Makeshift Marriage

by Marjorie Lewty

  'Yes?' she said brightly.

  'You could come out to Hong Kong with me on this assignment.'

  'Oh!' That took her completely by surprise. 'Well, I— my parents, you see—' She was wondering quite desperately how she could reasonably change her mind. There was nothing, now, to stop her going with him, working with him, seeing him every day. And yet she had refused so definitely and made out such a good case for refusing. What an impulsive idiot she had been! She could have wept.

  He was watching her face intently. Then he said, 'I could think of one way of getting you out there. If we were married, your parents couldn't very well object, could they?'

  'Married?' Her head jerked back and her mouth fell a little open. 'Did you say married! But we couldn't—you couldn't! You don't love me.'

  His mouth twisted grimly. 'I can hardly deny that, after this afternoon's little episode. But does love matter all that much? You don't love me either. We get along splendidly together and we work as one person, as you very well know. It seems such a pity to waste all that. Maybe—' he smiled and to Maggie his smile looked positively ghoulish—'maybe we would wake up one morning and find we'd fallen in love!'

  She could think of nothing to say or do except to throw her arms round him and tell him she loved him already, that she'd been crazy about him for ages and ages. She could just imagine his horror if she did. No, this was something she had to handle carefully, she thought, trying to pull her scattered wits together. One false slip and the whole dazzling picture that was taking shape before her eyes would dissolve into nothingness.

  Blake said, 'There isn't anyone else, is there? You'd have told me.'

  She shook her head dumbly. Nobody that mattered. There was Nicholas Grant, the Corporation's head architect, who had asked her out to dinner once or twice. He was an older man, pleasant, easy to talk to, divorced about a year ago. Sometimes Maggie had wondered whether their occasional dates were leading up to anything more, but she wouldn't have considered marrying Nicholas when she was in love with Blake.

  'Well then—' urged Blake and now there was a strange, hard, almost reckless note in his voice. 'How about it Maggie? Shall we try and make a go of it together?'

  She still hesitated, frowning, pretending to consider. Then she looked up and met his grey-green eyes, and they were gleaming just as they did when he had come up with a brilliant solution to some difficult problem in his work. She grinned as if they were sharing a good joke. 'I'll risk it if you will,' she said, and didn't know whether she was being given a passport to heaven or signing her own death warrant.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Blake held out his hand. 'Shake, partner,' he invited with a twisted grin. Maggie put her hand in his and felt a tingle run right up her arm. She suddenly realised that although they had been working together all this time Blake had never before touched her deliberately, and now the feel of his skin, cool and hard against hers, was terribly disturbing.

  He released her hand casually. 'That's settled, then. Tomorrow we'll break the glad news. Meanwhile, you'd better have this.' He felt in his pocket and brought out the huge diamond cluster ring he had shown her yesterday. 'Let's see if it fits,' he said carelessly, reaching for her left hand.

  She recoiled as if he were offering her a cup of poison. 'N-no,' she stammered. 'Not that one. It—it wouldn't suit me at all.'

  He raised his dark eyebrows impatiently. 'How do you know when you haven't tried it on?'

  She stared down at the diamonds, glittering in the overhead light. This was the ring he had bought for Fiona with such loving anticipation. How could he pass it on to her so casually? She had never suspected Blake of being sentimental, but this was too much altogether.

  'It's not my sort of ring at all,' she insisted, feeling almost physically sick at the thought of wearing the ring he had chosen for another girl. 'I'd rather have something—something plainer.'

  He lifted her hand and looked down at the slim, brown, useful-looking fingers. He shrugged. 'You're probably right. You'd better go along tomorrow and choose one you like. I'll give you a note for Garrard's.'

  He might have been telling her to order a load of hardcore, she thought dispiritedly, but immediately took herself to task. She mustn't expect more from Blake than he had offered. In fact, she mustn't expect anything at all from him, other than their usual friendly business partnership. She must take things as they came. Perhaps he would forget Fiona in time—men did forget women more easily than the other way round, she had heard. Then her chance might come.

  'O.K.,' she said calmly, 'I'll do that. I promise not to break your bank account,' she added flippantly, and then wished she hadn't.

  His face darkened. 'Oh, for Pete's sake don't come the frugal little wife already!' he burst out irritably. 'I can't take that sort of thing.'

  'All right, I won't,' she said cheerfully. 'I'm sure I can be as extravagant as the next girl. Just don't faint when you get the bill, that's all.'

  Blake was looking round the sitting room and she could see that he had already lost interest in the subject. 'Mind if I kip down here for the remainder of the night?' He nodded towards the sofa, which Maggie had already-extended to make into a bed. 'Seems hardly worth while turning out again.' His mouth twisted. 'It's permissible, surely, how that we're respectably engaged.'

  'I expect so,' she said shortly. She hoped he would soon stop infusing irony into everything he said to her. 'I'll get you some blankets.'

  She turned to the door into the bedroom, but suddenly he was there before her. He put both hands on her arms and looked down into her face. 'Put up with me for a while, Maggie dear,' he said. 'I'm asking a lot of you, but one day I'll make it up to you somehow. Just give me time.'

  She smiled at him, and if he had been in the mood to look hard at her he might have been surprised by the blazing message of love in her face. She turned away quickly. 'All right,' she said lightly. 'I'll hold you to that.'

  Blake was stretched out on the sofa when she came back with the blankets. It was warm in the flat on this June night, and she threw one blanket loosely over him. He opened his eyes as if it hurt to do so. ' 'Night, Maggie,' he murmured, and closed them again. She saw that he was almost asleep again already.

  'Goodnight, Blake.' She touched his dark, unruly hair and then bent impulsively and rubbed her cheek against it, smelling the astringent scent of the cologne he always used. It gave her an odd, tingling sense of intimacy.

  He didn't stir, and she went into her bedroom and closed the door. She sat at the dressing table, staring at herself in the mirror and trying to come to terms with the situation. Would Blake have changed his mind in the morning in the cold light of day, when he was completely sober? And if he hadn't—if, for the sake of his career and the work they were doing together, he still wanted to marry her, would he ever love her? Would she ever see him look at her as he had looked at Fiona, as if she were the most precious thing in the whole world?

  Certainly she couldn't hope to compete with Fiona where looks were concerned. She stared critically at her reflection. Curly light brown hair, soft brown eyes (one young man who had cherished a romantic yearning for her in her teens had called them 'eyes like wallflowers in the rain', which had made her giggle); a fine skin that tanned smoothly but at the moment was pale because she had been working too hard to get out in the sunshine; a mouth that curved so easily into a smile that people were inclined to overlook the firmness of the small, square chin below it.

  No, she decided sanely, no man would ever be dazzled by her looks. But Blake had once said she was pretty, and no doubt her appearance could be improved. When she was Blake's wife (if she was Blake's wife, she amended, for as yet she couldn't quite believe it) she would presumably have more time to spend on her appearance, and more incentive to look nice for him.

  Blake's wife! Second-best, of course, but she didn't care, she would take him on any terms whatever. She slid out of her clothes, creamed her face carefully and cleaned her teeth even more thor
oughly than usual. As she slipped under the bedcover she thought she was too excited to go to sleep, but oddly enough she began to feel drowsy almost immediately. Her last waking thought was, 'Please don't let him change his mind. Please let it come true!'

  In the days that followed it looked as if her prayer had been answered, because Blake showed no sign of changing his mind. Neither did he show any signs of being heartbroken. Only Maggie knew that behind the unflagging energy and almost frenetic drive with which he threw himself into his work was a desperate need to drain himself of feeling. He was like a man who has closed the door on a forbidden dream and was exerting all his energy to keep it closed.

  Everyone was delighted when the engagement was announced. Maggie's father, who was in the construction industry himself and had had amicable business dealings with John Morden, showed his pleasure in a practical manner by presenting Maggie with a substantial cheque 'to go on a shopping spree.' Maggie's mother, a tiny, soft-spoken woman who didn't look capable of coping with the upbringing of three hefty sons and a tomboy daughter, but had managed it extremely successfully, was over the moon. 'A wedding at last!' she rejoiced gleefully. 'A real wedding that I can organise myself. Boys are a total loss in that respect.' All three of her sons were married—two of the weddings had been at register offices, much to Mrs Webster's disgust, and the other son had been married out in New Zealand, where he was working at the time. 'What a blessing it is to have a daughter! We must go and see the vicar tomorrow if the wedding is to be inside a month. You can't start too soon if you want things to run smoothly. Now I shall go and write some letters and spread the good news.'

  She kissed Maggie with tears in her eyes. 'My darling girl, I can't tell you how happy I am for you. Blake Morden's a splendid young man, your father has always said. You must bring him to supper tomorrow, so that I can get to know him better.'

  Blake had pulled a very rueful face at the prospect of a church wedding, but he agreed with fairly good grace when Maggie said, 'I can't deny Mother the thrill, and she hates the idea of a register office.'

  'And what about you?' Blake had questioned her in the ironic voice he kept for the subject. 'Do you long for the blessing of the higher powers upon our union?'

  'Yes, I do,' Maggie said quietly. 'I think it will make it seem more real.'

  He eyed her curiously. 'It doesn't seem real to you yet?'

  'No, I'm afraid it doesn't.' She shook her head.

  For once he was giving her his full attention. He said slowly, 'I'm being a selfish bastard in offering you such a bad bargain, Maggie. You deserve something better than a makeshift marriage.' His brow was creased suddenly into a row of furrows. 'Are you sure you still want to go through with it?'

  Panic shook her. Was he leading up to calling it off? But she managed to keep her voice placid as she replied. 'Oh yes, I don't like changing my mind once I've decided on something. I hate an anticlimax.'

  He smiled and she felt comforted that he didn't pursue the subject. Evidently he had no regrets, and nobody but she herself was aware of his lack of enthusiasm for their impending wedding. To everyone else he was a happy man, and if he seemed less than eager to accept invitations to the usual celebration parties, it could be explained by the fact that the couple were flying out to the Far East for their honeymoon, after which Blake was starting on an important new project there, and that he was wildly busy getting through the preliminary work.

  That went for Maggie too. Blake heaped the work on her and she thought rather wryly that he was certainly getting his money's worth. Meetings—long reports— telephone calls out to Hong Kong at all hours of the night—and sometimes even in the middle of the night. On the nights she slept at home she plugged the phone in beside her bed, and when her mother demurred that she would be tired out, she grinned and said that Hong Kong wouldn't change its time-zone to suit her.

  In between, she managed shopping trips with her mother, and tried to believe that this was a real marriage and that Blake would be interested in what she was buying. Sometimes she almost managed to believe it. It was fun buying all the pretty, light dresses she would be needing, and only when her mother started talking about honeymoon nighties did she feel hollow inside, realising that she hadn't the faintest idea whether Blake would want to make it a real honeymoon or not. He hadn't even mentioned that side of it, and she wasn't brave enough to ask him. So she submitted to her mother's happy suggestions of chiffons and wisps of silk in delicate pastel colours, and tried not to think too much about the occasions when she would wear them.

  The weeks slipped past and the wedding preparations, under Mrs Webster's capable direction, went on without a hitch. Invitations were sent out, presents started to arrive at the big family house in Amersham, caterers were booked. Maggie, still living at her flat in London, to be near the office, went home as often as she could manage, but by and large she was happy to leave everything to her mother, who was enjoying it all so enormously.

  A fortnight before the date of the wedding Maggie had her first fitting for her wedding dress. 'Do you think it's quite me?' she asked her mother with a doubtful grin, touching the delicate ivory silk lace with one brown, square-tipped finger.

  'Of course it is, my darling,' Mrs Webster assured her, with an encouraging little hug. 'You'll look beautiful, and Blake will be more in love with you than ever.' Maggie thought very wryly that that shouldn't be difficult, as he wasn't in love with her at all. But nobody must know that, except Blake and herself.

  It was arranged that there should be two bridesmaids, the young daughters of Maggie's eldest brother, James, who was bringing his family down from Scotland for the wedding. Mrs Webster had long telephone conversations with her Scottish daughter-in-law, Catriona, about the girls' dresses, and it was finally decided that they should wear shell-pink organdie. 'They'll look simply adorable in pink, with their dark hair,' Mrs Webster enthused to Maggie. 'And I think it would be a lovely touch to have one or two very pale pink rosebuds among the cream ones in your bouquet.'

  Maggie's middle brother, David, was stationed in London at present, so his attendance with his wife Lucy presented no problem. But the greatest thrill of all was when a phone call came from New Zealand announcing that Ian, the youngest brother, had decided to bring forward his leave and fly home with his wife for the occasion. That, of course, made Mrs Webster's happiness complete.

  'All my family together again!' She sobbed tears of joy into her handkerchief, and Maggie hugged her and shared her pleasure. It would be wonderful to see Ian and Joyce again.

  Sometimes Maggie sat in her bedroom at night and stared at the square-cut emerald on her engagement finger (the ring she had chosen by herself, and which she considered suited her slim, capable hand) and wondered if it were all part of some complicated dream. Her relationship with Blake was much the same as it had always been, that of friends and colleagues, and it was almost impossible to believe that in a few days' time she would be. his wife. Neither of them spoke of the events of the day that Fiona had got married. It would have been nice to infer that he was getting over it, Maggie thought, but she knew he wasn't. Blake had changed; he was throwing himself headlong into his work, but when he wasn't working there were lines of strain around his mouth, and his temper was more than usually erratic, although he never lost his temper with Maggie herself.

  Maggie went on working at the office, and it looked as if she would be working up to the very last moment. She and Blake were leaving for Hong Kong immediately after the reception and all the loose ends of the contract had to be tied up before then. To make matters more complicated, Blake had to fly to New York unexpectedly, to iron out some snags that had arisen with one of their sub-contractors there, and his absence left even more for Maggie to cope with. She had J.M. to consult, of course, if she was in doubt, but he was deeply involved with plans for a new factory to be built in East Anglia, and wasn't always available.

  Three days before the wedding, however, he returned from a trip to Ipswich
and, finding Maggie still at the office at seven o'clock, insisted on her calling it a day and going out to dinner with him.

  He took her to his favourite restaurant in the City, and they ate mixed grills and J.M. ordered a bottle of Chablis, and they talked of the Hong Kong contract.

  'It's one of the biggest things we've undertaken, Maggie, as you well know. Fascinating, because the buildings will be partly on reclaimed land. It's amazing, when you come to think of it, how it's possible to flatten a good-sized hill and just dump it into the sea and then build on it. But you know all about that yourself, of course.'

  'Only in theory. I can't wait to see how it works in practice.' Maggie's brown eyes were sparkling, her cheeks a little flushed with the good food and wine, and J.M. thought complacently what a wise fellow his son was to pick a pretty, intelligent girl like Maggie Webster.

  They had finished dinner and were lingering over coffee and liqueurs. J.M. lit a large cigar and beamed on Maggie. 'A real working wife, you're going to be, my girl, and a treasure to my son.' He smiled his broad, twinkling smile. 'Blake knew what he was doing when he chose you for a wife. You mustn't let him work you too hard, though. He's a demon when he really gets his teeth into a job.'

  Maggie nodded. 'Don't I know it? And he's really keen on this one.'

  The Chairman puffed thoughtfully at his cigar for a while and then leaned forward confidentially. 'You know, my dear, I was scared stiff Blake was going to make a fool of himself over that Deering woman, but I should have had more confidence in his good sense. He's sowed a few wild oats, I grant you that, but he knew when the time had come to settle down. He takes after his dad.' He chuckled. 'I had an eye for a pretty girl myself when I was a young man, but once I married my dear wife there was never any other woman in my life. We had thirty years together,' he mused. 'Thirty good years.'