It occurred to her that she hadn’t realised this before because most of the young men of her acquaintance were of the same calibre, until she met David. Would it always be like this from now on? Would she measure every man she met against David, and find him lacking, because David’s strength of character was unique?
She wished that Martin could have been installed in Larkspur Cottage before her parents returned from their shopping expedition, and then she could have presented him as a fait accompli. As it was, she had to explain to her mother that Martin would be arriving shortly.
Her mother’s smile disappeared. She said gravely: ‘I hope you know what you are doing, Jan.’ Unexpectedly she added, ‘Don’t make a proud man humble himself too much.’
What did her mother mean? A proud man. She couldn’t be referring to Martin.
‘I’m not playing one off against the other, if that’s what you mean.’
‘That’s the last thought I would entertain in connection with you, Jan. Such a devious ploy wouldn’t enter your head, and even if it did, your ‘one and only’ complex wouldn’t let you give a very convincing performance. You have a lot of praiseworthy characteristics, Jan, many of them inherited from your Grandmother Ashton, but I wish she hadn’t passed her inflexible outlook on to you. You would save yourself a lot of trouble if your reasoning could be a bit more elastic.’
Her mother hadn’t spoken frivolously. There was thought and meaning behind her words, but Jan couldn’t come up with a sensible interpretation.
‘He loves you, Jan. Can’t you see?’
‘Who, Martin?’
‘Not Martin. He only loves himself.’
Who then? David? Did he? Could he? Her mother was biased. She couldn’t see how anyone could not love her darling daughter.
She sighed, and put her mind back to the problem of where to sleep Martin. In normal circumstances she would have given him the sofa in the living room, but that would be lumpy comfort for a man with a broken arm. Poor Martin. He never could stand pain and he’d always yelled before he was hurt. As a little boy his mouth had turned down when things weren’t going exactly his way, and he hadn’t altered in this respect. Only one thing for it, he would have to have her room and she would have to double up with Stephanie. Stephanie’s bed wasn’t very big, but luckily neither was she or Stephanie.
‘You can help me change the sheets and pillowcases on my bed for Martin,’ she informed the little girl.
Normally, Stephanie loved to ‘help’. It was most unlike her to answer listlessly, ‘All right.’
‘Don’t you want me in your bed?’ Jan asked. ‘I don’t kick.’
Stephanie summoned up a giggle. ‘I do. Sometimes I kick Tatty Bear right out of bed.’
‘Poor Tatty Bear,’ said Jan.
If she hadn’t been so wrapped up in her own affairs she would have spotted Stephanie’s flushed cheeks and waxy pallor, and taken more notice of her apathy. As it was, Stephanie’s lethargic mood went unheeded as she concentrated her attentions on the other invalid.
He arrived in a very sorry-for-himself state of mind. The train had arrived late and instead of trying to make up the time it had crawled from station to station at a tediously slow pace. He had been lumbered with a talkative woman, and the child on the seat behind him had divided his time between kicking Martin’s seat and wiping his toffee-sticky hands round the back of his neck. He couldn’t shave properly, tie a tie or a shoelace, hence the fact that he was wearing an open-necked shirt and casual slip-on shoes, both of which he deplored. But above all he was bored, bored, bored! And he hoped Jan had got a good evening lined up for him.
The early night that Jan had thought Martin would appreciate was never proposed. She was still wildly searching her brain for inspiration when her mother said: ‘Why don’t you put the steak back in the fridge, Jan, borrow your father’s car, and take Martin out for a meal? I will be happy to babysit.’
In default of a better idea, Jan said: ‘Yes. When David gets home from work I’ll ask him if he can recommend a good place. You didn’t tell me how the shopping expedition went. Did you spend up?’
‘Well. Let’s say I had a pretty good try.’
Her mouth went very smug. Jan was still probing the mystery when Martin said: ‘Are you having a party?’
‘A party?’ Jan questioned, looking perplexed.
‘Don’t be so stupid,’ Martin said with a touch of irritation. ‘I know twenty-one isn’t the official coming of age, but it’s always good for a celebration.’
Twenty-one! On Sunday, which was the day after tomorrow, it was her birthday. Her twenty-first birthday. How could she have forgotten that?
‘You always were a blab-mouth, Martin Groves,’ her mother said. ‘Did you have to make it so obvious that we’ve been to Harrogate to shop for Jan’s present?’ Turning to her daughter she said: ‘It wasn’t last minute, honestly. Your main present’s been wrapped for ages. I wanted something extra for you.’
‘I’d completely forgotten my birthday,’ Jan said stupidly.
‘At your age, dear?’ her mother said drily.
‘Did you get something nice?’ Martin asked, a little peevishly because he hadn’t taken kindly to Muriel Ashton’s chiding tone.
‘Something very nice. But you are not going to wheedle it out of me just what.’ She stood up and held her hand out towards Stephanie. ‘Would you like me to take you to bed, pet?’
Stephanie went without demur and Jan set the table for her parents and David.
Muriel Ashton came back downstairs. ‘David not here yet?’
‘No. He does have a tendency to forget time when he’s involved in something,’ Jan admitted, ‘but it’s unlike him to be this late, and he’s made a special point of being on time since you’ve been here, so as not to hold up the evening meal.’
‘As far as I’m concerned it’s not going to be held up much longer. I’m hungry. If he doesn’t show up soon, he’ll be eating alone.’
Before Jan could comment, Martin popped his head round the door. ‘Anybody any good at tying ties? I refuse to have a night on the town wearing an open-necked shirt.’
‘Better let me,’ Jan heard her father say, which was as well because Martin had quibbled constantly from the moment he arrived. If she got her hands on his tie she might just be tempted to strangle him with it.
‘Hope the local scene is lively, Jan,’ Martin said in all innocence.
‘You’ve got to be joking. There isn’t one.’
‘Surely we can let down the drawbridge and get out? Where do you go? You must have been somewhere.’
‘Yes, I have. Danielle’s Den. Thanks for reminding me. We’ll go there. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go up and get ready.’
She put on the same dress she had worn on the previous two occasions she had visited Danielle’s Den. The thought glanced across her mind that she really must treat herself to a new dress, but her appearance wasn’t her main preoccupation. If David still hadn’t arrived home when she got downstairs, she wondered if she dare phone Linda whose husband, Hugh, worked with David, to ask her if Hugh had got home yet. She decided against it. It would sound too much like fussing. Anyway, David must surely have turned up by now.
He hadn’t.
Her father handed over his car keys. ‘Drive carefully, Jan.’
He always said that, even though he had told her countless times that he had every confidence in her as a driver.
‘I will.’ Turning to her mother she said: ‘If anything crops up, you know where to find me. The number of Danielle’s Den will be in the phone book.’
‘Of course. Off you go and have a good time.’
‘We shall certainly do that,’ Martin averred, his good humour restored now that they were on the move. ‘Danielle’s Den. Intriguing sort of name. Tell me about it.’
Jan filled him in on the way, mentioning that Danielle was a friend of David’s, but was careful to say nothing of Danielle’s unhappy past.
‘Hey, this looks all right to me,’ Martin said as they plunged into the dimly lit room where a spotlight picked out Danielle who was seated at her usual place at the piano. His eyes were glued on Danielle.
Jan smiled. ‘Why don’t you say what you mean, and that is she looks all right?’
His grin was sheepish. ‘Well she does. She’s a stunner. You said she was a friend of your boss. Is she a special friend?’
‘Very special,’ Jan replied without hesitation.
‘Wedding bells in the offing?’
‘No, it’s not that sort of friendship. Can’t a man and a woman want to share each other’s company because they like each other? Does physical attraction have to come into it?’
She hadn’t realised how terse she sounded until Martin’s hand shot up to fend off an imaginary blow. ‘Sorry I spoke. I honestly had no idea or I would have been more tactful.’
‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘Come off it, Jan. Does David know how you feel about him? And remember it’s me you are talking to and prevarication can serve no useful purpose.’
Her haughtiness dropped away. She sighed. ‘David doesn’t know. And he mustn’t.’
‘Don’t look at me like that. I’ve never grassed in my life. I’m curious to know why you invited me up, though.’
‘Because you’d broken your arm and you could do with a bit of pampering.’
‘That’s fine. But if you had any idea in that crazy head of yours that I look anything remotely like decoy material, forget it and find yourself another sitting duck.’
‘A sitting duck, you? Never! You’re never still enough, for one thing. Now if you’d said lame duck. . .’
‘Ha! Very funny!’ His handsome head lifted. ‘Your little friend has stopped playing. Do you think you can persuade her to come and sit with us?’
‘I don’t think that will be necessary. I rather imagine she’ll come anyway.’
Jan was right. Even as she spoke she saw Danielle making her way through the tables towards them. Martin had set her thinking. David and Danielle. They would be so right for each other. Even their names were compatible. Their roots were deeply linked in sympathy. They liked what they knew about each other. How long before they found out they simply liked each other and decided to take it from there?
‘Hello, Jan.’ By this time Danielle had reached their table. The French girl pulled a chair forward for herself and sat down.
Martin, who had risen as Danielle approached, sat down also. ‘You play beautifully.’
He wasn’t wasting any time in getting into action, Jan noticed. He was seducing her with his eyes.
‘No, I’m merely adequate.’ Danielle’s gaze lowered in provocative awareness. Or was there a quirk to her mouth that suggested to Jan it might be to conceal suppressed laughter. It was more likely for a sophisticated girl such as Danielle to have her mouth lifted in amusement than have her head turned by Martin’s unsubtle approach.
‘I’ve known Martin since I was a little girl, and he’s quite harmless,’ Jan said as a preliminary to the introduction.
‘No, I’m not,’ Martin defended himself stoutly. ‘Not completely armless anyway. I can still bring impudent little girls to heel with my remaining good arm.’
‘I noticed you’d been in the wars. What exactly happened?’ Danielle enquired compassionately.
Martin’s eyes, which had no yearning to venture from Danielle’s face, were still doing their witchcraft. A hint of mischief crept into their blue depths. ‘I went to the defence of a poor little old lady who was being set upon by a gang of thugs. They had designs on the case she was carrying. They had it on good authority it was full of . . .’
‘Yes?’ Danielle leaned forward expectantly.
‘. . . fruit and nut chocolate bars.’
‘The only fruit and nut case is you. No, correction. I am also, for believing you. Now that I’ve got your measure, I won’t be taken in again. You might have warned me, Jan, that your friend was a joker.’
‘I would be a candidate for protective care if I told you how I really came to break my arm.’
Jan noticed that Martin’s fun-talk had lightened the shadows in Danielle’s eyes. The crying sadness behind her smile was less apparent than it had been when Jan had sat across a table from her with David.
Almost on cue, as if she had followed the direction of her thoughts, Danielle turned to Jan. ‘Where is David? Is he following on?’
‘David isn’t coming this evening. I don’t know where he is. He hadn’t got home from work when we set off.’
‘Don’t look so distraught, chérie. When you and David are married and he tells you he has had to work late, you can be sure it will not be a blind to cover up other activities.’
‘I must set you right, Danielle. David and I are not going to be married.’
‘No? I’m sorry to question your wisdom, my little friend, but are you not being silly? What is it you English say, are you not cutting off your nose to spite your face?’
‘On the contrary. I’m saving face by cutting off my nose.’ It wasn’t her nose she was cutting off, it was her heart she was cutting out. ‘I’m trying to be sensible.’
‘That is something I do not know about. I have never been sensible in my life, and at my age . . .’
‘Which is?’ Martin cut in impertinently.
‘I would not dream of telling you that,’ Danielle said with a twinkle in her eye. ‘But the first figure is a two. Have you noticed how long my fingers are? When I play the piano I can span an octave. The second figure is more than I can span with my fingers.’
There are eight notes in an octave. That made Danielle twenty-nine. Jan didn’t know how old David was, but she thought he could claim a year, possibly two, more than that.
‘I thought you said David wasn’t coming this evening?’ Danielle said.
‘He isn’t.’
‘Then his ghost walks, or he has a double, because here he is.’
Jan turned her head, and there indeed was David, glowering down at her.
‘What is it, David? I thought something must have happened when you didn’t come home from work at your usual time.’
‘Oh that. It’s nothing to do with that. I’m afraid I got absorbed in what I was doing and forgot the time. I’m sorry to have thrown the meal arrangements to pot.’
‘You haven’t eaten, David? No? That’s splendid. You must have a meal here. And do please sit down,’ Danielle further instructed. ‘You are so tall. I’m getting a crick in my neck with having to look all that way up at you.’
‘I’ll sit down for a moment, but I won’t stay for a meal. I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, Jan, but I’ve come to take you home.’
Now that her anxiety had calmed, now that she saw he was fit and well and hadn’t met with an accident, she became intensely annoyed. How dare he calmly walk in here and order her home? Her mother had obviously told him about Martin, and just as obviously it was not to his liking. His high-handedness roused her ire.
‘I’m not going home. I’m not a child to be ordered about, and I’m enjoying myself too much to be dragged home because of some stupid whim of yours. I think you know Martin by name,’ she said too sweetly, ‘although I don’t believe the two of you have actually met.’
Paying her out in her own coin, because he was alert to how her mind was working, he turned to address Martin. ‘We’ve not actually met, but I do recall seeing you before.’
Curiosity surely insisted that Martin ask where. He must have sensed some innuendo because Jan felt herself the victim of his puzzled gaze, although he said nothing. She silently thanked him for not pursuing the issue. She remembered well where David had seen Martin before.
Like a dog with a bone, David said with irritating persistence: ‘On that occasion, too, I came to take Jan back.’
It was after David had dismissed her and sent her home, because he considered her unsuitable for the job of looking after Stephanie, and altoget
her too indiscreet. But Stephanie had thought differently, and David had been forced to follow her and bring her back. His timing had been most unfortunate. Martin had made a pass at her, and David had been there at the crucial moment and had witnessed the scene through the uncurtained window.
‘You seem to make a habit of coming after Jan to take her back,’ Martin said, matching David’s dryness as in turn each man summed up the other’s potential.
‘Unfortunately it would appear so,’ David admitted.
Jan had taken it for granted that David, with his astute judgement, would sum Martin up and find him wanting. It came to her that this was not so. David was in a livid temper and as usual the heat of his anger was crusted in ice. If it hadn’t been such a ridiculous notion she would have thought he was jealous of Martin.
He said: ‘There will be other opportunities for you to have entertaining evenings out in—‘His eyes were mocking, but whatever they mocked it was not her taste in men—‘congenial company. Occasions that do not infringe on your conscience or your duty. Right now, I must ask you to put your mind to these mundane moral issues, even if it means forgoing your own pleasure.’
Even as she was silently applauding Martin for setting himself up as a worthy opponent, she was inwardly quaking. ‘I don’t know what you mean. My duty to whom? What moral issue? My conscience is perfectly clear.’
‘Then all I can say is, you have a very convenient conscience if it allows you to embark on an evening of revelry leaving a sick child in the care of . . .’
‘Now wait a minute,’ Danielle intervened on her behalf. ‘You can’t speak to Jan like that.’
The Tender Flame Page 15