Seen by Candlelight

by Anne Mather

  Madeline looked hurt, and Karen reached for her cigarettes. She lit two and handed one to Paul. He took his naturally as though they had always done this. It had been a favourite habit in the old days, but no longer.

  The journey to Barneton was accomplished in an hour and Paul drove through the village to the Barn Owl.

  It turned out to be a rather olde worlde public house with black beams and brick fireplaces. Karen quite liked the look of it and said so. Paul turned the car into the small car park. The Facel Vega dwarfed the rather limited parking space.

  Paul slid out, followed by Karen, and while he helped Madeline out, Karen pulled on her coat. Paul too, put on the thick duffel-coat lying on the back seat, for the scent of the sea was unmistakable and the wind blowing offshore was cold and damp.

  They walked through a low door into the building. Paul had to bend his head and even Karen felt she only just made it under the beam. It was not yet opening time and the place looked deserted. An elderly woman appeared from behind the reception desk and approached them stiffly.

  “Yes, can I help you?” she said, taking in their appearance at a glance. She obviously recognized the cut of Paul’s clothes for an ingratiating smile came to her thin lips and she waited patiently for his reply.

  “We’re looking for a Miss Sandra Stacey,” replied Paul smoothly. “I understand she is staying here.”

  The woman looked surprised. “There’s no one of that name here,” she denied politely. “I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place.”

  Paul was unperturbed. “Then did a young girl register here either late last night or early this morning?”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Well … I … yes, a Miss Nicholson she said her name was.”

  Madeline gasped audibly and the woman said suspiciously:

  “Is she in trouble? Or are you friends of hers?”

  “She’s in no trouble,” replied Paul. “This is her mother and sister. She ran away from home yesterday, and we have come to find her.”

  “Oh.” The woman relaxed. “I see.”

  “And is she in? asked Madeline impatiently. “I must see her.”

  “Yes. She’s in her room,” said the woman slowly. “I’ll go and tell her you’re here.”

  “Don’t bother,” said Paul shortly. “If you tell her mother which room is hers, I think she would like to see her alone for a minute.”

  The woman frowned but shrugged. “Very well. Do I understand that Miss Nicholson will be checking out again today?”

  Paul bit his lip. “I expect so, why?”

  “Well, it’s been very inconvenient for me,” she said irritatedly. “I’ve had to put clean sheets on that bed and make special meals …”

  Paul looked cynical. “I think we can settle that,” he murmured with an understanding smile, and the woman smiled in return.

  It was blackmail, thought Karen, sickened by her mother’s total disregard for this angle. She was too eager to find Sandra and no doubt tell her how foolish she had been but that she forgave her.

  The woman showed Madeline which room to go to and then she and Paul disappeared into the office behind the reception desk, while Karen wandered aimlessly into the lounge. It was quite a pleasant room, with small tables and a long, low bar, quite out of character to the rest of the building.

  She was not there alone long before Paul joined her, putting his wallet back into his pocket. She flushed, feeling unreasonably guilty.

  “This is quite a nice place,” she said, forcing herself to speak lightly.

  “I shall like it better when we’re leaving it behind,” he replied harshly. “We’re going straight back to London and to a doctor I know.”

  “A doctor? For Sandra?” Karen looked surprised.

  “Of course. I want this myth solving one way or the other. I personally don’t believe that so convenient a thing as a baby could happen. It might be true, of course, and by seeing a doctor we can confirm it, right?”

  Karen clasped her hands together.

  “Oh, Paul, I really hope she has been making it up, even though it’s a cruel and horrible thing to do. What a relief it would be!”

  “I know,” Paul smiled at her suddenly, his eyes warm and gentle. “And I personally will have something to say to our Miss Sandra if it is all lies. Poor old Simon! I really felt sorry for him this morning.”

  Karen shivered and wrapped her coat round her warmly. The room was unheated and cold and she felt frozen. Paul in his thick coat and dark suit looked strong and vital and she felt utterly weak and defenceless. If only she dared tell him how she was feeling. What would he say? Would he remind her of his other obligations and of the fast, approaching date of his marriage?

  “Tell me,” she said suddenly. “Did you have lunch with Ruth?”

  Paul shook his head. “As far as I know, Ruth had lunch with her parents. Why?”

  “I just wondered whether she objected to your coming down here this afternoon.”

  Paul looked thoughtfully at her.

  “No, she did not object,” he remarked smoothly. “What Ruth thinks now is of no consequence to me.”

  “No consequence …” echoed Karen wildly, unable to prevent the sudden leaping of her heart.

  Paul looked down at her and she felt her face burning at the expression in his eyes. What did it mean? What did it all mean?

  And then before any more could be said there were footsteps in the hall and Sandra came stalking angrily into the lounge, followed by a tearful Madeline. She looked utterly dejected and defiantly youthful.

  “Well, well. Hello, Sandra,” said Paul, reluctantly moving away from Karen. “What a pleasant surprise!”

  Sandra flushed scarlet. “Don’t make me laugh,” she said coldly. “What is this? The Sunday school outing?”

  “No. The posse,” replied Paul, a smile playing round his mouth. “Aren’t you pleased to see us, honey?”

  “You don’t need me to answer that,” said Sandra bitterly.

  “True enough,” said Paul, the smile leaving his face. “Do you know what a menace you are, young woman? Come on. Outside. Where’s your suitcase?”

  “It’s in the hall,” said Madeline weakly. “Have you paid the bill … if there was one?”

  “I’ve given her freedom to go if that’s what you mean,” nodded Paul. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  The car was deliciously warm after the lukewarm hotel and even Sandra found the luxurious comfort enjoyable after her poky little room and hard-sprung bed.

  Paul drove out of the car park and then trod on the accelerator and sent the car surging forward.

  Then he said bluntly: “So you’re expecting a baby, Sandra?”

  Sandra was obviously not expecting such a frontal attack and looked mildly uncomfortable.

  “In November,” she said defiantly.

  “Quite a long way off,” he remarked dryly. “Are you quite sure?”

  Karen bit her lip and glanced back at her sister’s scarlet face.

  “Of course I am sure,” replied Sandra coldly. “Women have ways of knowing these things, you know. I’m not a child.”

  “I’m sure you’re not,” agreed Paul smoothly. “A child wouldn’t have thought out this complicated plan. Just out of interest, how did you get here, anyway?”

  “I came down last night. I hitched a lift in a lorry.”

  “You did what!” exclaimed Madeline. “Good lord, Sandra, you might have been raped or murdered. You foolhardy infant!”

  “I am not an infant,” gasped Sandra churlishly. “You don’t understand at all, none of you.”

  “No, and nor do you,” replied Paul easily. “You’re in a pretty desperate situation, young Sandra.”

  “How do you make that out? I love Simon. What would be simpler?”

  “It would be simpler if Simon loved you,” replied Paul cruelly. “Would you care to hear what he said this morning when he told me your address?”

  “He told you my add
ress?” she gasped. “Oh, how could he?”

  “How do you think we found you?” exclaimed Karen impatiently.

  “I suppose so,” said Sandra dully. “All right,” Paul, what did he say?”

  “He begged me to come down here today and tell you that he was through. Why else do you think I’m here? Don’t you think he would have come to find you himself if he really loved you?”

  Sandra was looking a little less sure of herself.

  “He’s going to get a divorce,” she cried shrilly.

  “I think not,” said Paul coldly. “One has to be cruel to be kind, Sandra. Poor Simon has no intention of marrying you. Could you imagine him saddled with a wife and child without a job? I certainly won’t help him.”

  Sandra burst into tears. “Some brother, you are!” she cried bitterly.

  Paul shrugged. “Whatever I may be is beside the point. I honestly tell you, Sandra, Simon doesn’t want to marry you. He enjoyed your company, but he usually loves a girl and then leaves her. You must have known his reputation. You have only yourself to blame.”

  “But the baby!” she cried pitifully. “It’s Simon’s baby. He’s got to marry me.”

  “Is that why you made it up?” asked Paul bluntly. “To force Simon’s hand?”

  “Made it up?” Sandra was shocked into speechlessness.

  Paul shrugged, and Karen wondered if he had gone too far. Sandra was very pale and wan, and she began believing that she really was pregnant.

  “Karen!” wailed Sandra at last. “Are you going to let him speak to me like that? Your own sister?”

  Karen bit her lip and glanced sideways at Paul. Paul’s eyes were dark and enigmatic.

  “Leave Karen out of this!” he muttered. “It has nothing to do with her. You got yourself into this arid you alone can get yourself out.”

  “And you don’t believe me!” exclaimed Sandra. “Paul, I always liked you, I even thought I was in love with you once. How can you be so cruel!”

  “Sandra! You’ve said you’re not a child. Very well then, you must be treated as an adult. And as an adult I don’t think you are expecting a baby. In fact, I’d go so far as to bet on it.”

  Madeline began to cry. It had been too much for her and Karen felt a ridiculous desire to laugh. What a strange bunch they were, the Stacey family. Little wonder if Paul found little to appeal to him in herself.

  “Well, I am,” insisted Sandra at last. “I really am.”

  “Then we’ll go directly to my own doctor and confirm it,” said Paul abruptly. Karen thought he looked rather disgusted now and she wondered seriously whether Sandra could be lying.

  “A doctor?” It was obvious from Sandra’s face that she had not considered this contingency. “I don’t need to see a doctor for ages yet.”

  “Maybe not, but I want this settled once and for all. If you’re telling the truth you have nothing to be afraid of.”

  Sandra burst into violent sobbing. “You’re against me! You’re all against me. Even Simon is against me, going away to Nottingham and never even bothering to write. I had to do something …” Her voice trailed away.

  Karen felt sick. It was pretty obvious now that Sandra had indeed been lying all the time. Madeline was speechless for a moment and then she said:

  “You bad, wicked girl! How dare you act like this! It nearly killed me, do you realize that?”

  “I love Simon, I love him, I love him!” cried Sandra, ignoring her mother. “Doesn’t anybody care?”

  “We all care what happens to you,” said Paul surprisingly. “Be thankful you really are all right. It could so easily have been true, couldn’t it?”

  “Yes. Simon knows that. That’s why …”

  “That’s why he was so panic-stricken,” finished Paul grimly. “All right, Sandra. You can calm down now.”

  He was unutterably relieved. For a moment there he had wondered if his hunch had been wrong. If it had he would have regretted his harsh words although they were all true.

  “You can’t get everything you want, simply by deceit and lies,” said Karen angrily. “Sandra, you sicken me, you really do! Have you no decent feelings for anyone but yourself?”

  Sandra did not reply and Karen lit two cigarettes, and after handing one to Paul she drew on hers thankfully. The crisis was past and now she felt dreadfully aware of the anti-climax.

  Sandra cried the rest of the way home. Her face was blotched and her eyes were puffy, but she was still as defiant as ever.

  Once at her mother’s house, they all went inside. Liza was waiting for them, but withdrew when she saw Sandra’s swollen features. Now was not the time for platitudes. Sandra flung her coat on to a chair in the hall and would have gone upstairs, but Paul caught her arm, his face grim.

  “I want a word with you, young woman,” he said firmly, “come on, in here.”

  He manoeuvred her into the sitting-room, closing the door firmly behind them, leaving Madeline and Karen in the hall. Madeline frowned and would have opened the door, but Karen shook her head, stopping her. Whatever Paul had to say to Sandra would be better said in private.

  In the sitting-room Sandra faced Paul with only a little of her former defiance. Her ruse to claim Simon utterly had failed miserably and she felt unaccountably relieved for some reason now that it was over. She had known all along, of course, that she was wrong, but that had not helped. If only her mother had not created such a cotton wool world around her she might have grown up more like Karen and thus would not have felt the need to break out and shock everybody. She supposed it was basically a sense of insecurity founded on her mother’s rather weak attempts at motherhood.

  She listened to Paul’s steadfast voice explaining how she had hurt her mother and caused anxiety to them all. He barely mentioned Simon, and she supposed he thought that Simon deserved the hours of purgatory he had spent. He was probably right. At the moment Simon seemed very different from the gay companion she had known and believed she had loved.

  Afterwards he let her go and she went upstairs to repair her make-up and make herself presentable. Paul met Karen in the hall.

  She smiled. “Thanks, for everything,” she murmured.

  “Don’t thank me,” he said softly. “Now, are you coming with me?”

  Karen hesitated. “Mother is still very upset,” she began.

  “All right,” Paul nodded. “How about later, then? We could have dinner.”

  Karen clasped her hands together. “I have to see Lewis at half-past seven, I’m afraid.”

  Paul’s expression hardened. “Indeed?” he muttered. “That’s that, then.”

  Karen shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry, Paul. But I never thought …”

  “Don’t worry,” he said coldly. “It wasn’t important.”

  Karen felt cold inside. “I have to go to the office,” she explained awkwardly. “But I don’t expect I shall be long.”

  Paul hesitated. He wanted to believe her.

  “All right,” he murmured, his eyes softening. “How about coming to the apartment after you leave Martin? We could have dinner there, if you like.”

  It couldn’t be true! Paul was actually asking her to go to his apartment!

  “That would be wonderful,” she whispered. Ruth could not possibly be bothering him now. But why? The prospect was breathtaking.

  “Good.” He bent his head swiftly and kissed her mouth, and then he was gone.

  Karen stood immobile. Could this be really true? Surely it was not a dream after all this time. She wanted it to be true. Oh, how she wanted it to be true.

  Things were at last beginning to make sense. Sandra was home and was no longer in any danger from Simon. In addition, if Karen should go back to Paul she would have the guiding hand from him that she so badly needed. Madeline would be pleased, of course for more mercenary reasons, but for Karen it was Paul himself that she wanted, now and always.

  She left her mother after having tea and sandwiches with her. Sandra had emerged from he
r room looking suitably chastened, and although Karen doubted whether Paul’s lecture would have any long-lasting effects she was undoubtedly prepared to be more amiable.

  Karen walked back to her flat, enjoying the feel of the cool night air on her face. It was a clear, starlit evening and she felt the old excitement welling up in her. Tonight she was to see Paul again and for no other reason than that he had asked her to. There would be no discussions about Sandra or Simon or Ruth. Only themselves and nothing else.

  She dressed in a dark red velvet dress and wore her loose mohair coat. She looked bright-eyed and sparkling but could not help it. She was happy! Happy as she had not been for years.

  The offices of Lewis Martin Textiles were in darkness apart from the one light at the top of the building where Lewis had his office. Karen felt her pleasure wilt slightly as she entered the building, and tentative fingers of apprehension probed her mind. Shrugging off the feeling, she took the lift up to his office. She knocked and entered to find Lewis sitting at his desk, doodling on a pad with a ball-point pen.

  She thought he looked edgy and tired and his usually well-dressed appearance was marred by the looseness of his collar and the ruffled untidiness of his hair. He seemed to have been running his hands through it often, and Karen wondered what was troubling him. He was definitely a disturbed man, and she felt rather uncomfortable in his presence.

  At her entrance he rose to his feet, his eyes sweeping her appearance with studied intensity.

  “Ah, Karen,” he murmured, a smile coming to his lips. “Won’t you sit down?”

  Karen subsided on to the low chair opposite him and looked expectantly at him. Lewis seated himself also and watched her as she lit a cigarette. To her annoyance her fingers were trembling, and Lewis noticed this.

  “Are you cold, Karen?” he asked.

  “No.” She repudiated the suggestion with a forced smile.

  “Nervous, then?” he murmured, his smile mocking.

  “Why should I be nervous of you, Lewis?” she asked, determined to retain a lightness in her manner.

  He shrugged. “Why, indeed? You know I only have your welfare at heart, don’t you, Karen? I’ve always been a good friend to you, haven’t I?”