by Lilian Peake
‘My word,’ commented Lester, ‘this surely is the event of a lifetime. She’s actually taken my advice!’
‘Shall I add them up together, miss?’ Mr. Frenley asked.
Elise opened her mouth to say, ‘No, separately,’ when Lester said, ‘Yes, please. I’m paying.’
‘But, Lester,’ Elise protested, ‘I didn’t mean - ‘
He held up his hand to silence her and gave Mr. Frenley a handful of notes. The man looked up, smiling benevolently. ‘Are you two getting - ?’
‘No,’ said Lester firmly, ‘we’re not. We’re just good friends.’
Elise turned away sharply, and Mr. Frenley said, ‘Oh,’ but it was the way he said it that annoyed her.
Lester taunted, as he helped her into the van, ‘Now the tongues will start wagging. I’ve bought you some clothes. If it gets round to Howard, he might even challenge me to a duel in defence of your honour!’ He pulled out into the main road, overtaking a learner-driver. ‘And,’ he said quietly, his voice holding an odd anticipation, ‘may the best man win.’
CHAPTER 9
Elise wore her new red outfit that evening. She had to admit that Lester was right - it did ‘do something’ for her. No one, not even Lester, could dismiss her as a ‘mouse’ in that outfit. She wished he could see her in it.
Roland gave her a lift to Phil Pollard’s and carried the hi-fit equipment into the shop before going on to Clare’s.
Phil’s eyes opened wide. ‘My, you look pretty!’ He opened up the record player on the counter. ‘Let me see, didn’t I think it might be a loose connection?’ With the care and respect of a fanatical hi-fi enthusiast he turned the record player upside down and removed the base.
‘I’ll have to unscrew the circuit board and have a look underneath.’ He eased the board out of the case and peered at the maze of wires and components, lifting them and probing with gentle fingers. ‘Ah, I see it, there’s a wire come loose and it’s been touching the base. That would cause the hum. Won’t take long to repair it.’
He took out his soldering iron and plugged it in to the mains. Twenty minutes later, the wire had been reconnected and the record player reassembled. ‘There, that didn’t take long, did it?’ He looked at her, doubt and hope mingling in his eyes. ‘Are you going home now, or - ?’
She nodded. ‘Home.’
‘Then - would you come out with me on that drive we’ve never had? We could stop for a coffee somewhere? Only for half an hour or so, Elise?’ There was a pleading lift to his voice that she did not have the heart to resist. She nodded. ‘Good, good,’ he said, and carried the hi-fi equipment to the car. ‘I’ll take you home afterwards.’
His car was waiting at the kerb and he opened the boot and lowered the equipment into it. As she stood on the pavement waiting for him to let her into the car, a Kings’ van approached.
‘No,’ she willed, straining to see the driver’s face, ‘not Lester. It mustn’t be Lester.’
The van slowed to a standstill a few feet behind Phil’s car. The driver was staring at her as though he could not believe his eyes.
‘Don’t,’ Elise wanted to shout. ‘It’s not true what you’re thinking, Lester. I’m not in league with Phil. We’re not working together. We aren’t responsible for those thefts. Please, please believe me!’
But the van was pulling out and moving on, and she had not spoken a word. As he drew alongside Phil’s car, the look which Lester turned upon her ripped her into tiny pieces like a torn-up letter and scattered her to the winds.
With appeal in her eyes, with the disavowing shake of her head, she tried to declare her innocence and plead for his understanding. But he dismissed her pleading with contempt and she knew she had failed.
Phil took her for a drive and they had coffee at a pleasant roadside hotel on the way home. She thanked him as he carried her record player into the house, and he in turn thanked her sincerely for her company.
‘Another evening, perhaps?’ he suggested, full of hope.
‘That would be nice,’ she answered, her voice falsely bright.
Later, when the phone rang, she guessed who it was, and her hand grew moist as she gripped the receiver. ‘Elise?’ Lester’s curt tone told her the worst.
She whispered, ‘Yes.’
‘You can forget about helping me tomorrow. In fact, I shall not require your services again. I’ll send you what I owe you. I’m getting someone else to do the work, someone I can trust.’
He rang off before she had a chance to reply. Two days later, he went away.
Howard kept his promise. He took her out to dinner, then produced his house like a conjuror taking a rabbit out of a hat.
‘This is it,’ he said with pride, as if he were inviting her into a royal palace.
She could not deny its attractions. She had to concede that as a residence, it was certainly desirable. It was furnished and equipped on a scale that was both lavish and showy and it was plain that the woman he would take for a wife would have to be gracious and sophisticated to go with it.
What puzzled her as she strolled round, dutifully admiring everything she saw, was why he thought she possessed such qualities. Was he so blind that he could not see that her very nature would not allow her to be those things? Or did he think that with a little tuition from him, she would develop into the perfect hostess he required?
They returned to the lounge, with its great picture window overlooking a large and impossibly neat back-garden. He put a drink into her hand and told her to sit down. What did she think of the place? He wanted to know, as proud of it as if it were something he had physically created himself, like the mother of a child who had proved to be a prodigy.
She praised it extravagantly, failing to realise that he would regard this as a sign of her acceptance of him as a husband. That he had taken it that way occurred to her suddenly as he removed the empty glass from her hand and sat himself as close to her as he could physically get.
His arms went round her, he pushed her back against the cushions and began to make love to her with as much method and attention to detail as he gave to his work. It was a passionless, mechanical approach which required nothing of her but toleration and a stoical endurance. As a first experience of the desires of a man, it was horrifying and repellent.
But she did not see it that way. She thought she should able to respond, that there was something lacking in herself.
She began to despair. At last, to her infinite relief, he stopped.
‘Yes, well,’ he said, putting his handkerchief to his brow, ‘it will come in time, it will come.’
He took her home at her request, and when she left him outside the house he said, ‘Soon we must get a ring. We must make it official.’
She made her father’s cup of tea and he came down from his room looking tired and in need of comfort. But, as he lowered himself wearily into the armchair, he saw that his daughter was in some distress and was as much in need of comfort as he was.
‘What’s wrong, love?’ His tone was deliberately brisk as if giving the impression that he did not want to force her confidence.
She shook her head.
‘Been out with Howard?’ She nodded. ‘Anywhere exciting?’
She shrugged. ‘To his house.’ There was a short silence, then, ‘I think he tried to sell it to me, with himself thrown in as a special offer.’
Her father laughed, as if glad of the chance to ease the tension.
‘Dad,’ she said, then stopped. She looked at his impassive face, took comfort and went on, ‘He wants me to marry him.’ Another pause. ‘And I don’t know what to say.’
He took some time to answer, so long in fact that she went on, ‘He’s got a beautiful house, plenty of money, a good position. By nature he seems to be stable, solid, safe …’ Her voice trailed away.
At last her father spoke. ‘That’s all very well, love, but you don’t marry bricks and mortar, or cash. You marry a man, not his possessions or position. What you must
ask yourself is, do you fit in with each other intellectually, do you share the same interests, does the world stop turning when you’re together? You know what I mean, Elise. Does he attract you physically? When he’s away from you do you feel you’re only half alive?’ She was shaking her head so vigorously that he stopped asking questions and answered hers.
‘Then it’s no, love, three thousand times “no”.’ He sat forward, his hands clasped. ‘Look, Elise, don’t ever think I want you to go. This house is yours as well as mine. Don’t think, either, that I want you to stay. If ever you found someone you loved - and I mean loved - you’re as free to go as those birds flying about out there are free to migrate when the time comes.’
‘But, Dad,’ she spoke as though the words were clinging to her like a frightened child, ‘I - I think I’m cold. I don’t think I’d make any man a good wife.’ She hid her face in her hands, trying to shut out Lester’s face.
Her father came to her and put his hand on her head. ‘My dearest girl, you’re talking the most arrant nonsense. You’re as warm and loving and sweet-natured and responsive as your mother was. She was the most wonderful woman - and wife - a man could ever hope to have. To say I miss her would be the grossest understatement of all time.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered through her fingers. ‘I’m sorry to have burdened you with my troubles. But thanks for listening - and for helping.’
He bent down and kissed the top of her head. He said, as he went to the door, ‘That’s what fathers are for, isn’t it?’
She was in her bedroom, lost to the world the following evening, with her stereo headphones clamped firmly over her ears, when Roland walked in, pulling Clare behind him.
‘We’re engaged,’ he said, when Elise had freed herself from wires and flex, ‘and we’re making it official.’
The two girls embraced and laughed and Roland said, ‘We’re thinking of having a party to celebrate, just a few drinks and savouries.’ He looked at his sister expectantly. ‘Tomorrow. I know it’s short notice, but could you cope?’
Clare held on to his arm. ‘I told you, darling, I’ll see to the food.’
Elise said, ‘Let’s both do it, Clare.’
So they agreed that Clare would arrive early and help with the preparations.
‘Who’s coming?’ Elise asked.
‘A few of Roland’s colleagues,’ Clare said, ‘and their partners. One or two friends of mine. What about you, Elise? You can’t be the odd one out, without a partner. Can’t you ask Lester?’
‘He’s away,’ Elise said shortly.
‘Anyway,’ said her brother, ‘they’re sworn enemies, so that’s no good. What about Howard?’ Elise made a face. ‘You must have a partner, Elise.’
‘Yes, she must,’ Clare laughed, ‘otherwise I can see what will happen - she’ll dash away half-way through and lock herself in here.’
‘All right,’ Elise said grudgingly, ‘I suppose I’ll have to ask Howard.’
When she phoned him he accepted with alacrity. ‘I’ll bring some drink. I’ve just had a thought - what about announcing our engagement at the same time?’
She felt trapped. The bulldozer was advancing on her, getting nearer and nearer. ‘Oh - er - not yet, Howard.’
‘What do you mean - not yet? How much longer do you intend to fool about, pretending “no’s” the answer when I know very well it’s “yes”?’
‘It’s - it’s just,’ she had to think quickly, ‘it’s just that it’s Roland and Clare’s party, their engagement, and it doesn’t seem right to try and make it ours too, does it?’
He sighed. ‘Have it your way. We’ll have a party of our own, if that’s what you want.’
Next day Clare arrived soon after lunch. ‘Look at the ring your wonderful brother’s given me.’ Two diamonds sparkled in an attractive platinum setting.
‘Lovely!’ Elise exclaimed. ‘My brother’s got good taste in more ways than one.’
‘That,’ said Clare, pulling up her sleeves, ‘is blatant flattery. But I’m lapping it up. Now, let’s get down to it.
‘I wish,’ she said suddenly as they worked, ‘you were as happy as I am. I’d like to do for you what you did for me.’ When Elise looked puzzled, she said, ‘I wish I had a brother I could introduce you to!’
Elise laughed. ‘Then we really would all be one big happy family!’
‘Isn’t there - anyone you like well enough to want to marry?’
Elise answered with a careful laugh. ‘I doubt if I’m the marrying kind, Clare. Anyway, it takes two, remember! I think there must be something about me that freezes a man up. I just haven’t got what it takes.’
‘Stop under-estimating yourself, dear.’ She patted Elise on the back. ‘Just wait until Auntie Clare gets going on you this afternoon. You won’t recognise yourself.’ She said quietly, after a while, ‘I thought the same about myself - until I met my husband. When you meet the person you want to marry, you somehow find in yourself all the qualities you thought you hadn’t got.’
‘Does it still hurt to talk about him, Clare?’
She shook her head. ‘Not now. Our marriage was wonderful while it lasted, which wasn’t very long. When he died, I thought the end of the world had come, but now - ‘ She brightened. ‘I’ve told Roland all about it and he understands. I’ll say it again, and you can’t stop me - you’ve got a wonderful brother, Elise!’
They went upstairs laughing. Clare’s dress was yellow and sleeveless and she had bought it specially for the occasion. She put it on and made up her face and combed her long black hair, then turned to Elise. ‘What are you wearing?’
‘Something that’s been hanging in the cupboard since I bought it months ago. I’ve never had any reason to wear it before.’
‘Well, now’s the time to give it an airing. Come on, show Auntie.’
Elise searched in the wardrobe and brought out the dress.
‘M’m, looks promising,’ said Clare. ‘Put it on.’
The fabric was summer-weight and patterned in a mixture of red, grey and yellow. It was long-sleeved and buttoned high to the neck, following her figure closely to the waist, where it was pulled in by a wide, silver-buckled belt, then it hung in soft folds to the hem.
‘Wow!’ said Clare. ‘Very fetching, very effective. Should put Howard in the mood to propose.’
Elise looked startled. ‘Then I’d better take it off again!’
Clare laughed and said, ‘Don’t you dare! I’ve never seen you look so good. Now for your face.’
Ten minutes later, Clare stood back and admired her efforts. ‘You’re a different girl. You never know, one of Roland’s friends might take a fancy to you and snatch you from under Howard’s nose!’
The guests began to drift in and Harold Lennan hovered uncomfortably in the background. Elise detected in his eyes the urge to escape and she smiled reassuringly at him.
She whispered, full of sympathy because she shared his solitary nature, ‘Go upstairs if you want to, Dad. Roland and Clare won’t mind.’
He looked pathetically pleased. ‘Well, dear, if you think they won’t be offended … I never was a very social animal.’ He made for the stairs, saying over his shoulder, ‘Call me if you want me.’
Howard came, stolid as ever. As he stepped in the door, he pulled two bottles from under his jacket. Clare opened her arms to receive them, crying ‘Manna from heaven!’ and disappeared with them into the kitchen.
‘Hallo, Elise,’ Howard said, and kissed her. His eyes were tinged with surprise, but they nevertheless appraised and approved. He seemed to be silently commending her for dressing so suitably for the role of hostess she was about to play - practising, as it were, for the part she would be called upon to act in his own home, when she became his wife.
After that, wherever she went, he followed. Even when she went into the kitchen, he waited at the door until she came out again. She could not shake him off. He clung like adhesive and she could find no solvent with which to remo
ve him.
Clare stood on tiptoe and whispered to Roland, ‘Can’t you help your poor sister? Howard’s shadowing her everywhere she goes. Couldn’t you ask Rob over there,’ she indicated a young man sitting alone, ‘to act as a decoy?’
Roland nodded. He called out, ‘Elise, just a moment,’ and before Howard knew what was happening, she was following her brother.
Roland murmured to Rob, who grinned and made room for Elise to sit beside him. She squeezed into the small space, feeling tongue-tied and embarrassed but glad to do anything which would help her escape from her pursuer.
Rob whispered to her like a conspirator. It was mostly nonsense, but she managed to look interested and absorbed and even laughed at his jokes. But the ruse did not succeed for long. A possessive hand descended to her shoulder like that of a policeman about to make an arrest.
Rob’s eyes sympathised. He made a face behind his empty glass. ‘I’ve done my best,’ he murmured. ‘Now it’s over to you. Sorry, chum.’
He got up and moved away, abandoning her to her fate. Howard remained where he was, his fingers clamping her firmly to him, like a child who would not be parted from a cherished toy.
The phone rang and Roland answered it. He came across the room and whispered, ‘That was Lester. He’s back a day early, so I asked him over.’ He saw her dismay and wrongly interpreted it as disapproval. He reprimanded in a big brother tone, ‘I had to ask him, Elise. Anyway, it’s my party and he’ll be my guest, not yours.’
Now she knew Lester was coming, her tension mounted. Over the laughter and the talk, her ears picked up the sound of every vehicle that passed the house. When at last a car slowed down and stopped outside, she had a mad desire to run up to her bedroom and lock herself in.
But Howard’s hand, still fastened to her shoulder, kept her beside him. When the doorbell rang, she pressed her moist palms together and tried to get up. But as she did so the sitting-room door opened and she flopped down again.
Lester’s eyes swept round the room and settled on her. There was no smile on his face, no look of pleasure at seeing her again. She knew instinctively that he still had not forgiven her for her supposed association with Phil Pollard.
