Rachel Lindsay - Love and Lucy Granger

by Rachel Lindsay

  ' I studied photography with my father.' She wondered whether to say any more and then decided to take the plunge. ' Actually he Used some of your pictures for a book he was editing on Greek drama.'

  ' Good lord!' Barry Davis looked at her in surprise. ' So that's why your name rang a bell. Then Professor Granger must be your father.'

  ' He was,' Lucy said quietly. ' He died a year ago.'

  ' I'm sorry. I should have known, but I was in the States most of last year.' He motioned to her to start eating. ' What do you do for Industrial Holdings?'

  She laughed at his phrasing. ' It would be more apt to ask what they do for me! They pay my rent and keep me in pocket money. I'm a typist in the Publicity Department.'

  ' Isn't that an unusual job for a girl like you?'

  ' I wasn't trained for anything,' she said quietly. ' I used to help my father with his books.'

  ' That was a highly skilled job, though.'

  'It's not the sort of work that's in demand. I could have got a similar job with one of the other professors in the University, but after my father died I didn't want to do the same thing for anyone else.'

  The man in front of her nodded understandingly. ' I still think you're wasted here.'

  ' Don't worry about it,' she said drily. ' After tonight I won't be here! Mr Harlow was my partner in the Paul Jones and I was rather rude to him.'

  ' Rude to Paul? You're joking.'

  ' I wish I were.' She sighed. ' He rubbed me up the wrong way and I lost my temper. I think he's the most supercilious snob I've ever met.'

  Barry Davis shook his head. ' You couldn't be more wrong. Paul and I were at Oxford together and I can assure you he's neither supercilious nor a snob. He happens to be shy, though, and he can only unbend with people he knows.'

  Lucy did not reply and he went on: 'Still, if you want another job come and see me. I could do with a photographic model.'

  ' I've never done that sort of work.'

  ' I know. That's why I'd like to use you. I'm planning an exhibition at the end of the year and I want to do some portraits. You'd be ideal. You're unlike most of the girls one sees around today. With that hair and alabaster skin you'd have been a natural for the Pre- Raphaelite School.'

  ' You're not a bad hand at compliments yourself,' she smiled.

  ' I'm serious, Lucy—I may call you Lucy, mayn't I?'

  She nodded and he took a card from his pocket and handed it to her. ' Put this in your bag and think over what I've said. When you've made up your mind either way get in touch with me.' Pushing back his chair, he walked over to the wall and picked up a camera. ' Now if you'll excuse me I must get down to business.'

  ' Photographing the Managing Director?' she quipped.

  ' No, taking fashion pictures. The next entertainment for all you lucky people is a fashion show by Nino Merton. He's Paul's discovery, by the way.'

  ' Mr Harlow has. a finger in a great many pies,' she said drily.

  ' Successful fingers too! That's why the shareholders love him.' Barry touched her lightly on the shoulder. ' Be seeing you.'

  Left alone in the alcove, Lucy wondered whether Barry Davis's offer had been a serious one. Like most girls she had seen herself in a variety of careers, but never had she considered photographic modelling. Still, she had not envisaged working in an office either…

  Lost in speculation, she was taken by surprise when the lights were lowered, and she looked up to see a spotlight shining on to a newly erected catwalk. An elegant woman was standing in front of a microphone on the stage, a fashion card in her hand, and as she called out the first name the curtains behind her parted and a model sauntered forward in a wisp of scarlet chiffon.

  As one breathtaking dress followed another, Lucy understood why Paul Harlow had backed Nino Merton, for there was no doubt he was going to make a name for himself in the world of haute couture. Although she did not usually bother about clothes, she found herself studying them critically and indulged in a daydream where money was no object and she could buy anything she wanted.

  All too soon the collection came to an end and while the catwalk was being dismantled, she followed the crowd out to the cloakroom. Inevitably a long queue had formed and she. decided to return later.

  'It's an awful crush, isn't it?' a lilting voice said. 'Come with me. I know where we can get some privacy.'

  Lucy turned, discomfited to see that the speaker was Cynthia Harlow. 'That's all right,' she stammered. ' I'll come back later.'

  ' Don't be silly. Follow me.'

  With an arrogance born of the knowledge that she was always obeyed, the girl walked down the corridor and descended a flight of stairs. Here the walls were panel-lined and there were carpets underfoot, and Lucy knew this must be the floor which housed the directors' offices.

  Cynthia Harlow stopped in front of a mahogany door, unlocked it with a little key which she took from her bag and led the way into a beautifully equipped cloakroom.

  ' I really shouldn't be here,' Lucy protested.

  'Why not? You're with me, so you've nothing to worry about. Anyway, I saw you having supper with Barry, so that makes you a friend of the family! Incidentally, I'm Cindy Harlow. What's your name?'

  Lucy told her, and side by side they stood in front of the mirror and repaired their make-up. Cindy chattered away with infectious gaiety and within five minutes Lucy felt she had known her for as many years. How different she was from her condescending brother!

  Still talking, they returned to the top floor, but as they reached the canteen Cindy suddenly stopped and clutched her throat.

  ' My pearls! I've lost them.' She turned towards the stairs, but Lucy stopped her.

  ' I don't think you dropped them in the cloakroom. I didn't notice you wearing them at all.'

  ' Are you sure?'

  Lucy hesitated, not liking to say that at the time she had considered it a mark in Cindy's favour that she had not been wearing jewellery of any kind. However, she had already been rude to one member of the Harlow family and that was quite enough.

  ' Maybe you lost them when you were having supper,' she suggested.

  ' Let's go and see.'

  Turning left, Cindy led the way into a deserted side room littered with empty plates and glasses. Lucy guessed this must have been a private supper room set aside for Paul Harlow and his party, and she could not help being flattered to know that Barry Davis had cut himself off from his friends in order to eat with her.

  Cindy began to hunt agitatedly among the chairs and tables, scrabbling wildly on the floor with disregard for her magnificent dress.

  ' I don't know what I'll do if I can't find them. They're terribly valuable and Paul will be furious.'

  ' Aren't they insured?'

  ' Yes, of course. But that won't stop him being angry. He's always on at me for being careless, but I can't help it. I guess it's my nature.'

  Her voice rose sharply and Lucy saw she was pale with fright.

  ' I'm sure your brother will understand,' she said soothingly. ' Lots of people have a propensity to lose things and there's nothing they can do about it.'

  I That's what I tell Paul, but it only makes him angrier. He says that as long as I know my own character I should guard against it and be doubly careful.'

  Lucy bit back a sharp answer. It was just the sort of ice-cold logic she would have expected from a man like him. What a tyrant he must be to engender such fear in a lighthearted girl like Cindy Harlow! She pushed aside a chair with a little movement of anger and as it swung away from the wall her eye was attracted by a gleam of something white at the far side of the buffet table. She pounced on it and let out a yell of triumph.

  ' It's all right, Miss Harlow. I've found them!'

  Cindy flung herself across the room and hugged Lucy exuberantly. ' Oh, you darling, I'll never be able to thank you enough!'

  ' They'd have found them anyway as soon as the room was cleared.'

  ' I know. But meanwhile my evening would have bee
n ruined.'

  With fingers that still trembled the girl clasped the treble row of magnificent matched pearls around her throat and turned her head for Lucy to secure the safety catch.

  ' I expect I forgot to fasten it properly when I was getting dressed,' she said and, as happy as she had been panic-stricken a moment before, she danced across to one of the tables, seized a bottle of wine from an ice- bucket and filled two glasses.

  ' Let's drink a toast to their recovery.'

  Lucy sipped the wine. It was a far finer one than had been served in the main buffet, and as though reading her thoughts, Cindy grinned.

  ' This is from my brother's own cellar.'

  Lucy lowered her eyes. Paul Harlow would never allow his guests to drink the same wine as the common herd. He probably had special food for them too. No doubt that was why they had eaten their supper privately.

  Once more it was as though Cindy divined her thoughts.

  ' Paul toyed with the idea of not having a separate supper room this year, but then he decided against it. He said he felt his employees would relax more easily if he were out of the way.'

  ' I'm surprised he came to the dance at all!'

  ' He considers it a duty. He hates people watching him, you know. I keep telling him he should be used to it by now, but he says it's something he'll never get used to.'

  Lucy smiled uneasily. No matter what she felt about the man himself, it did not seem right for Cindy Harlow to speak of her brother in such a way to someone who worked for him.

  ' We'd better go back to the canteen,' she said quickly. ' I'm sure there's a disappointed dancing partner looking for you.'

  ' And for you.' Cindy laughed suddenly, slyly. ' Barry Davis, perhaps.'

  Lucy blushed and to hide her embarrassment, turned to the door. Taking the hint, Cindy followed. .

  ' I suppose we had better get back or we'll miss the carols. And that's something Paul would never forgive me for.'

  It was not until they were in the corridor that Lucy knew what Cindy Harlow meant, for a group of white- surpliced choirboys, each carrying a lighted taper, was making its slow, majestic way towards the canteen' entrance.

  ' Gosh!' Cindy said. ' I must get back to my table before they start singing.'

  She pushed forward hurriedly and some of the boys moved to one side to let her pass.

  ' I'll see you later,' she called to Lucy, and half turned to wave. As she did so she stumbled against one of the boys. He put up his arm to protect himself and the taper in his hand fell against Cindy. In an instant her skirts began to smoulder and she gave a scream of terror. A couple of the boys ran forward, but Lucy, afraid their surplices would catch alight, shouted for them to keep back. There was no one else in the corridor, for everyone was in the canteen awaiting the entry of the choir, and two boys ran towards the entrance shouting for help. But there was no time to waste, and regardless of her own safety, Lucy began to beat out the flames licking Cindy's dress. The girl was screaming hysterically and, afraid the whole dress would be alight before she could prevent it, Lucy did the only thing possible. With all the strength she possessed she ripped the bodice and pulled the entire net skirt away. Floating tongues of flame fell against her own skirt and before she knew what was happening she felt a burning heat on her skin. Desperately she tried to undo her dress, but she could not reach the fasteners at the back.

  ' Help me!' she called to Cindy, but Cindy stood petrified with shock, and Lucy started to run towards the cloakroom, beating at her skirts. ' Water,' she thought desperately, 'there's water in the cloakroom.' Voices shouted behind her and she was aware of a mass of people running out of the canteen in her direction. She stood swaying, half fainting with pain and the unexpected terror in which she found herself.

  ' It can't be happening to me,' she thought. ' It's too silly, too silly.'

  Then a thick coat was wrapped around her and she was thrown to the ground and enveloped in it. ' Oh!' she screamed, and pain, intense and unbelievable, engulfed her so that she felt she was drowning in it… drowning in a sea of fire that obliterated everything else.

  CHAPTER II

  The scent of roses was heavy in the air and Lucy lay with her eyes closed and remembered the perfumed air of the flower fields around Grasse where she and her father had once spent a happy summer vacation. How hot it had been; the sun a brilliant glare in a bright blue sky, glowing with a fierce harshness that had seemed to burn into her very soul… as it was now burning…

  She writhed in pain and the effort to dispel it forced her eyelids up. But even with her eyes open she still thought she was dreaming, for no familiar surroundings welcomed her, only strange white furniture and white- painted walls. Where were the books and photographs and all the other mementoes of her life? What had happened to the faded rose wallpaper and the worn velvet curtains?

  Without realizing it she must have mumbled aloud, for the sound of her voice, husky and thin, brought a white-gowned figure to her side.

  ' So you've decided to wake up at last,' the nurse said. ' How do you feel?'

  Lucy frowned at the question and tried to sit up. But her limbs, strangely heavy, refused to obey the command of her brain and, panic-stricken, she turned her head from side to side. As she did so she became aware of an enormous basket of long-stemmed yellow roses standing on a small table by the window. Christmas roses… Christmas. In a flash she remembered the staff party, saw again the white-surpliced choirboys, the lighted tapers and Cindy Harlow, her beautiful ball dress alight. Instinctively Lucy looked down at herself, feeling no surprise to see that her hands and arms, placed above the blankets, were swathed in bandages.

  ' I'm in hospital,' she said aloud.

  'That's right,' the nurse smiled. 'The Hartley Nursing Home.'

  Again Lucy tried to move, but her body still refused to respond.

  I'm paralysed!' she cried, her voice rising on a high note of hysteria. ' I can't move my arms or legs.'

  ' Of course you're not paralysed,' the nurse said.

  You're just weak and suffering from shock. Come along, I'll help you to sit up and you can have a drink.'

  Putting her hand beneath Lucy's head, the nurse raised it and held a feeding cup to her lips. Lucy sipped and then allowed herself to be placed back on the pillows. The effort of movement, though slight, had exhausted her, and she longed to sleep. Yet there was still something she had to know.

  ' My burns… Am I scarred?'

  ' No,' the nurse said firmly. ' There might be a few marks, but they'll disappear in a couple of months.'

  Lucy tried to murmur thanks, but even as her lips parted she fell asleep. This time her sleep was undisturbed by dreams and when she awoke again the bloom of dusk was in the room and her friend Meg was sitting on a chair by the side of the bed.

  The two girls stared at one another in silence and then Meg wiped her eyes and forced a grin. ' Happy New Year, Lucy!'

  ' Don't be silly,' Lucy replied, glad to find her voice stronger. ' I haven't had Christmas yet.'

  ' You haven't,' came the dry reply, ' but everyone else has. Just for the record, you slept right through it and it'll be New Year in a couple of days.'

  ' Are you trying to tell me I've been unconscious for a week?' Lucy asked incredulously, and her eyes went to her bandaged arms.

  Meg nodded. ' Your bums were superficial, but you went into severe shock. There's nothing to worry about, though, Mr Harlow's had one of the best .specialists in the country taking care of you.'

  Lucy looked at Meg's face and what she saw there reassured her. ' What about Cindy Harlow?'

  ' She's fine. She was in the nursing home too, but only for a couple of days. You're the one who caught the brunt of it, old girl. Pulling off Miss Harlow's skirt pretty well saved her life, though it didn't do you much good. Still,' she said huskily, ' you're on the mend now, and as soon as they get the bandages off you'll be out of here.'

  Lucy stared round the well-appointed room that seemed more fitting for a
hotel than a nursing home.

  ' Why aren't I in hospital? I can't afford this sort of place.'

  ' Mr Harlow can. And he's paying.'

  ' But why? He had no right to interfere. I don't like being obligated to him.'

  ' For heaven's sake! You saved his sister's life. Don't you understand that?'

  ' Anyone would have done the same,' Lucy said, ' but I don't want to be repaid for it.' She attempted to sit up, but the movement was awkward and she fell back on the pillows again. ' How long will I have to stay here? Tell me the truth, Meg.'

  ' I've been telling you the truth all the time. Probably another ten days or a fortnight. You'll have to rest afterwards, of course.'

  ' I thought you said I wasn't badly burned.'

  ' You weren't,' Meg affirmed. ' But the shock to your system takes some time to get over. If I were you I'd just relax while you're in here. The worst is over and all you have to do is to enjoy being a heroine.'

  Lucy became aware of the baskets of flowers and fruit placed cheek by jowl around the room.

  ' These can't all be for me,' she said huskily. 'Are you sure it isn't the overflow from some film star in the next room?'

  ' As far as Industrial Holdings is concerned you're the star.'

  Lucy's face clouded. ' I hope this isn't more of Mr Harlow's generosity?'

  ' Only some of it.' Meg stood up and went from one bouquet to the other reading off the messages attached to them. As Lucy had expected, the roses and the largest basket of fruit were from Paul Harlow, but there were flowers from Cindy and the girls in the office as well as a sheaf of madonna lilies from Barry Davis.

  'Who's he?' Meg asked.

  'A photographer I met at the party,' she replied, hoping her friend would not notice her blush.

  ' He's written quite a message on his card. Wants to know if you've made up your mind yet.' Meg came closer to the bed. ' What does he mean, or is it too personal for me to ask?'

  ' He doesn't mean what you're thinking,' Lucy said humorously. ' He offered me a job as a photographic model and I promised him I'd think about it.'

  Meg gave an exclamation. ' You don't mean this man is the Barry Davis?'