‘We have a table for two,’ said David grimly.
‘We don’t mind being a bit cramped, do we, Jeremy?’
Jeremy nodded blankly.
‘What do you say?’ Shirley turned to Claudia.
Claudia looked hopelessly at David. ‘Fine, we’d love it.’
They followed the waiter to their table, Shirley waving and smiling to several people on the way.
‘I think this is a simply marvellous place,’ she said to Claudia as they reached their table. ‘I’m sure if one sat here for a week one would see absolutely everyone one ever knew pass by, sort of like London airport!’ She giggled loudly.
David sat through the dinner in sullen silence, and Jeremy didn’t have much to say, so it was Shirley who did all the talking, with Claudia occasionally joining in. Shirley was an avid reader of Queen magazine, especially the society pages, and her main topics of conversation were who had been seen with whom, and what good parties were going on. Jeremy apparently was asked to most of them, and Shirley went into minute details about the most boring items. For example, Lady Clarissa Colt wearing the same dress to two different parties, and the Honourable Amanda Lawrence having a coming-out party where they ran out of champagne. ‘It was too awful,’ wailed Shirley. ‘One just never should run short of champers! Too embarrassing!’
Eventually, when they reached dessert, Jeremy took her off to the small dance floor where they clung limply together.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ said David. ‘I’ve heard just as much as I can take from the stupid, snotty cow.’
‘I’m sorry, baby,’ replied Claudia soothingly. ‘She is a bit much.’
‘A bit much? That’s an understatement if ever I heard one. Who is she, anyway?’
A smile played softly around Claudia’s mouth. ‘When I first came to London, I worked in a club. Miss Fancy Pants worked there too.’
‘What were you doing in a club?’ asked David, surprised.
‘I had to earn some money, and this actor I arrived with never seemed to work, so I took a job in a club.’
‘Doing what?’
‘The dance of the seven veils!’ she laughed.
‘What! You must be joking.’
Her smile faded slightly. ‘I’m not joking. Look, I had no talent for doing anything else. It was either that or being a hostess and getting pawed about by a lot of dirty old men. I would sooner take my clothes off any day. They could look, but they couldn’t touch.’
‘I don’t know anything about you, really, do I?’
Her large eyes turned suddenly remote. ‘You’ve never bothered to listen. Like all men, your prime concern is to get me in the sack as fast as possible.’
There was a short silence, then she gave a quick, brittle laugh. ‘I’m sorry, my past is a big drag anyway. Why would you want to hear about it?’
David was about to reply when Shirley and Jeremy returned.
‘Jeremy’s made the most divine suggestion,’ said Shirley. ‘There is a simply dinky little nightclub opened down at Windsor, and he says why don’t we all pop down there.’
David looked at her sourly. ‘At the Castle, naturally.’
For a moment Shirley’s pale blue eyes glinted angrily, then she grimaced and laughed quickly, replying, ‘No, sweetie, not at the Castle.’
‘Count us out, then,’ snapped David.
‘I say, old chap, are you sure?’ stammered Jeremy.
Claudia broke hurriedly into the conversation. ‘David’s tired. You two run along, and if we change our minds we’ll join you later.’
‘All right,’ said Shirley, ‘but do try and make it.’ She grabbed Jeremy by the arm. ‘Come along, sweetie, we’ll leave these two lovebirds on their own.’
She shot a dark glance at David, waved gaily at Claudia, and towing Jeremy along behind her, they made their exit.
Claudia started to laugh.
‘I don’t happen to think it’s so funny,’ said David grimly. ‘I suppose I’m stuck with the check as well. Many thanks for a delightful evening.’
Her laughter increased. ‘I’m sorry. But honestly, it is funny. If you had known Shirley a few years ago – well, I mean, you just wouldn’t believe it. She was anybody’s and everybody’s!’
His tone was cold. ‘And you?’
Abruptly she stopped laughing. She stared at him for a few seconds and then said slowly and deliberately, ‘I think we have just about reached the end of our relationship, if you could ever call it that.’ Before he had a chance to reply, she got up from the table, and threading her way through the restaurant, vanished out of sight. Quickly he called for the check.
‘It’s David Cooper, isn’t it?’ The voice was loud and American.
David looked startled. There stood Jay Grossman. ‘Well, hello,’ he said uneasily.
‘Where’s Linda?’ Jay stared pointedly at the recently occupied place across the table.
David wondered if he had seen Claudia leave, then decided he hadn’t. Otherwise, as he was only a casual acquaintance, he would never have made such an obvious remark. ‘She’s at home,’ said David, then indicating the rest of the table he continued, ‘I had a business meeting and they all had to rush off.’
At that moment the waiter presented the check.
David threw down some money and quickly got up.
‘Nice seeing you, Jay.’
Jay was not to be dismissed. ‘Come and say hello to Lori. She’d be most upset if I told her I’d seen you and hadn’t brought you over for a drink.’
‘Only for a minute,’ said David reluctantly. ‘Linda’s expecting me home.’
The Grossmans were sitting at a table across the other side of the room. David was pleased to note that they couldn’t see his table from where they sat. Jay had only spotted him by chance on his way back from the men’s room.
Lori looked as aloof and perfectly groomed as before, every shining blond strand of hair arranged carefully in place, her face a mask of flawless makeup. She wore a pale-brown chiffon dress, which dipped revealingly between her breasts.
‘Nice to see you again,’ said David, unable to keep his eyes from straying down her neckline.
‘Likewise,’ she replied in her faintly suggestive, empty drawl.
‘Come on – sit down and have a drink,’ said Jay.
‘Well—’ He sought wildly for an excuse, couldn’t find one, and anyway, what the hell – eyes fixed firmly on Lori’s neckline, he sat down.
‘What’ll you have?’ asked Jay.
‘A Scotch on the rocks.’
Jay summoned the waiter while Lori produced a small gold compact and proceeded to touch up an already perfect makeup.
‘I spoke to Linda earlier,’ Jay said. ‘She mentioned she was going to talk to you about joining us for dinner tomorrow night.’
‘Oh,’ said David blankly. His mind was half on the fact that Claudia had walked out on him – what a bitch! – and half on the fact that he had a strong fancy for Mrs. Cool, Dumb Grossman. What a revelation to get her into bed and penetrate beneath the layers of makeup, eyelashes, and hair pieces. ‘Good idea. Where do you want to go?’
‘Lori rather likes the idea of the Savoy Grill.’
‘Yeah.’ Lori put down her compact for one brief moment. ‘I’ve heard it’s fantastic. You get to see Princess Margaret and that cute guy she’s married to.’
‘They don’t exactly do a cabaret there,’ said David, smiling. ‘But they have been known to go there.’
Jay said, ‘Shall we meet at our hotel?’
They chatted a short while longer, and then David made his excuses and left. He tipped the attendant who brought his car round and sat morosely in it. Screw little Miss Hot Pants Parker. She was becoming too much. First of all she talked him into going to a restaurant he didn’t even want to go to. Then she lumbered him with her dreary friends. Then she admitted to working in a strip joint, and got insulted when he commented on it. And then she had the utter nerve to walk out on him!
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On top of all this, she had been to bed with that fat slob of a producer the previous evening. She was nothing but a slut, an easy lay. If he wasn’t careful he might even catch something from her.
She could get lost. He was going home.
He headed his car toward Hampstead. It was ten o’clock.
Chapter Eight
After a while Linda stopped crying. Where was that going to get her? She went into the bathroom and washed her face, then stared at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t know what to do. She knew she couldn’t face the prospect of sitting around waiting for David to finally arrive home, fresh from the arms of some tramp. She had no one to telephone. Since marrying, she had gradually lost touch with all her girlfriends – they had all drifted apart, got married, and gone off to live in different parts of the country. She thought of phoning her mother, but to confide in her would be ridiculous. Her mother had never really approved of David and would be only too pleased. In desperation she phoned Monica.
Monica was cool. ‘Absolutely charming the way you stayed five minutes and then dragged off my most important guests. I mean, really, darling – a bit off.’
Their conversation was brief, and when Linda hung up, she thought, the hell with it, I’m not a child, and she picked up the phone again and dialled Paul’s number.
He answered immediately. ‘Hello.’
She got cold feet and froze, not saying anything. Then she hung up in a panic.
He phoned back at once. ‘Linda, this is Paul. I know you just called me.’
She was taken aback.
‘Look – I’ve been waiting for you to phone. I knew you would. Can I see you? Can you come over?’
‘When?’ she muttered weakly.
‘How about now?’
‘I don’t know…’
‘Please, I must talk to you.’
‘Well, all right. I’ll be there in half an hour.’
‘Great.’ He gave her the address in case she had forgotten it.
She was surprised. Ego had told her that he would remember her, but she hadn’t expected him to be waiting to see her, expecting her to phone.
She got ready swiftly before she changed her mind, and drove the five-minute distance to where he lived.
It was an old house converted into apartments, squashed between a butcher’s shop and a vet on the main High Street. She climbed five flights of stairs before reaching number 8.
He answered her knock immediately.
‘I don’t really know what I’m doing here,’ she blurted.
He took her by the hand and led her inside. ‘You look lovely. I’ve been going mad waiting for you to phone.’
‘Why didn’t you phone me?’
‘Look, Linda – I understand your scene. I don’t want to put you in a bad position. It was up to you to make the next move.’
He made her feel very young, although she could give him at least ten years. ‘I know nothing about you,’ she murmured.
‘You’re always saying that,’ he replied. He was wearing paint-stained faded Levis and a white sweater. He looked very attractive.
They were standing in a small, dark room with black walls hung with lots of paintings, some framed, some unframed, mostly nudes, with exotic thin faces, masses of hair, and voluptuous bodies. The only furniture was a teak Danish dining table – piled high with papers – and a battered old scarlet couch. She sat on the couch, and he offered her beer or vodka. She elected to have vodka.
He fixed her drink, then put a Billie Holliday record on and sat beside her.
‘About the other night,’ she began nervously, ‘it should never have happened – I’d had a fight with my husband, and I had too much to drink…’
He took her hand. ‘You don’t have to make excuses. It did happen, and it was great. If you’re embarrassed about it, well, you didn’t have to see me again. I didn’t call you back for that reason.’
She took another gulp of vodka. ‘I just wanted to explain.’ She hesitated and then rushed on. ‘I just didn’t want to leave you with the wrong impression of me.’
‘You left me with a beautiful impression. Your perfume was all over my bed, and the smell of your body, and the way you cried out when you came.’ He reached over for her and she halfheartedly tried to pull away. But their mouths met and she was lost. He was young and full of strength, and this time she was almost sober. His whole feeling seemed to be to try to please her, and in return she found herself twice as adept at thrilling him. They made love for a long time, and it was very very good. Afterward they lay and talked.
She felt so peaceful and protected by him. He listened quietly while she told him about David and his indifference toward her. She told him everything about herself, about the children, about her life. They smoked cigarettes and drank more vodka.
She found out about him too. He was an artist. He had left art school a year before and was now working as assistant to the art editor of a glossy women’s magazine. The paintings on the wall were all his. She found out they were of an ex-girlfriend called Margarethe.
It was a sad story. They met at art school and fell in love. After living together for six months they decided to get married. Paul’s mother was dead and his father, a retired businessman, lived in Cheltenham. He took Margarethe to meet father. She met father, and three days later she married him.
Paul was stunned; he couldn’t believe it. He had a terrible fight with both of them and hadn’t seen or heard from them since.
‘I couldn’t accept it,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe she could have loved him. I suppose she wanted his money. I couldn’t offer her any security.’
‘How do you feel about her now?’ questioned Linda.
‘I don’t know,’ he said moodily. ‘She’s a bitch. They just went off one afternoon and came back married.’
‘Why do you still keep your paintings of her around?’
He shrugged. ‘Just to remind me not to be such a jerk again. I can’t make it with girls anymore, y’know. Maybe once or twice, then I just don’t want to know.’
She remembered whiny-voiced, pretty little Melanie.
‘I imagine I’m all right because I’m married?’ she guessed.
‘I think you’re great.’
They lay in silence for a while, both mulling over their problems.
‘The thing that really gets me,’ he said, ‘is imagining Margarethe living in Cheltenham with my old man. She was such a swinger. She liked to ball more than anyone I ever knew. I just can’t see her fancying him. He’s so old.’
‘What was your mother like?’
‘It’s a long story.’
She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the forehead.
‘Tell me about it,’ she said gently.
‘You sound like a psychiatrist,’ he laughed. ‘Actually, it’s a lousy story. She killed herself when I was fifteen.’
Linda was shocked. She wanted to ask why – but Paul had turned over on his side and closed his eyes. ‘It’s a drag,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll tell you about it some other time.’
After a while she looked at her watch, and seeing that it was past eleven said, ‘Look, I had better be leaving. David’s going to be home at twelve.’
‘Why don’t you stay the night?’ he mumbled, his back still to her.
‘I’d like to, but I just can’t not be there when he gets home – he knows I never stay out – he’d probably call the police.’
‘It’s funny, isn’t it,’ Paul said. ‘All the little birds I bang and can’t get rid of.’ He put on a high thin voice. ‘Oh, darling, let me stay the night – Mummy and Daddy never expect me before morning.’ They both laughed. ‘I tell you, it’s horrible, they just will not go. And you know what it’s like to screw someone and then not be able to stand them near you after. Y’know, Linda, you’re the first female since Margarethe I’ve asked to stay the night – and you say no.’
She dressed slowly as Paul lay lazily back in bed watching her.<
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‘Y’know, you’re very sexy. I wouldn’t mind seeing you in long black nylons and a black garter belt.’
‘What would you do, take pictures?’
‘No – I’d paint you – sort of lying on a sofa. Very sexy. Can I?’
‘I’ll think about it.’ She laughed, slightly embarrassed. Eventually she was ready to go.
‘When am I going to see you?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘I don’t know, Paul. It’s very difficult for me to make plans.’
‘You can’t leave without telling me when.’
‘I’ll phone you in the morning.’
He gave her his phone number at work, kissed her long and hard, and she set off on her journey home. It was eleven-thirty.
Chapter Nine
Claudia left the restaurant in a fury. She hailed a taxi and directed it to Conrad Lee’s hotel. She was fed up with David Cooper. Stupid bastard – just who did he think he was? At first their affair had been fun. She enjoyed affairs with married men, they were a race apart, and always a challenge. Also, she had misguidedly thought he might be able to help her career.
Nothing. He had done absolutely nothing. Being Miss Beauty Maid appeared to lead to a dead end. He hadn’t even given her a decent present, just a lot of unkept promises. So where was the famous mink jacket she was supposed to get? She didn’t want money from him. How dare he offer her money like some cheap whore. But presents were a different matter.
‘Cheapskate,’ she muttered under her breath. He had even complained about picking up the check in the restaurant.
The taxi pulled up at the hotel, and a doorman leaped forward to escort her in.
She strolled coolly over to reception. ‘I’d like to speak to Mr. Conrad Lee.’
They put her through on the house phone. After a while the operator said there was no reply.
‘Would you try the phone in the bedroom, please,’ she said.
The phone rang several times before it was picked up. ‘Yeah?’ His voice was thick and unfriendly.
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