With a startled exclamation she looked up to see Gregory moving forward from the shadows. Her sadness and tiredness disappeared as though by magic and she gave a laugh of pure joy and held out her hands to him.
He took them and pulled her closer. Pleased to see me?' Not waiting for her answer, he continued, ‘I had to go abroad unexpectedly for a few days. That's why I haven't been in touch with you.'
'I thought you'd forgotten me.'
He stared down at her, then saw by her expression that her remark was not a flirtatious one. ‘You really mean that, don't you?' he said softly.
'Yes.'
'I couldn't forget you, Melanie. I've been thinking about you the whole time.' He took her arm beneath his and they walked along to where he had parked the silver-grey Rolls.
Once again he took her to a quiet restaurant, a different one from the previous time, but where the food and service were equally good. She did not know of what they spoke, but only knew that the time passed as though on wings. Yet she was aware that he was enjoying himself, for he laughed frequently and spoke frankly of his childhood and schooldays and his early years in business.
This second evening set the pattern for the many others that followed, and they met so frequently that on the evenings when he did not see her she felt as though a part of herself were missing.
'And what is going to be the outcome of all this?’ Verenskaya asked one evening as Melanie let herself into the flat.
'Outcome of what?' Melanie said, deliberately avoiding the question.
‘You know very well what I mean. You and Gregory. It's three weeks since he first took you out and this is the tenth - twentieth - time you have seen him!'
'Not as many as that,' Melanie smiled, 'so don't go all dramatic on me. Gregory and I are just friends.'
There's no such thing as friendship between a young man and woman. Not if they are both normal!'
'Gregory is quite normal,' Melanie retorted.
'Has he kissed you?'
'Of course not,' she said hastily. ‘Why should he?'
Verenskaya snorted. 'What nonsense you talk. Why should he kiss you?' The claw-like hands lifted in a wide gesture. 'Because you are pretty and desirable, that's why.'
'I'm sure he knows women far more desirable than I am.'
'Then why doesn't he take them out?'
'Perhaps he does. I don't see him every night, you know.'
'I'd be surprised if he is seeing someone else.' The humour had gone from Verenskaya's voice. 'Be careful, Melanie. This man can be dangerous. I don't want you breaking your heart again.'
‘You're making something out of nothing,' Melanie retorted. ‘We're just friends.'
'Is that how you really feel about him - as if he is a friend? Don't your pulses race when you see him? Don't you want to throw yourself into his arms and—'
'Stop it!' Melanie burst out. 'Must you question everything I do?'
'I don't want you to be hurt again,' Verenskaya said remorselessly, 'and the way you are going on, you will.'
Melanie sighed and sat down in the chair opposite Verenskaya. 'You're always right,' she said wearily. 'Of course I want to throw myself into his arms when I see him, but what good would it do?
'You don't know until you try.'
'Gregory isn't the sort of man with whom you try. He has to make the first move.'
'And he hasn't?'
‘No.'
'I am surprised.' Verenskaya's voice was more guttural than usual, a sure indication of her concern. 'I would not have thought he was slow. From the first moment I saw him he struck me as a man of deep feeling.'
'Perhaps that's why he's being careful. After all, I was married to his cousin…'
'You have never told him the full truth about that, have you?'
Melanie shook her head. 'I can't. It seems so disloyal. Perhaps if Gregory said something to me - if I knew what he felt about me…'
'One day you will have to tell him the truth,' Verenskaya said ponderously. 'You owe it to him and yourself.'
'At the moment I can't. We're still only friends.'
'Then don't see him so often. Perhaps if you refuse him a few times he might say something to you.'
He might equally decide that I don't want to see him.'
'If he loves you and you refuse to go out with him, he'll demand an explanation. If he doesn't, you will know he does not love you.'
‘I don't want to know,' Melanie said slowly.
You would rather live in a fool's paradise?'
There's no point in discussing it. I'm already in love with him. Whether or not he loves me doesn't make any difference.'
But these were words uttered out of pride, and the next night she made a determined effort to arouse him, wearing her aquamarine dress and setting her hair away from her face, a style which emphasized her slanting eyes. Yet Gregory made no comment throughout the evening, and only as he said goodnight did he give any indication that he had noticed her more glamorous appearance.
'If I'd known you were going to dress up, I'd have worn a dinner jacket and taken you to the Savoy'
She shrugged. 'I just thought you might be tired of seeing me in cotton dresses all the time!'
'I wouldn't get tired of you if you wore a sack!' He leaned closer and she tilted her face upwards, convinced that he was going to kiss her. But though his lips met hers it was a fleeting touch, over almost before it had begun.
'I won't be able to see you during the week-end, Melanie, Fenwick's invited me down to his country place.'
Disappointment made her catch her breath, but it gave way to anxiety as she absorbed what he had said. 'He's not going to do anything with the factory, is he?'
‘I'm not sure. That's one of the reasons I've accepted his invitation. I'll see you as soon as I get back.'
He was at the car when she spoke his name aloud, and he swung round to look at her. 'Did you call me?’
'Yes. I wanted to know if - if you liked my dress.'
Even in the moonlight she could see the smile playing at the corners of his mouth. 'Not the dress,' he said gravely, 'as much as the girl who's filling it.'
During the week-end Melanie hugged his words to herself, saying them over and over again, and each time reading a different meaning into them. Even the knowledge that Lydia would certainly be spending every moment with him could not mar her happiness, and she counted the hours until she would be seeing him again.
On Monday morning she awoke with a feeling of pleasurable anticipation, and every time the telephone rang she expected it to be Gregory. But there was no word from him during the entire day, and by Tuesday she was irritable with worry and fear. Why hadn't he called her as promised? Was he staying in the country longer than he had anticipated or had the few days spent in Lydia's company made him realize how unsuitable she herself was?
On Tuesday afternoon, unable to bear the anxiety, she telephoned his office and asked the switchboard operator if he was away.
'He's in conference,' came the reply. ‘Would you like to speak to his secretary?’
'No, thank you.' She replaced the telephone and faced the unpalatable fact that he might have decided not to see her again or - at best - to see her less frequently. The knowledge filled her with depression and, as always, her dancing was affected, causing acid comment from Anton as she left the stage that night.
'I suppose you've quarrelled with Gregory again?'
'Do I always dance badly because I'm upset by a man?’
'That's generally your reason.'
'Well, you're wrong,' she retorted. ‘I happen to be feeling off colour, and it's got nothing to do with Gregory or anyone else!'
'Then get changed and I'll take you home.'
'I'm not dying,' she answered, still irritated. 'I'd prefer to be by myself.'
In her dressing-room she listlessly changed and, with her coat over her arm, went downstairs and out into the alleyway. As the stage door shut behind her a man stepped forward, and seeing
his face she gave an exclamation of joy.
'Gregory!' She held out her hands. 'I wasn't expecting you.'
Not touching her, he walked slightly ahead of her to the car, and with an undefinable feeling of anxiety she followed him and took her place beside him. To her sin-prise he did not make for Soho where they usually dined, but headed the car towards Hyde Park.
'Did you have a nice week-end?' she asked.
'The usual. Too much food and not enough exercise.'
His answer was so unforthcoming that she did not question him further, and sat in silence as he skirted the dark, gleaming Serpentine, and finally came to a stop beside it.
He twisted round in his seat. 'I managed to get a ticket for tonight's performance,' he said abruptly. 'You were wonderful.'
She warmed to the compliment, feeling her unease lift Thank you. Anton's a marvellous partner.'
'Is he a good lover too?’
The question was so brutal and crude that she was speechless.
‘Well,' Gregory said harshly, ‘you haven't answered me.'
'I'd rather pretend you hadn't asked.'
'Why? Are you afraid to answer?'
'No!' she burst out. 'Only afraid that if I do, I might say something I'll regret. Now, if you don't mind,' she continued in a tight voice, 'I'd like you to take me home.'
He made no move to do so and she edged into the far corner of her seat, fighting back the tears and wishing she were a million miles away. The silence lengthened and the darkness around them seemed to increase, though it might have been born from the darkness of despair that engulfed her. Gradually her anger faded and, unwilling for things to end this way, she forced herself to ask the question uppermost in her mind.
'Why did you ask me that about Anton? I know you don't like him, but why should you suddenly think that he - that I…' Her voice died away and she waited for his answer. But none came, and after the silence had continued for what seemed an unbearable length of time, her anger returned. 'You've no right to accuse me of something and then not give me a chance to defend myself.'
'I have given you a chance. I asked if Anton was your lover and you refused to answer.'
'Would you believe me if I said no? Even the way you asked the question was an accusation! What have you heard about me, Gregory? What am I supposed to have done?'
‘Walked out on Timothy the day you married him and spent your wedding night in Anton's flat!'
Melanie gave a shuddering sigh and closed her eyes, hoping that by shutting out Gregory's face she could also shut out his words. But nothing could erase them, and each one burned in her brain like a wound. So this was how Lydia had spent the week-end; filling Gregory with lies that had aroused all his old, earlier dislike of her. Yet oddly enough she could not feel any anger towards the girl, only pity that she could have acted so cheaply.
'I suppose Lydia told you,' she murmured. 'Don't bother denying it,' she added as he made a disclamatory gesture. 'She's the only one Timothy might have told!'
'Tell me if it's true,' he asked.
That Anton's my lover or that I stayed with him on my wedding night? I'll only answer one question, Gregory, you'll have to decide the other one for yourself.' She clenched her hands tightly together. ‘I did stay with Anton the night I married Timothy! Does that help you to find the other answer?' Even in the dim light that came from the dashboard she saw him turn so pale that his eyes were like black sockets. 'You always believe the worst of everyone,' she said pityingly. 'You don't know the meaning of faith.'
Her words acted on him like a whiplash. 'What faith can I have in you if you spent your wedding night with another man?'
‘Where did you expect me to spend it?' she cried, her control snapping. ‘With a husband who'd been making love to another girl an hour before?'
‘What?' Gregory shouted the word and caught her shoulders. ‘What did you say?'
You heard,' she said wearily, too exhausted and shocked to pretend any longer. 'That's why I went to Australia with the Company. I hadn't had any intention of going on the torn:, but after I saw… after I discovered…' Tears choked her and, unable to continue, she tinned her face away and stared unseeingly through the window.
Behind her there was a slight movement and she felt a handkerchief placed into her hand. 'Wipe your eyes,' Gregory said gently, 'and tell me the whole story.'
For several moments she did not answer, though she was intensely aware of the man beside her. She heard the scrape of a match and saw his reflection briefly in the window as he lit a cigarette. Then there was no other sound except her own fast, shallow breathing.
'I'm waiting, Melanie,' he said at last. 'Tell me what happened.' His voice deepened. 'I beg you.'
It was the last sentence more than anything else which prompted her to answer him, but she still kept her head averted as she recounted as briefly as possible the ugly events of her wedding night, though she omitted the name of the girl she had seen in Timothy's arms.
'And now you know the whole sordid little story,' she concluded. 'I made it perfectly clear to Timothy that I never wanted to see him again, but he didn't take any notice. He decided to fly out - and the rest you know.'
'Why didn't you tell me this before?'
'I wanted to… There were times when I tried, but it didn't seem right.'
'Such stupid loyalty,' he said roughly. 'You preferred to blacken your own name, rather than—'
'I didn't prefer it,' she interrupted, 'but if I'd tried to tell you the truth when we first met you wouldn't have believed me. And afterwards—'
She did not continue, and he said curiously: 'And afterwards? Why didn't you tell me then? When we first started to go out together.'
'I wanted to know if you could see for yourself that I wasn't - that I wasn't the sort of girl who'd run away from marriage.'
'I told you I believed in you,' he said quietly. 'I told you that only a few days ago. Why didn't you tell me the whole story then?'
'Because it didn't seem important any more.' She still kept her head averted. 'I hadn't realized your belief in me was so ephemeral; that it could change so quickly.'
There was the sound of a window gliding down and his movement told her that he had thrown his cigarette away.
'You've every right to be angry,' Gregory's voice held an unusual shakiness. 'I've no excuse to offer except that - except that jealousy can make a man blind.' There was a pause and when he spoke again his voice was harder. 'Who was the girl?'
Melanie did not reply.
‘Was it Lydia?'
She said nothing, but the way her body stiffened at the mention of the name must have given him his answer, for he gave an exclamation of anger. 'She must have been mad! What could she have hoped to gain by it?'
'I suppose she was just furious at being turned down by someone she considered inferior… Or perhaps she was just as drunk as Timothy was. It was just bad luck I came in and saw them.' Melanie turned her face away from the window but still did not look directly at Gregory. 'If the same thing happened today, I'd probably behave differently, but at the time I was so naive I couldn't face the fact that my Prince Charming only existed in my imagination.'
All at once she began to cry, the relief of telling him breaking the control of months. She put his handkerchief to her eyes and the aroma of after-shave lotion which he used was strong in her nostrils, making him seem even closer than he already was and reminding her how easily his belief in her had been shattered by Lydia's ugly accusation. The tears fell faster and her breath came in gasping little jerks which made him move across his seat and pull her into his arms.
'Don't cry, Melanie. It's all over.' He smoothed the hair away from her damp cheeks and, taking the handkerchief from her hand, gently Wiped her eyes. 'You've no reason to cry any more. You've got so much happiness ahead of you. You are a successful dancer and one day you'll be famous.'
'I don't want fame,' she gulped. 'It isn't enough.'
'I thought it was what you wa
nted most of all.'
She shook her head. 'If I'd only been interested in my career I'd never have married Timothy. It was only when things went wrong that I concentrated on my dancing. If it hadn't been for that, I don't know how I'd have got through those awful months.'
'And I haven't helped by reminding you of them.' His hand stopped stroking her hair but remained on her head, making it difficult for her to move away. 'Poor Melanie! The Ransomes seem to have an aptitude for hurting you!'
'You haven't hurt me,' she said quickly.
'I did when we first met,' he said gravely, 'and I did so again tonight.' She did not answer, and he put his other hand on her head and lowered them both to cup her face. 'I never want to hurt you, Melanie. I love you too much to cause you a moment's unhappiness.'
Incredulous, she stared at him, unable to believe she had heard him correctly yet frightened to ask him to repeat it. But he could see from the look in her eyes how she felt and he gave ‘ slight, imperceptible nod. 'Yes, Melanie, it's true. I love you.'
Still she found it impossible to speak and mistaking her reaction, he dropped his hands away from her and moved back into his seat. 'I wasn't going to tell you yet.' He spoke swiftly and jerkily. 'I wanted to give you a chance to get to know me properly - to forget the way I behaved when we first met.' He gave a short, unamused laugh. 'I must say I've done pretty well tonight.' He swung round to look at her again. 'Can you forgive me, Melanie? Is there a chance that—'
'Gregory!' she put her hand against his lips. 'Darling, don't be so stupid.'
At the tone in her voice he bent closer, and the look on her face this time made any more words between them unnecessary. With an exclamation he pulled her close and for the first time placed his mouth firmly and directly on hers. It was a kiss of control, yet she sensed the passion and, knowing an undreamed-of joy, an ecstasy never before experienced, her lips trembled and parted beneath his. The movement was enough to break his guard, and his grip became tighter as his control disappeared in a tide of passion that obliterated time and coherent thought.
At last he pushed her away from him with shaking hands. 'No, Melanie! There's a limit even to my self-control!'
Echoing the sentiments though she did not say them, she smoothed down her ruffled hair, aware that though he was keeping his distance he was watching her every movement.
Roberta Leigh - My Hearts a Dancer Page 13
