by Anne Mather
Taking her cue from Helen, however, Melanie did not pursue their discussion. Instead, after Mr Stubbs had offered his condolences and been sympathised with in return over his cut hand, she turned her attention to less personal matters. A swift run-down of the events of the past week included a description of the customer who had bought a rather unusual Chinese chess set and the handing over of a leaflet advertising a sale to be held in Derbyshire during the following week.
‘I was hoping you might be back in time for that,’ confessed Melanie ruefully. ‘George Keller says there should be some interesting pieces of pewter, and I believe the family had some distant connection with the Derby factory.’
‘Mmm, intriguing.’ Helen was glad to think about work for a change. ‘Well, I could probably drive up there next Monday. That would give me a couple of days to look round before the sale starts.’
Melanie nodded. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘So long as you don’t think Adam will mind you disappearing again so soon after your return.’
Helen expelled her breath with feeling. Adam! she thought heavily. It seemed as if she and Melanie couldn’t have a conversation without running up against one obstacle or another. And she suspected she knew how Adam would react about this.
‘He won’t object, will he?’ Sensitive to her friend’s mood, Melanie lifted her head from the column of figures in front of her and gave Helen an inquiring look. ‘He will object,’ she amended drily. ‘I can see it in your face. What’s happened? Don’t say you’ve fallen out with him, too.’
Helen hesitated, and then, with a weary shrug, she slumped into the chair opposite. ‘As a matter of fact, Adam and I have had a difference of opinion,’ she admitted. ‘Oh—not about Castle Howarth,’ she added, as Melanie started to protest. ‘About our wedding, actually. Adam doesn’t want me to go on working after we’re married.’
Melanie’s eyes widened. ‘I see.’ She made a helpless gesture. ‘How about you?’
‘Well, I do, obviously. I mean, what would I do all day, when Adam’s at the office?’
‘Have you asked him that?’
‘Of course I have.’
‘And?’
Helen sighed. ‘Oh, he says I’ll have plenty to do. As far as he’s concerned, I should be able to fill my time by supporting charities and doing good works!’ She grimaced. ‘Can you see me in that role? I mean, honestly, I have great admiration for anyone who works for charity, but I want a proper job.’
Melanie bit her lip. ‘Well, I suppose Adam thinks you will have a proper job, as his wife.’ She shook her head. ‘Look, don’t think I like playing devil’s advocate, but if you get pregnant …’
‘I shan’t.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Because Adam doesn’t want children. Not immediately, anyway. He wants us to travel. He says there are dozens of places he wants us to visit. And, of course, he’ll expect me to be there to cheer him on when he goes skiing, or enters his yacht in the Fastnet Race!’
Melanie regarded her sympathetically. ‘You know, some women would think you were crazy, grumbling about that kind of a life!’
‘Do you?’
Melanie considered. ‘Maybe.’ She paused. ‘And it has to be said, if you love Adam, you should want to be with him.’
‘Twenty-four hours a day!’ Helen was appalled.
Melanie dimpled. ‘Who’s counting?’
‘I would be,’ retorted Helen grimly. ‘Oh, God! I wish he hadn’t put this on me!’
‘You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.’ Melanie returned to her figures. ‘You may have changed your mind by the time you get to setting the date. Do you have any idea, by the way? Just so I can organise my calendar?’ She chuckled.
‘July,’ said Helen flatly. ‘If it ever gets that far. I haven’t seen him since yesterday afternoon. We had lunch together, but I cried off a dinner date.’ She grimaced. ‘I think we both realised we needed a cooling-off period.’
‘So this trip to Derbyshire may be just what you need,’ observed Melanie, regarding the third total she had achieved with some frustration. ‘Oh, give me the calculator, will you, darling? My maths doesn’t get any better.’
Adam rang just before five o’clock. Melanie answered the phone, and then held it out to Helen, mouthing the identity of the caller. ‘Couldn’t you tell him I’m out?’ mouthed Helen in return, but Melanie shook the receiver at her, and she was obliged to take it.
‘Adam? What a surprise!’
‘Hypocrite,’ mumbled Melanie, as she sauntered out of the office, and Helen couldn’t exactly blame her.
‘Helen!’ He sounded relieved. ‘I tried the apartment, and when you weren’t there, I guessed you must have decided to go to the shop. I suppose it was pretty miserable for you at home.’
‘I do have a job of work to do, Adam,’ she retorted, stung by his condescension.
‘Well, yes.’ He didn’t argue, although his choice of words was vaguely insulting. ‘But everyone is entitled to compassionate leave, and it occurred to me that now might be as good a time as any to get away.’
‘To get away?’ Helen felt blank. ‘To get away where?’
‘Oh, I thought perhaps East Africa—or the Seychelles. A couple of weeks in the sun is just what we both need. And then, when we get back, we can think about announcing our engagement.’
Helen took the phone away from her ear and stared at it. Oh Lord, she thought, feeling a blind sense of panic gripping her. She didn’t want to go away! She didn’t want to go away with him! The idea of spending two whole weeks in his company—nights as well as days—filled her with consternation.
‘Helen! Helen, are you still there?’
His voice was faint, but audible, and putting the receiver back to her ear, she acknowledged that she was. ‘I—this is very sudden, Adam,’ she murmured unhappily, delaying her response. ‘I’ve just had a week off, and—and Melanie is planning a trip to Switzerland.’
‘When?’
Helen moistened her lips. ‘Soon.’
‘How soon?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Helen was getting desperate. ‘She was supposed to leave last week, but what with my being away, and Mr Stubbs gashing his hand, she had to postpone it. I—I can’t ask her to postpone it again.’
There was silence for a few moments, and then Adam said coldly: ‘Isn’t this exactly the situation I was talking about yesterday? You’re tied to that shop at all times! If you had an experienced assistant you could call on on occasions like these, you wouldn’t even have to consider my invitation!’
‘Adam, the shop may be paying its way, but if we were to employ another assistant, it wouldn’t!’
‘It wouldn’t need to,’ he retorted shortly. ‘You could become what they euphemistically call ‘a sleeping partner’. For heaven’s sake, if it’s money you’re worried about, I’ll make a contribution!’
‘No!’
‘Helen!’
‘I mean it.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I don’t need your money, Adam. I—I’m quite happy doing what I’m doing.’
‘And if I’m not?’
It was another ultimatum, but Helen wasn’t ready to face it. ‘Please,’ she said unsteadily, ‘don’t do this to me. Don’t you think you’re being a little unreasonable? I—I haven’t said I won’t consider giving up my work when we get married. Just—don’t push me.’
The silence that followed was riven by her laboured breathing, but her hand over the mouthpiece prevented him from hearing. And just when she thought he was going to demand a decision from her, he relented. ‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘Perhaps it is too soon after your grandmother’s funeral to expect you to sever all ties with the past. Okay, I won’t pressure you into going with me, but I want you to know that I do not intend to change my plans.’
Helen breathed more easily. ‘You’re going to—to Africa?’
‘Kenya, actually,’ he agreed, somewhat stiffly. ‘I had intended to give you the choice, but if I�
�m to go alone, then I might as well spend some time with people I know.’
Helen felt almost light-headed with relief. ‘You—you know people in Kenya?’
‘I have friends in Nairobi,’ he replied brusquely. ‘The Latimers. I don’t believe you’ve met them.’
‘No.’ Helen was eager to placate him. ‘I—when are you leaving?’
‘At the end of the week.’ Adam paused, before adding distantly: ‘I shall be pretty tied-up for the next few days. I suggest we have dinner on Thursday evening. A sort of farewell party, if you like.’
‘All right.’ Helen wondered at her own duplicity. ‘Ring me Thursday morning.’
‘Very well.’
He rang off a few moments later and Helen was still standing, as if in a trance, when Melanie appeared in the doorway.
‘Trouble?’
‘No.’ Helen pulled herself together, and gazed at her friend with troubled eyes. ‘Adam’s going away for a couple of weeks. To East Africa.’
Melanie looked puzzled. ‘On his own?’
‘Well …’ Helen shifted a little uneasily. ‘He did invite me, but—I said I couldn’t go.’
‘Why not?’
Helen caught her breath. ‘You know why not. Who’s going to go to that sale in Derbyshire if I’m not here? And what about your holiday?’
‘I told you my holiday wasn’t important,’ Melanie insisted flatly. ‘For heaven’s sake, if you want to go away for a while, I’ll quite understand. Particularly after what’s happened.’
Helen turned away. ‘And if I don’t?’
‘Then I’d say you had some pretty serious thinking to do about your relationship with Adam,’ declared Melanie bluntly. ‘Mr God! I can’t think of any other reason why you’d turn down a break like that!’
Helen lifted one shoulder. ‘If I go away with Adam now, he’ll never take my interest in the business seriously,’ she said defensively. ‘I thought you’d understand. You said yourself a cooling-off period might be what we both need.’
‘That was when we were talking about a three-day stint in Derbyshire,’ replied Melanie impatiently. ‘Letting Adam fly—what?—six thousand miles on his own? That’s a whole different ball-game.’
‘What are you afraid of?’ Helen tried to be flippant. ‘That he’ll find someone else?’
‘There’s always that possibility,’ said Melanie sagely. ‘Imagine how you’d feel if he did come back from Africa with some glamorous socialite in tow!’
Helen considered that eventuality again later that evening while she was eating a helping of the steak and kidney pie Mrs Argyll had left in the fridge, ready for micro-heating. She knew it was not as outrageous a probability as it had at first sounded. Adam was an attractive man, after all, and before she came on the scene, he had had no shortage of girl-friends. The fact that her advent into his life had changed all that did not alter his circumstances. He was still one of the smart-set’s most eligible bachelors, and his aristocratic background ensured him a place in any society.
So what was she doing, letting him take off for one of the most exciting capitals of the world without her? It would serve her right if he did find someone else, she reflected. She had no doubt he would take the opportunity to go down to Mombasa for a weekend at least, and all those bikini-clad bodies were bound to be an irresistible temptation. Yet, all she truly felt was—indifference. And she didn’t know why.
The dinner date on Thursday evening was not a success. Although Helen endeavoured to act naturally, the imminent presence of Adam’s trip made Small-talk the only safeguard. She was aware that they were both assiduously avoiding any personal observations, and in consequence their conversation was both stilted and contrived.
It was an undoubted relief when the meal was over and they could escape to the comparative neutrality of the car. But as Maclaren was driving them this evening, there was little opportunity for a private discussion, and afterwards, when Adam was conducting her to her door, he was decidedly aloof.
‘So,’ he said, after taking her key from her and using it to effect an entry, ‘this is goodbye.’
Helen swallowed unhappily. ‘I—won’t you come in for a nightcap?’ she offered, realising she was to blame for his detachment, and despising herself for it. ‘I mean—it’s not very late.’
But for once Adam refused her invitation. ‘Not when Mac’s waiting for me,’ he declined, ignoring the fact that Maclaren had waited on numerous other occasions. ‘I think I’ll just say goodnight here. I’ve still got one or two things to attend to before I leave tomorrow.’
‘But your flight’s not until tomorrow evening, is it?’ Helen protested, remembering the schedules from shipping orders Melanie had made in the past, and Adam sighed.
‘No, it’s not,’ he agreed. ‘But I still think it’s a good idea if we say goodnight now. Before either of us says something we might later regret. With luck, I’ll see you in two weeks. Until then, don’t do anything rash.’
‘Like what?’
Helen looked up at him warily, and with an exclamation of frustration, Adam took her face between his hands. ‘I wasn’t going to say this, but it’s not too late,’ he muttered fiercely. ‘You can still change your mind and come with me. I don’t have to take tomorrow’s flight. We could make it Saturday instead. I’m sure you won’t need more than forty-eight hours to make all the necessary arrangements.’
His mouth was urgent on hers, but although she succeeded in convincing him she did not find his attentions undesirable, her rueful expression was an answer in itself.
‘I just hope you know what you’re doing,’ he declared roughly when her evident reluctance became apparent. He thrust her away from him and strode angrily towards the lifts. ‘I’ll ring you,’ he added, without turning back and, as the lift doors closed behind him, she knew a desperate longing for the way things used to be.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE weekend was long and uneventful. After declining Melanie’s invitation to lunch on Sunday, Helen spent the time catching up on the newspapers, deliberately turning on the television to fill any conscious gaps. She knew she was avoiding any consideration of the direction her relationship with Adam was taking, but she excused herself on the grounds that it was still too soon to make any hasty judgements. She would think about her feelings when they were not so raw. Right now she was afraid of where her thoughts might lead her.
She drove up to Derby on Monday as planned, and spent two days evaluating the items to be auctioned on the Wednesday. The house, whose contents were coming under the auctioneer’s hammer, reminded her of Castle Howarth, and in consequence she spent more than she should on some rather inferior pieces. Melanie would think she was crazy paying several thousand pounds for a scarred rosewood bureau, she knew, but it looked so much like the writing desk her grandmother used to use, she couldn’t resist the extravagance. She would buy it herself, she decided, if Melanie complained. She could use it in the flat, to keep her own correspondence in order. It might look a little incongruous among so much that was modern, but she could afford to be frivolous with the allowance her grandmother had left her.
She drove back to town on Thursday morning and, after giving Melanie a full report, she spent the rest of the afternoon doing some much-needed shopping. She had neglected any personal requirements for almost three weeks, and she spent some time sampling perfumes and picking out a selection of new cosmetics.
A telegram from Adam awaited her back at the flat. Evidently he had tried to ring without any success, so he had fallen back on this less-immediate means of communication. Its content was brief, merely a confirmation that he had arrived safely, and giving the Latimers’ telephone number. If you change your mind, don’t hesitate to ring, he had finished pointedly, and Helen wished it could be that simple.
She had phoned Mrs Argyll the night before to tell her she would be back the following afternoon, and the appetising aroma of chicken fricassee met her nostrils as soon as she entered the kitchen.
A bowl of tossed salad resided in the fridge, alongside a mouthwatering lemon meringue pie, and a jug of fresh coffee perked softly over a flame. Helen smiled. It was obviously her daily woman’s opinion, too, that she needed to put on a few pounds. And she would, she reflected, if she ate all this rich food. She just wished she felt more hungry.
Deciding she would eat later, Helen hung the clothes she had been wearing away and pushed any dirty items in the washer. Then, she took a shower and, after towelling herself dry, dressed in an emerald-green satin caftan she usually only wore about the apartment. Leaving her hair loose, she secured it at her nape with a barrette. She wasn’t expecting any company, and it would be good to relax in her own home after three nights at a rather indifferent hotel.
She had succumbed to the need for some independent means to help her relax when the house phone rang. It was after six, and Helen lifted the receiver with some impatience. She had informed the commissionaire downstairs that she intended to have an early night; and, aside from the fact that both Adam and Melanie were known to him personally and would not have encountered any obstruction, Adam was in Nairobi, and Melanie was attending a political rally with her father. Besides, she could think of no one who would call without ringing her first, and she clutched the tumbler of Scotch and soda she had poured herself with just a little trepidation.
‘Miss Michaels?’ The commissionaire was deferential. ‘I’ve got a young man here who says he’s your cousin. Shall I send him up?’
Helen reached for the back of the sofa to support herself. ‘My—cousin?’ she echoed faintly, wishing she had been more prepared. But all she could think of was that Rafe was here, in London, and unless she wanted to arouse the commissionaire’s curiosity, she could hardly send him away.
‘Helen!’ Rafe had evidently taken the phone himself, and now his low, distinctive voice scraped her nerves. ‘I’ve brought something for you. Something you left behind.’
