She smiled mirthlessly at her thoughts, then went upstairs with Sandra to help get a room ready since she wouldn't hear of her going back to London that night.
Shortly after they had come down stairs, eight-year-old Marigold and six-year-old Gillie came bursting in. 'I recognised your car on the drive,' Marigold said in a rush, nearly falling over her words, the party she had been to promptly forgotten as she kissed her aunt and wanted to know if she had brought her bridesmaid dress with her.
'Of course I have,' Kathryn told her, forcing a bright smile. 'Though . . . though . . .' She floundered, not knowing how one broke the news to a young child that the wedding she had been so looking forward to being a bridesmaid at was now not going to take place.
'Aunty Kathryn and Uncle Rex have fallen out,' Sandra sped in to assist. 'They've decided not to get married after all.'
'Oh, bloomin' heck,' said Marigold, her disappointment echoed by shy little Gillie.
'But you can still have your dresses,' Kathryn put in quickly, seeing Gillie's face starting to crumple—and was glad, for all Sandra spoilt them dreadfully, that she instinctively understood she never wanted to see the dresses
again and was quite firm with her daughters when she told them they could try the dresses on some other time.
Sandra tried when the girls had been put to bed to turn Kathryn's mind on to practical channels, telling her if she didn't want to be stuck with a massive bill from the caterers men she ought to get down to thinking about cancelling them without delay.
As she promised to write to them in the morning, the money she stood to lose was neither here nor there in her present frame of mind, Kathryn began to realise then that she had a whole lot of cancelling to think about. All she had cancelled so far was her engagement, and she hadn't had to think about that—it had been automatic.
In bed that night she tried to think along the practical lines Sandra had suggested. There were friends invited to the wedding to contact, presents to be returned. But try as she might to keep her mind on such matters, again and again the vision that had met her eyes that afternoon came back to haunt her.
How could Rex have deceived her so? How could he have taken Maxine Vernon to his bed?—Not just that one time either, if Maxine was to .be believed, and with the evidence she had she saw no reason not to believe her. Though as far as she was concerned, once was more than enough.
To think, she thought dully, she had loved such a man— had loved him so that it had only been her strong sense of everything needing to be so right that had prevented her from sharing that same bed with him before the ceremony. Emotion seared her for the first time at the thought that she might well have committed herself to him only to find out too late that he wasn't to be trusted. Oh how glad she was she hadn't given in. If Rex couldn't wait those few months until the day they exchanged their vows, then he just wasn't the husband she had set her heart on having.
By the time she got up the next morning, the deep shadows under her eyes showed the terrible night she had spent. Victor Smith, her brother-inlaw had been whisked briefly into the kitchen last night by Sandra and acquainted with the details and had then disappeared to his local. Though since there was no love lost between him and Kathryn, she on one occasion having the need to put him right when his wandering eye had wandered in her direction, she expected and got little sympathy from him. He was in the sitting room, thirty-two and already running to seed, when she went down.
'Good morning,' she said, giving him a brief glance and suffering the way his eyes went over her. It was the first chance he had had to try and needle her, and she wasn't at all surprised at the remark:
'So he slipped your noose, did he?'
'The choice in breaking our engagement was mine,' she said coldly, turning ready to go looking for Sandra.
'Had you let the poor bloke have what he wanted from you there'd have been no need for him to take his secretary between the sheets,' he jibed before she could escape, her hand already on the door handle. 'You're a hard-hearted bitch, Kathryn,' he sneered, determined to get a rise out of her.
She let her hand fall and turned to face him. She had never been afraid of him, and if there was any truth in what he said about Rex taking his secretary to bed in compensation for her, then Rex still wasn't the man she wanted to marry. But as for her being hard-hearted, she just couldn't believe that was true.
'No, you're wrong there,' she said, giving him a disdainful look so he would know he could count himself included. 'I'm not hard-hearted—just very particular.'
'But not so particular it stopped you from coming running for shelter under my roof,' Victor retorted, stung by her
disdain. 'You know where to come when you need a shoulder to cry on.'
Where else should she go but to her sister? she wondered, eying to keep her temper since he had so rudely reminded her she was a guest in his house.
'Since Sandra has cried on my shoulder a good many times over you, I consider that's only fair, don't you?'
She didn't wait for any answer he had to that, but went in search of Sandra. She found her in the kitchen and felt a spasm of loving for her that after one look at her face her sister bit back the question she had clearly been going to ask on how had she slept, and instead explained, without knowing it, the reason for the acid she had just received from her husband.
'Vic's taking the girls into town this morning. I thought it would give you a chance to do any telephoning you might want to do in private.'
'There's no need for them to disappear on my account,' Kathryn said quickly, pangs of guilt smiting her that her visit was upsetting the whole household.
'He'll enjoy taking them out,' Sandra remarked from behind her rose-coloured lenses, not seeing as Kathryn did that Vic had probably planned to fry other fish that morning.
They didn't get a chance to discuss anything from then on as Gillie came in wanting help with her shoes. But it was quiet in the little detached house when they had waved them down the drive, and it was Sandra's practicality in problems that weren't directly her own that had her urging Kathryn to get started on what had to be done.
'People have got to be told before next Saturday,' she began. 'It'll be just too awful if. . .' Her sensitivity wouldn't let her finish.
'If they turned up at the church to find no bride or groom,' Kathryn made herself finish it for her. And though
she jibbed at calling any of her friends on the telephone she was soon at work with the aid of Sandra's writing paper, finding that after the first three letters her task, though no more agreeable, became easier.
'What about Rex's family?' Sandra asked, seeing that all the envelopes so far were addressed to Kathryn's own friends and one aunt and uncle they rarely saw, but who had accepted an invitation. 'Aren't they coming from all over?'
'His brother Nate is coming from America with his cousin Adrian,' Kathryn said without much interest. 'And there's another cousin, Paul, who manages the French side of things. But none of them will have a wasted journey,' She broke off to explain briefly about the board meeting that was to be held on Monday to select a new chairman, glad to have a break from her letter writing. 'Rex,' she said, still feeling too iced up inside to feel any pain on saying his name, thinks Nate stands a chance of getting it, but with him making such a success of the American end, I can't see him wanting to give that up. And anyway, since Adrian is George's son I think it's more likely to go to him. Whatever happens they'll keep it in the family.'
'They're that close?'
'And how! When I first went to work there six months ago some optimistic company tried their hand at a takeover—talk about closing of ranks—they didn't stand a chance!' And going back to the cancelled wedding that wouldn't stray far from her mind, 'I'll let Rex tell his family. They'll all be there at the meeting on Monday anyway.' An unaccustomed cynicism entered her heart. 'It can come under the heading of "any other business".'
'Oh, love, don't be bitter,' Sandra cried. I know you've go
t cause, but don't let what's happened spoil you. Apart from this particular bee in your bonnet about fidelity you've always been more than generous about other people's shortcomings.'
Not wanting to see Sandra upset, Kathryn squeezed her sister's hand, forcing a smile as she promised, 'I won't.' And she was about to get down to some more letter writing when from the look on Sandra's face something had just occurred to her.
'You say the Kingersbys are very close,' she brought out slowly.
'They don't call them the Magnificent Seven for nothing,' Kathryn agreed. 'I told you how no outsider would stand a chance once they gang together. Offend one and you offend them all...'
'Oh, love, what about your job?'
'My job? For a second or two Kathryn didn't get her meaning. She hadn't yet got around to thinking about work. But following her sister's trend ... 'I see what you mean,' she said thoughtfully.
"They won't sack you, will they?' And quickly, 'Oh, they wouldn't do that, would they? You've worked so hard and must be exceptionally good at your work to have got to be the chairman's secretary at only twenty-four. It would be wicked to sack you when it wasn't your fault.'
Kathryn's pensive brown eyes showed she didn't know whether breaking her engagement to the Marketing Manager of Kingersby International constituted grounds for them dismissing her or not—or even if she still wanted to work for them. The way she felt now she could bump into Rex in the building and walk straight by him without feeling a thing. But would that last?
She had at George Kingersby's request decided to stay on at the office after her marriage. She could remember now the thrill she had felt at the way he had said, 'Don't desert the office, Kathryn. It's about time we had a female Kingersby on the inside', but with the Kingersby blood affronted that she had broken off her engagement, would George still want her to stay with the firm?
'I don't know if they'll sack me or not,' she answered Sandra's question belatedly. 'To tell you the truth, I'm not sure I want to work there any more anyway.' The ice in her started to chip as her hands left her short dark hair to make a distracted movement. 'I'm just—not sure of anything any more.'
'What you need is a drink,' said Sandra bracingly. 'Shall we be a couple of devils and have a go at the cooking sherry?'
'Why not?' she answered, and getting on top of her moment of weakness, 'And after that I really will have the courage to ring my landlady and beg her to renew my tenancy.'
Saturday eventually passed. So too did Sunday. But when Kathryn began to make noises about going back to London she found that Sandra wouldn't hear of her going back to her empty flat that night. And chiefly because she had a suspicion that once back in her own surroundings then she would crack up, she was glad to fall in with her sister's urging that she stay another night.
It was as she was leaving the next morning, Sandra still in her dressing gown because it was so early having come out on to the drive to see her off, that Sandra revealed:
'I had thought Rex might at least have telephoned to see if you were with us this weekend.'
'It wouldn't have done him any good,' Kathryn said quietly, having hugged her and thanked her for being such a help that weekend, and putting her car into gear. 'As far as I'm concerned, Rex Kingersby has ceased to exist.'
CHAPTER TWO
Kathryn let herself into the flat she had left so joyously on Friday. She looked around the sitting room, devoid now of those little touches that had made it home, and thought that presently she would go down to her car and collect the cardboard box of ornaments and knick-knacks that had gone to make that particular room look lived-in.
It was a blessing, she thought as she wandered despondently into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee, that her landlady had been taking her time selecting the next tenant. For Mrs Evans had said over the phone that she hadn't received all the references she had written for in respect of the future tenant and had not as yet re-let her flat.
So she still had a roof over her head, she mused, recalling though Mrs Evans had grumbled on a bft at the trouble she had put her to, she had agreed to let her rescind her notice.
She tried to think if there was anything else she had to do in cancelling the arrangements, but between them she and Sandra seemed to have thought of everything. Dear Sandra, she'd been a pillar of strength this weekend.
Still trying to think practically the way her sister had steered her, Kathryn recalled how she had decided on the drive from Reading that she just couldn't go into the office today. Facing all those Kingersbys was beyond her. But the professionalism with which she tackled her work demanded that she at least ring through to George Kingersby and tell him she wouldn't be in.
The kettle boiled, but she turned it off, not sure she wanted to sit over a solitary cup of coffee that would give
her too much time to think, and went instead to sit near her phone in the sitting room, her mind busy while waiting for business to start that day in considering what she was going to say to George.
Nine o'clock arrived, and with it came a feeling of sickness as she wondered what story Rex had concocted, a certainty grown in her that he would not have given his uncle the true reason for her handing him back his ring. All the Kingersbys were proud, and Rex was no exception. He wouldn't, she knew then with a definite sureness, want any one of them knowing what he had been up to.
With nausea welling up inside at the thought that she might be called on to give her side of it, Kathryn knew two things as she quelled the feeling of wanting to be sick. One was that none of the Kingersby clan would believe her, and two, that her own personal pride would never have her breathing a word of that sordid scene to anyone outside her own family.
She dialled the Kingersby International number, half of her of the opinion that George had already delegated someone else to take notes at the board meeting scheduled for eleven o'clock.
'Mr George Kingersby, please—Kathryn Randle,' she told the answering switchboard operator, and tilted her chin in case the first words she heard from her boss were that she could come and clear out her desk.
'Kathryn! Kathryn, where are you?'
There was none of the hostility she had half been ready for in George Kingersby's voice. But she held on to her pride, fairly certain that there would be before this call was finished. For if he didn't know yet that there wasn't to be any wedding on Saturday, then as she saw it, she was going to have to be the one to inform him of that fact.
'I'm at my flat,' she answered. 'I've just returned after spending the weekend .. .'
'Well thank God you're back,' he cut in and went on, to her surprise, 'We've been trying to contact you since Friday evening, but apart from your saying something about going to Reading, you could have been in Timbuktu for all the success we've had.'
'You've been trying to contact me?' Surely the Kingersbys weren't ganging up to try and make her change her mind!
'My dear ...' Suddenly George's voice had taken on a gentle note. 'Have you heard yet about Rex?'
'Rex?' A premonition of some sort of disaster prickled along her spine. Pride departed as in a low whisper she managed, 'I haven't seen Rex since Friday. We ...'
'I know that. Haven't we been in touch with everyone you said you were going to see, left messages all over the place...' He broke off as though thinking this was getting them nowehere. 'Kathryn, my dear, I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell you—but Rex has had a very serious motor accident.'
For a moment she was robbed of speech. Shocked by what she had heard, she was shaken too that even hearing such news had not managed to fracture the ice that encased her heart. Oh, she felt sorrow that he had been hurt, but shatteringly it didn't go deeper than it would have done had she heard the same news about any one of a dozen of her acquaintances.
'Are you still there, Kathryn?'
'Yes—yes, I'm still here.'
'I know this must be a dreadful shock for you, but...'
'How badly is he hurt?' she asked quickly, and as a
dreadful thought struck, for although she felt nothing for him at that moment she didn't want that he should be... 'He's not—dead, is he?
'No, no,' she was assured. And George went on to tell her that Rex had somehow managed to turn bis car over, no
other car being involved, which left them to think he had swerved to avoid some bird or animal in the road. The end result was that he had multiple injuries, that it had been touch and go over the weekend and that in the few occasional moments of consciousness, he had been calling for her.
'H-have you heard how he is this morning?' Kathryn asked, guilt she hadn't earned swamping her that he might still be at death's door and she hadn't been around to give him that last-minute comfort.
'I rang the hospital before I left home,' George told her, mentioning the name of the hospital where Rex had been taken. 'They tell me that at last he's beginning to show signs of life. It's going to be a long job, Kathryn, but I'm sure he's going to be all right.'
She heard the sympathy in his voice for her, and knew it as a wasted emotion on her behalf. But she just could not now, in the light of what he had just told her, explain to him that she was no longer engaged to his nephew.
'Would you mind if I don't come into work today?' she asked.
'Of course not, my dear. I wouldn't expect you to. You'll be wanting to get round to the hospital as soon as I've put this phone down.'
Perhaps it was as well George Kingersby didn't stay talking after that. For as she put down her phone, Kathryn knew the greatest reluctance to go anywhere near the hospital.
Sandra's husband had called her a hard-hearted bitch. But she knew she wasn't. She was not hard-hearted enough, if the truth was known. And that was the reason she didn't want to go anywhere near that hospital. For she knew, even frozen up inside as she felt about Rex, that if she went to the hospital, saw his broken body, his needing her, from what George had said, then she could very clearly see that she would be in danger of forgetting her own feelings and
would be wearing his ring again for no matter how many weary long months it took him to recover. Months when that other side of her would loathe, detest every moment that ring was on her finger.
The Other Brother Page 2
