A Bid for Love & A Chance of Happiness

by J. B. Sherrard

  "Can I give you a lift anywhere?" he enquired as they left the hotel.

  "No, thanks. I'm staying in this part of town for a little while."

  "Well, I'll be in touch. Ciao for now!" With which he beetled off down Brook Street.

  Pippa wondered if the best thing to do was to forget all about their tea party. Perhaps she had been foolish to meet him again. Looking at Fabian Naughton objectively, she saw he could only cause problems in her professional life, but on a personal level she enjoyed being with him immensely. They had a rapport—it was as simple as that. They spoke the same language. And how often did one meet someone like that?

  For the next couple of days she thought about little else. To see Fabian Naughton again or not to see Fabian Naughton again, that was the question. She repeatedly weighed the pros and cons and on each occasion came out with a different conclusion. The issue wasn't made any easier with the arrival two days later of a despatch rider with a small package for Pippa. Instinctively, she knew she should open it in private, but both Diana and Hubert were curious to see its contents, so she carefully unwrapped it in front of them both.

  "Looks familiar!" Hubert said sourly as Pippa unwrapped the heart-shaped box she had wanted to buy at Aspley.

  "It's gorgeous!" said Diana, unaware of its significance. "Oh, look! There's a note." And before Pippa could stop her she was reading it aloud. "In case you'd forgotten. See you soon? F.' "

  Hubert disappeared into his office, his displeasure quite apparent. Diana, suddenly realising the significance of the parcel, blushed. "Pippa! I'm sorry. I didn't think for a moment…"

  "It doesn't matter," said Pippa bravely.

  "What did he send it here for?"

  "Probably because he wanted Hubert to see it," Pippa said, deciding that there was method in Fabian's indiscretion.

  "Well, he's obviously interested," Diana observed.

  "Yes." And Pippa decided there was some compensation in that.

  The surprise gift didn't make her decision to go to the gala any easier, nor was she certain how to respond. She didn't want to phone him because he would press her for an answer, so she decided the best thing was to write him a short note of thanks which she sent to his gallery, assuring him she would be in touch in the next few days. She was pleased, for the ball was now fairly and squarely in her court.

  Hubert said nothing directly to Pippa about it but she sensed a slight tension when she was in his company, and felt sure it was on the tip of his tongue to say something. When Hubert called her at home that evening, she expected the worst but was in for a pleasant surprise.

  "Pippa, my dear, it's rather short notice, but I wonder if you could possibly do me a favour tomorrow evening. Alex is coming down to London for a few days and he's asked me to get a couple of tickets for 'On Your Toes'. Truth is, I can't stand musicals. How would you like to take my place? I'm sure he'd much prefer to be in your company than mine."

  "That would be lovely," Pippa told him, feeling it was a painless way to ease things between them.

  "Splendid!"

  Alex Whitley was Hubert's whizz-kid godson who descended on London every now and then from Bristol where, two years ago, at the age of thirty, he had been made a director of the British subsidiary of an American engineering group. As well as being a first class engineer, Alex was also an excellent manager, which accounted for his meteoric rise to the top. Modestly, Alex attributed his success more to good fortune than skill and gave the impression of slight bewilderment at it all.

  When she had been about seven, Pippa had had a passionate crush on Alex who had then been sixteen. Her feelings hadn't been reciprocated and, on the rare occasions that she saw him, she recalled her childhood feelings with embarrassment, wondering if he had ever known how she felt. The last time she had seen him had been just after his appointment to the board and he had been as attractive then as he was in his teens, tall with well-cut dark brown hair and gorgeous green eye;,. He was also single, his fiancée having broken their engagement a year before to run off with a ski instructor.

  It would be good to see Alex, not only because he was good company but because he would help put Fabian Naughton in perspective. And Pippa felt that if she was ripe to fall in love she could make life very much easier for herself by falling in love with Alex. She couldn't help wondering whether he had been instructed to sweep her off her feet. Would he come armed with chocolates and flowers, sweet-talking her through the evening? Would they have dinner by candlelight after the show? Would he suddenly recognise that she was an attractive young woman and not a tongue-tied schoolgirl? There were all sorts of exciting possibilities, and Alex seemed equally excited when he called her at the gallery the following morning, arranging to pick her up at a quarter to seven that evening.

  Although he didn't arrive bearing chocolates and flowers, he was the perfect escort in every other way. and looked just as handsome as ever in a double-breasted grey suit, which coincidentally matched his brand new grey car. They both loved On Your Toes' which they both agreed was the most romantic and spectacular blend of ballet and tap-dancing they had ever seen.

  "If only life was like that!" Alex said wistfully over dinner which, to Pippa's amusement, was by candlelight.

  "It would be terribly tiring!" Pippa observed. "I could just about manage to pirouette round the gallery, but if I had to tap-dance all the way to work, I'd be exhausted."

  "Yes, but think about all that job satisfaction!"

  "I've got that already," Pippa remarked.

  "That's nice to hear. I wish I had," Alex mused.

  "I thought you loved your job."

  "It's a love-hate relationship," he explained. "It's the internal politics I can't stand. Sometimes I feel like jacking the whole thing in, to be quite honest, but every time I grumble they offer me more money!"

  "That must be terrible!"

  "It is," he said with mock self-pity. "You've no idea! Mind you, they've offered me a position in New York and it's very tempting. I just don't know whether to go or whether to do something entirely different."

  "Like take over Hubert's business?" For Pippa knew that that was Hubert's great desire.

  "I know he'd like me to run it but I don't know the first thing about antiques. He seems to think that isn't terribly important, so long as I surround myself with good staff and allow myself to be guided by him for the first few years. But I'm not so sure it's such a good idea, although I can see its advantages. Suppose he suddenly decided to pack up everything and go off to live in the South of France. I'd be in a real pickle. And he's no chicken, after all."

  "I think he's quite fit."

  "All the same, it's a hell of a risk. I mean, I know how to run a business but I could do with a bit of expertise in antiques. I don't think he's ever forgiven me for allowing Katherine to go off with the abominable snowman. Hubert thought she would be the perfect wife because she had done a Fine Arts course. He had it all worked out, you know," he said as the waiter arrived to flame their scrumptious crepes Suzettes.

  "When do you have to decide on the New York job?" Pippa asked a few minutes later.

  "Pretty soon. That's why I've come up to London for a few days. I thought a little distance would help. And anyway, Hubert's very anxious to sort out his retirement."

  "I know."

  After dinner, they decided to take a drive down to Waterloo Bridge, where they admired the majestic panorama with St. Paul's to the east, Big Ben to the west and the River Thames flowing beneath them.

  "This sums up London for me," Alex said thoughtfully. "I'd miss it if I went to New York. Mind you, I miss it in Bristol, but at least it's accessible. I remember seeing this for the first time on my seventh birthday. That's almost exactly a quarter of a century ago—or will be in three weeks' time. If I remember correctly, isn't your birthday fairly soon, too?"

  "You've got a good memory! It's on the seventh."

  "I thought so. We're both born under Pisces, the fish—but I don't think we
should go swimming tonight."

  "Not on a full stomach!" Pippa observed lightly and then noticed the time on Big Ben. "Actually, I really ought to be getting back, otherwise I'll never get up in the morning, and I don't want to get on the wrong side of your Godfather."

  "Heaven forbid!" Alex agreed, and then drove Pippa home.

  "Thanks for a lovely evening," she said, as he drew up outside the flat.

  "My pleasure. I've enjoyed it, too. Let's repeat the pleasure in the not too distant future." Alex saw her to the front door, gave her a fraternal kiss on the cheek and then hurried back to his car.

  Although it was well past midnight, Pippa was far too wide-awake to sleep. She couldn't stop thinking about Alex and Fabian. They were two very attractive and very eligible men. But while charming in every respect—and probably much more suitable—Alex simply didn't excite her as much as Fabian. Perhaps if she had never met Fabian, Alex would have seemed ideal, but Pippa knew it was too late. And with that realisation she fell asleep.

  In the morning, Hubert greeted her with exceptional warmth and asked her how she'd enjoyed the show.

  "It was super."

  "I'd heard it was good. Perhaps I'll try to see it after all," Hubert said, with considerable enthusiasm for someone who claimed to loathe musicals. "I'm so pleased. And how did you find Alex?"

  "Fine. He was on great form. We had a lovely dinner."

  Hubert beamed. "I thought you'd have a good time," he said knowingly.

  And suddenly Pippa realised that, craftily, Hubert had been trying to pair them off all along. Her encounter with Fabian Naughton must have really worried him. But if Hubert thought that was the end of the matter, he was very much mistaken because Pippa knew she had an extremely important phone call to make.

  Chapter Five

  Pippa knew she had to see Fabian again. Much as she had enjoyed her evening with Alex, she realised that it had lacked something indefinable which her time with Fabian had not. And now that she had made up her mind, she felt he ought to be the first to know. On no account could she risk calling him from work and, since she didn't have his home number, she waited till her lunch hour and phoned him at his gallery from a public call-box at Knightsbridge station.

  "So what's the verdict?" he asked.

  "I'd love to come to the gala," Pippa said.

  "Well, well, well! I'm delighted." And it was clear from his tone that he was somewhat surprised, too. "Would it be all right if we ate afterwards?" he asked.

  "That's fine with me."

  "Splendid! I'll come and collect you about seven, then."

  "I look forward to it." And they said goodbye.

  "Surprise! Surprise!" Karen said when Pippa told her that evening. "I knew you'd go."

  "Well, I didn't know," Pippa protested.

  "I bet you enjoy yourself, too. What are you going to wear?"

  "It's evening dress, so I haven't much choice. I can wear my blue velvet skirt or my blue velvet skirt."

  "Well, it's lovely."

  "And I could wear Grandma's mink jacket!" Pippa said suddenly, pleased at the opportunity to wear the beautiful jacket her grandmother had bequeathed her.

  Though over a week away, the evening was already beginning to take shape in her mind and she spent an inordinate amount of her waking day thinking about it. It was not simply the prospect of the gala that preoccupied her, nor was it the fact that she was going out with a man she found exasperatingly attractive. The thing that was gnawing at her was the secrecy of the expedition. She already felt sly for not having told Hubert that she had had tea with Fabian after Sotheby's, but she persuaded herself that her private life had nothing to do with him or anyone else. In addition, she had slight pangs of guilt about Diana, for generally they shared confidences, and it seemed a little underhand to keep it from her. But Pippa knew Diana's discretion could not always be relied upon—especially after a couple of drinks.

  During the next week Pippa deliberately kept a low profile at the shop. She invented non-existent lunch dates and ended up wandering round the irresistible Knightsbridge boutiques buying, amongst other things, a gorgeous silk blouse with an exotic lapis lazuli print for her evening dress. To avoid joining Diana for drinks after work, she kept on dreaming up excuses to leave punctually each day.

  "Anyone would think you were having a secret affair or something," Diana observed perceptively on Wednesday afternoon.

  "I'm going to classes tomorrow. What about Friday night? I'm free then," Pippa suggested, anxious to divert the conversation.

  "I can't. I'm going down to Salisbury for the weekend. Ghastly family christening," Diana drawled.

  "Well, let's go out on Monday and you can tell me all about it." Pippa wondered if she sounded as stilted and unnatural as she felt.

  "Monday it is. And you can tell me what you've been up to. I'm sure something's going on."

  Pippa wasn't sure whether to make some sort of feeble protest or to tell Diana exactly what was happening but, in fact, she was saved by the telephone which rang before she could say anything. From the sound of the conversation, it was Diana's sister, talking about the christening, so Pippa waved goodbye and left the room. For the rest of the afternoon she managed to keep out of Diana's way by checking stock and doing her nails in the basement store room where no one ever went.

  "I'll be pleased when all this subterfuge is over," Pippa told Karen after Italian classes on Thursday.

  "You don't think Hubert has any idea you're going out with Fabian, do you?"

  "I think Diana's a bit suspicious, but I haven't breathed a word to anyone except you and Mark."

  "Well, your secret's safe with us!"

  "I hope so!"

  But the postcard of the Clifton Suspension Bridge which Pippa received from Alex on Friday made her wonder whether Diana had alerted Hubert to her suspicions. And so did Alex's phone call on Friday evening.

  "Just thought I'd see how you are," Alex said sociably, and they chatted inconsequentially for a few minutes. "I still haven't made up my mind what to do. Both Hubert's offer and the American job are very attractive. I'm tempted to toss a coin and let fate decide for me. The thing is I don't think I've got the guts!"

  "You could always toss the coin and ignore it, if you don't like the decision."

  "I tried that but I still wasn't sure!" Alex told her. "Got anything lined up for the weekend?" Was he being nosy or was he simply on the verge of proffering an invitation?

  "I'm going to a party tomorrow night and I'm out on Sunday as well," Pippa said quite truthfully.

  "Oh!" There was a slight note of disappointment in his voice. "Well, have a lovely time. I'll speak to you soon."

  Pippa spent an age preparing herself on Sunday afternoon, and she thought Fabian Naughton certainly couldn't complain about her appearance. The new blouse was stunning and the mink jacket added a touch of glamour she rather liked. She wondered whether she ought to go to galas more often! When Fabian arrived, he agreed that she looked wonderful and Pippa had to concede that he, too, looked rather swish in his white dinner jacket, although his bow-tie was a little askew.

  "Chin up and don't move," she said and adjusted it.

  "I'm glad you did that here. People might think we're in love."

  "Come on, let's go!" Pippa said, ignoring him but making a mental note not to interfere with his appearance again.

  He helped her into the red Porsche but, she noticed, he hesitated for a moment before opening his own door. He seemed to be looking up the street as if he expected to see somebody or something that wasn't there. He appeared slightly subdued as he turned the ignition on.

  "Let's get the hell out of here," he said, sounding not unlike John Wayne, and they roared off down the road.

  En route, he told her all about the gala which he had helped to organise. "I'm on the joint committee," he explained. "You see, it's for quite a few charities—smallish ones that couldn't do this sort of thing on their own—like a home for battered wives, a da
y centre for the handicapped in North London, a drug addicts rehabilitation centre, an autistic children's group and a couple of others."

  "It sounds like a marvellous idea. How much do you think it'll raise?"

  "Maybe thirty thousand pounds if we've sold every seat in the house. It means each of these groups gets four or five thousand which can make all the difference. We've been very lucky really. The theatre management have given us the place free and the staff aren't charging—nor are the artists. The number of people who are prepared to help is absolutely astonishing."

  "Are you connected with one of the charities?"

  "Yes. I'm a governor of a small rehabilitation centre for drug addicts."

  "Are you really?" said Pippa, astonished. "Where is this place?"

  "It's in Hampshire. We've got a doctor and a few nurses and everyone does their best. It's not easy weaning people off these things but we have a fair success rate."

  "I had no idea that you were involved in anything like this."

  "You've got a lot to learn about me, Philippa. I'm full of surprises," he said mysteriously. And Pippa could believe it.

  It was the best-dressed theatre audience Pippa had ever encountered and, as they made their way to their seats in the centre of the dress circle, Fabian was waving to various people he knew. While they were browsing through the souvenir brochure, which was crammed with goodwill advertisements from various companies, a beautiful blonde middle-aged woman in a straight black Chantilly lace dress, with a fishtail pleat at one ankle and an exquisitely cut matching bolero, suddenly tapped Fabian on the shoulder.

  "Hello!" he said brightly and, standing up as he turned to Pippa added, "Philippa this is my mother. Mum—Philippa."

  "How do you do?" said Pippa, slightly taken aback, because he'd never said his parents would be joining them.

  "How do you do? I've heard so much about you," said Mrs. Naughton with a smile, and the two women shook hands just as Fabian's father joined them. The likeness between father and son was striking, though Fabian was a fraction taller. His father's hair had the same curl as his son's but was silver grey, giving him an air of considerable distinction. He shook Pippa firmly by the hand.