Sweet Pretence

by Jacqueline Gilbert

  He drives the right car, Freddy thought suddenly, seeing the gleaming red Tiger in her mind's eye. He's like a tiger himself, lazily waiting, dozing in the sun until it's time to pounce.

  She hushed Megan's waterfall of words and, picking her up, sat her on the kitchen table. 'Slowly, Meggie darling, slowly. If you talk so fast I can't understand what you're trying to tell me. Joseph wants to take you where?'

  'To see Peter Pan fly. It was our secret. You can come too, Mummy. Joseph says so.'

  Freddy looked over her daughter's head and met Joe's look. 'At Drury Lane?'

  she questioned. 'When?'

  'On Saturday, if it's convenient.'

  'We can go, Mummy, can't we?' begged Megan, beginning to be worried that such a marvellous treat might be denied her.

  'We could be doing something else on Saturday,' challenged Freddy, hating herself, knowing she could never say no to the treat, for Megan's sake.

  'Your mother assured me that you would be free,' Joe responded equably.

  'How organised you are, Joe. So Mother's been in on the act too? Yes, she did ask me to keep this Saturday free in case they came over.'

  Megan tugged her sleeve. 'Can we go, Mummy?'

  'Yes, we can go,' Freddy answered, lifting her daughter from the table and watching her dash excitedly into the hall, Houdini barking at her heels. 'It's very kind of you, Joe.' Her thanks sounded stilted even to her ears, and she made more effort. 'I had tried to get tickets myself but couldn't.'

  'It's a case of who you know.'

  'What would you have done if Mother's little plan hadn't worked?'

  'I had every faith in Mrs Leigh.'

  You must have made Mother's day, thought Freddy with grim amusement.

  'And if you couldn't have made it, I would have asked Nina to come with us—with your permission, of course. Nina's good with children,' Joe said blandly.

  Over my dead body, thought Freddy. 'I haven't thanked you for my Christmas present, Joe.'

  His lips twitched. 'I know you haven't. Thanking me doesn't come easy, does it, Fred?'

  'I've hardly had the opportunity to get a word in,' she defended, annoyed to feel the colour rise in her cheeks. Blast the man, he was too perceptive for words! 'And written thanks are in the post.' Thank goodness she was able to say that. 'After all, it is Megan you came to see, isn't it?'

  Joe inclined his head, eyes dancing. 'I fear I'm rapidly falling in love with your daughter, Fred.'

  'Poor Joe, at the mercy of a female!' she mocked. 'Never mind, I'm sure you'll soon recover. And as for your book, I'm delighted to have a copy again, and one signed by the author too! I've re-read it and enjoyed it even more than the first time. Thank you.'

  'Megan thanked me properly,' he pointed out silkily.

  Freddy had the mental picture of Megan's hands on Joe's cheeks as her serious little face came close for the kiss.

  'Meggie is given to impulsive gestures,' she told him, and walked into the hall to retrieve his coat. 'What are the arrangements for Saturday?'

  She resisted the pleas of Megan to join her at the window to wave goodbye. What the devil had she let herself in for? she wondered, and what else could she have done? Certainly Nina Welsh wasn't going to have the pleasure of seeing Meggie enjoying her first Peter Pan! Really, she was beginning to feel that she had no control over anything any more!

  She would get Saturday over and done with, and then any further suggestions of outings for Megan would be firmly squashed. A warning smell issued from the kitchen and, giving a wail of alarm, she dashed to the oven and rescued the pie. Megan assured her mother, who seemed unusually upset, that she liked the 'burny-bits'.

  Saturday arrived at last. The snow had turned to rain and Joe stowed wellies, raincoats and hats into the car boot without comment. He raised brows at the holdall and Freddy said drily, 'Travelling with a five-year-old has its hazards and there are some things a wise parent never goes without.'

  Joe grinned and secured Megan into the back.

  Though it rained solidly for the whole of the day, it was one of pure magic. Megan sat riveted in the theatre, wide-eyed throughout the play, tears very close when it was thought that Tinkerbell was dying, cheering when Captain Hook was overthrown, completely lost in the world of make-believe. Freddy, watching Joe watching Megan, wished she understood him. They had high tea after the show and Megan had known, young as she was, that this was a special treat and behaved beautifully. Freddy, like Megan, didn't want the day to end.

  It was past Megan's bedtime by the time they arrived back at Dean Close. Joe carried her in, fast asleep, and while he was unloading the car Freddy undressed her and put her into bed. When she was settled, Freddy found Joe in the living-room, rain glistening on his trenchcoat and the soft felt hat he had removed on entering.Would he stay for a while? Freddy wondered, her pulse quickening despite all her good intentions. She was saved from wondering for long by the ringing of the telephone. She excused herself and went into the hall to answer it and returned, saying, 'It's Nina Welsh, for you.'

  He was not long. Coming back into the room, he explained, 'I gave Nina your number. I hope you didn't mind?'

  'Not at all,' Freddy said. 'I'm sorry Megan isn't awake to thank you herself for such a lovely day, but I think you must know how much she enjoyed it. It was kind of you to take her. To take us. I've enjoyed myself immensely.'

  'Me too.' Joe smiled. 'I haven't seen Peter Pan for years, and Meggie was a worthy excuse. Goodnight, Frederica.'

  Freddy closed the door on him and slipped the chain. What a fool she was!

  She had only herself to blame. Admittedly life had been giving a few malicious little digs, throwing her into Joe's path willy-nilly, undermining her intention to keep out of his way. And she had given in to an impulse up in Yorkshire, which she didn't regret one little bit, but now was the time to take stock, to realise and accept her vulnerability where he was concerned. She made herself a stiff drink and sat down to watch a soporific soap on the television. When the front doorbell rang she was surprised and went to answer it, finding Patrick Tyson standing under the porch.

  'Why, hello, Patrick,' she exclaimed, 'what brings you here?''

  'I was passing and stopped on the off chance you might be in.' Patrick stepped inside, smoothing his fair hair with the palm of his hand. 'But there is a reason for the visit,' he added.

  Unbidden, Joe's words about Patrick regarding herself shot into Freddy's mind and she squashed the prickle of unease she had felt on seeing her boss. To hell with Joe's snide remarks, and as she had told him in no uncertain manner—she could look after herself.

  'Can I get you a drink? Whisky?' she asked, switching off the TV.

  'Thanks.' Patrick followed her into the room. She was used to seeing him in suits, so the casual waterproof jerkin and sweater and cavalry twill trousers were unfamiliar to her. He really was extremely handsome, and his eyes were the deepest blue she had ever seen on a man. She wondered why he didn't attract her in the least.

  'A whisky and dry ginger coming up.' Freddy handed him the glass and topped up her own. 'Did you have a good Christmas, Patrick? And how is Dinah?'

  'She's well. We don't set much store by Christmas, you know. Cheers, by the way. We had one or two parties, sorry you were away and missed them, and we were back in the office by the Wednesday.' He smiled. 'I suppose you had a traditional Christmas with your family?'

  Freddy nodded and smiled back. 'I think that's the way it's going to be for years,' she admitted warmly. 'Children become secure knowing what to expect, and to tell the truth, we adults love it too.'

  'I heard about the trouble you had with your car from Corey. A damned nuisance, that. When is it going to be ready?'

  When had Joe seen Patrick? At one of those parties, perhaps? 'They said next Tuesday,' said Freddy.

  'I have an appointment in Leeds on Tuesday. I can give you a lift up.'

  'Oh, well, that's kind of you, Patrick, but...'

  The door
bell saved her from floundering any more. She rose thankfully to her feet, still carrying her glass, saying, 'It's quite a night for visitors... excuse me, Patrick.'

  Joe was standing on the step, collar upturned, the brim of his hat pulled down low over his forehead, dripping the occasional drop of rain. He was the last person she had expected and Freddy said in surprise, 'Why, hello again, Joe! What's the matter, have you forgotten something?' She gazed at him in puzzlement and wondered why his face looked so wintry.

  'I found this in the car and thought Megan might be disappointed to find it missing in the morning when she wakes.' He handed her the Peter Pan souvenir programme which was full of glossy, coloured pictures of the artists and the show. He glanced over his shoulder towards Patrick's distinctive white Mercedes Benz parked at the kerb. 'Is Tyson here?'

  Freddy stiffened at his tone. 'Yes. He's called in for a drink,' she replied smoothly, indicating her own glass, her chin coming up, resentful anger bringing a spark to her eyes.

  'I see.' Joe stared at her hard, face wooden. 'I'm sorry I disturbed you.' He turned and walked down the path to the Tiger and Nina Welsh who was sitting in the passenger seat.

  'Bloody-minded man!' ground out Freddy. 'Jumping to all the wrong conclusions!'

  When she walked back into the room, she said with rather more enthusiasm than she intended, 'Thanks for the offer, Patrick, I'd love a lift.'

  'Good.' Patrick rose to his feet and gave her a smile. He put down his empty glass. 'Thanks for the drink.' He followed her into the hall, ignoring Dini, who was wanting some fuss. 'I'll let you know more details about Tuesday later. Goodnight, Freddy.'

  'GOODNIGHT, PATRICK.' FREDDY CLOSED THE DOOR BEHIND HIM AND

  THOUGHT ANGRILY THAT IT WAS ALL JOE COREY'S FAULT!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE hotel dining-room was quiet and select, and the cuisine exemplary. Patrick, in a light-coloured suit, perfectly matched his surroundings. He was used to such creature comforts and it showed. In deference to the white Mercedes, Freddy was wearing a smart, long-jacketed navy suit with emerald-green accessories. This included a stylish trilby hat, set at a jaunty angle, which turned the eyes as she passed.

  They had reached the coffee stage of the meal, and so far had spoken only of business matters. When Patrick had picked Freddy up that morning she had been regretting her impulsive acceptance of his offer of a lift, yet what excuse could she have given? No one without an extremely good reason would turn down a comfortable, relaxed ride in a Mercedes Benz! If Joe hadn't been so stupidly disapproving at finding Patrick at Dean Close she might have thought up something that would have sufficed, but he had made her so hopping mad she had said yes.

  'I have some good news,' Patrick announced, 'we've been given the go-ahead from Finance for the Queen's project.'

  'That's wonderful!' exclaimed Freddy, her face lighting up. So much had happened since she had first put the idea to Patrick that it had been pushed to the back of her mind and it must have been at least nine weeks ago.

  'It's likely that more than one director will be involved over the eight or nine months' shoot,' Patrick paused and spooned sugar into his coffee, smiling as he went on, 'but I would like you to produce the programme, Freddy.'

  A swoosh of pleasure swept over her, deepening the colour in her face. This was a prestigious undertaking. She tried to compose her voice, but could not totally hide her exultation. 'Thank you. I'm flattered you think me capable.'

  'No need to be. You've proved yourself over the past three years.'

  'When do we start?'

  'The beginning of May, in time for the Shakespeare rehearsals, although we'll probably go in earlier for the preliminary casting and read-through. David Herrick is free at that time, so he'll be the first of the directors.'

  Freddy nodded, pleased it was David, whose work she admired. She was already turning over in her mind possible snags that would need to be ironed out, although the Queen's Theatre, being based in Queensbridge, would mean she would be based at home for most of the time. The June trip to France for Othello could cause problems, but she would cross that bridge when it came. Possibly her mother would come over to Dean Close for that period—it would only be for a week—her father too, now that he was semi-retired.

  Another aspect of the job that suddenly flashed through her with jolting vigour was that she-would be coming into contact with Joe. He was directing Othello and, as producer of film to be shot inside the rehearsal rooms, following the play on stage and then on tour, she was bound to be bumping into him all the time. So much for keeping out of his way, she thought grimly.

  She came back to what was going on around her with the realisation that Patrick had said something to her and that she had been slowly stirring her coffee for longer than was necessary.

  She gave a laugh. 'Sorry, Patrick, I was miles away!'

  'About seventy, I suspect, centring on the Queen's Theatre,' Patrick replied, smiling. 'I'm not complaining. I like to see hard work going hand in hand with talent.' He paused, as if searching for the right words. 'I admire you very much, Freddy, do you know that?'

  Freddy gazed across the table, her face showing nothing of the alarm that now filled her. 'Why, thank you, Patrick, I'm very grateful for all your help and encouragement...'

  'I wasn't talking about your work, although that does apply. You know what I really mean, don't you, Freddy?'

  'I was trying to head you off,' Freddy replied quietly.

  'Must you? There was no appointment in Leeds.' Patrick took the hand resting near his coffee cup in his. 'Didn't you guess?'

  Freddy shook her head, her eyes on that hand clasp. She said, frowning slightly, 'If I'd known, ! would have-refused your offer.'

  'I knew that.' Patrick released her hand which had lain in his passively, and sat back in his chair. 'Do you mind if I smoke?' When Freddy murmured,

  'Please do,' he lit a cigarette and drew on it deeply before continuing, 'If it's Dinah you're thinking about, you wouldn't be hurting her. We go our own way these days. I won't bore you with the reasons.'

  'I'm sorry, Patrick.'

  'And I'd make sure we were discreet. I've held off from telling you how I feel for some time. It was never my intention to become emotionally involved with you, Freddy, but these things have a habit of creeping up unawares, and my good intentions collapsed, I'm afraid.' He studied her for a long moment. Freddy did not realise that she had lost her colour and that her green eyes were dulled with anxiety. 'I'm going to be disappointed, aren't I?' Patrick said at last.

  'I'm sorry, Patrick.' Freddy felt like a stuck needle on a record, but couldn't think of anything else to say. She could hardly tell him he was a fool if he thought Dinah wouldn't find out. She probably suspected something already, Freddy thought, recollecting the smiling but cold manner Dinah always presented her way. And if Dinah's heart wouldn't be hurt, her pride certainly would be affected. There was something else she couldn't tell him—that she didn't fancy him.

  Patrick glanced round the emptying dining-room, face impassive, returning to regard Freddy once more. 'Tell me, is David Herrick one of thereasons?'

  He grimaced a smile. 'Sorry, I shouldn't have asked that.'

  Freddy shook her head slightly, putting an elbow on the table and pressing the tips of slender fingers on her forehead. 'David is a good friend and I like working with him.'

  'But there is someone else?'

  She dropped her eyes to her coffee, which looked revoltingly cold. 'Yes,' she heard herself saying, 'there is someone else.'

  'Thank you for telling me. The dent in my ego is now not so deep.' Patrick's voice was wry. 'I won't embarrass you again, Freddy, and this alters nothing in our professional capacity. I want you to understand that.' He glanced at his watch. 'Shall we be going, if you've finished? We've still a few miles ahead of us.'

  Freddy thought Harrogate beautiful, an attractive elegant city, noted for its waters and healthy, bracing air. The Renault was ready for collection, and w
hile Freddy settled up the paperwork Patrick stood by the white Mercedes, waiting.

  When she drove out of the garage and pulled up alongside, winding down the window, he said, 'Off you go. Drive carefully. There's someone I can see in Bradford. I've just rung them and they're in.' He smiled, nodded, and waved her on.

  Freddy drove south with much to think about.

  Judith, now back from America, showed no surprise when told about Patrick's declaration. 'Why shouldn't he fancy you? You're an attractive, intelligent woman, and if his home life isn't all it should be, you can understand why he's always at the office. I'm surprised he didn't guess you'd turn him down.'

  'He did, but decided to ask anyway. I let him think there was someone else. It seemed kinder than saying I couldn't return the compliment.'

  'That reminds me, how is Joseph Corey these days?' Judith's face was all innocence. 'Megan seems to have taken a shine to him, it's Joseph this and Joseph that.' She settled herself more comfortably in the chair. 'I turn my back and all sorts of things happen. Come on, fill me in.'

  Freddy did so, in a matter-of-fact voice, telling Judith how Joe had taken over from Tiny Dakin in Yorkshire, how they had delivered baby Josephine together, how her car had been smashed and he had delivered her and her parcels to Boston, and finally the trip to Peter Pan. Judith listened, making a few startled exclamations as the tale unfolded, asking no awkward questions, but reading much between the lines. At the end she said bluntly, 'Have you considered that Joe might be jealous of Patrick Tyson?'