by Andrea Blake
As they left the Porte Dauphine station Noelle heard someone call her name.
She turned. “Alain! What are you doing here?” she exclaimed in surprise.
“I’ve been following you from the house. Are you going to see the zoo?” he asked Robert. “May I come with you?”
Robert looked enquiringly at Noelle and she was obliged to agree. But later, when they reached the pleasure gardens and the little boy was absorbed in watching the animals, she said, “Alain, I really ought not to see you when I’m on duty. You’ve already put me in rather a spot today. The roses are heavenly and it was sweet of you to send them—but they caused an awful lot of eyebrow-raising at the house.”
She explained what had happened—or what she was supposed to think had happened.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you any embarrassment,” he said apologetically.
“Well, they were rather spectacular,” she said with a smile. “I think they suspect me of picking up a maharajah.”
“Have they any right to intrude into your personal life.”
“No, not as long as I behave in a reasonable way.”
“Then, you have no need to worry,” he said easily.
“I’m afraid it isn’t as simple as that.” Noelle told him about the housekeeper’s expressed intention to get rid of her, and of what had happened to Nurse Karlstad. “Don’t you see? I must be careful,” she ended worriedly.
Robert was watching the antics in the monkey-house and Alain took her hand and pressed it encouragingly. “Very well, I won’t send you any more bouquets,” he promised. “But I had to see you today. Couldn’t you possibly come out for an hour this evening?”
“No, I can’t. Ginette is going to Passy to see her family and I have to stay with the children.”
At this point Robert came back to them, bubbling with questions and they had to attend to him.
After a trip on the miniature railway, and on the magic river where the little boats glided along by some invisible means of propulsion, Alain suggested refreshments in the pavilion.
“Why did you run away last night?” he asked suddenly, when Robert was playing a few yards away from them.
“I—I didn’t run away,” Noelle objected.
“No?” His eyes were teasing. “That’s what it seemed like to me. Were you afraid that there might not be a second interruption?”
“Why are you always suggesting that I’m afraid of things?” she countered, keeping an eye on the child. “You said something like that last night.”
“Perhaps afraid is not the right word,” he conceded. “But I don’t think you are ready to take life as it comes.”
“It depends how it comes. I don’t think that my employer’s doorstep is the right place for—”
“For a first kiss?” Alain finished for her.
“It wasn’t my first kiss,” Noelle said candidly.
“I did not mean that in a literal sense. But a few clumsy embraces from boys of your own age—they are of little consequence,” he said negligently.
Noelle’s mouth curved. “For all you know I could have had very serious love affairs.”
He shook his head. “Impossible. You have never been in love at all.”
“How can you possibly know that? As a matter of fact I’ve been madly in love—several times.”
He gave her a quizzical look. “Yes, but only with film actors when you were still a schoolgirl, I think.”
She had to laugh. “All right, I admit it. I haven’t been in love. But it isn’t a question of being afraid of it—I just haven’t met the right man.”
“Perhaps you haven’t recognized him.”
“Oh, Alain, stop teasing me,” she said quickly. Then, after a glance at her watch, “We shall have to go home in a minute.”
“But I am not teasing,” he objected. “You see, you are even nervous of discussing the subject. You must have more courage, petite. To be twenty-four years old and never to have loved is to have missed much pleasure.”
“From what I’ve heard it can be horribly painful,” Noelle said evenly. She called Robert to her.
“I will see you on Friday?” Alain asked.
She hesitated. “I’m not sure. I may not be free this week.”
“I will wait for you at the corner at our usual time,” he said confidently.
Two days later Noelle came out of her bedroom to find Mark Fielding sitting in the day nursery.
“Good evening.” He rose to his feet, his expression civil but unsmiling. Noelle had been washing her hair. The collar of her blouse was tucked inside the neckline and a towel swathed her head. It was the second time he had found her in disarray, and she had another pang of vexation.
“Oh ... good evening.”
“I’ve brought something for Robert.” He indicated a carton on the table.
“He’s asleep, I’m afraid.”
“Yes, it’s well past his bedtime. I didn’t expect to see him. You can give it to him in the morning.”
With an attempt at nonchalance, she said, “May I look?”
“Certainly.” He opened the box and lifted out a toy merry-go-round. “I spotted it a week or two ago in the Marche aux Puces. I should think it’s about fifty or sixty years old. The mechanism was broken, but I found a clockmaker who was able to fix it up, and the whole thing has been cleaned and repainted, so there’s not much risk of it carrying any germs.”
“But it’s charming,” Noelle exclaimed delightedly. “Oh, Robert will love it.”
Mark gave the key several twists and moved a lever. There was a muffled whirring sound, and then the platform began to revolve to a tinkling tune. The six wooden horses, each painted a different color and each with a different rider, went jerkily up and down on their gilded barley-sugar poles until at last the music stopped and the platform jerked to a standstill.
“The dolls are interchangeable,” Mark explained. “There are two or three spares in the box. You see, they peg into the saddles like this.” He changed over two of the riders to demonstrate.
Noelle bent to study them more closely. She had forgotten her water-splashed shirt and turbaned head.
“Why, it must be an English toy. Isn’t the soldier an old-fashioned guardsman?” she asked interestedly.
“Yes, some kind of Hussar, I think. I’ve been trying to get hold of a book on uniforms to help check the date more accurately.”
She touched a scarlet bridle. “I wonder how it came to be in the Flea Market?”
“It’s a pretty long story, I expect. Most of the stuff there is junk, but sometimes one finds something interesting.”
“Well, this is a treasure. Wouldn’t you like to bring it back and watch Robert open it?”
“I can’t, unfortunately. I’m off to London tomorrow for several days.”
“Oh ... I see. What a pity.”
There was a silence while she knew he was watching her and became self-conscious again.
“I’m sorry if I broke things up the other night,” he said suddenly.
Noelle went scarlet. She had been prepared for some veiled allusion, but not for this direct attack.
“I suppose it confirmed your poor opinion of both of us,” she said coldly.
“It confirmed the view that women are extraordinarily illogical.” His mouth had a sardonic tilt.
“I don’t follow you.”
He shrugged. “You ran like a rabbit from the library the other evening, but you don’t seem nervous of de Bressac.”
In the pockets of her skirt Noelle’s hands clenched. “Did you take the same kindly interest in Nurse Karlstad’s personal life?” she enquired sweetly.
“As far as I know, Nurse Karlstad was never dazzled by a professional philanderer.”
Noelle’s chin came up and her eyes were bright with resentment. “I am not dazzled by Alain,” she said indignantly. “And, if you don’t mind, I’d like to dry my hair.”
“You’d be more convincing if you manag
ed to keep your temper,” he said dryly.
“I haven’t lost it—yet. I’m just irritated at being treated like ... like some foolish adolescent,” she said crisply.
“You don’t look very old at the moment,” he remarked, with provoking amusement. “And from what you’ve told me, I shouldn’t think you can have had much experience of the more dubious types among my sex.”
“While you, I suppose, know all about feminine frailties,” Noelle countered acidly.
“Oh, naturally,” he said negligently.
“Well, I’m afraid you don’t know much about feminine psychology, Mr. Fielding. We’re rather like children. If you keep telling us not to do something, it invariably spurs us on.”
“I know. But I think in this case you’re already unsure of yourself.”
“Unsure?” she queried, surprised.
“Frankly, I think the reason you’re seeing de Bressac is nine-tenths bravado. You didn’t look too ecstatic the other evening.”
Noelle went scarlet. “Oh, this is beyond belief!” she exclaimed heatedly. “I’m surprised you didn’t lecture Alain on the spot. You’re certainly capable of it.”
“Perhaps I misconstrued your expression. Perhaps you always look scared at these emotional moments,” he said derisively.
“It was not in the least emotional—and I wasn’t scared. I was startled by your coming out so suddenly.”
“Yes, that was most unfortunate,” he agreed smoothly. “Perhaps we’d better change the subject before you do lose your temper. Anyway”—with a glance at the clock—“I’ll have to be off now. I haven’t packed my gear yet.”
At the door, he turned.
“Anything I can get you in London?”
“No, thank you!” He moved to the door and, suddenly regretting her curtness,, she said awkwardly, “I—I hope you have a good trip.”
“Your solicitude overwhelms me,” His eyes were brilliant with mockery. “Goodnight, Miss Webster.”
In the next few days Noelle felt oddly unsettled. Every time she heard Robert winding up the clock-work merry-go-round she remembered Mark’s last visit to the nursery and wondered why he always succeeded in making her cross and confused. The little boy was so fascinated by his new toy that he wanted to play with it all day. The jingling tune began to get on Noelle’s nerves, and she had to bite her lips to stop herself snapping out her irritation when, for the umpteenth time, its strains resounded through the nurseries.
Meeting Alain on Friday, she found him quieter than usual. They had supper at an unpretentious bistro near the Madeleine and spent the rest of the evening sitting outside a cafe, watching the crowds go by.
Normally Alain was full of amusing and faintly malicious comments about the strollers, but tonight he seemed to have something on his mind and was silent for quite long periods, gazing thoughtfully into his glass of Amer Picon and smoking more than usual.
Noelle did not mind this. She had had a broken night with Victoire and felt, tired and lethargic. She was perfectly happy to relax in the cushioned wicker chair and study the people on the boulevard.
“Alain, you old dog! Where have you been hiding yourself lately?”
The greeting was in French, and turning her head, Noelle saw that a dark-skinned man with a moustache was clapping Alain on the shoulder. He caught her eye and bowed.
“Noelle, this is Guy Marais. Miss Webster is English, Guy,” Alain said unsmiling.
Noelle thought she detected a note of annoyance in his voice, and her own first impression of Monsieur Marais was not favorable. The thin moustache drew attention to a small, weak mouth, and she did not like his eyes.
“Enchante, mademoiselle.” He bowed over her hand. “I am beginning to understand why Alain neglects his haunts,” he added, in English. “May I join you for a moment?”
Noelle saw Alain’s jaw tighten, but he beckoned the waiter and ordered more drinks.
“You are on holiday, mademoiselle?” Marais enquired.
“No, I am working here.” She notice with dislike his small, almost feminine hands and wondered how Alain came to know him.
Marais produced a gold cigarette case. He wore a gold watch and a signet ring and gold links. He looked, thought Noelle, like a gigolo. Apparently insensitive to their coolness, he poured water into his Pernod, settled back and seemed set for a long chat. But after a few minutes Alain finished his drink and said curtly, “We have to go now, Marais.”
“Oh, too bad.” The other man rose, his glance running over Noelle with sly interest. “Perhaps we will meet again since you are here for some time, mademoiselle.” Then, in French which was too swift and idiomatic for her to follow, he murmured something to Alain.
What happened next had a nightmare quality. Noelle saw Alain’s lip curl back in something like a snarl, then his fist shot out and caught Marais under the jaw. It was not an expert punch, but it caught the other man off balance and he toppled back over his chair. There was a scrunch of torn wicker, the tinkle of breaking glass as the table tilted, and exclamations and shrieks from the people around them.
“Come on, Noelle.” Alain grabbed her arm, stopped just long enough to thrust some notes into the hand of a horrified waiter, and hustled her out of the cafe and across the pavement. A few seconds later he was sliding his car into the flow of traffic.
It took Noelle several minutes to recover from the shock. She glanced at Alain. He was watching the vehicles ahead, but his mouth was still compressed in an angry line, and there was a pulse working at his temple.
They drove for nearly fifteen minutes before he turned the car into a quiet side street and stopped.
“I am sorry, Noelle,” he said huskily.
“Don’t apologize. What was it all about?” she asked mildly.
“You didn’t understand?” There was enough light from the nearby street lamp for her to see his look of relief. “That swine Marais—I should never have introduced him,” he said viciously.
“Well, whatever he said, I imagine he’s regretting it.” She touched his arm. “Don’t look so furious, Alain.”
He rubbed his jaw and let out a long breath. “Most girls would be looking furious after that.”
“I don’t see why. It’s a kind of compliment to have one’s honor defended so vigorously.”
“You did understand, then?” he asked sharply.
“Not the actual words, but I gathered it was something about me. Oh, please”—as she felt his muscles tighten—“don’t go on being cross about it.”
“I could have broken his neck,” he said savagely.
“I’m glad you didn’t or we should both be spending the night at the gendarmerie. That would have pleased Madame Duvet,” Noelle said wryly.
Alain relaxed slightly. “I think, if you don’t mind, I will take you home now,” he said after a moment.
“Of course not. It’s almost ten o’clock in any case.”
At the corner of her street he switched off the engine, but she stopped him from getting out.
Please forget about it, Alain. It wasn’t really important. Thank you for supper.”
“And for putting you in a position to be insulted?” he asked bitterly.
“Don’t be silly. It wasn’t your fault.”
He caught both her hands and gripped them so tightly that it hurt. “If I had not been what I am, he would never have said it. You cannot understand, petite.”
“I understand that Monsieur Marais is the kind of man who always sees the worst. He probably judges everyone by his own standards,” Noelle said calmly.
Alain’s smile was wry. “While you like to think the best of people until you’re proved wrong.”
“Why not?” she answered lightly.
“Because that way you may get hurt, cherie. And some people are not all one thing; but a mixture of good and bad.”
Noelle smiled. “It’s a risk I’m prepared to run. Goodnight, Alain.” His hold had slackened and she withdrew her hands from his. On an impu
lse which she could not quite define, she reached over and kissed his cheek. Then, wondering if he might misunderstand, she slipped quickly out of the car.
Ten days passed. Noelle wondered if Mark had returned from London and, if so, why he had not been up to the nursery to See Robert. Since the night of the fracas in the cafe she had heard nothing from Alain, and had missed his lighthearted companionship during her off-duty periods. Perhaps he had lost interest in her, or perhaps he had found someone more amusing on whom to concentrate. Noelle could not help feeling a little hurt at this abrupt cessation of their friendship.
On the morning of her twenty-fifth birthday she awoke feeling rather depressed. While her grandmother had been alive, birthdays had been notable occasions, but now there was no one at all with whom to share the event. The day would be just like every other day.
But when she went into the day nursery she saw that there were two packages beside her plate on the breakfast table, and before she could cross to examine them Robert burst out of his room, shouting, “It’s your birthday! It’s your birthday!”
Noelle returned his hug with surprise and pleasure. “But how did you know it was my birthday, Robert?”
“I told him, mademoiselle.” Ginette came out of his room, smiling, a bunch of yellow chrysanthemums in her hand. “Don’t you remember? I wanted to read your horoscope and you told me you were born on this day.”
“Oh, I see. Fancy you making a note of it. Are those for me? How lovely—and how kind of you.”
“Now open my present,” Robert urged her excitedly.
Noelle sat down at the table and opened the larger of the two parcels. Ginette must have helped him to write her name on the wrapper, and she was touched by the French girl’s thoughtfulness. Until now, she had not been sure that the nurserymaid liked her.
Robert’s present was a large bottle of scent labelled “Passionnement.”
“It smells lovely,” he assured her. “I bought it with the money in my piggy bank. Do you like it?”
“It’s just what I wanted, darling. Mm ... delicious,” She sniffed the bright yellow liquid with a convincing expression of delight.