It was crowded, but a cheerful girl directed them to a corner table. She clearly knew Justin. Justin equally clearly knew the menu.
`The burgers are nearly as good as the music,' he said, leaning back in his chair and watching Candy. His eyes were warm. 'But have what you want.'
She looked down at the gingham tablecloth, suddenly confused.
`I—I'm not a connoisseur of burgers.'
It sounded horridly prim. Well-behaved Candy was back again, it seemed. She was furious with herself. But she didn't know how to reverse the crippling self-consciousness.
Justin didn't seem to notice. 'Then this is where you start.' He gave the order. 'And I'll think about wine.' The waitress nodded. 'I'll come back.'
Candy said impulsively, 'You don't look as if you'd be a connoisseur of burgers either.'
He looked up from the wine list. 'Are you complaining about my age or my attitude?' He sounded amused again.
In spite of her self-consciousness, she smiled. `Neither. I was thinking more of the three-piece suit.' He grimaced. 'Jungle camouflage.'
His eyes rested briefly on the emerald and gold choker she wore. It felt as if he had reached out and touched her there at the base of her throat. She put up a hand to the jewel, feeling herself tense.
But he was saying thoughtfully. 'Not unlike your own, I suspect. Maybe even the same jungle.'
Candy was startled. His eyes were steady, a faint question in their depths. The silence between them lengthened until she could hardly bear it. Her eyes fell.
The steady beat of the band beat through her like a pulse, calming her.
She said in her best social manner, 'You think of my mother's cocktail party as a jungle?'
Justin shrugged. 'Maybe not. But you certainly do. I've never seen a girl look so scared. Why on earth go, if you hate the things so much?'
She gasped. The social manner fell away.
`What do you mean?'
`What I say,' he said, bored. 'I don't waste time saying things I don't mean.'
'Is that a health warning?' she challenged.
He gave her another of those unnervingly silent looks. `If you like,' he said softly at last.
Candy shivered. 'It sounds as if you're trying to intimidate me.'
Justin looked surprised. 'The opposite.'
She thought about that, frowning. 'You mean you want to reassure me?'
The strange eyes glinted. 'That's not the way I'd have put it.'
`Then what?'
`Maybe—invite you to have a little more courage?' he hazarded.
She stared at him The drums beat. Suddenly she grinned. 'You want to put a bit of backbone into me,' she said at last. 'That's what my granny was always saying.'
Justin's eyebrows flew up. 'A forthright lady.'
`Yes, she was. I miss her.' Candy bit her lip. 'She was my father's mother. She didn't have much patience with either of my parents, I'm afraid. She more or less brought me up, you know.'
`I know nothing about you at all,' Justin said softly. `Except that you're Leslie Neilson's daughter. And you expect to be eaten alive at parties.'
`It's a reasonable start,' Candy said wryly.
He leaned back in the bentwood chair and looked at her. All around them the diners laughed and the waiters sped in professional breathlessness. There was the clink of glasses, the steady thrum of the band—and the silence between them. It was like a spider's web, intricate, fragile, barely perceptible. And dangerous, thought Candy with a superstitious shiver.
A waiter paused at Justin's shoulder.
Rioja,' he said, not taking his eyes off Candy. The waiter made a note and moved off.
`Dance with me,' Justin said.
Candy jumped. The band was producing a complicated syncopated rhythm which the mellow sax made deceptively melting.
`I don't really —er—'
But he was on his feet, his eyes amused.
`Aren't you a connoisseur of dancing either? Stick with me and I'll give you a few hints,' he said with a soft laugh.
Like a mesmerised creature, Candy stood up and put her hand in his. With his fingers loosely linked with her own, he guided her through the indifferent crowd.
The dance-floor was bigger than she had thought. The dancers, too, were a surprise—skinny schoolboys dancing like electric eels, middle-aged black matrons who moved as if they were part of the music, and every age, condition and dress in between. Nobody so much as glanced at them.
Justin took her in his arms. She could smell a faint hint of some woody fragrance as she rested her cheek against his jacket. He moved easily, his whole body turning and responding to the music, taking her with him To her astonishment, Candy began to feel the tension ebb away. She was even enjoying herself.
He rested his chin on the top of her head. 'Tell me about granny.'
They were swaying lazily in perfect unison.
Candy smiled into his chest. 'She was a Tartar. Hugely independent. She never let my father give her much. She lived in the house she'd been married in till the day she died. She said he used money like Valium—to stop him thinking.' She sighed. 'She always wanted me to get away. She said I feather-bedded my mother.'
Justin's face moved against her hair. Candy's pulse fluttered.
`And do you?' he asked.
She tipped her head back. In the heavy coloured lights of the dance-floor, spirals of smoke were drifting upwards. They looked like the curls from a hundred genie's lamps, Candy thought. She felt light-headed, unlike herself. It was a new sensation—and exhilarating. Her shoulders were moving in rhythm to the infectious beat.
`Perhaps,' she said dreamily.
Justin looked down at her. In the action-painted shadows his expression was oddly grave.
`Does your father treat you the way he treats his paintings?' he asked abruptly.
She shook her head slowly. 'Don't understand.'
His voice was very soft. 'Safe from thieves. Not loved.'
`Oh. Like that.' After a moment, Candy nodded. 'I suppose he does.' She smiled at him brilliantly. 'He thinks a lot about burglars. We have locks and bars all over the house.'
For a moment he held one long, lean hand to the side of her face, holding her whole length against him. They were barely moving their feet but their shoulders swayed in time to the whispery music.
Justin said, 'I don't like locks and bars.'
Candy watched his mouth shape the words. She thought, I wonder if we'll still keep dancing while we kiss? She reached up and touched her lips to his. He was smiling. She could feel it. She thought muzzily, This is wonderful. Why have I never done this before?
And then it hit her like a cold shower—she was in the middle of a dance-floor, twining herself round a man in the way she had seen and been amazed by in other girls at the dances her mother made her go to. A man, moreover, whom her mother had told her was Sir Leslie's implacable rival.
She stopped dead. For a moment the light touch on her spine tightened. Then she was released. Justin looked down at her.
`Suddenly remembered you're hungry?' he asked her, that smile in his voice.
It was an alibi. But Candy was nothing if not honest. `Backbone ran out,' she said sadly.
For a moment he hesitated. Then he gave a single nod.
`Ah. Well, it was probably time to disentangle anyway.'
It was perfectly friendly, perfectly casual. It could not have been more obvious that it was no big deal for sophisticated Justin Richmond. Candy was grateful for the cavernous lighting as he led the way back to their table. Her expression would have given her away. She was shaken to her depths.
He seated her, and the waiter returned with food and wine. She looked at Justin under her lashes.
What was there about him? The powerful attraction, of course. He was no boy—the experience showed in the handsome, cynical face. But he looked as if he had the controlled strength of an athlete. It was there in the way he danced. Even under the formal city suit it was unmistakabl
e. And he had the most laughing eyes of any man she had ever met. It was all too easy to let down your guard under those warm brown eyes. They seemed to invite you to share the joke that the rest of the world wasn't quick enough to pick up.
He also had the ability to cut the ground from under her with his patient silences. She set her teeth. There was only one way to deal with it. It was not easy, with those thoughtful brown eyes on her, but she, in her turn, preserved silence.
Eventually Justin Richmond drew a sharp breath. The brown eyes narrowed and grew considerably less warm. It was faintly disconcerting, as if he had dropped a mask.
He said almost briskly, 'How old are you?'
Candy almost jumped.
`Twenty-two,' she replied involuntarily.
Hmm Why aren't you married?'
Her eyes flared. There were so many reasons, and she wasn't prepared to share any of them with this dangerous, unpredictable man
`It's not obligatory.'
`True. But it's a way of getting away from the nest. It usually appeals to nicely brought up young ladies like you better than a career, too,' he said dispassionately.
Candy was outraged. Then she gave a little choke of laughter.
`Unfortunately it isn't that easy to fall in love to order. Or I probably would have married by now,' she retorted coolly.
His mouth curled. 'Love isn't essential.'
That flicked her on the raw. She had tried, she had really tried, to keep an open mind when her mother urged ... And it was awful. The only man who didn't terrify her was Dave. Whom she loved.
She said sharply, 'Of course it is.'
Justin seemed interested. 'You think so? Why?' `Well—er—' she floundered, not prepared for this '—without love, it's cheating.'
Justin was amused. 'I don't see why. As long as it was clear and mutually agreed from the start, who would be cheated?'
She shook her head slowly. 'It's—wrong.'
The brown eyes sharpened. 'Moral objections?' He sounded incredulous.
Candy bit her lip. 'Marriage is ... oh, I don't know, maybe it's too important. Too deep to turn into some sort of masquerade.'
He put his elbows on the table and cupped his hands round the glass. The wine looked like blood, she thought.
He looked alert and interested and about as involved as if he were debating the fat stock prices.
`Explain.'
She marshalled her thoughts, and said carefully, `Marriage doesn't work for a lot of people. I know that it's hell when it goes wrong. But they—most people—go into it in good faith. If we—I—didn't—I'd feel I was letting everyone down. Not necessarily everyone I know. But everyone else who tries to make a marriage work—even if they don't succeed.' She looked at him unhappily. She sounded like a prig again. 'Do you understand?'
There was another, longer pause. Candy's eyes fell. She could feel herself flushing, even while she thought stubbornly, I believe that. I've never said it before, but that's what I really believe. That's why I so hated Tom kissing me and ...
She looked up. Justin was regarding her with an arrested expression. She shifted uncomfortably. But as soon as their eyes met his face changed, all expression smoothed out of it.
`And you'd think of it as cheating. Yes, I see.' He sounded almost absent. He looked down at his glass. 'It won't be easy...'
Candy thought she must have misheard him. `I'm sorry?'
`Eat your burger,' he said, not attending. 'What about boyfriends?'
`What?'
He chuckled. 'Why aren't there any?'
Candy stiffened. 'How do you know there aren't?'
`Because if there were you wouldn't have been standing in that doorway scared to death and all on your own tonight.'
She winced. If only Dave had seen what this man had seen and come with her! Justin reached out across the
table and covered her tense, drumming fingers with a warm hand.
`If you were mine,' he said softly, 'you wouldn't have been scared. And you wouldn't have been alone.'
She sat very still. It was like being on the edge of a precipice with no idea of how you got there. She tore her hand away. 'I don't know what you mean.'
He sat back, smiling. 'Yes, you do.'
She stared at him. Although he didn't try to touch her again, she felt as if he was pulling her towards him. It was like Tom all over again: a little wine, a little music, the odd heightened atmosphere that was supposed to make her lose her inhibitions and then ... and then ... Only that long body would be stronger than Tom's. And, unlike Tom, Justin Richmond wasn't afraid of her complaining to her father. Candy began to shake inside.
Oh, Dave, where are you when I need you?
When she got home Candy went to her own room and called the Centre.
Dave Tresilian answered at once. He stayed in the office, manning it and taking calls from the other services as well as the down-and-outs themselves.
`Homeless Centre. May I help you?'
She felt the tension go out of her.
`Dave? Candy.'
His voice warmed at once. 'Hello, love. How was the party?'
`Grimish. I was detailed to neutralise the enemy. So
I had to take him away. We had burgers and danced.' He laughed. It didn't make her feel any better. He
obviously had no interest in the identity of her escort. `It's a hard life for some.'
`It is,' Candy agreed fervently. `Dave—'
`Yes?'
But she didn't know what to say to him. Except, Help me—which he thought he was already doing, by taking
her on to his voluntary staff. Or, Love me—which was out of the question.
He wished her an affectionate goodnight. Candy carried it to bed with her.
Which meant that it was all the odder that the last thing she remembered before she drifted off into sleep wasn't his voice but Justin Richmond's.
He was saying, 'It won't be easy.'
CHAPTER TWO
CANDY was still turning that enigmatic remark over in her head when she went downstairs the following morning. But what she saw in the kitchen pulled her up short. Justin Richmond flew out of her head as if he had never been there.
The work surfaces were stacked with glasses and plates from last night's party, clean and ready to be put away. Maria was standing in front of the coffee-machine, watching it percolate as if her life depended on it. And in the middle of the kitchen, with empty hands and a queer, blank expression on her face, sat Judith.
She looked up. Candy had the feeling that she was not really seeing her.
Judith said, 'Your father's gone.' She sounded exhausted. 'He was very angry.'
Candy said quietly, 'It's all right, Maria. I'll deal with coffee.'
Looking relieved, Maria went.
`What happened?'
Judith stared at her hands for a moment. 'I've been gambling,' she said at last.
Candy stared at her. 'Gambling? What ... when?'
`In the beginning Molly Stapleton took me. It's a club. You play in the afternoon.' She sounded faintly proud of this surprising, knowledge.
`Mrs Stapleton,' said Candy grimly, 'is as rich as
Croesus and hasn't anything better to do with her time.' `Have I?' demanded Judith on a flash of feeling. Candy stared, shocked.
Her mother caught herself. 'Oh, I'm sorry, darling. I shouldn't have said that. It's just that with you out so much these days—and your father away such a lot—life has seemed a bit empty, somehow. Boring. And roulette was exciting.'
Candy was shaken. She had no idea her mother had been feeling like this. Her inconvenient conscience stirred.
`And now he's found out, has he? Pops?' she asked gently.
`Don't call him that,' Judith said automatically. 'You know he hates it.'
Candy was angry suddenly. 'What's he got to complain about? What else does he do but gamble, with all these companies he buys and sells and hasn't a clue about what they do?'
`He,' said her mother
miserably, 'pays for them. I didn't. Or at least, not lately. I ran out of money around Christmas. I knew the cheques would bounce. But I didn't seem able to stop.'
`Oh, my God,' said Candy, realising the full impact that this would have on her father. `Scandalissimo.'
Judith gave a harsh laugh. 'Absolutely. He got a letter from the bank manager this morning. He said I was no good for anything except wasting money, and he wasn't coming back. And he doesn't even know the worst part yet.'
Candy closed her eyes. 'There's more?' she asked in a carefully neutral voice.
`Yes. The cheques were sent back to the club. They rang me at once, and I said there'd been an oversight. I don't know if they believed me. But one of the people in the office thought it was a good story—you know: NEWSPAPER MAGNATE'S WIFE WRITES DUD CHEQUES. So he took it ...'
`No,' said Candy, standing up in horror.
`To Richmond newspapers,' concluded Judith. And began to laugh.
Candy coaxed her mother out of hysterics and then called her doctor. When he came it was plain that he already knew about the gambling debts.
`I gather your father's not here,' he said, writing his prescription at the eighteenth-century desk.
Candy saw no point in pretending. 'Mother thinks he's gone permanently.'
The doctor did not comment. 'She seems to think she's let him down. And you too. Said something about always having been a burden. About you hating her..
Candy shook her head dumbly.
`Well, someone had better have a word with your father. Preferably,' the doctor added, snapping his case shut, 'someone who isn't afraid of him.'
`I'll do it,' she agreed.
The conversation was terse.
`Your mother told you?' Sir Leslie asked, as soon as Candy announced herself.
`Yes.'
`Stupid woman. I've had enough. She's wasted millions. She can get out of this one on her own.'
`Thank you very much for your support,' Candy murmured.
`Don't take that tone with me,' her father rapped. `Silly bitch goes from one mess to another. And if you'd spent more time with her it wouldn't have happened. Not a lot to ask, is it? No proper job, won't come into the business. The least you could do is make sure your mother doesn't make an ass of herself. But no, you're off on some mystery tour of your own, only home to eat and sleep. If she gets into bad company and her
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