by Lilian Peake
‘Can’t you speak to me now?’
‘Sorry. It’s neither the time nor the place.’
This was Slade the executive, the company director, the boss. When he spoke in that tone, it was advisable not to argue.
It was Patrick and Emma arriving home who looked like the bridal couple. They were hand in hand and if Slade noticed, he did not comment.
‘Enjoyed your day?’ Rosalind asked, although she told herself the question had been unnecessary.
‘Wonderful,’ said Emma, gazing rapturously at the man beside her who, to his sister’s astonishment, returned the compliment in full measure. It’s not fair, Rosalind wanted to shout at him. You show all the signs of having found yourself someone who, one day, you’ll almost certainly come to love as much as you did Jeanie. Yet you’ve fettered me to a man who not only doesn’t love me, but has no feelings towards me whatsoever.
‘But we should be asking you that,’ said Emma, disengaging herself from Patrick. ‘What have you been doing with yourselves? Or shouldn’t I ask?’
‘Our lives are an open book,’ Slade commented dryly.
‘Slade’s been working,’ said Rosalind, ‘and I sunbathed in the garden. I went to sleep and found Slade sunbathing beside me.’
‘I made us a cup of tea,’ said Slade, taking up the tale with a malicious grin. ‘And we talked.’
‘Then we had some food.’
‘Then we behaved like an old married couple.’ Slade glanced at his wife. ‘Which we’ve been doing until now, when you came in.’
Emma frowned as if there was something she could not comprehend. Then she smiled. ‘You’re fooling me, of course.’ Rosalind began to shake her head, but a glance at Emma’s face told her she would be wasting her time denying the statement.
Towards bedtime, in the kitchen, Emma said to Rosalind, ‘While I’m here I’ll take over the cooking.’
‘You can’t do that,’ Rosalind protested. ‘You’re our guest—’
‘And you’re the bride. I disapprove of the “no honeymoon” arrangement, but at least Slade’s given you one night at a semi-luxury hotel. Patrick said he and Slade arranged it between them. He said you didn’t know. Was that true?’
Rosalind nodded. ‘But I don’t mind not having a honeymoon, honestly. Tomorrow I’ll go in to work.’ As Emma started to argue, Rosalind said, ‘I must, otherwise there’ll be piles of work waiting.’
‘You win, but I’m letting it be known that for the few days I’m here, I’m taking charge.’
Rosalind laughed at her determination but thanked her. Emma returned to the others. A few moments later Rosalind put her head round the door, but found that Patrick and Emma were alone. ‘Where’s my husband?’ asked Rosalind lightly, hoping she sounded like an eager bride.
‘Gone up,’ said Patrick, looking everywhere but at his sister.
‘Waiting impatiently for his wife to join him,’ Emma added, with mischief in her eyes.
‘I’ll do just that,’ said Rosalind, saying goodnight. She went upstairs, saw that Slade’s door was closed and made for the bathroom. When, eventually, she closed her own bedroom door, she found that she had not succeeded in washing away all her tears. They would keep coming, no matter how determinedly she wiped them away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ROSALIND travelled to work with her husband and her brother. Slade had said, on leaving the house, ‘I told you there was no need,’ but Rosalind indicated that she was dressed and ready to go.
On the first floor Patrick left them, going into his own office. Outside his room, Slade said, ‘Don’t forget I want to see you. Just dump your things in your office and come along, will you?’
His eyes were steady as they looked into hers. His back was straight, his whole bearing aloof. Rosalind felt a surge of determination to force him to acknowledge her existence as a woman and not merely a member of his staff. Making a pretence of pulling at her forelock, she said,
‘Yes, sir, whatever you say, sir.’ Slade’s eyes sparked in response, but she went on, her eyes finding his chin, his tie, his jacket, ‘You look as immaculate as if you had a devoted wife who pressed your suit this morning, brushed your jacket and polished your shoes. Isn’t it a pity you haven’t got a wife who does those things?’ Her eyes were bright and inciting.
A smile tugged at the line of his serious mouth.
Rosalind persisted, ‘Your “devoted wife” is standing right here.’ She stood, soldier-like to attention. ‘She doesn’t do domestic things like acting as tame valet to her husband!’
He smiled broadly, slapped her soundly on her behind, provoking an indignant ‘oh!’ and sent her on her way. Rosalind called over her shoulder, ‘Your wife’s a business woman, earning her living by the sweat of her brow while her husband occupies the boss’s chair and does nothing all day …’
He raised a fist, pretending to threaten her retreating form. ‘You be right back,’ he called, ‘or I’ll—’ She turned the corner and was out of sight.
Duncan Varley was in her office. He seemed both pleased and surprised to see her. He was short but slightly-built and quick in his movements despite the fact that his hair was almost white.
‘Mr Anderson told me—’ he began.
‘That I’d be having today off. Well,’ Rosalind put her coat and bag on a chair, ‘I told him I’d rather come in to work.’ She gave Duncan a quick smile. ‘I won.’
Duncan said, ‘I bet you don’t often win.’ Rosalind frowned. ‘Win what?’
‘Your battles. He’s a strong character, is our new boss.’
Rosalind managed a casual lift of her shoulders. ‘I don’t do so badly.’
Duncan Varley laughed. ‘It’s all right for you in these early days of marriage, but you just wait until a few months have passed. He’ll have you here,’ he pressed the ball of his thumb on the desk, ‘like he has everyone else.’
‘Oh, no,’ she laughed, ‘not Rosa Prescott,’ she checked, saying, ‘not Rosa Anderson.’
‘Well,’ said Duncan, smiling, ‘I admit there are weapons a wife has which could get her her own way eight times out of ten, if not more.’
Rosalind, remembering the situation between herself and her husband, affected a smile, then frowned. ‘Thanks a lot for keeping my work under control.’
‘Think nothing of it,’ said Duncan from the door. ‘It was only for one day, after all. If you want me, you know where I am.’
Rosalind nodded, glanced in the mirror and smoothed her hair. The door opened and a slim, exquisitely proportioned young woman entered. The dress she wore was a merging of sunrise-red and white, the neckline a simple vee, the shape cut to fit the woman inside. Around the smooth throat were three rows of chunky pink and white beads. The features were regular, the lips painted to a glowing, pouting fullness and the eyes, which were green, were topped by lashes which fanned outward and upwards.
‘Hi,’ said the newcomer. ‘I’m Nedra Farmer. We met briefly just before my interview.’ Rosalind nodded, thinking, How could I possibly forget? ‘I hear,’ the young woman went on, ‘you’ve been busy getting yourself married.’
There’s no doubt about it, Rosalind thought with a tug of envy, Slade’s picked a winner here. ‘You heard right,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’m now—’
‘The new Mrs Anderson, alias the personnel officer. Do I come to you with my problems?’ The laugh was husky and infectious and, surprisingly, genuine. Rosalind found herself joining in. ‘Of course I’ve met your husband. And,’ she draped herself on the desk, ‘if you don’t mind my saying so, is he something! I started my marriage career when I was eighteen and at the great age of twenty-four—’
My age, Rosalind thought. She can’t be! Not with all that worldly knowledge in her eyes.
‘I’ve just shed my second,’ Nedra was saying. ‘So I’m free again. It has to be said that, in the eyes of those so-called liberated females we hear of, I sure am living life to the full.’ She sighed a heavy sigh. ‘Except that I’d give
anything to find a big, solid man who’ll open up his arms to me and say, “Come in from the cold, baby, I’ll keep you warm with diamonds and mink for the rest of your beautiful life.” ‘
They laughed together and Nedra went on, ‘Well, here opens another page in my book of life. I’m here to liaise—I’m good at that—with possible customers of Compro. I must say I’ve never liaised in the business sense before. I’ve modelled, I’ve travelled far and wide, I’ve sold beauty products, I’ve been in advertising, publicity, even a film or two—strictly walk-on, walk-off parts—’
It was impossible not to like the girl and, Rosalind thought, if she doesn’t lead the potential clients to swallow the bait whole and give Compro their projects, then no one will.
The phone rang. A voice said incisively, ‘I told you, I want to see you. What’s keeping you?’ Rosalind put her hand over the mouthpiece and mouthed, ‘My husband, the boss,’ at which Nedra’s chuckle rippled from her throat.
Rosalind soothed exaggeratedly, ‘Darling, Miss Farmer and I are introducing ourselves to each other. But I’ll be along in two minutes.’
‘Make it one.’ The curt voice cut off.
‘My, will he be difficult to handle!’ Nedra exclaimed. ‘Oh, and make it Nedra. Everyone does. You’re Rosalind? Okay if I use it?’ Rosalind nodded.
‘I’ve had my orders,’ said Rosalind, ‘If I don’t go, I’ll find myself unemployed. And that,’ over her shoulder, ‘is no joke.’
‘He,’ said Nedra, standing at the door and watching the personnel officer’s retreating back, ‘is just the kind of man I’ve been looking for.’
Slade had altered, in the fifteen minutes since Rosalind had left him, altered in manner from amused indulgence to an almost clinical detachment. He would show more warmth, Rosalind thought rebelliously, to a passer-by brought in from the street.
His jacket was draped over the back of the chair. His shoulders stretched broadly inside the crease-free blue shirt. His tie was neat, not a hair on his head was out of place. There was nothing about him to tell any onlooker that the two who now sat facing each other had, only two nights before, lain intimate and entwined in each other’s arms.
‘I should like you to write a notice,’ said Slade, ‘which I want distributed to all members of staff. The notice will tell them that this company will soon be in a position to offer life insurance schemes to employees.’
Rosalind frowned, trying to absorb the implications behind the statement. ‘But who—’ the movement of his hand arose from irritation, ‘I’m sorry if I appear to be dim,’ she went on, ‘but who’s going to finance this—this venture?’
He looked fully at her. ‘The company. Who else?’
‘But—but where’s the money coming from? We’re a small consultancy. We employ fifty people at the most.’
He leaned back, rested his hands on the arms of his chair. He contemplated for a moment the signet ring she had pushed on his wedding finger only two days earlier, then he transferred his hard gaze to her. ‘May I correct you? We’re an expanding company. As we expand, so the prices we charge for the computer programmers we send out on projects goes up.’ He sat forward, seizing a pen. ‘Are you now going to argue with that statement?’ Rosalind saw the danger signs, and shook her head. Slade placed a tick on a piece of paper. ‘See to that memo about life insurance, will you?’
‘If you say so, but it’s going to cost—’
‘That is not your worry.’ He spoke curtly. She wanted to ask, Does Patrick know? but did not dare. There was no pathway to Slade, not in her capacity as personnel officer, not as the sister of one of the directors, nor even as his own wife. Even if she had crept up to him, curled about him like a kitten and tried to entice him round to her frame of mind, she guessed she would discover only the hardness of mountain rock, and find herself thrown relentlessly off by an avalanche of cold rejection.
‘Will you put around a second memo,’ he was saying, ‘explaining that we’re introducing a house purchase scheme to help employees buy residential property.’
Rosalind shook her head, bewildered. ‘We’ve never had anything like this before.’
‘Maybe not, but in the computer business, new companies are springing up like mushrooms. There have to be enticements to get qualified people to apply to this particular firm, plus incentives, you might say, to get them to stay with us. Job-hopping is becoming a problem. There-fore, help with house purchase and so on will, we hope, give employees roots and act as a discouragement to them to flit from firm to firm.’
‘Have you ever tried,’ she asked, ‘to buy a house in the London area at a reasonable price? Patrick tried, and failed, so he and I now have to pay out a fantastic amount each month to a building society—’
‘Which is where our scheme comes in. We would lend employees money at a lower rate of interest than a building society.’
There was a pause and he looked up from the blotter on which he had drawn angular-shaped outlines. ‘Any more objections?’ She began to nod, saw his eyes glint and changed the movement to a shake of the head. ‘Good. Get those memos out as soon as possible, because in a few days I want you to start recruiting fifteen more computer programmers.’
‘Fifteen more—!’
‘That, my darling wife, is just the beginning.’ His smile was sardonic, his eyes satisfied as he watched the creeping flush which his endearment had caused in her cheeks. ‘Wait until I really get going on pulling this company to its feet!’
He tugged a folder across the desk. It was an act of dismissal, but Rosalind stayed as she was. ‘I shouldn’t think,’ she retorted, ‘that it’ll be long before the company is staggering with shock as a result of your new broom tactics.’
Slade’s eyes were chips of ice as they rested on her. ‘Would you please go? I have an appointment in five minutes, before which I’ve got a handful of letters to dictate.’
She turned at the door. ‘Thank you, sir, for the audience.’ But he did not even raise his head.
On the way back to her office she met Gerry Alton. There was a spring in his step, a smile in his eyes. When he saw Rosalind, the smile faded. He put a hand on her arm. ‘Rosalind? I’m sorry about the other morning—the things I said.’
It was an effort to remember. She shrugged off his hand. ‘It’s all right.’ She showed him her wedding ring. ‘Anyway, I’m married now.’
‘So I heard. I can’t say I was pleased, but congratulations.’
Rosalind smiled. ‘Thanks for being honest.’
‘Are you happy?’
She forced a brilliant smile. ‘Ecstatically.’ The smile was so dazzling even Gerry could discern that it was false.
‘So what’s wrong?’
‘There’s a lot you don’t know. And I certainly can’t tell you.’
He spread a hand in a gesture of helplessness. As they were moving in opposite directions, Gerry called, ‘Okay for lunch at the King’s Head? Or will things be different now you’re Mrs Anderson?’
The thought had not occurred to her. She remembered Slade’s ‘big boss’ attitude during her interview with him, his treatment of her as an employee, no more, no less. She recalled his remark when they had become engaged that he had never wanted to be tied down by the woman he married. She said brightly, ‘Lunch as usual.’
Gerry raised his clasped hands as if he had recognised her mental struggle and subsequent victory.
As they ate their sandwiches and drank their lunchtime drinks, Rosalind’s eyes kept sliding towards her husband. I’m watching Slade, she thought sickeningly, as he used to watch me. He knows it and he’s treating me with the contempt with which I used to treat him. The tables had turned with a viciousness that hurt. She saw the vitality of his personality, the eagerness which filled his discussions, the thrusting enthusiasm of his mind coming through to touch his every feature with an intellectual excitement.
Patrick was on his left, Nedra on his right. I’m his wife, Rosalind told herself, infuriated by the way h
is eyes rested on the new member of staff, yet he’s never once, since we became engaged and then married, looked at me in that way.
He did in the old days. The thought stole unobserved into her mind. Maybe, she reflected, he enjoys the chase and is bored after the conquest … Which doesn’t say much for my chances of keeping him.
‘She’s got everything,’ Gerry’s voice interrupted, ‘and there’s not a thing you can do about it. Why did you get yourself hooked by a guy who all the women go for and who seems to have a roving eye himself?’
She couldn’t say, ‘He hooked me. I was just a fish wriggling helplessly on the end of his line.’ Instead, she said brightly, ‘Next time I look their way, just step on my toe, will you?’
Gerry laughed. ‘Will do. Anyway, I’ve got a favour to ask. Will you go shopping with me?’
Rosalind agreed at once, if only for the pleasure of showing Slade that she could have the opposite sex trailing after her, too.
‘I want your opinion,’ said Gerry, ‘on what I’m going to buy.’ He drained his glass. ‘I—well, I thought it was time I got some new things to wear.’
‘Oh, I see. Changing your image.’
‘Yes,’ he answered a little defiantly. ‘Why shouldn’t I? When I move to this new project, I can’t turn up looking like—’ He glanced down at his worn brown cords, his grubby shirt cuffs and old jacket, ‘well, like an advertisement for secondhand clothing!’
‘So you’re going to get a new shirt, new jacket—?’
He reddened. ‘I thought of buying a two-piece suit. Nothing too expensive … I just wanted your opinion, that’s all’ There was doubt in his eyes and a question.
Rosalind laughed. ‘You look so unsure of yourself you make me feel quite maternal!’
‘You feel maternal towards me? Perish the thought! It’s just that I’ve never bought a suit before and I thought a feminine opinion would help me decide.’
On their way out, it was necessary to pass the table occupied by Slade, Patrick and Nedra. To hide the jealousy which would inevitably have shown in her eyes, Rosalind turned a dazzling smile on to her husband. He met the smile coldly, his glance rebounding off her companion. He lifted his tankard of beer and swallowed deeply.