Georgina spoke crisply. 'I think we know what you have in mind. We'll take a couple of hours over lunch and deal with it.'
'Yes, do,' Jake's voice was withdrawn. 'Oh, and Georgina,' he turned to her, suddenly alert and businesslike, 'this is all on expenses.'
'No!' Davina's voice was loud. 'No, thank you,' she said more quietly. 'I couldn't… I wouldn't want to accept that.'
Georgina intervened quickly.
'Don't worry about it, Davina. We'll settle all that later,' and she went out.
Jake was leaning casually against the corner of his big desk, and Davina looked up to find his gaze on her, his eyes narrowed in concentration. He seemed about to say something more, but she turned abruptly and walked out on rather unsteady legs.
Later that morning she watched her own transformation in an endless series of mirrors. Antoine cut and dried, draped and pinned her hair, showing how she could now wear it loose if she wished, advising her how to soften the outline with deep waves either side of her head. While he was working and talking to her persuasively, the manicurist shaped her nails, finishing with a pale pink natural varnish that gave her hands a glamorous, feminine look.
At the exclusive salon where Georgina took her next, she tried on one outfit after another, and finally settled on an oatmeal Chanel suit with flattering nipped-in waistline, turn-back cuffs and soft satin shirt in tobacco brown with matching kid leather pumps and sheer silk tights.
Finally, at the beauty salon in Bond Street, she had a massage, facial and a session with the make-up expert, who explained to her how the planes of her face, the high cheekbones and wide-set eyes needed only the softest shades of subtle lip-gloss, eye-shadow and foundation. When she was finished and Georgina paraded her before a full-length mirror, Davina could only gaze speechless at the stranger reflected in the glass.
That was a day she would never forget, because it saw the death of the scraggy miserable teenager, and her new poise and self-confidence stemmed from the moment she looked at herself in that mirror.
It was some months later when she was summoned one morning to Jake's office. He wanted to see her alone. She quaked in her shoes, knowing there was only one reason for an interview alone with the boss, and that was a transfer. She had done something unforgivable, committed some awful blunder, and she would be transferred or fired. She remembered vividly her clammy hands and the nervous constriction in her throat, as she told herself it didn't matter. There were other jobs, this was not the only one in town.
In his office she sat nervously, her hands clasped in her lap, looking up at him from the other side of his desk. And he had told her quietly and quite impersonally that Georgina was leaving to have a baby, and he wanted her, Davina, to take over Georgina's job.
At first she thought it was a joke. Then she had been more petrified than she had ever felt before. And finally she had taken it in and had accepted.
Jake explained it all very carefully and coolly. He thought quite certainly she was ready to take it on. All she lacked was self-confidence, and this she should get from Georgina in the following two months during her training.
It had all sounded so simple when he talked about it, but Davina knew from experience that things always sounded easy when Jake described them. But there had been help and encouragement from the rest of the team, who showed their approval, taking her out to celebrate. Later that evening Larry told her Georgina was delighted since it had been her idea in the first place. And it had worked out. Davina had been doing the job for nearly a year and she still loved it.
She saw the envelope on the hall table as soon as she opened the front door. There had been no warning the day would end like this, she thought. She had not seen that writing for nearly two years, but she knew it instantly.
Upstairs she put it on one side, refused to open it, dreading the moment when she would have to read it.
A bath first, she decided, something to eat. Then she would be in a better frame of mind for whatever it contained.
An hour later she sat with the letter in her lap, an untasted sandwich on the table in front of her.
'Mr and Mrs David Richards request the pleasure of your company on the occasion of the wedding of their daughter, Monica Anne…' The heavily embossed invitation stared at her. Next Saturday—a week away. Mechanically she got up, standing the invitation on the mantelpiece. It was then she saw the postscript on the back in her mother's writing.
'Please come, darling. We all want you here.' The 'all' was heavily underlined.
Davina bent her head to lean against the fireplace and started to cry.
CHAPTER TWO
Jake Humphries was early the following Monday morning. Davina was just putting on the Cona for coffee when he arrived and swept through into his own office with a brief, 'You're early, Davina.'
Before he could settle she followed him, closing the door behind her, and he looked up in surprise. She didn't usually come in till he had gone through his letters.
'Could I speak to you for a moment?' she said, her voice empty of expression.
'Yes, of course,' he replied, noting the deep shadows under her eyes and the pallor of her face. He gestured to her to sit down, but she shook her head.
'This will only take a moment.' She swallowed. 'Could I take next Friday off, please?'
'Yes, of course,' he said without hesitation, and then, sharply, 'There's nothing wrong, is there?'
She looked down at her hands and found she was clenching them tightly.
'No, of course not,' she said quickly, and turned to go.
'Davina!' he said again sharply, and she stopped. 'Er… I believe you still have some leave to come. If you want to take a few days, please do. We're bound to have a fairly quiet week. In fact I shall be going away myself before the week-end.'
'Thank you,' she said, 'but no. Just the one day on Friday. I'll make sure Heather can cope.'
She looked at him guardedly, controlling her voice with care. She must not start crying again.
'Very well,' he said at last, looking at her rather searchingly, but she refused to meet his eyes.
'Thank you,' she said again, and walked out on rather wobbly legs. Sinking into her own chair, she suddenly realised it was going to be a difficult week. Perhaps she should have agreed to take the whole week. But that would have left her at home with nothing to do but think, the last thing she wanted.
'Good morning!' Heather's cheerful voice and sturdy presence interrupted Davina's thoughts as her secretary walked in, young, tomboyish, her brown curly hair flying round the fresh face. She was a tonic and had a cheerful line in chatter which kept them all laughing when things were tense.
'Hello, Heather,' Davina greeted her. 'The coffee's ready, I think. Would you please take it in?'
'Sure thing,' and Heather flung off her coat.
The week was under way and it turned out to be one of the worst Davina could remember. Not a day passed without mistakes, and they were all hers—messages she forgot, meetings she failed to remind Jake about, and even a telephone call from Andrea Temple she cut off by mistake.
At that point Jake lost his cool, and stormed into her office.
'Davina, what the hell happened this time?' he shouted. 'Have you cut me off? For heaven's sake pull yourself together and start thinking, girl. We can't go on like this!'
'I'm sorry,' she said quietly, and began to dial the number of Miss Temple's flat.
'Never mind,' he said more quietly. 'Just give me a line and I'll dial it myself.' He went back into his own room, and Davina found she was trembling so badly she had to sit down.
Heather looked at her in concern.
'Here,' Davina found her suddenly at her side with a cup of coffee, 'you'd better try this. I wish I had something stronger.' And she went back to her desk. 'It's none of my business, Davina,' she began heatedly, 'but…'
'Leave it,' Davina interrupted harshly, 'just let it be. And you're right, it is none of your business.' She gathered up her
things and put on her jacket. 'I'm going for an early lunch,' she said shortly. 'Will you please take messages and stay until I come back. Then you can go for yours.'
'Yes, of course, Davina,' said Heather, rather chastened.
Davina picked up a taxi and asked to be dropped at the entrance to Hyde Park. It was a cool, crisp morning, the huge chestnuts ready to burst into blossom overhead and the multi-coloured crocuses adding their own colourful pattern to the carpet of green grass underfoot. She walked heedless of early morning couples and the tramps emerging from their newspapers.
'I can't go on like this,' she thought listlessly. 'If I'm not careful I'll lose my job.'
Perhaps it had been a mistake to accept the invitation. And yet she had felt confident she could cope, she could face them all. And she would have to go back some time; she owed that to her parents.
And hour later she returned to the office feeling much better, resolved to put all thoughts of the week-end away and concentrate on the work in hand. The rest of the day passed without mishaps.
She was packing on Thursday evening when the phone rang on the landing below. She heard voices and then Mrs Blunt calling.
'Miss Richards, telephone for you!'
She opened her door. 'Thank you…just coming.'
She hurried downstairs. 'Hello,' she said, slightly breathless.
'Davina?' It was Jake Humphries' voice.
She swallowed convulsively. What had she done this time? For him to call her at home meant it was something serious.
'Davina, is that you?' His voice sounded impatient.
'Yes.' Her voice was high-pitched with nervousness. 'What's happened? What's gone wrong now?'
There was a pause while she realised what she had said. 'Oh, dear,' she thought.
'Yes… well…' Amusement sounded in Jake's voice for the first time that week, 'it's me this time. I've left the new crisps contract in the office, and I need it to study over the week-end. I wondered if you could pick it up and bring it to me here.'
There was a silence while he waited for her to say something.
'Are you there, Davina?' he said at last. 'Can you hear me?'
'Yes,' she found her voice again, 'certainly.'
'You mean you can do it? You see,' he explained, 'I have to wait for this call from the States and I don't want to leave, but if you can't get away I could try and get to the office in the morning before I leave London.'
'No,' she said quickly, 'that's all right. I'll get it.'
'Good girl,' he said briskly. 'I'll get a mini-cab to pick you up in half an hour.' He hung up.
The night porter knew her and unlocked the offices. Within an hour of the telephone call she was at Jake Humphries' front door.
The flat was on the top floor of a prestigious block in Knightsbridge overlooking the park. Davina had been there before, once at a party he had given to the office staff when he was made a board director, and once when he was ill and she had come to take dictation.
He opened the door himself, wearing tight black cords and a black cashmere sweater. The casual clothes emphasised his height and the darkness of his hair. He looked somehow quite lethal in the casual clothes and Davina felt vaguely ill at ease as they looked at each other for a moment.
'Thank you,' he said, and reached out his hand. She put the file into it and turned to go, but he moved forward and gripped her arm, moving her gently past him into the flat.
She remembered the tiled hall with the boating prints round the walls, and stood awkwardly waiting to know what he wanted of her. She was anxious to be gone.
He smiled. 'You will stay and have a drink, won't you?'
'No, thank you… I… have to get back,' she stammered slightly. 'I'm packing.'
'So am I,' he said, 'and I do dislike it, but Mrs Webber, my housekeeper, is on holiday and so I'm lumbered. Please come in a moment while I just check this.' And he ushered her into the living room.
The room looked exactly the same. Large and high-ceilinged, it was restful though very masculine, with books lining two of the walls, hi-fi equipment and television built into shelves on the third and the forth wall a huge glass window with doors leading out on to the wide balcony. The deep-pile brown carpet went from wall to wall and two enormous leather sofas faced the fireplace where a small grate held a large log giving off a cosy warmth against the chill of the evening.
Jake turned to her. 'You will have a small drink, won't you? To keep me company?' He turned towards her and she noticed how lightly he moved for such a big man, something she would not see in the office where he rarely removed the jacket or waistcoat of his impeccably tailored suits.
'Can't I persuade you?' he coaxed, and she was suddenly aware of his charm. She had so often observed it at work when he turned it on to clinch a deal or persuade a client. But it had never been directed at her before, and she could sympathise with the Andrea Temples in this world because they never seemed to leave him. It was always he who moved on.
She must be feeling rather weak and lightheaded to think like this, she thought. It seemed suddenly churlish to refuse.
'A small dry sherry, please,' she said, and smiled serenely up at him, unaware of the glow that radiated from her eyes across her face.
Jake stood quite still for a moment, looking down at her, the smile gone from his eyes, a fleeting look of surprise flickering across his expression. Then it was gone and he moved over to the drinks cabinet.
'I hope you're planning a pleasant week-end,' he said conversationally. 'I'm off to the parental home to see my father who's not been too well lately.'
'Oh, I'm sorry. Nothing serious, I hope?'
She took her glass from him and they both sat down, Jake stretching his long legs to the fire.
'He does too much when I'm not there. I go down as often as I can and read him the riot act, which he enjoys.' He grinned rather boyishly over at her. 'But what about you?' he asked insistently.
Davina realised he was going to persevere and decided it was time to leave.
'Yes, I'm going away for the week-end too,' she said, determined not to be drawn.
'Going home?' he asked quietly.
'Yes,' she said shortly, and got up.
'Another drink?' His voice was merely polite.
'No, thank you. I must be off… can I get a taxi?'
'Of course. I'll get you one.'
He got up and moved over to her, standing so close she could smell the aftershave he used. She was tall herself, but felt dwarfed by his height and his nearness. She had to force herself to stand still, not to back away as she would have liked.
'Davina, what is it?' He had his coaxing voice on again. 'Can't you tell me? We've all been aware this week that something is troubling you and we've all been concerned. Perhaps I might be able to help if you could tell me.'
This time she did back away in panic, turning her back on him, forcing the tears back from beneath her eyelids.
'I know I've been inefficient this week, and I'm sorry,' she bit her lip, trying to keep her voice steady, 'but you needn't worry about that any more. It's all being sorted out. I shall be quite all right when I get back next week. I just haven't been very well.' She knew she was babbling and stopped.
'I see.' His voice was immediately behind her and she moved away from him so abruptly she knocked into a coffee table, hitting her leg just below the knee. She toppled forward with a cry of pain as he caught her from behind, breaking her fall and turning her round into his arms.
She was so surprised she didn't move, and Jake kept his arms round her lightly. Putting up one hand to her hair, he pushed her head down gently against his chest. There was nothing intimate or frightening in his hold, although she could feel her heart hammering. She stayed quite still in his embrace as he began to massage the back of her neck, easing the pain she had had all week.
'You've had a headache, haven't you,' he murmured quietly.
Weakly she let him, feeling the comfort of his broadness, strangely a
t peace and secure in his arms. He didn't say anything more and she began to relax in his hold. His hands were warm and strong against her neck and shoulders as he massaged away the taut knotted muscles, his touch impersonal and expert. Eventually she stirred and he put her away from him gently, sitting her down in the corner of one of the sofas.
'Just don't move,' he said lightly, not looking at her. 'I'm going to get some food and coffee.' Davina looked up at him to protest, but he forestalled her. 'I haven't eaten either, and Mrs Webber will have left something simmering. Just stay there and rest for a moment.'
She leaned her head back, letting the warmth of the fire lull her into a light doze. She opened her eyes to find Jake had drawn up a low trolley on which plates were warming and food was keeping hot. A delicious smell reached her, and she sat up with a guilty start.
Two large china table lamps had been switched on to cast a soft light over carpet, books and walls. Jake was standing with his back to her looking out at the darkening skyline.
'Oh, dear, I must have dropped off!' She spoke hesitantly. 'I'm sorry. You should have woken me.'
'There was no hurry.' He turned towards her and she thought his face looked taut and rather grim in the lamplight. She wondered if he was angry she was still here, or bored. 'It was probably the warmth from the fire,' he went on coldly. 'I often find myself dropping off sitting here in the evenings.' He came and sat down opposite her. 'I've kept everything hot and I hope you don't mind eating here informally rather than the dining room.' He leaned over to the food. 'Now let me help you to some of this.'
'Thank you,' she said shyly. 'Could I please have a quick wash?'
'Of course,' he got up, 'how remiss of me. It's through here.'
He went ahead of her through the hall and down a long corridor at the end of which he opened the door to a bathroom. It was in pale green with tiles and toning carpet, matching towels and huge glass-stoppered jars holding body lotions, perfumed cottonwool pads, bath oil and talcum powders. All mod. cons, for the visiting female, Davina noted drily.
Wedding in the Family Page 2
