Roberta Leigh - Not a Marrying Man

by Roberta Leigh

  'What do you mean by the first company?' Bruno Lyn questioned. This formula's so technical it will take our rivals a year or more to come up with anything like it.'

  'Once you bring it out you'll have the best chemists in the world trying to crack the secret.'

  'We should still be ahead of them for a pretty long time. If I didn't think so I wouldn't agree to spend all this money.'

  'Then you do agree?' said Nevil.

  'Yes.' Bruno looked at Sara. 'Are you happy with our launch date?'

  She nodded. 'It's when the winter clothes start coming into the shops and women start changing their make-up. Everything has been geared for that date. I was on to the factory this morning and as far as they know, there's no hold-up in delivery. They start manufacturing a week from now.'

  'Then that's settled.' Bruno Lyn stood up. 'If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I have another appointment.'

  Nevil and his colleagues left the room and Sara went with them, not surprised when Nevil told the two men to go on without him. He went with Sara to her office and accepted the coffee her secretary brought for them. Sara longed to ask him what he thought of Madame Rosa's nephew, but her own prejudice kept her silent. However, Nevil had no such inhibition and made it clear he had found him a difficult and obstinate client.

  'But he agreed with you in the end,' she pacified.

  'Because he's still feeling his way here. Three months from now, and he'll start to wield the big stick.'

  'He knows the business, though,' she felt obliged to say.

  'From an accountancy side, possibly. But if he's going to start telling me what does and doesn't appeal to women…'

  'He supervised all the Rosalyn advertising in America,' Sara said. 'And our sales increased fantastically.'

  'He's wrong about this lipstick, though. It's an absolute winner.'

  'For what it's costing us, it had better be.' She glanced at her wristwatch. 'I don't want to hurry you, but I've got a press conference in ten minutes.'

  'Are you free for lunch ?' asked Nevil.

  'I'm tied up every day this week.'

  'Dinner, then?'

  'I had dinner with you last night.'

  'I'll pick you up at eight this evening,' was his answer as he went to the door and closed it behind him.

  Despite the fact that she was pressed for time, Sara remained motionless for several moments, thinking over the meeting that had just taken place between Nevil and Bruno Lyn and pondering on the difference between the two men opposite; one tall, thin and fair, the other bulky and broad-shouldered and with hair the colour of coal. In character they were opposite too, for Nevil who seemed so reserved was a far easier person to understand than Bruno Lyn who, for all his charm and sex appeal— albeit he had shown no charm to her—nonetheless remained an enigma.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sara had never been more appreciative of Nevil than she was during the next few weeks for, sensing that Bruno Lyn's advent into her life had disrupted it, he went out of his way to be attentive. Only when he suggested a trip to the country for the third consecutive weekend did she consider it propitious to refuse. Nevil wanted to marry her and if she continued to see so much of him he would have every reason to believe her answer would eventually be yes. Yet she was by no means sure of her feelings: she was sure only that she did not know them.

  'But I told Carol and Jack we'd be down this weekend,' he complained when he pleaded another engagement.

  'Why don't you go without me?'

  'Because I want to be with you. You aren't busy Saturday and Sunday, are you?'

  'Yes,' she lied, finding it a marvellous luxury to contemplate a weekend entirely alone. 'I definitely can't see you.'

  'Is it another man?'

  Unwilling to utter a blatant lie, she said slowly, 'It's Madame Rosa.'

  'You aren't turning down a weekend with me just to see her?'

  His aggrieved tone stiffened Sara's resolve not to go with him. We've practically lived in each other's pockets for the last few weeks. It's time we stopped.'

  'Why? I want to be with you the whole time.'

  He pulled her into his arms and pressed her against his body. His hands were hard as they moved down her spine and heavy as they rested on her hips.

  'I love you, Sara. When are you going to stop playing with me and start playing properly?'

  'I don't know.'

  "Why can't you make up your mind ? We get on well; we have the same interests and the same ambitions. I know we'd be happy together.'

  Hearing him, she found it difficult to be logical about her reasons for not accepting his proposal. How could she explain something she did not understand herself?

  'Don't rush me,' she said aloud, and put her arms around his neck. 'Just kiss me.'

  He did so with a fierceness that bruised her lips. 'If only you'd let me love you properly,' he muttered thickly. 'Sara, please.'

  'No.' She restrained herself from pushing him away, reluctant to hurt his ego. 'I can't. I never have.'

  Then it's time you started.'

  He pressed harder on her lips, forcing them open, and she twisted her head away, his passionate brutality making her forget her reluctance to hurt him.

  'Nevil, don't ! It's late.'

  'Too late to stop now.' His hand came under her chin and forced her to face him.

  'No!' She almost shouted the word, her sophistication proving itself to be the veneer she had always suspected. 'You must go. I mean it.'

  Reluctantly Nevil went to the door, but not until it had closed behind him did she breathe a sigh of relief. Was her reluctance to marry Nevil due only to fear of his lovemaking? But 'only' was a word with deep implications in this context, for many a marriage had foundered on such a rock.

  Frowning, she emptied the ashtray and took the dirty coffee cups into the compact kitchen of the small apartment she rented. If she were truly the sophisticated young woman Bruno Lyn believed her to be, she would have been living with Nevil long ago. Her frown deepened. How few people would believe her to be a virgin! In this day it was the exception rather than the rule. Yet it was not prudishness that had kept her chaste but an inability to love lightly. Intense about her work, she was equally intense about her emotions and knew that when she did fall in love, it would be with total abandon. But a fear of loving unwisely had prevented her from loving at all, and if she went on this way she would end up alone.

  On Friday afternoon Madame Rosa called to know why she had not been to see her for a week.

  'Because every time I see you we talk about the business,' Sara explained.

  'Would you rather I talked about my hobbies?' Madame asked.

  'That would be much better.'

  Then we are back to business again,' Madame cackled. 'When will you learn that Rosalyn is my hobby as well as my life ? You are as bad as Bruno. If only the two of you could be made to see that my work keeps me alive.'

  'Your work also gave you a heart attack.'

  'Rubbish! That could have happened at any time. Come and stay with me for the weekend—or are you seeing that fancy young man of yours?'

  The description of Nevil made Sara smile. Madame Rosa had always found his deference irritating and could not understand why he was not as blunt to her as she was to him. Yet had he been he would not have lasted on the account a month. The only people who could answer back were the handful with whom she had a total working and personal relationship. 'Which numbers me,' Sara thought, 'and I must be grateful for it, for Rosalyn's my life too, and without Madame's help I wouldn't be in the company.' But even gratitude could not persuade her that she would enjoy a weekend in the company of Madame and her assertive nephew.

  'I'll be by myself,' Madame said in as pathetic a voice as she could muster. 'Bruno's going abroad and if I have to be with Maria and the nurse for the whole weekend, I'll get dressed and go out.'

  'I'll come and stay with you,' Sara said immediately. 'But you know that blackmail is the most heinous of cri
mes.'

  'I am a heinous woman,' Madame chuckled. 'I will expect you to lunch.'

  At noon on Saturday Sara entered the luxurious apartment and marvelled at how easily one could take luxury for granted. Now it was her mother's home in Clapham that felt alien to her; the busy shop as strange as if she had never helped in the running of it. Even with Joan she was finding it difficult to maintain a rapport, finding her sister's horizon limited by an amiable husband and rows of nappies. When she herself was married perhaps the rapport would return. Meanwhile the scented atmosphere of the Rosalyn showrooms was the only air she cared to breathe and the sharp questioning mind of Madame Rosa the only one capable of keeping her alert.

  To her surprise Madame was fully dressed and sitting in the lounge when she came in, her dumpy body encased in lemon brocade, her squat neck festooned with ropes of rubies and pearls.

  'Dr Kovaks gave me permission to get up,' she said, forestalling Sara's comment, 'so take the scowl off your face.' Black eyes surveyed her. 'You look tired. Has Bruno been working you too hard?'

  'I haven't seen him this week. He's been reorganising the sales-force.'

  'How is it going? He refuses to talk to me about it.'

  'So do I. Read any good books lately ?'

  But over lunch—which was served to them on individual trolleys to save Madame the effort of walking to the dining-room—Sara relented and told the woman of the many changes that had been made at the salon and the factory. Much as she disliked Bruno Lyn she agreed with everything he was doing and was surprised that Madame had not done them herself a long time ago. But then Rosalyn was Madame's child and as such she did not see its faults.

  'I am glad you like the changes Bruno has made,' Madame said thoughtfully. 'I had visions of you two coming to blows.'

  Sara concentrated on the hothouse peach she was peeling and forbore to say how nearly that vision had come to pass.

  'You know he's staying here indefinitely?' Madame said.

  At this remark Sara did look up and nod, even though she hated being a part of Bruno Lyn's lie.

  'In a way my heart attack was a good thing,' Madame continued. 'It puts the company into the right perspective for me. Left to myself I would never have pruned away the dead wood. But Bruno has no such inhibitions, nor is he afraid to delegate. He realises that occasionally one has to accept second best.'

  'He also realises it's the best way of making sure one doesn't die of a heart attack.'

  'You need never tell Bruno to relax,' Madame grunted. 'Sometimes he displays too much sense in that direction. Since he's been here the phone hasn't stopped ringing. Women call him from New York and California, from Rome and Tokyo. It's incredible.'

  'He is an eligible bachelor,' Sara commented.

  'Good-looking, eh?' Madame thrust her face forward. 'You like him?'

  'I don't know him on a personal basis.'

  'But what you know, you like?'

  'Of course,' Sara lied. 'He's charming.'

  'Then you don't like him! Handsome, domineering, perceptive, passionate—you can say all that about him, but you can't call my Bruno charming. He is too much like me!'

  'You have a great deal of charm,' Sara said gently, and knew how truthful she was being. 'If you didn't have charm no one would be able to put up with you!'

  Madame's squat little neck lifted and she cackled appreciatively. 'I am glad you are here with me, Sara. Give me your hand and help me up. I am going to my room to lie down. Play some music for yourself, or go for a walk. I won't be up again until after tea.'

  'I'll find plenty to occupy me,' Sara smiled. 'I'll probably go for a walk while the weather still holds.'

  'Spring,' sighed Madame Rosa. 'A couple of months ago I never thought I would live to see it.'

  Sara was startled. This was the first indication Madame had given of her fear, but she knew better than to comment on it and matched her steps to the slow, arthritic ones as they crossed the hall to the bedroom.

  Later, as she walked in the park, her feet sinking into the sprung turf, she knew an inexplicable urge to leave Rosalyn and find something else to do. The glamorous atmosphere she had loved so dearly for the past six years seemed suddenly to be stifling her. She paused and drew in a lungful of air, knowing it was Bruno Lyn who was overpowering and that she might not be able to keep her emotions under control for the six months he intended to remain here. Sooner or later the explosion Madame feared would come to pass. Even thinking of him set her anger simmering. Yet what reason could she give Madame if she left, and what other satisfying job could she find ?

  Immersed in her thoughts, she stayed out longer than she had intended and her skin was glowing when she finally let herself into the penthouse. The air was heavy with the scent of the exotic flowers Madame favoured and which filled every room, and she paused to look at a magnificent bowl of yellow tea roses before going to her bedroom and taking off her outdoor things. She was wearing a jumper and skirt and debated whether or not to change into something more relaxing for the rest of the evening. Before finally making up her mind she decided to make herself a cup of tea. Though Madame employed a large domestic staff she disliked having them around her and apart from Maria, who remained constantly in attendance, everyone went to their own quarters when their work was done. There were five people at the moment in some distant part of the penthouse, and Sara was riled at the thought of such wasted manpower.

  Busy with her thoughts, she went to the kitchen and was halfway through the door before she saw Bruno Lyn standing helplessly in the centre of the room. His surprise at seeing her equalled her own and for a few seconds they stared at one another. As always he was the first to recover his composure.

  'You wouldn't happen to know where the coffee percolator is?' he asked.

  'No. But I'm sure I can find it.' A search in several cupboards produced an electric one as well as an electric grinder. 'Do you want a cup?' she asked.

  'That was the general idea.'

  As she went to plug it in he reached for the cord. 'You needn't bother. I can manage on my own.'

  'It's no bother, Mr Lyn. I was going to make myself a cup anyway.'

  'And something to eat?' he enquired with interest.

  The nervousness his presence had aroused evaporated at his words. 'Are you hungry ?'

  'I'm starving! I haven't eaten since breakfast.'

  Then I imagine food is a more urgent requirement for you than coffee?'

  He nodded and the movement made her notice his hair which, untouched by hair cream, had a soft, lustrous look to it. He must have got up early, for a faint blue shadow lay along the line of his jaw. Sara was curious to know where he had come from and why he had not eaten, but she refrained from asking him. Going over to the wall, she pressed the bell, conscious of him watching her every movement.

  Before the silence between them could become strained, a maid came in. Her face showed pleasure as she saw the man and he greeted her with a smile.

  'I am back earlier than I had thought. Erica.'

  'Mr Lyn wishes to have something to eat,' Sara interposed. 'I suggest you tell the cook.'

  'Very good, miss.' The girl looked at the man again. 'Is there anything special you require, sir?'

  'Bread and a hunk of cheese,' he said shortly. 'And some pickles if you have any.' He strode to the door. 'I may as well have it in my bedroom. I want a bath and a rest.' The look he gave Sara was distinctly cold and was affirmed by the abrupt way he closed the door behind him.

  Sara switched on the percolator. She knew full well why he was annoyed. He had expected her to rush to make him something to eat and had been put out when she had delegated the responsibility. The percolator bubbled and she poured out a cup of coffee and added cream. How annoyed he had been when she had rung for the maid! Recollecting the look on his face, she smiled. It served him right. He had called her a sophisticated career woman and had made it clear she possessed none of the womanly attributes he admired. Well, far be it for her to
disillusion him by showing him she was an excellent cook.

  She carried her cup into the lounge. With Bruno Lyn safely in his room she had no need to sit in her own, and she had esconced herself in an armchair when it dawned on her that she might be faced with the prospect of his company that evening. Had she know he was returning tonight she would never have agreed to come here. She was mulling over the unpleasant prospect when Madame Rosa came in.

  There you are, Sara. Did you know Bruno was home?'

  'Yes.'

  'I didn't expect him back until tomorrow night, but he finished his business in Rome and decided to return and keep me company.' There was a throaty chuckle. 'He didn't realise I had managed to persuade you to do the same.'

  'You won't be needing me now your nephew is back.'

  'Of course I will.' Black eyes bored into her. 'Don't you like being here, Sara? Do you only come because you think it's politic to do so?'

  Sara was aghast that Madame should think such a thing. 'No pay cheque, however large, could buy my spare time. I enjoy being with you, Madame, but I—I thought I might be in the way.'

  'I will enjoy seeing you and Bruno cross swords. You are aware of each other and it makes for interesting conversation.' The wide mouth parted in a grimace of pleasure. 'Which one of you is the matador?'

  'Well, I'm no bull,' Sara said with amusement, 'though I can't see myself as a matador either. I doubt if any woman can score any points off Mr Lyn.'

  That's because he was brought up in a household of women. When that happens, the man either becomes henpecked or aggressive.' The mouth pursed up. 'And no one can call my Bruno henpecked. Sometimes he goes too far in the opposite direction. If he could fall in love he would realise that domination works both ways.'

  'Does it?' queried Sara.

  'If the woman loves as deeply as the man, she gives far more of herself. She tries to dominate because she is afraid.'

  'Have you said this to Mr Lyn?'

  'He wouldn't believe me. But when he finally succumbs he will understand for himself.' The black eyes glittered. 'My Bruno will be so jealous… so jealous.'