Friday's Child

by Stephanie Wyatt

  To her surprise he said softly, ‘I’d already begun to work that out for myself.’

  He held Mirry’s astonished gaze. Was he trying to tell her he no longer bore a grudge, that his invitation tonight was a genuine attempt to make a new start? Suddenly she felt so happy, her small faced was bathed in its radiance, giving her a sparkling beauty she was unaware of herself, but which made the man staring at her swallow hard.

  A waiter brought their drinks, while another took their orders for dinner. When they’d all chosen, Kate began to ask Simon about the foster brothers and sisters who had shared his home, but Jay made no attempt to join in, drawing his chair closer to Mirry and commenting wryly, ‘Here I was, thinking I’d be introducing you to one of the fleshpots of London, only to find you know it better than I do.’

  She laughed. ‘Wenlow isn’t Outer Mongolia, you know, and Simon’s flat gives us all a base in London. Actually, I spent quite a lot of time with him when I was at university. Canterbury’s a long way from Wenlow for a weekend, and during some of my vacations I was lucky enough to be taken on for work experience by Haslam Tenniel.’ She watched his brows rise at the name of one of London’s leading architects. ‘Not that I dined at places like this often,’ she added, her dark eyes dancing, ‘but this was always my favourite for a special celebration.’

  ‘Then either it was a stroke of genius on my part choosing it tonight, or I’m more attuned to your tastes than I’d dared hope,’ Jay murmured, the hard lines of his face softening into a teasing smile.

  Mirry stared at him, her lips parted on a startled breath. Was Jay flirting with her? Before she could be sure, a booming voice rang out, ‘Mirry! Mirry Grey!’

  She leapt to her feet with a crow of pure delight as she saw the thick-set man with a mane of pure white hair powering across the room towards her. ‘Uncle John! Or should I show more respect and call you Lord Shilbury now?’ she asked mischievously, knowing the industrialist had been given a life peerage in the New Year’s Honours list.

  ‘Cheeky minx.’ He landed a smacking kiss on her cheek. ‘And what do you mean by coming to London without letting me know?’

  ‘I’m only staying overnight,’ she said regretfully.

  ‘Lydia’ll be furious she’s missed you. She’s in Paris till the weekend. Simon, you old son of a gun!’

  While he shook her brother’s hand, Mirry realised this meeting couldn’t have been more opportune. It was an ideal chance to draw Jay into his father’s circle of friends.

  ‘Uncle John, let me introduce you. Kate Redding… Lord Shilbury.’ She paused while a goggle-eyed Kate took the proffered hand and murmured something polite; then, keeping her eyes demurely lowered to hide her glee, she continued, ‘…and this is Jay Elphick.’

  ‘Mr Elphick.’ About to take Jay’s hand, John Shilbury did a double-take. ‘Did you say Jay Elphick? David’s boy?’

  Unable to hide her laughter at the surprise she had sprung on him, Mirry nodded. ‘None other.’

  John pumped the stunned Jay’s hand enthusiastically. ‘David’s boy! Well, damn me! I’m delighted to meet you at long last. Delighted.’

  Jay’s ‘Thank you, sir,’ was strangled, but Lord Shilbury, the bit between his teeth, seemed not to notice.

  ‘Should have happened years ago. Always thought your father was wrong-headed to let your mother call the shots, but that’s what guilt can do to a man. Too late to change things now, and David’s made sure you’re where you belong at last.’ He became aware of a man who had come up to hover at his elbow. ‘Dammit, I have to go, my guests have arrived. Look, we must get together some time, Jay. Your father honoured me with his friendship and I hope you’ll do the same.’

  There was an odd little silence when he moved away. Kate broke it with a breathless, ‘Lord Shilbury’s your uncle?’

  Simon hooted. ‘We’ve known him all our lives, but Mirry’s the only one with the cheek to call him uncle. The rest of us are much more respectful.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him,’ Mirry advised. ‘John Shilbury’s just a teddy bear.’

  ‘I rather doubt his business opponents see him in that light,’ Jay said drily. ‘Ah, I think our table’s ready.’

  Kate was obviously bursting with curiosity but too polite to ask questions, and though the conversation over dinner was lively, several times Mirry caught Jay staring across the restaurant to where the industrialist was entertaining his guests. She couldn’t define his expression, but something seemed to have shaken him.

  Was he surprised that his father, whose livelihood and interests were wholly centred on country pursuits, had been on such terms of friendship with a hard-headed business tycoon like John Shilbury? Well, it was an unlikely friendship, yet it had lasted since university days, but then both David and Georgie had had a gift for making—and keeping—friends.

  What a difference it would have made to Jay’s life had his mother allowed the adoption! Georgie would never have left his upbringing to au pair girls, neither would David have shuffled him off to school so young. He would have grown up knowing the security of two loving parents, the affection of a large extended family. He, too, would have been calling John Shilbury ‘uncle’.

  And Mirry felt an overpowering yearning to make up for all Jay had missed, to fill his life with love and such happiness that he would forget the years of loneliness and alienation.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It was nearly lunch time before Simon emerged from his room the next morning. ‘How do you always manage to look so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?’ he complained, yawning.

  ‘A life of unsullied purity,’ Mirry quipped, glad that her restless night didn’t show, or Simon would have tried to make something of it.

  They had gone on to a club after leaving the restaurant, Jay becoming flatteringly attentive, much to the upset of Mirry’s equilibrium, especially when they danced. Even now, in the cold light of morning, she still seemed to feel the imprint of his body against hers as they moved to the music. Although she had never had a serious romance, she had danced with plenty of men, but never had she seemed to fit with a partner before, as if their bodies were made to complement each other. The brush of his thighs against hers had made her feel as if her bones were melting.

  And yet she had known it was dangerous to give in to these feelings when she was only too aware that Jay didn’t return them. To take her mind off the delicious sensations his nearness had been arousing, she’d said brightly, ‘Kate and Simon seem to be getting on well, don’t they? I like Kate.’

  ‘Good.’ He’d drawn her a little closer as he avoided another couple.

  Mirry had drawn in a trembling breath, her heart beating so hard she was afraid he would be aware of it. ‘D-don’t you mind?’ she’d persisted. ‘That Kate and Simon seem attracted, I mean?’

  ‘No, I don’t mind,’ he’d said against her hair, his breath moving the curling tendrils.

  She’d stared fixedly over his shoulder, fighting the temptation to melt against him. ‘I always thought Simon was the love ‘em and leave ‘em type,’ she’d babbled on, using words as a shield. ‘But something he said tonight makes me think he’d love to settle down, given the right woman.’

  ‘Mirry…’ She had been forced to look up at him, and discovered those frosty silver eyes could soften with warm amusement. Her mouth had gone dry. ‘Shut up, huh?’ He’d gathered her close and Mirry had given up. Just this once, just for tonight she would allow herself to dream.

  Mirry abandoned the salad she was preparing for lunch to pour her brother a mug of coffee, asking, ‘How long before you’re off again?’

  ‘Three days.’ He sat down at the breakfast bar, watching his sister as she resumed the lunch preparations. ‘I could get used to being looked after,’ he grinned. And then, as if the two statements were connected, ‘I’m seeing Kate again tomorrow. It’s all right,’ he added quickly. ‘I asked if I was stepping on Jay’s toes and she said definitely not.’

  Mirry wondered if Si
mon had found what he was looking for in the young widow, a woman mature and stable enough not to turn to other men when he had to be away. ‘I liked her,’ she said encouragingly.

  But Simon didn’t rise to her prompting. ‘What time’s Jay collecting you?’ he asked.

  She had found an empty honey jar to mix the French dressing in, and hoped the vigorous shaking would account for her suddenly reddened cheeks. ‘Two-thirty. And you might have told me about his offer, Simon.’

  When Jay had driven them back to the flat last night he had walked Mirry into the building while Simon was saying his farewells to Kate. ‘You don’t have to get off first thing in the morning, do you?’ he asked.

  For a moment she looked at him blankly. ‘Oh, my train, you mean.’

  ‘Train? Don’t be silly. Your brother told me you’d accepted my offer of a lift. Only it would help me if you could make it early afternoon.’

  The prospect of spending more time in his company was blissful. ‘You’re going home tomorrow? Oh, thank you, a lift would be splendid. And whatever time suits you, of course.’ She was trying not to sound too eager, unaware that her feelings were emblazoned across her expressive face.

  ‘Thank you. I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed an evening more.’ His eyes were on her tremulously smiling mouth, and as he moved his head towards her Mirry swayed to meet him, as if drawn by a magnet. His mouth brushed hers softly, sweetly, parting her lips so seductively that all memory of that first, punishing kiss was blotted out. The softness of his mouth firmed to a demand she responded to helplessly. Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird, and as her eyelids closed the delicious sensations intensified: the slight abrasiveness of his chin, the crispness of his hair at the nape of his neck, the intoxicating male scent of him.

  When he finally drew away, her eyelids fluttered up and she looked at him dazedly, only then realising that somehow, during that devastating kiss, her hands had crept round his neck. Colour flared in her cheeks as she let her arms fall to her sides.

  ‘For a pint-size, you certainly pack a punch,’ Jay said, and her cheeks burned hotter, her lashes lowering to hide her confusion. ‘Two-thirty tomorrow suit you?’ he asked, and she nodded. He kissed her again, swiftly and firmly. ‘Goodnight then, Mirry. Sleep tight.’

  Of course, she’d hardly slept at all, and now her body seemed poised in anticipation of seeing him again.

  Which made it such a crashing disappointment when, promptly at two-thirty, she found a stranger on the doorstep. He explained that Mr Elphick had been unavoidably delayed and he had been instructed to collect her instead.

  ‘Traffic’s not too bad today. It shouldn’t take us long,’ the chauffeur commented as the car moved off. But Mirry was too disappointed to care, or to take any interest in their route, so she was startled when, after only about twenty minutes, the car suddenly turned, swooping down into an underground car park.

  The man got out and opened her door, and because he obviously expected it, she got out too, for the first time feeling alarm, until he said, ‘Mr Elphick should be through by now. If you’d like to come this way, miss.’

  She followed him to a lift and the next moment was shooting upwards, watching the figures flash, three…six…nine. The lift stopped and the doors opened. They were in a plushly carpeted foyer where a glossy blonde receptionist sat on guard. ‘Miss Grey for Mr Elphick,’ the chauffeur said, and Mirry found herself being examined by astonished blue eyes.

  ‘If you’ll come this way, Miss Grey…’ The girl led her along a corridor, tapped on a door half-way down and pushed it open. ‘Miss Grey’s here, Carol.’

  This room too was carpeted, but much more workmanlike, with a large desk guarding a communicating door and another in the corner where a girl was typing rapidly. The woman at the larger desk stood up, a woman in her forties, Mirry judged, very smart and efficient-looking but with a friendly smile. She just had time for the fleeting thought that Jay must hold an important position to warrant two secretaries when the elder one said, ‘Hello, Miss Grey. I’m Carol Thorpe.’

  As they shook hands she went on, ‘I’m sorry about the delay, but it shouldn’t be long now.’ She leaned across the desk to press down the intercom. ‘Miss Grey has arrived, Mr Elphick.’ Back came Jay’s disembodied voice, ‘Thank you, Carol, we’re almost through.’

  By now Mirry was feeling euphoric because she would be travelling home with Jay, after all, but before she could say she didn’t mind waiting, the phone was claiming the secretary’s attention. While she waited it seemed to ring again every time the receiver was replaced, and each time Carol told the caller Mr Elphick was not there and proceeded to deal with the matter herself.

  Mirry was so fascinated, she jumped when the inner door suddenly opened, a disgruntled male voice issuing ahead of the speaker. ‘I was told you had a liking for a gamble, and nerve enough to turn a risk into a profit.’

  ‘But I only gamble on certainties.’ Jay’s response was silkily smooth to cover the underlying steel as he followed the other man through the door. His eyes flicked to Mirry, but he gave no sign of recognition as he went on, ‘The only certainty with your proposition is that you will make a profit. Good day, Mr Fenton.’

  Not until the unfortunate Mr Fenton had beaten a retreat did Jay turn to Mirry. Dressed as he had been when she had first met him, in a grey business suit with a white shirt and subdued tie, his hair brushed smooth, his shoes with a polish you could see your face in, he was every inch the successful businessman, at home in his own world, his authority sitting on him as naturally as a second skin. With a flash of insight, Mirry guessed that this was where he was most comfortable because it was something he had created for himself, by his own efforts and with his considerable intelligence. She wondered if he had chosen finance as a career because a balance sheet told its own unequivocal story, clear as the paper it was written on, without any messy emotion to blur the issues.

  And then the steel in his eyes softened to warmth as he smiled. ‘I hope you didn’t mind me sending the car for you, Mirry.’

  She shook her head, her smile widening as she remembered her fright. ‘Though when he said you’d been delayed and he’d been sent to collect me, for some reason I assumed he’d be driving me all the way home. I nearly had a heart attack when he drove into the underground car park. I thought for a moment I was being kidnapped.’

  He chuckled. ‘Now, why do I think you’d take even that in your stride?’ He noticed the secretary’s raised eyebrows as she observed Mirry’s diminutive size. ‘Carol, I have it on the best authority that Mirry’s stronger than she looks.’

  Mirry laughed delightedly, surprised he had remembered, and nodded her agreement when he asked if she could give him just a few more minutes. Instantly he reverted to the decisive and, she suspected, demanding boss, listening to Carol’s messages and issuing instructions. He picked up his bulging briefcase. ‘I’m taking the Hong Kong figures with me to work on. Keir Minto was going to send someone to the house to install the new computer link today—he already has? Splendid. I’ll put the results on tomorrow and you can give copies to the board.

  ‘OK, Mirry, let’s get out of here before something else turns up.’ Barely giving her time to say goodbye to the two secretaries, he swept her out of the office and across to the lift. Minutes later the Jaguar was weaving through the traffic, making for the Ml.

  ‘Sorry about the delay,’ he apologised, drawing up for a red light.

  ‘Well worth it to travel home in this sort of comfort,’ Mirry assured him. He was still wearing the same grey business suit, the sober tie still firmly in place, yet he seemed to have sloughed off his busy executive skin, the hard lines of his face relaxed.

  The car moved again. ‘You were very patient. Hope you weren’t bored out of you mind.’

  ‘Not a bit. In fact I was riveted. The first time I’ve had a glimpse of a tycoon at work.’

  ‘Tycoon?’ He pulled a self-deprecating face. ‘I don’t flatter myself I
’m anywhere near John Shilbury’s league.’

  There was silence for a while. Jay was having to concentrate on the traffic and Mirry didn’t want to distract him. But, when they finally reached the motorway and the car surged forward, Jay said suddenly, ‘I was amazed that John Shilbury had even heard of my existence, let alone that he was prepared to acknowledge me. I always thought—’

  ‘That you were a dark skeleton hidden away in David’s cupboard?’ Mirry finished. ‘But you were the son he had always wanted, so why should he keep you a secret?’ She gave him a quick glance. Always before when she’d tried to talk to him about his father, he’d resisted. Was he prepared to listen at last?

  ‘Of course, I don’t really remember the time when he and Georgie were still hoping to adopt you,’ she said softly, ‘but when I was a child your father talked about you often. He was so proud of you, showing the few photos he had of you around, boasting how well you were doing at school. I can remember how excited he got before one of his trips to London, and how unhappy he often was when he came back and told us he hadn’t been able to see you, after all.’ At Jay’s raised eyebrows, she explained, ‘I believe your mother often made difficulties.’

  She saw him frown, but when he made no comment she went on, ‘I was about ten or eleven when they redecorated a study bedroom for you, and asked Dad to turn the vegetable garden into a tennis court. You were coming up to your eighteenth birthday, you see, grown up, and they thought you would be able to visit them at Wenlow without having to ask your mother’s permission.’

  She saw his hands tighten their grip on the steering wheel. ‘And instead I told him I wanted nothing more to do with him.’

  Did he regret that decision now? she wondered. It had hurt David badly, and, because he was hurt, Georgie was too. But, in case he was regretting it, she was compassionate enough not to tell him that.

  Instead she said, ‘He didn’t talk about you as often, then, but he knew you got a good degree when you left university, and he knew about you going into banking. Only when you went abroad did he lose track. It took Mr Golding several days to trace you when David died so suddenly.’