Living Together

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘He wasn’t similar,’ Katy dismissed the description disgustedly. ‘He was exactly like him.’

  ‘I didn’t think so,’ Sue maintained her first opinion. ‘This man was much younger.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Katy scowled. ‘He was exactly Leon Masters’ age.’

  ‘How old he looked or who he looked like isn’t really important,’ Sally cut in. ‘Whoever he was he sounds like a very dishy man. You didn’t tell us you have a handsome boy-friend tucked away in your life,’ she teased Helen.

  There was a lot she hadn’t told them, if they did but know it! They would be as scandalised as everyone else if they knew they were actually working with Mike West’s widow. ‘He isn’t tucked away,’ she denied calmly. ‘I’ve only met him a couple of times.’

  ‘What’s his name?’ Sally asked interestedly.

  ‘L-Larry. His name’s Larry,’ Helen lied.

  Sally pulled a face. ‘Not as nice as Leon. When are you seeing him again?’

  ‘Tonight.’

  ‘Lucky you!’

  Helen didn’t think so. She bitterly regretted agreeing to meet him, and regretted even more that she had told him anything about herself. But perhaps after he had had time to think about what she had told him he wouldn’t turn up tonight. She hoped that would be the case.

  ‘But why did you tell him about Michael?’ Jenny demanded to know that evening. ‘You could surely have put him off some other way.’

  ‘He wouldn’t be put off.’ Helen pushed the food about her plate. ‘I thought telling him I was Michael’s wife might do it.’

  ‘But it didn’t?’

  ‘No,’ she sighed. ‘He didn’t believe me at first, and when I finally managed to convince him he said he didn’t believe me capable of doing something like that.’

  ‘A sensible man at last!’ declared Jenny. ‘If I wasn’t sure about my approval of him before I am now.’

  ‘Well, I’m not. He expects me to tell him the whole story tonight, and I can’t. I can’t talk about it!’

  ‘Still?’

  ‘Still,’ Helen nodded. Jenny knew more than anyone about the break-up of her marriage, but even she didn’t know it all. Helen had never found it easy to talk of her brief marriage to Michael West, which made it all the harder to believe she had told Leon Masters anything about it.

  Jenny looked puzzled. ‘But you’ve told Leon that you’ll tell him everything?’

  ‘Yes,’ Helen sighed. ‘When I’m with him I don’t seem to be able to control what I say. But I can’t tell anyone about—about Michael,’ she said chokingly.

  ‘You’ve told Leon quite a lot already, more than I’ve ever known you tell anyone else. That’s quite a step.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ she said impatiently. ‘But even if he still wanted to see me after he knows everything, which I very much doubt, I couldn’t do it. Maybe if he was just an ordinary man, someone out of the limelight, it might be different. But you know how famous he is.’ She shuddered. ‘I couldn’t let the newspapers hound me again.’

  ‘That you can even contemplate going out with Leon seems like a miracle to me,’ commented Jenny.

  ‘I’m not contemplating it at all, he isn’t’ giving me a choice. He’s very domineering.’

  Jenny cleared away the dinner things, Helen’s plate still untouched. Her appetite seemed to have deserted her. ‘Perhaps he’s the sort of man you need, the sort of man who won’t give you time to think.’

  ‘I don’t need any man,’ Helen denied hotly. ‘And especially one with his reputation.’

  ‘If he can induce any sort of emotion in you at all, and he obviously can, he has my vote,’ Jenny said happily. ‘I’ve never seen you as animated as you’ve been this last week.’

  Helen grimaced. ‘I’d have to be a masochist to go out with him. He’s the same type, don’t you see? The same type!’

  ‘As Michael?’ Her cousin shook her head. ‘You have to be joking! Leon is a mature man, a man who knows what he wants. Michael was like a little boy, one minute so grown up, the next running back to Mummy.’

  ‘Leon said—’ Helen broke off.

  ‘Yes?’

  Helen bit her lip. ‘Leon said something similar. He said Michael was like a spoilt child.’

  Jenny raised an eyebrow. ‘He knew him?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think he actually knew him, he just met him.’

  Jenny grimaced. ‘I should think that was enough.’

  Helen sighed. ‘I wish I hadn’t been blinded by his surface charm, maybe then I wouldn’t have made such a mess of my life.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be a mess,’ said Jenny, ‘you’re young enough to make a fresh start.’

  ‘With someone like Leon?’ she scorned.

  ‘With anyone who can make you happy,’ Jenny corrected.

  ‘Then it won’t be Leon,’ Helen said firmly.

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘Because—well, I just know. And when he gets here tonight I want you to answer the door and tell him I’ve changed my mind.’

  Jenny frowned. ‘Can you see him accepting that?’

  ‘I suppose not. Well, tell him—tell him I’m out, that I’m ill. I don’t care what you tell him as long as you get rid of him,’ she said desperately.

  ‘Helen, I think if I told him you’d emigrated he’d follow you.’

  ‘If you won’t get rid of him I’ll lock myself in the bedroom and refuse to come out.’

  Jenny shrugged. ‘Okay, I’ll try. Don’t blame me if he breaks the door down.’

  ‘He wouldn’t—No, he wouldn’t do that, Jen,’ Helen scorned. ‘Being persistent is one thing, but that would be sheer madness.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ Jenny said knowingly. ‘You’ll see,’ she amended.

  Jenny’s warning frightened Helen. Surely Leon wouldn’t go to that extreme? But why not? He had blackmailed her into going out with him at lunchtime. Her barriers against him didn’t seem to deter him one little bit.

  ‘Well, try your best anyway,’ she pleaded.

  ‘Of course I’ll try, but…well, I just don’t hold out much hope.’

  Helen had shut herself in the bedroom by five to eight, just counting the seconds until Leon arrived. At exactly eight o’clock the doorbell rang and she knew it had to be him. She could hear the murmur of conversation but couldn’t make out what was being said. Suddenly the conversation stopped and she heard the door close. Leon had gone.

  ‘Helen?’

  She jumped as she heard Leon’s voice on the other side of the bedroom door, checking the lock to make sure he couldn’t get in. She didn’t attempt to answer him.

  ‘Helen, I know you’re in there,’ he said softly. ‘Now, come on out.’

  Still she didn’t speak, but her heart was beating so loud she thought he must be able to hear it even through the thickness of the door.

  ‘Helen, if you don’t open it I’ll have to break it down,’ he warned.

  She could almost see Jenny’s I-told-you-so smile. But he wouldn’t do it really, it was just an idle threat—wasn’t it?

  Leon rattled the door handle. ‘Open it!’ he ordered angrily. ‘Or are you such a coward that you can’t even face me?’

  She knew it was a trick and yet she couldn’t refuse his challenge, if only to prove to herself that he didn’t frighten her. She slowly unlocked the door and came out of the room to face him. He looked so attractive in the white dinner jacket, snowy white silk shirt and fitted black trousers, that it was hard not to stare at him. Helen moved with an effort to sit down.

  ‘Would you mind leaving us alone?’ Leon asked Jenny, his charming smile making it a polite request.

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t mind at all, not if you can talk some sense into this stubborn girl.’

  ‘I’m going to give it a good try,’ he promised.

  Helen watched silently as her cousin went into the bedroom and closed the door. Traitor, her brain cried out, unfairly. How could she desert her
in her hour of need!

  Leon came to sit beside her on the sofa, easily holding her at his side as she went to move away. ‘Now, tell me what the hysterics are about,’ he chided.

  She opened her mouth to speak and then shut it again. If she didn’t speak then they couldn’t argue, and that was the way she wanted it. She was perfectly well aware that she couldn’t win in an argument with this man.

  He took out a case of slim cheroots, lighting one before speaking again. ‘Do you know I hardly ever used to smoke these things, and yet since meeting you I seem to have done little else. How do you feel about being instrumental in my downfall?’ Still she remained silent. ‘You couldn’t give a damn, hmm?’ He quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘Aren’t you going to talk at all? No, I guess not. Then I’d better do all the talking. You aren’t ready to go out, so I suppose you must have changed your mind. Now why could that be?’ he mused. ‘Too cowardly, I guess.’

  Her mouth tightened angrily. ‘I’m not a coward!’ she snapped, forgetting her vow of silence. ‘I’m entitled to change my mind without giving you a reason for it.’

  ‘You don’t change your mind when someone has taken the trouble to call for you.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Isn’t that rather rude?’

  Helen flushed at his rebuke. ‘It may be, but it can’t be helped.’

  ‘You could have telephoned and saved me the trouble of coming all the way over here.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I—It never occurred to me.’

  ‘You mean you didn’t chicken out until a little while ago,’ Leon taunted. ‘It didn’t occur to you that I might have arranged for a meal to be prepared for us?’

  She looked at him sharply. ‘And have you?’

  ‘Yes. Does that bother you?’

  ‘Well, of course it does,’ she answered impatiently.

  ’But it doesn’t change your decision pot to come with me,’ he drawled. ‘It’s going to make me very unpopular with Max.’

  ‘Max?’ she frowned.

  ‘My man of all trades. He’s a marvellous cook.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Changed your mind?’ he coaxed.

  ‘I’m really not very hungry.’

  ‘Well, I am. Don’t you think you’re being a little selfish denying me my meal?’

  ‘I’m not doing that. You can leave any time.’

  ‘Oh no,’ he relaxed back on the sofa. ‘At least we’re talking here. If I have to starve at least it will have been for a good cause. Can I use your telephone to tell Max we won’t be coming back after all?’

  ‘Are you trying to make me feel guilty?’

  Leon raised his eyebrows. ‘Is it working?’

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted reluctantly.

  ‘And why shouldn’t you feel guilty? I’m the one that will have to suffer for it, I’ll be getting over or undercooked eggs for breakfast for weeks to come.’

  Helen felt her mood lighten. ‘Is he really that despotic?’

  ‘Frightening,’ Leon confirmed. ‘But he’s such a good cook I daren’t sack him.’

  Helen looked down pointedly at his slim waistline, not an ounce of superfluous flesh anywhere on his body. ‘You don’t look as if food bothers you that much.’

  ‘It doesn’t. But once a week I allow Max to go mad in the kitchen. Tonight was this week’s ration.’

  ‘Now you’re making me feel worse.’

  ‘That was my intention,’ he didn’t attempt to prevaricate. ‘Come with me, Helen, and save me from a fate worse than death.’

  ‘Fate worse than death?’ she queried.

  ‘Max’s disapproval.’

  She laughed at his woebegone face. ‘He can’t be that bad!’

  Leon grimaced. ‘He’s worse, terrifying in fact. Come and meet him.’

  ‘Well…’ She could feel herself beginning to weaken.

  He stood up, pulling her to her feet. ‘Right, let’s go before you change your mind again.’

  Helen looked down ruefully at the casual skirt and blouse she had worn for work and not bothered to change when she came home. ‘I’m not going out like this!’

  ‘You look lovely to me,’ he assured her.

  ‘What did you tell Max about me?’ she asked.

  Leon smiled. ‘I told him I was bringing home the most beautiful girl in the world for dinner.’

  She blushed at his overstatement of her passable looks. ‘In that case I’m definitely not going looking like this. Give me ten minutes to change.’

  ‘Make it five and you have a deal.’

  ‘Right!’ She hurried into the bedroom, to find Jenny sitting on one of the beds reading a magazine.

  ‘Did I hear you laughing just now?’ Jenny asked curiously, putting the magazine down.

  Helen blushed. ‘Yes,’ she admitted almost guiltily, pulling a red silk jersey dress out of her wardrobe.

  Jenny raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re going out after all?’

  ‘I didn’t like to disappoint the cook.’ She evaded her cousin’s eyes, quickly changing into the dress before adding a light make-up.

  ‘To say nothing of Leon,’ Jenny said dryly.

  ‘Well, I could hardly let him down when he’s had a meal prepared.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Jenny teased. ‘Perhaps it’s as well you didn’t eat your dinner earlier. You would have had trouble eating two meals.’

  Helen gave her a suspicious look. ‘Why do you say it like that?’

  Jenny laughed. ‘I knew he’d get round you, that’s why I did liver and bacon, a meal I know you aren’t fond of.’

  ’Why, you sneaky—’

  ‘I was only doing it for your own good,’ Jenny cut in. ‘You know you’d never have been able to eat two meals.’

  ‘You could have no idea I would agree to go,’ Helen protested.

  ‘Want to bet? I may not know Leon very well, but I do know he’s a very determined man, he usually gets his own way.’

  Helen suddenly realised what she was doing, and dropped the hairbrush in her agitation. ‘Oh, Jenny, what do I do about Michael?’ she cried.

  ‘You tell Leon the truth,’ came the gentle answer.

  Her face went pale. ‘Oh, I couldn’t! If I have to talk about it all the pain will come back too.’

  ‘Or it might just go away. It never does to bottle these things up. Maybe Leon is the person you can tell it all to.’

  ‘But what if he hates me when he knows?’

  Jenny looked at her searchingly. ‘Would that bother you, having Leon hate you?’

  ‘I—Yes! I—I think it might.’ The admission came as something of a surprise to Helen.

  Jenny squeezed her hand reassuringly. ‘He won’t hate you, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Yes, but how—Oh God, I have to go, my five minutes were up long ago. Wish me luck, Jen,’ she begged.

  ‘You know I do,’ Jenny smiled encouragingly.

  Leon’s tawny eyes darkened appreciatively as Helen came out of the bedroom. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said huskily, seeing the brightness of the dress making her hair appear much darker. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I used your telephone to call Max and tell him we’d be there in about fifteen minutes.’

  Helen gave a shy smile. ‘No, I don’t mind.’

  They were both silent on the drive to his apartment, Helen because she was nervous of the evening ahead, and Leon’s reason she could only guess at. A Bee Gees cassette playing softly in the background alleviated complete silence.

  He took hold of her elbow on the way into his apartment. ‘Don’t let Max make you feel nervous.’

  ‘Do you think he might?’ she asked.

  ‘If he can scare me there’s no telling what he’ll do to you.’

  Helen chuckled. ‘I think you’re teasing me.’

  She heard a ragged breath and looked up curiously. ‘God, Helen, you’re beautiful!’ Leon groaned, his eyes never leaving her face.

  She instantly moved away from him, her eyes like those of a frightene
d animal. ‘Please don’t!’

  ‘I don’t know what that bastard did to you,’ he said grimly, ‘but he’s really messed you up.’

  ‘Please, I—I don’t want to talk about it,’ she begged.

  ‘Not yet,’ he soothed.

  ‘Not—’

  ‘Ah, Mr Masters,’ a firm quiet voice said from behind them, ‘dinner is ready to be served.’

  ‘Thank you, Max.’ Leon grinned at Helen before turning to face the manservant. ‘This is Helen West, Max,’ he introduced.

  Max was tall and thin, in his mid-fifties, dressed very correctly with not a grey hair out of place. ‘Miss West,’ he acknowledged stiffly.

  ‘Mrs West, Max,’ his employer corrected him.

  ‘I see.’ His chilly voice echoed the disapproval on his face.

  ‘Helen is a widow,’ Leon explained with a grin.

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Max turned on his heel and went back to the kitchen.

  ‘I’m sure he doesn’t believe you,’ Helen whispered.

  ‘That isn’t surprising,’ Leon said dryly. ‘You don’t look old enough to have been married and widowed.’

  ‘I may not look it, but I feel it,’ she shuddered.

  ’Come on,’ he took hold of her arm, ‘let’s have a drink before dinner.’

  ‘Are you sure Max will allow it?’ she asked lightly, anxious not to bring up the subject of Michael just yet, if at all. She had been about to tell Leon she didn’t want to talk about him when Max had interrupted them.

  Leon grinned as he went over to the drinks cabinet. ‘Sit down,’ he invited. ‘Martini?’ He poured some into a glass at her nod of acceptance. ‘He isn’t really as forbidding as he looks.’

  Helen deliberately sat in one of the armchairs. ‘That was just a ruse to make me curious about him,’ she guessed.

  His tawny gaze was intent upon her. ‘Now you know Max isn’t your reason for being here,’ he said huskily, bringing his own glass of whisky with him and seating himself opposite her.

  She licked the Martini from her lips. ‘Wasn’t it?’ she evaded. ‘I thought it was.’

  ‘Helen—’

  ‘You have a lovely apartment,’ she cut in. ‘Did you choose the furnishing yourself?’

  ‘Changing the subject?’ His voice was gentle.