by Lily Baxter
Josie and Walter were now officially a couple. Meg had the satisfaction, as well as the occasional stab of jealousy, of seeing them unashamedly together. Walter had given notice at his digs in January and moved in with Josie. At times Meg found their obvious happiness almost unbearable and she was glad to escape to the shop. There was only so much she could take of walking into the drawing room and finding them wrapped in a passionate embrace, or seeing them wandering hand in hand amongst the daffodils and cherry blossom in the garden.
When the finals results were posted, Walter telephoned the shop immediately telling Meg that he had graduated with honours. With the money that his father had promised him if he did well, he intended to go out straight away to buy Josie an engagement ring. When Meg returned home at lunchtime, Josie was sporting the solitaire diamond as though it were the Koh-i-noor. Walter said ruefully that he could not afford the magnifying glass needed to appreciate the stone fully.
When they were alone for a moment, Josie confided in Meg that she had hidden away all the expensive jewellery that Paul had given her during their marriage, but that Walter’s ring meant more to her than the Crown jewels. Meg hugged her and congratulated Walter as he came back into the room with a bottle of champagne and three glasses balanced precariously on a tray. She was happy for them, but, as soon as she could without looking too obvious, she slipped away and walked back to the shop to open up for the afternoon.
She was seated behind the desk, not really thinking about anything in particular, when the doorbell jangled and she looked up with her practised smile. ‘Good afternoon.’
‘Hello. I wish to buy a dress for the evenings.’ The woman spoke with an attractive hint of a foreign accent. She was young and strikingly beautiful in a dark exotic way that would make anyone turn and stare at her. It was as if a bird of paradise had suddenly walked into the shop making everything around her seem pale and dull by comparison. Meg settled her client in one of the armchairs and went through to the stockroom to bring out an armful of dresses, hanging them on a gilded dress rack
‘You may like something here. If not, I have more I can show you.’ Meg selected a bronze satin dress and held it up so that the material caught the light. ‘Is this what you had in mind, or would you like something a bit less formal?’
‘I like that very much.’
Meg couldn’t help staring and thinking that she had never seen such large, lustrous eyes. They were so dark that the iris and the pupil seemed to merge into one.
‘I am on my honeymoon. We only stop briefly in Oxford and then we go on to London. My husband has business there.’
‘This gown wouldn’t be out of place anywhere in London. If you would care to step into the fitting room?’
There was no need to flatter this customer. Her figure was perfect and the dress could have been made for her. Meg stood back and waited for her decision.
‘I like it very much and I think my husband will too. But I would like to try that one as well.’ She pointed to a gown in gold and rose shot silk, quite similar to the one which Meg had worn at the May Ball.
‘Yes, of course.’ Meg helped her to take off the bronze satin gown and slipped outside to hang it on the rack. When she stepped back into the cubicle it was as if the last six years had melted away and she was staring at herself in the gold creation. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile. ‘That looks lovely too, madam.’
‘The choice is difficult. You have so many beautiful things.’
‘I’m very flattered that you decided to buy here instead of in London.’
‘I was advised to come here. Rayner said there is no other place to buy gowns.’
Meg’s fingers froze into talons and her heart kicked like a mule against her ribs, momentarily robbing her of speech. Her eyes misted and she had to struggle against a primitive desire to claw the perfect back exposed by the low-cut evening dress.
Blissfully unaware of the storm of emotion she had raised, the woman smiled. ‘I am torn. The choice is painful.’
‘They both suit you perfectly.’ Meg’s tongue seemed to have swollen to twice its size and threatened to choke her. ‘Have you come from far away?’
‘I’m Brazilian and my husband is German. But perhaps I should not say so. I don’t think you English like the Germans too much now.’ Her laugh was melodious, like the tinkling of a wind chime. She allowed the gown to slide to the floor, exposing her voluptuous curves. ‘I must take them both.’
‘And your name, madam?’
‘Luiza.’ She gave a self-conscious giggle. ‘I am not yet used to my married name. Luiza Weiss.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Meg burst in through the front door, almost knocking Walter over in her hurry.
‘Meg, you’re home early.’
She pushed past him and headed for the stairs.
‘Wait, please. I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘I don’t want to know.’ She stormed upstairs to her bedroom, hurling herself down upon the bed and wrapping the pillow around her head. She did not cry; there were no tears left. She had lived through the most traumatic period of the war and had coped with everything that had been thrown at her, but this was the ultimate betrayal by the man she loved more than life itself. It was something she had feared but had never really thought would happen. If he had truly loved her, Rayner would have come looking for her. Nothing would have kept him away. He would not have sailed off to Brazil leaving her to face the world alone.
Luiza Weiss. The name echoed in her mind; a death knell to hope and happiness. How could any man resist Luiza with her beautiful face and perfect body, all curves like a modern-day Venus, made for love and loving. Meg groaned out loud and stuffed the sheet into her mouth.
She must have fallen asleep, as it was growing dark and someone was sitting on the edge of the bed, calling her name. Meg opened her eyes and found herself looking into Josie’s worried face.
‘I didn’t mean to wake you, but I was worried.’
‘Go away.’
‘I will, but I’ve brought you some supper on a tray. You should try to eat something, Meg dear.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘What happened to upset you like this?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
Josie was silent for a moment. ‘I don’t understand. How did you know? Walter says he didn’t get a chance to tell you.’
‘Tell me what?’ Meg turned her face towards the wall. Her head ached and there was a nasty taste in her mouth. She wanted to be alone.
‘That Rayner came to the house today.’
Meg jackknifed into a sitting position. ‘What?’
‘He asked after you. Walter told him that you were here in Oxford.’
‘He can go to hell.’
‘Meg, darling, this isn’t like you. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. ‘He’s married, Josie. His bloody wife came to the shop today to buy evening dresses. They’re on their honeymoon.’
Josie’s eyes opened wide and her mouth formed a perfect circle. She shook her head. ‘He didn’t say anything about that to Walter.’
‘He wouldn’t, would he? But it’s true, she told me so herself.’
‘But Walter said …’
‘Leave me alone. I don’t want to talk about it.’ Meg buried her face in the mound of bedclothes covering her knees, but she felt awful the moment Josie closed the door softly behind her. Poor Josie, it wasn’t her fault. Talk about shooting the messenger. She flung off the blankets and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She felt suffocated and she needed air. She went over to the window and opened it, leaning out and breathing deeply. Why did he have to bring his bride here of all places? Had he done it deliberately to wound her? A small remnant of common sense told her that Rayner could have had no idea that she was in Oxford, but she thrust it aside. Once she started to be reasonable she would begin to forgive him
and make excuses for his callous behaviour. There was no excuse for what he had done, none at all. Maybe he had come asking after her in order to salve his own conscience.
She paced up and down, her bare feet moving silently across the soft contours of the Chinese carpet. She stopped for a moment to stare angrily at the evening gown hanging outside the wardrobe. Josie had persuaded her that she ought to attend the May Ball as it would do her good to go out and mingle with young people instead of staying in night after night, listening to the wireless or with her head stuck in a novel. She had actually worked up some enthusiasm for the outing, but now everything was ruined. Rayner’s timing couldn’t have been worse, she thought bitterly, fingering the blue slipper satin. Their pledge to meet on the Folly Bridge now seemed ridiculous and farcical. Would he tell the woman he had married about her? Meg shook her head, of course he wouldn’t. She was in his past now. The truth was that Luiza was his future and the truth hurt like hell.
When Meg woke up next morning her head ached miserably and she felt ill. Instead of rising early as she normally did on a working day, she lay in bed with her eyes closed until Josie put her head round the door.
‘Are you feeling better this morning?’
‘I feel awful.’
Josie came in with a rush and sat down on the side of the bed, laying her cool hand on Meg’s forehead. ‘You don’t look well, darling, and you feel awfully hot. Maybe I should call the doctor.’
‘I’m all right. Please don’t fuss.’
Josie pursed her lips and frowned. ‘You didn’t eat your supper. Would you like some breakfast?’
‘No.’ Meg bit her lip. It wasn’t Josie’s fault. ‘Sorry, I mean no thanks. I’m not hungry.’
Josie stood up, looking at Meg with sympathetic eyes and a furrowed brow. ‘You’ve had a shock, darling. Better stay in bed for today. I’ll manage the shop.’
‘Weren’t you going to the wholesalers in London today?’
‘That can wait. It’s more important that you get well.’
Meg raised herself on her elbow. Her head was thumping and she felt sick but she was not going to hide away. ‘A couple of aspirin and I’ll be fine. You go to London as you planned.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely. In fact I’ve a good mind to go and see Rayner and tell him to his face that I think he’s a cheating bastard.’
‘Darling, that’s not like you.’
Rising from her bed, Meg reached for her housecoat, taking care to move slowly so that the demons with picks that were hammering at her temples were not disturbed. ‘I’m going downstairs to take something for my headache and then I’ll go to work.’
Josie followed her. ‘Take your tablets and then I’ve got a better idea. We’ll shut the shop for the day. After all, it is early closing, and I doubt if I’ll go bankrupt losing a morning’s takings.’
Meg paused on the wide oak staircase. ‘Are you sure?’
Josie nodded and suddenly, as if she couldn’t hold it back any longer, she chuckled excitedly. ‘You can come to London with me and help choose my wedding outfit.’
‘You’re getting married?’ Meg missed a step and only saved herself from falling by clutching the banister rail.
‘It was supposed to be a secret until the day. We want to get married very quietly in the register office.’
‘And you weren’t going to tell me?’
‘Of course we were, but we don’t want a fuss.’
‘And when is the wedding?’
Josie pulled a face and giggled. ‘The morning after the May Ball.’
‘But that’s the day after tomorrow.’
‘I know. It’s fun, isn’t it?’
‘Josie, you’re an incurable romantic.’
Josie’s smile faded. ‘I’m sorry, Meg. I’m being totally selfish.’
‘Nonsense,’ Meg said with a lift of her chin. ‘To hell with Rayner Weiss, I say. We’ve got a wedding to organise and we’ll go to London and buy you a dress that will make Walter’s head spin.’
Rayner had been trying to reach her by phone all day, so Walter told Meg when she and Josie eventually returned from London, laden with the results of their shopping. He handed her a phone number where Rayner could be reached. Meg tore it up and went to bed. Next day Josie insisted that Meg was not needed at the boutique. Meg argued at first and then, relieved to have time to herself, she agreed reluctantly, promising to spend the day quietly preparing the shop accounts for the accountant.
The telephone rang several times but Meg ignored it. She shut herself in Paul’s old study and applied herself to the books, finishing late in the afternoon and then luxuriating in a hot bath until Walter and Josie returned home in time to change for the ball.
Meg lay on her bed with her wet hair wrapped in a towel and her eyes closed. She could hear Josie’s excited chatter and peals of laughter and Walter’s deeper tones as they splashed around in the bath together. They sounded like a couple of children getting ready for a party, and Meg’s intention of excusing herself from accompanying them to the ball suddenly seemed selfish. Reluctantly she raised herself, did her hair and makeup and slipped the cool satin gown over her head. She smoothed the material down over her slim hips and flat stomach, smiling a little as she remembered the last time she had dressed for a May Ball in this very room. Coming from a sheltered background, she had been little more than a child then; a girl on the brink of her adult life. She sighed. She was no longer that girl. She was a woman tried by love and war. She squared her shoulders. No man was going to get the better of Marguerite Colivet. She was not going to mope for her lost love or give in to despair. The war might be over but her personal battle had just begun.
*
It was a quarter to midnight and the ball was in full swing. Walter and Josie had done their best to include her in their celebrations but Meg was struggling to enjoy herself. Everyone around her was paired off, dancing, flirting, drinking champagne and having a wonderful time. She did her best to join in, but the ice-cold feeling in the pit of her stomach had grown worse as the evening wore on, and no matter how much champagne she drank it did not seem to have achieved the desired effect. She sat quietly watching Walter and Josie waltzing together, totally lost in a world of their own. Suddenly she could stand it no longer, and she scribbled a note on a paper napkin telling them that her headache had returned and that she was going home. Like a modern Cinderella, she left the party and ran the few hundred yards to where she had parked Josie’s little Austin Seven. She had insisted on driving them as it gave her the chance of an early escape. She gathered her dress into a bunch above her knees, settled herself down in the driver’s seat, pulled out the choke, switched on the engine and pressed the starter button. The car coughed and spluttered and the engine purred into life on the second attempt; Meg thrust it into reverse and as it shot backwards there was a loud hiss and she felt the front nearside wheel deflate with a bump. She climbed out of the car and prodded the flat tyre with the toe of her satin slipper. There was no one about to offer help. She had not thought to bring money for a taxi, and she did not want to drag Walter away from the ball and spoil his evening. There was only one thing for it. She bundled her skirts up around her waist and kicked off her dancing shoes. She had learnt how to change a tyre, but she had never done it in the dark and certainly not in a long gown. It took her nearly an hour as the wheel nuts were tight and it needed a huge effort to loosen each one, but eventually she secured the spare wheel and wiped her hands on the travel rug that Josie always kept neatly folded on the back seat. Her dress was streaked with oil and her hands and forearms were covered in dirt and grease, but she climbed back into the car and started the engine.
She had intended to go straight home, but on an impulse she turned the car in the opposite direction. When she reached St Aldates she turned right into Thames Street and drew the Austin to a shuddering halt. She shivered in spite of the warm evening. Suddenly the most important thing in the world was to be o
n Folly Bridge at midnight. She knew that Rayner would not come; he would be too busy making love to the beautiful, sexy Luiza. All Meg knew was that she had to be there. There was no logical reason for it; she just knew it was something she must do, if only to lay a ghost. She picked up her skirts and ran towards Folly Bridge like a lemming about to leap over a cliff.
The silence of the night was unbroken, apart from the gentle sound of the river lapping against the stanchions of the bridge and the tip-tapping of her high heels on the pavement. There was no one in sight and she stopped in the middle of the bridge, leaning against the parapet. A faint breeze rustled the drooping branches of the willows as they dipped their fronds into the oily darkness of the water. The fruity damp earth smell of the riverbank and water meadows took Meg back to the day when they had punted downstream. She might have drowned if Rayner had not dived in to save her. But he was not here now and if she were to throw herself into that tempting swirl of watery oblivion he would know nothing about it until he read it in the morning newspaper.
‘Are you all right, miss?’
She spun round and found herself staring at the buttoned tunic of a policeman.
‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’ His face looked ghostly in the pale light of the street lamps. ‘It’s not a good idea for a young woman to be out alone this late at night.’
Meg licked her dry lips and leaned her back against the parapet, realising suddenly what an odd sight she must look. ‘Thanks but I’m fine, constable. I just needed some fresh air.’
He took a step forward, advancing warily as if she might fling herself over the edge at any moment. ‘Come along, miss. I know it’s high jinks time at the colleges but don’t you think you’d be better off at home?’
Suddenly the whole thing seemed so ridiculous that Meg wanted to giggle. ‘Oh no, you’ve got the wrong idea. I wasn’t going to do anything stupid.’
