Distant Voices

by Barbara Erskine

  Mr Percival smiled. ‘But it doesn’t have a pretty chime and glitter with diamonds, eh?’

  ‘Oh Daddy, I don’t know what to do. If I sell the clock I’ll have the money, yes. But supposing I am a lousy model? It would be such a waste. I could never buy another clock like that.’

  Mr Percival rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

  ‘As I see it there’s no easy way to decide, love. I know what I’d do. I’d sell. I know what your mother would do. She’d keep it for sentimental reasons. And she’d keep it even if she were half starving.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘But there’s no real hurry, is there? If I were you I’d think about it for a while.’

  Jacqueline sat on the bed gazing at the clock for a long time after he had gone downstairs.

  For half an hour she thought, listening as twice the clock chimed the quarters; then slowly she reached under her pillow for the magazine. It was folded back as always at the modelling school’s advertisement. For further particulars, write to …

  There was no harm in writing. After all, it didn’t commit her to anything, did it? Carefully she filled in her name and address. Then, hungry, she turned out the light and went downstairs.

  Dance Little Lady

  The yacht was in the bay again, anchored off the point, as I had hoped she might be. For a moment I forgot the need to hurry as I stood at the tall bay window of my bedroom and stared at it, hugging my dressing gown around me. The breeze off the sea touched my skin and I shivered. I was thinking about the evening to come.

  ‘Only a few people this weekend, darling,’ Sylvia had said anxiously as she met me off the train. ‘It won’t be too tiring.’

  It is strange how solicitous some people are when they know you are recovering from a broken love affair; as if you had been ill. Except that I was the one who had broken it off, because for me it had never really existed. I was grateful, though, for her gentleness. I liked the woman my father lived with, even though I hated my father. It was because of her I still came home. Her, and the money my father paid for my London flat.

  I turned reluctantly from the window. My hopes of a quiet weekend, swimming and sailing on my own while I thought things out, were gone. Instead the weekend had to be endured. But somehow the presence of the yacht, out there on the water, comforted me. I had seen her there several times that summer, always with the same man on board. I had surreptitiously studied him through binoculars. He was tall, fair and tanned. The opposite of Ben.

  Dear Ben. I was still fond of him in spite of all the things he had called me. Perhaps he was right; perhaps I was immature and frigid; perhaps I did live in a dream world – my fantasy about the skipper of that white yacht rather proved that – but was it so very terrible to reject the cynicism and world weariness that people like Ben, and my father, wore round them like a cloak? I was sure the man out on that yacht was different; an independent spirit.

  My father’s guests were assembled in the drawing room when I went down. The only car I had recognised when Sylvia brought me home had been my brother David’s Alfa and I saw him now with two other men by the open French windows. Sylvia was by the sideboard; with her was David’s wife, Betinne. My heart sank. I loathed my sister-in-law.

  She looked me up and down as I accepted a glass of champagne from Sylvia. ‘I hear Ben ditched you, Anna,’ she said. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised.’ She sipped her own drink. ‘Don must be relieved though, if it means you can dance attendance on his guests.’ She managed to make her words sound suggestive.

  I saw Sylvia frown, but I didn’t want her to defend me. I hastily turned to look round the room. ‘Where is Father? I haven’t seen him yet.’

  ‘Don is next door. With Parker Forbes,’ Sylvia said quietly.

  ‘The Parker Forbes,’ Betinne emphasised. She was still watching me with a rather strange look in her eye.

  Parker Forbes; the multi-millionaire; owner of half the West End of London. My father had been trying to pin him down to a deal for ages and his name had been the most frequent topic of conversation at weekends for months.

  Sylvia was eyeing me anxiously. ‘I think you’ll like him, Anna. He’s very attractive. And he likes music.’

  Suddenly I understood. The urgent invitation home; the sudden concern over my welfare; the interest in my break-up with Ben. And I had thought Sylvia was on my side!

  Once before my father had done this; he had invited a colleague home and then proceeded to throw me at him for the entire weekend. I had been younger then, and more naïve. The man had taken pity on me; laughed at my gaucheness, and signed anyway. But I had a feeling Parker Forbes was different. His reputation had percolated through even to my particular corner of the College of Music.

  I turned away without a word, conscious of their eyes following me as, sickened, I crossed the room towards David. I should have walked away then, but I knew my brother would cushion my shyness as he always did and sure enough he reached out and pulled me close for a hug. ‘Anna, how’s the college? I don’t see enough of you these days,’ and he introduced me to his two companions.

  David was the only person in that house who knew me as I really was; who knew me in London, in my own world, away from father’s wealth and the shallow pleasure-seeking life he led. In London I had my own career with music. Ben had almost bridged those two worlds but something had gone wrong. I eyed the two men standing with us. They were typical of father’s colleagues; wealthy, brash, hard-drinking, laughing a little too much – and I sighed. The whole weekend to be got through.

  I did not meet the other guests until dinner. Melanie Whittacker, the wife of one of David’s companions, was a strangely mousey woman; quiet, cowed I suspected by her boorish husband. I was immediately sorry for her. With her were two other women: Naomi who I gathered was a model and Jane Peters. The final two guests were Robin Hamilton, the journalist – and Parker Forbes.

  Robin sat opposite me. He was a tall, attractive man, tanned, fit, charming – the kind of man who makes every woman instantly aware of him, and knows it. Betinne was hanging on his every word as he regaled her and Melanie Whittacker with a stream of scandalous gossip, but I got the feeling that he did not reciprocate her enthusiasm. Once, looking up, he caught my eye over the glow of the candles and I was almost sure he winked. I felt a quick thrill of pleasure and was instantly furious with myself.

  I had no chance to think about it, though, as my attention was once more drawn back to my father and Parker Forbes.

  ‘You must get Anna to take you out onto the terrace later, Parker,’ my father was saying for the second time. ‘Let her show you our Sussex moon …’

  I couldn’t believe that he could be so blatant! I glanced desperately round for David, but he was talking at the other end of the table. There was nothing I could do except smile and nod and pretend that I agreed.

  And I was still pretending half an hour later when Parker edged me towards the French windows and we stepped out with our coffee cups in our hands, into the velvet night. It was heavenly to get away from the hot cigar smoke and fumes of the wine. The sea air was balmy, softened with honeysuckle and the sweetness of new-mown hay.

  He wasted no time. ‘I had no idea that Don had such a beautiful home,’ he murmured. We had paused at the edge of the terrace looking down across the lawn towards the sea which I could hear sighing gently against the rocks. ‘And such charming ladies too. How long has he known Sylvia?’

  ‘A couple of years,’ I replied. Sylvia was the latest, and by far the nicest, of the succession of girlfriends my father had lived with since my mother had left him ten years before. Ma now lived with a horse breeder in Argentina. I never blamed her for going. My father had always been a ruthless, selfish bastard. I only wished I had had the strength of character and the courage to turn my back on him as well.

  Parker and I began to walk again, slowly this time, towards the summer house which Sylvia had had perched on the top of the low cliff. I could feel the dew beginning to soak through my thin
sandals and dragging at the hem of my skirt. Somewhere near a gull called in the night.

  ‘Do you like her?’ he asked curiously. He still hadn’t looked at me.

  ‘Very much,’ I answered.

  ‘I imagine she takes a lot of work off your hands. Don told me you used to act as his hostess.’

  I laughed uneasily. ‘I was never very good at it I’m afraid.’

  ‘I can’t believe that.’ His voice was caressing. ‘In fact, had I know what a welcome his house would have for me I would have been doing business with Don months ago.’

  He turned to look at me, a long appraising glance which swept slowly up and down me leaving me feeling naked and self-conscious, then he took the cup out of my hand and put it down on the step of the summer house with his own. He was much taller than I, and powerfully built, and as his hands came down on my shoulders pulling me towards him I felt a surge of real fear.

  ‘Mind if I join you?’ As the cool, deep voice from the darkness interrupted us Parker released me abruptly and turned, his face set and angry. The journalist Robin Hamilton strolled towards us, the glowing butt of a cigar in his hand. He stopped, and stood looking at the view about three feet from me. ‘You must not catch cold, Anna,’ he said quietly. ‘That dress is soaking, dragging in the dew.’

  ‘You’re right.’ I could have kissed him from sheer relief. ‘Excuse me, Parker, but I think I will go in.’

  I didn’t wait to see Parker’s face. I flew towards the lights of the house.

  My father cornered me ten minutes later. His handsome face was harsh.

  ‘Anna? I thought you were looking after Parker?’

  I liked the looking after bit! ‘I was. I came in.’ I faced him. ‘I’m not going to let him make passes at me, Don, just to make him more amenable to your schemes. The man is detestable!’

  My father’s face darkened visibly. ‘And you don’t like it? What the hell are you, Anna, a twelve-year-old virgin? For God’s sake grow up. Do you realise what Parker’s signature on that agreement means to me?’ We were standing in the corner of the dining room where I had been finding myself some more coffee and we were alone, but with a glance over his shoulder towards the open door into the hall, he dropped his voice to an ugly whisper.

  ‘You be nice to Parker, Anna. You hear me? Everyone in this house pulls their weight and if they don’t they’re out, understand?’ He stared at me for a full twenty seconds then he swung on his heel and left me alone in the room.

  Mechanically I finished filling my cup and carried it over to the window seat. But the drink stayed untouched as I gazed at the coloured reflections in the glass.

  The sound of the door closing behind me made me turn. It was Betinne. ‘I saw Don leave you,’ she said softly. ‘He looked livid. What did he say?’

  ‘Is that your business?’ I snapped.

  Her face was flushed and had a predatory excitement about it. ‘It is if it involves Parker.’ She stepped nearer. ‘He wants to sleep with you doesn’t he? He couldn’t keep his eyes off you at dinner. I was watching. Doesn’t Don like the idea?’

  ‘You know very well what Don wants,’ I retorted.

  Betinne came and stood very close to me. ‘And little miss pure pants doesn’t like the idea?’ she breathed scornfully.

  ‘Would you?’ I blazed at her and then suddenly I saw. The wide grey eyes, the large deep pupils gazing at me, the naked hunger in them. ‘You would, wouldn’t you?’ I answered my own question quietly. ‘You would sleep with him.’

  ‘Sleep with him,’ she echoed sarcastically. ‘Of course I’d sleep with him; I’d do anything he wanted. Have you any idea how much money that man has? How much power?’

  We stared at each other for a moment. I felt sick.

  ‘Poor David,’ I said at last.

  ‘Leave David out of this!’ she hissed viciously.

  ‘Well you obviously have,’ I retorted. ‘Look Betinne. If you want Parker Forbes then you have him. Don will no doubt be delighted as long as some woman in this family nets him. But count me out. Please!’

  I pushed past her, my cheeks flaming with heat, and let myself into the hall just as Robin Hamilton came back from the garden. I saw him look at me swiftly then glance over my shoulder into the dining room. Then he grinned. ‘Hi. I hope you didn’t mind me interrupting you out there.’

  ‘You saved my life,’ I said with rather more vehemence than I meant. ‘That is –’

  ‘I understand,’ he said, laughing quietly. ‘You needn’t explain.’ He hesitated. ‘Your sister-in-law looked pretty heated in there.’

  ‘She was.’ I had no intention of telling Robin Hamilton, or anyone else for that matter, what I had quarrelled with Betinne about, but his presence soothed me as we went into the drawing room where the Whittackers were seated with my father and David. The four of them were laughing. My father looked up and I saw his glance harden as it swept over us. Then he stared out towards the terrace. Following his look I saw Sylvia out there with Parker. As I watched Betinne joined them.

  The next day dawned hot and beautiful. After breakfast most of the house party collected towels and broad-brimmed hats and beach bags and headed for the rustic flight of steps which led down the cliff to our private beach. To my intense irritation Parker sat down beside me. He grinned.

  ‘Pity we were interrupted last night, Anna. I was going to suggest a midnight bathe perhaps; an assignation under the stars? I tried your door later. Why do you lock it?’ He was speaking in a low confidential voice but I could see Robin watching me, a quizzical expression on his face.

  ‘Because I need my beauty sleep,’ I managed to retort with a smile. I could feel my skin crawling as he leaned towards me and put his hand on my ankle, stroking it gently. His palm was damp.

  I moved away a little and it was then that my father’s shadow fell across us. ‘I hope my daughter is entertaining you, Parker,’ he said softly. ‘We aim to keep our guests happy, don’t we Anna?’

  I looked up and at that moment I felt real loathing for my father but I was still so conditioned by my upbringing, by what we are taught are good manners, that I merely smiled stiffly. ‘Of course,’ I said. I wriggled out of Parker’s reach and jumped to my feet. ‘We aim to please always, don’t we Don?’ I ran towards the water. ‘Come on Parker. Let’s swim!’

  The water was ice cold. Parker did not move. It was Robin who followed me, pacing me easily as I made for the raft which was anchored about fifty yards off the beach. He grabbed it as I pulled myself up onto it, and looked up at me.

  ‘He can’t get you here, eh?’ He shook the water out of his eyes, laughing. We both glanced towards the beach where Betinne, oiled and sleek, had taken my place on the rug beside Parker.

  ‘My father –’ I stopped abruptly, biting off the words. I had been about to confide in him; about to tell him what my father was doing, but something stopped me. Robin was a journalist after all. And who could resist the kind of headline my story could generate?

  Robin grinned. ‘Stand up for yourself, kiddo,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re a free agent, remember?’

  He gave me a long searching look, then he dived and was swimming back towards the beach. Robin Hamilton, I thought, knows exactly what is going on. And I had a feeling he was on my side. I watched him reach the shore and wade out of the water to grab a towel. He was extremely handsome as well as being nice and I found myself wishing suddenly that he was the one my father wanted me to seduce! The thought made me smile to myself. If Ben knew what had crossed my mind he would not have believed it. Physically Ben and I had not been a success; perhaps that was because any man to whom my father introduced me was suspect.

  Beyond Robin, I saw Betinne roll over onto her stomach and reach behind her to unhook her bikini top, cushioning her heavy breasts in the sand. It would only be a matter of minutes before Parker would be asked to oil her back. I almost envied her her casual sensuality. But Ben was right after all. I did not seem to know how to let myself go. Or
was it that I had not yet met the right man? Almost unconsciously I found my eyes searching once more for Robin, then with a sigh I shifted round so that I could lie and watch the sea. The yacht was still there, her dinghy lying astern. I could see two brightly coloured towels fluttering from the rigging. If I was really a free agent, I thought ruefully, I would have been out there in my own little sailing dinghy thumbing a lift out of Don’s world forever. But I didn’t have the courage, then.

  The heat was building. We ate a cold luncheon in the shade of the cedars on the lawn and then the guests drifted off towards their rooms for a siesta. I followed suit.

  My bedroom was shaded by the soft pink curtains and I slipped out of my sundress to lie naked on the cool sheets thankful to be out of that blazing sun. Two seconds later I got up. I had forgotten to lock the door. I ran across the carpet and reached to turn the key, but it had gone. Puzzled I searched for it on the carpet, thinking it had fallen out, then I opened the door and groped for it on the outside. It wasn’t there either.

  As I stood there, not wanting to believe the suspicion which had flashed through my mind, I heard another door open in the corridor.

  I grabbed my bathrobe off the chair and was knotting it around me as my door began to move.

  Parker was wearing a navy and maroon striped silk dressing gown and a great deal of cologne, and, I was fairly sure, not much else. He came in and closed the door behind him, then triumphantly he felt in his pocket and produced the key. Locking the door he turned to me and grinned.

  ‘Don said he hoped we’d get to know each other better this afternoon,’ he said softly. ‘What do you say we give it a try?’

  There was no fear or revulsion in me this time. As he walked towards me and put his hands on my shoulders as he had done before I felt nothing but white hot anger. His strength was enormous as he pushed me back against the wall but he wasn’t expecting me to give more than a token resistance. As his mouth closed over mine I brought my knee up into his groin with all the force I could muster, my fingers clawing for his eyes. Then I dived for the door, fumbling desperately with the key.