by Janet Woods
‘Yes, Madam. Shall I run it for you?’
‘No . . . I can manage for myself.’
‘Just ring the bell if you need anything, and I’ll come straight away.’
After a little while of lying up to her neck in the luxury of warm bubbles Julia relaxed with a grin on her face and thought of Martin. He’d been surprisingly amorous and knew exactly how to excite her senses. He’d welcomed her tentative exploration of him and had guided her hand when she’d hesitated.
Making love with Martin had been fun, and she grinned.
‘I could give you an anatomy lesson at the same time if you like,’ he’d whispered in her ear.
‘Then I’ll be forced to attack you with a pillow.’
The room attached to Latham’s was ready for her occupancy. Not a fleck of dust marred its perfection. She grinned as she kicked off a pair of pink slippers she’d found in the cupboard, and she flopped into the middle of the comfortable bed.
She’d already selected her outfit, one with a Paris designer label on it. Once again, Latham’s taste in clothing surprised her.
As she fell asleep she remembered the contraceptive device, still in her bag. She’d been so eager to fall into Martin’s arms she’d forgotten to insert it. For a moment she felt alarm, but then she remembered that Latham never used protection and she hadn’t caught. In fact, her last period had been two weeks ago. She hoped she wasn’t one of those women who proved to be barren. As sleep began to claim her she thought drowsily that she’d like to have a child of her own to care for, even if it was Latham’s.
Dressed in his evening suit, Martin presented himself at his employer’s house later that evening.
The air was soft, and was wearing that peculiar sweet potpourri fragrance associated with summer’s blending of various blossoms.
Martin felt like a suitor calling on his sweetheart, instead of being the lady’s lover, as he was shown into the half-panelled drawing room. Never in his life had he imagined he would find himself placed in such a precarious position, but love had proved to be a stronger attraction than he’d expected.
Unless Latham agreed to a divorce – and from what he knew of the man he wouldn’t let go of Julia easily – Martin knew he’d spend the rest of his life living for each moment they could be together. Those would be few and far between.
The room he found himself in was pleasant, with pale-blue embossed wallpaper and an expensive-looking Persian carpet in pastel shades. Wing chairs upholstered in dark-blue brocade and a settee of ivory-coloured Indian cotton were covered in exotic cushions. An oversized, but expensive-looking oriental pot in blue and gold stood in one corner.
His heart nearly exploded from his chest when Julia came in, and he noted that she was careful to leave the door open. She was exquisite in a dusky purple dress with a beaded bodice, elbow-length sleeves and a handkerchief skirt that floated around her ankles. Her wavy hair was kept under control by a band that circled her forehead. Diamonds twinkled in her ears.
As she advanced towards him her smile brought an answering one from him, though he tried to keep any intimacy from showing when her eyebrow raised slightly and she said rather wickedly, ‘Martin, my dear, we haven’t seen enough of each other lately . . . how kind of you to agree to be my escort.’
‘How lovely you look, Mrs Miller.’ He handed her a small posy of flowers he’d bought from a seller, which she gave to an older woman who’d followed her in. ‘Place these in water after we’ve gone, please, Mrs James.’
‘Yes, Madam. I’ll fetch your wrap, shall I?’
The wrap was fringed silk and as delicate as a cobweb. It settled over her shoulders like a drifting silvery cloud so she looked like a moonlit sprite.
‘Where shall we go?’ Martin said when they were outside.
‘I have tickets for Phi Phi.’
‘I’ve seen it, but never mind . . . it’s enjoyable so I don’t mind seeing it again.’
‘Latham has lots of friends, and he has a box, so somebody will notice if we don’t use it, and they’ll tell him. And he’s bound to question me about it.’
‘Is Latham really that devious?’
‘He likes to have control of everything and to know what’s going on. That’s his nature,’ she said unhappily.
‘I’m not a man to pander to your husband’s nature.’
‘He even got his clerk to book the restaurant for supper. We’re to put it on his account.’
‘I think I can afford to buy us some supper.’
‘Oh, no male rivalry please, Martin. Let’s just accept things as they are for the time being.’
He waited until they were around the corner then took her hands in his and whispered, ‘But this is so hole-and-corner, and it doesn’t sit easy with me.’
‘Nor me . . . but what else can we do?’
‘Nothing . . . I doubt if Latham will release you from the marriage, though I could ask him.’
‘I have grounds . . . but you’re right. He wouldn’t seriously consider divorce, let alone provide grounds. He’d rather break me . . . you as well, if he finds out.’
‘You’d need to prove grounds . . . and I doubt if your friend Irene would oblige, especially with her connections. Her parents wouldn’t welcome a scandal such as that one would cause.’
‘Then we can provide grounds.’
He wanted to take her in his arms right here in the street. ‘My darling . . . your name would be mud. You’d be ostracized and would probably have to go and live abroad. As for me . . .?’ He shrugged. ‘I’d never be able to get a decent job . . . or go back to medicine.’
‘I wouldn’t mind.’
‘I would . . . oh, I know it would be fun at first. But both of us were brought up to live by a certain standard of decency. I couldn’t stand seeing you pilloried, and Latham would make sure that you were.’ He recalled the condemnation his mother was subjected to by his father, and he knew he couldn’t bear that happening to Julia.
‘Oh, Martin . . . I’m being horribly selfish. I’m so happy when I’m with you, and that’s all I can think about. Let’s just do what Latham wants. It will save an argument with me trying to explain why we didn’t.’
And mindful of the bruises he’d seen on her, and the doubt he felt over the origin of them, he agreed, though he still intended to retain his independence by paying for their dinner.
Tucking her arm in his they resumed walking. One thing Martin was certain of, they wouldn’t fool Latham Miller for long if they kept on meeting. The man was much too astute.
First, they ate supper in Latham’s favourite restaurant. There, the waiters fawned over Julia. Not the case with him, though. The change was subtle, from obsequious through to barely disguised scorn. Perhaps his imagination was working overtime but he felt as though they regarded him as a paid gigolo. He squirmed in his dinner suit at the thought. Paying the bill restored his dignity a little.
Latham couldn’t have picked a play with more irony to it. It was a musical comedy about a Greek sculptor who fell in love with one of his models – a woman who just happened to be married.
During the interval they were approached by several of Latham’s acquaintances, men who exuded power and who flirted with Julia in a respectful sort of manner and acknowledged Martin with a nod of the head, as if he was beneath them. Some of them Martin knew, others Julia introduced him to.
Seated in the red womb of the box, they surreptitiously held hands in the darkness, totally aware of the attraction of the other because the air vibrated around them like an invisible crystal cage. They were also aware that opera glasses were trained on them now and again. There was bound to be speculation.
About halfway through the play Julia tickled the fleshy pad beneath his thumb with a nail painted purple to match her dress. She whispered, ‘Shall we sneak away?’
They stole from the box in the middle of a ragtime song by Cole Porter, when the audience’s attention was riveted on the stage.
A short cab ri
de saw them at Martin’s flat. He followed Julia inside and a short time later they were making love with a passion that Martin hadn’t thought possible. When they were spent, their limbs were tangled around each other.
Martin ran his finger down the length of her nose and her eyes opened. For a moment she gazed at him through dark lashes clumped and sodden with tears. Then she snuggled her soft, translucent cheek against his palm. ‘We probably won’t be able to see each other again after tonight.’
‘I know.’
‘Latham would ruin you if he found out. He might even . . . kill you.’
He smiled at her fancy, sobering though when he was hit by a flying thought. Latham would be more inclined to kill her. ‘You’d be worth dying for.’
‘Except I’d only feel half-alive on a world without you, my darling.’
He held her tight and they slept a little. When the clock chimed ten, they dressed. There was a cab rank, and they were dropped off outside the theatre just as the audience began to trickle out.
She turned her face up to his. ‘What was the ending like?’
‘Phi Phi returns from a night with his lover and catches his wife with Ardimédon in a compromising position.’
‘And then?’
‘He congratulates them for finding the exact pose that he wanted for his sculpture.’
The small huff of laughter she gave had a slightly hollow sound to it.
A few people bade them goodnight.
They waited until their cab went off with passengers, then picked up another one.
‘You’re a devious man, Martin.’
‘I don’t want you to be in any trouble, my love.’
‘He’s bound to go away again, you know.’
In the darkness of the cab he kissed her, then he got out of the cab and went round to open the door for her. He stood and waited while she walked to the door and knocked. How odd that she didn’t have a key to her own home.
She turned when it opened, and offered politely, ‘Mr Lee-Trafford, would you like to come in for coffee?’
He couldn’t flaunt their relationship, especially in Latham’s own home. It was asking for trouble.
‘Thank you, but no. I have to be at work early tomorrow. Goodnight, Mrs Miller.’
The door closed behind her and the house swallowed her up as the cab drove away.
Julia had never felt so abandoned. She supposed it was a price she’d have to pay for her duplicity.
She tossed up whether to take a bath or not, and decided that she’d better. After all, she’d often noticed Irene’s perfume on Latham.
‘It was hot in the theatre, so I’m going to take a bath before bed.’ She wondered why she was giving an excuse to a servant, when she could bathe twenty times a day if she wanted to. Guilt, she supposed.
‘Will you bring me up some hot milk please, Mrs James? Leave it on the bedside table if I’m still in the bath.’
She lay there, surrounded in warm water, waffling between the pleasure of being with Martin, and despair at the thought of not being able to be alone with him ever again. Reluctantly she washed him from her body, dried herself and went through to the bedroom.
She took a sleeping pill with her warm milk, slid between the sheets and fell asleep almost instantly.
When a warm body slid in beside her she thought it was Martin. Turning in his arms she whispered, ‘Hello, darling, how did you get here? Am I dreaming?’
‘Hello, my love. I thought you sounded upset, so Charles Curruthers flew me across the channel to be with you. I shouldn’t have left you alone for such a long time.’
All her nerves went on alert and she wanted to scream with disgust when Latham kissed her. Thank goodness she hadn’t stayed at Martin’s flat.
‘I’m tired . . . I’ve just taken a sleeping pill . . .’
‘Then you’ll be nice and relaxed . . . I’ve missed you, Julia, and he kissed each breast. Just lie there and enjoy yourself.’
Enjoy herself? This would be a punishment after Martin.
‘Did you enjoy the play?’
‘I just want to sleep, Latham,’ she pleaded. She didn’t want Latham’s hands on her, fondling her roughly and him thrusting himself into her, hurting her inside and out. But she was too sleepy from the pill to protest too much.
Her mind strayed to Martin and his tenderness, as he pushed her legs apart and entered her.
‘You’re hurting me.’
‘Stop whining, Julia . . . I need to hurt you . . . you’re much too rebellious and must learn to treat me with respect. Tell me about the play . . . What was the hero’s name?’
‘Hideous . . . no, no . . . it was Phidias.’
The light was suddenly switched on and she squinted against it.
‘I suppose you think that was funny.’
‘No . . . it was a mistake, the sleeping pill has made my mind go fuzzy.’
‘Never hang up the telephone on me again,’ he said, and he slapped her face.
All vestiges of sleep fled, and just in time she remembered not to cry out, so it became a muffled groan. It was bad enough that Mrs Finnigan felt sorry for her without the staff here doing the same.
Eventually, Latham finished his punishment of her, satisfied himself and left for his own room.
Julia quietly cried herself to sleep. There couldn’t have been a worse way to end such a beautiful evening.
Thirteen
September and October passed in a swirling glory of metallic colours. Autumn drifted from the trees in bronze, copper, brass and gold shapes and fragments. Nuts fell to the ground, rust coloured and glossy.
Julia didn’t have a chance to be alone with Martin again, though she managed to talk to him over the telephone on a couple of occasions.
‘I found an address for my mother amongst my father’s papers and wrote to her,’ he told her. ‘Loving you has shown me that emotion is a strong force. I can’t condemn her for being human, and she must have wondered about me.’
‘That’s wonderful, Martin. I’m so pleased, and I hope everything goes well.’
‘I’m also making enquiries about what’s available to me in my profession. I should be able to get some locum work after I’ve been cleared as being fit to resume my profession.’
‘Good luck, my darling . . . I love you.’
‘And I you.’
Latham still came to Surrey at weekends, spending his weekdays in London. Sometimes he spent the weekend behind his desk, or on the telephone, and sometimes he just relaxed, taking long walks with the dogs. People came from the village for lunch or a game of tennis on the newly built court, and she was almost happy sometimes.
Julia realized she’d missed a period, and a little quiver of excitement lodged in her. When she missed the second one she was almost sure.
She woke one morning and went down to breakfast. Agnes Finnigan served her bacon and eggs for breakfast. Julia took one look at her plate and sprinted to the bathroom.
When she returned to the dining room the eggs had been replaced with a piece of toast and some gooseberry conserve to spread on it. Mrs Finnigan had a smile on her face, and Julia grinned. ‘I’ve missed two, so I’d better go and see the doctor.’ Her smile faded. ‘Then I must tell Latham.’
‘Congratulations, my dear. It will be lovely to have a baby in the house. Mr Miller will be pleased.’
The doctor was all smiles as he examined her. ‘It seems as though your suspicions are correct, Mrs Miller. Your baby should be born about the end of May. You’re a little on the thin side, so you must eat healthy food and drink plenty of milk. My nurse will give you a list of what will be needed for your lying-in. Goodness, that’s quite an arrangement of bruises on your thighs. How did that happen?’
‘I tripped over a table. I haven’t told my husband about the baby yet . . . He might want me to have the baby in London and be under the care of a specialist gynaecologist.’
‘You tell him that the country air will do you good, and I’ve deli
vered hundreds of healthy babies in my time. Better still, send him to see me and I’ll tell him myself. I’ll also remind him not to leave any more tables in your way, since we don’t want any harm to come to mother or infant, do we?’
She blushed, She should have known the doctor wouldn’t have been fooled by her injuries.
Julia’s first thought when she arrived home was to telephone Martin, because she was sure it was his baby. But it was Latham who answered. ‘Julia . . . how did you know I was here?’
Her heart sank and she thought quickly. ‘Didn’t you mention it over breakfast last weekend? I’ve just got back from seeing the doctor.’
‘Your voice sounds odd . . . Is something wrong?’
‘No, Latham . . . nothing is wrong.’ And indeed, she couldn’t stop smiling as she blurted it out, because even if it turned out to be Latham’s baby she’d still love the child. ‘The doctor tells me that I’m perfectly healthy. I’m expecting a baby, that’s all, around about May. The doctor said I should give birth to the baby here, since the country air will be beneficial . . . and he’s delivered hundreds of babies.’
‘I’ll talk to the doctor myself, to make sure.’ There was a moment of silence then he whispered, ‘You’ve made me a very happy man, Julia. I’ll be home early tonight, and you won’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll hire a nurse to look after you, and I’ll have a room turned into a nursery.’
There was a noise in the background and she heard him say, ‘Lee-Trafford. I’d like you to be the first to know; Mrs Miller is expecting a baby in May.’
‘Congratulations,’ she heard him say, and her heart ached and her mind reached out to him.
‘You can talk to Julia if you like. I’m going to make sure they get the right balance on that press they’re installing. Lee-Trafford wants to talk to you, darling. I’ll see you this evening. The car is being serviced so I’ll take the afternoon train.’
A few seconds later Martin’s voice said, ‘Julia . . . he’s gone.’
‘Oh, Martin. I wanted to tell you first . . . I didn’t expect Latham to be there. I’m sure this is our baby.’
