by Anne Mather
‘Your mother lives with you, then?’ Julie ventured at last. She had to ask.
Robert shook his head. ‘No. She doesn’t live in Richmond any more, as you possibly know, but she has an apartment of her own in town.’
‘I see.’ Julie frowned. She didn’t altogether care for that. If they were to live with Lucy, as she had led them to believe from her letters, an apartment in town was not the environment Julie would have chosen for Emma. After the freedom of the last few years it would be very hard for her to adapt.
And Robert was making things no easier by behaving as though she should be content to wait and see what was to happen to them. And he still hadn’t mentioned Michael! Why? Because of Emma’s presence? Or for some other reason? Surely he must realize after three months that they were both able to accept the situation, however distressing it might be. But it was not up to her to bring up that subject, so she said nothing.
‘Will I be able to see Buckingham Palace from my window?’ Emma was asking now, and Julie turned to reprove her with gentle tolerance. ‘London’s not like Rhatoon, darling,’ she said, smiling. ‘There are lots and lots of buildings here. Skyscrapers, too. You know what they are, don’t you?’
Emma’s lips drooped. ‘What will we see, then? The sea?’
Julie sighed. ‘No, not the sea. Probably more houses,’ she added dryly.
Robert changed down rapidly. ‘Stop trying to put the child off even before she’s seen where she’s going to live,’ he said briefly. Then, to Emma: ‘Actually, you can see Buckingham Palace from the apartment windows.’
Julie’s cheeks burned at the reproof, but Emma was delighted. ‘Can you? Can you really? Is it very high up?’
‘Very high up,’ agreed Robert. ‘The top of a skyscraper, in fact.’
‘Gosh!’ Emma was impressed. ‘How do we get up there? Are there lots of stairs? Do we go round and round like we did in the pagoda—’
‘There are lifts,’ inserted Julie shortly, trying to calm her indignation. She realized her explanations to Emma must have sounded off-putting, but she was tired, too. Couldn’t Robert make allowances for that?
‘Electric lifts,’ said Robert, continuing his conversation with Emma almost as though Julie was not present. ‘You work them yourself. You just press a button for the floor you want, and up you go.’
‘But what if the lift’s upstairs and you’re downstairs?’ asked Emma, with her painstaking logic.
Robert grinned at her over his shoulder, but Julie looked away. She couldn’t bear the realization that unless she was careful Robert would succeed in winning Emma’s affection. She didn’t want that. It might be a selfish thought, but that was something she could not accept. Not now. Not now that Michael was dead.
Oh, why had he had to die? she asked herself for the umpteenth time. Their world had seemed so peaceful, so secure. And now it was shattered.
Neither Robert nor Emma were aware of her anxieties. ‘Good question,’ Robert was remarking in answer to Emma’s query. ‘Well, you press another button, and the lift automatically comes down to you. And in the same way, if you’re upstairs and the lift is down it comes up. Of course, it’s an enormous building, so there are six lifts really.’
Emma was impressed. ‘But what would you do if the lifts broke down?’ she asked. ‘If there was no electricity to work them.’
Robert slowed behind a stream of cars entering Hammersmith flyover. ‘There are stairs to use in an emergency,’ he answered. ‘But I shouldn’t care to have to climb them, would you? Those short legs of yours might wear away before you reached the top.’
Emma giggled, and Julie steeled herself to look about her with feigned interest. But in actual fact, it was interesting. So much old building had gone and in its place the concrete structures of streamlined living. The motorways were a revelation, linking and interlinking in a network of steel girders. She wondered whether she would ever dare drive here again after the quiet roads around Rhatoon, and then decided rather wryly that she might not get the chance. After all, Michael had left all his shares in the company to the family, and what little income she had in her own right would scarcely run to a car. Indeed, she expected to have to return to secretarial work to support herself. She didn’t want to feel beholden to the Pembertons.
By the time they reached Sloane Street and turned into Eaton Gate, Julie had her bearings again. Inner London had changed much less than the outskirts, and it was all painfully familiar. They passed the end of the street where the Pemberton Construction Company had its offices, and she recalled with clarity her first day there in the typing pool. She had been very young in those days, and it wasn’t until later that she progressed up the scale to become Vincent Harvey’s secretary, and through him had been introduced to the chairman, Robert Pemberton. Her nerves tautened. The classic situation, she thought bitterly. Ideal scope for the romantic. But how disastrously it had all ended.
Robert was turning into a quiet square and presently he brought the car to a halt in the forecourt of an immense block of apartments. Even in the rain, Julie could see how impressive it all was, the sculptured forecourt with its formal gardens and fountains, the shallow steps leading up to a row of swing glass doors, the commissionaire from his office vetting all would-be visitors. Recognizing Robert’s car, he saluted politely and Robert raised a casual hand in his direction as he slid from behind the wheel.
When Robert opened the boot to take out their luggage, the commissionaire left his office to approach them. ‘Good afternoon, sir. May I be of assistance?’
Robert shook his head, drops of water sparkling on the thick darkness of his hair. ‘Thank you, Norris, I can manage. Miserable afternoon, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Norris looked curiously at Julie and Emma, who had climbed out of the car and were standing together looking vaguely lost and alien.
Robert intercepted Norris’s interest and standing down the cases, he straightened and slammed the boot lid. ‘My sister-in-law and her daughter are staying with me for a few days,’ he commented by way of an explanation. ‘They’ve just arrived back from Malaya.’
Julie’s eyes widened at this unexpected piece of information. They were to stay with Robert?
But she could not say anything with Norris looking on, so she confined herself to a pointed stare at her brother-in-law. However, Robert seemed utterly indifferent to her reaction, and picking up the cases he indicated that they should precede him into the building.
Julie took Emma’s hand and climbed the shallow steps seething with indignation. What did he mean? Why were they to stay with him? Lucy had said in her letters that they were to stay with her, that she was lonely now that Robert had his own apartment, that she would welcome them into her home wholeheartedly. Needless to say, Julie had taken this with some degree of scepticism. She knew her mother-in-law too well to believe that she should have changed her attitude towards her. But even so, she had never doubted the truth of the arrangements.
In the cramped environs of the lift, cramped with two adults, one child, and two suitcases, Julie had to say something.
‘Why are we to stay with you, Robert? I understood from your mother’s letters we were to stay with her.’
Robert was propped indolently against the wall of the lift, his legs astride the cases. ‘Now now, Julie,’ he responded curtly. Then to the child: ‘Well, Emma? What do you think?’
Emma was thankfully too young to be aware of the undercurrents present in the adults’ conversation and smiled up at him. ‘Does it take very long to reach the top?’
‘Not very. We’ll be there in a few seconds. Look – can you see the red light moving behind those numbers? They’re the numbers of the floors we’re passing. See – ours is this one, right at the top.’
Emma’s eyes grew wide. ‘Oh, yes. Look, Mummy, we’re almost there. Gosh, my tummy feels all empty somehow.’
There was a slowing moment when Emma looked slightly disconcerted at the sudden change in her metabol
ism, and then the lift stopped and Robert opened the door.
They stepped out on to a pile-carpeted hallway, but although all the lifts opened on to this hall there were only two doors, and one of them was obviously a service door. Julie was impressed in spite of herself. Robert’s apartment must be huge.
Robert lifted the cases, but as they reached the door into the apartment it opened and a man, dressed all in black, stood waiting for them. He was middle-aged, with greying gingery hair, and a ginger moustache.
‘Oh, hello there, sir,’ he greeted Robert cheerfully, his round face beaming. ‘I heard the lift and I said to Mrs. Pemberton, I bet that’s Mr. Robert, and it is!’
Robert smiled faintly. ‘Very efficient,’ he remarked dryly. ‘Here, you can take these cases.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The man came forward and as he did so Robert glanced rather reluctantly at Julie. Then he said shortly: ‘This is Halbird, Julie. He goes everywhere with me. He’s a sort of general factotum, I suppose. At any rate, he’s capable of turning his hand to anything.’
Julie smiled the sort of wintry smile that was all her tight features would run to. ‘Good afternoon, Halbird.’
‘Good afternoon, madam. And you, too, miss,’ he added, looking warmly at Emma. ‘I hope you had a pleasant journey. Not much of a day for arriving back here, though, is it? Miserable!’
‘Miserable,’ echoed Julie, and Emma, with her usual curiosity, said:
‘Why hasn’t your moustache gone grey, like your hair?’
‘Emma!’ Julie was horrified, but both Halbird and Robert laughed.
‘I don’t know, little missy,’ he replied, picking up the cases. ‘Perhaps the frost hasn’t penetrated that far yet.’
‘What do you mean?’ Emma frowned.
‘You can discuss the merits of Halbird’s appearance later, young woman,’ observed Robert then. ‘Come along. Grandma’s waiting to see you.’
But not to the extent of coming to the door to greet them, thought Julie bitterly, and then chided herself for being so petty. She had been in the country scarcely more than an hour and already she was allowing the situation to upset her.
‘Do go in,’ Robert directed, his voice noticeably cooler as he addressed his sister-in-law, but Julie drew back.
‘You lead the way, Robert,’ she insisted. ‘After all, it is your apartment.’
Robert’s eyes were hard as they encountered her defensive green ones for a brief moment, and then without a word he took Emma by the hand and walked through the cream panelled door. Julie followed more slowly, her heels sinking into the soft carpet of the entrance hall. The tapestry-hung walls were highlighted by examples of native wood-carving he had collected on his various trips abroad, and there was a cedar wood chest on which stood a vase of Peking jade which Julie realized must be priceless.
Robert didn’t stop to give them time to remove their coats but opened the door into the lounge beyond, ushering Emma before him. Julie heard her mother-in-law’s exclamation of delight when she saw her granddaughter, and then she, too, entered the huge room. And it was huge, stretching as it did from one side of the apartment block to the other, the outer wall a miracle of plate glass. But before Julie could take in the exquisite appointments of it all, her eyes focused on the woman reclining gracefully on a low couch near the windows, presently embracing Emma, and exclaiming at how tall she was and how grown-up she seemed from the toddler she remembered.
Julie stood hesitantly on the thick apricot-coloured carpet, feeling ridiculously youthful and vulnerable as she had always done in this woman’s presence. She could remember clearly the first time she had been introduced to Lucy Pemberton. Robert had introduced them, and she had known from the outset that no girl would ever live up to the standards Lucy Pemberton expected for her sons.
But now Lucy seemed to remember her daughter-in-law, and holding Emma close to her with one arm, she extended a hand to Julie. ‘Julie darling,’ she exclaimed. ‘Forgive me! But it’s so enchanting to see Emma again, and after – after everything that’s happened …’
Julie responded immediately to the emotion in Lucy’s voice, hurrying forward to bend and kiss her mother-in-law’s perfumed cheek. ‘It’s good to see you again, too, Lucy,’ she averred warmly, and then realized that Lucy hadn’t exactly said it was good to see her. But she thrust such uncharitable thoughts aside and when Lucy patted the couch beside her, she subsided into the seat and loosened her coat with nervous fingers.
‘I must apologize for not being at the airport to meet you,’ Lucy went on, her expression indulgent. ‘But I’ve had the most dreadful cold, and Robert insisted I stay here.’
‘That’s all right.’ Julie was quick to deny that any offence had been taken. ‘And are you feeling better?’
‘Oh, much better.’ Lucy looked up at Robert, who was standing watching this interchange rather grimly. ‘Darling, do you think Halbird could provide us with some tea? I’m sure Julie would love a cup, wouldn’t you, dear?’
Julie nodded, avoiding Robert’s critical stare. ‘Thank you, that would be lovely.’
‘Oh, there’s so much to say!’ exclaimed Lucy suddenly, hugging Emma close to her. ‘You and I have got to get to know one another properly, haven’t we, Emma?’
Halbird had carried in the cases and disappeared with them through another door which obviously led to the other rooms of the apartment, and Robert departed, obviously in search of him.
‘Do you live here, Grandma?’ Emma asked, looking about her in wonder, and Julie was not surprised. Life in Rhatoon had hardly prepared her for such apparent luxury. Apart from its size, the lounge was extensively furnished, but despite the quality of the furnishings it was not a bleak room. There was a warmth about it, a lived-in quality, that appealed to Julie in spite of herself. Even so, to a little girl it was all rather overwhelming and Emma seemed fascinated by the pseudo cowl-fire which broke up the central area and provided a focal point.
‘No, darling,’ Lucy was replying now. ‘Nowhere so grand. I have a flat in a mews not far from here. You’ll see it in good time, I expect. But Uncle Robert uses his apartment for entertaining, so naturally it has to be very grand and important.’
‘Entertaining?’ repeated Emma. ‘You mean he puts on shows?’
Lucy chuckled, and Julie felt impatient suddenly. Surely someone should tell her what was going on. Why were they here? Why weren’t they staying with Lucy as arranged. And why didn’t Lucy say something? When were they all going to talk? Really talk, about the things that really mattered! Like Michael’s death, for example!
CHAPTER TWO
EMMA was asleep, and Julie was changing for dinner.
The afternoon tea Halbird had provided, a delicious spread of wafer-thin sandwiches, savoury biscuits, and cream cakes, had been more than enough to make Emma drowsy, and after a swift shower she had tumbled into bed without any protest.
Their rooms were linked by the bathroom, which they were to share, and as with the lounge the appointments were attractively exquisite. Emma’s bedroom was smaller than her mother’s with a fluffy blue carpet and pale blue curtains and covers, while Julie’s room had a white carpet and violet covers and curtains. Both rooms had long fitted units to take their clothes, and during tea Halbird had hung those garments which were likely to crease in the wardrobes. The trunks containing the rest of their belongings had not arrived yet, but Julie expected they would be here in a few days as they had been sent in advance.
Julie surveyed her reflection critically in the dressing-table mirror as she brushed her hair. Had she changed much? Could Robert see much difference in her? Did she look much older?
She sighed. What did it matter what Robert thought? Although nothing had been said yet about the change in arrangements she knew that if they were to stay here for a few days it must be that Lucy had not been entirely truthful when it came to explaining the circumstances. And Julie had no intention of remaining in Robert’s apartment any longer than was
absolutely necessary. Even if it meant taking a job and finding a flat of their own.
She leant forward to examine the shadows beneath her eyes. She was not sleeping well, and it was beginning to show. She pressed her lips together impatiently. What did it matter? There was no one to care how she looked here, of that she had few doubts. Lucy was accepting her because of Emma, and Robert …
A sliver of apprehension caused an involuntary shudder. She would not think of the past. She would think only of the present. And to hell with the rest.
She rose from the dressing-table stool and smoothed the skirt of the one and only evening dress she had carried with her, a slim-fitting gown of dark blue crepe jersey, that brushed her ankles and accentuated her excessive fairness and slenderness of figure. Her hair she wore as she always wore it, straight as a silver curtain about her shoulders.
When she was satisfied that there was no improvement she could make she emerged from her room and walked slowly along the panelled hall to the double doors of the lounge. A faint odour of continental coffee pervaded the air, and she sniffed appreciatively. She was not hungry, she had eaten little of Halbird’s spread at teatime, but she did enjoy good coffee.
Lamps illuminated the lounge, giving a curiously intimate atmosphere to a room that could never be described as such. And yet it was warm and comfortable, and deserted at the moment.
Julie closed the doors behind her and walked across to the plate glass windows. Venetian blinds had been let down and through them she could see the panorama of the city glittering with a myriad lights below her. And yet for all that they were in the heart of the city, it was silent up here, silent and isolated, and remote like the cabin of an airliner. One could not fail to get an inflated feeling of one’s own importance living here, thought Julie ruefully.
She was startled into awareness by the closing of the door and swinging round to face Robert Pemberton she paused to wonder how long he had been standing there, watching her. He was not wearing a dinner jacket but had shed the informal suede for a charcoal grey lounge suite that fitted his lean body closely, accentuating the length of his legs and the hard muscles beneath the rippling material. From the dampness of his hair, she guessed he had recently stepped out of the shower.