“I’ve put every cent towards it. The two shops are the start towards a chain store. It will mean postponing our marriage for another twelve months.”
“Of course.”
Melissa wondered whether she cared that Bob had put back their wedding so casually. Of course, it solved one looming problem. It put into the far future the day when she would have to decide whether she really wanted to marry Bob or not. Peter Darcy’s kisses, and her inexplicable abandonment to them, had left her confused and unsettled about the idea of marriage and Bob Williams.
The unpleasant episode when her fiancé had demanded the privileges of their closer relationship rose before her. She shuddered at the memory. Bob put her revulsion at his approach down to her inexperience and grudgingly agreed to wait until after they were married. Then again, if he really loved her, why was he postponing their marriage?
“Do you love me?” Melissa asked suddenly.
“Really, Melissa! What a curious question.”
“Do you?” Melissa repeated.
“Of course I do,” Bob agreed impatiently.
“You never bother to tell me so.”
“Now really, Melissa!” Bob looked sulky as he answered. “We’re engaged, aren’t we? That sort of thing can keep until we are married.”
Melissa had it on the tip of her tongue to ask what sort of thing. Surely reassuring someone that you loved them shouldn’t have to wait until marriage!
“Let’s go dancing tonight,” Melissa suggested impulsively.
She decided that she wanted some brightness and warmth and laughter. She wanted some energetic activity to shake up the dead flatness that enveloped her.
“Dancing!” Bob shrugged. “Tonight I am stocktaking at the new shop.”
“Can’t your assistant do that?”
“Doubtless.” Bob was short. “It’s more efficient if there are the two of us.”
“Think I’ll go home for the weekend,” Melissa decided.
“Might as well,” Bob agreed with relief.
They walked back to her apartment in silence. A flamboyant red sports car was parked directly outside.
“One of Sonia’s friends, I suppose,” Bob commented.
“Might be,” Melissa replied.
She was nettled by the implied criticism in his voice. He had been outspoken in his condemnation of Sonia when he discovered they were sharing a flat. The fact that Sonia laughed at his remarks only made him more antagonistic. If the enmity was one-sided, it was nevertheless strong enough to make Melissa uncomfortable.
“Well, I don’t want to meet them!” Bob gave Melissa quick peck on the cheek and hurried off.
Melissa went up the stairs thoughtfully. Was romance over when you became engaged, so that it was a bore to go dancing? Were there more important things to do than waste your weekend in the company of your fiancé? She was only twenty, and Bob treated her as if she were a hundred.
She opened the front door. A man sprawled in the armchair just inside the lounge. He rose at her entrance. He had curling black hair and dancing brown eyes. A gold earring twinkled through the tangled curls. Melissa took in the suede-fringed jacket and shabby jeans. Sonia’s friends were usually the last word in elegance and beautifully cut suits.
“That you, Sweetie?” Sonia called from the bathroom.
“Yes.”
“Melissa, meet Pierre. Pierre, meet Melissa.”
Melissa smiled, and he grinned back.
“The quiet flat mate?” There was a faint accent in his voice.
Melissa decided that if this was Sonia’s new boyfriend, she liked him. He radiated a warm friendliness. Sonia came out. She was dashing in a blue velvet suit and a cheeky beret. There was an air of suppressed excitement about her.
“We’re going over to Nice to see Pierre’s parents,” she explained. “I only came in to change clothes.”
“Then we meet your family,” Pierre reminded her. “It is the correct thing.”
Sonia pulled a face. “Not this week, Pierre my darling. Your family first, and then you can beard my family in their den.”
Pierre stood up and grinned down at her. It was a slow, sleepy grin. Something passed between them. The mockery faded from Sonia’s eyes. For that one moment, she wasn’t the flippant, poised young woman that Melissa knew, but a starry-eyed girl deeply in love.
A pang went through Melissa. They looked so right together, and so sure of each other. She thought of her fiancé. He never looked happy or relaxed in her company. He was always matter-of-fact and businesslike. Had she had a good week? Had she been able to keep up her target of saving a third of her wages each week? A faint sigh escaped her.
Sonia studied her, and a faint frown creased her forehead. “Want a lift to the station, Sweetie?”
Melissa shook her head. Sonia looked at her watch.
“Heavens! We’re running late again. Time and planes wait for no man.”
Pierre gave an expressive shrug as he picked up the blue holdall and allowed himself to be hustled out. The door slammed, and they were gone.
All the time that Melissa tidied the flat and packed her case, she wrestled with the problem. Bob was very kind, and she got on well with him, but was that sufficient reason to drift into marriage? Surely there was something more in life? The way Sonia and Pierre had looked at each other rose before her.
The thought of the life she had chosen by becoming Bob’s wife stretched ahead of her. She was suddenly repelled. Naturally people got married and had their children, but surely there was something else.
She sat in the train and stared unseeingly out the window. She had never fought with Bob, so why were all these doubts nagging at her? Had they been triggered by the radiance and glow between Sonia and Pierre? And also the memory of Peter Darcy’s kisses, an honest voice pointed out in the back of her mind.
She tried to bring herself back to thinking sensibly. Bob was practical and hardheaded; not very romantic, but caring and sensible. Too hardheaded, pointed out the critical voice. They always got on well together, she argued, trying to drown it out. Because you give in to him, and agree with him, pointed out that same dispassionate voice.
For a fleeting moment, Melissa stopped arguing with herself, and wondered what would happen if she stood up to him. A long-forgotten memory of their one fight flashed before her. Bob had wanted her to drop her drama classes. He had roared and then sulked, but then came the dreadful accident that had killed her brother and divided her life in half, and she wasn’t interested in her drama classes any more.
Her mind lingered on the memory of Bob thwarted. The logical voice inside her pointed out that he had all the trappings of a domestic bully. She sighed. If only she could discuss the way she felt with someone. Not Sonia, who was so flippant, or her mother, always so preoccupied. The memory rose of her father as he used to be, with his alert warm eyes, and his quiet chuckle. Misery filled her with an aching loneliness.
Her weekend at home followed its usual pattern. She tiptoed into the empty house, left her case in the bedroom, and then caught the bus to the hospital. Her mother sat by the bedside. Melissa’s heart turned over with pity at her careworn face.
“He looks much better, dear,” whispered her mother, without taking her eyes off the peaceful face.
Melissa kissed her without answering. She had never realized before just how much her mother loved her father. Not many couples had been as devoted as her parents, but because it was always in front of her she had accepted it unthinkingly.
It was then she faced the fact that she had never felt that way about Bob, and never would, no matter how well she got on with him. She sat in silence and watched the peaceful face of her father. There was something special about the loving closeness between her parents, and now between Sonia and Pierre, but all she and Bob could ever be were acquaintances, and not close ones at that.
The weekend wore on. There was the pilgrimage to her brother’s grave, and visiting hours at the hospital. Why, oh wh
y, was her mother so vague and remote, especially now when she needed the help and support of an older, wiser, person?
“We can have an early dinner before you go, dear,” her mother suggested. “And then I can get back to the hospital.”
Melissa looked at the tired, worn face of her mother with a sudden surge of tenderness. It was natural that her mother was bewildered and grief-stricken. The bottom had dropped out of her world, and she couldn’t adjust. She had no right to resent her mother’s preoccupation with the hospital visiting hours.
The question that had been going around in her mind for the entire weekend suddenly came out. “How do you know when you are in love?”
The tired grey eyes focused on Melissa as if they were seeing her for the first time, and the gentle smile appeared. “My darling, when you fall in love you will know without any doubt or question. It is as simple as that.”
Was it as simple as that, Melissa wondered? It was then that she told her mother rather diffidently that she had changed her mind about marrying Bob. This confidence didn’t receive the attention she had hoped it would. Her mother was watching the time.
“Have you, dear? I really must go. The visiting hours are so short.”
Melissa sighed, and kissed her gently as they parted at the bus stop.
By the time she returned to the flat, she felt more tired than at the start of her weekend. It was something of a wrench to have decided against marrying Bob. He was a well-established habit and she had become accustomed to him. She was turning the key in the door when he materialized out of the darkness beside her.
“Oh,” she said startled. She opened the door and switched on the light.
“Enjoy your weekend?” he asked. He fidgeted. “Thought we might go and see a show tonight if you like.”
Melissa stood for a few seconds feeling a growing discomfort. It was all right to think about breaking off with Bob, but looking at his unsuspecting face gave her a feeling of guilt.
“Come in, Bob,” she said. “I want to talk to you.”
He came in and waited in the center of the large room, his face darkening with rage as she explained that she felt it would be a mistake to think of marrying, even in the future.
“Of course, you have always been a good friend to me, and I hope we will continue to be friends,” she faltered off into the silence.
“What sort of nonsense is this?” he blustered, lips compressing into a thin line.
“I think we have been making a mistake in thinking that we are suited as a couple.” She tried to keep her voice steady.
She looked into the eyes of a stranger. All the pleasantness and good-humor had been swept away, leaving them hard and calculating. He shot out an arm, and grasped her shoulder and shook her.
“You know we are going to get married!”
Melissa cringed inwardly at the bullying note in his voice. She tried to shake herself free.
“Well, we are not,” she said flatly.
“But you love me,” he protested, his pale face flushing.
He tightened his grasp on her and tried to kiss her. Sudden revulsion filled her. This was not what lovemaking should be about. She struggled to free herself.
“I’m not going to marry you, and let me go.”
“Dear me,” mocked a voice behind them.
Bob flung around as if he had been stung. “This is your doing,” he accused. “Melissa was quite happy until she shifted in with you and your easy-come easy-go bedmates.”
Sonia put her head back and pealed with laughter. Behind her, Pierre flushed an angry red and moved lithely forward, his fist blurring as it connected with Bob’s chin. Bob staggered, holding his jaw.
“You probably wouldn’t make any man a decent wife anyway.”
The door slammed. He was gone! Reaction set in. Melissa was shaking as she sat down.
“He’s never behaved like that before,” she stammered.
“Never had to.” Sonia was still amused, and Pierre gave her a warning glance.
“You are upsetting Melissa. You will get her something hot to drink. She is cold.” There was a note of command in his voice.
“Coffee coming up,” Sonia promised.
She spoke so quietly that Melissa looked at her. There was a softness to her eyes that made her look years younger, and a luminous air of contentment enfolded her. Melissa vaguely recognized a certain smugness, almost a gleeful triumph about Sonia, but she was too upset and shaken to analyze what it was.
Sonia came with the coffee. Melissa drank it in silence, busy with her own thoughts. Now she had come to know Pierre, it was unthinkable to see Sonia without him. He had an inner warmth and strength that complemented Sonia’s nature.
Yet how would Peter Darcy take Sonia’s involvement with someone else? He was not a man to be brushed off lightly. What would happen to the long-standing family arrangement about their marriage?
Pierre commented that Melissa looked tired, finished his coffee, and rose to go. Sonia pouted as she saw him to the door.
“Then it is an early night for us, Sweetie?”
“Do you good,” was the reply, and Pierre smiled his brief warm smile and left.
Sonia came back, took one look at Melissa’s woebegone face, and started to chuckle.
“Bob Williams was a pompous bore, and you’re well rid of him. What a pity the engagement was only verbal, and you haven’t got a nice dress ring as a memento! A good night’s sleep and some new clothes, and I promise you will feel like a new woman!”
Melissa grinned unwillingly and went to bed. It was Sonia’s predictable solution to any of the problems of life: a good night’s sleep and some new clothes! It always seemed to work for her, too!
As it probably will for you, she told herself sleepily. To her surprise, she immediately fell into a remarkably carefree and refreshing sleep.
Five
The hairdresser beamed her approval.
“The short hair suits madam,” she praised.
Melissa looked into the mirror with delighted amazement. She looked so different! The shining curls clustered around her oval face, emphasizing her high cheekbones, and giving her face a look of haughty elegance, and her grey eyes looked enormous.
Sonia had been teasing her for months to have her hair cut, but Bob had insisted he liked it long and always said how elegant it looked when she pinned it up. With Bob gone, Sonia had redoubled her teasing.
“That bun is very suitable for an elderly lady, and if you really had bow legs like a piano I would be all for those peculiar hemlines,” she had persisted, with the usual wicked sparkle in her eyes. “Now horrid Bob is out of your system, what about living dangerously and having it cut off!”
Melissa had giggled, and eventually capitulated. “All right! To save you using your nail-scissors on my hair and my hems, I’ll take the plunge!”
When she left the hairdresser, she had a spring in her step. Sonia was right! She was much too young to wear her hair dragged back, no make-up and sober clothes. Now that her marriage to Bob no longer hung over her head like an ominous black cloud, she intended to splurge the money she had been putting away so thriftily for all the months. She would buy a completely new wardrobe; a glamorous wardrobe, not way-out or extravagant, but just something to make herself look and feel pretty.
There was still plenty of shopping time left in her Saturday morning. She headed towards the small boutiques with an excited gleam of anticipation in her eyes. She couldn’t remember ever being so reckless before about buying clothes, but somehow, this morning, it seemed the right thing to do.
For the first time in her life she felt pretty inside as well. She knew she sparkled confidence and assurance. She had gained a lot of dress-sense from living with Sonia, but Bob had discouraged her from trying out the spectrum of colors Sonia insisted would suit her.
“Don’t wear flamboyant colors,” Bob had complained, over and over again. “You look better in modest unobtrusive colors, and plain clothes are a
lot more practical and hard-wearing.”
Well! Melissa wasn’t in the mood for the dark greys and browns that played down her delicate coloring. As she went from shop to shop, she chose outfits with a gleeful abandon. She inspected her reflection in the fitting-room mirrors, to be assured that her choice of colors was right. She now looked a pretty girl, and there were admiring comments from the onlookers to reinforce her confidence in her own taste.
She recklessly bought shoes, and bags and pretty underwear, and skirts and shirts and matching accessories. The exclusive little frock-shop had been her last stop, and she made more purchases. At last, her sensible brown suit was parceled up, and she slipped into the new lavender suit.
She left laden with her morning’s purchases. Her progress back to the flat was slow but satisfactory. The admiration from the turned-heads was sufficient proof of the success of her new image.
By the time she struggled up the steps to the front door with her parcels, her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed. She knew Sonia was going to thoroughly approve of her purchases, especially the dinner dress of crushed rose velvet.
“Sonia,” she called.
Sonia had arrived home the evening before after a week away working. The door opened suddenly as she leaned against it, and she fell against a tall figure.
“Been shopping, Miss Morris?” asked a well-remembered teasing voice.
Peter Darcy took her parcels as she stood and stared at him, unable to suppress the feeling of pleasure that spread through her at the sight of him.
“Have you come to see Sonia?” she asked, knowing it was a stupid question as soon as she had spoken. Of course he would have come to see Sonia!
He nodded agreement, his green eyes inscrutable, and the mouth twisted into a mocking smile. “Sonia and I have a lot to talk about, and I was curious to meet Miss Melissa Morris as herself.”
Melissa blushed, and tried to control her racing pulse. She was suddenly very glad she had shed her dowdy image. “She should be home. She wasn’t intending to go out this morning.”
The Lonely Heart Page 5
