by Anne Hampson
BY FOUNTAINS WILD
Anne Hampson
“What is there in marriage for a woman? I wouldn't marry the best man breathing!” declared Kim—and meant it. Married women, she was convinced, were downtrodden, exploited, at the mercy of their selfish husbands, and she wanted no part of it.
So she was ready to lend a sympathetic ear to her friend Vicky, when Vicky begged for her help in ending her engagement to the formidable-sounding Julian Parnell. Kim evolved what she thought was a brilliant plot to compromise Julian and get Vicky out of the impossible situation; but the plot misfired on a grand scale and instead Kim found herself whisked off to the middle of Wales with Julian, married against her will to a man she scarcely knew and certainly did not care for. Was Kim's own marriage going to turn out like all those others she so despised?
CHAPTER ONE
The snow came down in great flakes, whirling past the window to build an undulating drift along the hedge. Kim leant her elbows on the wide windowsill and stared disconsolately out over the land to the narrow road beyond.
‘It would come at the week-end,’ she complained, turning as her friend entered with the coffee tray. ‘You work in the stuffy old office all week and at week-end, just when you’re free, it has to snow. We’re going to be stuck in the flat for two days, in spite of all our resolutions. Some time ago they had made up their minds to get a little more out of life, to do something each weekend, instead of wasting it. Twice now they had taken the car and visited places of interest. But on this, the third weekend since their resolutions were made, the snow had come, and judging by the grey and darkened sky, it would continue for the next couple of days at least.
‘We could take the car and go somewhere.’ Carole put down the tray and began to pour the coffee. ‘It might let up a bit later on.’
‘Not it. And it won’t be any fun driving in this, or sitting in the car when we get to wherever we’re going.’ Kim moved from the window and sat down on the couch.
‘We could do a few chores,’ suggested Carole with a grimace.
‘Chores? Not in my line, you know that. I can always find something much more interesting to do than housework.’
‘Such as?’
‘Reading a book, for one thing,’ returned Kim, and Carole laughed.
‘It’s a good thing you’re determined not to get married.’
‘Can’t see a thing in it,’ Kim retorted. ‘What is there in marriage for a woman?’
Carole merely laughed as she helped herself to sugar. She
had moved in with Kim a month ago after Kim’s friend had left her to get married. Carole’s stay was only temporary, just until her husband returned from America where he had been sent on a mission for his firm. Carole had been lonely when he had gone, and she it was who suggested she should close their flat for three months and share Kim’s snug little apartment which was more convenient to town. For Carole had resumed work in the office where she was employed before her marriage, which was also the office in which Kim worked as secretary to the managing director. ‘Take your life, for instance,’ Kim went on. ‘How much an hour do you get - when you’re at home, that is?’
‘What does it matter?’ asked Carole in surprise. ‘I haven’t even thought about it.’
‘It matters a lot. You can’t run a car, can you?’
‘David has the car.’
‘And David takes it off every morning, and you’re stuck at home, doing the household chores. You’re washing, cleaning, cooking, mending, gardening— Have you ever stopped to think what David’s getting, for his money? Have you ever reckoned up how much you get?’
‘Certainly not! And I’ve no intention of doing so!’
‘Then you should,’ said Kim practically. ‘Because I’ll bet you anything you like it doesn’t work out at more than six pence an hour.’
‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed Carole, bursting into laughter. ‘Sixpence? Don’t be ridiculous!’
Kim sat back against the cushions, her cup and saucer in her hand. Carole sat opposite and Kim eyed her speculatively.
‘Just work it out. You work at least twelve hours a day - all married women do. Now, how much spending money does David give you?’
‘I have two pounds a week for myself.’
‘Then it doesn’t work out at sixpence an hour - because you work seven days a week, remember. You’re a mug, Carole, all married women are. They’re being exploited, and it’s done so cleverly that they don’t even notice it.’ She sipped her coffee and waited for the effect of her words on her friend. Carole was
frowning heavily.
‘Hmm ... sixpence an hour. Just imagine that.’
‘Sixpence and your keep, of course.’
‘Do you know, Kim, I’ve never even thought about it like that before.’
‘Most women don’t think about it. They work all those hours, at the most uninteresting jobs imaginable; they’ve no time for leisure or relaxation — and all for a miserly sixpence an hour. You’re mad, all of you!’
‘Well ... I’ve never even thought about it,’ Carole repeated mechanically. ‘How awful. Sixpence! No wonder your married friends envy you.’
‘Of course they envy me. I work only seven hours a day; I’ve all the money I earn for myself. I run a car, and can go about as I like, go away just when I like. Take those two week-ends, for instance; you couldn’t have gone off like that with me if David had been at home.’
‘He might have taken me out, though,’ Carole began doubtfully.
‘Might,’ Kim scoffed. ‘You know very well what men do at the week-ends. The car - it has to be all polished up, and they fiddle about with batteries and oil and things. Then they decide to do a bit of gardening, then a talk over the fence to another husband next door - and you can’t even join in because they’re either talking about their silly old work or sport. Men have nothing else to talk about. Now, admit it.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ Carole owned, looking quite forlorn by this time and beginning to wonder if she had made a terrible mistake in marrying her adored David. ‘You make marriage sound so dull, Kim.’
‘It’s more than dull. Oh, you haven’t yet been married long enough to have had it brought home to you just how dull it is. I tell you, Carole, there’s absolutely nothing in it at all for a woman. I wouldn’t marry the best man breathing!’
‘You’re going to be an old maid all your life?’ Carole pondered on this, wondering if perhaps it were the lesser of two evils.
‘I don’t like that expression - or spinster. I’m a bachelor girl.’
‘Now, yes, but in twenty years’ time you won’t be a girl.’
‘I’ll look a darned sight younger than any married woman of my age,’ came the swift retort. ‘By the time they’re forty they’re positively haggard, weighed down as they are by endless worries and drudgery.’
‘You’re right — in a way,’ Carole reluctantly admitted. ‘Single women do seem to carry their ages better than married ones.’
‘I am right; and I’m sensible too. As I’ve said, men are just out to exploit women, and I’ve no time for them!’
‘Are you a man-hater?’
‘Not exactly; but I’ve no interest in them, that’s all. They do the most awful things to women, and they get away with it because women are such fools—’ Kim was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Putting down her coffee, she went into the little entrance hall of the flat and picked up the receiver. She listened for a moment, frowning. Several times Kim attempted to interrupt, and when at last she succeeded she said in some exasperation, ‘Not again, Vicky. This is the fifth!’
‘I know,’ wailed Vicky from the other end of the line. ‘But he’s so horrid, Kim. I can’t go on being engaged to hi
m!’
‘Then give him up,’ advised Kim, trying to be patient. ‘You should be an expert at jilting by now. What do you want to let me know about it for? I can’t jilt him for you.’
‘That’s just it, Kim. I can’t jilt him at all—’
‘Then for heaven’s sake marry him—’
‘I can’t - oh, Kim, don’t be impatient. You’re the only one who can help me,’ cried Vicky desperately, ‘I couldn’t marry a man like that - he’s dreadful, and cruel, and an awful flirt - in fact,’ went on Vicky in a rather awed voice, ‘I think he’s quite capable of doing other things to girls, if you know what I mean?’
Kim heaved a deep sigh and said wearily, ‘No, Vicky, I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Oh, you do! You know those kind of men, those who take girls off and — and. ...’ A slight pause and then, ‘He would,
Kim, and that’s why I want to give him lip. He’s cruel,’ she said again, and Kim guessed her young friend was nearly in tears.
‘Why,’ she asked impatiently, ‘did you get yourself engaged to him in the first place?’
‘I can’t help it; they all shoot me a line and I fall for it. I can’t say no, Kim. But I’ve learnt my lesson this time. I won’t say yes again if only you’ll help me. Please say you will, Kim, please!’ Kim regarded the receiver for a moment, feeling greatly inclined to replace it on the rest. But suddenly she heard sobs from the other end of the line and said exasperatedly,
‘What do you want me to do? And why can’t you just jilt him
— in your usual manner!’
‘He’d kill me - and besides, there’s Aunt Margaret.’
‘Your aunt?’ Kim had never met her, but she knew she adored Vicky, who had lived with her since the death of Vicky’s mother four years ago. ‘What about her?’
‘She says she’s sick and tired of my affairs—’
‘I can’t say I blame her for that,’ Kim could not help putting in.
‘And she’s going to cut me off with a shilling,’ said Vicky tragically, ‘if I throw Julian over. You see, she thinks he’s wonderful.’
‘She doesn’t mean it?’
‘She does - oh, yes, she does,’ declared Vicky, and something in her tone convinced Kim that this was true.
A thoughtful silence, and then,
‘I don’t know your aunt, Vicky, but from things you’ve said about her I’ve gathered she’s more than ordinarily astute. Are you sure this Julian’s as bad as you make out?’
‘He’s dreadful. He terrifies me. Kim, please let me come and see you — or will you come over here?’
‘In this weather? I shan’t enjoy driving all that way.’
‘Then I’ll come to you — but you’ve someone staying, haven’t you? If you came here we’d be private, for Aunt Margaret’s gone over to see an old friend of hers who’s been taken ill. I’m desperate,’ she added, on a great sob. ‘I’ll - I’ll kill myself before I’ll marry Julian, honestly I will!’
‘Don’t talk such nonsense. I’ll be over as soon as I can — but frankly I can’t see what I can do—’
‘But you’ll think of a way out - you’re so clever and practical.
And you don’t like men, so that should make it easier.’
Kim failed to see why, but she wasted no more time in talking on the phone. Far better to go over and discover what this was all about.
‘Bad news?’ asked Carole, looking up as Kim returned to the sitting-room. ‘You look sort of - pale.’
‘Then it must be with anger,’ Kim returned, taking a drink and then putting down her cup with a grimace. ‘Ugh - stone cold!’
‘Anger?’ Carole’s glance was inquiring. ‘It’s not like you to be angry.’
‘You don’t know me,’ Kim grinned. And after a slight hesitation, ‘It’s Vicky, a young friend of mine. I think perhaps I’ve mentioned her to you. I got to know her through her sister, who’s more my own age. But Liz - that’s the sister - married and went to live in Canada. I’ve kept up the friendship with Vicky, though we don’t go about together at all. Vicky’s hobby’s getting herself engaged and then jilting these various hopefuls.’
‘Good heavens, you sound as if she’s been engaged half a dozen times!’
‘Not quite. Five to be exact.’
Carole’s great violet eyes opened wide.
‘You’re joking.’
Laughing at her expression, Kim assured her friend that what she’d said was absolutely true.
‘But why? Can’t she make up her mind?’
‘Her excuse is that these men get her in a romantic situation -moon and purple sky, I expect - and then ask her to marry them
— one at a time, of course,’ she added laughing. ‘And she simply can’t say no. This time she seems scared of the man.’ Kim paused and frowned. ‘He sounds pretty grim, if what she says is right. Anyway, she’s afraid of jilting him, and there’s another reason, but that, I gather, is private, so I can’t tell you about it.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘She wants me to go over and see her. Thinks I can help.’
Carole blinked.
‘Help? What help can you give?’
‘Can’t think, but Vicky appears to have great faith in me as a rescuer. I’d better go. Sorry to leave you all by yourself, Carole, but I’ll try and be back before lunch.’
‘Okay. Mind how you go; the roads will be treacherous, to say the least.’
Vicky’s lovely face was tear-stained. She was standing at the front door of the pretty little detached cottage, regardless of the snow whirling all around her and finding its way into the hall.
‘What are you doing out here?’ Kim had backed the car up the drive and she was now mounting the steps to the door. ‘In you go, and don’t look so forlorn; it’s not the end of the world.’
‘Oh Kim, thank you; you’re so practical. No, it isn’t the end of the world, is it? Everything will be all right now you’re here to sort it out.’ She led the way into the cosy room which served as both lounge and dining-room. A fire blazed in the grate and the light from two wall lights spread a pleasant glow over the walls and the low, oak-beamed ceiling.
‘You look lovely!’ exclaimed Vicky, diverted. ‘Oh, Kim, let me look at you before you take them off!’ She stood back, watching in admiration as Kim, ignoring her request, began taking off her outdoor things. She wore a bright red coat trimmed with white fur on the collar and pockets. Her hood was of matching fur and so were her gloves. To complete the outfit Kim had on a pair of white boots in soft, expensive kid. Her face was glowing, and the colour seemed to make more pronounced the high cheekbones and the wide intelligent brow. Her hair was honey-gold and her eyes brown. Her lips were full and there was a strange sort of tenderness about them which persisted in spite of Kim’s oft-repeated assertions that she was too sensible and practical ever to commit the folly of falling in love. In her movements there was a nymph-like quality and grace of which Kim herself was totally unaware. But Vicky’s eyes took in everything, and Kim could not miss the unveiled appreciation in their depths. She flushed, in spite of herself, and then said, abruptly, ‘Hang them up for me, Vick, and then let’s have the whole dismal story and see what’s to be done.’
‘Do you want coffee yet?’ Vicky asked on returning to the room. Kim shook her head, and again invited her friend to let her have the whole story.
There was nothing new at first. Julian Parnell had proposed within a fortnight of meeting Vicky, and had succeeded in being accepted. The engagement had continued for just over three weeks.
‘Three weeks,’ interrupted Kim, lifting her brows. ‘We’re improving.’
‘Please, Kim ... don’t,’ begged Vicky, and despite her amusement Kim found herself feeling sorry for her friend. ‘I then discovered I didn’t love him at all.’
‘Well, that follows the pattern,’ said Kim, though in a softer tone. ‘Why didn’t you tell him at once?’
‘Because I was scared.’ Vicky’s grey eyes filled up again. ‘He looked l
ike murder when I so much as mentioned giving him up. And he said, in a horrid, bossy sort of tone, that far from giving him up, I was to marry him right away.’
‘After knowing you for only five weeks!’
‘Yes — oh, and he might take me to live in a monastery—’
‘A what?’
‘A monastery,’ she repeated. ‘And it’s all primitive and no modern conveniences or anything. I couldn’t stand it, could I? Not anyone like me!’
Kim glanced at her friend sceptically.
‘Are you sure about all this?’ she asked, watching her closely.
‘I swear it!’
‘Where does he live now?’
‘In a flat - but he’s bought this monastery, right up in the mountains of Wales; it’s been uninhabited for years, and it’s miles from anywhere - oh, Kim, he could murder me and no one would know!’
‘Don’t be silly, Vick. What would he want to murder you for?’
‘What do men murder women for?’ Vicky cried. ‘And even if he didn’t murder me he’d be cruel, I know he would.’
‘How can you know that? Has he been unkind already?’ ‘I’ve told you - he terrified me when I hinted at giving him up. Oh, Kim, it was dreadful!’
Quelling the sigh of impatience that rose to her lips, Kim then said,
‘What’s this about your aunt? She doesn’t want you to give him up, you say?’
‘She absolutely forbids it. Says Julian’s just the man for me—’ A tiny sob prevented further speech for a moment and Kim just stared into the fire and waited. ‘She said I needed a firm hand, needed someone to keep me in order. Wasn’t that unkind of her, Kim?’
How to answer that one was a puzzle, for Kim agreed wholeheartedly with Vicky’s Aunt Margaret. However, there was a world of difference between being kept in order and being terrorized.
‘This Julian really is the domineering type, then?’
‘Of course; I told you so.’
‘I thought you might be exaggerating,’ Kim admitted, and the light of indignation entered Vicky’s eyes.
‘Indeed I wasn’t. He’s like a - a savage—’
‘Nonsense. Now you are exaggerating. Tell me, rationally, just what he’s like. What does he look like?’
