Infatuation

by Charlotte Lamb

  'I'm not involved,' she said with great restraint. 'It isn't my problem, it's yours. Don't drag me into it.' She wanted to yell: you phoney! at her. She had been taken in by Baba's sweet good nature and sunny smile for years, and now she saw a new Baba, a girl who was ditching the man she claimed she loved because she preferred her career. When Baba first told her that she was keeping the chance of a part in a film from Luke, Judith had been surprised, now she saw that it was part and parcel of the whole thing. Baba liked life smooth and knot-free; when she ran up against a knot she just went round it any way she could and if she had to lie, or break an engagement, in the process—well, that was tough, but she did it with a smile and a sigh and a pleading look in those big blue eyes. Baba used her yielding look of femininity with ruthless awareness of what it could do, why hadn't she seen that before? Because Baba hadn't operated in quite that way when she was around until now? If Judith had ever known any of Baba's ex-boyfriends she might have seen a very different image, she suspected. She had often wondered about the way Baba's men came and went with such rapidity; Baba had usually explained to Ruth that their intentions were not precisely honourable, but maybe that had not been the whole truth. Maybe it had been Baba whose intentions were suspect.

  'I've been trying to get up the nerve to tell him all the way down here,' Baba confided. 'Luke can be a bit scarey, you know, Judith. I'm not sure how he'll react; what shall I say to him?'

  'I'm sure you'll think of something,' Judith said drily.

  'I'm only being practical,' Baba protested, picking up the hint of criticism Judith could not quite suppress. 'If I went through with the wedding I'd hardly see him for months. That's no way to start a marriage.'

  'I don't know why you're telling me—tell Luke. Or do you need a rehearsal?'

  Baba looked at her, open-eyed in shocked surprise. 'Judith! That's not very kind. You sound quite nasty.'

  'Do I? Gracious, sorry,' said Judith, getting up. 'I'll go and join the others. Shall I send Luke to you?'

  As she got up, Baba caught at her hand, her golden head flung back and her mouth quivering. It was, Judith thought, a rather hammy performance. 'Oh, Judith, I can't bear to tell him, he'll be so angry and hurt—I thought . . . couldn't you . . .'

  'No, I damned well couldn't!' Judith snapped furiously, and walked out before she really lost her temper. She had been putting herself through hell because of a misguided sense of loyalty to Baba, and all the time Baba had been having a terrific time in Hollywood and had come back determined to jilt Luke anyway. Judith had a dark suspicion that she had met someone else over there; she had caught a secretive, complacent smile now and then which looked very much like the smile a woman gives, thinking about a man.

  She found Luke on the drive, his back to her, his hands in his tweed jacket pockets as he watched a magpie flap across the clear summer sky.

  'One for sorrow,' Judith thought aloud, and he half turned to look at her, his mouth wry.

  'There's another one over there in the elm—I think they're nesting here.'

  'Two for joy, then,' Judith said lightly. 'Baba wants you.' As she heard how she had phrased it she wished she could recall the sentence. Baba did not want him, but Judith did, but she would have died rather than let Baba see that.

  Luke's mouth compressed, he nodded, turning towards the house. Judith walked towards the low box hedges surrounding neat flower beds; she saw her grandmother pushing Mrs Doulton's wheelchair towards one of the yew bushes trimmed into peacocks. At close quarters the tail looked a little ragged. Judith heard the two women laughing at it.

  'More like a chicken,' Mrs Murry observed.

  'I've never like peacocks, anyway—vain, hysterical birds and very bad-tempered,' Mrs Doulton agreed.

  They looked round as Judith joined them. 'I'm afraid we ought to be going soon,' Judith said.

  'Must you? I have enjoyed this afternoon,' said Mrs Doulton. 'It's the first time I've been out of the house for months—how lucky that the weather was so good.'

  They walked back to the house slowly and Fanny helped to wheel Mrs Doulton inside, her expression gloomy. 'I hope you haven't caught a chill out there. You should have worn something warmer than that jacket. You ought to have had a blanket around you.'

  'Don't fuss!' Mrs Doulton protested.

  'We must go,' Judith insisted and her grandmother put on the jacket Fanny brought to her.

  'Fetch Luke,' Mrs Doulton suggested, and Judith said quickly that he was talking to Baba and there was no need to disturb them, she would be seeing him in the office next day anyway.

  ‘Don't forget that root,' Mrs Doulton told Mrs Murry. ‘Judith must bring you down again soon.'

  Judith couldn't wait to get away; she wondered how Luke was taking Baba's news. He had said he wanted to get out of the engagement, but he was a very masculine man, how would his ego react to discovering that Baba was jilting him, rather than the other way around? As she drove back to London her mind dwelt continually on Luke's reactions; it was stupid to speculate without knowing what Baba was actually telling him. Judith was afraid to be too happy, she couldn't quite believe that Luke was going to be free so easily, but she could not have borne to wait to see his face afterwards. She was afraid. Now that he had seen Baba again, been reminded of how beautiful she was, been able to see Judith next to her and be forcibly made aware that Judith was very far from beautiful—how would he feel on being immediately told that Baba did not want to marry him?

  After all, he had chosen Baba in the first place because of her beauty. In spite of having told Judith that he loved her and didn't care whether she was attractive or not, she couldn't feel over-confident about Luke's feelings. While Baba was out of sight she had believed he loved her. Now that Baba was back she had painful doubts again; about herself, about Luke. Baba had always been able to make Judith feel very plain. She could remember as a teenager standing in Ruth's bedroom listening to Baba as she looked into the mirror with a happy smile. 'How do I look, Judith? Do you think this colour suits me? Is my hair okay?' Baba had always asked you questions to which she knew the answer, she only asked because she enjoyed hearing you tell her she looked fantastic. Judith had avoided the mirror; she did not want Baba to look at her and then say very kindly: 'That isn't quite your colour, that's all, Judith. What a pity you're so skinny, you've hardly got a bust at all, but never mind, nobody will notice. They will be looking at me!' Baba's face had added silently.

  Baba hadn't been spiteful, her sweetness had been false, that was all. She had always been looking into mirrors, enjoying the image of herself they gave her back. No doubt she would be perfectly at home in the mirror world of the cinema.

  Judith dropped her grandmother and then drove on to her flat. It was almost six-thirty and there was nothing on television but the news and the religious programmes following it. She tad a bath at seven, got herself a boiled egg and some toast and settled down to read a fat paperback which she had had around for weeks without opening. She was pampering herself tonight; for weeks she had been working flat out and she deserved some relaxation. By eight o'clock it was almost dark. She switched on the lights and drew the curtains, curling up on a couch with the book and a pillow behind her head. She would go to bed early; in an hour, probably.

  The book was printed on yellowish paper which made it hard to read, the print was far too small, there were too many pages. Judith's mind kept straying back to Luke. Was the engagement over now? Was he free? Or had he talked Baba out of jilting him? Given the choice between herself and a girl like Baba, what man could prefer her? Perhaps he had realised as soon as he saw Baba again that what he had thought he felt for Judith had been merely infatuation. They had been flung together during the past month, Baba had been out of sight, Luke might have drifted into imagining that he was in love.

  She looked at her watch; she couldn't go to bed yet. The book was boring her to tears but she went on reading it. it was better than sitting there thinking about Luke all the time. She lif
ted her head, listening to the silence. What are you waiting for? she asked herself irritably. He won't come.

  That was what she was waiting for—for Luke. If Baba had set him free and he really loved her, he would come to her.

  If he didn't come, he didn't love her after all. She forced herself back to her book. She wouldn't think about that yet. Time enough when she knew that Luke had chosen Baba. There would be plenty of time in the future for her to cry then; she wasn't running to meet the anguish which that realisation would bring. She was waiting. She looked at her watch again. Ten minutes had passed. It felt like ten years. She almost went to the mirror to look for grey hairs, she felt as though she must have acquired some

  Her intelligence said: you could have fought for him. You could have given Baba the approval she wanted, told her you didn't blame her, advised her to go after a career and forget Luke. She closed her eyes. If she had agreed to tell Luke what Baba wanted her to tell him she could have got Luke on the rebound there and then. She had walked away and made Baba do her own dirty work, and maybe that had been a fatal mistake because you could never guess what will happen between two people, especially when sex is mixed up in it.

  But she knew she couldn't have acted any other way, her own integrity wouldn't have permitted it. The very fact that she had been sick with happiness at the news that Baba didn't want to marry Luke after all had made it obvious that she must stay out of it. It had been between Luke and Baba and none of her business. They had made that engagement, they must unmake it.

  She put down her book and went slowly into the kitchen to make herself some coffee. It was nearly ten o'clock. Luke hadn't come, he wasn't going to come, and she could feel the remorseless tread of pain coming nearer as she waited and realised that she had lost.

  The doorbell rang and her whole body jerked in shock. She slowly put down the cup of coffee, slowly walked to the door. It could be a neighbour asking to borrow a cup of sugar, or a policeman telling her that she had parked without leaving on her lights. She coolly warned herself of disappointment before she opened the door.

  Luke walked in and looked down at her; his grey eyes were brilliant in the dim light of the little hall. Judith closed the door and stood there, trembling. She couldn't say a thing.

  'You know. She said she'd told you,' Luke said.

  Judith swallowed, she was still waiting, she could not believe that she was going to be so happy, it did not seem possible.

  'Why did you run away like that; then?' Luke demanded harshly, staring down at her, so close that she could see the little golden flecks ringing the iris of his eyes.

  'I wasn't running away, I was driving my grandmother home.'

  'You must have known I'd come to look for you after I'd talked to Baba.'

  'I didn't know what you'd do,' said Judith, and his grey eyes flashed with sudden anger.

  'You didn't know?' There was violence in his face, she thought for a second he was going to hit her, then he turned and walked into the sitting-room and she followed slowly. He sat down on the couch, his body tense. Judith stood there, uneasily watching him.

  'I love you, ' he said to his shoes. 'But I sometimes wonder why. I can never quite work out your reasons for doing anything. You knew I didn't want to marry Baba. You knew I was in love with you. From the minute she arrived today I've been trying to tell her I couldn't marry her, that I'd made a terrible mistake— when she told me first I was speechless. I had a hard time not grinning from ear to ear. But I managed to be polite and say I didn't blame her, she was probably going to be another Marilyn Monroe and I wished her all the luck in the world. Then I went to look for you, but you'd gone and I couldn't work out why. So I drove Baba home and said goodbye and told her to keep the ring, which she was quite happy to do.' Judith caught the glint of derision with which he said that. Was he secretly angry with Baba? 'I thought of coming straight here, but I needed to think out why you'd rushed off without even saying goodbye, so I went and had a few drinks,' he said.

  'Oh, did you?' Judith said warily; was that what made his eyes so brilliant?

  He looked up then. 'I'm not drunk,' he said with aggression.

  'I didn't think you were.'

  'You sounded as though you did. Why did you go, Judith? Why?'

  'I wanted to leave you room,' she said, remembering what his mother had said to her and her grandmother earlier that day. 'You don't have to feel obliged to . . .'

  'Shut up!' Luke muttered explosively. He lunged forward and grabbed her wrist, jerked her across his lap and kissed her with passion and a reined ferocity. Her mouth trembled for a second at the heat and fury in the kiss, then she let her arms go round his neck and kissed him back softly, her lips parting to admit him.

  He lifted his head later, breathing sharply. 'I've been dying to kiss you for days, you know that; it's been torture not touching you—how could you do that to us, Judith? Seeing you every day, having to keep my distance—it was more than flesh and blood could stand. I haven't been sleeping; when I did manage to get to sleep I dreamed about you. I've been so frustrated it's a wonder I've managed to stay sane.'

  'I couldn't steal you from Baba,' she explained, her fingertips caressing the smooth brown skin of his throat. She undid his tie while he watched, one brow arching slightly in silent comment. Judith dropped the tie to the floor and began to undo his shirt.

  'I thought I was going to have a hell of a scene on my hands when I told her,' said Luke, shrugging out of his jacket. It wasn't easy with Judith on his lap, it made her laugh and he looked at her with lighthearted amusement.

  'I hope you never regret it after she's become a sex symbol for the eighties,' said Judith, her palm sliding down the muscular line of his chest.

  'I'll be able to boast that I was the one who got away,' smiled Luke, tugging her shirt out of her waistband.

  'Don't tear that, it's pure silk,' Judith protested, and slid out of the shirt before he damaged it.

  Luke looked down at her slender body in the lemon silk slip, she heard him breathing with shallow irregularity. 'I've been waiting to get you into bed for what seems years.' His cool fingers slowly pulled down the straps on the slip and then he undid her bra with what she felt was far too practised a technique.

  'You've done this before,' she reproached.

  'Have you?' He bent his head and she took a fierce breath as his lips brushed lightly over the nipple of one breast. 'Judith . . .' She felt his hands moving over her warm skin and a soft cry broke out of her at the pleasure of what he was doing. Heat was growing inside her, inside both of them, and she watched him with intense passion as he lifted his head. His face was darkly flushed; she felt like someone who has been struggling with a heavy load up a hill and then suddenly finds herself after a bitter time, running down hill unable to stop. 'This isn't where we should be,' whispered Luke, and he shifted her sideways and got up. He picked her up and walked towards the bedroom.

  'I love you,' Judith whispered, her face half buried in his neck where his blood beat fiercely under the warm skin. 'I wish I was beautiful for you . . .'

  'I've never seen anything so beautiful in my life,' said Luke as he put her down on the bed, and as his body came down to join her she arched to meet it.