The Runaway Heart

by Barbara Cartland

  “His number’s on the pad by the telephone,” Mrs. Carter shouted.

  “I have found it, thank you,” Karina replied.

  She stood looking at the number. She had promised to go out with Jim tonight. She had forgotten all about it because she had been so intent on her thoughts of another Mr. Holt.

  Quite suddenly she decided that she would not go. She wanted to be alone, she wanted to think, she wanted to go on remembering every moment when she had been alone with Garland and every word he had said to her.

  She stood still, staring at the number and then she knew that if she rang Jim up he would persuade her to meet him.

  She walked into the kitchen.

  “Mrs. Carter,” she said. “I wonder if you would be very kind and do something for me? I have a headache and I want to lie down on my bed. Would you ring Mr. Holt and say I cannot come out with him tonight?”

  “He’ll be upset if you don’t,” Mrs. Carter said. “Ringin’ up in a terrible flap he was because he’d missed you at the office. ‘Tell her to ring me the moment she gets in,’ he says.”

  “I cannot help it,” Karina replied. “I don’t want to go out with him.”

  “There’s no reason why you should if you don’t want to,” Mrs. Carter remarked. “Not that he didn’t sound a nice young man to me. Polite and pleasant, different from the way some of them talk on the telephone these days.”

  “Put him off for me, Mrs. Carter, there’s a dear,” Karina begged.

  She went towards the door, but Mrs. Carter’s voice stopped her.

  “Is there anythin’ the matter, Miss Burke? You look upset.”

  “No, not really,” Karina answered.

  “Is there any way I can help you, miss?” Mrs. Carter enquired.

  Karina shook her head.

  “No, it’s very kind of you, but nobody can help.”

  “If it’s as bad as that, it sounds as if you’re in love,” Mrs. Carter said jokingly.

  Karina did not reply, but, as she went up the stairs, her footsteps seemed to echo the words,

  “You’re in love! In love! In love!”

  CHAPTER TEN

  To Karina’s surprise, when she went to bed, she slept.

  She thought that she would stay awake hugging to herself the new-found knowledge of her love or questioning Cousin Felix’s strange and unaccountable behaviour,

  But instead she fell into a troubled sleep in which her dreams chased one another in wild chaotic confusion and she awoke with a start to hear her own voice, sharp with terror, crying,

  “Don’t hurt him! Don’t hurt him!”

  She opened her eyes and found the pale morning sun seeping through the sides of the curtain and she realised that in her dream she had been afraid for Garland, afraid that Felix might injure him.

  ‘I am being ridiculous,’ she told herself severely. ‘How could Felix hurt anyone so rich and so powerful as Garland Holt?’

  She tried to laugh away her fears, remembering Felix’s somewhat dilettante manner, his elegant little bachelor flat and comparing it with the vast possessions, great fortune and the powerful City interests of Garland. Unfortunately the comparison did not disparage Felix, but only herself.

  Who was she, she wondered, an insignificant unsophisticated girl from the country, to raise her eyes towards anyone as important as Garland Holt?

  She drew back the curtains and in her nightgown walked across the room towards the dressing table. As she did so, she felt the linoleum chill against her feet and saw, as if it was in a picture, the general shabbiness of Mrs. Carter’s back bedroom.

  She had a sudden vision of the comfort and luxury of Garland’s home. Then, even as it struck her almost like a blow, she saw her own reflection in the mirror and laughed aloud.

  She looked like a child – a child with fair hair in a white dress, a child who knew nothing of the world but just lived in a fantasy world of its own.

  “I have to forget him,” Karina said aloud.

  But, even as she spoke the words, her heart throbbed with the intensity of her love for him.

  She loved his clear-cut features, she thought, the way his eyebrows almost met across his nose when he frowned, the little twinkle in the depths of his eyes when he was being deliberately provocative and the way in which his smile would suddenly flash out when one least expected it.

  Did Lady Carol feel like this? Karina asked herself and knew the bitterness and hurt that jealousy can bring.

  She dressed slowly and went downstairs to find Mrs. Carter full of Jim and how upset he had been by her message the night before.

  “He sounded real concerned about you,” she said. “It’s a pity you had to give him the go-by. A nice young man he seemed to me.”

  “Perhaps he will ask me again,” Karina said without any real enthusiasm.

  “He will indeed! He told me to tell you that he would expect you to lunch with him today to make up for last night. And he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

  “Oh, dear!” Karina exclaimed, but she smiled at the same time.

  Somehow it was comforting to think that someone wanted her and she thought now how absurd she had been not to go out with Jim last night. What had been the point of brooding over Cousin Felix’s perfidy or yearning for someone far away in India who would doubtless never give her a thought?

  Jim was there on the spot. He was warm and human and kind, whatever Garland might say about him, and she had a sudden longing for someone to be kind to her.

  She finished her breakfast and Mrs. Carter commented,

  “You don’t eat enough to keep a flea alive. It’s daylight robbery to take the money you pay me, it is indeed!”

  “I am not hungry,” Karina said.

  “Well, you’ll get a good lunch at any rate,” Mrs. Carter retorted. “And don’t be too unkind to that young man. It seems to me he’s the genuine sort.”

  Karina waved goodbye but said nothing. Jim would be complimented at being thought genuine, she mused, although she was quite certain that Garland would not agree with the description.

  It was a cold morning, but the sun was shining and she walked quite a long way before she took a bus. Even so she was early at the office and had time to sit down and think before the others arrived.

  She decided that she would write to Cousin Felix and ask him why he had deliberately lied to her about Uncle Simon and Aunt Margaret. But it was too difficult to face him with it and besides she was not really brave enough.

  Then with a sudden start she realised that she was free – free of Cousin Felix and his threats and free really of her gratitude.

  He had used her cleverly, she could see that. But why he should have done so she could not understand. Could it really matter to him whom Garland lunched with? Had it really been to extract information of that sort that he had manoeuvred to get her into the office?

  She pulled a piece of writing paper in front of her, picked up her pen and put it down again. She would draft out a letter in pencil first, she thought, and then copy it out.

  She began,

  “Dear Cousin Felix – ” and then stopped.

  What could she say to him? How hard to put her suspicions into words and harder still to accuse him of deliberately misleading and misinforming her.

  The telephone rang and the girl on the private exchange asked,

  “Is Miss Weston there?”

  “No,” Karina answered. “She has not come in yet.”

  “It’s unlike her to be late,” the girl said. “There’s a cable here for her from Mr. Holt.”

  “Shall I take it down?” Karina asked. “Then it will be ready for when she arrives.”

  “Very well,” the girl replied and Karina took it down at her dictation.

  When she had finished, the girl said,

  “Have you got that?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Karina answered.

  “It’s only just arrived,” the girl said. “So put the time on it. Miss Wes
ton gets awfully batty if we don’t send cables and telegrams through the moment they arrive.”

  “All right,” Karina said. “I will make it nine-twenty.”

  She glanced at the clock as she spoke and wondered again what had happened to Miss Weston. The cable was from Garland and, dull and authoritative though it was, it seemed to bring a little warm glow of happiness to her even to read it.

  “Send notebook in safe. Stop. Holt. Stop.”

  Nothing could be more prosaic, more matter-of-fact, Karina thought. And yet somehow it was a message from him from the other side of the world.

  She wondered what he had been doing when he wrote it.

  She wondered if he thought of them all sitting in the office receiving his instructions and hurrying to carry them out.

  Then, trying to laugh at herself, she thought more than likely he had barked the order at some wretched secretary who had hurried away, even as she and Miss Weston would, to do his bidding like slaves attending to the commands of a Maharajah.

  The telephone rang again and she put out her hand towards it.

  “Is that Miss Burke?” a voice enquired.

  “Yes, who is it?” Karina asked.

  “It’s Clare Weston, speaking.”

  “Oh, Miss Weston, I was just wondering where you were.”

  “I am ill and I am afraid I cannot come to the office today.”

  “Oh, I am sorry!” Karina exclaimed.

  “It must have been something I ate,” Miss Weston explained. “I have never been taken like this before. I have been sick all night and simply dare not leave the house, not even for a moment.”

  “But you must not think of doing anything of the sort,” Karina said. “Just lie down. Have you sent for the doctor?”

  “No, I think the worst of it is over by now,” Miss Weston said. “I hate making a fuss about myself. It’s so unlike me to be ill and it could not be at a worse moment with Mr. Holt away.”

  “Well, there doesn’t seem to be any messages,” Karina said. “Only a cable from Mr. Holt.”

  “A cable from Mr. Holt!”

  She heard Miss Weston’s voice sharpen as she repeated the words.

  “What does it say?”

  “Send notebook in safe,” Karina read.

  There was a moment’s pause.

  “Notebook in safe?” Miss Western queried. “I wonder what he means by that? There are several notebooks there. Are you quite sure that is all it says?”

  “Quite sure,” Karina answered. “But I will ask the girl who took it down if you like.”

  “No, don’t worry,” Miss Weston answered. “Mr. Holt will expect me to know. I shall have to come round somehow, although I don’t know how I can manage it.”

  As if the mere idea was too much for her, she gave a sudden gulp and said in an indistinct voice,

  “Hold on – for a – moment.”

  Karina could hear the telephone receiver being put down with a bang. She guessed that Miss Weston had gone away to be sick and, picking up the other telephone, she spoke to the operator who had taken the cable.

  “No,” the girl said. “There was nothing else. Just ‘Send notebook in safe’. I expect he thought that Miss Weston would know. She always knows everything.”

  “Are there any other messages or calls for her?” Karina asked.

  “Oh, a whole pile,” the operator said cheerfully. “But Mavis has those in the outer office. When Miss Weston’s finished talking to you, you had better let me switch her through, unless she is coming in.”

  “She is ill,” Karina said.

  “Good gracious!” the operator exclaimed. “The sky must be falling down! I’ve been here five years and Miss Weston’s never been ill all that time.”

  Karina picked up the other receiver and waited.

  In about two or three minutes she heard Miss Weston’s voice again, very faint and weak.

  “I’m – so – sorry,” she said. “I just – cannot do anything when – these bouts of sickness come over me.”

  “You must go back to bed,” Karina urged her.

  “Mr. Holt must – have his – notebook,” Miss Weston stuttered. “No, listen, Miss Burke. I have to – trust you. It’s something I never – imagined doing in my wildest dreams, but – I have to do it. I will tell you – the combination of the safe.”

  “Oh, isn’t there anyone else?”

  “Nobody,” Miss Weston said. “As I think you know, Mr. Holt’s junior partners are both away. One is in Buenos Aires and the other in South Africa. That is why it’s – so maddening for me to be ill at this time.”

  “Don’t worry,” Karina said soothingly, hearing the agitation in Miss Weston’s voice. “Can the notebook wait until tomorrow? You will be all right by then.”

  “If Mr. Holt wants something – it has to be done at once,” Miss Weston replied. “Now, it’s not difficult. All you have to do is to follow exactly the instructions – I will give you. And then, when you have the safe open, you can tell me what notebooks are there and I will tell you which one to send to him.”

  “Very well,” Karina agreed.

  She picked up a pencil and drew a block towards her.

  Miss Weston gave her the instructions. It was quite complicated, so many different numbers and so many turns of the lock.

  “Now go and – see if you can do it,” Miss Weston said, “while I hold on.”

  Karina heard the faintness in her voice and realised that she was near the end of her tether.

  “Are you in bed?” she asked.

  “No, the telephone – is in the hall of my lodgings,” Miss Weston answered.

  “Then go back to bed at once,” Karina said. “If I cannot manage it, I will ring you up, I promise you, and there cannot be so many notebooks there and what there are I will send him. It’s no use killing yourself. You will be no use to him dead.”

  “I really – don’t think I can – stand here much longer,” Miss Weston murmured.

  “Then go back to bed at once,” Karina commanded.

  “He will be – in Delhi,” Miss Weston said weakly. “They have – the address in the outer office – ”

  The words trailed away in a sudden gulp and Karina knew that Miss Weston was going to be sick again. She put down the receiver and, taking the piece of paper with the instructions on it, went into the inner office.

  She looked at the safe rather apprehensively. It looked very strong and formidable and ready, she felt, to resist any onslaught she might make upon it. But Miss Weston’s instructions were quite clear.

  She dialled the number, turned the handle of the lock the requisite number of times, there was a click and the door was open.

  It was not a big safe and the papers were all extremely neatly arranged. On the top was a wad of typed papers clipped together and headed ‘Holdings’.

  Karina took it out and found underneath that there were various legal-looking documents and at the bottom, underneath them, two small notebooks, one covered in green leather, the other in red.

  She looked through the papers, but there were no other notebooks and, putting them on the desk, she replaced the other papers carefully.

  She had just lifted the ones marked ‘Holdings’ from the table when the office door opened and someone came in.

  She turned her head and saw to her astonishment that it was Felix who had entered.

  “Good morning, Karina!”

  “Cousin Felix!’” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

  “I want to see you,” he answered. “And they told me to come straight in.”

  Summoning all her courage and dignity, Karina said,

  “Would you mind waiting for me outside? I am rather busy at the moment.”

  Felix laughed.

  “You sound very hoity-toity this morning. What’s the matter, little cousin? Have I offended you?”

  “Please wait a moment,” Karina repeated.

  She pushed the papers she had in her hand quickly
into the safe, pushed the heavy door to and was just going to turn the knob and lock it again when suddenly Felix seemed to fall against her, his whole weight sagging onto her shoulder so that she staggered to keep her feet.

  “What – what are you doing?” she exclaimed, only to realise that his eyes were closed and one of his hands was clutching at his collar.

  Almost instinctively her arms went out to support him.

  She guided him to a chair, where he seemed to collapse.

  “Water,” he murmured. “Water.”

  She looked wildly round the room, but, as Garland was away, there was no water on his desk. Karina wrenched open the door and ran through Miss Weston’s office out to where the girls and clerks were busy working.

  “Please, some water quickly,” she cried. “Mr. Mainwaring has been taken ill.”

  It took a few seconds more for someone to find a glass, fill it and bring it back.

  ‘What is the matter with everyone this morning?’ Karina thought agitatedly as she waited. ‘First Miss Weston and now Cousin Felix.’

  At length the glass, cold and rather wet on the outside, was thrust into her outstretched hand and she ran back into the inner office. Felix was still sitting on the chair where she had left him, but he seemed to have recovered.

  He took the glass of water she held out to him, sipped it fastidiously, made a face and said,

  “I am sorry, my dear, if I gave you a fright. I have these attacks at times. It’s my heart, you know.”

  “Are you all right now?” Karina asked.

  “Yes, they pass off. Actually I have some pills with me that I can swallow. You were so long with the water that I managed to get one down without assistance.”

  “I am so sorry,” Karina replied. “It’s always the same. When you want water, it’s never there.”

  “I think perhaps I had better go home,” Felix said. “I usually have to rest when I have a turn like this.”

  “But of course,” Karina agreed. “Let me help you to find a taxi.”

  “That would be very kind of you,” Felix answered.

  He rose slowly to his feet, moving with difficulty but dramatically, Karina thought, almost as if he was acting a part.

  And then she put the thought from her as being ungenerous.