“But how are you going to recognise her if there’s more than one female under the clock at six?”
“Introduce myself to the best looking one of course.”
“On the basis it will be the other but you’ll have enjoyed chatting up the looker.”
“Good plan.”
“What about that?” Dave pointed out a tall, slender girl with a bag slung over her shoulder, walking with her head held high, her dark hair almost reaching the small of her back, drawing attention to the neat bottom in tight jeans. They all looked at her but only Tim spoke. “Nice arse. Wouldn’t say no.”
“Hold on Tim, you’re getting engaged this weekend. Remember?”
“That’s never going to stop me looking.”
“Or more if it suits you?”
“Back in a bit, got to make room for more beer.” Tim made his excuses but didn’t go in the direction of the Gents.
He had noticed the girl walking out of the station and he had to follow her. As he walked up the Strand a discreet few yards behind the girl Tim wondered what the hell he was doing getting engaged to Margaret. It seemed to him that he had known her forever and that, between the two families, it had always been a matter of when, not if, they would get engaged. He watched the girl’s bottom in the tight jeans as she walked and found the contrast with his future wife’s figure obscene. Margaret had her good points, she was sensible, she would make a good home and she would be perfectly acceptable to all his future colleagues, but she was not in any way physically attractive. As the girl he was following was. One day he would have his own practice and then he would need a wife to look after his comforts and, when he could afford it without inconveniencing his quality of life, she would present him with the two children, a boy then a girl, to complete the aura of respectability. For all that Margaret would be eminently more suitable than this girl whose hair shone as it swished from side to side as she walked. He thought it rather a shame that he was going to marry someone who he didn’t like very much. He had never pretended his marriage to Margaret was to be anything other than one of convenience arranged as it had been by their mothers. He had every intention of finding his entertainment elsewhere, with girls like this one. He knew, if they ever met, he would like her very much.
He just stopped in time to prevent bumping into her as she stood looking towards the Savoy. He looked down quickly to check his watch, she couldn’t be Anya as Anya would be under the clock nervously awaiting his arrival. He turned and headed back to the station, there would just be time for Dave to get in another round before six.
“There’s that girl again.”
Tim was back in the bar with Dave and John as Anya walked across the forecourt and stopped under the clock.
“Christ! It can’t be her. Surely not?”
They all stared at the girl, taking in the tan, the curves under the t-shirt, the shape of her body and length of her legs clearly emphasised by the tight jeans.
“High heels and jeans! That’s unusual.”
“And such tight jeans.”
“Such very, very tight jeans.”
“Such a white t-shirt. Don’t you think that white t-shirts are far better than dark coloured ones…”
“for emphasising curves…”
“And what curves.”
When she headed towards the Ladies they looked at each other and laughed. “Of course it’s not her.” Tim failed to hide his disappointment from his friends as they sat drinking, staring at the space under the clock.
“Bloody hell Tim. Look.” John indicated the girl leaving the Ladies and heading for the clock.
“No!”
“Coincidence.”
“She’ll be moving on before then. There is absolutely no way Geoffers could pull that one.” Tim liked Geoff about as much as he liked his sister. They finished their pints and still the girl hadn’t moved from under the clock. She was looking round her as if expecting someone.
“It must be her. Come on Tim.”
“Stay here.” For no reason he could have explained meeting this girl was very important to Tim and he didn’t want his friends to mess everything up. “She’s meeting me not the three of us.”
“She’ll have to meet us all sooner or later.”
Anya, standing directly under the clock, couldn’t see the time but she was fairly sure it was after six. She was beginning to plan what she could do if Tim didn’t turn up when she was approached by three men.
“Are you, by any wonderful chance, called Anya?”
“Tim?”
“No I’m John.” He gave a slight bow, hamming up chivalry.
She turned away to a shorter man. “Tim?”
“No I’m Dave, but still delighted to make your acquaintance.”
“So you must be Tim.”
“Absolutely. That’s me.”
Anya looked up at the bluest of blue, almost violet, eyes. Tim was tall, even in her high heels he stood at least four inches above her. He was taller even than Geoff. Those eyes were set in a tanned face which was framed with a mess of curly blond hair. His fingers, hooked around the tag of his suit jacket which was slung over his shoulder in a pose of studied nonchalance, were long and tapered, the nails perfectly manicured.
“I’m Anya.”
They held their look, each appraising the other, for more than a fraction too long.
“Come on at this rate we’ll miss the train.” David brought the moment to an end but only after catching John’s eye and raising a quizzical eyebrow.
Anya was in her element, she knew she had their attention and she held it. By the time the train pulled into Tunbridge Wells station she had three admirers, at least one of whom was determined to get to know her extremely well before the end of the weekend.
“Goodbye Dave, John.” She carefully looked at each of them in turn as she said goodbye. “It’s been a fun journey.”
“We’ll see you at the party.”
“Oh good. I’m glad I’ll know someone there.”
“You know Geoff!”
“Of course. Geoff.” As the train had hurtled through the Kent countryside she had almost forgotten she was about to see Geoff for the first time in more than week.
“Come on Anya, let me take your bag.” Tim flung it over his shoulder, glaring at John and Dave. “We’ll be expected up at the house. See you at the pub later.” He was smiling broadly as he watched Dave and John heading up the hill while he led Anya in the opposite direction.
“They’re nice guys.” Anya started the conversation, easily keeping up with Tim as they walked across the common despite her high heeled sandals.
“Known them for years, since we were all kids really. And Geoff, though he’s a lot younger of course.”
“Not a lot surely?”
“Five years.”
“What’s Geoff’s mum like?” Anya knew that in the next few minutes she would be under the strict evaluation of Geoff’s mother and sister and they would be a lot more difficult to win round than the three young men.
“To be honest…”
“Please.”
“She’s a snobbish, possessive old bat. For years she’s made Margaret and Geoff do exactly what she wants them to do. Geoff was really brave to escape to Liverpool, that really pissed her off.”
“Are Margaret and Geoff close? He never speaks of her.”
“No. Not at all. Geoff has always been his mother’s favourite that’s why Margaret’s getting engaged to me.”
“It’s funny that. I mean you’re ‘getting engaged’ as an event. Surely you ‘got engaged’ when you asked her to marry you and she said yes?”
“It doesn’t work like that. I never actually asked her. I suppose it’s just been assumed we’d get engaged one day.”
“Assumed?” Anya laughed and she noticed the look Tim gave her, at once speculative, enquiring and admiring.
“Our families have known each other for years, we’re the right age for each other. You know.”
“I don’t have any say in that either.” He tried to make a joke of it but as he spoke he realised the truth in the words. “Margaret and her mother and my mother will get together and set the date.”
“I know I’ve only known you half an hour but I hadn’t put you down as such a drip.”
He had no time to defend himself. Instead he attacked.
“That ring? Is it from Geoff?”
“Oh God no! It’s…” Her voice changed, becoming suddenly serious, “It was my mother’s. She’s dead. She didn’t leave me much but she left me this.” She didn’t know Tim well enough to explain, she hadn’t even explained it to Geoff. But then Geoff had never asked.
“I’m sorry.” Tim was thinking fast. Half formed thoughts raced through his mind. Well spoken, though with the slightest hint of a Merseyside lilt, no family, a casually worn ring worth at least five hundred pounds. She was obviously not after Geoff’s money.
“Here we are, the Philips family residence.”
Anya had a good first look at the house that would eventually mean so much to her. It was detached and large and set well back from the road, surrounded by trees. She had had no idea Geoff was this well off. She had assumed he lived in a three bed-roomed semi-detached house like everyone who was middle class, even Henrietta, did. This was a really big house, a rich family’s house.
As they reached the front door and Tim rang the doorbell Anya wondered why they hadn’t gone round to the back door, after all he was about to marry into the family. As they waited for the door to open he handed her her bag and she rewarded him with a kiss on his lips to which he responded far too enthusiastically for a man about to become engaged. He only stepped back when they heard the door opening. She wondered why it had taken so long for the bell to be answered, Geoff must have known what time they would be arriving.
Anya had no experience of families but had an uncomfortable feeling that she would not get on well with this one.
“Is everything ready?” Kathleen Philips looked critically around the large living room and strode out through the French windows to the garden.
“Yes Mother, you’ve thought of everything.” Margaret, walking slightly behind her mother, tried to catch her up.
“Really, that girl!” They both looked across the lawn at Anya who was carefully snipping a rose from one of the bushes and putting it in Geoff’s button hole.
“She doesn’t know any better Mother.”
“I really don’t know what he sees in her.”
“Yes you do mother.”
“She’s not suitable at all.”
“It’s just a university thing.”
“He’s brought her down for your party when everyone will be here.”
“But he’s not going to get engaged to her or anything.”
“Maybe not but have you seen the ring she’s wearing? How could she have got hold of a ring like that if Geoffrey hadn’t given it to her?”
“Can you just leave worrying about my little brother until tomorrow? Tonight is supposed to be about me and Tim.”
“Of course darling, of course. You look very nice.”
Margaret knew the compliment was an afterthought, and a lie as she felt frumpish and old fashioned. The green evening dress made her feel awkward, its boned bodice emphasised her lack of figure and the colour reflected on her shiny face and made her look nauseous. She had wanted to look good for Tim, he always looked so distinguished in his dinner jacket and she had wanted to look as attractive as Anya, but she had failed. Whatever she wore she would never look as good as Anya.
“Just be yourself darling. Tim loves you as you are.” Kathleen tried to be encouraging but was unconvincing.
As she watched Anya in the garden she tried to make an objective comparison between her daughter and her son’s girlfriend. Anya had the advantage of being tall and having a very good figure whereas Margaret was short of average height and was the typical English shape with breasts too small and hips too large. Anya’s hair was long straight and shone with a slight copper tinge as it hung down the length of her bare tanned back. Margaret’s short, light brown, wavy hair never stayed in place for long and the hairdresser had not done a good job, forcing every hair into place with far too much hairspray. Anya’s dress, Kathleen had to admit, made her look simultaneously innocent and sophisticated, whereas Margaret’s dress had undoubtedly been a mistake. She wondered what it was that Anya saw in Geoffrey, a man like Tim would be far more her type. It had, undoubtedly, to be his money.
“I don’t think he loves me at all. I have no idea why he wants to get engaged. He’s only doing it because you and Esme have had it planned since I was born.” Margaret sounded on the verge of tears and Kathleen turned her attention back to her daughter. “That is not true, darling. Esme loves her son as much as I love you. We would never want anything for either of you that would bring unhappiness.”
“But it is what you both wanted.”
“Of course it is darling. You should have no doubts at all, it is such a suitable alliance. Tim will make you very happy.” She kissed her daughter on the cheek. “You look lovely when you smile. Now Geoffrey. Here please.” She turned her attention to ensuring the smooth running of the evening.
“There’s Tim.” Margaret smiled as her mother left her. She walked uncertainly towards her future husband. She was really going to try.
Tim gave Margaret a hug and kissed her briefly on the cheek. He never liked to show affection in public even when he felt it. As he did his duty by Margaret he watched as Dave and John headed straight for Anya who was standing alone now Geoff had been cajoled by his mother into arranging the closest members of the two families into a formal welcoming line for the arrival of the guests.
Tim took every opportunity to look at Anya, something not lost on his future mother-in-law. Her dress was sheer, so slim fitting that he decided she could be wearing no underwear at all. If she had been there would have been lines in the outline of the dress, and there weren’t. He began to feel inappropriate arousal.
To calm himself down he turned back to Margaret in the green dress. It looked like it was a shell around her, protecting her from any contact with any man. He took his future wife by the arm and, as he led her towards her mother, he was put in mind of the aristocrats in the French Revolution being led towards the guillotine. He listened dutifully to Mrs Philips as she instructed him on his role in the receiving line. He smiled, playing the part of the soon-to-be-son-in-law. He’d had a lot of practice at playing roles while his mind was somewhere else entirely.
Anya looked at the receiving line as she talked to Dave and John.
“Why are they doing that?” she asked “It’s so, I don’t know, so old fashioned.”
“That’s Mrs Philips’s way.”
“I thought that sort of thing went out before the war.”
“It probably did.”
“But try telling Mrs Philips that!”
Anya was pleased she had these two to talk to.
“Did I say how lovely you look tonight?” Dave spoke tentatively.
“That’s a nice pre-war thing to say.”
“No I mean it. You look…” Dave tried to find the right word and gave up.
John completed his sentence for him. “Stunning. Absolutely beautiful.”
“Why thank you kind sirs.” Anya smiled and did a small curtsey that only served to show Dave and John more of her cleavage beneath the flattering folds of the cowl neck.
“It’s such a silly idea that reception line,” Anya said, this time with some seriousness, “just look at them.”
Kathleen stood nearest the door, the first to welcome her guests. Geoff stood next to her, with what, he told her later, was a mixture of embarrassment and pride at taking his father’s place. Margaret stood next to
him then Tim with his mother on his right.
“Doesn’t Tim have a father either?” She asked.
“They divorced when Tim was 18. There was an enormous scandal. Sex obviously.” Dave explained.
“He was thrown out of the Golf Club and the Rugby Club and everything.” John spoke as if that was the worst thing that could possibly happen to anyone. “But then he died and all was forgiven when it was too late.”
Looking at Tim and Margaret together Anya knew that any relationship, let alone a marriage, was doomed. There was no spark between them, they seemed barely to be talking to each other on what should be the happiest occasion. Anya watched and understood that Margaret would never be able to handle Tim, he was a taker never a giver, whose appetites would always rule his actions. He reminded her of so many of her mother’s men. Anya didn’t feel in the least sorry for Margaret, if she didn’t have the brains to rebel against what her mother was doing to her then that was no-one’s fault but her own.
She turned her attention to Geoff. He talked a short time to everyone who shook his hand, engaging them with his intelligent brown eyes. She had seen the photographs in the living room and had, at first, thought them to be of Geoff but once she recognised the woman to be a young, attractive, slim version of Kathleen she realised the man had to be Geoff’s father. Geoff really was very like him, even to their identical prematurely receding hairlines. She watched Geoff for some minutes but he never once looked towards her. He must have realised she knew no one and she would have thought, hoped, that he would be concerned about her but he had been absorbed into the role of son, brother and father replacement. In a slight lull in arrivals Mrs Philips looked up at her son and smiled. Anya was chilled by the look they gave each other. This was a Geoff she did not know, did not recognise and didn’t like very much.
“Dave?” she asked, unsure whether she should go this far. “Have you ever wondered if Mrs Philips is just a wee bit too possessive?”
“You’ve noticed that?”
“It’s pretty bloody obvious.”
“She’s always been like that. It’s because Mr Philips died, you know, on the day Geoff was born.”
Highly Unsuitable Girl Page 8
