Rachel Lindsay - An Affair To Forget

by Rachel Lindsay

  Another turn of a key brought them out into a cul-de-sac, that was almost filled by a black limousine.

  "Your chariot awaits," Nicky grinned, and pushed her unceremoniously in.

  "Why didn't you use this exit the other night?" she asked, remembering how she had nearly been crushed to death when he had emerged from the stage door.

  "It isn't good to hide from your fans all the time. I only do it when it's strictly necessary."

  She felt a momentary depression and wondered whether she were the reason he felt it necessary to avoid his fans this evening. But to think this way would spoil her evening, and since this might be her last one with him—suddenly she saw his asking her to London as his way of saying goodbye—she vowed to make the most of it.

  The Candlelight Club was everything she had imagined: large yet intimate, with subdued lighting from gas tapers and music coming from a small combo. Waiters hovered discreetly round them as the maitre d'hotel led the way to a table in an alcove.

  "I ordered the meal in advance," Nicky explained. "I want this to be an evening you'll remember."

  As if she would ever forget it, Valerie thought, dancing dreamily in Nicky's arms as they relaxed between one mouth-watering course and the next.

  As time sped by, she realized he was making a conscious effort to entertain her, telling her about his life before he became a celebrity, recounting incidents that had occurred during his rise to fame. All the anecdotes were amusing and she wished he felt close enough to her to tell her of the hard times he must have had: the years of singing in the Northern clubs; of doing one-night stands up and down the country; years which he glossed over lightly. In spite of all she had read about him and all he was telling her own, there was still another side to Nicky, a part of him which he refused to give away.

  "Tell me the rest of it," she said softly. "I'm sure it hasn't all been as easy as you make out."

  "It wasn't difficult," he said at once. "Even when I was poor, I had fun."

  "What about your life before you started singing?"

  "I had no life then." He signaled a waiter and a magnum of champagne was wheeled to the table, forestalling anything else she might have said.

  Valerie raised her eyebrows. "We're not supposed to drink all that, are we?"

  "Why not? This is a celebration."

  "Of what?"

  "Wait and see."

  Golden liquid bubbled and Nicky raised his glass high. His shirt cuff was pulled back and she noticed the dark hairs on his wrists. His lean face held a brooding expression and his thin, sensitive lips were compressed into a straight line. In the flickering candlelight she noticed a vein throbbing in his temple and had a sudden premonition of fear. Quickly she picked up her own glass.

  "Don't drink yet, Val. I want to ask you something." He bit on his lip, then seemingly forced himself to relax.

  "What's wrong, Nicky? You look strange."

  "I feel strange," he said soberly. "Will you marry me?"

  Her glass tilted and champagne spilled on to the tablecloth. "You can't be serious." she gasped.

  "I was never more serious in my life." He caught her hand. "You've got to marry me, Valerie. You've got to say yes."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The pale light of dawn was edging the horizon when Valerie and Nicky left the club. The chauffeur had long since been dismissed and as Nicky drove through the deserted streets, Valerie saw they were not going in the direction of Bayswater.

  "There's no need to go back yet," Nicky said in answer to her protest. "I'm taking you to the hotel. We can talk better there."

  "But we've been talking all evening!"

  "Not alone." He turned his head and smiled at her and her resistance melted.

  Leaving the car in the courtyard outside the hotel, they went up to the corner suite that was Nicky's home when he was in London.

  As the door closed behind them he pulled her into his arms and pressed his mouth on hers. Valerie's body quivered to his touch and she would have fallen had he not been holding her tightly.

  "You're so innocent," he whispered. "It'll be fun teaching you to make love." The softness left his mouth and his lips became more demanding, arousing her to a response that frightened her.

  Anxiously she tried to draw back. "Nicky, don't!"

  "Why not? I want you." His grip increased and she felt herself lifted and carried over to the wide settee. "You're so sweet," he murmured. "I never knew how much until now."

  Her arms stole around his neck. Her eyes were closed but she felt his breath on her cheek, his eyelashes fluttering lightly upon her skin. Once more his mouth found hers and this time she did not resist him. How could she when she loved him so much? His hand moved over her body, caressing her shoulders and then cupping her breasts. Only then did she make an instinctive withdrawal, stilling the movement as his fingers pressed harder on the swelling curves.

  "I won't hurt you," he whispered. "Just let me feel you… your warmth… your softness."

  With a murmur she complied, not resisting when he pulled at her zip and lowered the front of her dress. Heat engulfed her as she felt his eyes upon her. She gripped his hand, pressing her body close to his and exulting in the tremors that racked him as he flung himself on top of her.

  "Val," he gasped. "Val…not here…not now. Come with me." He pulled back and went to draw her up. She felt the cool air on her breasts, was aware of her half-dressed body and was suddenly engulfed by shame.

  "Nicky, no. I can't."

  "Don't be silly."

  "I can't. Please understand, darling. I can't."

  For a brief instant he remained motionless, his face flushed, his eyes gleaming like jet.

  "All right," he said huskily, "but you can't say we're not on the same wavelength."

  "I never did say so. Oh Nicky, I didn't know it could be like this."

  "Nor did I. I never realized that______ ' The words died away and he gave an exultant laugh. "This really does call for a celebration drink! What will you have?"

  "Nothing, thanks. I've already had too much."

  He walked over to the sideboard and came back with two glasses. "Have a brandy, it'll do you good."

  Obediently she took the glass and sipped it. Her eyes smarted with tears as the spirit coursed down her throat and she set the glass on the table beside her.

  "It's terribly late, Nicky. Don't you think we ought to be going?"

  "There's plenty of time yet," he said easily and sat down in an armchair.

  "But it's nearly four o'clock. Aunt Alice will be getting up soon! Please take me home."

  "Why don't you stay here?"

  "Stay here?"

  He saw her expression and said quickly: "There are two bedrooms in the suite, you know. Bob sometimes stays with me. So you needn't share my bed if you don't want."

  "You know very well that I want to," she said, coloring furiously, "but I have never…I mean I haven't…"

  "I know that." He was casual to the point of indolence. "But you've got to do it some time, haven't you? I mean you're not saving it forever!"

  His words hit her like a douche of cold water, shattering her mood and making her afraid. "You're very crude," she said shakily. "Does it come naturally to you or is it force of habit?"

  Bright spots of red stained his cheeks, but when he replied his voice was regretful. "It was unforgiveable of me, Val. But you're right, of course. It is force of habit. In the world I mix in, virginity isn't prized."

  "It seems to be despised," she retorted. "And I can't think why you should want to marry me. Or is it the only way you can get me into your bed?"

  The red heightened in his face but his expression was one of dawning admiration. "I'd forgotten your razor tongue, Val. But you're wrong in your assumption. If I want a bedmate I can get them by the dozen. But I don't. I want someone whom I can"—he hesitated, as though searching for the right words—"to whom I can relate," he finished. "Who sees me as a friend and a companion—not just a meal t
icket and sex object." He set down his glass of brandy. "Now seems like a good time for me to take you home. Come on, sweetheart."

  In silence they left the suite and returned to the car. The street lamps were turned off and the day was looming gray. To the left of them the Thames flowed sluggishly and a river boat hooted mournfully in the distance. Nicky drove swiftly through the silent streets, his face set in lines of concentration, and it was not until they drew up outside the Victorian house where Mrs. Pafford lived that he spoke.

  "I'm going to be pretty busy for the next couple of weeks, Val. I've an album to record and a charity show to do."

  "You mean you won't be able to come down to Kerring?"

  "I could—but I'd rather not. It's a three-hour drive there and back. Why don't you spend a few weeks in town?"

  "I don't like to leave my father."

  "Would you rather leave me?"

  "Of course not."

  "Then fix it up. It's important that you're here with me. I want to have you with me, darling. You're engaged to me, remember?"

  "I can't believe it."

  "You will once you get a ring on your finger and your picture in the papers."

  She caught her breath. "Can't we keep our engagement a secret?"

  "What for?" He put his hand on her cheek. "You'll soon get used to the publicity. You might even be asked to write about your life with the famous Nicky Barratt!"

  She shuddered. "I'd never do that. I want our personal life to be private."

  "Nobody in the limelight has a private life. That's the penalty of fame."

  "We'll have a private life," she said decisively.

  "Don't kid yourself." He helped her out of the car and walked with her to the front door. "I won't be able to see you until tonight," he added. "Jackson Villiers is flying in from New York this morning and I'm lunching with him and Bob."

  "But-"

  "I can't help it, sweetheart. I didn't know about it until late last night. But I'll call you the minute I get away."

  "Don't," she said, then quickly added as she opened the door, "I think I'd rather go home and tell Dad about us. I'd hate it if it leaked into the papers before he heard it from me."

  "You've got a point there. And while you're home, make arrangements to come straight back. I want you to be with me."

  With a brief kiss he returned to his car and drove away, and Valerie tiptoed quietly upstairs. A church clock struck six and she kicked off her shoes and stood beside the bed. There did not seem much point in going to sleep.

  Slowly she unzipped her dress and put on a dressing gown, then settled on the bed, with the eiderdown around her feet, to think of the future: a future with a man whom she would have to share with a million other people. She sighed. Was Nicky right when he said they would have no private life? It was a terrifying prospect. Yet a future without him was even more terrifying.

  It was noon before she returned to Kerring, having first told her aunt she was going back because Nicky could not see her while Jackson Villiers was in London. She made no mention of her engagement to him—feeling she wished her father to be the first one to know— nor did she refer to the possibility of staying in town for a few weeks: before that was decided, she had to arrange for someone to take care of her father.

  As she had anticipated, he was working in the garden when she arrived, and she quickly checked to see he had put the casserole she had left him in the oven—he had, but had omitted to turn on the light— then went out to greet him.

  "Good gracious," he exclaimed, seeing her. "Had a quarrel with your singer?"

  "The exact opposite." She took the opportunity her father had given her and said: "He's asked me to marry him and I said yes."

  "You___ " Emotion robbed Mr. Browne of his voice, though he quickly recovered it. "But you hardly know him!"

  "Enough to know I love him."

  "Nonsense. You've been swept off your feet by his position and fame."

  Valerie frowned. "I can't help being flattered by the fact that he's a celebrity, but that has nothing to do with my loving him. In fact, it almost counted against him to begin with."

  "I'm not surprised. Dash it all, you weren't born yesterday. You know the life he leads. You just have to pick up a paper and—"

  "That was in the past, Dad. It's Nicky's future that concerns me."

  "A leopard can't change its spots."

  "He can if the spots were painted on!"

  "Is that what you think happened to Nicky? He never gave me the impression of regretting anything he did."

  "He doesn't regret it. But a lot of it was just done for publicity. You mustn't believe everything you read in the papers."

  "I don't. I'm not that foolish. But neither would I discount it all."

  Her lips trembled, and the emotional tears she had held at bay since Nicky had proposed to her threatened to fall. Seeing the shine in her eyes, her father dropped his trowel and put an arm round her shoulder.

  "I want what's best for you, my dear, and if you think your happiness lies with Nicky Barratt, then_____

  But don't rush into marriage. Give yourself a chance to know him better. Stay in London with your aunt, if you like."

  "That's what he suggested," Valerie said quickly.

  "At least he showed some sense." Mr. Browne grunted.

  Valerie laughed. "I'll go and see Mrs. Jakes this afternoon and ask her if she'll come in and look after you. If you find you can't manage, telephone and I'll come back."

  "That's one thing I won't do," her father asserted. "I want to give you every chance to get to know this fianc6 of yours."

  In a matter of hours Valerie had settled things satisfactorily at home and then hovered by the telephone, waiting for Nicky to make his promised call. But none came, and when eight o'clock had passed and there was still no word from him, she decided to make the call herself. No matter how long his discussion had been with his new recording company, it could not have lasted until now. Thankful she had made a note of the private number that would connect her directly to Nicky's suite, she dialed the code. Almost at once it rang out, and went on ringing without being picked up at the other end.

  She was on the verge of putting down the receiver, when she heard Nicky's voice.

  "The singer is busy," he drawled. "Call again."

  "Nicky!" Her voice was frantic. "It's me—Valerie."

  There was silence.

  "Nicky?" she said hesitantly. "Are you still there?"

  "Sure I'm still here-. I was—" He stopped and she heard muffled sounds, as if he had put his hand over the mouthpiece and was speaking to someone else.

  "I can call back if it's not convenient," she said.

  "No, no, tell me what you want."

  "I—I just wanted to let you know I can come up to London. You do still want me to, don't you?"

  "Of course. Will it be tomorrow?"

  "No. Not till Tuesday. I'll be catching the three- forty-five and will go straight to my aunt's.".

  "I'll pick you up at the station."

  "There's no need."

  "Silly." He sounded indulgent. "There's every need. I—" He broke off and she heard laughter in the distance.

  "Is there someone with you?" she asked.

  "Only Bob." He lowered his voice. "I'll see you at the station. Watch out for the dark glasses!"

  Before she could reply the line went dead, and some of her pleasure died with it. She was certain that the laugh she had heard had been that of a woman. Yet Nicky had said he was with Bob.

  Still, that didn't mean Bob hadn't brought some girl up to the suite. It was funny, but she didn't even know if the man was married. She tried to picture the woman he would like. Someone vivacious and worldly, she thought, who would accept his erratic hours and peripatetic life style. On the other hand he might prefer someone quite out of character—the way Nicky had done.

  Nicky. Her husband. It was an unbelievable thought and she hugged it to herself. The one thing she must never do
was to be jealous of him. To be surrounded by adoring girls was part of his life, and she had to remember that despite the glamour with which he was surrounded, he had chosen her.

  True to his word he met her at Victoria Station on Tuesday afternoon, his greeting so ardent that all doubts fled.

  "It seems ages since I saw you," she whispered. "I can't believe I'm going to be with you completely for the next two weeks."

  "You'll believe it when you've seen my show ten times running!"

  They laughed and ran to the car, avoiding a bunch of teenagers who had suddenly become aware of Nicky's presence. They barely reached the car in time, and Nicky swiftly shot into the stream of traffic even as a grubby hand was reaching for the door handle.

  'Shall I take you straight to the hotel?" he asked.

  "I'd rather leave my things at Aunt Alice's first. She's expecting me." He turned the car in the direction of Bayswater and she snuggled close. "I'd like you to meet her. I've told her we're engaged."

  Nicky glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "How did your old man take it? I bet he wasn't too pleased."

  "He was surprised," she said cautiously. "He felt we hadn't known each other long enough."

  "I hope you reassured him?"

  "I tried."

  "That's my girl." He pressed her knee. "It's good to see you, Val. I've missed you."

  "Not as much as I've missed you." She caught his hand and pressed it to her cheek. "I love you so much, Nicky."

  "Don't say that too often or I'll begin to believe it!"

  He stopped the car outside the house. "Are you sure you won't drop your bag and come with me?"

  "I can't. It would be rude. Why not come in for a few minutes?"

  "Aunts aren't in my line. I'll go back to the hotel and you can follow as soon as you're ready."

  Hurt, Valerie stepped out of the car. "Very well. I'll be along about six."

  He opened his wallet and handed her a five-pound note. "Get a taxi, honey."

  Valerie drew back as if he had slapped her. "I can afford to take a taxi without you paying for it."

  Nicky stared at her in astonishment. "If that's how you feel___ But you're the first girl I know who's ever refused money."