In many ways she regretted the sudden break in her career. She had enjoyed working in New York; she liked the people she worked with, was fascinated by the job she did and loved the city itself. If it had not been for her grandfather's death she wouldn't have thought of coming back.
She couldn't discuss any of this with Mrs Murry, who would merely urge her to go back to New York. In spite of her grandmother's protests Judith suspected that Mrs Murry was relieved to have her back home; she simply did not want to admit it, she did not want to feel she was pushing Judith into staying. Mrs Murry was prickly and independent, but Judith wanted to be on hand whenever her grandmother needed her. When she was a child, her grandmother had always been there when Judith needed her.
Judith's father had died when she was six and his wife and child had gone to live with his parents. Her mother had got a job and left Judith with Mrs Murry during the day. When Judith was fourteen her mother had married again. Judith had never liked her stepfather much; he wasn't unkind to her, merely indifferent, especially after her mother had given birth to his two sons. He had taken them all to America and Judith had felt an outsider in the little family. She had worked hard at school to compensate for her increasing isolation at home, too worried and miserable to make many friends, she had grown increasingly homesick, too. She longed for her grandparents, for London and everything she had grown up with, and as soon as she had left school she had come back to live with her grandparents, getting a job in a London bank. At the time it had been the only offer made to her, she hadn't intended at that stage to make a career in banking, but when she was twenty-three her boss had been transferred to the New York office and had asked Judith to go with him. She had decided it would be good for her career to accept and had rapidly risen in the firm, moving up whenever her boss did. She would miss John Atkins; there had never been any romantic tinge to their relationship, but they had been firm friends and trusted each other. John wasn't the marrying kind; he was too set on becoming a very big wheel in international banking.
'You can't be serious! You're throwing away a marvelous career!' he had protested when she resigned, and she had known he was right, but some things were more important than careers. Whatever her grandmother pretended, her life was going to be very lonely now and Judith was not going to leave her in London without a relative in the world.
The bus pulled up with a jerk and she suddenly realised she had reached her destination, so she leapt up and sprinted to the stairs, taking them two at a time.
'Hey, miss, you can't jump off when we're going!' The bus conductor swung towards her and she grinned at him as she jumped. She landed lightly and waved, and he scowled back at her, his cap tilted back on his head.
The only friend from her schooldays with whom she had kept in touch had been a girl whose parents lived across the road from the Murry house. Ruth had got married when she was twenty-one and Judith had been one of her bridesmaids. The other had been Ruth's younger sister, Barbara. They had hardly been a matching pair. Judith had looked gloomily at Barbara as they both stood in front of the mirror on that wedding morning. She had been tempted to refuse to go through with it; people would smile behind their hands as she and Baba walked behind Ruth.
Judith was slightly built, fine-boned, sallow-skinned and straight-haired; with slanting dark eyes which mostly looked down because at that age she was very shy, a mouth which was slightly too large and a small, snub nose. Her figure was like a boy's; breasts tiny, hips narrow, legs skinny. She was grateful if she passed unnoticed; it had made her face burn to hear people say: she's so plain! Neither Ruth nor Barbara were ever called plain. Ruth was small and cuddly and curly-haired and had a smile like the sun rising. She was kind and warm and cheerful, from the age of fourteen she had boys queueing up to take her out, and her confidence attracted people while Judith's shyness made them avoid her. Judith did not mind the fact that Ruth was so popular because Ruth was her best friend and she was fond of her, but Barbara was another kettle of fish Barbara was beautiful. In Ruth's company, Judith was never aware of her own appearance—when she was with Barbara, she felt plain.
Not that Baba went out of her way to stress the difference between them. Baba wasn't malicious, there wasn't a spiteful bone in her body, it wasn't her fault dial she was so ravishing that people stared and gasped when she walked past. She had great soft masses of honey-blonde curls, wide-open baby blue eyes and a perfectly shaped pink mouth. Her figure was all curves; full, high breasts, a small waist, smoothly rounded hips and long, shapely legs. When she was a little girl, Ruth used to call her Shirley Temple, and in many ways that was exactly her image; sunny-tempered and sweet-natured and full of vitality. Baba was amazingly old-fashioned, too. Any man who took her out imagining that he would get her into bed soon discovered his mistake, and retired with a slapped face. Her parents adored her, she should have been totally spoilt, but she had grown up without altering very much. At twenty-one she was almost the same girl she had been at twelve, in spite of having been a fashion model for three years. In every way, Baba was amazing, but she still made Judith feel plain.
That was precisely how she felt now as Baba opened the front door of Ruth's house; her figure tightly encased in white jeans and a silky black top with a very low neckline. Giving Judith a glowing smile, she said: 'Hallo, how are you? Ages since I saw you—you look wonderful, so brown!'
'You look fabulous yourself,' said Judith with rather more honesty. She had not seen Baba since she got back from the States. Ruth had come to her grandfather's funeral and they had talked for a while afterwards. When Judith got back from settling her affairs in New York, she had rung Ruth and been invited over for lunch, but Ruth had not mentioned that Baba would be there.
'Come on in; everyone's in the garden,' said Baba, and swayed off along the narrow hall on ludicrously high heels. 'I'm sorry about your grandfather; he was a darling, I was very fond of him. How's your grandmother bearing up?'
'She misses him, but she won't show it.' Judith sometimes wished her grandmother was not quite so independent, but she admired her for her strength of will. 'Are you having lunch with us, Baba? How's the modelling going? Still very successful?' She had seen a woman's magazine cover from which Baba's face stared out only that morning, so obviously Baba's career was still rising.
'Oh, there's lots to tell,' Baba said, and threw her another of those too-beautiful smiles; they never quite seemed real, any more than Baba did, anything approaching perfection is somehow uncomfortable. Judith had often wished she could dislike Baba, it would make it easier to bear those amazing looks, but Baba had persistently refused to do or say anything to make it possible, which, in itself, was maddening.
'I might be going to make a film,' Baba told her.
'Good heavens,' Judith murmured, wishing she could sound more incredulous and awed but hardly even surprised. The only thing which would really amaze her about Baba was if she ran off with the milkman or went bald. Good luck was something which had rained relentlessly into Baba's lap, for as long as Judith had known her.
'In Hollywood,' Baba added.
'Where else?' Judith said almost wearily. 'What sort of film is it?'
'It's about a model—it's that book, you know, the best-seller everyone was reading last year. It isn't settled yet; we're waiting to hear if I've got the part. The director has been auditioning hundreds of girls, but my agent says he's very keen on me.' Baba halted on the little patio at the back of the house and gave a deep sigh, giving Judith one of her wide-eyed looks. 'But even if they offer it to me I don't know if I could bear to go. '
Ruth had got up from the lounger on which she had been sunbathing, taking off her sunglasses and dropping them on to the book beside the goldfish pool. She came over to hug Judith warmly. 'You're looking better than you did at the funeral. How's Mrs Murry? Why didn't you bring her with you? I was expecting her. '
'She isn't up to talking to people yet, but she sent you a message—her love and she hopes you'll come
over soon and bring the children.' Judith glanced towards them and smiled. They were perched on the rim of the goldfish pond, dragging shrimping nets through the lily leaves. 'I don't recognise them!' she said, and Ruth laughed.
'Of course you don't—when you were home last, Stevie was in his pram and Julie was just starting to walk.' Ruth pulled the nearest child down and swivelled her to face Judith. 'Say hello to Auntie Judith.'
Julie stared, her thumb going into her mouth. Ruth pulled it out. Julie went on staring and didn't say anything. Ruth lifted the little boy down but could not persuade him to relinquish his net which he trailed thoughtfully across Judith's feet, leaving a fragment of green weed on her shoe. 'Little beast,' Ruth congratulated him. 'They do talk, although you might not beliee it. In a couple of hours you'll wish they didn't!'
'That sun's quite hot, isn't it?' observed Baba, unzipping her jeans. Judith watched in surprise as Baba pulled off her clothes, under which, it turned out, she was wearing a skimpy bikini. Her skin had the perfect lustre of polished gold. She lay down gracefully on one of the loungers and closed her eyes. Stevie went over to stare at her.
'Come and help me get the lunch,' Ruth said to Judith. 'Salad, I thought; okay?'
'Fine,' said Judith, watching Stevie as he dipped his net in the pool and then delicately sprinkled Baba with water. Without opening her eyes, Baba said: 'Don't do that, Stevie, there's a good boy.'
'If you can't behave yourself with those nets I'll have to lock them away,' Ruth told her offspring, who retreated to the far side of the pool and started fishing for lily pads again.
Judith followed Ruth back into the house. Ruth had put on weight, she was rounder and more curvy than she had been, and she had cut her hair short without persuading it to uncurl so that her head was covered with tight, fat little coils of goldy brown.
'Marriage appears to agree with you—how's David?' Judith asked her.
Ruth smiled. 'He's fine; still very busy at the agency.' David ran an estate agent's office in Hampstead and was very successful at it, judging by the elegant little house he had acquired for his family. He was nearly ten years older than Ruth, a quiet, thoughtful man with a thin, wiry figure and dark brown hair.
'Did Baba tell you her news?' asked Ruth as she got a large bowl of prepared salad out of the fridge.
'About the possible film? Yes, she was just telling me…'
'Oh, not that,' said Ruth. 'Her engagement.' Judith had begun making the dressing for the salad; she stopped, mid-whisk, to stare. 'Engagement? She never breathed a word—when did this happen? Who is he? '
Ruth laughed. 'Don't let that curdle, will you?'
'Sorry,' said Judith, smiling back and concentrated on her whisking. Ruth was working at her elbow, slicing hard-boiled eggs and dicing cheese, her movements swift and efficient, but talking quickly as she worked.
'It isn't official yet, they haven't bought the ring, they're going to do that this afternoon and it will be announced in The Times tomorrow.'
'The lucky man has money, I gather,' Judith said drily, and Ruth gave her a sideways look.
'That must be the understatement of the year! Guess who she's marrying; you may well know him—I bet you know him, his name has got to be familiar to you, of all people.'
Judith's fine dark brows lifted. 'How intriguing—I don't know that many rich men except clients in New York . . .' Her voice broke off as Ruth smiled. 'He's American?'
'Uh-huh.'
'Heavens! Even so, that still leaves the field wide open—you're going to have to tell me, we could go on playing guessing games all night.'
'Spoilsport,' Ruth laughed, then paused. 'Luke Doulton!' Her voice held a ring of what was undoubtedly triumph and glee in what she expected Judith's reaction to be—and she was not disappointed. Judith looked at her in stunned amazement.
'The Luke Doulton?'
'Is there more than one?'
'You mean the Luke Doulton who runs Doulton-Klein International?' Judith couldn't believe her ears. She had long ago given up hope that Baba would do am thing to surprise her, anything had always seemed possible with someone as lucky and beautiful as Baba, but now, at last, Baba had succeeded. The last man in the world Judith would ever have imagined falling for Baba was Luke Doulton. It didn't surprise, of course, that he had entered Baba's life; he had entered the lives of a great many beautiful girls, if rumour was to be believed, and exited again with only a very brief stop in between. Baba was a well-known international model who liked jet-set life; sooner or later she had been bound to run into Luke Doulton, and with his reputation it must have been on the cards that he would date her for a while—but that he might actually ask her to marry him was a possibility on which no sane bookmaker interested in staying in business would have taken a bet.
'Shut your mouth, love, you look daft,' said Ruth, laughing.
'I'm stunned!'
'You look it. Do you know him? I wondered if you might have met him in New York. Baba said she mentioned you to him but he didn't know your name.'
'No, he wouldn't,' Judith said drily. He might have done if he had allowed John to finish introducing her, but she had been beneath the level at which he noticed people. 'Men like Luke Doulton don't hobnob with ordinary bank staff,' she told Ruth. 'How did Baba meet him?'
'At a party in Hawaii, of all places. Baba was modelling over there and someone introduced them. Apparently it was love at first sight; isn't it romantic? It was a whirlwind romance; he followed her to New York and proposed. They've only known each other a month.' Ruth laughed excitedly, washing her hands at the sink as she talked. 'I can hardly believe it myself, but Baba's taking it very calmly. He's terribly rich, you know.'
'Yes.' said Judith. 'That's a very slippery fish Baba has caught; hundreds of others have tried to net him and failed.’ How odd that Baba hadn't mentioned her engagement, she thought. She had burst out with the news about the possible film but hadn't breathed a word about Luke Doulton—but then perhaps she thought Judith already knew about it?
Ruth looked worried as she started loading a tray with the food. 'You don't think he isn't serious? Oh, dear. Baba would be so upset. When we were kids I ones used to wish she would do something nasty—just to prove she was human, you know. I'd pull her hair or pinch her. I thought she'd run and tell tales, but she never did—she used to go and cry in a corner and make me ashamed of myself. It was maddening!'
'Poor Ruth,' said Judith, amused. 'She must have been a drag to live with.'
'She was—I've felt terribly sorry for Cinderella's elder sisters ever since.' Ruth walked to the door with one tray and Judith followed with the other, smiling.
Baba was still lying on the lounger, the sunlight turning her hair to drifting clouds of gold, making her perfectly proportioned body shimmer; she was so totally relaxed that you felt her head must be quite empty.
'Food,' Ruth said decisively. Baba sat up and the children swarmed around the table complaining about the food.
'Ugh, rabbits' food,' groaned Stevie as he crammed his mouth, and his mother said sharply: 'Don't put so much in your mouth, you already look like a hamster.'
'Ruth told me about your engagement,' Judith said to Baba. 'I hope you'll be very happy.'
Baba gave her a glowing smile. 'Oh, thank you, Judith; you are sweet. What are you going to do now that you're back in London? Have you got another job yet?'
'I'm looking around,' Judith said evasively.
'Will you live with your grandmother?'
'She's far too independent, to want me around all day. I'm looking for a flat within easy reach of her house.' She picked up a small square of cheese and studied it wryly. 'Not much to ask, really—a good job and a flat.'
Baba laughed and said: 'You must come to our engagement party; Luke's in banking, too. We're getting engaged today, he's coming to pick me up at three and take me to choose a ring. Luke's planning a big party at the Savoy, there'll be masses of people there, I'll get Luke to introduce you to some useful peop
le in banking, you might be offered a new job.'
'Thank you,' said Judith with what she considered extreme restraint. Along with a number of other characteristics she had inherited her grandmother's prickly independence and dislike of being patronised or offered pity; she felt, in any case, that she was in no need of either from Baba. While she was in New York she had had plenty of boy-friends; she just hadn't felt she couldn't live without any of them. They were all nice, she enjoyed their company, but none of them had touched her heart. Several times she had thought briefly: this is it, this is him, but it never had been, it had only been a momentary impulse, a romantic glow brought on by moonlight, one glass of champagne too many or her own dreamy desire to be swept off her feet. The next second she would notice that his ears were too big or he only talked about profit and loss or that he was quite obviously the biggest bore in Manhattan, which explained why, looking like a younger version of Robert Redford, he was still running around loose. Judith had a private theory that when love did come it would be because in spite of all such drawbacks the guy in question would be for some reason totally irresistible and someone you could happily face at breakfast for thirty years. Until such a man appeared on the horizon she refused to compromise or accept anything less.
Baba studied her thoughtfully. 'Luke knows simply everybody, I'll have a word with him about you.'
'Please don't,' Judith said tersely; remembering all too vividly the last time she had met him.
'It's no bother.' Baba gave her a ravishing smile, band to her irritation.
Judith decided not to get into a long wrangle about a, no doubt Baba would soon find out that the formidable Luke Doulton, however crazy about her at the moment, was not going to take on unknown females just to please her. He would probably say: tell this friend to get in touch with me. Then Judith could safely ignore the whole thing. One thing was certain—no way was she going to allow herself to be put in such an invidious position, nobody would ever believe she had any ability if her job was handed to her on a plate by Luke Doulton's future wife. She would never live it down. Everyone she worked with would watch her suspiciously, waiting for her to betray her inadequacy. She couldn't blame them, either. After all, if she was good enough why shouldn't she get a job purely on her own merits? That was how everyone would see it and, m their position, so would she.
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