria and her father came by in that jazzy car of theirs. Maria told him that I was ill and wouldn’t be coming and kindly suggested that he should go with them! They went to London, spent some time looking around and then Mr. Vitale bought them dinner in a plushy grillroom in the West End. You should have heard Jeff! He was positively gloating over it. He says Maria is terrific and has got what it takes, etc., etc.,’ Diana scowled.
She couldn’t very well go on to tell her mother that Jeff was getting a little too ardent in his lovemaking and was continually asking her to relax and stop being so frigid when he tried to make love to her. He had as good as told her that Maria was not like that and that had they been alone he could have really enjoyed himself. He had said Diana was prudish and ought to wake up to life and stop living in a dream world. Diana, young and confused, unable to tell anyone about it, was finding life very complicated at the moment.
‘Well, I shouldn’t worry over that,’ remarked Madeline cynically. ‘I hardly think that Maria will have a great deal to do with Jeff Emerson; not if her father has anything to do with it anyway.’
Diana felt her cheeks burning, remembrance of the morning’s interview with Nicholas Vitale fresh in her mind. She glanced surreptitiously at her mother. Apparently he hadn’t rung her. She had half-expected him to do so and then she would really have been in trouble. As he hadn’t she wondered whether he had taken what she said to heart. She hoped so. Even the business over Jeff wouldn’t seem so bad then. Certainly her mother’s attitude suggested that everything was over.
The Wednesday before Easter brought the performance of the college play in which Diana had a part. Madeline was obviously obliged to go and as Adrian was going too he tentatively suggested that they should go together. Madeline agreed indifferently and Adrian was amazed. He couldn’t understand what had gone wrong between her and Nicholas Vitale, but from her drawn face and tired eyes something definitely had. He decided not to say anything and hope that this would mean things would return to normal.
Madeline was sure she would not be able to concentrate on the play, but she couldn’t back out and as Diana had been so pleasantly reasonable all week she felt it was the least she could do to maintain harmony.
Dressing for the evening she sat before her dressing-table mirror studying her reflection. Her eyes, black rimmed through lack of sleep gave her face a haggard appearance and she was sure she looked every one of her thirty-three years and maybe more. The pallor of her cheeks accentuated the strain already visible in her eyes and she turned away defeatedly.
She wore the dark green coat and went down to meet Adrian when his car turned into the Gardens. Adrian, loving her himself, couldn’t help but see what a drawn and weary state Madeline was in and he found himself wishing that Nicholas Vitale could see what he had done.
They drove in amicable silence to the college, both involved with their own thoughts.
The hall was already quite full, but Adrian’s seats were on the front row, reserved for them. As they neared their seats, a voice said:
‘Hi, Madeline!’
Madeline swung round, her heart lurching. For a moment she had thought it was Nicholas. Instead she found herself face to face with Harvey Cummings.
‘Oh! Hello, Harvey,’ she said quietly, trying to force a smile. He was with the Mastersons and another young woman, but he had risen from his seat to speak to her. Adrian walked on tactfully leaving them alone.<
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‘What gives, honey?’ he asked solemnly, studying her face anxiously.
‘Why…er…I don’t know what you mean,’ she murmured awkwardly.
‘Sure you do. You’ve not seen Nick lately; I have.’ He grimaced. ‘He’s like a bear with a sore head, but he’s not saying what’s wrong. I guess I can guess now.’
Madeline’s heart turned over at Harvey’s words, but sank back again as he continued:
‘His mother arrived from Italy today. She’s brought some dame with her, a distant cousin of Nick’s. I fancy she’s hoping to arrange something interesting.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Honey, ring him, will you? Don’t let his mother get her way through circumstance. Nick’s going out of his mind, believe me.’
Madeline clasped her hands together. ‘Why doesn’t he ring me, then?’
Harvey shrugged. ‘At a guess I’d say he blames you for whatever has happened; you and that daughter of yours, right? Nick’s not proud, but he won’t grovel. That’s why I know there must be something pretty big digging him.’
‘There is.’ Madeline shook her head. ‘Oh, Harvey, do you really think I should?’
‘Sure I do.’ Harvey glanced at Adrian. ‘Did this guy tell you otherwise?’
‘No, of course not. He knows nothing about it.’
Harvey grinned. ‘Good. I was gonna punch him on the nose.’ He put his fingers round her wrist. ‘Honey, Nick’s a great guy. Oh, I know he’s my best friend and we’ve worked together for years, so naturally I’m biased, but he’s never been like this over a dame before. Besides, working beside him at the moment is downright putrid.’
Madeline managed a smile, and Adrian turned round in his seat at that moment.
‘I think you’d better take your seat, Madeline,’ he said. ‘The performance is about to begin.’
Harvey looked searchingly at her, and she nodded slowly.
‘Great!’ he murmured, and after squeezing her wrist he returned to his seat and Madeline took hers.
‘Several tickets were made available for the executives,’ remarked Adrian as the lights were lowered. ‘I wonder why your Mr. Vitale didn’t come himself.’
‘His mother was arriving from Italy today,’ murmured Madeline, in reply. ‘Harvey is his second-in-command, so I guess he gets all these duties.’
Adrian nodded and the curtains opened.
The play was good, but Madeline hardly realized what it was all about. She was too occupied with her own affairs. Tomorrow, if she wanted, she could telephone Nicholas. But the question was now, what could she say?
* * *
Nicholas had not had time on Wednesday morning to go to London Airport to greet his mother and had sent Maria instead in the chauffeur-driven limousine belonging to the company. It was therefore a surprise to him when he arrived back at the hotel at lunch time to find not only his mother awaiting him, but Sophia Ridolfi, too.
He kissed his mother perfunctorily and allowed Sophia to kiss his cheek. This was a contingency he had not bargained for. Not even though he knew how keen his mother was that he should marry Sophia. After all, Sophia was eminently suitable. But Nicholas did not intend to have any match-making done on his behalf, even though he did like Sophia for other reasons.
She looked daintily attractive in a sleek-fitting dress of red velvet which enhanced her fair, delicate colouring. As they had just arrived she was still wearing a silver mink coat and Nicholas was conscious that she was very much the sort of woman he ought to make his wife. She would be the perfect hostess for the social gatherings marriage would prevail upon him to provide and attend, and would always know the right thing to say to his business associates. Rich and affluent parentage ruled out any problems of a mercenary nature and he was sure she would make Maria an admirable stepmother.
Why then did the thought of marriage with her cause him to feel nauseated? He knew the answer, of course. Since meeting Madeline, other women paled into insignificance. It would be impossible for him to live with any other woman now. Even at this moment, his whole body ached for Madeline; her nearness, her warmth, her love. Why didn’t she get in touch with him, telling him that whatever obstacles Diana put in their way, she would marry him at once, without argument?
He looked at his mother. She was a tall, well-built woman, with the raven hair and full lips of her forebears. In her fifties, Maria Cristina Vitale was still a beautiful woman. She wore her long hair, wound in plaits round her shapely head and the severe style in clothes which were designed specially for her gave her a regal air. She had tried for years to dominate Nicholas, making him aware of his responsibilities, but without success. Nicholas was too much like her to allow her to dominate him and it broke her heart to see him wasting his life away and not producing sons to carry on the Vitale line. By bringing Sophia to England with her she hoped that he might come to his senses and realize how utterly suitable Sophia was, both to be his wife, and to be the mother of his sons.
She spoke now to Nicholas, and he smiled rather cynically as she said: ‘Seeing that you refused to wait a few more days to travel over with me, I decided Sophia should keep me company. She can return to Italy with you.’ Her accent was now only slightly accentuated, for she had lived in America too.
Nicholas loosened the collar of his shirt, under his tie.
‘Indeed,’ he murmured. ‘I’m glad you have had Sophia to keep you company.’ He ran a hand round the back of his neck and looked at Maria as though hoping she could give him inspiration. She was only too well aware of her grandmother’s machinations.
Maria raised her shoulders in a slightly helpless way and he said: ‘I…er…I may not be coming to Italy, after all.’
‘Oh, Nick!’ Sophia pouted her lips prettily. ‘Why not? You know we have been looking forward to it. I thought it would be wonderful, just the three of us together.’
Nicholas ran a tongue over his dry lips. ‘Yes, well, something unexpected has come up.’ That at least was true. ‘Look, let’s go and have lunch in the restaurant. We can discuss this later, after you’ve rested. I’m sure you must be feeling very tired after your journey.’
They had lunch and afterwards the two women retired to their rooms to rest without any further discussion of his plans.
Nicholas was glad of the respite and accompanied Maria to her suite. Miss Sykes was dozing in an armchair, but she awakened when they entered. Nicholas usually teased her unmercifully, but today she sensed his mind was elsewhere, as indeed it had been all week.
Maria flopped into an armchair herself and said:
‘Well, Nick, Grandmother is determined to make some headway this time. To go so far as to bring Sophia with her! Well! I mean to say. If I were Sophia I would feel awful!’
Nicholas frowned. ‘You ought not to discuss such things,’ he said moodily. ‘You’re far too promiscuous.’
‘It’s only a veneer,’ remarked Miss Sykes mildly. ‘She’s really quite an innocent.
Maria looked indignant and Nicholas smiled.
‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right, Miss Sykes,’ he said formally, and then sighed heavily. ‘God, what am I going to do?’
He turned and walked out of the apartment, banging the doors behind him, and Maria sighed too.
‘Poor Nick!’ she said regretfully. ‘Something serious has gone wrong between him and Madeline, and I bet that high and mighty daughter of hers has something to do with it!’
* * *
On Thursday, Madeline had to go to work for the morning only. She felt a bundle of nerves. Through the long night she had gone over and over everything that Harvey had said. She also remembered that Nicholas was due to fly to Rome today, so it was highly unlikely that she would be able to contact him anyway.
She decided to at least try to get in touch with him and with shaking fingers she dialled the Stag Hotel at ten o’clock.
The receptionist answered but told her that Mr. Vitale was not in the hotel.
‘I believe he’s gone to the factory,’ he remarked
thoughtfully. ‘You could try there.’
‘Thank you.’ Madeline rang off and lifted the receiver again to ring the Sheridan factory. She had to consult the telephone directory for the number and a few moments later she was speaking to the telephonist at the factory switchboard.
‘Could I speak to Mr. Vitale, please?’ she asked unsteadily.
‘Who is calling, please?’
‘Er…just tell him it’s Madeline. He’ll know who it is.’
The girl asked her to hold the line and Madeline waited impatiently. The waiting was not helping her nervous system and it seemed hours before he answered.
‘Madeline!’ he muttered, in a husky voice. ‘Is that right?’ He sounded incredulous.
Madeline almost dropped the receiver. So great was her relief. He was still in England! He had not yet left for the continent!
‘Yes, it’s me,’ she murmured in a low voice. ‘How are you?’
Nicholas sounded impatient. ‘I’m okay, Madeline, why did you ring?’
‘I…I’d like to see you. Have you got time?’
‘Sure I’ve got time. When?’
‘Well, today. Any time will do for me.’
‘Okay, how about right now? Are you at work?’ His voice was endearingly urgent. Harvey had been right. He did want to see her.
‘Yes, I’m at work. But….’
‘But nothing. I’ll be right over.’ He rang off before she could object and Madeline sat staring at the telephone as though bemused.
Then she gathered her scattered wits. If he was coming over, it was not very far and she had better meet him outside. She had nothing much left to do so she cleared her desk, put the letters ready for the porter, and slipped on her coat.
‘She walked reluctantly to the door of Adrian’s office and opened it.
‘Is it all right if I go now?’ she asked.
He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s only ten-twenty, Madeline.’ He sounded flabbergasted.
‘I know, but this is urgent.’
