Now and Always

by Andrea Blake

  Jennifer did not see Neal again until the staff meeting on Monday evening. She thought he looked tired and rather drawn, and was glad he was having supper at Laureldene instead of going back to his flat or dining alone at the Crown.

  Neal told the meeting that while he was pleased with the efforts made to improve the window displays, he was still not entirely satisfied with them and felt that they needed to be changed more often. He also considered that putting in new windows was not a task for the salesmen. Under expert supervision, it could very well be done by the porters. For these reasons he had engaged a display specialist who would be starting work on Wednesday.

  It was not until after supper that Louise said, “Jennifer said there was something you wanted to discuss with me, Neal.”

  “Oh, yes, I have a favour to ask you. I’ve managed to get hold of another flat for Miss Merrick. But the place needs doing up and won’t be fit for her to move in until sometime next week. I wondered if you would be very kind and put her up here until the flat is ready?”

  “Of course we will. But who is Miss Merrick?” Louise asked, puzzled.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. She’s a display designer who is coming to work at the store. I could fix her up at a hotel, but it would be rather lonely for her and I don’t want her to take a dislike to Midchester. She’s always been a free-lance, but I’m hoping that we can keep her here permanently. She’s a nice girl. I don’t think you’ll find her any trouble.”

  “I’m sure we shan’t, and we’ll do our best to make her feel at home. When does she arrive?” Louise asked.

  “Some time on Wednesday evening. I’ll meet her at the station and bring her round.”

  “You must stay to supper with her. I’ll make something specially nice,” Louise promised.

  Neal left early, saying that he needed an early night.

  Jennifer went out to the car with him, and her heart skipped a beat when he said, “I was wondering if you would care to go to the Press Ball next Friday, Jenny? I know it’s not a good night for staying up late, but unfortunately most of the big dances are held on Fridays.”

  “Oh, Neal, I’d love to go. Thank you very much.”

  “It’s a date, then. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  She watched him drive away, not feeling the cold night air because of the glow he kindled inside her. The Press Ball was one of the liveliest of Midchester’s winter functions, and she had never been to a gala dance before. She would have to buy a dress ... something very special.

  She did not see Neal on Tuesday except when he came by her department on his daily round of the store. She spent her lunch hour scouring the dress shops for something to wear on Friday night. On Wednesday she found exactly what she wanted, a dress of filmy caramel chiffon with topaz-beaded shoulder straps and a very low back. It was ruinously expensive, but she knew she had to have it.

  Neal had telephoned Louise to tell her that Miss Merrick’s train reached Midchester at half-past seven and they would arrive at Laureldene about a quarter to eight.

  Louise was still busy in the kitchen when the bell rang, so Jennifer went to open the door.

  “This is Jennifer Alvery, Suzanne,” Neal said to the girl who was standing on the doorstep beside him. “Jenny ... Suzanne Merrick.”

  “How do you do, Miss Alvery? It’s terribly good of you and your mother to have me here.” The girl stepped into the hall and held out a slim gloved hand.

  “H-how do you do,” Jennifer stammered, taken aback.

  For she had seen Suzanne Merrick before. Now elegantly dressed in a camelhair suit with a mink scarf tucked into the collar and her hair hidden by a mink beret, Miss Merrick was the girl who, in a daring scarlet bikini, had been photographed with Neal on a sunlit beach.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I’LL show you straight to your room, Miss Merrick. I expect you would like a wash before supper,” Jennifer said, recovering herself.

  “Oh, yes, please. I’m absolutely filthy. I do so loathe travelling by train.”

  Suzanne’s voice was pleasantly low-pitched and soft, but she had a trick of emphasising words which Jennifer thought very affected.

  She led the way upstairs. Neal followed them with two pale blue fibreglass suitcases and a matching hatbox.

  “That is the bathroom, and this is your bedroom next to it,” Jennifer said, opening the door of the room where Neal had slept.

  “Thank you so much. I won’t be very long,” Suzanne promised.

  She came downstairs ten minutes later in a black cashmere shirt with enormous gilt sunburst cufflinks. There was a delectable aura of expensive woody scent surrounding her, and her thick straight hair had the blue-black sheen of a blackbird’s wing. She wore it in a fringe across her forehead, the sides cut precisely to chin level.

  “Mrs. Parker, I do appreciate your having me here. It really is most terribly sweet of you ... especially when you’ve never laid eyes on me.”

  “Not at all—we’re very glad to have you,” Louise assured her. “Now I’m sure you must be hungry. Let’s have supper at once, shall we?”

  Watching Suzanne during the meal, Jennifer realised that the older girl was not really beautiful, but that she achieved an impression of beauty by skilfully emphasising her two best features. Her eyes were a light brown colour and she made them seem almost golden by banding her long lashes with bronze liner. Her lips were too thin, but her bright scarlet lipstick drew attention to her perfect teeth. But while her looks owed a great deal to artifice, she was blessed with a naturally faultless figure. Her waist—cinched by a wide black crocodile belt—was tiny. But she had an excellent appetite and accepted a second helping of Louise’s lemon meringue pie without the guilty look of a woman who keeps her slenderness by dieting.

  “Mm ... delicious,” she said appreciatively. “I’m sure you must have spent the whole day slaving in the kitchen to make all these gorgeous things, Mrs. Parker. This pie is too blissful.”

  Louise looked pleased. “I’m very glad you like it, Miss Merrick.”

  “Oh, please, do call me Suzanne.”

  “By the way, Dawson is coming down again on Friday,” Neal said to Louise. “I want him to have a look at this land and see what he thinks might be done with it. You have no objection, I hope?”

  “No, of course not, Neal.”

  “What about you, Jennifer?” he asked, smiling.

  She laughed and shook her head. “Not this time.”

  “Is he staying overnight?” her mother asked. “Can we put him up?”

  “No, I’ve booked at the Crown for him. Suzanne is more than enough for you to cope with.”

  Suzanne grimaced at him. “Dear Neal... always so gallant. Look, I’m dying to see this apartment you’ve found for me. Could we go round there this evening?” She turned to Louise. “Would you mind, Mrs. Parker? I don’t want to seem rude—dashing out again within an hour of arriving—but I am rather keen to see what Neal has let me in for.”

  “Yes, do go, my dear. I quite understand,” Louise assured her.

  “What an attractive girl,” she said to Jennifer, after the other two had gone. “It will be nice for you to have her working at the store, dear. All the office staff are either teenagers or married women. You’ll have more in common with Suzanne.”

  ‘Yes ... Neal,’ Jennifer thought sardonically. She was certain that the reason Suzanne had come to Midchester was because she was interested in Neal. It was a conclusion based wholly on instinct, because there had been no overt evidence that Suzanne had designs on him, but she was sure she was right.

  Neal had said that they would be back within an hour, but it was after ten o’clock when the car returned. Suzanne came indoors by herself.

  “Neal asked me to say goodnight for him, and to thank you for supper, Mrs. Parker,” she said. “Now I’d better start unpacking my things, so I’ll say goodnight, too.”

  “Wouldn’t you like a hot drink?” Louise asked. “W
e usually have one about now.”

  “No, thank you. I had a nightcap at Neal’s place. Goodnight.”

  When there were no signs of life from their guest’s bedroom by a quarter to eight the following morning, Louise asked Jennifer to take a cup of tea up to her. There was no response to Jennifer’s knock on the door, so she concluded the older girl must still be asleep and went into the bedroom.

  Suzanne was lying on her back with her glossy hair spread out on the pillow and a black satin sleeping mask over her eyes. Jennifer had to give her a gentle shake to rouse her.

  “Oh, lord, is it madly late?” Suzanne asked, sitting up and pushing the mask back over her hair.

  “Nearly eight. We have to catch the twenty to nine bus.”

  As Jennifer had surmised, Suzanne looked very different without her make-up. Her eyes were puffy from sleep and her complexion, which had seemed so smooth and fresh the night before, now had a dull sallow cast.

  “Don’t you run a car?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

  “No, I’m afraid not. But it’s only a short ride into town, and the bus passes right outside Parkers.”

  Suzanne flung back the bedclothes, revealing a diaphanous black nylon nightdress. “Oh, God, my head!” she muttered, wincing. “I took a pill last night—I can never sleep in a strange bed—and they always give me a hangover.”

  “If you shout downstairs when you’re nearly dressed, I’ll start cooking your breakfast,” Jennifer said. “Will bacon and eggs be all right?”

  “Oh, nothing cooked, thanks. Just tea and toast. I never eat before ten.” Suzanne reached for her robe, an elegant housecoat of vivid coral velvet lined with quilted silk which made Jennifer resolve to buy a new dressing gown at once.

  When Suzanne came down at half-past eight she was wearing another cashmere shirt, a pale grey one this morning, with superbly cut grey hipster pants. An emerald silk kerchief was knotted round her throat, cowboy-style, and her skin had a youthful glow again.

  “My working kit,” she explained, seeing that Louise and Jennifer were surprised by her sports outfit. Tossing an emerald fur-lined anorak on one of the kitchen chairs, she ate a piece of toast, drank a second cup of tea, and announced herself ready to catch the bus.

  Jennifer did not see her during the day, although she had assumed they would lunch together. However, she did not mind this, as she wanted to snatch a quick snack and then spend the rest of her break buying a backless bra for her dance frock, and a pair of gold kid evening shoes.

  At ten minutes to six, Suzanne came to her office to say that she would not be coming back to Laureldene for supper.

  “Neal wants me to spend the evening with him so that we can discuss the Christmas displays,” she explained. “Your mother won’t mind, will she?” About my supper being wasted, I mean.”

  “She’s going out for the evening herself. I’m the cook tonight,” Jennifer told her.

  “Oh, good, then it won’t put her out. Well, see you later ... ’Bye.” Suzanne strolled away to the lift, leaving a drift of her subtle perfume on the air.

  Going home on the bus alone, Jennifer could not help feeling that Neal might have asked her to join him and Suzanne. He knew that Louise was dining with the Fletchers, because she had said so when he was with them on Monday night.

  Thinking of Suzanne at his flat—would he make his speciality, Spaghetti Bolognese, for her?—Jennifer felt a powerful thrust of jealousy.

  It was an emotion she had always despised in other people. But then she had never been in love before, and so she had not had cause to be jealous of anyone. Her one comfort was that, if Neal had more than a professional interest in the other girl, surely he would not have asked her to go to the Press Ball with him when he must have known at the time of his invitation that Suzanne would also be in Midchester.

  Thinking of the Ball the following night, and of having Neal’s arm around her as they danced together, Jennifer did not notice that the bus had passed her stop. She got off at the next one and walked back along the avenue to Laureldene.

  ‘I am in a state,’ she thought ruefully.

  Suzanne came home about ten and found Jennifer—who had thought it was Louise coming in—trying on her dance frock.

  “Jennifer! What a divine dress. Don’t tell me you got that in Midchester,” she exclaimed admiringly, stopping in the doorway on her way to her own room.

  “Yes, I did. It is rather nice, isn’t it? Could you unhook me, Suzanne, please?”

  “What is it for? Something very special, I imagine.”

  “The Midchester Press Ball tomorrow night.”

  “Lucky you. Who is your partner? Someone blissful?”

  Jennifer hesitated. “Neal is taking me.”

  If Suzanne was unpleasantly surprised, she did not betray it.

  “Oh, then you’ll have a marvellous time. Neal looks superb in evening kit, and he dances well, too. All the other girls will be green, sweetie,” she said laughingly. “Do you mind if I stay and gossip for a bit? ... or are you just off to bed?”

  “No, not yet. Let’s go downstairs and I’ll make some coffee,” Jennifer suggested.

  Perhaps she had been wrong about Suzanne. Perhaps she had misjudged the older girl as completely as she had once misjudged Neal.

  Suzanne had gone to bed but Jennifer was still downstairs when Colonel Fletcher brought her mother home. Going out into the hall after she had heard them say goodnight and the front door closing, Jennifer was shocked to see her mother leaning against the front door with her eyes closed and her brows contracted as if from pain.

  “Mummy! ...What’s the matter? Are you ill?” she exclaimed concernedly.

  Louise jumped. “Oh, you’re still up, dear. I thought you would be in bed by now as you’re going to the Ball tomorrow. Is there any coffee going?”

  “I’ll make some. Darling, what was the matter just now? You looked ready to drop.”

  “Oh, nonsense, dear. I’m just a little tired, that’s all,” her mother said hurriedly, walking into the kitchen.

  “Did you have a nice evening?” Jennifer asked.

  “Yes, very nice. Colonel Fletcher gave me a chess lesson.”

  Louise sat down at the table.

  “Mummy, you aren’t feeling well. It’s quite obvious,” Jennifer said worriedly, recognising the signs which her mother was trying so hard to conceal from her. “Look, you go up and hop into bed, and I’ll bring you a hot bottle and some Horlicks.”

  Reluctantly, her mother capitulated.

  “Well, yes, perhaps I will,” she agreed wearily. “As a matter of fact I think one of my wretched migraines is coming on. I can’t focus properly.”

  “Then off you go at once. I’ll bring you some aspirins as well.”

  Pouring milk into a saucepan and lighting the small burner, Jennifer wondered what could possibly have brought on one of her mother’s prostrating sick headaches.

  Louise had begun to suffer from migraine about two years after her second marriage. She had had periodic attacks ever since, and it was very clear that the root of the trouble was the intense nervous stress of her life with Wilfred Parker. But now the long years of strain were over and done with, and Jennifer could not understand why her mother should be suffering from a recurrence of her old trouble.

  The next morning, however, she found Louise had risen at her usual early hour and appeared to be completely recovered.

  “Are you sure the pain has gone?” she asked anxiously. “If you still feel muzzy you must go back to bed, Mummy. I can look after Suzanne.”

  “No, I’m perfectly all right today, Jenny. It was just an ordinary headache. Perhaps I shouldn’t have had a second glass of Colonel Fletcher’s brandy. It never has agreed with me, but as it was a bottle of 1906 Bonaparte cognac which he had opened specially for me, I didn’t like to refuse.”

  Suzanne came down at eight o’clock. Today she was wearing a white tweed suit over a black silk blouse with pie-frills at the neck and cuff
s. Her shoes and bag were made of what looked like real black crocodile skin, and she was carrying a rakish black bowler with a white cockade on one side.

  “My best bib and tucker today,” she said gaily, seating herself at the breakfast table. “Neal is busy this morning, so he’s deputed me to take Conrad out to lunch before he brings him up here. You’ve met Con, haven’t you, Jennifer? I think he’s rather a dream.”

  Jennifer hid her amazement. She had liked Mr. Dawson very much, but she would never have described him as ‘a dream’ or imagined that Suzanne would think so. He was a rather short man, but powerfully built, and with a very relaxed and engaging personality. When Jennifer had met him he had been wearing a baggy tweed suit and odd socks, and he had smoked the most evil-smelling tobacco which had ever assailed her nostrils. He had not been at all in keeping with her conception of a brilliant architect, and the last man in the world she would have expected to appeal to a girl like Suzanne.

  During the morning, when Neal came round on his customary inspection, he waited until Jennifer had finished serving a customer and beckoned her into her office.

  “It was a pity you couldn’t make it last night. My spaghetti was a masterpiece,” he said smilingly. “However, I suppose you were busy getting ready for this evening. The dance starts at eight, but I doubt if there’ll be many people there before nine. I’ll come for you about half-past eight ... all right?”

  Jennifer managed to smile.

  “I’ll be ready,” she promised.

  When he had gone on his way, she sat down at her desk, her hazel eyes bright with repressed anger. So her instinct had been right! Suzanne was chasing Neal—and obviously she had no scruples about disposing of anyone whom she thought might be in competition with her.

  ‘Neal must have told her to invite me to have supper with them last night, and she deliberately neglected to pass on his message,’ Jennifer thought fiercely. ‘She must be furious that he’s taking me to the dance tonight. But she can’t put a spoke in that wheel.’