Helping hands got her to her feet, where she discovered she had lost her shoes and somehow or other cut her arm. Her scarf had vanished and her hair fell around her face.
‘You look a right mess, don’t you?’ It was the dark-haired young man again. ‘Want to give it another try?’
A girl grabbed him by the arm. ‘Oh, come on, Paul,’ she said. ‘Let’s go. We don’t want to get lumbered down to Bow Street again.’ She was small, with long, pale-yellow hair, and she was very young.
Paul ignored her. ‘Look,’ he said to Linda, ‘you had better come with us. I’ve got a mate lives near here and we can maybe get you some shoes.’
‘Well…’ started Linda.
‘Let’s not hang about, Paul,’ said the girl crossly.
‘All right,’ decided Linda, and the three of them started to push their way to the edge of the crowd.
Paul took hold of her arm and guided her through the mass of people. His lank-haired girlfriend trailed miserably behind.
‘My name’s Paul Bedford. What’s yours?’
Linda glanced at him. He was tall, with slate-grey eyes. She guessed he must be about twenty-two. She found him uncomfortably attractive.
‘Mrs. Cooper,’ she said firmly.
He gave her an odd look, half-amused, half-puzzled. ‘Mrs. Cooper, huh?’
The pavement was cold and hard on her stockinged feet, and she found herself wishing she was safely home and not rushing around Trafalgar Square with some strange young man whom she had only met ten minutes before.
‘I have a car parked close by,’ she said. ‘I think it would be better if I got back to it. I’m sure I have some old shoes in the trunk.’
But Paul was already leading her across the road into Newport Street. ‘We’re here,’ he said, banging on a battered yellow door. ‘At least come up. We’ll bandage your arm, and then I’ll take you back to your car.’
The girlfriend looked sulky.
‘All right,’ said Linda.
A makeupless, white-faced, black-haired girl finally came to the door. She wore a tattered blue-and-gold brocade Chinese housecoat and once-white fur slippers. ‘Hi, baby,’ she greeted Paul brightly. ‘And how’s little Mel?’ She nodded at the girlfriend. ‘Come on up.’
They followed her up a narrow staircase into an enormous room painted completely black. There was a large bed in one corner, a lot of books and cushions scattered around, and a record player with Miles Davis turned up full volume. This appeared to be the full extent of furnishings.
‘Where’s your old man?’ asked Paul.
‘He went down to join the crowd,’ said the girl.
‘We need a drink,’ said Paul. ‘Got hung up in the middle of it. This is Mrs. Cooper. She cut her arm and lost her shoes. Had a right punch-up.’
The girl smiled. ‘You always manage to involve people. Sit down and I’ll get you a beer. It’s all we’ve got.’
‘Come on,’ said Paul to Linda, ‘we’ll fix your arm up.’ He took her into the bathroom, which was surprisingly white and antiseptic-looking. ‘So where’s Mr. Cooper then?’ he asked.
She looked at him coolly. ‘He’s away on business.’
‘What’s your name when it’s not Mrs. Cooper?’
She hesitated, then said, ‘Linda. Why?’
‘I just wanted to know.’
They looked at each other for a long moment before she glanced nervously at the floor. This is ridiculous, she thought. What am I doing here with this boy? What would David think? I must get out.
They discovered a box of Band-aids and Paul put one over the cut on her arm. ‘Was this your first meeting?’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Look, I simply must get back to my car now. It’s really awfully nice of you to have taken all this trouble, but I have people expecting me at home, and they will be worried if I’m late.’
‘Fine,’ he said, ‘I’ll take you. Can’t have you wandering about London with no shoes on.’
They went back into the large black room. Lank-haired Melanie was sitting clutching a can of beer. She jumped up when Paul came in and rushed over to him. Linda decided she wasn’t very pretty, much too thin, and that awful hair!
‘Have some beer,’ Melanie offered. She had a whiny voice.
‘No, we’re splitting,’ said Paul. ‘I’ll be back soon. You wait here.’
The girl obviously wanted to argue but didn’t quite dare.
Paul kissed the owner of the room. ‘I’ll be back,’ he said.
Linda said good-bye, and they left.
In the street he took her arm again, but she shook it free saying, ‘I don’t like my arm held.’
‘What do you like?’
She didn’t reply.
They walked in silence to where her car was parked. She felt embarrassed and inelegant in her stockinged feet. Besides, the pavement was cold and hard and she wished she was safely home.
When they reached her car he helped her in. ‘Where do you live?’ he inquired politely.
‘Finchley. We have a house there.’
‘Hey, we’re neighbours. I live in Hampstead.’ He stood on the pavement leaning against the car door. ‘You can drop me there. Do you mind?’
‘I thought you had to go back for your girlfriend,’ she said nervously. She just wanted to drive off and leave him standing there. She knew how attracted she was to him, and somehow she felt very vulnerable.
‘That’s all right. Mel will find her own way home. She usually does anyway.’ He walked around to the passenger seat and got in.
It’s now or never, she thought. Either I tell him to get out or I’m accepting the fact that he’s interested and letting him know that I’m interested too. She felt him staring. She started the car.
Linda drove expertly through the traffic. Paul sat silently beside her, his silence making her even more aware of his presence. Eventually she spoke. ‘Your girlfriend isn’t going to be too pleased with you, saying you would be back and then just disappearing.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
They lapsed into silence again. She decided that when they reached Hampstead she would stop the car, wait for him to get out, and then wave good-bye and drive quickly away. She would give him no chance to talk about seeing her again. Instinctively she knew he would want to.
‘I noticed you immediately,’ he said.
‘What?’ she replied, startled.
‘I said I noticed you immediately,’ he repeated, ‘in the crowd. You looked out of it, sort of lost. You wanted to be part of it and yet couldn’t quite make it. So I grabbed your arm and pulled you into the road and then you were all right, you forgot yourself, y’know?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said defensively.
‘Oh, come off it, you know exactly what I mean.’ He yawned rudely. ‘Where’s your old man then? Where’s your kids? You have got kids, haven’t you?’
‘Yes. How do you know?’ she said defensively.
‘Easy. I can sum you up in a minute. Married maybe ten years, nice little house, husband away a lot, kids growing up and leaving you behind. It’s true, isn’t it?’
Her first reaction was one of anger, stop the car and tell this rude little boy to get out. But wait a moment, what he was saying was very near the truth. Wait, hear him out, what harm could it do? She was curious too. How did he know? Did she look the part so completely?
She forced a smile. ‘You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, I am. I can see it in your face. The way you look. Everything about you.’
‘We’ve reached Hampstead,’ she said quickly, and swerved the little car abruptly into the kerb. ‘Thanks for the summing up. It was great fun for you, I’m sure. David would have been amused. Good-bye.’ She stared straight ahead and waited for him to get out.
He didn’t move, just said quietly, ‘Can I see you again?’
She turned to look at him. His eyes penetrated deep into her own.
‘I don’t u
nderstand you. First you dissect my life, pull me to pieces, and then you ask to see me again. No, you can’t. I’m in love with my husband. I have two wonderful children and I live a very nice life, thank you. I think you are pushy and rude. Please get out of my car and go away.’
‘I would like to see you again. I think you need someone like me.’ He opened the door and got out. ‘Anyway, if you change your mind, I’m in the phone book.’ He turned and walked away.
She watched him go. He’s a creep, she thought angrily. He’s very thin, probably never eats. So young, but so knowing. I would like to sleep with him.
She halted her train of thought abruptly. I would like to what? she asked herself incredulously. Sex had always been synonymous with David. She had never had an affair, she had gone to her marriage bed a virgin, and now this thought was in her head. Oh, there had been many boys she had dated, necked with, before getting married, but never anything more serious than that. David is a wonderful husband, she thought, a wonderful lover. But when did he ever make love to her these days? Maybe once a fortnight, and then it was a quick ten-minute affair out of which she derived no particular pleasure, and afterward he would turn over, go straight to sleep and snore, and she would lie awake for a long time thinking how it used to be before the children, when they were first married.
She sighed and started the car. It was impossible to turn the clock back.
* * *
The house was empty; even the dogs were away with the children, and their live-in Spanish maid, Ana, was out for the day. It was depressing. Linda switched the television on in the bedroom and noticed that it was nearly six. David had said he would be home around nine, so there were three hours to kill. She had no intention of watching television, but it was nice to have human voices around her. She decided to phone her mother and see how Jane and Stephen were behaving themselves.
Her mother’s voice was placid and comfortable. ‘Hello, Linda, dear.’
‘Hello, Mother. How’s everything?’
‘Oh, fine, dear, fine. Jane’s having her bath now and Stephen’s right here. Wait a minute, hang on, he wants to speak to you.’
There was a pause, and then Stephen’s thin excitable voice came on the line. He was eight. ‘Hello, Mummy. We’re having a smashing time. Grandma made lots of gooey cakes for tea, and that pig Jane tried to eat them all, so I pushed her off the chair and she started to cry and…’ He carried on at great length about the cakes, and then her mother’s voice came back on the line.
‘Daddy will be driving the children back after lunch tomorrow, so you should expect them around four. How is David? Did you have a nice peaceful weekend together?’
‘Yes, Mother, very peaceful,’ replied Linda ruefully. ‘All right, then. I’ll speak to you later in the week. Thanks for having the children. Kiss Janey for me. Bye.’
What now? Feeling slightly hungry, she went to the kitchen, but she hated cooking just for herself, so she finally settled for a cheese sandwich. There seemed nothing else left to do except to go to bed and wait for David.
Bed, David, the two thoughts connected in her head, and an idea formed. She rushed to her closet and hunted around until she found what she was looking for. A slinky black negligee she had bought in Paris several years ago and never really got around to wearing. It had always seemed too frivolous. She held it up against her and then returned to the kitchen to iron it. Well, this is what they say in all the women’s magazines, she thought, smiling. Shock your husband into realizing how utterly sexy and devastating you really are!
After the negligee was ironed, she ran a long, hot bath and borrowed some of Janey’s Baby Bubbles to throw in. For good measure she added some Chanel No. 5 cologne, until it all looked very luxurious and inviting. Next she creamed her face, set her hair, and then climbed into the bath and relaxed.
The phone rang. Wrapped in a bath towel, trailing bubbles, she hurried into the bedroom to answer it.
‘Hello.’
‘Hello, Linda?’
‘Yes.’
‘This is Paul Bedford.’ A long silence, and then his voice again. ‘You mentioned David and Finchley, so it was easy to trace you in the phone book. Look, I’m sorry, I wanted to apologize for earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you. Will you forgive me?’
‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ she said coolly. ‘It certainly didn’t bother me one way or the other.’ She was tempted to say good-bye and hang up, but she waited to see what he would say next.
‘That’s all right then.’ He sounded relieved. ‘You know, when I like people, I mean really like them, I always seem to come on too strong. I don’t intend to, but it just happens. Sort of reverse action.’ He paused, then continued. ‘A friend of mine is having a party tonight; he lives near you, and I thought you might like to come.’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t,’ she answered quickly.
‘No harm in trying. Maybe some other time.’
‘You’ll have to excuse me, I’m in the middle of taking a bath.’ Then she added, ‘Thanks for the thought, anyway. Good-bye, Paul.’
‘Good-bye, Linda. Sorry about dragging you out of the bath. The party doesn’t start until ten, so if you should decide you want to go, my number is Hampstead 09911. Bye.’ He hung up.
0-double-nine-double-one. So easy to remember. She shivered and made her way quickly back to the bathroom. The bubbles in the bath had gone flat, and the water, when she got back in, was lukewarm. She was secretly pleased that Paul had phoned; it made her feel desirable and wanted, a feeling she couldn’t remember having had for a long time. Tonight things would be different. She would make David realize that everything could and should be as romantic as it was when they first knew each other. After all, just because two people were married didn’t mean that romance had to go by the board. I’m only thirty-three, she thought; that’s still very young. Well, certainly not old. She climbed out of the bath and studied her body in the bathroom mirror. I could do with going on a diet, she mused. Her legs were shapely but a little heavy around the thighs, her waist was quite slim, and her breasts, although large and full, were still firm.
She slipped into the negligee. It clung flatteringly, and she was pleased with the effect. She applied a light makeup and combed out her hair. Then she turned off the television and put on the stereo. Sinatra was much more acceptable than some stupid sit-com.
The stage was set, the player was ready, it was nearly nine. A glass of wine would be nice, she thought. There was a bottle of rosé in the fridge, so she went and got it.
* * *
An hour passed. The wine was drunk, Sinatra was silent. The black negligee had been replaced with something a little warmer. The television was back on and Linda huddled morosely in front of it, watching an old movie.
She was a little loaded. The emptiness of the house seemed to press around her. Where was David? He had said nine o’clock. If he was going to be late, he could at least phone. Perhaps he had had a car accident. Perhaps he was lying badly injured or even…
The phone rang. First, the operator’s cool efficient voice, and then David, obviously in a hurry. ‘Look, I’m held up with these people here. I had to drive over from Leeds to Manchester, and I’m bushed. Not going to risk driving back tonight; it’s a filthy night. I’ll leave early in the morning and be home at eight.’
‘But David, I’m expecting you.’ She tried to keep her voice pleasant. ‘Why couldn’t you have let me know earlier? It’s nearly ten, and you promised you’d be home by nine.’
‘I can’t talk now. I’ll explain tomorrow.’
Her temper suddenly snapped. ‘I don’t care about tomorrow. What about me? I’ve had a bloody miserable weekend, and tonight I’ve just sat around waiting for you, and you couldn’t even bother to phone. At least if I’d known I could have gone to the films or something. You’re just selfish, and I can’t—’
His voice was cold and unemotional. ‘I’m with people now. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good-bye.’
&nbs
p; The line went dead. For a moment she sat very still trying to control a choking feeling of complete frustration. He had hung up on her, he hadn’t even bothered to wait for her to say good-bye.
At last she replaced the receiver, only to pick it up again and dial. The ringing tone seemed very loud in her ear. I’ve had too much to drink, she thought vaguely. Then a voice was saying hello and she found herself replying with, ‘Hello, Paul, this is Linda Cooper. About that party…’
Chapter Three
It was four o’clock when David and Claudia arrived back at her apartment. She lived in a converted house at the back of Knightsbridge, all very new and modern. She occupied the top apartment which had the advantage of a small roof garden.
David had often found himself wondering how she could afford it. All her furniture was new and obviously expensive, and she had an enormous wardrobe of clothes. She was an actress and model, and from what he knew of both professions, unless you were extremely successful you didn’t earn a lot of money. Certainly not enough to keep Claudia in the style she obviously liked. He had mulled this problem over and come to no satisfactory conclusion. Eventually he had decided that she must have a rich father, although this didn’t really tie in with the bits and pieces he knew of her background.
According to Claudia she had left home at fifteen, and arrived in London five years ago all set to be a movie star. Now she was twenty, very beautiful and sparkled like champagne. But no movie star.
He had known her only three weeks and in that time seen her as much as twelve times. She was always available, there didn’t appear to be any other man in the picture. She accepted the fact that he was married, and didn’t nag about it as a lot of women might. She never mentioned money to him. He had seen that she did the Beauty Maid commercial, but apart from that she hadn’t worked at all.
He decided that he had to find out more about her. Maybe she needed money and was embarrassed to mention it. He resolved to bring the subject up.
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