by Andrea Blake
This time Jennifer did not hesitate. “Why not?” she said gaily, smiling at him.
At ten o’clock the next morning, she was busy in her office when Neal appeared in the doorway.
“Good morning,” she said brightly. “Do you like the new mosaics, or didn’t you notice them?”
“Yes, I like them very much. They’re most unusual. Jenny, will you lunch with me today?” he asked.
“I’m afraid I can’t, Neal. I’m going to a party tonight and I’ve got to fly round the shops and find something to wear. Perhaps next week ... oh, excuse me, there’s a customer waiting.”
At lunchtime she bought a low-backed black crepe cocktail dress and a pair of long gilt tassel ear-rings.
The Fletchers were taking Louise to an Australian wine-tasting reception at Midchester Town Hall that evening. When Jennifer told her mother that she, too, would be going out, Louise merely said, “Oh, are you, dear? How nice.”
Obviously she assumed that Jennifer had a date with Neal, but even so, it seemed odd that she should not ask where they were going. And twice, during tea, when Jennifer commented on news in the local evening paper, her mother failed to hear what she had said. It was unlike her to be so abstracted, and the second time it happened Jennifer said anxiously, “Is something worrying you, Mummy?”
“No, of course not, pet. What makes you ask?” Louise said, at once.
“You seem rather preoccupied tonight.”
“I’m sorry. I was wondering whether to wear my blue dress or my suit. What do you think?”
“I’d wear the suit. The Fletchers have a heater in their car, haven’t they? You won’t be cold going, but if you take a coat you may be too hot when you get there.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought. Oh, look at the time. I must run up and get ready. They’re calling for me at seven.”
Her mother pushed back her chair and quickly left the room.
‘There is something worrying her—but she doesn’t want to talk about it,’ Jennifer thought perplexedly.
Tony called for her at eight and, twenty minutes later, they swept through the imposing stone gateway of Friarsbridge Hall.
A long winding drive flanked by dark masses of rhododendrons led up to the house, and about a dozen cars were parked on the large gravelled forecourt.
A maid took Jennifer upstairs to a luxuriously appointed bedroom where several girls were chattering and titivating in front of the dressing-table. They all looked Jennifer up and down as she took off her coat and laid it on the bed with the other coats, but none of them returned her smile or spoke to her.
As she left the room and walked back to the staircase, she heard one of them say, “Do you think she’s Tony’s latest? Nina says he’s chasing some shop assistant now.”
Tony had disappeared when Jennifer reached the hall, but as she hovered uncertainly in the doorway of a large room already crowded with guests, a tall blonde girl came towards her. She was the girl who had met Tony at Midchester Station the night Jennifer had first seen him.
“Hello ... you must be Jennifer Alvery. I’m Tony’s sister Nina. Come and meet people,” she said, with a friendly smile.
And, taking Jennifer’s arm, she steered her through the crush to a group near the bar in the corner.
“Nicky darling, get Jennifer a drink and keep an eye on her until Tony shows up, will you?” she said to one of the young men, when she had introduced them. Then she went off to greet some more newcomers.
“What’s your tipple, Jennifer?” the boy called Nicky asked, smiling at her.
He and the other two youths seemed quite happy to include her in the group, but the three girls with them were less cordial. Like the girls upstairs, they were eyeing her with undisguised animadversion.
“Oh, tomato juice, please, if there is some,” Jennifer said nervously.
Nicky raised his eyebrows. “Come, come—this is a party, dear girl. There’s no pep in tomato juice. How about a spot of vodka?”
Before Jennifer could decline his suggestion, he turned to the man behind the bar and asked for something called a Vodkatini.
“You work at Parkers, don’t you?” one of the girls asked her coolly.
Jennifer smiled. “Yes, I do,” she agreed pleasantly. “Do you work in Midchester?”
The girl exchanged a smirk with her friends. “I don’t work.”
“You mean you’re still training?” Jennifer suggested evenly, her temper beginning to simmer.
Again the three girls exchanged glances.
“One doesn’t have to have a job ... thank heaven,” another of them said, with a giggle.
“No ... but it must be very dull if one doesn’t,” Jennifer answered coolly.
She had taken one sip of her drink when Tony reappeared.
“Sorry about that. I got stuck on the phone. Come and dance,” he said, taking her hand.
Until about half-past ten, the party grew more and more rowdy. And then the bedlam of chatter and laughter began to subside as the crowd in the supper-room gradually thinned out.
In the room cleared for dancing, someone turned out all but one of the wall lights and frantic twisting gave place to languid cheek-to-cheek shuffling. Almost all the girls had both arms round their partners’ necks, and every time there was a break in the music while a new disc slid on to the turn-table, one or more couples would sidle off the floor and disappear.
To Jennifer’s surprise, Tony did not attempt to hold her too close or to press his face against hers.
And when, soon after eleven, she told him it was time she went home, he did not demur.
There were no lights on in the hall now and, groping her way upstairs to fetch her coat, Jennifer almost fell over a couple who were sitting on the steps halfway up.
“Oh ... I’m sorry,” she stammered, moving round them.
The girl giggled, and the man muttered something unintelligible.
In the bedroom, Nina Anderson was combing her long blonde hair.
“Leaving early?” she asked, when Jennifer picked up her coat.
“Yes, I’m afraid I must. I have a busy day tomorrow.”
Nina took a smouldering cigarette from an ash tray and drew on it. “Well, perhaps it’s just as well,” she said dryly.
“Why do you say that?” Jennifer asked.
Nina shrugged her pretty bare shoulders. “Our parties tend to get a little out of hand around midnight. Undo me, will you? Some idiot spilled a drink on me.”
Jennifer unfastened her zipper for her, and Nina let her dress fall to the floor and stepped out of it. Leaving it on the carpet, she strolled across to a long fitted wardrobe and opened one section. At least a dozen short evening dresses, some of them protected by polythene bags, hung from the rail inside.
Nina selected a sheath of pale blue silk, the bodice encrusted with pearls and crystal drops, and snaked it up over her narrow hips. Then she turned her back for Jennifer to deal with her zipper again.
“I like you,” she said abruptly. “Most of Tony’s girls are stupid little gold-diggers. You’re different. What’s your interest in him? You haven’t fallen for him, have you?”
Jennifer shook her head. “I hardly know him.”
Nina grinned. “You will. Tony’s never had a hard time dating a girl before. I think he likes being the hunter for a change.” She kicked off her shoes and delved in a cupboard for another pair. “Tony and I have everything money can buy,” she said, her voice suddenly bitter. “The only thing we lack is someone who really likes us. Crazy, isn’t it?”
Jennifer did not know what to say. She wondered if the other girl had had too much to drink and ought not to be left alone.
But before she could decide what to do, there was a tap at the door and Tony came in.
“Oh, there you are. I thought you’d got lost or been waylaid,” he said to Jennifer. “Ready now?”
She nodded, casting an anxious glance at his sister. But Nina’s expression was serene again. When Jennif
er thanked her for having her, she said pleasantly, “I’m glad Tony induced you to come. Maybe we could lunch together some time. I’ll be in touch. ’Bye.”
“What were you and Nina gossiping about up there?” Tony asked, when they were driving away from the house.
“Oh, nothing in particular. I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” Jennifer said lightly.
“Nina doesn’t usually like my girl friends, but she seems to have taken a fancy to you,” he remarked. “You’d be doing her a favour if you would have lunch with her one day. She’s had a rough time lately. She fell for a chap she met on a cruise with Mother last winter, but our old man didn’t like the look of him and bought him off. It rather knocked the poor kid sideways.”
“Yes, of course I’ll have lunch with her,” Jennifer agreed, with quick compassion.
The distaste she had felt earlier when the party had begun to get ‘out of hand,’ as Nina put it, gave place to a feeling of pity for both Nina and her brother.
“Can I see you tomorrow? Will you have dinner with me?” Tony asked, as he helped her out of the car outside her house.
“Yes, if you like.” Jennifer felt in her bag for her key. She wondered if he would try to kiss her goodnight.
But after he had unlocked the door for her, he said, “I’ll pick you up at the shop at six o’clock. Goodnight, Jennifer.”
Seconds later, his car was roaring away down the road.
On Sunday morning, Neal rang up and invited himself to lunch. At first, when her mother returned from the telephone to say that he was coming, Jennifer felt a sharp thrust of panic. But as she peeled some extra potatoes, she told herself not to be a fool. As long as she kept her head now, neither Neal nor anyone else would ever know how close she had come to losing it the week before. Somehow—and she knew it would not be easy—she had to maintain an unruffled and friendly attitude towards him.
“You look tired, Jenny,” Neal said, when she opened the door to him shortly before one o’clock.
“I’ve had two late nights in a row. I do feel slightly ragged,” she agreed lightly. “Mummy, Neal is here.”
Louise came out of the kitchen. “Hello, Neal. I wonder if you could sharpen the carving knife for me. I’ve never mastered the art of using a steel.”
“Of course.” He followed her back into the kitchen. Jennifer returned to the dining-room where she had been laying the table. Already her nerves were jangling.
As they were finishing lunch, Louise said, “You will be spending Christmas with us, won’t you, Neal?”
“If I may.”
“We shall be glad to have you. What about Suzanne? Has she a family? I don’t think she ever mentioned them while she was here.”
“Her parents are dead, but she has a married brother who lives at Reading. I imagine she’ll be going there for Christmas.” Neal looked across the table at Jennifer. “I was wondering if you would like to take the car out this afternoon, Jenny?”
She gave him a startled glance, but before she could reply, her mother said, “Oh, Neal, is that wise? Jenny may have passed her test, but she’s still very inexperienced, and the Lancia isn’t like the driving school runabouts.”
A faint smile touched the corners of his mouth. “I’ll trust her with it. She ought to keep her hand in,” he said easily. “How about it, Jenny?”
It seemed to her that there was a glint of challenge in his eyes and, without stopping to think, she said, “Yes ... yes, I’d like to try the Lancia.”
“Then you’d better go off at once. It will be dusk in a couple of hours. Do be careful, darling,” her mother said anxiously.
“Don’t worry, Louise. I’ll take care of her,” Neal assured her.
Jennifer’s hands were shaking when, ten minutes later, she slid behind the wheel of the big car. She did not doubt her ability to drive it competently, but she knew she had been an idiot to let her desire to prove her prowess spur her to risk the much greater test of being alone with Neal.
After five minutes on the road, she began to relax. The car handled beautifully and she was soon perfectly at ease with the controls, but there was a good deal of traffic about and, concentrating on the road ahead and her rear view mirror, she ceased to be aware of the man beside her.
She had been driving for half an hour and they were about fourteen miles out of Midchester when Neal asked her to stop in the next lay-by.
“Your mother need not have worried. You drive very well,” he said quietly, when she had switched off the engine.
Jennifer did not look at him. “Thank you. Will you take over now?”
“No, you can drive back—but not yet. I haven’t seen much of you lately. I want to talk to you.”
She kept her eyes on the dashboard. “About the shop, do you mean?”
“No, not about the shop.” There was amusement in his voice.
Jennifer tensed. He had turned towards her and, without looking, she knew that his hand was lying along the back of the seat only inches from her shoulder. Suddenly the car seemed unbearably confined. She felt trapped.
‘I asked for this,’ she thought, with futile vexation.
“Are you free tomorrow night?” Neal asked.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“What about Tuesday?”
Jennifer shook her head. “I—I’m busy all this week.”
“I thought you might be.” His tone was very dry.
She forced herself to look at him, to smile. “What do you mean by that?”
“You’re a good driver, but a poor actress, Jenny. What has upset you this time?”
Her smile faded. “Nothing has upset me. I don’t know what you mean. Let’s go home by the other road, shall we?”
She leaned forward to switch on the engine, but his hand clamped on her shoulder and held her back. “Not yet. Don’t fence with me, Jennifer.”
“You’re hurting me,” she said coldly.
“Rubbish. You’re not made of icing sugar. Now, the truth, please.”
“The truth is that I’m booked every night next week. Is that so very extraordinary?” Her voice shook slightly. “You said yourself I ought to get out more.”
“Up to a point ... yes. Not to the extent of looking as tired as you do today.”
“I think that’s my business.”
“Not if it affects your work at the shop.”
“Are you threatening to sack me again?”
His fingers tightened on her shoulder, but his tone remained steady as he said, “If you persist in being childish I might take more appropriate measures.”
Jennifer flushed and set her teeth. If only he would take his hand away! Her own hands clenched on her lap.
A moment later Neal did let go of her. “I think I’d better drive back after all. You’re too keyed up now.” He opened his door and got out.
Her cheeks burning with chagrin, Jennifer slid across the seat and averted her face.
Neal did not drive up to the house. He stopped the car outside the gate and, leaving the engine running, said, “I won’t come in again. Tell your mother I have some work to do, will you?”
Jennifer gripped the handle of the door, but she did not open it.
“Thank you for letting me drive,” she said, in a low voice.
He did not answer and, when she flicked a quick glance at him, she saw he was looking along the avenue as if he had not heard her.
“Neal, I’m sorry,” she blurted out miserably. “I—I don’t want to quarrel with you, but I am busy all next week. Anyway, why should you want to take me out?”
He turned his head then, and his mouth and eyes were hard. “Forget it, Jenny,” he said crisply.
“But...”
“I said forget it,” he repeated. And, leaning across her, he jerked the door open and waited for her to get out.
The following Wednesday afternoon, Neal sent for all the buyers to show them the Christmas gift catalogue which was to be sent to the store’s listed customers. It was a four-
page pamphlet printed on scarlet paper with a line drawing of Parkers on the front cover. Everyone agreed it was most attractively set out, and congratulated Suzanne, who had designed it.
But as Jennifer looked through the price lists, she frowned, then made a small sound of dismay.
“Is something the matter, Miss. Alvery?” Neal asked formally.
“Some of these prices are wrong,” she said worriedly. “My buffalo horn steak knives are three guineas a set, not two guineas. And the smoked glass cheese dishes are thirty shillings each. They’re down here at a guinea.”
“Those are the prices you gave me, Jennifer. I copied them out most carefully,” Suzanne said, looking puzzled.
“But they aren’t—I know they aren’t,” Jennifer protested.
Before Suzanne could reply, Neal said swiftly, “Well, there’s no need to detain the rest of you.”
After the other buyers had left the room, he gestured for the two girls to sit down and offered Suzanne a cigarette. “Now, let’s sort this thing out,” he said briskly. “Have you got the list of items from Jennifer’s section, Suzanne?”
She searched through a file of papers and handed him a typewritten list.
He compared it with the catalogue. “These tally perfectly,” he told Jennifer. “See for yourself. This is your original list, isn’t it?”
Jennifer studied it for a moment. It was her list. She had typed on one of the office machines which had some letters slightly out of alignment, and she had deleted certain words and added others. It was exactly as she remembered it—except for the incorrect prices.
“But I couldn’t have made these mistakes. I know all these prices off by heart,” she exclaimed, mystified.
“You agree it’s your list?” Neal asked her coldly.
“Yes, but—”
“How is it you didn’t notice the errors when you checked the proof?” he cut in.
“What proof?” she asked blankly.