Dreams to Sell

by Anne Douglas

  ‘Is it Roz?’ he asked, his Scottish voice low and pleasant, as she came towards his table. ‘Richard Vincent.’

  ‘How did you know me?’ she asked as they shook hands.

  ‘Chrissie’s description was very accurate.’

  ‘Of you, too.’

  They both laughed.

  ‘Chrissie’s given us this table,’ Richard went on, pulling out a chair for Roz with a display of the good manners Flo so much admired. ‘Though I can’t see her at the moment.’

  ‘Gone to fetch orders, I expect.’ Roz’s gaze was going over the people at the tables, talking, chattering, all at ease, as she was not. Of course, she knew the café well enough. Knew it was popular with city workers during the day and those who liked an inexpensive meal out in the evening, and pleasant enough for both Chrissie and Flo to want to keep on working there, in spite of the brooding presence of Mrs Abbot, the stately, hawk-nosed manageress, who was patrolling the tables now, smiling at the customers but keeping a sharp watch on the progress of their meals.

  Ah, here at last came Chrissie, flushed with the heat as she walked through the swing doors at the back of the café, carrying a loaded tray to another table, her eyes lighting up when she saw Roz sitting with Richard.

  ‘Oh, Roz, grand you could come!’ she cried as soon as she was free to reach their table. ‘And you’ve met Richard?’

  ‘Yes, Chrissie, we’ve met,’ he said easily. ‘Now we want our menus. Don’t look so scared – we’re customers. You’ve a right to take our orders.’

  ‘Oh, I know, but here’s Mrs Abbot—’

  ‘Good evening, Mr Vincent, good evening, Miss Rainey. Nice to see you both here,’ said the manageress. ‘And you have the menus? That’s excellent. We have some specials tonight – we’ve been so lucky with our deliveries. I can really recommend the steak pie.’

  ‘Aye, it’s good,’ Chrissie chimed, taking out her notebook. ‘Shall I say two?’

  ‘It’s so warm tonight, I’d just like the egg mayonnaise salad,’ said Roz, reading the menu for herself, but Richard said he’d try the pie, he not being a salad man.

  ‘Very good.’ Mrs Abbot, collecting their menus, gave a small, pinched smile. ‘Now, I’ll leave Chrissie to see to your orders. Enjoy your meal.’

  ‘Egg mayonnaise salad,’ Richard said softly when they were alone. ‘More like egg salad cream, but I daresay it’ll be all right.’

  ‘You’re eating here, anyway,’ remarked Roz.

  ‘Chrissie’s idea. I normally just come for lunch, but she was keen for us to meet and thought you’d find it easier in the evening.’ His gaze was steady on her face. ‘What do you think of it, then?’

  ‘Café Sunshine?’

  ‘No, her idea for us to meet like this.’

  ‘She’d have liked you to come to the flat.’ Roz’s gaze was as direct as his. ‘But you didn’t agree.’

  ‘I was thinking of your mother. She works hard enough here as it is.’

  ‘Well, now that we’ve met anyway I’d like to say that I’m very glad to meet you, Richard. I’ve heard a lot about you.’

  ‘And I, you. The bright one of the family, I’m told. You work in Tarrel’s law firm. They’ve a very good reputation.’

  ‘I‘m not a lawyer; I work in the property department.’

  ‘Oh, I know. Mad on houses, Chrissie says. Unfortunately, I’m not ready to buy yet, though my father – he’s an accountant – says you can’t go wrong with bricks and mortar, and my sisters both have properties.’

  ‘Oh, you have sisters?’

  ‘Two, both married; one in Peebles, one in London.’

  ‘But your father’s in Edinburgh?’

  ‘Oh, yes, both parents have lived here for years. They have a house in the Grange.’

  ‘I see,’ said Roz, who knew the price of houses in the Grange. ‘Are you renting something, then?’

  ‘No, I’m living at home at present.’ He gave a slightly mocking smile. ‘Anything else you’d like to know, Roz?’

  She flushed, looking down at her knife and fork, and let a silence fall which was eventually broken by Richard.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t mind talking about myself, anyway.’

  She looked up to meet those dark eyes of his which still told her nothing, in spite of his apologetic words. Impenetrable – that was the only way to describe them. Were they his screen against the world? Would you ever know a man like this? With a sudden inner rush she was reminded of Jamie’s candid gaze, so open, so friendly, and knew that her view of Richard was made by contrast transparently clear. She didn’t like him. He was hiding something. Was it to do with his intentions – or lack of them – towards her sister?

  ‘I didn’t mean to seem to be interrogating you,’ she said after a pause.

  ‘I’ve said I don’t mind.’ He leaned back in his chair, raising his hands, and looked at her as if he could read her thoughts. ‘I’ve nothing to hide.’

  ‘And I am Chrissie’s sister.’

  ‘Of course. I take your point.’ He straightened up. ‘But talking of Chrissie – here come our orders. Poor girl, how hard she works!’

  ‘I wish she had another job,’ Roz said quickly. ‘She needn’t be a waitress, but she never looks for anything else.’

  Of course, the truth was Chrissie was only waiting to get married, but that was not something to be said to her young man.

  ‘One steak pie!’ Chrissie cried, her eyes radiant. ‘One egg mayonnaise!’

  ‘Here, let me help you,’ said Richard, leaping to his feet and unloading her tray. ‘There we are, all shipshape, except that you should be eating with us, Chrissie.’

  ‘I never eat with you here,’ she said fondly. ‘And I want you and Roz to have a nice chat, just the two of you.’

  ‘Why, I think we’ve had that,’ said Roz. ‘I won’t stay late – Ma could do with company, I expect.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll have a sweet, Roz!’

  ‘I think I’ll just have coffee after this.’

  ‘I was expecting to take you home with Chrissie,’ Richard remarked, beginning to eat. ‘Sure you won’t have a pud? They’re not bad here.’

  Roz shook her head, saying she’d be quite happy with just her salad, and longed now to be away, finished with this sparring match she saw herself having with Richard. Somehow, he’d guessed that she was trying to decide whether she could trust him with her younger sister, and had decided not to make it easy for her, though she couldn’t really point to anything he’d said that should make her think that. All the same, she did think it, and now just wanted to go home. Where of course she would have to face Ma – just wait for the interrogation there!

  ‘I’d better go,’ Chrissie murmured, ‘Mrs Abbot’s got her eye on me. Roz, I’ll see you at home. Glad you’ve met Richard, though. That was what I wanted.’

  ‘I’m glad, too,’ said Roz, her eyes meeting his, expecting no message and receiving none. Yet, later, as they both stood up and shook hands in farewell, she was as certain as before that he knew just what was in her mind. Opening her bag, she took out her purse.

  ‘Please put that away, this is on me,’ he said at once, and laughed. ‘I think I can run to an egg mayonnaise for you, Roz.’

  ‘And don’t forget, I can get a discount for my family,’ put in Chrissie.

  ‘Better and better! Seriously, Roz, I’m very pleased to have met you. Sorry you can’t stay.’

  There was a slightly awkward pause as Roz looked from one to the other of the two faces before her, knowing that they were thinking this had been no ordinary meeting but some sort of test for Richard. Had he passed? would be their question. But how much did Richard care?

  Finally, Roz made her goodbyes again and got herself out of the Café Sunshine to make her way home, where she must decide what to say to Flo.

  ‘Roz, you’re back!’ cried Flo. ‘How did it go, then? How did you like Richard? So handsome, eh?’

  ‘Very handsome,’ Roz rep
lied, taking a chair and pulling off her smart shoes to rest her feet. ‘Oh, yes, he’s just what Chrissie said.’

  What else could she say to her mother? Richard was handsome, a perfect gentleman, and so on, but she, Roz, didn’t like him. Why didn’t she like him? Because she felt he wasn’t right for Chrissie. Because – oh, God, she didn’t trust him. How could she say all that to her mother without upsetting her? Without risking – well, Roz knew what she’d be risking. Yet she couldn’t say she was happy about him, could she? ‘Like a cup of tea?’ she asked brightly.

  ‘Yes, in a minute. Tell me about Richard first. Did you really like him?’

  ‘Well …’ Roz cleared her throat. ‘He’s very nice, very well-mannered, but I’m not sure he’s right for Chrissie.’

  Flo’s eyes widened. ‘Whatever do you mean? He’s perfect for Chrissie. Why, he’s a catch, Roz, you canna deny it. He comes from a nice family, he’s a professional man and could give her a wonderful life! Why would he not be right for Chrissie?’

  ‘Because she wants to get married and he might not.’ Seeing the look on her mother’s face, Roz said hurriedly, ‘Of course, I could be wrong.’

  ‘You could,’ Flo said coldly. ‘Are you sure you’re not a wee bit envious, Roz? That Chrissie’s found someone like Richard and you’ve not?’

  ‘Ma, what a thing to say!’ Roz cried, leaping up. ‘I’d never be envious of Chrissie, only happy for her if she found the right man. And maybe she has – maybe I just don’t know him well enough. Look, I’ll put the kettle on.’

  All she wanted now, as she made the tea, was to back pedal on what she’d said and take the anxious look from her mother’s face before there was real trouble. Heavens, she’d been a fool, eh? Opening her big mouth like that.

  ‘It’s all right, Ma,’ she said comfortingly as she brought over the tea. ‘I’ve probably got it all wrong and Richard is the one for Chrissie. Men can be difficult to read, eh? Don’t worry, anyway. Chrissie knows what she’s doing.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Flo agreed, sipping her tea. ‘We can leave it to Chrissie, eh? And I’m sorry I said – you know – about you being envious. I know you’ve got your own ambitions. You’re not worried about not having a young man.’

  ‘That’s right, Ma,’ said Roz, relieved. ‘I’m not worried at all.’

  Twenty

  When Jamie arrived back at the property department on Monday morning, he brought Roz a present.

  ‘For you,’ he said, bowing low and putting into her hands a large paper bag containing something that felt soft – even crumbly. She was very intrigued.

  ‘Why, Jamie, whatever is it?’ Roz was blushing deeply as she continued to hold the bag.

  ‘Come on, it’s just something to eat. Why don’t you have a look at it?’

  Rather gingerly, she drew the soft lump out of the bag and unwrapped it, then raised her wide eyes to Jamie’s. ‘It’s a cheese?’

  ‘Yes, a cheese. It’s called Kelder White.’ He laughed at her look. ‘Why so astonished? Cheeses are still made locally today and some of ’em are a damn sight better than that dreary stuff you told me you had at lunchtime. So, I thought you’d like to try one from my home town.’

  ‘Why, Jamie, I don’t know what to say! It’s such a kind thought, to bring me this, and it really is just what I wanted!’ Her blush fading, her grey eyes were sparkling as she looked up at him. ‘Thank you very much. I’ll put it in the staffroom, eh? There’s a little larder cupboard there.’

  ‘Fine. And let me know what you think of it this afternoon.’

  As she moved to the door, holding the cheese, she looked back, aware that he was still watching. ‘But how was your weekend? I never asked.’

  ‘Very pleasant. I really enjoyed being home, but now I’m glad to be back here.’

  ‘And your mother was well?’

  ‘Very well. Cooking as though there was an army in the house, instead of just me. She always thinks men need hot food on the hour, or they’ll collapse!’

  ‘My mother’s a bit the same.’

  They stood for a moment or two, exchanging glances, then Roz hurried away to the staffroom and Jamie, sighing deeply, sat down at his desk and looked at the letters she’d opened for him.

  Their work that day was confined to the department, with Jamie busy meeting more clients than usual, most encouraged by the summer weather to rush into moving, one way or another, while Roz had an extra load of particulars to type and post out, as well as continually answering the phone. Even so, lunchtimes were still lunchtimes and when Jamie came back from his, Roz was able to tell him how much she and Norma had enjoyed his Kelder White cheese.

  ‘Oh, such a treat!’ she told him. ‘To have something different and with such a lovely taste! Can’t thank you enough.’

  ‘What’s a piece of cheese?’ he asked, smiling. ‘Not exactly a luxury item.’

  ‘Why that’s just what it is! It’s real luxury, to have something nice to eat.’

  She didn’t add that she’d had to put up with a lot of conjecture from Norma on why Mr Shield had brought Roz a cheese from the Borders, which she’d managed to dampen down by being non-commital until Norma’s questions had dried up. Pity she’d had to eat the cheese at lunchtime, but if she hadn’t, the whole point of the gift would have been lost, and she didn’t want that – not when she’d been so touched by Jamie’s thought.

  It seemed he’d had another, though whether it was anything to do with Roz or not she didn’t know, for after he’d begun with the words, ‘I was thinking,’ the telephone rang, and he stopped.

  Someone wanted to make an appointment for a valuation, Roz told him, before moving to her own office where she thought he’d follow. When he didn’t, she shrugged as she rolled paper into her machine. What had he been thinking, then? She would never know at this rate, would she? It couldn’t have been important, anyway. When she popped her head round his door there was no sign of him, and she guessed he’d gone to continue his other work. Returning to her desk, she felt ill at ease, still being unsure of whether he had special feelings for her or not, or indeed whether she had any real reason for wondering if he had. And what about her own feelings? She answered that question by typing as fast as possible until it was time to get to the post.

  It was almost five o’clock before she saw Jamie again when he came back to the department, saying he’d been with Miss Calder who had been showing him the firm’s legal archives – very knowledgeable lady, eh?

  ‘You didn’t come for any tea and I didn’t know where you were,’ Roz remarked.

  ‘Sorry about that. I had a cup with Miss Calder.’

  ‘Oh, well—’

  Roz was turning to leave as he stood watching.

  ‘I’ll just say goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight? The sun’s cracking the flags still.’

  ‘Goodbye, then.’

  ‘That’s even worse.’ Jamie laughed. ‘Listen, Roz, I was wondering … It’s such a nice evening … Couldn’t we have a drink together?’

  She stopped in the act of picking up her bag and stared, her lips parted, her expression stunned. ‘A drink?’ Even to her own ears, she sounded incredulous.

  ‘Yes, a drink.’ Jamie was shaking his head. ‘You might be looking at me as though I’ve suggested an orgy, but that’s all I’m offering – a drink at the Adelphi in George Street. Don’t know if you know it, but it’s very pleasant.’

  ‘It’s kind of you to ask me, Jamie.’

  Roz was hesitant – one part of her thrilled, the other wondering what those at Tarrel’s would say if she and Jamie were seen going out together. ‘The only thing is, I’m not sure if it’d be a good idea.’

  ‘Not a good idea? Why not? It’s just two colleagues having a drink after work.’

  ‘Mr Banks might not approve.’

  ‘Mr Banks?’ Jamie groaned. ‘In other words, God? I tell you, Roz, I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever get used to working in this place. No first names, no drinks with f
emale staff – what does he expect to happen if we’re a bit more friendly?’

  ‘It’s just the way things are, Jamie.’

  ‘Well, my offer still holds. I like you, Roz. I want to be able to talk to you outside a work situation. Be honest – what’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Nothing, really. Well, there wouldn’t be, if things were different.’

  ‘But you like me, don’t you? You wouldn’t mind spending time with me?’

  ‘I do like you, Jamie. I wish I could spend time with you.’

  ‘Look—’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We’re wasting time. You probably don’t want to be late home, so let’s away.’

  ‘You mean, still go to the hotel?’

  ‘Sure I do. Let’s take the risk, eh? Hell, live dangerously. Why not, for once?’

  She laughed. ‘Why not?’

  They moved together to the door, where Jamie suddenly stopped.

  ‘We can go separately, if you like? I don’t want you to be worrying, Roz.’ His face was rueful. ‘So much for living dangerously!’

  ‘Might be better,’ she agreed. ‘Norma’s probably still around – if she sees us together she’ll never let me forget it.’

  ‘OK. What’s that other saying? Discretion is the better part of valour? You leave first and we’ll meet in the hotel entrance.’

  But they were living dangerously – Roz, feeling like an excited conspirator and not looking back as she walked ahead to Tarrel’s front door, called cheerfully to Norma at Reception, ‘Goodnight, Norma, I’ve got to run!’

  ‘Goodnight, Roz!’ cried Norma. ‘See you tomorrow!’

  And away went Roz, walking fast, to George Street and the Adelphi Hotel.

  Twenty-One

  The Adelphi Hotel was not only pleasant, it was smart; a frequently written-up venue in the glossy magazines for dinners, receptions or cocktails for the well-to-do. Certainly not a place Roz had ever been to, but was fascinated to see, while at the same time worrying that she wasn’t wearing the right clothes.

  ‘Wear something smart,’ Chrissie had ordered for the meeting with Richard, and Roz couldn’t help wishing that she’d had the same advice before coming to the Adelphi. Why on earth had Jamie chosen it?