by Anne Mather
“I really can’t understand your mentality,” said Paul, shaking his head, “Good God, man, what did you see in her in the first place? She’s not your usual type of girlfriend. She dresses abominably.”
“That’s only your opinion,” retorted Simon heatedly. “She’s really a sweet kid.”
“Then marry her,” drawled Paul coolly.
Simon moved restlessly, fingering his tie, “Julia … she would never divorce me,” he said lamely.
“She would if I made a generous settlement on her,” replied Paul calmly. “Haven’t you noticed? It’s money that interests Julia. You’re her meal ticket at the moment, but if she was rich enough to supply her own, who knows what she might do?”
“All right,” muttered Simon. “You’ve made your point.”
“I have indeed. You don’t want a divorce from Julia. You like your comfortable, no strings attached, relationship. Be honest with yourself and admit it.”
“All right,” said Simon. “All right, I agree. So help me.”
“Why should I help you?” asked Paul grimly. “I ought to let you stew in your own juice. If it was any other girl but Sandra Stacey I would do so.”
“I know. But you’ll do something because she’s Karen’s sister,”
“Because she’s a seventeen-year-old without any sense,” corrected Paul, angry himself now. He did not intend discussing Karen with his brother.
“Have it your way,” said Simon, shrugging. “I just want to be free of entanglements. Understand?”
“Perfectly. So, from now on, no matter what Sandra says you will not meet her. I’ll arrange for you to leave London for a while and when you get back I may have resolved the problem once and for all.”
“Good. But try and keep that little … so-and-so away from me.”
“I can’t imagine what she sees in a spineless creature like you,” said Paul, sighing.
“It’s the Frazer charm,” said Simon laconically. “Or don’t you use yours, brother dear?”
Paul’s eyes were icy. “Get out of here,” he snapped menacingly, “before I really lose my temper.”
“I’m going, thanks for your time.” Simon sounded sarcastic as he slammed the door behind him.
Paul sighed heavily. He would be glad when Simon became able to handle his life more intelligently.
He stared moodily into space. He had to admit that this time Simon was not entirely to blame. Sandra was definitely at fault. A man could only become close to a woman if the woman was agreeable. It was logical that given the chance, any man would take advantage of it. Was that what had happened in their case? Had Sandra flung herself at his head from the beginning? But how far had it gone? He prayed Sandra had not gone too far. Was she that foolish? Perhaps she really thought she loved him. Many women seemed to find him attractive. To a teenager, used to pallid youths, Simon might have seemed love’s young dream.
He frowned and drew on his cigarette. But that did not alter anything. Simon was married, and married men were not to be played with. Not even by their contemporaries, let alone adolescents.
Still in a disturbed frame of mind he met Arnold Gibson for lunch. Throughout the meal he remained taciturn and introspective, which was quite unlike his usual self. In consequence, very little of importance was discussed or decided upon and a further meeting had to be arranged. Paul felt he would not have been surprised if Gibson had decided to go elsewhere to execute his business. He had been rude and non-committal and Gibson was quite within his rights to object and expect better from him.
But fortunately, Gibson was an understanding man and he quite realized that something was troubling his companion. They parted on the best of terms with an arrangement to meet another day.
Paul was therefore in a savage frame of mind when he went back to his office at about three o’clock. He secretary, who was quite used to his moods, was surprised at his apparent animosity, and Paul had to apologize to her after snapping unreasonably at her.
“Forgive me,” he murmured, a half apologetic smile on his face. “I’m sorry to be such a bear.”
Miss Hopper smiled. “That’s all right, Mr. Frazer. I know you had Mr. Simon in here earlier on.”
Paul smiled in return. He could understand now how she had understood in the first place. The whole office building was aware of Simon’s indiscretions. He never made any attempt to keep his affairs private.
After Miss Hopper had gone he lit a cigarette. He had got to find a solution to Sandra Stacey’s problem. It was typically Simon to get himself into a mess and expect someone else to get him out of it.
A solution began forming in his mind as the afternoon wore on and as it did so his mood improved. If he could get this off his back he would feel entirely relaxed instead of wondering and dreading what might happen next.
Leaning forward abruptly, he lifted the receiver of his personal private outside line. He dialled the number of Karen’s apartment with a strange feeling, almost like reluctance. He had got to speak to her, however, so he might as well get it over with. The telephone rang at the other end of the line.
After what seemed like an age, when Paul was considering replacing the receiver and ringing later, the telephone was lifted, and Karen’s rather breathless tones answered.
“Hello! Who is that?”
Paul hesitated only a moment. Then he said, rather roughly:
“Karen. It’s me, Paul.”
Karen felt her heart skip a beat when she heard the husky voice addressing her. Why was he calling her today? Surely it couldn’t be about Sandra this time.
“Hello, Paul,” she replied, trying to sound casual and composed. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but I was in the bath.”
“Were you now?” He sounded amused. “Well, I’m sorry to have interrupted your ablutions, Karen, but our plans don’t appear to have worked.”
For a moment her mind went blank. “Plans?” she queried faintly.
“Sandra – and Simon,” he explained impatiently. “Surely you haven’t been sleeping in the bath?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so.” She chuckled a little. “I’m sorry, Paul.”
Paul sighed. “Well, just be sure that you don’t do anything so stupid,” he adjured her harshly.
“Darling, do get on,” she exclaimed, interrupting him. “I’m freezing, standing here in the altogether!”
“Karen!” he muttered reproachfully, and then he heaved a sigh. “Shall I ring back in a few minutes?”
“You could come round,” she commented thoughtfully. “I’d endeavour to be dressed by then, of course.”
“No, thanks.” Paul was adamant. He was aware that if he succumbed to the temptations to do just that, goodness knew what might happen. She was deliberately arousing him, and the picture of her in the bath brought back memories he wanted to forget completely.
“All right, darling, fire away. I’ll freeze a few moments longer. What has happened to Simon and Sandra?”
“They are still meeting.”
“What?” Karen was astonished.
“Yes, I know they were until today anyway. I think I’ve talked some sense into Simon now. We had quite a session this afternoon. Do you think you or your mother could do the same for Sandra? Apparently she has been running after him, ringing him up both here and at home, and writing him letters. That sort of thing.”
“Oh, lord,” Karen groaned. “Will she ever see sense, do you think?”
“I couldn’t say. She’s your sister. You know her better than I do. She really is the limit, though. And positively crazy about Simon. Simon came to see me today. That’s how I found out.”
Karen sounded annoyed. “I just can’t think of anything to say to her, and you know what Mother is like.”
“I know. Look, couldn’t your mother and Sandra take a holiday abroad somewhere, away from London at any rate? A few weeks will give Simon time to find someone else. Besides, Sandra herself might find a new interest. She’s young, and full of life, app
arently. Although it seems that boys of her own age bore her. Why else could she be interested in Simon? He’s a forbidden thrill.”
“Like me,” taunted Karen teasingly, and heard his sharp intake of breath. “But honestly, Paul, my mother isn’t very well off. I don’t suppose she could afford a holiday anywhere at the moment.”
“I’m quite willing to finance the idea,” remarked Paul coolly.
“No. No,” cried Karen angrily. “Don’t say such a thing, Paul. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Oh, but it has. I want Simon to give Sandra up just as much as you do. She’s far too young for him. If anything went seriously wrong, he would really be in a flat spin then.”
“Well, I don’t know what to say. It sounds now as though as I was assessing for the money.”
“My dear Karen, I can afford it.”
“I know, but …” Her voice trailed away. “Anyway, you had better ring Mother and tell her. She would probably jump at the idea. She has no pride where money is concerned.”
“Hurrah for her,” said Paul, sounding amused. “Really, Karen, don’t be so stand-offish and independent. I’d like to help you … all of you.”
“But this is our problem,” she exclaimed as a last attempt.
“You made it mine, too, remember,” he said softly.
“Very well, have it your own way,” she replied defeatedly.
Paul sounded irritated. “Look, Karen, I tell you what I will do. I’ll pick you up at your apartment at about eight o’clock this evening and we will both go round and see Madeleine and Sandra. Right?”
Karen sighed, feeling her resistance sapping. To turn over the problem to Paul was such a wonderful thing to do. It was like having a fairy godfather. She had to capitulate.
“It sounds a great idea,” she admitted quietly. “But won’t … Ruth … object?”
“Why should she?” asked Paul abruptly. “Stop bringing my personal affairs into this. It only concerns your mother and Sandra. No one else.”
“All right, honey,” she exclaimed. “Don’t snap my head off. But won’t she expect to see you tonight?”
“Hardly,” he replied sardonically. “She flew to the States a couple of days ago to bring over her parents for the wedding.”
“Oh.” Karen felt the familiar pain in her stomach. “All right, Paul, will you come up, or shall I come down to meet you?”
“I’ll come up,” he answered, sounding amused again. “Unless the lift gets stuck half-way, of course.”
Karen chuckled and replaced her receiver. Although the affair of Sandra and Simon was a problem, she felt she ought to feel grateful to them for enabling her to meet Paul again.
And yet wasn’t she just creating trouble for herself this way? Paul might find it all an amusing episode and nothing more, while she was getting more emotionally involved every minute.
She heard the knock at the door at seven-thirty. She glanced at her watch in some surprise; he was early! She had been sitting on the couch, reading a magazine, and now she threw the magazine down and went to the door eagerly. She was wearing a shift of apricot jersey that combined deliciously with her creamy complexion and her hair was loose about her shoulders.
Flinging open the door, smiling welcomingly, she stepped back in obvious surprise and dismay when she found Lewis Martin outside.
“Why, Lewis!” she exclaimed. “This is a surprise!”
“Hello, Karen,” he smiled. His keen eyes took in the apricot dress and her flushed cheeks and they narrowed a little. “You look very attractive,” he went on. “I assume you’re ready to go out.”
“Yes, in a little while,” she agreed awkwardly. “Would you like to come in?”
“Thank you.” He stepped inside and with some reluctance Karen closed the door.
“Will you have a drink?” she asked, twisting her fingers together.
“Thank you again. A vodka, please.”
Karen poured the drink and handed it to him. “Now,” she said, trying to sound unconcerned, “what can I do for you?”
Lewis smiled. “I’ve called to see whether you’re interested in taking on the new design for that special satin fabric which they’re going to launch in August,” he replied smoothly. “As I expected you to come into the office this week and you’ve disappointed me, I decided I would come round to see if you were all right. I see you are.”
Karen felt on edge. Lewis had said nothing wrong and yet there was something menacing about his manner. It was odd, but recently she had felt this atmosphere around him. She could not define it, and eventually put it down to her own disturbed condition.
“Yes – well – may I let you know?” she said, flushing. “I’m still working on the carpets.”
“Of course, my dear. No hurry.” Then why have you come round here? she wanted to shout. Spying on me?
“Good!” Karen poured herself a sherry and sipped it earnestly. She wondered how long he intended to stay. If Paul had arrived to find Lewis here he would suspect the worst in the circumstances. Why, oh, why had Lewis chosen tonight to call?
She accepted a cigarette from him and glanced surreptitiously at her watch. Ten minutes to eight already.
Lewis did not sit down. He wandered round the room as Paul had done, looking at her paintings. Would he notice one was missing?
“I really can’t understand why you waste so much of your energies on these,” he said, deliberately, Karen thought.
“Can’t you?” she asked, longing to make a retort about Paul’s comments.
“No. You’re so good at your work as a commercial designer, you ought to design originals for competition work.”
“I prefer relaxation when I’m not working for you,” she replied stiffly.
“Ah, yes.” He swung round. “Relaxation is a great thing. And what would you say relaxed you?”
Karen frowned. What was he getting at now?
“Oh, painting … and reading … and driving …” she said slowly.
“Driving! Yes, indeed. A very pleasant pastime,” he murmured softly. “I saw an interesting car near here the other day.”
“Did you?” Karen was frankly bored now. And Paul would be here at any moment.
“Yes, indeed. A Facel Vega, a cream Facel Vega.”
Karen’s tongue, which was moistening her lips, stopped in mid-air. Deciding to take the bull by the horns, she said defiantly:
“I believe Paul drives a cream Facel Vega.”
Lewis did not look surprised, although he said: “Does he? I didn’t know.”
Karen was convinced that he did not know very well, and that this was his way of telling her he knew Paul had been to the flat. What was he thinking of? Was he having her followed? Or was he following her himself? She shivered involuntarily.
“He was here a few days ago,” she said clearly. “He came to see my awful paintings. He thought they were good.”
“Did he? How very interesting.” Lewis’s eyes narrowed coldly.
Suddenly there was another knock at the door. Ignoring Lewis, Karen thankfully went to answer it. It could only be Paul.
He stood on the threshold, dressed tonight in a dark blue suit and a thick camel-hair overcoat. He looked so handsome and familiar that Karen wanted to fling herself into his arms and risk the rebuffs which would surely come. He smiled at Karen and then saw Lewis. He glanced swiftly at Karen, but Karen was not going to have him walk out on her now. Sliding an arm through his, she drew him inside, saying:
“Lewis is just going, Paul.” It was forcing Lewis’s hand, but he merely nodded and replaced his glass on the tray. “I’ll let you know about those designs in a day or so,” she said, as he reached the door.
“Very well.” Lewis inclined his head at Paul. “Good evening, Frazer.”
Paul merely nodded his head but did not speak.
Karen closed the door thankfully after he had gone and leaned back against it. Then she straightened and looked across at Paul.
“For you
r information, he arrived at precisely seven-thirty,” she stated clearly, a flush staining her creamy cheeks.
“You don’t have to justify yourself to me,” he replied, loosening his coat. “I like this apartment, Karen.”
Karen sighed. “Would you like a drink?” she asked.
Paul smiled. “Thank you, yes. I’ll get it.” He crossed to the drinks and poured himself a whisky, but Karen did not want any more. Then he offered her a cigarette and lounged on to the couch. He looked very much at ease, almost at home, thought Karen, her spirits rising a little.
She drew on her cigarette and crossed the room restlessly.
“Sit down!” commanded Paul suddenly, and with an exclamation she subsided on to a low armchair.
“Now,” he said quietly, “relax. I’ve not come here to quarrel with you, even if I did find Martin already in possession.”
“Lewis possesses nothing; not me, at least,” retorted Karen, sighing again. “Why do you have to say things like that, Paul?”
She rose abruptly to her feet and crossed the room again, but as she passed Paul he leaned forward and with tiger-like speed his fingers fastened round her wrist in a vice-like grip.
“What would you have me say?” he asked, his eyes brooding and intense.
“You’re hurting me,” she protested, trying to free her wrist.
“Am I?” He did not slacken his grip, but rose to his feet, his broad body towering over her. His nearness was almost too much for her. She had the strongest impulse to press herself against him. “Go on,” he continued. “What would you like me to say? That I like your dress? That you look very beautiful tonight?”
Karen flushed. “No. I wouldn’t presume to think such a thing,” she replied. “Nothing as blatant as that. I know you’re an engaged man too, you know. I just wish you wouldn’t make veiled insinuations.”
Paul’s eyes darkened. “That man strips you naked every time he looks at you,” he muttered violently. “If you can’t see the look in his eyes, you must be incredibly naïve.”
Karen wrenched herself away from him.