The Tender Night

by Lilian Peake

  ‘So,’ he said, silting in the armchair opposite her, ‘it’s happened again. You’ve really let another woman take your man.’

  Shelley sat, too, drawing up her bare feet—she had kicked off her sandals before Craig had arrived—and tucking them under her. ‘What man?’ she asked coldly.

  ‘Emery Slade?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not “my man”. Jan’s welcome to him.’ His unbelieving smile taunted her. ‘And that’s not sour grapes!’

  ‘No?’ He leaned forward, clasping his hands. ‘Let me give you some advice. You’ve got as much as, if not more than any girl in your age bracket. Just use it in a certain way with the right man and he’d be yours to have and to hold. And,’ softly, ‘I mean “to hold”. Make the first approach. It could be anything, a certain look, a hand on his hand, a smile that encourages him to approach you.’

  Shelley responded bitterly, ‘If all you’ve come to see me about is to give me avuncular advice on how to get my man—’

  ‘Avuncular advice? So I’m behaving like an uncle now, am I?’ He was out of the chair and standing over her. ‘You make one more challenge to my virility, my girl, and you’ll find yourself getting more—very much more—than you ever thought would come your way from a man.’

  She coloured and her fingers moved agitatedly to where his eyes were resting—on the gap in the unbuttoned opening of her dress.

  He stood for so long looking down at her that her cheeks grew warm. ‘I’m sorry if you don’t approve of what I’m wearing, but I wasn’t expecting visitors.’

  ‘Approve? My dear girl, the buttons—especially the missing ones—are an invitation in themselves. My fingers are itching to complete the striptease.’ She looked up at him uncertainly, tremulously, and he smiled. ‘I can’t decide whether you’re vibrating with fear or—hope?’ He bent down and his hand reached out and settled round her throat. She sat rigid, helpless, filled with an overpowering longing. His fingers began to move, to stroke, to caress, and there was nothing she could do about it. There was not even the resistance in her to utter the single word ‘stop’.

  But he removed his hand and laughed as her head drooped with relief. ‘You see,’ he whispered, ‘how vulnerable you are.’ His expression changed and he walked away to stare out at the fir trees which lined the long drive to the house. He asked abruptly, ‘When does the summer vacation begin?’

  ‘Mid-July,’ she muttered, struggling to recover from the touch of him. ‘Ten more days, in fact. Are you—’ She paused for courage because she was afraid to face the answer. ‘Are you going back to the university? To your home?’

  ‘Not until September.’

  The relief that swept over her made her close her eyes. Two more months before he went away, two months of what? Heaven in seeing him almost every day? Misery in knowing the uselessness of her longing?

  ‘This camping trip you’re taking some of the kids on, is Slade going with you?’

  ‘Emery? I think so. Why?’

  ‘Has he been before?’

  ‘No. It will be the first time for him as well as me.’

  He turned in surprise. ‘You’ve never been camping?’

  ‘How could I? I’ve only worked for your mother since last October.’

  ‘It seems longer. But I remember the woman before you. Now there was a dragon if there ever was one.’ He strolled back to sit in the chair.

  ‘Worse than me?’ she smiled.

  He returned her smile and Shelley’s heart leapt. ‘Much, much worse. She breathed smoke and fire. You only breathe smoke. I’ve learnt to fight my way through it—and survive.’

  She asked, after a pause, ‘Can I make you some coffee?’

  ‘Thanks, no.’ He looked at his watch and stood up. ‘I’d like to stay, but I’m spending the evening with the Wallasey-Brownes.’

  Shelley thought, standing unhappily to face him, only politeness stops him from saying ‘with Sylva’.

  ‘This outing with the boys,’ Craig went on, ‘how long will it last?’

  ‘Just under a week.’

  ‘Presumably all the equipment’s in good order?’

  Shelley frowned. ‘I hadn’t thought about it. I’ll have to ask Emery.’

  ‘You will,’ he mocked, ‘certainly have to ask Emery. Otherwise you might find yourself sleeping under the stars instead of a tent.’

  Shelley followed him to the door. She wished she could persuade him to stay, that she could behave with Janine’s abandon and fling her arms round his neck, begging for a kiss, whispering to him, I’m lonely, keep me company, kiss me as Michael used to, only this time let it mean something instead of the pretence at loving that Michael indulged in...

  ‘Shelley?’ She did not realise Craig had been looking at her, studying her face. A hand tipped her chin. He whispered, his lips close to hers, ‘You look so sad. Forget the past, sweet. We only have one life. Live it to the full before it’s snatched away from you.’

  She winced as if he had touched an open wound. He had, of course, because for the second time in her life her heart was slowly tearing itself apart. Tears flooded her eyes, she could not hold them back. She was in love with this man more deeply than she had ever believed it was possible to love. She had tried to protect herself, but until he had come smashing through her defences, she had not realised just how feeble they had been.

  When his arms slipped round her she did not resist. When his hand strayed and found the gap in her dress she let it stay. The kiss he gave her had no meaning for him—wasn’t he on his way to a date with the beautiful Sylva?—but to her, Shelley, it meant the whole world. He was not the marrying kind, he said. Yet for the second time in her life she had allowed a man to take her heart and grind it underfoot like a discarded cigarette.

  When the kiss was over, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and dried her tears—tears which he thought were for another man.

  Emery was hanging about the hall next morning waiting for Shelley to arrive. He had, he said, come to see her about the camping marathon they were going on in ten days’ time.

  ‘The only consolation,’ he said, ‘is that I’m going with you.’ He caught the hand that was about to place the spectacles on her nose and took them from her. ‘Let’s have a preview,’ he said, ‘of the degree of togetherness we can achieve when we get together in one of those ancient tents the staff are allocated.’

  ‘You’ve had a look at the equipment?’

  ‘Yes, and why the kids should get the new stuff and the staff the threadbare bits and pieces beats me. Come on, Shelley, it’s about time you dropped this “touch me not” pose you’ve adopted towards me. A man like me has so much patience. Beyond that he’s as lustful as any other male of the species.’

  He started kissing her, and despite her protests that she should be working, and he should be teaching, that they could be interrupted at any moment, he would not stop. His kisses grew more insistent and, realising she could not fight him, Shelley went slack in his hold. ‘That’s better,’ he murmured, and pursued his objective even more purposefully.

  ‘Break down the touch barrier,’ Craig had once urged her. ‘Forget the past,’ he’d said. ‘You’ve only one life to live.’

  No one came, the children were at their lesson and Emery grew more ardent. Shelley tried to convince herself it was only fair to him, she had held him off so long...

  Footsteps, ringing and decisive on the parquet floor of the hall, stopped at the door. The handle turned. Craig Allard, the owner’s son and at that moment every inch the acting head, came in.

  Shelley and Emery broke apart, Shelley in confusion, Emery with a sheepish grin. Craig, his eyes slitted with anger, took in the situation. Then, with a sharp movement of his head, indicated the door. ‘Out, Slade.’

  Emery, in a weak gesture of defiance, raised his hand to Shelley. ‘See you, darling,’ he murmured, and went out.

  Shelley, hoping fervently that the matter had ended with Emery’s disappearance, pushed on h
er glasses. But if she thought she had escaped castigation by the man who was currently in charge of the establishment, she was wrong.

  ‘Hardly the time or the place for a necking session, Miss Jenner.’ The caustic tone made her flinch. ‘You don’t get paid to let your boy-friend make love to you. If you haven’t got enough work to keep you occupied, let me know. I can find plenty.’

  The harshness, coming as it did after the gentleness and sympathy of the evening before, his sarcastic, grating phrases after the sweetness of his kiss, had her both on the defensive and the attack. Guilt added a rash asperity to her voice as she said, ‘It was your fault. You told me last night it was time I gave a man the “come on” sign and let him get near me, so I took you at your word. Yet when I take your advice, all you can do is tell me off.’

  ‘I’m delighted,’ he said caustically, ‘that you think well enough of me to take my advice on how to conduct your sex life. But as I said, you’re paid to work, not to make love. Outside office hours and outside this building you can indulge your libido with as many men as you like, but from nine to five, excluding the lunch hour, the least you can do is to restrain your animal passions and get down to doing what you receive your salary for.’

  Tears flooded her eyes, tears of anger at her inability to fight back. He was right, she had been in the wrong. Nor could Emery be accorded all the blame. If she had pushed him away as she should—and normally would—have done, he would have left her alone. But because with him, almost for the first time ever, she had let down her defences, he, man-like, had followed up his advantage.

  But hadn’t she only relaxed her vigilance because of what Craig had said last night? And hadn’t she also wanted to prove to herself that she still had the ability to attract a man and make him want to make love to her? In other words, to regain a little of the self-confidence which had been so cruelly crushed by her fiancé’s rejection?

  She turned away, murmuring, ‘I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’

  He must have accepted her apology because a moment or two later he crossed to the desk and pulled a pile of documents towards him. There was silence for a while, with only the rhythmic clatter of the typewriter to disturb it. Then above it came Craig’s voice asking her to stop. Shelley sat, hands in her lap, waiting for him to speak.

  He said, glancing across the room, ‘Since you’re so inexperienced in the gentle art of camping, it would be in the best interests of everyone, especially the boys, if I were to go with you in place of Emery Slade. Send him a memo to that effect.’

  Shelley took no pains to hide her anger. ‘So you don’t trust us! Just because you saw us kissing each other—’

  His eyebrows lifted slowly, sardonically. ‘My dear girl, a kiss is a mere nothing. If you’d only been kissing him—I’m no prude—I would have closed my eyes to it. But what you were engaged in could be described as a prologue to a much deeper relationship.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ she flared, ‘you’re deliberately exaggerating the situation, making what we were doing seem far worse than it really was. I told you he means nothing to me.’

  ‘Which,’ he responded cuttingly, ‘puts you in a poor light indeed. If he is a man who means nothing to you, you were letting him go a long, long way. And, in my language, women who engage in that sort of activity coldly, deliberately, mechanically and without a vestige of feeling can only be described by one word, one that’s not at all complimentary.’

  ‘What,’ she whispered, aghast, ‘are you trying to say?’

  He answered coolly, ‘I should have thought it was perfectly obvious what I was trying to say.’

  The blood ebbed from her cheeks, leaving her white as though she were ill. ‘That’s the grossest insult I’ve ever had flung at me! If you think I’m going to stay in the same room as you after that—’ She rose and made for the door, but he was there before her, barring her way.

  ‘Get back to your desk, please. We have work to do. Together. Unless,’ an eyebrow lifted, ‘you’re resigning from your job?’

  Slowly, defeatedly, choked with unhappiness, she returned to her seat. She stayed motionless for a few seconds while she tried valiantly to pull herself together, then, bracing herself, began to type the memo to Emery.

  That day, thanks to Craig’s financial backing, Janine was officially made a partner in Airs. Caversham’s hairdressing business. In the evening, Craig took her out to celebrate.

  He wandered into the lodge and smiled a little derisively at the way Shelley was dressed. She was half reclining on the stairs, paintbrush in hand, staring down at him. There was no friendliness in her gaze. Her black, tight-fitting pants were stained with paint, her short green wrap-around overall likewise. Round her hair she had tied, peasant-style, a coloured square, and on her feet were tattered sandals.

  ‘Not expecting a visit from our tame artist, that’s for certain,’ drawled Craig, leaning, hands in pockets, against the wall at the foot of the stairs. ‘Bit late for spring-cleaning, isn’t it?’ he went on, in the same taunting tone. He tugged at his collar round which was tied a vivid, multicoloured tie. ‘Also, I’d say you were a little overdressed for this hot weather. Since you’re not expecting visitors, I’d have thought you could have dispensed with some of those layers.’

  Janine appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘You should see what she’s wearing—or rather, not wearing—under that overall!’

  Shelley’s head jerked up. ‘Jan!’ she reprimanded.

  Craig murmured, amused, ‘You’re giving all her secrets away again, Jan, and Big Sister doesn’t like it. So,’ he said, contemplating Shelley’s sprawling attitude over two or three stairs, ‘she’s cool, is she? Very cool indeed.’

  Shelley flung back, ‘As you said, I’m not expecting visitors, so I can dress—’

  ‘Or undress,’ Craig put in with a derisive grin.

  ‘As I like.’

  ‘Oh, stop it, you two!’ Janine exclaimed. ‘Why can’t you be civilised and friendly for once? I’ve never heard anyone quarrel like you and Shelley, Craig, and over the silliest things, too!’

  He watched Janine edge past her sister down the staircase. ‘Maybe we’re two silly people, Jan,’ he murmured with a smile.

  Janine linked her arm in his. ‘You’re not silly, Craig. Come on, we’re going out to celebrate, so you’d better get in the right mood.’ She threw a sisterly look at Shelley. ‘Good thing you decided not to come with us. You and Craig would be scratching each other’s eyes out the whole evening.’

  Janine came in after midnight. She was bubbling over with slightly alcoholic joy. Or so Shelley thought as she eyed her climbing the stairs. ‘For goodness’ sake, Jan, mind the wet paint. You’ve had too much to drink. I should have told Craig—’

  ‘Craig? It wasn’t Craig. And anyway, you’re wrong. I’m in love, Shelley. Oh,’ she stretched luxuriously across Shelley’s bed, ‘it’s a fabulous feeling.’

  Shelley’s heart lurched. So this was the end—of her dreams, her hopes, her future happiness? ‘And Craig? Is he in love, too?’

  Janine stared at her. ‘Craig? Who said anything about Craig? The man I’m talking about’s fabulous.’ She laughed. ‘I’m not as crazy as you think I am. I met him tonight. He’s just brought me home.’ She gave every sign of drifting into a dream world, so Shelley prodded her with her foot and Janine squealed, but it brought her to life.

  ‘Craig took me to a place called the Broody Hen. Nothing broody about it. Bright lights, bars wherever you looked, dining, dancing. We were halfway through the meal when who should walk in but—’

  ‘Sylva Wallasey-Browne?’

  ‘Right first time.’ Janine did not appear to notice the frown which corrugated her sister’s forehead. ‘She had one of those long embroidered dresses on that you only see in the best shops. Her hair was out of this world, and of course she had a man beside her. She made straight for Craig, though, and he ordered the waiter to set the table for four.’

  Shelley wondered deje
ctedly how long it would be before the announcement of Craig’s and Sylva’s engagement would appear in the newspapers.

  ‘There we were,’ Janine went on, ‘Sylva eating Craig with her eyes and me chewing over her partner. Wow! Has that man got everything—money, looks and a title. The Honourable Marius Halliday. I don’t think Sylva can be serious about him, because we changed partners and Sylva went off with Craig, although how she could walk away and leave that fabulous man, I just can’t guess. Shelley,’ she gazed at her sister although not really seeing her, ‘his car’s an Aston Martin and he’s just brought me home in it.’

  ‘Well, I hope you thanked him nicely and said goodbye.’ Shelley made her tone bracing. ‘Because that’s the last you’ll see of him.’

  ‘And that’s where you’re wrong, dear. He’s taking me out tomorrow evening.’

  Shelley frowned. ‘Jan—’

  ‘Little sister’s grown up now, Shelley. She can run her own life without your well-meant but quite unnecessary help. And that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful for all you’ve done for me.’

  Shelley smiled weakly at her sister’s unintentionally hurtful way of expressing her thanks. Then she remembered Craig’s comments about Janine’s ability to look after herself.

  ‘But, Jan, don’t be taken in by this man. He’ll only be playing with you.’

  ‘Will he, hell! I know a man who’s really interested from one who’s just passing the time. And Shelley,’ her eyes were bright, ‘I’m going to keep his interest.’ She sat up and intoned dramatically, ‘I’d love him even if he were out of work, penniless and homeless.’

  ‘But he isn’t, Jan...’

  ‘No, he isn’t, and isn’t that just great!’

  ‘Time,’ said Shelley, looking at the clock on her bedside table, ‘all good little girls were in bed.’ A pause, then, ‘Jan, you are a—good little girl?’

  Janine gazed at her sister with absolute seriousness. ‘Shelley darling, you have my word for it. I don’t play around.’