by Lilian Peake
Howard moved to occupy the chair Rob had vacated. His glass was full again and it occurred to Elise that he might be drinking more than was good for him.
Roland pushed Lester into the centre of the room. ‘Another friend of mine,’ he shouted above the din, ‘Lester Kings. You’ll all have to make your own introductions.’
‘Lester!’ Clare held out her hand and he pulled her towards him.
‘Congratulations,’ he said, kissing her cheek, and everyone applauded.
‘Wow, I like your outfit, Lester,’ she said, admiring the multicoloured shirt he was wearing. ‘And that tie!’ She hid her eyes. ‘It blinds me!’ She pointed to the wide patterned leather belt round his waist. ‘And look at this. Talk about trendy!’
‘What’s happened, Lester,’ Roland joked, ‘been indulging your libido while you were away?’
‘Or,’ commented Clare, ‘perhaps you’ve found another girl friend?’
‘Not on your life!’ said Lester. ‘I told you, I’ve renounced women.’
Everyone laughed. Rob called out, ‘Then you’re going the wrong way about it, Lester. In that outfit you’ll have them grovelling at your feet.’
‘Then the pleasure will be all the greater,’ his eyes held malice as they sought Elise, ‘in throwing them aside, one by one.’
‘We have a Casanova in our midst,’ one of the men called out. ‘Ladies, be warned, lock up your hearts and keep your distance from this hard-hearted brute!’
The man in question listened intently as Roland whispered in his ear, his gaze resting first on Elise, then on Howard beside her. As he listened, his eyes narrowed with a spiteful pleasure and he nodded.
He strolled towards them, thumbs hooked into his trouser pockets. He might have been drawing an imaginary sword from its scabbard in readiness for a duel-to-the-death with an avowed enemy.
He stood on the raised tiled hearth, thus adding an inch or two to his already towering height, and propped a shoulder against the wall above the fireplace.
‘Hallo, Elise,’ he said, his eyes caressing, ‘missed me, sweetie, while I’ve been away?’
She coloured deeply, suspecting him of the worst possible motives. Howard spluttered in the act of committing the liquid in his glass to his throat. Lester did nothing to help him. He waited until the man had recovered, then went on,
‘Did you go out over the holiday, sweetie?’
She shrugged, knowing he did not require an answer. The question was merely a preliminary to what was to follow.
‘You didn’t? Well, I’m not really surprised. You know, Howard,’ his eyes rested sadistically on the other man, ‘I know this girl almost as well as I know myself, but what
I’ve never been able to understand is why such an attractive girl should want to keep hiding herself away.’ He bent down whispered, his tone falsely confiding. ‘Do you know what her favourite occupation is?’ Howard shook his head dumbly.
‘Listening to music - classical music’ He paused while Howard winced. ‘But that’s not all, my dear chap. She listens to it on headphones, stretched out on her bed - well, that’s how I’ve found her every time I’ve gone up to her bedroom, which is pretty often.’
He waited again, while Howard flushed a dull red and digested this piece of information. Elise looked at the speaker as if she would like to get her hands to his throat. She could not deny his assertions, because in essence they were true. It was only in the context in which he was presenting them that they were false.
‘You know,’ Lester murmured, putting his fingers under her chin with a gesture that could have been born of intimacy, ‘you may think this girl’s a quiet little mouse, but take it from me, as I know to my cost she’s really a vicious tigress at heart. She bit me once. I still bear the scar. I could show it to you, but,’ he released her chin looked around and lowered his voice, ‘in the circumstances, it would be a bit embarrassing.’
‘Lester!’ She had to stop him. ‘Will you be quiet! You know very well that what you’re saying - ‘
‘Is not for other people’s ears. All right, my sweet, I’ll keep our secret.’
‘Please, Lester!’ It was a cry from the heart and it should have touched his compassion, but it seemed that he possessed no such quality any more.
‘Those clothes I bought you recently, pet. Have you worn them yet?’ He grinned diabolically. ‘They seem to have caused quite a stir. Old man Frenley passed the message round that we were - er - “walking out” together and that I was buying you presents. And according to the gossip mongers, when a man does that for a woman, well …!’ He laughed as though he enjoyed the thought. ‘Now it seems to be generally accepted that we’re having an affair. That, together with the stories put round about us by my former landlady, really has given us both a reputation!’
Howard appeared to be finding it difficult to breathe. He ran a shaking finger round the inside of his shirt collar and loosened his tie as if it had been choking him.
Elise said, now beside herself with anger, ‘It can’t be true, Lester. You’re making it all up.’
‘I assure you, my sweet,’ he injected the endearment with a deep familiarity, ‘I’m telling you the truth. Ask Mrs. Dennis - she told me about the rumour as soon as I arrived home this afternoon.’
Howard stood up, staggering sideways as if he had been dealt a punishing blow. He muttered thickly as he moved away,
‘Think I’ll get myself another drink.’
As soon as he had gone, Elise gripped Lester’s arm, but he shook off her hold. ‘Sorry, sweetie, someone’s calling me.’
He had achieved his object - he had vanquished his opponent, verbally slain him in fact. The prize was his for the asking. But he did not choose to ask. He turned his back on her instead and sauntered across the room to talk to a pretty young redhead who was sitting alone.
Well, Elise tried to console herself, at least he had done something for her - he had given her a respite from Howard’s surveillance. She moved her eyes stealthily sideways to see if Howard was watching, but he was tossing back a drink and helping himself to another like a man trying to drown his sorrows. She seized her chance of freedom and made a dash for the kitchen, rejoicing in her sudden emancipation like an escaped prisoner scaling a wall and dropping down the other side.
She made some fresh coffee and was so engrossed she did not hear a sound behind her. But something alerted her - she was being watched.
It couldn’t be, it must not be Howard. She spun round. It was Lester. She smiled with sheer relief. He did not smile back. The touch of familiarity in his manner had gone as if it had never been. His expression was cold, his eyes likewise as he said, ‘I must congratulate you on your appearance. I’ve never seen you looking so attractive.’
She coloured. ‘Thanks, but it was mostly Clare’s doing.’
‘Yes, I thought I could detect Clare’s handiwork.’ He looked her over closely. ‘But there’s something else about you, some quality which no amount of cosmetics could instil in you.’ She was silent, concentrating on making the coffee. ‘Anyone would think,’ he went on casually, ‘that you were in love. Are you?’
That was a question she could not answer.
‘How’s Phil Pollard?’
Now she could see how his mind was working. ‘I’ve been on holiday. We don’t go back to work until tomorrow.’ ‘So you haven’t seen him?’
‘Of course I haven’t seen him.’ She lowered the coffee pot on to the tray. ‘He’s my employer, not my friend.’
‘No? You went out with him last week. I saw you.’
‘That,’ she answered crisply, ‘was purely business.’
‘Of course.’ His cynical smile showed that he had not believed a word of it.
He blocked the doorway. ‘Excuse me, please,’ she said. ‘I want to take this tray into the other room.’
He didn’t move. He said, ‘I’ll take it. Give it to me.’
She tried to push away his fingers as they met hers round the ed
ges of the tray, but she could not push away his eyes as they met hers over the top of it. There seemed to be a question in his, a message which she struggled to read, but it was in a language which she had never been taught to understand. She was transfixed, she moved her lips to whisper his name, to ask him what he was trying to say. She felt it was of the utmost importance that she should know. But the sardonic twist to his smile stopped her as effectively as a hand slapped across her mouth.
Humiliated that she had allowed herself to imagine a message that was not there- - had she really been stupid enough to believe that he was telling her he loved her? - she gave him the tray, and he acknowledged his victory with a mocking bow.
By the time they reached the others, she had recovered her poise. ‘Thanks,’ she said coldly, taking the tray again, ‘but I could have carried it just as easily myself.’
He raised an eyebrow at her ingratitude and strolled away. She walked round the room offering people coffee, pouring it out and distributing it, her mind busy all the time trying to discover the meaning of the silent message in Lester’s eyes.
Roland called her name and pushed his way across the room, pulling Clare behind him. ‘They want to drink a toast to us, Elise. Don’t you think we should call Dad? He might be upset if we didn’t ask him to join us.’
She nodded, put down the tray and looked furtively round the room for Howard. But someone was talking to him and she sent the man a silent vote of thanks. Even so, as she climbed the stairs, she glanced behind, unable to believe that Howard was not following her.
She tapped on her father’s door and went in. ‘Dad,’ she said, and stopped. Lester was lounging across a corner of the table, talking. She had interrupted what had sounded like a technical discussion.
Lester raised an eyebrow. ‘You surely aren’t looking for me?’
‘Of course not.’
‘No, I thought you weren’t. You never did like me enough to chase after me, did you?’
Harold Lennan laughed. ‘Never take a woman’s words or deeds at their face value, Lester. When she says “no” she means “yes”, and when she says “go away” she means “come and get me”!’
Elise frowned. Her father was too near the truth for comfort.
But Lester shook his head. ‘Not this girl. She means what she says, don’t you, Elise?’
‘That’s where you’re wrong, boy. My daughter’s no different from other women.’
‘Dad,’ said Elise, firmly changing the subject, ‘you’re wanted downstairs. They’re going to drink a toast to Roland and Clare.’
‘Right.’ With his hands against the table, he pushed himself to his feet. ‘Heaven knows, I’ve waited long enough for my son to get himself engaged.’
They went down, Elise leading the way.
‘I only hope,’ grunted Harold, ‘that my daughter doesn’t keep me waiting this long before she hooks the man of her choice.’
As they joined the party, Howard, who had personally chosen himself to fill that vacancy was wearing the expression of an abject dog. On seeing his future mate enter the room, his eyes strained at the leash as he made frantic attempts to get to her before the toasts were drunk. But she was hemmed in on the one side by her father and on the other by Lester, and as there were people all round them, Howard’s frenzied efforts to reach her were doomed from the start.
Lester saw his predicament and grinned. ‘Your boyfriend seems to be suffering from chronic frustration,’ he whispered. ‘His abortive attempts to get at you touch my heart.’
A toast was drunk to the happy couple, but that, apparently, was not enough. Having started to lift their glasses, everyone cried out for more.
‘Who next?’ someone asked. ‘The lady of the house?’
Clare took him up. ‘Yes, let’s drink to Elise.’
‘Who’s the lucky man?’ Rob asked, winking wickedly at Elise and looking at Howard.
‘Come on,’ Clare said, staring pointedly at Lester, ‘somebody volunteer. There’s an attractive, heart-whole young lady standing there waiting to be claimed. Any offers?’
Howard became violent in his attempts to take his rightful place beside her, but the pressure of the other guests still held him prisoner.
Lester eyed him maliciously and grinned down at Elise. ‘They’re all looking at us, darling, so smile sweetly.’
There was a burst of laughter and someone chortled, ‘Casanova’s been caught at last. Let’s drink to him and the clever lady who did it.’
So they drank a toast to Elise and Lester. But she would not acknowledge them. ‘Tell them the truth, Lester,’ she pleaded, raising herself on to her toes and whispering in his ear.
‘Drink, girl,’ he whispered back, ‘don’t spoil their fun.’
So, reluctantly, she drank. Then someone proposed a toast to the father of the bridegroom-to-be and Harold smiled, tolerating with good humour the spotlight that fell on him for a few passing moments.
When it was over, Elise moved away from Lester’s side. He did not attempt to stop her.
‘I’m off, love,’ Harold murmured in his daughter’s ear. ‘You don’t mind?’
She gave him an affectionate push and he returned thankfully to the solitude of his room.
For the remainder of the evening, she moved amongst the guests acting the gracious hostess which, if nothing else, took her out of Howard’s reach, although he dogged her footsteps most of the time.
When she did allow herself now and then to glance at Lester, she found his eyes upon her and he smiled sardonic ally as he watched her vain attempts to elude her pursuer.
In fact, Lester’s efforts to put Howard off her scent seemed to have misfired. The man was more persistent than ever. Elise could not understand it, but it was almost as though Lester’s hints of a liaison between them had made Howard even more possessive towards her.
When the party was nearly over, he was still sticking like a limpet. Others began to leave, but he stayed on. Elise went into the kitchen to start the washing up, but he hovered in the doorway. She eyed his position, trying to assess her chances of getting past him unmolested and fleeing up to her father’s room.
She dried her hands and, making some excuse about having a word with Roland, she pushed through to the hall, but he lunged forward and caught her, propelling her backwards into the dining-room and shutting the door.
His arms trapped her. Tve got you now,’ he growled, ‘and this time you’re not getting away.’ He muttered indistinctly against her hair, ‘So you’re not the sweet little innocent you’ve been pretending to be, eh? You’ve been leading me on with your “coyness”, have you? I’ll teach you to play with me!’
His mouth tried in vain to settle on hers, but her evasive tactics were too effective for him in his fuddled state. He started to make violent love to her. He was awkward and bungling and as he forced her back against the table, she writhed and twisted and managed by sheer persistence to get a hand free, using it to give him a stinging slap across the cheek.
He let her go at once, his face red, his chest heaving. He was incoherent with rage. With his hand to his scarlet cheek, he swung out of the room, stumped down the hall and slammed out of the house.
She slumped into a chair and covered her face. She was shaking. When someone walked in and closed the door, she didn’t look up.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Lester.
She mumbled, her face still hidden, ‘It was all your fault. All those things you said about the two of us, pretending we were having an affair - ‘
‘But you wanted to get rid of him. Roland told me.’
Her head came up. ‘Get rid of him, yes. But you made him worse. He dragged me in here and - and assaulted me!’
He frowned. But when she said, with an unmistakable touch of pride, ‘I slapped his face and he got mad and went home,’ he grinned.
‘So the little mouse turned tigress again! It’s that deep-down aggression of yours. My word,’ the anticipatory gleam of the hunter cam
e into his eyes, ‘some man’s going to have to come to grips with that and tame it one day.’
She stood unsteadily. ‘All the same,’ she softened her tone and looked at him, ‘thanks for trying to help me. It was true. I did want to get rid of him.’
His eyes, which were searching hers, seemed puzzled, and now it was his turn to try to decipher the wordless message passing between them.
His hands lifted to her face. He whispered, ‘You’re looking at me as though you want me to kiss you. Did you know that?’
She shook her head, waiting. His arms went round her, his mouth came down and the kiss he gave her touched a treasure chest of feeling inside her. It burst open and the contents spilled and she was responding to his lips like any other girl deeply in love. She clung to him, yielding, and in answer to her passion his hand moved and he held her more intimately than he had ever done before. She didn’t recoil, she didn’t back away as she would have done in the past. She gave herself up at last to the ecstasy of being touched by the man she loved, and the thought drifted through her mind, like wisps of cloud in a bright sky, ‘If he holds me like this, he must - he must love me.’
But he raised his head, disentangled himself from her arms and put her away from him. ‘Goodnight, Elise,’ he said quietly, and went home.
She dropped, defeated, into a chair. She had tried to tell him she loved him, the message had been there in her lips and her arms, but he had chosen to ignore it. Into the depths of her misery there came a shaft of light, like the sun finding a break in a cloud-ridden sky. She was not cold. She had warmth and passion like any other woman, because in Lester’s arms she had come to life. But the sunlight turned to shadow, and her brief happiness faded, when she remembered with humiliation the firmness and finality of his rejection.
CHAPTER 10
Elise asked her brother, a few days after the party, “When Lester was away, do you know if he saw Nina?’
Roland lowered his book, showing impatience at being disturbed. ‘Yes, he did. Why?’
She made her tone indifferent. ‘I just wondered if they had got engaged again.’
