by Mary Cummins
‘She’ll be making a beeline for our John,’ said Michael, his eyes gleaming into hers. ‘She gave him the go-by when an American family came over on holiday, and she got friendly with the son. They were decidedly rich, and I rather think she thought herself all set for marriage, and a nice easy life in America, with all the trimmings. But now she’s home again, minus any sort of ring—even John’s little flowery one.’
‘That’s a lovely ring!’ cried Catherine. ‘I’m sure any girl would be proud to wear it.’
‘Are you getting cross?’ asked Michael. ‘Would you be thinking that it might fit you? If so, you might save yourself a lot of heartache by forgetting all about it.’
‘I think my feelings are my own affair, Michael,’ said Catherine, and already she could feel a sudden ache in her heart. Already Rosalie Craven was making straight for John, and all four were standing together in a small group.
‘I suppose we’d better go and join them,’ said Michael, with resignation, and at his suggestion they all sat down round one of the tables, and John ordered refreshments. After the first initial stare Rosalie chose to ignore Catherine, though her friend, Dick Curzon, was only too happy to include her in the conversation. He was a cheerful young man, and Catherine found herself responding to his easy chatter. It was refreshing to find someone who did not seem to have a lot on their mind!
John was looking rather grim, and Elizabeth wore her rather haughty look, though Michael and Rosalie were beginning to sparkle. Rosalie was telling them of a wonderful evening she had spent in America, and Michael was obviously enjoying hearing all about it.
‘You’ve promised me the next dance, John darling,’ she said, as the music changed, and without a word he rose and lifted back her chair, as she stood up.
Shall we try this one?’ asked Dicky Curzon, and Catherine nodded and smiled. As she left the table, she saw that Elizabeth had leaned forward to talk to Michael, and that they seemed to be arguing a little.
Dicky danced well, and Catherine tried to enjoy it all more, though she couldn’t help a twinge of jealousy when she saw how well John and Rosalie Craven danced together.
Soon, however, John came to claim her again, though it seemed to her that there was even more restraint between them.
‘Er ...if you want to dance with Miss Craven, please don’t worry about me,’ she told him, and he glowered at her.
‘You’re my partner, Catherine. I shall dance with you.’
‘But...’
‘You mean you object? You’d rather dance with someone else? Mike Rodgers, for instance?’
She flushed deeply at his tone.
‘Why should you object to that, if Elizabeth doesn’t?’
‘What makes you think she doesn’t?’
She looked over and saw that they had gone from the table, but she could not see them on the dance floor.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with me,’ John told her, and she flushed.
‘Surely I don’t have to put up with anyone!’
He sighed.
‘That’s true. I’m sorry, Catherine, I’ve got rather a headache. Do you mind if we leave rather early, my dear?’
‘Why, no, of course not.’
Was he running away? From Rosalie?
They stayed for two more dances, then Catherine collected her jacket, and John took her out into the clear, rather frosty evening and helped her into the car. He drove silently, and it was a moment or two before Catherine realised they weren’t on their way home.
‘This surely isn’t the way, John.’
‘No, I thought I’d drive for a little. I like to look at the countryside by moonlight. The trees are enchanting. Do you mind, Catherine? Are you warm enough?’
‘Yes, I’m warm enough, and I don’t mind.’
She snuggled down into the car, and they drove in silence for some way along winding country roads until it seemed that John had exhausted the black mood into which he had fallen. Finally he pulled up at a lay-by beside a small stream, which sparkled in the moonlight, and murmured rhythmically as it flowed past.
Catherine felt her heart begin to beat rather fast as John turned to look at her, then a moment later she was in his arms, and he was kissing her fiercely.
‘It’s time someone did that, and it had better be me,’ he told her, and she pulled away angrily.
‘What do you mean, John? I’m not asking anyone to make love to me.’
‘Aren’t you?’
‘Don’t make me mad at you, John. If you’re annoyed with Miss Craven, don’t take it out on me!’
‘I’m not annoyed with Miss Craven. Oh, for goodness’ sake, Kate, don’t let’s end the evening with a quarrel. I ... I wanted it to be very different. As a matter of fact, I wanted to ... to ask you to marry me.’
She gasped. It was the last thing she expected.
‘You can’t be serious!’
‘I’m not in the habit of making proposals unless I am serious.’
He hadn’t said he loved her. Catherine wanted to ask, but a strange inner shyness kept stopping her.
‘Why?’ she managed at last. ‘Why ask me?’
‘Because I want you, silly girl. And I need you, Catherine. If you married me, it would solve quite a lot of problems.’
It would keep him clear of Rosalie, she thought. Was he using her as a shield against the other girl, as he had done when he asked her to the dance? The girl obviously disturbed him, and Catherine could not be sure that she wasn’t being offered second best.
Then, too, did John think Michael was paying her too much attention? Did he think that Elizabeth would be happier if she became engaged to John?
Catherine said nothing, though misery was gathering in her heart. If only he had told her he had fallen in love with her, and wanted to marry her for her own sake!
‘I ... I don’t know,’ she managed at last, because truly she did not know. Her head seemed to be whirling, and her emotions so mixed that part of her wanted to go into John’s arms again, and feel safe for always, yet another part of her was afraid. She might lose it all again if he was only asking her impulsively, and she could not bear any more losses.
‘I’m sorry, Catherine,’ he apologised. ‘I’ve gone blundering in when I should be remembering that you’ve got a lot to forget. I hope you can forget this, too, my dear. It never happened.’
Swiftly he started the car engine again, and in silence they drove back home. She felt confused and dissatisfied, sitting there in the luxury of her lovely new dress and Aunt Lucille’s fur jacket.
It seemed that something precious was gradually slipping through her fingers, as the street lights began to grow brighter, and they made for the quiet suburbs.
‘Should we talk about it again, John?’ she asked in a small voice as he stopped the car at the front door, and for a long moment he sat still, then turned to look into her face by the light which shone above the front door.
Then he sighed.
‘No, my dear, I think we ought to leave it. We’re all a little upset ... hardly the proper atmosphere for a lasting engagement.’ He kissed her very gently. ‘You’re tired, so bed for you after a hot drink.’
Catherine’s throat felt tight with tears. She had wanted to talk again, but it was obvious that John didn’t. Perhaps he had only asked her impulsively, after all.
Her chin lifted, and she managed to smile and laugh lightly.
‘All right, John dear. I guess I have been a little lonely ... after Philip ... just as I’m sure you’re lonely, too. Goodnight. See you tomorrow.’ He nodded, his eyes bleak, then turned away, and Catherine went straight up to bed. She wondered if Elizabeth was in, and caught faint muffled sounds coming from her room.
If she hadn’t known Elizabeth better, she would have wondered if she was crying.
CHAPTER VII
Spring was full upon them and Miss Pryce prophesied a spate of engagement ring buyers. Catherine had seen several young couples peering in the window an
d comparing settings and costs.
‘Sometimes I think we sell far more wedding rings than engagement rings,’ said Miss Pryce, with a sigh. ‘Young couples seem to make up their minds so quickly these days, then they just go off and get married.’
‘Not all of us,’ protested Catherine. ‘I was engaged for a year before...’ She broke off, then continued with a small sigh: ‘Before my wedding was arranged.’
‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ Miss Pryce apologised. ‘I forgot.’
Since she had taken to avoiding Michael Rodgers, Miss Pryce had been very nice to her. Catherine wondered if it had all been her imagination, but she now realised that Miss Pryce admired both Elizabeth and Michael, and only wanted their happiness.
‘I’m over it now,’ she assured the older woman. ‘It’s like something that happened in another world.’
Her eyes had almost unconsciously gone to John, who was making out a list of rings whose sizes had to be altered to suit the customers who had already bought them.
‘Miss Craven seems determined to share her lunch hour with John,’ said Miss Pryce darkly. ‘She’s been in twice this week already. And always with an excuse—a small chain for her friend’s little girl, or someone else’s watch to be repaired. She’s determined to get back on the old footing.’ Catherine nodded. John had treated her with his old gentleness and good humour ever since the night of the dance. It was as though his proposal had never happened, and Catherine tried to pretend to herself that it didn’t matter. But she kept remembering every detail more and more, and wishing she had not been so taken aback. She might have given a very different answer.
Yet what was the use of that? It had been an impulsive proposal, and John would only have regretted it later.
Michael, too, was holding himself rather aloof since the dance, his eyes thoughtful as he busied himself with his own work. He left for an early lunch that day, saying he had a man to meet at a club nearby, then came back accompanied by a tall man in a well-cut suit and a bright tie with a matching shirt.
‘The diamonds are this way,’ he was saying. ‘Mr. John Sheridan will help you, I’m sure.’
John smiled at the newcomer, and Michael quickly hurried away saying he had to attend to something urgently. Catherine saw the man examining some beautiful diamond brooches with earrings to match, then it was her turn to go to lunch.
Three days later she wished heartily that she had paid more attention to the purchaser, when Uncle James called both John and Michael into the office, and the storm which Catherine had sensed for a long time began to break.
‘Who made the sale?’ James Sheridan demanded. ‘Our finest diamond brooch and matching earrings!’
‘I did,’ John told him.
‘And accepted a cheque. You must know we only accept cheques in certain circumstances. In other words, if we can be sure they won’t bounce!’
John went pale. ‘Has it?’
‘Yes.’
He glanced at Michael.
‘But ... but I don’t understand. The man was managing director of Newcomer’s, the wine importers. You remember, Mike? I ... I asked you and you said he was absolutely O.K.’
‘I said the firm was O.K.,’ corrected Michael, his eyes gleaming a little. ‘I know nothing about the man, John...’
‘You brought him up to my counter!’
‘I’d only just met him at the door,’ said Michael.
‘You aren’t shifting the blame to my doorstep.’
John’s face had gone white and hard as he looked back at his father.
‘Then it looks as though I’m entirely to blame,’ he said harshly. ‘One of the oldest tricks in the book, and I fell for it. It ... it was quite a sale, too.’
He looked again at the returned cheque, then stared at his father. There was no disguising that the loss was very serious.
‘You didn’t think of checking?’ asked James Sheridan quietly.
‘Hell, no! I thought he was someone Mike knew and when he offered a cheque, I asked Mike if it was O.K., and he said it was...’
‘The firm was,’ corrected Michael. ‘How did I know you hadn’t checked him out?’
John said nothing. The responsibility was his.
‘Leave us, Michael,’ said James Sheridan heavily, and Michael went out and shut the door.
Catherine’s stand was closest to the office and it was difficult for her not to overhear when voices were raised. She had not been busy, and she found herself becoming involved in the argument. Michael had escorted the man to John’s counter. It had appeared as though he had known him. Surely John wasn’t entirely to blame.
She looked up as Michael left the office and came over to her.
‘You heard?’
‘How could I help it? I’ve told Uncle James before that if he raises his voice, I can hear. I’m afraid you all forgot.’
‘I suppose we did. Fancy old John falling for that one. And what a sum! There’s going to be changes, I’ll bet. The firm can’t afford a loss like that, and no insurance will pay up for carelessness. I knew that, given time, he would have us ruined.’
‘That’s not fair!’ cried Catherine hotly. ‘You ought to take half the blame. You must have realised John would think you knew the man.’
Michael regarded her thoughtfully.
‘He’s got a good defender in you, Catherine,’ he said at last. ‘Don’t tell me you’re beginning to ... to care for John. That would be a laugh!’
‘Why should it?’
He looked down at her.
‘I thought you had more sense,’ he told her, quietly, ‘and that you’d tumble to it long before now.’
‘Tumble to what?’
‘The Sheridans. They hang on to people till it suits them. Then they get rid of them when it doesn’t.’
‘You’ve experience of this?’ she asked, her eyes challenging.
‘Yes. My father. James Sheridan soon got rid of him when it suited him...’
The office door opened and James and John came out. John glanced at Michael and Catherine talking together, then he went over to attend to his own work without a word.
Catherine saw a customer coming forward to look at pearls, and was grateful to have something to do. Was there any truth in what Michael had said? But, if there was, why had he got engaged to Elizabeth?
Her mind pondered the problem, even as she lifted out double and triple strings of creamy-white pearls to be admired. Could it be that he was pulling away from Elizabeth after he discovered that they did use other people, and that was the reason for the strain on their relationship?
If he broke away from them, it would have to be a complete break. He would have to start afresh as an employee in another firm, and perhaps there would be difficulties in leaving Uncle James. Perhaps the Sheridans could not afford to buy Michael out of the partnership. Was this why Catherine could often sense trouble, and why Michael complained so loudly that John was making mistakes?
But surely he could have done more to prevent this loss. Catherine’s eyes were troubled, though she smiled at her customer as she chose a single string of graduated pearls, and she reached for one of the lovely presentation boxes in which to lay the pearls.
As she wrapped them carefully, she could see that Elizabeth, who was having a late lunch, had only just come in, and had just heard about the bounced cheque. She had gone over for a word with Michael.
‘I want to talk to you tonight,’ she said quietly. ‘We could go in my car to the usual place.’
‘Oh ... all right, though this is usually the night you help your mother with one of her charities.’
‘Catherine can take my place. This is important, Michael.’
‘O.K., Liz darling. No need to get the gun out.’
Catherine saw her flush and turn away, then come over to her.
‘Can you help Mother with those ladies who come on Thursdays? You know ... tea and cakes handed round, and take notes for her. She always gets mixed up if you don’t.’
>
‘Of course,’ she agreed.
‘Bless you, Catherine.’
There was a small catch in Elizabeth’s voice, but as she walked away, she seemed her usual composed self, and Catherine shrugged a little. There was surely enough trouble without her imagining more.
That evening John took her home, a silent John who seemed to have gone cold and hard.
‘You heard what happened?’ he asked Catherine flatly.
‘Yes. I couldn’t help overhearing. John ... I don’t think you were to blame. It ... it was just an unfortunate misunderstanding.’
‘Thanks for the loyalty,’ he said dryly, ‘but it’s misplaced. No, I’m to blame all right. I should never have accepted the man merely because he was someone Mike Rodgers knew, and could vouch for.’
‘But Michael didn’t know him.’
There was silence for a moment.
‘No, he didn’t, did he?’ John’s voice was oddly strained. ‘I rather think I’m going to be busy over the next week or two.’
‘Doing what?’ she asked.
‘Recovering the money ... somehow.’
‘Do you think you could find the man again, and get your money back?’
‘Confidence men aren’t so easy to find. Well, here we are, home again.’
‘And I must see Aunt Lucille,’ Catherine told him. ‘It’s my turn to help her tonight. Elizabeth is going out with Michael.’
For a moment John sat very still, then he gave a short laugh and opened the car door.
‘Good luck to her, Kate. When Mother holds her committee meetings, I make myself scarce. They change their minds so often, I wouldn’t know where I was among them all. Still, that might be better than complete loyalty to one purpose ... if it’s misplaced.’