Jane's mind was still confused, not only by the unexpected sounds in the background, but also by Simon's apparent unconcern about her failure to return that night.
"Oh, um… probably early in the afternoon," she stammered.
"Fine. I'll see you then. Goodnight." And he hung up.
Jane sat looking at the phone in her hand, as if expecting it to provide some kind of explanation. Then she too hung up.
Her mind was a jumble of thoughts. She went over and sat in the damask-covered chair and stared out the window at the lights of the city. Directly across from her room was the Royal Ontario Museum, that solid stone building surrounded by the wrought-iron fence where she had spent so many happy hours as a child. The headlights and taillights of cars going up and down University Avenue formed two straight ribbons of light that divided when they reached Queen's Park, forming a circle around it. High-rise buildings, their windows blazing with light, reached into the darkening sky. And below, the omnipresent sound of traffic. This was the city where she had grown up and learned to love, and how different it was from the darkness and silence that surrounded the house on the ridge.
But the house on the ridge was obviously not dark and silent tonight. Jane tried her best to figure it out. Had Simon, annoyed with her because of her insistence that she make the trip to town today, invited a group of friends over for a party? Knowing that she would either return or phone, was he simply, childishly perhaps, trying to show her that her absence meant nothing to him? But that wasn't like him. Whatever his faults, Simon was a mature man and would never stoop to such play-acting. She felt again his lips on hers as she was leaving, saw again the look in his eyes and dismissed that theory as being completely unworthy of him.
She rose restlessly and went and poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle that was left from dinner, then went and sat on the wide windowsill, looking down on the tiny figures, some hurrying, some strolling along Bloor Street. Very few were alone. Most were couples, hand in hand. There were groups of four or six young people and here and there elderly people—two ladies, both with canes, window shopping.
But Jane's mind was not on what she saw. She kept trying to find some explanation for Simon's behaviour on the phone.
Suddenly, she remembered Mrs. Armitage's gossip as they shared their meals together in the kitchen. The words that she had used were not difficult to recall… "there have been women… since Mrs. Wade left, I mean. And not always the best kind of women either. Oh, it's not that they aren't respectable, I suppose, but they belong to that literary crowd in Toronto, you know, and although I shouldn't say it, their morals are not what you and I would call high." Was that then what had happened? Had Simon really been sincere in asking her not to go away? Or had it been just an act? Had he been relieved to see her go and had he then invited some of that "literary crowd" when he knew that she was safely out of the way? Jane realized that she was inexperienced as far as men were concerned, but she was not naive enough to doubt that Simon needed women. What, she wondered, was happening right now at the house on the ridge? She found the prospect too painful to contemplate and put her head in her hands, pressing the palms of her hands against her closed eyelids, as if to erase the pictures that arose in her mind.
Jane's mood on the trip back was far different than it had been the day before. The day's holiday had been planned to help her clear up the confusion in her mind, but she had to admit if she had been confused when she started out, it was nothing compared to the confusion she felt now. She had slept badly, if at all, the night before. She always had trouble sleeping in a strange bed, and her thoughts and imagination had kept her tossing and turning until dawn. Then she had fallen into a fitful sleep and had woken at 10:30. She had had breakfast sent to her room and bathed and dressed hurriedly. She couldn't wait to get back to the house on the ridge. Somehow she felt seeing Simon would clear up all the questions that churned through her mind. It was another warm, sunny day and as she drove she tried to concentrate on the beauty of the landscape around her, rather than on her own fevered thoughts.
Finally she turned into the driveway. As she navigated the last turn and came in sight of the house and the parking area beside it, she was amazed to see that it was crowded with cars. Besides the silver-grey Jaguar, there were four other cars, all late models, one a fire-engine red Ferrari, another a grey Rolls Royce, and even a small van. As Jane parked and turned off the ignition she could hear laughter and voices coming from the pool at the other side of the house. Was the party still going on? Should she quietly drive away? But where would she go? She finally decided that flight would accomplish nothing, certainly it wouldn't answer any questions. She took her overnight bag out of the car and walked to the house. As she entered the hall, Simon came towards her and took the bag from her hand. Her eyes searched his face for the answer to all of the questions that had been haunting her. One look was enough. His face, although haggard and drawn, lit up when he looked at her. His eyes were full of the tenderness that she remembered so well. Still holding her bag in one hand, he pulled her to him with the other and held her close against him, his face buried in her hair. They stood that way motionless for moments, almost as if he were gathering some strength from her.
Then there was the sound of the patio door sliding back and a high, tinkling laughter, like that of a carefree child, and a man's voice, low and intimate. Simon drew away from Jane and taking her by the elbow led her down the hall to the dining room, where a man and a tiny, exquisite woman had just entered from the patio. The man was middle-aged and balding, and as he was wearing only swimming trunks it was apparent that he was slightly overweight. But Jane's eyes were on the woman. She had never seen anyone so beautiful. Although she was only slightly over five feet tail, her body was beautifully proportioned, and displayed to advantage in the jet black maillot swimsuit that she wore. It left one shoulder bare and had large cut-out pieces on the sides. Her black hair, now wet from the pool, hung straight down her back to her waist. Her large green eyes, slightly tilted, dominated the small face with its high cheekbones and skin of porcelain. The four of them stood silent for a moment, then Simon said stiffly, "Jane, I would like you to meet Mona Moore and her agent, Bill Ramsey. This is Jane Sullivan, whom I told you about."
Bill Ramsey extended his hand and took Jane's in his. His handshake was perfunctory and he mumbled something that sounded like, "Glad to know you." Mona surveyed Jane in silence and Jane was suddenly conscious of how quickly she had dressed this morning and how little attention she had given to makeup or her hair. Finally Mona drawled, "Oh, yes, Simon did say something about having a secretary or typist or something."
Simon said evenly, "Jane is my research assistant."
Mona said casually, "Oh, well, whatever. Simon, we were coming to look for you. Aren't you coming in for a swim?"
Simon answered in that same even, quiet voice, "I've told you, Mona, I'm in the middle of a book. I have to get to work."
Mona laughed, the same high, tinkling laugh that Jane had heard when she and Simon were in the hall. "Ah, yes, back to work with your 'research assistant.' Well, try to behave yourself, darling." And turning to her companion, "Bill, be a dear and see what's keeping that wretched woman with our drinks."
Simon again put his hand on Jane's elbow and steered her out into the hall again. "I'll take your bag up for you and then, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to work."
"Of course," Jane murmured. She was too surprised to say anything else.
Later when she joined Simon in his study, he was hard at work at his desk. She sat down quietly at her desk and started to sort out the notes that she had taken while in Toronto. After a few minutes, Simon, without looking up, said quietly, "I owe you an explanation."
"Oh, no," Jane answered, almost too quickly.
"Yes, I do. I had no idea they were coming. She said something about picking up the clothes she left here. When she left she was in a hurry and didn't take time to pack. However, I und
erstand that she has just finished a picture, and Bill Ramsey is concerned about her health. It seems she collapsed the last day on the set. It was probably just the heat, but I feel I owe her something, especially if she really is ill—after all, she was my wife."
Jane didn't know quite how to answer him. Finally she said, "Yes, of course."
In silence, they both went back to their work. The sounds of laughter and splashing filtered into the study, along with the shafts of late afternoon sunlight.
As the afternoon wore on and it got closer and closer to five o'clock and quitting time, Jane found it increasingly difficult to keep her mind on her work. She kept wondering what was going to happen at dinner and what course of action she should take to make things easier for Simon, and also for herself. She was still too confused to think about the long-range implications of Mona's visit and what effect it would have on her relationship with Simon. Her only problem at the moment was how to get through dinner. Finally, when the hands of her watch indicated five o'clock, and she could put it off no longer, she said in a small voice, "Simon."
He didn't look up from his work, but answered absently, "Yes?"
Jane waited a moment and then plunged on, her words hurried, "Simon, I've been thinking that perhaps it would be best if I were to have my meals with Mrs. Armitage while your… while you have guests. It might simplify matters."
Now she had his full attention. His head came up quickly and his glittering blue eyes fixed on her with such intensity that she was frightened. His voice when he spoke, although low, was almost trembling with anger. "You'll do no such thing, do you hear? I have no intention of hiding you away in the kitchen like a servant. I know they're not the kind of people with whom you usually mingle, but you will do me a favor by trying to overlook their obvious shortcomings and be as gracious to them as you can."
Jane was near tears now, and she tried to keep her voice steady, "Of course, Simon. I only… I only thought it might make it easier for you."
"Well, it wouldn't," he answered shortly. "I'll expect you for cocktails at seven as usual," and he went back to his work.
Jane waited a few moments, then, after putting her work away, quietly left the room. She was unaware that Simon's eyes followed her as she crossed the room to the door. Had she seen the expression on his face, a mixture of pain and tenderness as he watched her, she would have been even more confused.
Jane was nervous as she descended the spiral staircase precisely on the dot of seven. She hadn't known what to wear. Her wardrobe was not that extensive, especially when it came to evening dress. Finally, she had decided to wear the new caftan that she had purchased in Oban. A few stitches repaired the drawstring at the neck that Simon had broken that Saturday evening that seemed so long ago—so much had happened in the interval.
When she reached the living room, still glowing with the last rays of the setting sun, she was surprised to see that Simon was not yet there. A tall young man stood with his back to her looking out at the view. She stood uncertainly in the doorway, and sensing her eyes on him, he turned. She was amazed to see that it was David Webber, a famous actor who had been Mona Moore's leading man in her last picture. He was about six feet tall and very well built, with a shock of blond hair. His grey eyes surveyed her for a moment and then he grinned, the famous lopsided grin that had made many a female movie-goer lose her heart to him.
"Don't tell me, let me guess," he said. "I knew this house had to be haunted and you're the resident ghost."
Jane laughed. "Do I look that bad?"
"On the contrary, you're obviously the kind of ghost who lures men to their destruction. How do you do it—push them off the tower?"
"No, off the edge of the ridge," Jane laughed.
"The edge of the ridge, where's that? You'll have to show it to me." He was standing in front of her now and Jane began to realize why he was one of the leading matinee idols of the day. He had a way of making her feel that she was the only woman in the world.
"Aren't you afraid?" she asked.
"Terrified," he answered. "But whatever happens, it will be worth it."
At that moment, as he stood looking down at her, Simon and Mona appeared in the doorway. Simon frowned as he looked at them together, and Mona, in her lilting, musical voice said, "David, don't tease the hired help."
"Mona, watch your tongue," Simon said, warningly. Her answer was a dazzling smile as she squeezed his arm. She was wearing a pale green nylon halter dress that matched the colour of her eyes exactly, and clung to every curve of her body. The neckline plunged to the waist and it was obvious that she wore nothing under it. Her long black hair was pulled back severely from her face and caught at the crown of her head with a jade comb. She looked Jane over from head to toe and Jane had the feeling that she probably knew exactly what she had paid for her dress and everything else about her. She avoided looking at Simon, knowing that if she did, Mona would probably surmise what their relationship was, and that was something she was not prepared for, not yet anyway.
Simon busied himself pouring drinks and Bill Ramsey appeared in the doorway, looking extremely uncomfortable in a dinner jacket that seemed several sizes too small for him. His face was flushed and it was obvious that he had already had a considerable amount to drink. Almost hidden behind him was a small woman in her mid-fifties, with bright red hennaed hair that frizzed around a small, wrinkled face. She was wearing a long flowered dress that must have been fashionable in the thirties. Simon started to hand drinks around, and then, catching sight of the pair in the doorway, he said, "Jane, I think you have met everyone except Anna, Mona's secretary. Anna, this is Jane Sullivan, my research assistant."
Anna weaved her way over to Jane, peering nearsightedly at her, and it was obvious that she too had consumed a good deal of alcohol. Jane took her hand, shook it and said, "How do you do," in a slightly bemused tone.
Mona giggled and announced to everyone, "I didn't really think that Anna would want to join us for dinner, but since Simon insisted on inviting his secretary, I thought it only fair that I invite mine."
Simon's expression was getting darker and darker and everyone else seemed uncomfortable, but David laughed and said, "Oh, come off it Mona, you're not impressing anyone." She shot him a look of pure venom, but managed to laugh. "One of these days David, you're going to go too far. Don't forget, I made you what you are and I could break you just as easily."
Jane saw the flush that suffused the young man's face, but it only lasted a moment. He turned to her with a smile and said, "Well, ghost, how about showing me the edge of the ridge?"
Simon frowned again, and before Jane could answer, said, "There isn't time. Dinner will be served in a moment." As if on cue, Mrs. Armitage appeared to announce dinner.
Afterwards, when Jane looked back on that dinner, she couldn't even remember what they had to eat. It was a kind of nightmare. Bill Ramsey and Anna were barely coherent, and Mona's cutting remarks were directed against everyone at the table. Simon ate in a stony silence. Only David, who luckily was seated next to Jane, made any attempt at normal conversation. Everyone was relieved when dinner was over.
As they rose to leave the table David turned to Jane. "How about that walk to the edge of the ridge that you promised me?"
Simon glared at him and Jane didn't know what to answer. All she knew was that she had to escape for a while to some kind of normalcy, so she smiled at David and said, "Fine, let's go."
The sun had set, but the sky had not yet darkened as they made their way across the parking area and along the path that led to the edge of the ridge. A silver crescent of a new moon hung high in the sky and David pointed to it, "Make a wish. I've already made mine," and he looked down at her with that familiar grin. "I hope you can't guess what it was."
Jane had to laugh. It was impossible to be annoyed with his boyish directness. When they reached the small clearing at the edge of the ridge, David was impressed. "Wow, now I know why you chose this spot to finish off your vic
tims," and turning to her suddenly, he took her in his arms and kissed her, expertly and lingeringly. Jane was surprised, not only because of the suddenness of his action, but because, although he was a handsome and vital man, she felt absolutely nothing from his kiss, except perhaps amusement.
When he finally released her, she said, without thinking, "You didn't have to do that, you know." The surface charm that he wore, almost like a cloak, vanished, and he looked down at her as if seeing her for the first time.
"You're right Jane, it was a gesture, something that I feel is expected of me. But I promise you that the next time I do it, it will be different. I have the feeling that we're going to be good friends."
Jane looked up at him, this handsome, sought-after man, and saw in his face how vulnerable he really was. She placed a hand on his arm and said, sincerely, "I feel that we are, too, David. Now, I think we should go back."
Chapter Nine
The rest of the week continued to be fine, a succession of warm, clear days and starry nights. Mona and her friends spent most of their time around the pool during the day and partying during the evenings and into the night. Many of their evenings were spent at the house, but occasionally they went into the Culloden Inn for dinner and an evening at the bar.
The change in Simon since the arrival of Mona was a source of pain and anxiety to Jane. He had retired behind a shell of brooding and formal politeness with everyone, even her. Their working days were spent in silence and their dinners, when Mona and her friends were present, were similar to that first night when they had all dined together. When his guests were not there for dinner, Simon had a tray sent to his study, and Jane asked for a tray in her room. She would have liked to dine with Mrs. Armitage, but she already had ample company. Mona's maid, a small, volatile Frenchwoman and her driver, a furtive middle-aged man, took their meals in the kitchen, and Jane felt that sharing a meal with them would be even worse than sharing one with Mona and her entourage. After all, David at least was sociable.
Summer Storm Page 9
