Tame a Proud Heart

by Jeneth Murrey

  Finding a bath impossible at the moment, Roz went back to her room where she flung open the wardrobe doors and contemplated the contents. Charles had said she should find something super for Eve to wear at this ghastly travesty of a party and she casually flicked through the hangers until she came to a white tricel knit dress. Her nose wrinkled at the chilly memories it evoked.

  She had worn it for a travel ad. about Greece and she recalled standing barefoot against a Doric column made of polystyrene, in front of a backdrop which showed the Parthenon in vivid sunlight against a cloudless sky. She had been pouring grapes and other fruits of the earth out of a plastic cornucopia, the heating in the studio had been on the blink and she had nearly frozen to death while Charles, warmly wrapped in a duffel coat, had snarled at her to stop shivering.

  Carefully she drew the dress out of its plastic cover and examined it. She had only worn it once and sent it to be cleaned straight away; it looked as good as new, so she would give it to Eve, not lend it, and as a bonus she would take up the hem the required two inches.

  By this time, she judged, the bathroom should be empty, and she pattered along the passage and after locking herself in, she stood under the shower, her mind busy with Eve's hairstyle, which would have to match the Greek lines of the dress; and the make-up, of course. The idea was to turn her sister into something resembling a Vestal Virgin, and with Eve's face that shouldn't be too difficult.

  Dressed and looking trim in a pleated, swinging skirt and a pink silk shirt, she met Eve at the top of the stairs and they went down together.

  'You're a bit grumpy this morning.' Eve raised her eyebrows. 'Do you want to cry on my shoulder?'

  'Cry!' Roz's voice raised an octave or two. 'Today's no day for crying. Today's the day for smiles all round. Charles is going to take blasted photographs.'

  'Then, if you can't work up a better smile than that, you'd better say "cheese".'

  'I feel more like gorgonzola, a bit blue and maggoty.' Roz sniffed and changed the subject. 'I looked in your wardrobe while you were at the invalid stage and it's time you put that floral chiffon in the dustbin. I've found a dress for you for the party, I've only worn it once and I'll make you a present of it.'

  'But the chiffon's a nice dress.' Eve was protesting, but not much.

  'It was a nice dress,' Roz sniffed again, this time disparagingly. 'Five or was it ten years ago? Time you had something new.'

  'My, we are in a mood!' Eve chuckled. 'Come and have some breakfast before you bite. Stephen and Freda have already left, Gilly's playing outside, so we'll have the kitchen to ourselves.'

  'Where's Charles?'

  'In the kitchen, of course, making some fresh coffee. Oh, I see what you mean, but Charles is different…'

  'He's different!' said Roz with a snap of her teeth, and glared at Eve's serene face. 'You know I don't really want to marry him, don't you?'

  'You say it, but I don't believe it.' Eve was still serene.

  'Well,' Roz halted on the staircase to put her head on one side and consider. 'I don't and I do, if you see what I mean.'

  'Yes, I know what you mean,' Eve giggled, and went on down the stairs.

  In the kitchen, Roz looked moodily out of the window on to the patio where Gilly was trying to beat a worm to death with a leaf. She ignored Charles, who was fiddling with the coffee filter machine, and turned back to her sister. 'That child has sadistic tendencies,' she remarked surlily. She was uncertain of herself and it was making her irritable. She accepted the cup of coffee which Charles offered in silence and then glittered at him. 'And you, maestro, how do you want me this morning; town or country elegance, or will you settle for sackcloth and ashes? Your wish is my command.'

  Charles paid no heed to her bad humour; he looked at her thoughtfully and nodded. 'Very much as you are, neat and wholesome. That skirt will do nicely and so will the shirt, but loosen your hair a bit, it looks too severe. And we'll have a pair of flat shoes or sandals, please, those slippers have seen better days.'

  'Blame that little monster.' Roz gestured to where Gilly had relinquished her efforts to murder the worm and was now stalking an insect. 'She sloshed water all over them. Heavens, Eve, go and stop her, do! She's caught something and I think she's going to eat it.'

  When her sister had gone flying through the door, Roz swung back on Charles. 'I-do-not-want-to-marry-you!' she said slowly and distinctly. 'Well?' and she glared at him, the word a challenge which she emphasised by banging her empty coffee cup down on the table.

  Charles poured her another cup of coffee, unmoved. 'Sit down, Roz, and stop raging. The matter is out of your hands—you've no choice. You behaved stupidly and without thought, I pulled you out of the mess you landed yourself in, and from now on you do as I say— and at present, I say "Curb that bad temper of yours".'

  'Thank you so much!' She lifted her lip in a snarl. 'I'm like this every morning, hell to live with, you'd go mad in a week. Call it off and I'll tell Eve we've settled for a short affair. How's that?'

  'It sounds disgusting.' He made his mouth prim so that she almost laughed at him. 'Marriage sounds so much better, more—er—respectable. Of course, I shall lay down certain rules and I shall expect you to abide by them.'

  'A policy of non-interference on both sides, perhaps?' she suggested, and his reply shook her.

  'You get one inch out of line, darling, and I'll interfere all right.' Eve was just outside the window, but he ignored that; they could have been alone on the moon or on a desert island. His hands were on her shoulders to jerk her against him. When he judged she was at a suitable distance, he released her shoulders to hold her firmly with one arm about her slender body and the fingers of his other hand grasping her chin firmly.

  This time Roz started melting long before he kissed her. She watched his eyes close as his face came down to hers and was lost, her body softened to his touch and her arms went about his neck, her hands grasping his hair to hold him to her.

  'Think you can stand it?' he whispered in her ear a little while later while she licked her swollen lip and tried to focus her bemused eyes.

  'Oh,' she snapped back to normal and tossed her head, 'my powers of endurance are phenomenal. It comes partly of being a much photographed model and partly from being pure in heart. My strength is as the strength often—you know!'

  'Which isn't quite the impression I gained from your randy brother-in-law.'

  'Oh, Stephen,' she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. 'I know you don't believe me, but Stephen can't help it. He has this Narcissus complex, he likes to study his reflection in female eyes.' Her voice died away as her original plan for tarting up Eve expanded and took definite root in her mind. Stephen always hated competition, he wasn't used to it, and it drove him mad. Suppose he had a little competition, suppose she made Eve the cynosure of all eyes so that Stephen melted into the background; how would he react? Knowing Stephen, she thought the results might be dramatic!

  'Charles—' she began as she attempted to free herself of the arm about her waist, but he showed no signs of slackening his grasp. 'Charles, listen to me! I'm going to make Eve look stunning for this party she's giving. Would you mind looking at her with appreciation, deep appreciation, please?'

  'I already do,' he smiled down at her in a devastating fashion. 'To put it bluntly, my sweet, your sister is one of the most naturally beautiful women I've ever seen. I could look at her all day, in a purely appreciative, of course.'

  'Then please do.' She was tart. 'Please concentrate all your aesthetic appreciation on my sister and leave me alone!'

  'Quite impossible!' He looked down at her, his eyes mocking. 'She doesn't want me and you do. I can't bear to see you unfulfilled. Besides, you must remember we're engaged. I wouldn't dream of looking at another woman, not in that way.' He accompanied this with a short, hard and mirthless laugh as he whisked her away to start the photography.

  Roz managed to look kind, sympathetic and efficient in a variety of poses; in a chair, at
her desk, in the garden with a pair of secateurs with which she was making a pretended assault on a rampaging creeper, and all with Eve doing something anonymous in the background. It wasn't as easy as working in the studio, the spotlights had to be moved bodily from place to place, but these were informal pictures and she didn't need to look at the camera, which helped enormously.

  At last Charles pronounced himself satisfied so that she could relax, take the kind, sympathetic look off her face and let her thwarted soul show through while he took a couple of shots of Eve and the two younger children for the family album. For that, he didn't need an audience, in fact he told her quite brusquely to go away, and, left to herself, she mooched back to her room for another good think.

  It was no longer a matter of Charles turning her on, it had gone way past that as far as she was concerned, and he seemed willing to have her even though he thought she and Stephen had… But could she be equally generous? That was the problem! Could she ignore Margery Smith and the hold she had on Charles? Somehow, Roz thought she wasn't that generous! Perhaps if it had been a relationship of shorter duration, she could have brushed it aside, but five years… In five years, people grew together.

  No, she decided, she couldn't turn a blind eye to something which had lasted that long, it wouldn't be either wise or sensible, and, anyway, her damned stupid, stubborn pride wouldn't let her. She would wake up in Charles's arms, in the middle of the night, and feel ashamed of herself.

  The thought of Charles and herself together in a bed brought a hot flush to her face and set her trembling, so, with a hurried step, she went along to the bathroom, washed her hands thoroughly and came back to load a needle with white thread and start taking up the two-inch hem around the bottom of the Greek dress. She concentrated on what she was doing, making the stitches small, neat and hardly visible, so that after ten minutes or so she had calmed down.

  Dinner was at half past six on the night of the party, and it was a very scrappy affair. Eve had spread the kitchen table with some bowls of salad, a plate of cold meats and a basket of rolls while, in the dining room, the caterers had set up trestle tables against one wall, covered them with white cloths and laid out what looked like a Scandinavian cold table in excelsis. Then they had all disappeared, after threatening to return at some unearthly hour the next morning to collect the crockery and glasses.

  'You've had nothing to eat.' Charles caught Roz on the stairs as she was going up to do Eve's hair and face.

  'I'm not hungry,' she answered blandly. 'I'll have something at suppertime, there's enough food laid out to feed a regiment.' But she continued up the stairs vaguely comforted by Charles' concern.

  She allowed herself half an hour to turn Eve into a cross between a Madonna and Helen of Troy and then went to her own room to achieve an Oriental look which she had decided would be a nice contrast to all that Greek purity. The look was based on a straight yellow silk dress, perfectly plain except for some heavy embroidery and the knee-high slit on one side of the slim skirt. To this she added a slicked-back and polished hairdo and held the heavy knot of hair at the back of her head with a couple of gilt-headed pins. When she stepped back from the mirror to get an overall picture, she felt satisfied. Despite this being her engagement party, she had been determined that Eve should shine brightest, and as far as she could see she had succeeded. Then pinning a bright, charming smile on her face, she went downstairs to greet the guests.

  The first part of the evening was a dreary bore and uncomfortable. Roz winced inwardly whenever somebody wished her well or shook Charles's hand while they congratulated him on his good fortune, the vicar was fulsome, the post-grad student simpered and made no attempt to hide her adoration of Stephen, and one of the dons had an ethnically dressed wife who reproved Eve for having chairs. Everybody in their house, she said, sat on the floor as nature intended; it was so much better for the posture.

  Charles caught Roz up at the buffet where she was loading her plate with smoked salmon and vol-au-vents filled with creamed crab.

  'You're not looking at Eve enough,' she hissed at him from the corner of her mouth. 'You promised.'

  'I was knocked over in the rush and trampled flat,' he excused himself, and gestured to where Eve was surrounded by two youngish tutors and her husband.

  'She has a remote, untouchable air, don't you think? She looks as though she's operating on another plane.'

  'Upstairs with the baby, I expect.' Roz was flattening. Eve was not ethereal or remote, she was earthy and warm and her thoughts were rarely away from her family.

  'I've arranged the wedding,' Charles murmured in her ear as she made up her mind about shredded carrots in a vinaigrette sauce. 'This is the party which was the stumbling block and now it's nearly over. We'll be married on Wednesday!'

  Roz managed a smile because several people were watching. 'It sounds like a life sentence,' and she turned her attention back to the laden buffet table where she decided against the carrots and chose asparagus tips instead. 'Wouldn't you rather set me up in style and have your own private latchkey?'

  'Nothing so reprehensible.' His eyes slid over her thoughtfully. 'We're going to be married,' his tone was mockingly virtuous. 'It's so much more respectable.'

  She choked on a piece of salmon; that Charles should be talking about respectability! When her eyes had stopped watering, she flicked him a glance from under lowered lids. 'I wasn't thinking of anything that far ahead. I had something more elastic in mind.'

  'No,' he shook his head as he deliberated about the lobster patties. 'There won't be anything elastic about our relationship, my dear. It will conform strictly, with the accent on "strict".'

  Roz concealed her temper adequately, contenting herself with an answering nod. 'And if I refuse? If I just go on eating my supper and tell you that as far as I'm concerned the deal's off…'

  'Unwise, darling, and it might be painful.'

  'You'd beat me?' She raised a haughty eyebrow.

  'With pleasure!' and he moved aside to make room for the ethnic lady who was deploring the absence of sunflower seeds and who heaped her plate with the despised carrots as a sort of consolation prize. When she had gone, Charles moved in again.

  'Wednesday!' He was firm.

  Roz shook her head and looked at him pityingly. 'No, I can't do that,' and, before he could open his mouth to say something humiliating and hurtful, 'Eve,' she explained. 'She wouldn't understand the rush.'

  'And I don't understand the delay. You took me up quickly enough when it was a matter of saving your face. Are you playing for time, darling?'

  'The thing I most like about you is your trusting nature.' If Charles could be scathing, so could she.

  'I'm noted for it,' she caught the derisory gleam in his eyes. 'In any case, my plan has your sister's full approval. Being so happily married herself, she naturally wants you to go and do likewise. She quite understands our desire to get married as soon as possible; I believe she's afraid our ungovernable passions will get the better of us.'

  'Our passions!' Roz drank the contents of her wine glass—a very superior vintage which should have been treated with more respect—in one gulp.

  'Mmm.' She suspected she was being made fun of and she didn't like it. 'Unlike you,' Charles continued smoothly, 'your sister thinks I'm devastating and devastatingly right for you. She thinks I'm a chance in a million and she quite agrees that you shouldn't let any grass grow under your feet.'

  'I don't believe it, you're making it up! When did all this discussion take place?'

  'When I was doing her photographs.' He looked at her cynically. 'Both you and Golden Boy underrate your sister. She may lack your academic qualifications, but she's no fool. She'll be a lot happier when you're safely married.'

  'I'm glad you have somebody's happiness at heart,' Roz snapped out the words while maintaining an expression of sweet adoration for the benefit of the guests.

  Charles collected her empty plate. 'I aim to please,' he murmured. 'For instance, I'
ve made some fresh coffee, it's in the kitchen, would you like a cup? It's said to be good for irritability,' and he gripped her arm firmly and started to lead her out. Roz was glad, she was relishing the thought of a break from so many curious eyes. A break when she could let her hair down and say just a few of the biting, hurtful things, even yell them if she felt like it—but her hopes were doomed to disappointment. The ethnic lady cornered them before they could reach the safety of the doorway.

  'And when is the wedding to be?' She was arch.

  Roz jerked as if she had been caught in a volley of buckshot, but Charles rose to the occasion. He swung her round, laid a long finger on her lips and looked down at the lady with half-humorous approval.

  'I've been waiting for that question all evening,' and he said it in a tone which was perfectly audible throughout the dining room so that nearly everybody halted, forks halfway to their mouths and plates tipped dangerously. 'We're going to be married on Wednesday. It'll be a very quiet affair at half-past twelve in the Register Office in Brighton, but we hope you'll all join us at the hotel afterwards.' And amid congratulations, he hauled Roz out of the room and into the kitchen.

  'Why did you tell them that?' she wailed, feeling that she was being driven into a corner.

  'It seemed appropriate.' He was non-committal. 'Don't look so stricken, Roz. I made the arrangements yesterday and you've had plenty of time to get used to the idea. Just think of it—from Wednesday on, you'll be able to concentrate on me exclusively, and you will, won't you, dear?' It sounded more like a threat than a promise of happiness everlasting, and she quailed. 'We'll go up to town tomorrow morning,' Charles added, 'and we'll be staying overnight so pack a few things.'

  'Why?' She buried her nose in her coffee cup, refusing to look at him.

  'Me, to work,' he was reasonable, 'and you, to get something to be married in.'

  'But I can do my shopping in one morning,' she protested. 'We don't need to stay overnight.'