Judith breathed more calmly. She read through Sheet 3 again and then went on to study the other sheets, before looking up, questions already forming on her lips.
When Luke looked at his watch and said: 'Time for lunch now,' she was amazed because she had long ago ceased to notice the passage of time; she barely recalled the arrival of the coffee or the two phone calls which had interrupted them as they talked. He saw her face and laughed. 'Lost track of the time? So did I until I started to feel hungry. We'll eat quickly in the directors' dining-room and come straight back to finish the discussion, shall we?' It was a rhetorical question; he had it planned that way and she meekly accepted it.
'Want to go to the cloakroom first?' he suggested, walking to the door. 'I'll join you in the lobby in two minutes.'
They were the only occupants of the small dining-room which, Luke told her, was only used occasionally. They had melon and then salad and cold meat followed by cheese and coffee. Judith felt nervous; she said very little now that they had stopped talking about work, it was the only subject which made her feel safe,
'Oh, I forgot,' said Luke, as they walked back to his office. 'I've got something for you.' He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a blue leather bound book and tossed it to her.
Catching it, Judith glanced at the title, her face puzzled, then smiled. 'Oh, Alice…'
'Don't forget to read it,' he said, swivelling in his chair with his hands linked behind his dark brown head. The rain had cleared, as predicted, and the sun was shining through the great plate glass windows lining the wall behind him. Her eyes were dazzled, she stared at Luke blindly, then her sight cleared and their eyes met and Judith felt her heart jump inside her, a physical sensation which left her breathless and shaken. Her skin began to burn and her mouth went dry.
My God, what's wrong with me? she thought. I'm not falling in love with him, am I? That would be crazy. I'd have to be a suitable case for psychiatric treatment if I let myself get infatuated with someone like Luke Doulton. No one had ever had that sort of effect on her before, she'd decided long ago that she wasn't the type who lost her head over a man, she had seen other girls trapped in an infatuation with someone they should have run from on first sight, and felt sorry for them; told herself that she had too much common sense. Her cherished common sense seemed to have deserted her now. Her heart kept taking queer little sideways leaps every time Luke smiled at her.
He was talking about work again and Judith pulled herself together. It was probably indigestion, she told herself firmly. That was all it was—indigestion. She must have eaten her lunch too fast.
CHAPTER SIX
DURING the days that followed Judith tried to convince herself that that flash of insight had been pure imagination. She kept a close watch on her feelings, monitoring them like a severe teacher ready to slap a pupil down the minute she showed signs of wandering attention. When Luke came into her office and she felt her nerves leap with fire she told herself it was irritation because he had broken her concentration, when he turned suddenly and smiled at her and she felt an unusual heat in her face she insisted on believing that it was pure embarrassment in case he so much as guessed what stupid ideas had been passing through her head. Not that she was quite sure how he would react if he did ever catch on—but she certainly wasn't going to risk it in any event. He might be amused, he might be embarrassed, either prospect appalled her.
From the first day they worked well together, though, that was a plus factor. It soon became obvious that they thought alike in many ways. Not only did she understand what Luke was planning before he so much as mentioned the subject, but she could anticipate where he would turn next and have the relevant papers easily to hand when he asked for them. She picked up little clues from things he said, background material he was looking at, but often it was simply that she knew instinctively what he was likely to do because in his place she would move in that direction. All the same, she had a lot to learn, and it helped to keep busy; she couldn't think much about Luke if she was racing through a pile of folders, trying to make sense of what they contained.
Doulton-Klein International was a complex web of interests stretching across the world. It took Judith most of that first week to discover exactly how far Luke's organisation stretched. Each evening she took home with her a vast pile of folders and worked on them after her evening meal. When Robert rang she had to excuse herself from meeting him for a while.
'I'd really love to see that film, but I'm up to my ears in work. Can I take a rain check?'
'All work and no play,' Robert said mildly.
'I know, and I'm sure it won't be long before I'm abreast of the job, but until then I've got to scramble to keep up with the day's meetings. I can't go in to talk to directors when I don't know what the hell they're burbling about, can I?'
'You sound irritable,' he commented.
'Sorry, just tired, it will wear off.'
'What about this weekend? Can't you take Saturday night off?'
'Saturday would be just fine, thanks.'
'I'll pick you up,' he offered, and she accepted gratefully. She went back to her paperwork feeling rather weary. Her eyes were beginning to blur from studying small print for hours and her brains were taking longer to assimilate the details of the papers she was reading. It was a rainy Thursday evening, she could hear the melancholy dripping of the eaves outside and the passing traffic swished on the wet roads, there was something vaguely depressing about everything, even her supper had tasted flavourless and dull.
Baba wasn't back from California yet. Judith had talked to Ruth on the phone the evening before; she had wanted to find out when Baba was returning, the sooner she was back and in visible possession of Luke the better Judith would feel.
'No, I haven't heard,' Ruth had said, however. 'Not so much as a postcard, but that doesn't surprise me. Baba never sends postcards. If she has any definite news she'll probably ring me.'
'If she gets the part, you mean?' Judith agreed with a sigh. She didn't wish Baba any harm, but she hoped she wouldn't get that part, otherwise she might be over there in California for months, and Judith wanted her back here with Luke. Having Baba around as a visible reminder that Luke belonged to her would make it easier to kill those stupid, senseless feelings which she was telling herself did not exist.
'Wouldn't it be wonderful if she did?' Ruth was excited at the very idea. 'You know, I've always felt certain that Baba was someone special.'
'What about Luke Doulton, though? Baba says he isn't going to like it.'
'I'm sure he'll be as proud as a peacock—after all, she'd be famous and if he loves her he'll be delighted for her.' It seemed so simple to Ruth, she projected her own attitudes on to other people and couldn't imagine that anyone might see things differently. Ruth was generous enough to be overjoyed by the possibility that her sister might become a famous film star; it didn't enter her head that Luke saw life from a different angle.
'Let me know if she gets the part, won't you?' said Judith, and Ruth laughed.
'You can bet I will, I'll be on the phone so fast I'll probably be incoherent!' She paused and asked; 'How's the job? Getting on okay with Luke? Is he difficult to work for?'
'We haven't actually come to blows yet,' Judith hedged, and a moment later rang off; she didn't want to say too much about Luke, you never knew what you were giving away when you talked to someone.
She put down her paperwork and went to the window, pulling back the curtain to watch the rain streaking down the glass. It matched her mood. She had often wondered what effect love really had on people; watching lovers from the outside one was often thrown back on the idea that it was all illusion, people looked for something outside themselves which might make their lives more bearable and they thought they had found it in another human being when all they had found was someone else to feel lonely with. Judith hadn't been able to imagine herself going crazy over another human being; she had thought herself too cool-headed, too independent,
she had told herself that she would never make the mistake of believing that someone else could change the whole world for you. Now she was beginning to find out what havoc love could wreak—and she was confused, disorientated, bewildered.
The more she told herself not to look at him so much the more her eyes wandered in his direction. She had stored up a million tiny pictures of him now: Luke standing at a window, looking out, as she was doing now. Luke talking as he walked around her office, his hands in his pockets; his dark brown hair almost brushing his collar as he bent forward to look at a letter she showed him: the quick, sideways flicker of his eyes if they passed in the corridor; the secret smile with which he silently commented to her on something said in a board meeting, the shape and texture of his hand as he held a door open for her—she felt she was memorising him. imprinting him on her brain patterns. When he came into the building one morning while she was waiting for the lift she didn't have to turn to check that it was him: her body had antennae which registered his presence anywhere, the sound of his footsteps on the marble floor was unmistakable.
The phone rang and she jumped, letting the curtain drop. While she was moving across the room she pulled herself together; really, her nerves were right out of control. She had to do something about it, and soon.
'Hallo?'
'Judith?' Luke sounded brisk, in a hurry.
Her heart jumped. 'Yes,' she said, trying to sound cool.
'I'm afraid I won't be able to be at the board meeting tomorrow. Sir Isaac Kalsterg is flying in first thing in the morning and he wants to talk to me. You'll have to sit in for me. Could you come round here for a quick briefing? I've got all the documents here.'
She swallowed, her lips dry. 'Yes, when?'
'Now,' he said, sounding surprised. 'Sorry to drag you out on a night like this—I'd come over there, but I'm expecting some urgent calls, I can't go out. It won't take long.' A smile entered his voice. 'You're always very quick to pick things up.'
'Thanks,' she said, her mouth compressing. 'I'll be there in a quarter of an hour.'
'See you,' he said, and rang off. Judith replaced her own phone slowly, her hand trembling, and stood there for a minute frowning at nothing, then hurried into the bedroom to get ready. She didn't have time to change; if Luke objected to her arriving in old jeans and a blue shirt that was his problem. She ran a comb through her hair, renewed her make-up and slipped on a short beige raincoat. Looking at herself in the mirror helped to restore her sense of perspective—the very ordinary girl looking back at her was no threat to Baba's happiness. Luke wasn't going to look twice at her. All the insanity was on her side; she almost convinced herself she felt sorry for the poor man. It must be a bore having women lose their heads over you, and she could be sure she wasn't the first. Look at the way Caroline Rendell had behaved at his engagement party! Luke had been tight-lipped with rage, and who could blame him? Whatever sort of relationship he had had with Caroline she had behaved appallingly; she must have been beside herself because he had rejected her in favour of Baba, and Judith felt a painful fellow feeling for Caroline now that she was so personally involved. It seemed ironic that she should have snarled at Luke because she saw him with Caroline at the nightclub that night only to go slightly crazy over him herself later.
She left the flat and drove away with rain washing down her windscreen and the wipers clacking uselessly back and forth, barely clearing the glass long enough for her to see the rear lights of the car in front of her. The streets were almost deserted; sensible people were not going out in this downpour, why hadn't she told Luke that she was already in bed asleep when he rang? Because you didn't think of it, you dummy, she told herself, slowing even further as she skidded around a corner on three wheels.
Luke lived in a palatial Nash house in a circular terrace in Regents Park. Judith had to drive past it to find a parking space and then run back with bent head and rapidly saturated clothes to the gate. She dived under the portico and rang the bell, shivering.
The door was opened by Luke in a cream and blue diamond-patterned sweater and cream pants. He looked at her with compunction. 'My God, you're wet! The rain must have got worse.'
'Can I drip inside? It's cold out here,' said Judith through her chattering teeth. He moved back and she scuttled inside. Luke removed her wet coat and she looked down at the damp mark she had left on his carpet. She didn't apologise; served him right.
'There's a bathroom on the left at the end of the hall, you'd better dry your hair,' Luke told her. 'I'm sorry to have dragged you out in this weather; I didn't realise how hard it was raining. Would you like some hot milk or coffee? Or a glass of whisky or brandy?'
'Coffee would be fine, thanks,' said Judith, following him down the hall. Her feet sank into the deep pile of the pastel blue carpet, she looked back and saw her tracks following them like the muddy pawprints of a dog. Luke glanced back too and laughed.
'Never mind them—one of the servants will deal with them in the morning.'
Judith gave him a dry smile; wasn't he lucky, then? She went into the bathroom he indicated and rubbed her lank hair vigorously; it looked even worse than usual afterwards. She combed it, but it still looked hung round her face like string. She took off her shoes and placed them near the radiator; they might dry out in half an hour.
As she left the bathroom in her damp jeans and bare feet Luke emerged from another door carrying a tray of coffee and two cups and saucers. Judith's brows rose and he looked quickly at her expression. 'Now what?' he asked warily.
'Did you make the coffee yourself?'
'Why shouldn't I? I make very good coffee.'
'What happened to all the servants? Don't tell me they're on strike.'
'Unless I'm expecting visitors I always give them the evening off—there's no point in them hanging around in the kitchen with nothing to do. I think they're probably still watching a war film on TV. They live upstairs.' He waved a hand vaguely. 'The top floor.'
'How many are there?'
'Full-time? Only two—a married couple. Joe's my chauffeur and his wife runs the house; she has several part-time women helpers, there's a lot to do.' He pushed open another door, balancing the tray on his hip and Judith followed him into a comfortable sitting-room. Luke put the tray down while she was looking around her at the smooth, ivory walls and pale green carpet, the rectangular couches facing each other with a squared black table between them, the floor-length olive green curtains shutting out the rainy night An enormous landscape painting hung on one wall: a shadowy oil-painting of some age whose high elms and green hills led the eye further and further into it to be lost in a misty perspective. Judith glanced at the other objects in the room, quickly noting a bronze urn, a noble and rather forbidding stone head, a lacquered cabinet of black and gold and several bowls of spring flowers whose scent was faint and poignant. On the table was laid out a chess game: beside it a pile of folders and a book open face down on the wood.
Luke looked over his shoulder at her: 'Come to the fire. Cream and sugar in your coffee?'
'No, black, no sugar, thanks.' Judith knelt by the fire, holding her hands to it. She was rather surprised to see it: it was ears since she had sat by a fire, in New York everything was centrally heated.
Luke moed. handed her the coffee. 'Here you are.'
His fingers touched her own; she kept her eyes down. 'Thank you.' To distract herself from his proximity she asked: 'Do you play chess with yourself?'
'When there's nobody else available. I play master games from books, trying to think out a way of beating the other man.' He sat down in a corner of one of the couches, nursing his cup. 'Do you play?'
'A little.'
'I thought you might.'
She looked at him, hearing the dry note in his voice, and he smiled at her. 'Anyone with a mind like yours would have to be a good chess player.'
'I didn't say I was good,' she pointed out.
'You didn't have to. I've seen you working on a problem; I'm sur
e you're a very formidable chess player.'
She curled round on the carpet, sipping her coffee with the fire heating one side of her face. It provided an excuse for the flush she could feel. 'I'd better hear what I'm to say at the board meeting tomorrow,' she reminded him, and he nodded, one hand tapping the folders on the table.
'I've got all the details in here, but I'd better run through it with you.' He began to talk and she listened, drinking her coffee. On the table a small lyre clock chimed musically; Judith looked at it in surprise. Half past ten. She had been here for half an hour; the time had flown. Luke looked at the clock too.
'It's getting late. I think I've given you the gist of my views, anyway. If you run into any real trouble shelve it and I'll talk to them later, but I doubt if there'll be any problems. I'm sure I can trust you to deal with it.'
She tried not to smile; it was stupid to be so delighted by his compliment, but she couldn't help it.
Luke rose, but before she could get up too he was beside her, touching her hair lightly with one hand. She stiffened.
'It's dry now,' he said. 'You looked as if you'd just been pulled out of a river when you arrived.' He was still stroking her hair and she pulled her head back without being too obvious about it, getting up at the same time. She shot him a wary look and found him scaring at her; a strange expression in his grey eyes, she wasn't sure what to call it. Hesitation, uncertainty, surprise…Judith looked away before she could be sure.
'Do you still see Robert Gordon?' Luke asked.
'Yes, frequently, why?' Her mind was still half running on business; she did not expect his reply when it came.
'Are you in love with him?'
'What?' Judith's head lifted and she stared at him, open-mouthed. A slow flush crawled up her face. That's a very personal question; if I was it would be no affair of yours.'
He didn't argue the point. He asked instead in the same thoughtful, considering tone: 'Have you ever been in love?'
Judith fizzed with annoyance. 'The same answer applies—what is this? Why the interest in my private life?'
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