by Daphne Clair
it's only boring because I don't understand it,' she answered. 'Could you explain to me what "nil residual" means? I'm interested.'
He did, and she asked more questions, and got a short and simple lesson on some aspects of high finance. Jason stood by watching them both, with his half full glass in his hand, and when the man had excused himself and gone to speak to another couple, he asked quietly, his eyes fixed on her with a frown, 'What was that all about?'
it was about lease contracts,' she said lightly. 'Weren't you listening?'
'I could have told you everything you ever wanted to know about lease contracts,' he reminded her. 'You've never wanted to know.'
'Well, now I do. Going to work has broadened my horizons ---'
'Don't I know it!' he muttered under his breath. 'What are you up to now?
Looking for new fields to conquer? I should warn you, Harding is a very happily married man, with five children, no less. And a good, churchgoing Catholic. You're not likely to get far with him.'
She regarded him steadily. He had baited her like this before, and usually she found it so shattering that she could do nothing but turn away, sick with guilt and hurt, and only determined to hide her tears from him. Perhaps the sherry she had drunk helped, but suddenly she realised that if she went on accepting everything Jason threw at her, the blame, the studied insults, the vicious innuendoes, her life was not going to be worth living. This couldn't go on without it becoming a pernicious habit, a sort of sadomasochistic ritual.
The time had come to break the pattern. 'That was uncalled for,' she said.
'You know perfectly well that I wasn't even mildly flirting with the man. It was a conversation that he might have had with anyone who didn't move in the same business circles.'
She saw the surprise in his eyes, quickly succeeded by calculation as though he was sizing up an opponent. 'All right,' he said at last, 'I withdraw that remark.'
'Thank you,' Catherine said coolly, and held out her glass. 'May I have another sherry?'
Jason cast her a sharp look, and went to the bar. When he came back she was talking to one of the women executives, and they were exchanging views on the problems and challenges of raising a family while engaged in a career.
'It certainly helps if you have a co-operative husband,' the other woman was saying as Jason joined them. 'Jason, have you been doing more dishes since your wife went to work?' she asked him teasingly.
'Jason's mother and father have been with us since just after I got the job,'
Catherine said quickly. 'Althea looks after the children quite often.'
'You're lucky,' the woman said. 'I have to hire a babysitter when I'm working past school time.'
'I will, too, once Jason's parents leave,' said Catherine.
Jason looked at her sharply, then lowered his eyes as he sipped at his drink.
They went in to dinner soon afterwards, and were served several courses, beginning with tua tua soup and ending with the traditional pavlova topped with whipped cream and red tamarillo slices dusted with sugar. Catherine drank three glasses of white wine made from locally grown grapes at Henderson, Auckland's nearby wine district, and by the end of the meal felt pleasantly stimulated. She had scarcely spoken to Jason, but carried on an animated conversation with her neighbour on the other side, who was in the marketing side of the financial firm. They were deep in a lively debate on the value and uses of television advertising when the chairman rose at the head of the table and called for order.
'Speeches!' Catherine's neighbour groaned. 'Old Shorter can go on for hours.'
Mr Shorter did discourse at some length about the years that Arthur Baysting, the guest of honour, had spent in the firm, and how he had worked up to his present top management position after starting work as an office boy way back in the Dark Ages. But Catherine's table companion kept her amused with irreverent whispered asides and additional remarks, so that she was obliged to choke back laughter, pressing her napkin to her mouth to hide her amusement.
After the Chairman, Mr Baysting's department head made a briefer, wittier speech, and one of his colleagues who had worked with him for forty years insisted on saying a few more words of praise, studded with anecdotes.
A flurry of wine-pouring went on round the table as the Chairman rose again, to propose a toast to Arthur and wish him all the best in his retirement, adding that Arthur might have made fifty years in harness, if a slightly earlier retirement had not been forced upon him by his doctor's recommendation after his recent illness. Then, with a final injunction to Arthur not to over-exert himself, and to enjoy a long and peaceful retirement, the Chairman cast an expert eye about the table, noted that everyone had a full glass, and proposed the toast they had been waiting for.
Everyone rose, and Jason leaned forward and pulled back Catherine's chair, his cheek brushing against her temple as he straightened. She jerked her face aside, upsetting her balance, and he grabbed at her arm to steady her.
His grip was like steel, and it didn't relax until they had drunk the toast and were seated again.
The toast had included Arthur's wife, a thin, nervous-looking woman who sat beside him in blue brocade and a brown fur stole, smiling shyly as he rose, pink-faced and embarrassed, to reply to the toast.
He spoke at first hesitantly, and then with growing confidence, lacing his speech with well-rehearsed in-jokes which amused his colleagues but often left the other guests slightly puzzled. He reviewed his rise through the firm, with painful slowness, until Catherine felt slightly glassy-eyed, wondering when the catalogue of achievements and funny incidents would reach its end. Then he seemed about to wind down, but first he had a list of people who apparently deserved his thanks, starting with his wife, and progressing through the Chairman and several of his predecessors. Catherine had virtually stopped listening, clamping her jaws to stop a yawn escaping, and fixing a determinedly interested expression on her face, when she heard Jason's name mentioned.
'.... and most certainly not least,' Arthur was saying ponderously, 'my young friend Jason Clyde, who probably saved my life.'
He was looking down the table, smiling at Jason, who made a dismissive gesture with his hand and frowned, muttering, 'Nonsense!'
But Arthur would not be stopped. 'That's a day I'll never forget,' he said. 'I never knew before what a heart attack was like. Well, now I do know, and I don't want to experience it again, thank you.'
Several cries and murmurs of encouragement came from the men about the table, but Arthur spoke over them. 'I want to publicly thank you, Jason,' he said solemnly. 'You brought me round and sent for the ambulance, and if you hadn't acted so promptly, I might not be standing here tonight.'
A ripple of applause followed, and Arthur beamed at Jason, who had lowered his head to stare fixedly at the white tablecloth, his mouth turned down. It was the first time that Catherine had ever seen Jason looking acutely embarrassed. And Arthur had not finished yet. 'And then,' he went on, beaming about at the other guests, 'he went himself to see my wife and take her to the hospital, where he stayed with her until my son arrived from Hamilton several hours later. Thank you, not just for me, but on behalf of my family, Jason. We want you to know that we appreciate your actions.'
Jason, tightlipped, gave a jerky nod as more applause followed, and Arthur added a few more words of general thanks and appreciation for the function honouring his retirement.
Later the guests rose from the table and, as informal groups gathered preparatory to departure, Jason took Catherine's arm to say goodbye to Arthur and his wife.Arthur took Jason's hand in both of his, smiling widely, obviously pleased with himself.
'Goodbye, Arthur,' said Jason. 'Look after yourself. If I'd known you were going to do what you did in that speech tonight, I'd have left you there on the floor when it happened!'
Arthur laughed. 'I meant every word!' he said. 'Mrs. Clyde, your husband's a man to be very proud of.'
'He was so kind,' Mrs. Baysting said softly, hangin
g on to her husband's arm. 'He broke the news so gently to me, and insisted on taking me to the hospital himself. He stayed even after they said Arthur was going to be all right.'
'I'm glad he was able to help,' said Catherine. 'Goodnight, and very best wishes for a long and pleasant retirement for both of you.'
'Oh, I'm not retiring,' Mrs. Baysting said with shy playfulness. 'Women never do, do they? In fact, I expect I'll be busier than ever with Arthur home all day. I'm not used to having him there for lunch—and then he's accustomed to having his morning and afternoon teas, you know. I seldom bother, on my own. I daresay we'll both get fat!'
She seemed happy enough at the prospect, Catherine reflected as they moved away to make room for other guests to bid their farewells.
'You never told me you'd saved a man's life,' she said to Jason as they waited for the lift to take them down to the ground floor and the car-park.
Jason shrugged. 'He's blown it up out of proportion. All I did was what anyone with a bit of common sense would have done.'
'What? Mouth-to-mouth? Heart massage?'
'A bit of both. I've never done it in earnest before. I was very relieved to see the ambulance blokes come in, I can tell you.'
'You must have done some good while you were waiting.'
'So they said.'
The lift arrived, the doors opening for them as another couple came from the dining room and hurried to join them while Jason held the door button.
She was silent in the lift, only saying, when the other couple had called their goodnights and Jason was unlocking the car door, 'How long ago did it happen?'
'What?'
'This heart attack of Arthur's.'
He seemed to hesitate before he opened the door for her and said, 'Does it matter?'
His voice was indifferent, and she said, 'I suppose not.' It must have been recently, she guessed—since they had virtually stopped speaking to each other. It was a frightening thought, that they had grown so far apart that she had known nothing about so dramatic an experience, which must have involved him so closely. And since his own father's attack, he must have found the memories of it jarring. Yet he had said nothing about it to her.
It wasn't until he had slid into his own seat and fastened his safety belt that he said, 'Actually, it was some months back. The day we were supposed to have had lunch together, remember?'
CHAPTER TEN
Catherine was stunned. 'Why didn't you tell me?' she asked him Jason was turning the key, bringing the engine to life, and he had backed out of the parking space and driven the car out of the car-park gateway before he replied.
'I tried to tell you,' he said. 'You didn't want to know.'
She was silenced. She remembered now that he had wanted to explain to her why he had cancelled their lunch, and she had stopped him, preferring not to hear what particular business crisis was more important than his wife.
She started to say something, her hands clenching in her lap, then her voice died as she saw the remote set of his profile in the light from a street lamp.
What could she say? 'I'm sorry,' was such an inadequate phrase in this instance. And she was very sure that Jason didn't want to hear it.
Back home, they found the house in darkness except for the porch light that Althea had left on for them. Catherine peeped into the children's rooms, saw them sound asleep, and continued down the short passage to their own room.
She turned to face him as he closed the bedroom door behind them, switching on the centre light. 'I wish you had told me,' she said.
Stripping off his jacket as he strode past her to the wardrobe, he exclaimed.
'For heaven's sake! What difference would it make?'
'I think it might have made a lot of difference,' she said stubbornly. 'I was very upset at the time. It seemed to me like another instance of your work coming first, before—before your family.'
'Another instance?' His glance was hostile as he turned after hanging up his coat, his hands going to his tie and jerking it loose. 'What do you mean by that, exactly?'
'What do you think I mean?' she cried. 'I've always known that the office was the most important thing in your life—'
'Don't talk such bloody nonsense!' he snapped furiously. 'Are you trying to find excuses for your own behaviour, or what?'
'Oh, must you always bring everything back to that?' Catherine demanded.
' Yes! Yes, damn you, I must!' He stepped away from the wardrobe, his face set in an expression resembling a snarl.
She was startled into retreating from him, and he stopped dead, took a quick, hard breath and said thickly, 'I must because it's always there, it's a poison in everything we say to each other, everything we do. You know that old cliche about something that gnaws at your vitals—whatever vitals are? I know just what it means, now. Something that's constantly there, deep inside, it never goes away, no matter what you say, no matter what I do. I can't get rid of it, and it's chewing away at me, it never stops, and the worst part of it is, that it isn't going to kill me. I'm going to have to live with it. And I don't know how I'm going to do that. I don't know how I can.'
'Jason!' she whispered, appalled.
'Oh, don't look like that!' he said harshly, turning away from her as he pulled the tie from round his neck and flung it carelessly on the bed.
'You look at Jenny and Michael like that when they've scraped a knee or stubbed a toe. For God's sake don't offer me sympathy!'
Catherine stood where she was, at a loss to know what to say to him.
Jason unbuttoned his shirt and said, 'Aren't you getting ready for bed?'
'I suppose so,' she said, slowly slipping off the filmy stole she had worn in the car. She folded it into a drawer, and reached behind her for the zip of her dress as she straightened.
But Jason's hand was there already, and she jumped, seeing him regarding her sardonically in the mirror as he expertly slid the dress open down her back. 'Don't look so scared,' he said. 'I've done this hundreds of times before.'
'I know. I was just—startled. Thank you.'
He stood behind her for a moment, watching her reflection in the mirror, and she felt the muscles of her neck tense as she waited for him to move. A current of awareness pulsed between them, she felt it. Then he moved back, and out of range of the mirror. She heard him go out to the bathroom, and quickly slipped off the dress to put on a satin nightgown, pretty like all her nightwear, but quite opaque.
When Jason came back she hurried past him immediately to take her turn in the bathroom, lingering unnecessarily over creaming off her minimal makeup and combing out her hair.
But when she finally returned to the bedroom he was still up, and still wearing the dark towelling robe he had thrown on to go to the bathroom.
He was standing by the dressing table, absently turning over the silver-backed hairbrush he had given her. She stopped in the doorway, watching him warily.
He looked up, his eyes cool. 'Come in,' he said. 'I'm not going to beat you with it.'
He put the brush down as she obeyed, closing the door behind her, and thrust his hands into the pockets of the robe.
'I didn't think you were,' she said huskily. 'You're not a violent man, Jason.'
'Don't count on it,' he said softly, and her eyes widened as she felt a frisson of apprehension travel coldly up her spine.
'Do you want a divorce?' he asked suddenly.
'No!' Her voice was sharp with shock. Starkly, she asked, 'Do you?'
'As the injured party?' He looked at her, his eyes hooded, and then said slowly, 'So you don't want to leave me? Is it because of the children?'
Mutely she shook her head.
'What, then?' he demanded harsly. 'Won't he marry you? Don't you want to live with your lover? Or is it that he can't give you as much as I can? You say I put my work first, but I haven't heard you complain about the money it brings— you don't resent this house, your clothes, your own car, do you?
Just the fact that my work, w
hich provides all these things, takes me away from you!'
'I'm not that silly! I know you have to give time to your work—I only resent the fact that you can shove me—us—to one side while you devote yourself to it. And that day that you rang to cancel our lunch, it seemed the last straw. I didn't know that it was because of Arthur having a heart attack, you didn't explain---'
'I intended to tell you what had happened when I saw you—I didn't want to go into it over the phone. His wife was standing near when I rang you from the hospital.'
'I see. I'm sorry, but—well, it seemed that I could always be pushed aside if you had some business matter to attend to. It somehow brought matters to a head, and made me look at myself, my life—and you—us. I—went to the beach that day, remember?'
'Yes.' He looked at her with growing anger and burst out, 'For heaven's sake, Catherine, you're not going to tell me you slept with Thurston because I cancelled a lunch date! '
'No, of course not! You don't want to understand, do you? If you did, you might be forced to realise that there could possibly be a fault or two on your side, too. While you're playing the patriarch chastising his erring wife, you can adopt that insufferable holier-than-thou attitude, you can feel so self-righteous! And what about you? Do you think I believed all these years that those business trips and conferences of yours were all devoid of feminine company? I've never complained about that, either. But then you've always been careful not to be found out, haven't you?'
Jason looked so stunned that she knew almost Immediately she was totally, unforgivably wrong. His shock was unfeigned, the pupils of his eyes dilating and his skin going suddenly pale. In an odd voice, he said, 'There's never been anything to find out, actually. My God, do you really think' He stopped, staring at her, then she saw his face tauten in anger. 'How long have you thought that?' he asked. Catherine shrugged. 'I don't know. Years, I suppose. I assumed ---'
'Well, you assumed wrong! If you really thought that—didn't you care? You just went on assuming, without even saying a word to me?'
Catherine was silent, her fingers playing with the plaited satin ribbon at the waist of her nightgown.