by Anne Weale
‘Do you mean that, Holly?’
The sudden tightening of his fingers made her suppress a gasp.
‘Of course I mean it. I—’ She bit back the words on her tongue. Straightening, she said, ‘I’ve learnt a few words of Italian. Just “please” and “thank you” and so on. I suppose you speak Italian fluently?’
‘Yes.’ His tone was abrupt.
Sensing his displeasure, Holly wondered if her instinctive gesture was not what he wanted from her. Perhaps it had been too childlike, or too much like Parson’s displays of affection. Perhaps what Pierce wanted from a woman wasn’t that kind of gesture but only signals of desire. Perhaps he was holding her hand on his thigh in the hope that she would caress him in a more exciting, inviting way.
But he must know she wouldn’t do that...couldn’t do that...not yet. They were not on those terms. She could imagine if he loved her, casting inhibitions to the winds and becoming as wanton as he wished. But a one-sided love was not the right climate for total abandonment, except, perhaps, when the lights were turned out in their bedroom.
It wasn’t far from her hotel to Fujiko Shintaro’s apartment. On arrival, a liveried doorman came forward to open the door and Pierce sprang out and turned to help her alight. While he paid the fare, Holly rearranged her wrap.
‘Not so cold tonight, miss,’ said the doorman. He was young and his smile was admiring.
Holly smiled back, as she did at everyone who was pleasant. ‘It doesn’t look as if there’s going to be a white Christmas after all.’
‘There’s snow in the north.’ The doorman’s eyes were saying that he fancied her.
At that moment Pierce turned round, intercepted the look and gave the young man an arctic stare which made him redden and look down.
To Holly’s astonishment, when they entered the lobby where an older member of the apartment block’s staff was on duty, he said, ‘Your doorman needs some more training in keeping his thoughts to himself. He’ll explain what I’m talking about. Have a word with him, will you?’
‘Yes, sir. Certainly, sir.’ If the man was baffled, he didn’t show it but ushered them into the lift.
On the way up to the penthouse, Holly said, ‘Wasn’t that rather severe, Pierce? You could get the doorman into trouble.’
‘He’s asking for trouble, looking at women like that. He’s lucky I didn’t swat him.’ Pierce sounded and looked tense with anger.
As the doors of the lift slid apart, Holly felt a frisson of apprehension. Long ago, in one of his talks about life and how to live it, her father had warned her about jealousy.
She could still remember his words. ‘Jealousy is a sickness... a mental illness. People who suffer from it see the world through a distorting lens. They suffer terribly themselves and they make other people’s lives hell. No matter how much you like someone, if you see signs of jealousy, steer clear of them, Holly. They’re dangerous people to mix with.’
As she removed her wrap, she looked up at the face of the man she was going to marry at half past eleven tomorrow and saw little knots of sinew at the angles of his jaw and a stormy look still in his eyes.
Was this the first intimation that Pierce was one of the people her father had warned her about?
CHAPTER NINE
IT WAS a party for twelve and almost everyone present had, like Pierce and herself, been born in a different country, even the married couples being a combination of nationalities. Only the hostess and her grandson had visible links with the same culture. When they went into dinner, Holly found herself next to a Frenchman many years older than herself.
‘You are the beautiful garden designer who has swept Pierce Sutherland off his feet, so Fujiko tells me,’ was his opening gambit.
‘I wouldn’t say that, but we are engaged to be married,’ Holly said, smiling.
‘You are too modest, mademoiselle. Were I thirty years younger, I should also be at your feet.’
He flirted with her all the way through the first course. But when Holly glanced down the table to where Pierce was sitting, wondering if he was aware of the Frenchman’s light-hearted attentions and was taking them seriously, he caught her eye and gave her a friendly wink.
Perhaps he had the sense to see that although her neighbour was playing the part of the gallant Frenchman for all he was worth, it was only in fun, and he had a very attractive Irish wife with whom, from time to time, he exchanged affectionate glances.
With the arrival of the second course, they both turned to their other neighbours, Holly’s being a Swede in his forties. From him she learnt that in the far north of Norway, because of the long hours of daylight and the effect of the Gulf Stream, rice could be grown. She filed this away to tell Pierce, hoping it would interest him, if it wasn’t something he already knew.
It wasn’t until after dinner that she had a chance to talk to Ben, although only in the company of other people, so that she couldn’t ask what she wanted to know.
Presently, he said to the others in the group. ‘Would you excuse us? There’s a Japanese painting Holly wants to see. It’s in another room.’
On the way there, he said, ‘As you probably guessed, I want to talk to you privately. We’ll go to my grandfather’s study. We shan’t be disturbed there.’
‘I wasn’t sure you would be here tonight,’ said Holly. ‘I thought you might have gone back to America.’
‘I’ve been in the north of Scotland, trying out the tent Pierce and I will be using on Aconcagua.’ He opened a door, feeling for the light switch before standing aside for her to precede him into a room lined with books and furnished with a large desk and two comfortable chairs on either side of a library table.
‘When he died, my grandfather was writing the second volume of his definitive work on the artists who specialised in carving netsuke,’ said Ben. ‘Do you know what they are? Come over here and I’ll show you some.’
He gestured towards a glass-fronted alcove between the rows of massed books. When he touched another switch, the alcove illuminated, the better to show a display of small carvings in ivory and wood.
‘Netsuke—it’s spelt N-E-T-S-U-K-E but pronounced netski—the toggles are used to anchor medicine boxes and purses to traditional Japanese costume,’ he explained. They’re an important art form. If you want to see a very fine collection of them, go to the Victoria and Albert museum.’
After giving her a minute or two to admire the carvings, many in the form of rats, mice and other small animals, he said, ‘I want to thank you for the advice you gave me when I came to see you in the country. We did as you suggested and it worked. It turns out that Charlotte’s grandmother is no longer as violently anti the Japanese as she used to be. Do you remember the VJ celebrations in the summer of 1995?’
‘Of course,’ said Holly, who had seen on television the parades and other functions commemorating the end of World War II in the Far East.
‘It seems the old lady saw a programme on TV which made her realise how much the Japanese had suffered. Charlotte’s parents hadn’t grasped that her attitude has changed. It’s a subject they’ve always avoided discussing with her so they didn’t know her outlook has mellowed.’
‘That’s wonderful, Ben. I’m so glad for you. Does that mean that you and Charlotte will be emulating us pretty soon?’
‘I hope so. I may even return to my father’s law firm. I never wanted to before, but now it seems more attractive. Anyway, I’m grateful to you, and I hope, soon after you come back from your honeymoon, I can get you together with Charlotte. She’s very keen to meet you. This is from both of us.’
He put his arms round her and hugged her.
It was a spontaneous gesture to which Holly responded with real affection, hoping that the young American and the girl he loved would become lasting friends.
As they drew apart, smiling warmly at each other, a voice from the doorway said, ‘Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?’
Holly was startled into an audible g
asp. Ben had steadier nerves. Without any visible surprise, he said, ‘Come on in. I’ve been showing Holly some of the netsukes. Is the party starting to break up?’
Pierce said coldly, ‘Not that I’ve noticed, but it’s time she and I left. Holly has a big day tomorrow.’
‘At least you aren’t having a huge wedding with all the strains that involves,’ Ben said, smiling at her, apparently unaware that his friend’s tone had not been friendly. ‘I hope when I tie the knot I can persuade my bride to do it quietly and privately. Aside from the massive cost of a fashionable wedding, who really enjoys that kind of three-ring circus?’
Neither Pierce nor Holly made any comment on this. They all left the room, Ben switching out the lights and closing the door behind them.
When Holly said goodnight to their hostess, inwardly she felt a good deal of embarrassment because Mrs Shintaro had not been invited to the wedding or the lunch at Claridges afterwards.
Whatever Fujiko felt inwardly about being excluded, there was nothing but warm affection in her manner during their parting exchange.
Going down in the lift, Holly said nothing, waiting for Pierce to break the silence. But he didn’t speak.
A different doorman from the one who had annoyed him earlier was on duty now and within moments of their leaving the building a taxi had seen this doorman’s signal.
Stepping into it, Holly knew that even if Pierce chose to ignore the incident upstairs she couldn’t let it pass.
For several minutes after the taxi had set off, she waited for him to initiate the kind of discussion about the party people normally had after going out together. But the minutes passed and he said nothing, staring out of the windows on his side of the vehicle with his face turned away at an angle which emphasised the slant of his cheekbone and the clean, taut line of his jaw.
At last she could bear no longer the unspoken tension between them.
She said, in a quiet, even voice, ‘Are you going to make a habit of following me every time I disappear with another man...even one who’s a close friend of yours?’
For some seconds she thought he was going to ignore the question. That irked her even more. Sulking drove her to distraction. She had thought it a hateful weapon since seeing her stepmother use it against her father.
But then Pierce spoke. ‘I wasn’t aware that you had disappeared until I looked round and you weren’t there. I assumed you had gone to the bathroom, but you were away so long that I began to wonder if you weren’t feeling well. When I spoke to Fujiko, she said you had left the room with Ben. Not very civil behaviour by anyone’s standards.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Holly said crisply. ‘Ben had something to tell me that wasn’t for public consumption. If I’d seen you leave the room with Fujiko, I would have thought nothing of it.’
‘Fujiko is older than my mother. Ben isn’t an elderly man. He’s not much older than you are.’
She could no longer repress her mounting indignation. ‘He’s your friend. He’s been testing the tent you’re going to share on Aconcagua. Can’t you trust him to spend ten minutes alone with your fiancée? Can’t you trust me?’
‘You misunderstand my concern,’ he said coldly. ‘I warned you before that you underestimate yourself. The way you look tonight, every man there was admiring you. You should be aware of your power and use it more circumspectly.’
Holly decided that, even though Ben hadn’t told Pierce his news yet, if he knew the trouble it was causing he wouldn’t object to her being the one to tell it.
She said, ‘I could be the most alluring woman in the world. It wouldn’t have the smallest effect on Ben. He’s still in love with someone else and it’s. going right for them now. That’s what he wanted to tell me. That’s why he was giving me a hug. Because he’s relieved and happy and he thinks I helped him get over his problem.’
‘How did you help?’ Pierce asked.
‘It’s a long and complicated story. I’ll tell you some other time. At the moment I’m too upset by the way you’ve behaved. You went over the top about the doorman and you were obviously furious when you saw Ben and me exchanging a perfectly innocent hug. If that’s how you’re going to be for the rest of our lives, I have to ask myself if I can live with a man who starts being suspicious and angry with so little reason.’
He shot out a hand, grasping her by the wrist, his fingers painfully tight. ‘I don’t like it when other men leer at you in my presence. He was out of line and deserved a sharp reprimand.’
‘Ben didn’t deserve to be glared at. It’s the second time you’ve been foul to him for no reason...and you’re hurting my wrist.’
‘I’m sorry.’ His fingers slackened, but he didn’t let go.
In the half-light of the taxi, its interior intermittently brightened by the beams from streetlamps and shop windows, they stared each other down.
Although in her heart she felt a sick despair that all her bright dreams of making him love her seemed about to blow up in her face, Holly refused to be routed by the fierce gleam in his eyes.
If she didn’t stand her ground now, she was giving him tacit permission to ride rough-shod over the rest of her life...if, after this, they could make a life together.
‘I don’t think Ben noticed,’ he said. ‘He’s not as sensitive as you are.’
‘Then you admit you were jealous?’
‘Yes, for a moment, I was. Is that a crime? Would you rather I had been indifferent?’
At this point the taxi pulled up outside the hotel, where a couple in evening dress were waiting for transport. Even if they hadn’t been there, waiting for Pierce and her to vacate the taxi, Holly wouldn’t have been able to reply immediately. She needed time to think how best to answer.
The doorman opened the door and she stepped out first, moving out of the way while Pierce paid the fare and the other couple got in. He must have given the driver a twenty-pound note and the man was short of change and took a little time to find the necessary money.
Holly looked at Pierce’s broad shoulders and remembered the night she had leaned against him and wept. She wished she understood him. Was it madness to marry a man she couldn’t rely on to behave in a way she found acceptable? Was the brutal pressure of his fingers on her wrist the first intimation that, given what he considered sufficient provocation, he might even be physically cruel to her? Or was that horrible possibility a figment of her imagination, prompted by an article on domestic violence in the paper she had read on the train this morning, plus a bad case of pre-wedding jitters?
She heard him. say goodnight to the driver and then he turned towards her, his expression inscrutable.
‘We have to talk this out. I’ll come in with you.’ Inside the lobby, he said, ‘Would you like some coffee?’
‘Why not?’ said Holly. ‘It’s not going to keep me awake. I’m unlikely to sleep much anyway.’
Pierce ignored the rider, turning towards a quiet corner of the large entrance lounge, having first made a sign to the night porter that he would require service.
Within moments of their sitting down in two armchairs arranged at right angles to each other, a waiter appeared. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘A pot of coffee and two glasses of Remy Martin brandy, please.’
‘Certainly, sir.’
‘Now,’ said Pierce, when the man had gone, ‘let me repeat my question. Would you prefer me to ignore other men’s attentions to you?’
‘You didn’t go overboard when the Frenchman I was sitting next to at dinner was flirting with me.’
‘I know him. He behaves like that with every attractive female. It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘You should have known that Ben hugging me was equally harmless.’
‘Did I suggest that it wasn’t?’
‘You didn’t say so...but you looked angry. Your whole manner was hostile.’
He was sitting with his elbows on the arms of the chair and his hands loosely clasped. Now he unclasped them, placing his close
d fingers on either side of his nose and closing his eyes for a moment.
The gesture reminded her that he had already had a difficult day because of the crisis which had blown up in Africa. In spite of her own hostile feelings, suddenly she found herself wanting to put her arms round him and hold him the way he had held her when she had been overwrought.
Instead, she said, ‘Perhaps, as I suggested earlier, we should put off the wedding for a bit. You have other things on your mind now. It’s not as if a postponement would upset a mass of elaborate arrangements and disappoint scores of guests.’
He opened his eyes and dropped his hands. ‘Is that what you want to do?’
‘I want what’s best for both of us. Maybe we’ve rushed into this. Maybe we need more time.’
‘You may,’ he said. ‘I don’t. I never go back on decisions. I only make them when I’m sure that what I’m planning is right.’
The waiter came back. They watched in silence while he arranged a coffee-pot, sugar, cream, cups and saucers, two balloon glasses of brandy and a dish of chocolates.
‘Are you staying here, sir?’
‘No, but Miss Nicholson is. It can go on her account,’ said Pierce, handing him a tip.
‘Thank you very much, sir.’ The waiter offered her a pen to sign the bill.
After she had poured out the coffee, she said, ‘I wish I had your confidence. It’s such a momentous step...marriage. People hope they’ve made the right choice but only time proves them right.’
Pierce drank some coffee and chased it down with almost the whole glass of brandy.
‘You’d better sleep on it, Holly. I can’t make up your mind for you. Perhaps your subconscious will. I’ll say goodnight.’
He crossed the lounge and, without turning round when he reached the door, left the hotel.
On the day of her wedding—if it were going to take place—Holly was woken at nine by her alarm clock. In the early hours of the morning she had re-set it so when eventually she did fall asleep she wouldn’t be woken up early.