by Penny Jordan
‘After all,’ she told him calmly, ‘neither of us will have time to waste on domestic drudgery.’
It was true, and before too long Saul was agreeing with Karen that they had made the right decision; that it would not have helped either of them to have to go home at night to such mundane tasks as doing the dishes and playing at house. They both had studying to do, both of them had groups with which they were very involved, a very important part of campus life; it wasn’t enough simply to do well academically—one had to prove that one was socially adept as well. The Americans placed great importance on social address, and Saul had already decided that his best career move lay in getting a job in the States. Not only was the money better, the prospects were as well, which were far more important. He had already discussed this with Karen and she was in complete agreement with him. She intended to go into advertising, and she had already drawn up what she called her attack plan, listing those agencies she most wanted to work for.
She would succeed in her objectives, Saul never doubted that. While not perhaps beautiful, she had something striking about her, something that caught the eye and the mind … a coolness, a stillness, an awareness of her firm resolve and her strong belief in herself.
They made a good couple; everyone said so. Physically they were well matched; two elegant, lean creatures, whose bodies complemented one another, whose desires ran in tandem, and who found nothing wrong in their being together in a relationship that had begun with carefully mapped-out boundaries. There was no question of either one being unfaithful to the other; they had everything they needed in their neat, well defined antiseptic togetherness.
At home in England they might never have met. Karen came from what could be termed a privileged background. There was no money in the family, she told him openly, just a succession of titled and impoverished relations who luckily had had enough influence to get both her and her brothers into decent schools.
‘I have enough maiden great-aunts to form their own convent,’ she had told him once grimly. ‘All victims of the First World War; all living on dreams of what could have been. That is never going to happen to me. I shall never rely on a man to complete my life.’
Saul had praised her foresight, admiring her drive, recognising how alike they were in so many ways.
She had had other lovers before him, but no one who had been important. Her view of sex was that it was as vital to develop a good skill in that as it was in any other activity one wished to undertake. She was a good skier, she rode well, she could converse on virtually any subject with almost anyone she met, all skills which had been honed and practised until they reached the standard she had set for herself. And it was the same with sex.
She complimented Saul on his own expertise, and had no hesitation about telling him what she liked and what she did not like. It was important to her that when they made love she reached a climax, and on those rare occasions when she did not she seemed to blame herself for some lack of ability and purpose, rather than being frustrated and upset because she had been denied physical satisfaction.
There was, Saul recognised, an almost clinical precision about their lovemaking, but he told himself he preferred that to the hot, dangerous excitement he had known with Angelica. He remembered all too well how dangerous that had been, how vulnerable it had made him, how often she had left him aching to tell her how much she meant to him … aching to give her so much more than merely the satisfaction offered by his body.
With Karen it was different. For a start they shared a mutual respect, a mutual awareness. They each knew the limitations set down by the other.
As an example, they each had their own bedrooms, and, although when they made love they invariably slept together, on some occasions Karen would retire to her own room to work, and Saul knew that when her door remained closed it meant that she wished to be left alone and that unless she opened the door to indicate otherwise she would want to sleep alone as well.
But then, after all, as they both agreed, sex wasn’t everything.
All in all, Saul considered that he was very fortunate.
And then he was head-hunted by McCaine, Abbott and Drury. Of course, Karen was the first person he told, once he had given himself a day to think it over in his own mind, to list the pros and the cons and to give due consideration to all that was involved.
‘They’re a very prestigious firm,’ Karen had pronounced when he finally told her.
‘Yes,’ he agreed.
‘But not the most prestigious, and you still have to get your master’s.’
Both of them knew that, if his results were as good as his tutors indicated, the chances were that he would have more than one offer to choose from, and yet there was a certain security in knowing that he could walk away from Harvard and straight into such a good firm. After all, he was not the only pebble on the beach and some of the other pebbles had some very influential boulders indeed standing behind them; they were WASP students from families whose names and connections would virtually guarantee them entrée into the best jobs. An advantage which Saul did not have.
‘There’s still time yet,’ Karen said at length.
Both of them knew what she was saying. Saul nodded in agreement and added, ‘Best not to seem too eager … too hungry.’
‘Quite,’ Karen agreed.
Karen flew home for Christmas. Saul did not. He could not afford it. Instead he worked, both on his studies and to earn money. Picking up his cue from Karen, he got himself a job in Aspen, and while he was there he learned to ski. The wages were poor, but the perks, including free ski passes and tuition, more than made up for the wages.
Skiing was the ‘in’ winter sport. If Saul had not already known that, he was intelligent enough to pick it up from the conversation of his fellow collegiates when the winter season approached.
Several of the female holiday-makers made it plain to him that he was welcome in their beds, but he had no wish to get involved. He had other more important things to do.
The physically hard activity of skiing, the long hours spent outside, honed his body after the softening influence of the months of study. The sun bronzed his face, further dramatising the contrast between the darkness of his hair and the lucid lightness of his eyes. He returned to Harvard half a stone lighter and a good deal fitter.
Yes, she had had a good Christmas, Karen confirmed when he picked her up at the airport, but she had missed him. Saul had missed her too, and suddenly the sexual appetite he had kept so rigorously under control while he was in Colorado burst into life.
If Karen was taken aback at being rushed straight through the front door of their apartment and into the bedroom she didn’t show it, responding to his need with an expertise that made him shudder against her in aching pleasure, almost immediately reaching orgasm.
He told himself that the sensation that gripped his stomach when she turned over and whispered firmly in his ear, ‘My turn now, I think,’ wasn’t really an unpleasant sense of somehow having broken some unwritten rule, but later on, after he had made love to her again, he watched her sleep, irritated with himself for the negative feelings that kept him awake.
He got his master’s with distinction and, although he was offered several prestigious jobs, he was aware that the most prestigious of them were all going to others, others who were not as academically well qualified as he was himself but who had other advantages. He accepted the most promising of all offers, and then used the time before taking it up to fly home to Britain to see his family.
His father seemed to have shrunk physically since he had last seen him. He looked greyer and more worn down. He was pleased that Saul had done so well and very proud of him, but even while he was accepting his praise, Saul felt let down … empty … as though something was missing. He told himself it was because he knew that the very best job offers had passed him by, and he swore that when he got back to New York he would work until he had proved to those who had passed him over that they had made a
mistake. He was, he assured himself on the flight back, going to be the best in his field … the very best.
Karen too had got her master’s and a job with one of the leading agencies. Like him, she had her sights set on the very top of the career ladder.
Since they were both going to be working in New York, and in view of the terrifyingly high cost of living it seemed only sensible that they look for an apartment they could share. There was a comfortable familiarity about their relationship now, a steady, easy pattern to their sex and social life.
As they had done at Harvard, Karen insisted that they manage to afford a maid to come in and clean for them. Saul protested that surely between the two of them they could keep the small apartment clean, but Karen had shaken her head. He might choose to turn himself into a domestic drudge if he wished but she had no intention of doing so. Her career was far too important to her. She simply wouldn’t have the time to spare for that kind of work. Saul gave in. His salary was a good one, but living expenses were high and he soon discovered that his firm expected a certain social standing from its young executives. Saul was quickly aware that he was the only new recruit who did not have a moneyed WASP background.
It was discreetly and subtly suggested to him that he should join certain clubs, take up certain interests. The firm was rather an old-fashioned one, unlike the agency where Karen worked.
Saul had been working for Adams, Adams and Hewitson for six months when he first became aware that the senior partners were not too happy about the fact that he was living with Karen.
At first he misunderstood the point of the discreet queries that followed his appearance with Karen at an obligatory dinner-dance given to celebrate the sixtieth birthday of one of the partners, but then broader hints were dropped, and to his astonishment he realised that he was gently but firmly being warned that his progress within the firm could be impeded by the wrong kind of personal life, but that correspondingly the right kind of wife was extremely beneficial to an ambitious young man. Karen, with her family background, was, he was given to understand, very much the right kind of wife.
He gave Karen the gist of their conversation later that evening over dinner. They ate out most evenings, sometimes locally, but more often than not in places favoured by people of their own type, up and coming young executive couples with a certain social standing to maintain.
Karen paused and looked reflective but offered no comment. It was only later after they had made love and were lying relaxed in bed together that she referred to their conversation again, startling him by commenting, ‘You know, Saul, I think it might be worthwhile thinking about getting married.’
‘But I thought you didn’t want marriage.’
She shook her head. ‘Not originally—but now … However, it would have to be a specific type of marriage. A marriage to someone who understood the importance to me of my career. Of course, if you don’t care for the idea …’
Saul looked at her. There was no doubt that she would make him an ideal wife, and although at first the idea had taken him by surprise, for he had not thought of their relationship in terms of marriage, once he did think about it he had to admit that it had a good deal in its favour.
‘There’s no need to rush into any decision,’ Karen pointed out, but it seemed that the senior partners were anxious Saul should conform to the way they believed things should be done, and within a month of the subject first being broached Saul told Karen that if she still favoured the idea he would like to get married.
Karen took a week to give him the answer, during which time she flew back to England and then returned to tell him that she did want to marry him, but, in view of her family’s penurious state, she felt that a quiet New York wedding would be in the best interests of all concerned.
‘Daddy simply can’t afford to give me the kind of wedding the family would expect. There just isn’t the money. Much less embarrassing all round if we just get married quietly and discreetly over here, don’t you think?’
Saul agreed, and yet somewhere at the back of his mind it was there again, that tight, painful sensation he remembered from childhood, that sense of disappointment … of pain almost. He dismissed it, of course, and accepted the approving congratulations of his employers.
To celebrate their marriage Saul and Karen gave a party at one of their regular restaurants. Karen chose the venue and the menu, both of which were a careful and well judged balance that allowed her to mix her colleagues from the agency with the new WASP friends they had made, and the older generation of partners from Saul’s firm.
It was the general consensus of opinion among the senior wives that Karen was an ideal wife for an ambitious young man; that her obvious breeding and impressive lineage would be an asset to one who lacked the wealth and strength of a firm WASP background to support him.
Approving invitations to a variety of events were issued. Karen was asked if she would care to join several sub-committees for a variety of charities. She complained to Saul that she could not really spare the time, but nevertheless accepted the invitations.
‘Charity work is a big part of the social scene here,’ she explained when Saul protested that since their marriage he hardly ever seemed to see her. ‘It’s a good way of meeting the right sort of people … people with influence. Which reminds me, we’ll have to think about joining a more up-market country club. I’ve heard on the grapevine that one of your senior partners is going to retire early. That means that someone will be moved up to take his place, which means that someone from lower down in the firm will also be promoted, and it’s your particular field, so …’
‘They’ve taken on four new analysts so far this year,’ Saul pointed out to her. ‘And I suspect that I’m the one on the lowest salary and—’
‘All the more reason for making sure you’re the one who gets the promotion,’ Karen told him crisply.
They didn’t make love that night. Karen was too tired, so Saul did some work instead.
They hadn’t made love in over a week, but as his body registered this fact Saul picked up the files he had brought home and was soon immersed in them, his earlier desire to wake Karen up and take her in his arms so that he could make love to her pushed to one side.
CHAPTER TEN
SAUL got his promotion, and a large increase in salary. He planned to take Karen out to dinner at Le Circe to celebrate, but when he telephoned her she told him that she had to go away for a week on business. ‘A brainstorming session to put together a new campaign for one of our largest clients.’
Karen’s voice was full of unusual excitement. She had been picked to head the team chosen to come up with something innovative. It was a breathtaking opportunity, one she hadn’t expected to come anywhere near getting at least until she was a few more rungs up the ladder.
In fact, she had been told that it was a testimony to her talents that she had been chosen. Brad Simons, the director who dealt with the account, had summoned her into his office to give her the news, and that evening he was taking her out to dinner so that they could discuss the client’s particular foibles.
Saul tried not to feel disappointed. As he replaced the receiver he told himself that Karen had every right to feel pleased and that it was unfair of him to feel that somehow his promotion had been pushed into second place.
Everyone considered them a fortunate … even an ideal young couple; they had more social invitations than they could fulfil; their company was always in demand. They had the approval of Saul’s senior partners, and he had even been mentioned in the Wall Street Journal as someone to watch. He had earned praise from the partners for the work he was doing, and he had received several tentative, subtle enquiries from other organisations inviting him to join them.
And yet he still woke up in the night with that tight, aching pain in his chest and the awareness that, somewhere in his dreams, a child had been crying. And while he lay there, with Karen asleep beside him, he fought to dismiss the feeling he had that somehow
his life was empty. How could it be? He had met all the targets he had set for himself at this stage of his life and more. He had a wife he knew was a good partner for him. They were the envy of their friends, and he could tell from his father’s voice whenever he rang home how pleased and proud he was of his progress.
Yes, he had everything he had ever planned to have. Everything he had ever wanted. But inside there was still that sense of loss, of a dimly perceived awareness that something was missing.
And then Karen lost her job.
He came home one Friday to find her in the apartment, her face white with rage as she paced the floor.
She had been sacked … fired, she told him. And why? Why? Because those bastards had deliberately set her up. They had known they were going to lose the McCall contract and so they had set her up for a deliberate fall … handing her all those lies … giving her all that praise, and the whole time knowing …
At first she was so enraged that she could barely speak coherently, and then slowly the whole story came out. How the agency had slowly been losing some of its best clients, and how Brad Simons had known that they were going to lose their most important and biggest client, McCall’s …
‘He set me up. I should have guessed. He never liked me. He wanted me to fall on my face. He used me to get out from under himself.’
Saul had never seen Karen so angry. Her eyes blazed with the intensity of it; her body was so tense that he was afraid to touch her, her face as white as the chic modern minimalistic walls of their living area.
‘It isn’t the end of the world,’ he told her. ‘You’ll get another job.’
She rounded on him then, contempt spiking the look she gave him. ‘You mean it isn’t the end of your world,’ she threw back at him. ‘And as for getting another job … what agency would touch me now? I’m dead, Saul … poisoned meat. The ad exec who lost the McCall account—that’s how I’ll be remembered. Do you know when I walked out of my office today not a single soul looked at me … never mind spoke to me?
