Across the Counter

by Mary Burchell

  Then he restarted the car and they drove on—in silence, since he seemed to think everything had been said and Katherine could not find any words, either.

  They were almost home when she spoke again. Then, rather to her own surprise, what she said was, “Paul, were you ever engaged before?”

  “No.”

  “Not even unofficially? By ... by implication, as it were.”

  “If you’re thinking of my father’s insufferable planning and interference—no. I never agreed to any of it. Nor, so far as I know, did my conduct suggest I agreed.”

  “Thank you. I ... I just wanted to be sure I wasn’t inflicting on someone else the same horrible experience I had myself.”

  “I see. You’re a good child,” he said briefly. And then, somewhat unexpectedly, “Much too good for me, I suppose.”

  “Oh, no!” She smiled faintly at last. “Stop polishing my halo. It makes me feel uncomfortable.”

  That made him laugh, and they arrived back at the Fallodens’ house apparently in excellent spirits.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow at the store,” he said.

  “But in rather different circumstances,” she reminded him quickly. “We must preserve some sort of business relationship.”

  “I won’t start kissing you on the main staircase, if that’s what you mean,” he said with a laugh.

  She had meant a good deal more than that, of course. But she felt unable to enter into any further discussion. So she bade him good-night—accepting his light kiss for appearances’ sake, she told herself—and went into the house.

  To her relief, neither Jane nor her mother showed undue curiosity about the day’s events. And in any case—what would there have been to tell them? From their point of view, nothing would have changed. They were not to know that the engagement that had excited their interest last night and that morning had only now threatened to become an actual fact.

  Not that I would even consider making it real, Katherine told herself in the privacy of her own room. I wish I’d been more emphatic about that. I was still too much under the influence of the family’s approval. So was he, I daresay. Probably he’ll be quite relieved when he finds I have no intention of taking him seriously-

  But although she repeated that to herself with emphasis she was not entirely convinced.

  The next morning she set out for the store with a good deal of secret trepidation, which she tried to conceal from Jane, who accompanied her. And when she entered the Separates Department—it was already renamed thus in her own mind—she guessed that she had a difficult day ahead of her.

  At first she had little to contend with but the curious glances of the junior staff. But presently Aileen Lester arrived—a little late, as though challenging anyone to dispute her right to behave exactly as she liked—and Katherine was aware that the storm clouds entered with her.

  She briefly returned Katherine’s “Good morning.” Then she addressed herself to her own affairs, and Katherine was left wondering when the storm would actually break.

  It came with their morning coffee, which was usually brought to them in the small office behind the department. Katherine’s cup had just been set before her by an admiring junior who had ventured to breathe, “Congratulations, if I may say so, Miss Renner,” when Aileen came in carrying her coffee.

  She shut the door with brisk finality behind the retreating junior. Then she set down her cup and saucer and said in that cool, flat voice of hers, “I think you and I are going to have to have a talk.”

  “About the work?” inquired Katherine, stirring her coffee with an air of composure she was far from feeling.

  “No, of course not. About Paul Kendale.”

  “I don’t know that I want to discuss Paul with you or anyone else,” Katherine said quietly. “One doesn’t discuss one’s fiancé, even with—”

  “One’s fiancé!” The other girl repeated the term scornfully. “You needn’t pretend with me. Whoever else was deceived by that comedy, you and I know perfectly well that until his father started that announcement Paul had no more idea of marrying you than ... than that little idiot who’s just brought in your coffee.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Katherine coldly. “I’m not prepared to accept that statement, and you’re certainly in no position to make it.”

  “I’m in a much better position to tell you about the Kendale family than you are to tell me,” retorted Aileen almost violently. “Why, a week ago you hardly knew they existed. I’ve known them all my life. And for the last three years I’ve been the girl Paul was to marry.”

  Katherine looked at the pale, angry face opposite her and again found it in her heart to be sorry for Aileen Lester, however unlikable she might be, and however unscrupulously she might have bolstered up her hopes.

  “Aileen,” she said, because it seemed ridiculous to go on calling her “Miss Lester” when the situation was stripped to the bone like this, “do you really think you’re making things easier for yourself by having this scene?”

  “I’m not concerned with that.” The other girl brusquely swept aside the well-meant protest. “I’m not going to let you get away with such a barefaced bit of poaching for lack of a few plain words.”

  Katherine resignedly accepted the fact that a great deal more than a few plain words were obviously going to be said before this interview was over, and speaking as calmly and authoritatively as she could, she said, “There’s no nice way of saying this, but—I did not take Paul away from you. And if you want my authority for saying that—he said so himself.”

  “You mean you discussed me?”

  “No. Not by name. But I once had the unhappy experience of having someone I loved fall for another girl.” She knew she was not being very wise to admit as much to anyone of Aileen’s type, but she could not let the unhappy girl feel entirely alone in her humiliation.

  “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t inflicting the same sort of thing on someone else—”

  Aileen gave a high, contemptuous little laugh, but Katherine went doggedly on.

  “I asked Paul outright if there’d ever been anyone else, even by implication. And he said no.”

  “Then he lied.”

  “Aileen, I’m sorry. I’m not prepared to take your word against his.”

  “Everyone in the family knew! Why, our fathers probably arranged it when we were kids.”

  “Oh—that. He didn’t deny that his father had done a good deal of planning and interfering. What he maintained was that none of it was with his consent or with his wish.”

  “What you’re trying to say is that I wanted him, but he didn’t want me.”

  “What I’ve been trying to do is to save a few remnants of your pride by not putting that into words,” returned Katherine a little impatiently at last. “I’m simply loathing this conversation, and you can’t be liking it, either. Can’t we possibly take the rest as said? I’m truly sorry if you happen to want the man who wants to marry me—”

  “He does not want to marry you.”

  “He does, you know,” said Katherine, strangely fortified by that conversation in the car.

  “He simply put on that grand pretense because he thought—” She paused and bit her lip. Perhaps even she hesitated before admitting that she knew about old Mr. Kendale’s presumptuous ruse.

  “We’re simply going around in circles.” Katherine stood up with an air of bringing this painful scene to an end, though she found that her knees were by no means steady. “I would far rather not have had all this said, and I can’t think that you feel any better for having said it. But now there’s really no point in continuing the discussion.”

  “You mean you’re going on with this engagement?”

  “Certainly I’m going on with it,” said Katherine coolly, though she had a queer, superstitious feeling that in saying this so positively she was committing herself to more than she really intended.

  “You’d be much wiser not to.” Aileen spoke with a deliberation that
robbed her melodramatic words of their absurdity. “My father and I wield quite a lot of power in this town, you know.”

  “Are you threatening me?” asked Katherine coldly and incredulously.

  “Not only you. The Kendales, too,” said Aileen. Then she turned on her heel and went out of the room.

  For a few minutes after the other girl had gone, Katherine stood there leaning her hands upon the desk. She was, she found, trembling quite violently. Not from any real alarm over Aileen’s threats, but in sheer reaction to a dreadfully unpleasant scene.

  Presently she sat down again. For since Aileen had chosen to go, there was now to reason why Katherine should pretend to have business elsewhere. Indeed, her courage failed even at the thought of walking through the department where presumably Aileen now was.

  “It’s an impossible situation,” she muttered. “I’m sorry now that I ever encouraged her to remain here. Of course, it’s only for a few weeks—all this is only for a few weeks—but—”

  At that moment the telephone rang beside her and as she lifted the receiver she heard Paul’s voice say, “May I speak to Miss Renner, please?”

  “Oh, Paul—I’m speaking!”

  She had no idea of the mingled relief and appeal that sounded in her voice until he said, “What’s the matter, child?”

  “N-nothing.”

  “Well, I hear there’s something wrong. Has there been some sort of trouble? No, don’t try to tell me over the phone. I’m coming over.”

  “There’s no need—” she began. But he had already hung up the receiver at his end.

  She told herself that it would have been much better to have kept him out of this. But she could hardly contain her relief and pleasure when he came into the room a few minutes later.

  “What’s wrong?” He stood looking down at her.

  “Nothing much, really.” She gave an unsteady little laugh. “I’m ashamed that you could actually hear from my voice that I was a bit shaken. But you must know quite well that there are upsets in every department from time to time. I had a few words with someone—”

  “With Aileen?”

  “I’m not telling you either names or circumstances.” She smiled almost normally, for in his presence she had recovered her usual poise with astonishing speed. “It was terribly nice of you to rush over to my rescue. But I had dealt with the matter—and it was the sort of thing that any responsible person in my position should deal with. To appeal to higher authority would be both mean and ill-advised.”

  “Well—” he seemed only half-convinced by her arguments “—if that’s the way you feel about it—”

  “I do indeed! But thank you very much for concerning yourself about me.”

  “You are my concern,” he pointed out coolly. “Have you a lunchtime appointment?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then lunch with me and we’ll go and buy your ring.”

  “My ring?”

  “Your engagement ring, my dear. It’s customary to give a ring when two people become engaged.”

  “Oh, but—couldn’t we delay it a little? Pretend that we were waiting until we could go to London or something?”

  “Why should we?”

  “You know why!”

  “Ssh,” he said warningly. And smiling he bent and kissed her cheek. “I’d like you to have your ring right away. Objection overruled.”

  She made a resigned little gesture with her hands, and taking one of them for a moment, he said, “I’ll fetch you at twelve-thirty. And as your immediate boss, I’m allowing you half an hour’s extension on your usual lunch hour.”

  She laughed, half exasperated and half charmed. But when he had gone she returned to her work with a better heart, the unpleasant scene with Aileen already less important in her mind.

  He was as good as his word, collecting her with great punctuality, and Katherine had the not unenjoyable experience of walking through the store with him, aware that everyone glanced their way with varying degrees of interest.

  With admirable tact he took her right outside the store to lunch, avoiding the Grand, which had such unhappy memories for her, and choosing the other big hotel in town. Here, over an excellent lunch, she made one more attempt to convince him that there was no urgent necessity to buy her an engagement ring at this moment.

  “It’s an absurd expense for a very short while,” she pointed out.

  “How do you know it’s going to be for a very short while?” he wanted to know.

  “Oh, Paul, of course it is! You can’t seriously suppose that I’m going to turn this playacting into reality?”

  “I suppose it very seriously indeed,” he assured her. “And in a week or two’s time you may well feel the same.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so obstinate about this. We hardly know each other and it can’t matter—”

  “Do you really feel you hardly know me, Katherine?” He leaned his arms on the table and smiled full at her.

  “Well, n-no. Not in the ordinary sense of the term. But I know very little about you as a person—how you react in certain circumstances, what is the real driving force behind your actions, or even what your standards are.”

  “Funny—I feel as though I know all that about you.”

  “I’m a rather simple person, I suppose.”

  “I’m not especially complicated myself. I’m inclined to stick to one idea until I’ve got what I want. And at the moment I want to buy you an engagement ring.”

  She gave in after that. And when they had finished their lunch he took her to the leading jewelers in the town, and there he bought her a magnificent sapphire and diamond ring because she had not been able to control a gasp of delighted admiration when it was shown to her.

  “It’s much, much too splendid,” she pleaded. “I don’t need anything like that.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Something much more modest would do just as well.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Yes, of course. Anyone would. But—”

  “Then this is the one we will have,” he said. And she went back to Kendales wearing it.

  During the whole of that afternoon she addressed herself to writing a full report and outline of future organization to Mr. Arnoldson. For it occurred to her that if he were soon to hear of her engagement to Paul Kendale—which he would inevitably do—h was just as well that he should also have proof that she had been doing something rather more useful in the interests of the firm.

  There followed a few days of what seemed to Katherine to be a sort of uneasy interlude between periods of inevitable drama. Then back came a letter from Mr. Arnoldson, expressing not only gracious congratulations on her engagement and the photographs that bore witness to it, but also the liveliest appreciation of her report on the store. Mr. Arnoldson wrote:

  From a purely personal point of view, I cannot help regretting that your marriage will inevitably put an end to your career with Bremmisons and its subsidiary firms. Your report more than justified my conviction that you were brilliantly suited to this sort of work, and had you been staying with us I have no doubt that you would eventually have graduated to one of the highest positions in the firm.

  It was all Katherine could do not to write back by return mail and assure Mr. Arnoldson that she hoped to be with Bremmisons for many years. At least, she supposed she did. But it was difficult to look into the future and see anything beyond her engagement to Paul Kendale and the necessity of breaking it.

  To her surprise, her report—which apparently Mr. Arnoldson saw fit to circulate to various interested parties—drew praise not only from Paul, but from his father.

  “It’s brilliant,” Paul told her, “and the old man wants to see you about it himself. I’m to take you home with me this evening if you’re free.”

  Divided between gratification and nervousness, Katherine said she would be free, and after the store was closed, Paul drove her out to the beautiful house on the outskirts of Morringham
, which she felt she would forever associate with that dreadful dinner party.

  Here, to her surprise and a little to her amusement, she was received in solitary tête-à-tête by old Mr. Kendale, even Paul being excluded from the discussion.

  He started by putting her through her paces with regard to the report itself, and he listened with a good deal of attention when-she enlarged upon her ideas for one or two drastic reforms. Apparently he found these not unacceptable since he grunted approvingly from time to time.

  Then, when he had turned the last page of the report and apparently had no more questions to ask about it, he glanced up at her shrewdly and inquired without warning, “Why are you marrying my boy?”

  “Mr. Kendale! Why do you think I’m marrying him?” She was startled into prevaricating.

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”

  “But I don’t think you have a right to ask me.” Katherine had had time to recover herself, and although she spoke quite gently, she spoke firmly, too. “That’s between Paul and me.”

  “You don’t rush into easy protestations about loving him, I notice,” was the dry comment. “Well, perhaps that’s understandable. We’re hot a lovable lot. I suppose you’re marrying him for his money and his position.”

  “No,” said Katherine. “I am not. That at least I’ll tell you. And with that, I’m afraid, you’ll have to be satisfied.”

  “Curious—” he stared at her “—I believe you’re telling the truth. Well, go along now. I’ll see you at dinner. I expect you want to talk with Paul. You’ll probably find him in the garden. You’d better go out this way,” and he opened the French window for her.