by Liz Fielding
‘Did I?’ She’d thought it, but she didn’t remember telling Julie. ‘Well, perhaps you’d better walk me through the rest of what’s been happening while I’ve been on my sick bed.’
The day had been quiet enough, yet she felt completely drained when she let herself into her apartment that evening and she still had to face Anthony.
She made a special effort to dress in the way he liked. It seemed the least she could do. A simple black dress, her hair in a sleek chignon. She picked up the watch from the dressing table and put it back into its box. She would give it back to him. It was impossible to keep it under the circumstances.
It was just before seven when she parked in the Napier’s car park and went through into the bar. Anthony was already waiting in the corner seat and rose as she joined him.
He took her hands and bent to kiss her cheek. The gesture was so unexpected, so spontaneous that it took her by surprise.
‘Can I get you something to drink, Rosalind?’
She shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’
‘Sit down.’ He sat facing her for a moment before he began to speak. ‘I have something to tell you, Rosalind. I’m not sure how to begin.’
He was so grave that her heart began to beat anxiously. She tried to cover her anxiety under a joke. ‘Whatever’s the matter? Are the partners bankrupt?’
‘No, my dear. Your job is safe. In fact, I think after this evening you’ll find your position improved. Your promotion is one of things on tonight’s agenda.’
‘Promotion?’ But…
‘It’s not work I want to talk to you about.’
This was not how she had imagined it would go. She had rehearsed exactly what she would say. How she would take the blame entirely. But it was all getting away from her and she had to seize the initiative before she lost her nerve. She placed the jeweller’s box containing the gold watch upon the table and pushed it towards him.
He frowned. ‘What is this?’
‘I’m returning the watch you gave me for my birthday, Anthony.’ She didn’t wait for him to ask why. ‘I can’t marry you.’ She had expected him to be angry. Bluster a little. But he just looked at her as if he couldn’t believe his ears. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Who told you?’ he demanded.
‘Told me what?’
‘Rosalind, I can quite understand that you would want to make the break yourself. I thank you for it. It makes it easier for me. But that you should have found out from someone else —’
‘I’m sorry, Anthony,’ she interrupted him. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Julie. Julie and I...’
‘You and Julie…?’ It took a moment but the penny finally dropped. Anthony’s awkwardness. Julie’s strange manner. ‘Isn’t that rather sudden, Anthony?’
‘Mind-numbingly sudden, totally unexpected and unbelievably wonderful.’ He was suddenly all concern. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to understand—’
‘Oh, I understand, my dear friend. I do understand.’ She leaned across and placed her hand on his. ‘I hope you’ll be very happy.’
‘That’s generous of you. What about you? Is that saxophone player…’ He hesitated, clearly concerned.
‘Jack? I’m not even sure if I’ll see him again.’ She straightened. ‘You’d better go to your dinner, or you’ll be late.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’ He picked up the box and opened it. ‘This was your birthday present, Rosalind. Please keep it.’
‘Julie —’
‘I gave you this before I realised she existed.’ He took it out and fastened it around her wrist. ‘A present from a friend. I hope we can still be friends?’
She didn’t want to take the watch back, but sensed that he needed to feel she had forgiven him. She leaned across and kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you, Anthony. Be happy.’ She stood up and walked quickly away, not looking back, determined that he shouldn’t see the sting of tears in her eyes and mistake them for regret. Her only regret was that she had been too cowardly to take something special with both hands when it was offered.
Everything had seemed too much to give. Now it seemed too little.
She made it to the powder room, determined to regain her composure, put a brave face on before she confronted the lobby. She freshened her lipstick and realised the girl next to her was smiling at her through the mirror. ‘You were at the jazz club the other night with Jack, weren’t you?’ the girl said.
‘Yes?’ Then she remembered. ‘Of course, you were the singer. You’re very good.’
The girl’s smile broadened in appreciation. ‘Thank you. Jack’s been such a help. He said I was singing the wrong material.’
‘He’s been playing at the club?’
‘Playing...?’ She girl smiled. ‘Not yet. Are you coming to the party?’
‘Party?’
‘Jack’s throwing a party to celebrate. Mike was pretty desperate you know. On the point of bankruptcy. They were going to turn the place into a snooker club.’
‘I remember. He said something about it.’
‘He’s given me a contract,’ she added, confidentially.
‘Mike?’
The girl looked at her oddly. ‘No. Mike’s gone. Jack’s taken the place over, having it all done up. Didn’t you know?’
There was a cold spot in the pit of her stomach. ‘No. I’ve been out of circulation for a couple of weeks. Congratulations on the contract,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you deserve it.’
‘He’s bringing in a new manager and a lot of first class musicians so things should improve. With his money, he can pay for the best.’
‘Money?’ The cold was spreading. Icy fingers that crept along her veins, finding every hidden corner to touch and chill.
‘Apparently. This is more of a hobby with him.’ The girl outlined her lips in a vivid red. ‘Like playing the sax.’ She glanced at her through the mirror. ‘I thought you knew him? You seemed very close—’
‘No.’ She didn’t know him. At all. ‘We’re just acquaintances.’
She shrugged. ‘Mike told me he’s one of those computer wizards. Apparently he’d made a fortune by the time he was twenty and he’d doubled it every year since.’
‘Then why is he in Melchester?’ she asked, her voice a little too sharp. ‘It’s hardly a millionaires’ playground.’
The girl turned and looked directly at her. ‘Do you know that’s exactly what I said to him! Apparently he had some personal business here. He’s been staying at a friend’s house in Wickham but he likes the area so much that he’s decided to buy it. I suppose it’s only a country cottage for the likes of him.’
‘I suppose so.’ And meanwhile he had been amusing himself at the expense of the yokels to while away the time in between deals.
They walked out into the reception area together. ‘Why don’t you come in and say hello to everyone? It’s very informal. I’m sure Jack would be pleased to see you.’
‘Do you think so?’ The board listing the functions for the evening showed Drayton Enterprises in the Wellington Room. ‘Why is Jack holding a party here, with the club at his disposal?’
‘He’s having it re-decorated.’ She waited in the doorway. ‘Are you coming in?’
‘In a moment. You go on.’
Rose stood in the doorway and looked around. It was a moment before she saw him, seated quietly in a corner talking to a couple of men. The dinner jacket clung to his shoulders exactly as she had known it would. She had recognised the quality but blinded by whatever game he was playing with her she had not seen the truth.
He hadn’t been trespassing in the house. The car was his. He had never denied it, choosing instead to allow her to make a fool of herself. And she had certainly done that.
Why he had come into her office and played to her, kissed her, she didn’t understand. What he hoped to gain by his deception, she had no idea. She only knew that she felt utterly betrayed and as she stood there watching him, relaxed, perfectly
at home in these opulent surroundings the ice in her veins turned to fire.
She edged her way through the crowded room, was spoken to by people who recognised her and she replied briefly, but didn’t stop to talk.
‘Can I help you, madam?’ The chef at the buffet table began to tempt her from the rich display of food. ‘If you’d like to a take a plate?’
‘Thank you.’ She considered for a moment the delicacies spread out before her. Finally, her eye alighted on a long silver platter containing a salmon mousse, as yet untouched, beautifully decorated with fine scales of cucumber and recumbent in a sea of lettuce and she smiled. ‘I’ll take this.’ She picked up the dish and began to move away from the table.
‘Er, no...madam. I’ll serve you.’
‘It’s all right, it’s for Mr Drayton,’ she said, reassuringly. ‘I’ll see to it myself.’ She didn’t wait for the man’s response, but headed towards the corner.
He had his back to her and didn’t see her coming. The polite enquiring smiles of his companions alerted him to the fact that there was someone behind him and he turned, glanced up, registered her presence with surprise and quickly rose to his feet.
‘Rosie, how lovely to see you.’ She admired the aplomb with which he had recovered his poise. No one could possibly have told from his bearing that he had just received a severe jolt.
‘Hello, Jack.’
‘When did you get home?’ He pulled back a chair for her. ‘Come and sit down.’
She shook her head. ‘No thanks. I’m not staying.’ She smiled at the two other occupants at the table. ‘I’m gate-crashing,’ she said, confidentially. ‘I’m not supposed to be here.’
‘Don’t be silly, sweetheart.’ There was a warning edge to his voice. ‘Let me take that —’
‘Silly?’ She raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. ‘I’m not being silly, Jack,’ she assured him, moving the dish out of his reach. ‘But when I discovered you were having a party, I just had to come and say how much I admired the enormous strides you’ve made in the last couple of weeks.’ She referred back to their fascinated audience. ‘Did you know that only two weeks ago, Mr Drayton was earning a few pounds doing kiss-o-grams in his spare time?’ She allowed this interesting fact to sink in. ‘Possibly a little more than that. Have your seen the Ferrari?’ The two men exchanged a glance and Jack’s face darkened, dangerously. ‘And he was squatting in an empty house. Now look.’ They ducked nervously as strips of lettuce parted company with the salmon as she swung it in a careless arc at the crowded room. ‘Buying jazz clubs, throwing parties at the Napier. Quite the most remarkable upturn in his fortunes wouldn’t you say? Is he giving you tips on how to do it?’ she asked.
‘Rosie!’ he warned.
She shook her head. ‘It’s quite simple,’ she advised her fascinated listeners in a tone of the utmost confidentiality. ‘I can tell you exactly how he does it. He gives everything one hundred percent,’ she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘That must be the secret of his success, wouldn’t you think? No half measures. All or nothing.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
JACK rocked back on his heels as the salmon mousse began to accelerate on its return journey, anticipating the moment of contact and easily avoiding it. But the heavy chilled dish had dewed with moisture and as Rose swung at him, intending merely to splatter him, humiliate him, as she felt humiliated, it flew from her hand.
The ornate sculptured edge connected sharply with his face, catching his cheek bone with a sickening crunch, snapping back his head, knocking him sideways so that only the wall prevented him from crashing to the floor. The brightness of his blood from the gash on his cheek mingled in shocking contrast with the pale pink of the salmon that had smeared his face before splattering with spectacular success across the front of his jacket.
‘You were right, Jack,’ she said, into the sudden, shocking silence. ‘When you give one hundred percent there are no questions left to ask.’
She turned and walked quickly away from him, the stunned and silent crowd parting to let her through.
‘Rosie! Come back damn you!’ His voice bellowed across the room like the roar of an angry bull. It hammered against her like a blow, shivering her bones. Demanding, threatening, pleading almost. Blowing away the red haze of her temper.
She staggered slightly as the reality of what she had done hit her. She turned back, registered for the first time that he was hurt, saw him shake off a helping hand and lurch towards her. She put up an arm as if to fend him off, but it was caught and held by someone close.
‘Still got a temper then, cariad?’ The voice was soft as a shawl of mist around the shoulders of Carreg Cennen. Welsh as the daffodil attached to his lapel for St David. She registered the shock of hair, no longer carrot bright, but faded, streaked with silver now, the laughing green eyes, the nose battered by too many fierce encounters on a rugby field.
‘Dada?’ she whispered, hardly able to believe her eyes. He simply held out his arms and she fell gratefully into them. ‘Take me home, Dada. Please take me home.’
He glanced over her shoulder and pulled a face. ‘Yes, I think that might be a wise move,’ he said. ‘Unless you’re ready for round two? Jack doesn’t look in the mood for a polite discussion. No, don’t look back. Come with me. Now!’ He moved her quickly away from the reception room and out into the sharp night air. ‘Have you got a car, Rosie?’ he said, moving swiftly away from the doorway and the altercation behind them. He glanced at her, a glint of humour lighting his eyes. ‘Or are we going to have to run for it?’
‘Over there.’ Her heart was hammering painfully and she began to shake as reaction to her outburst set in.
‘I’ll drive,’ he said, ‘but you’ll have to give me some directions. They seem to have made everything one-way since I was last in Melchester.’
She told him the way, staring at him all the time almost afraid that he was a figment of her imagination, conjured up by some genie out of the intensity of her need and that he might disappear if she took her eyes off him for a second. As he had disappeared once before.
‘Where did you come from?’ she asked. ‘Where have you been?’ The other question, the important question — why did you leave me? — she didn’t dare to ask.
‘London today,’ he said. ‘America two days ago. I’ve spent the last month in New Orleans. You’d love it there, Rosie. The music! Oh, Lord, the music!’ He grinned at her and it was as if he had never been away. But he had. He had simply packed his bags and gone. She withdrew slightly.
‘Why didn’t you ever write?’
He glanced across at her. ‘I did, cariad. A dozen times at least. Asking your mother to reconsider, come to me. I even sent the tickets.’ He sighed. ‘She never read the letters or cashed the cheques. She sent them back unopened.’
Stunned, Rose sank back against her seat. ‘I didn’t know. She never said a word. I thought you had simply abandoned us.’
He pulled up outside the flat. ‘A proud woman, your mother. I asked her to come with me. Begged her to. You were on the point of leaving for university, were starting a life of your own, but it made no difference. When we married I promised her I would forget about performing and take a teaching job. She wasn’t about to change her life to lead a tramp’s life following me about.’
‘But you went anyway?’
‘I had to. I was getting old and I hadn’t done any of the things I’d promised myself as a young man.’ He sighed. ‘The sort of things you should do before you get married, I suppose.’
‘And did you do them?’ she asked, a little sharply. ‘Did you enjoy yourself?’
His look begged for understanding. ‘Yes, cariad. Most of them, anyway. But whether it was worth the loss is something I haven’t come to terms with.’
‘Self-discovery is painful?’ she asked.
‘I think perhaps you’re in the throes of learning just how painful.’ He looked at her, thoughtfully. ‘But you’re a little grown up these days for
me to ask exactly what Jack did to deserve such cavalier treatment. And maybe I don’t have the right.’
‘Nothing to oil the shotgun for, Dada,’ she reassured him. ‘He allowed me to make a complete and utter fool of myself over him. No permanent harm done except to my pride,’ she lied. She lifted her shoulders in a helpless little gesture that betrayed her feelings despite her brave words.
He patted her hand. ‘Sometimes pride is all we’ve got, child. And as for making a fool of yourself...’ He shrugged. ‘We’re none of us immune from that particular bug.’ His smile softened his words. ‘So, are you going to invite me in? You can make me some coffee and tell me all your news.’
Her hesitation was only momentary. ‘Yes, of course.’
She told him, at first a little grudgingly, about her job, about Anthony. A little about how she had met Jack and he laughed. ‘It wasn’t funny,’ she scolded. Then spoilt the effect by giggling. ‘You obviously know Jack,’ she said. ‘How did you meet him?’ she asked. ‘No, wait. Don’t tell me. I can guess. At a jazz club.’
‘Where else? It was a few weeks ago just after I arrived in New Orleans. He came to a club where I was playing, came backstage afterwards. We had a drink together, talked about home. I asked him to do an old man a favour and wish you a happy birthday from your Dada.’
‘You asked...? I thought he was a kiss-o-gram from the girls at the office. They never denied it...Oh, damn.’ Her father’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Sorry. It’s just he never said who the message was from.’ She thought about it. ‘Maybe he didn’t get a chance. At least not then.’ But Jack had asked about her family. And he had wanted to know if her mother was serious about still loving her father. Had he known then that Rich Parry was on his way home?
‘I had a phone call from him at the weekend asking me if I’d like a job running the jazz club in Melchester.’ He grinned. ‘Of course, he might be having second thoughts right now.’
‘Oh, Dada, I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be, cariad. If the pain was that bad, it was better to let it out. And if he isn’t a big enough man to know he deserved it, then I wouldn’t want to work for him.’