His Girl Monday to Friday

by Linda Miles

  He thought wearily of all the weeks he’d tried to fight it. He’d gone out with someone different every night, but they’d all seemed the same. They’d all tried, more or less delicately, to find out when they’d see him again, and he’d been his usual offhand self in brushing them off. Then it had hit him. He didn’t care whether they didn’t like his style or not, because he didn’t care if he never saw them again. If one walked off and swore never to speak to him again she was always replaceable. They were all replaceable.

  But he’d never known anyone like Barbara, and he’d never find anyone like her again. If he didn’t get it right with her he’d lose her, and there would never be someone to put in her place.

  The only problem was, before he’d realised this he’d treated her as if he had a large supply of Barbara clones in the closet. Why should she want to have anything to do with him? And, if she didn’t, nothing he could say would change it. It wasn’t that the women he’d gone out with had said the wrong thing—that if they’d said the right thing he’d have fallen in love with them. There was nothing any woman could do or say to make him feel about her the way he felt about Barbara—and, presumably, nothing he could say to make Barbara feel that way unless she felt that way already. Well, if it was all down to luck, he thought grimly, he might as well find out now.

  ‘That’s not really why I’m here, anyway,’ he said. ‘We’ve some unfinished business. I wanted to talk to you, and then suddenly you weren’t there.’

  Barbara bit her lip. ‘Do we have to talk about it?’ she said desperately. ‘It’s so beautiful here. It’s probably good for you to get away; couldn’t we just enjoy it and not talk?’

  Ruth was a romantic idiot, he thought furiously. It was perfectly obvious that he was wasting his time. He should have remembered that Barbara’s mother was an incurable optimist. Still, he couldn’t leave without saying what he’d come to say.

  ‘I don’t want to spoil your holiday,’ he said wryly. ‘On the other hand, I’ve gone to rather a lot of trouble to track you down. I realise you may not like what I’m going to say very much, but I feel I owe it to you somehow.’

  ‘You don’t owe me anything,’ Barbara said quickly. ‘I know we slept together that night, but we both—Didn’t we both accept it for what it was?’

  ‘Which was what?’ His expression was uncharacteristically grim.

  ‘We were acting on what we felt at the time,’ said Barbara. ‘We weren’t making any promises.’

  ‘No,’ said Charles.

  He lay on his side, propped on one elbow. The green eyes flashed over her like a wave, as cool and clear as seawater. In spite of herself, her eyes were devouring him; it had been three weeks, and it felt like three years. He looked tired, she thought; he must have been working hard.

  ‘Something tells me I’m wasting my time,’ he said. ‘After all, you’ve never exactly made a secret of your feelings. That night was—Well, I was going to say it was out of character, but maybe it wasn’t; after all, you didn’t exactly make a secret of the nature of your feelings that night either.’

  Barbara sighed. ‘Charles,’ she said, ‘what are you talk ing about?’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you always make it so hard for someone to propose to you?’ he asked.

  Barbara stared at him in dead silence. She could hear the waves lapping on the shore; she could hear a little breath of wind blowing wisps of sand down the beach. ‘Do I what?’ she said at last.

  Well, at least it wasn’t a no. He smiled. ‘I know it’s a bit sudden,’ he said. ‘I was going to lead up to it but you didn’t give me much of a chance to explain.’

  Barbara pushed a strand of hair out of her face. ‘There’s nothing to explain,’ she said. ‘You’ve gone mad. Everyone in the company works too hard, and you work harder than any of the others; I suppose you’ve been driven mad by overwork. It will do you good to lie here in the sun and relax.’

  ‘I can think of a lot of things that will do me good,’ Charles said coolly. ‘You might say yes. You might agree to a replay of the other night. You might let me finish what I was going to say. I’d like to think at least one of the three was a remote possibility.’

  Barbara bit her lip. Charles seemed so strange somehow. She’d seen him around women for years, and for as long as she could remember he’d always been so suave, so effortlessly charming. She’d never seen him like this.

  ‘Say whatever you want,’ she said at last.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. He frowned slightly, then glanced up at her. ‘Look, I realise… What I mean is, I know the weeks after that night weren’t exactly…that is…’ He ran an exasperated hand through his hair. ‘Hell,’ he said with feeling, ‘I told your mother this wasn’t going to work.’

  ‘You did what?’ said Barbara.

  He grinned. ‘You can’t seriously think I’d be here if I hadn’t talked to her? I know you think I’m arrogant, but I’m not insane.’

  ‘My mother told you to propose to me?’ said Barbara.

  He grinned again at her look of incredulity. ‘Let’s say she encouraged me.’ He shrugged. ‘The thing is, after that night we spent together I know I did everything wrong. You’ve got to understand, I’d spent years going my own way and doing pretty much as I pleased; I was used to being in control. But you’d really got under my skin. I kept thinking about you when I was in Prague, and it was irritating. It got in the way of work—or at least it’s not exactly that it got in the way but I wasn’t being single-minded about it.’

  He smiled wryly. ‘I kept thinking of reasons to call the office, which seemed perfectly reasonable at the time except that I couldn’t get rid of this edgy feeling until I’d talked to you, and then as long as I had you on the phone it would be all right but as soon as we hung up I’d start feeling edgy again.’

  Barbara looked at him shyly. ‘I thought you seemed to be calling quite a lot,’ she said, ‘but I thought maybe you always did if you were in Prague and the person you wanted to sleep with was in London.’

  He grinned. ‘I’d never been there before so there’s no “always” to go by. Judging by past experience, though, I’d have been more likely to find someone who wasn’t at the other end of a telephone line.’

  ‘That’s about what I thought,’ said Barbara. ‘It seemed so unlike you. But when you talked to me you were exactly the way you always were.’

  ‘I don’t know how you can say that,’ he protested. ‘I’ve never tried to tell a girl I couldn’t get her out of my mind in Czech and Hungarian.’ His tone was light, but his eyes glowed as they looked at her. ‘I couldn’t get you out of my mind,’ he said. ‘I thought I’d get it out of my system, and then when we’d slept together it was worse. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.’

  He gave her a rueful smile. ‘I resented the fact that anyone could make me feel that way; I resented minding if you came in and tore a strip off me for being rude to my secretary; I resented the fact that I could want so badly something that was out of my control. So naturally I behaved in a way that confirmed all the worst things you’ve ever thought about me.’

  Barbara closed her eyes. The fresh sea air cooled her face; the waves were still crashing softly on the shore; the sand was soft under her towel. She was in Sardinia on holiday. That much was clear. There was some certainty in the world. The question was—had she gone completely insane? Maybe all that longing for Charles had made her just imagine him?

  She opened her eyes. Charles was still lying there in his swimming shorts. All the evidence suggested that Charles was actually here with her in Sardinia. All the evidence suggested that Charles—

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Charles.

  ‘I think so,’ said Barbara. ‘For a moment I wondered whether I was the one who’d gone mad from overwork, but I don’t think so. I think you’re here. I don’t think I’m talking to a figment of my imagination. I just can’t believe I’m hearing what I think I’m hearing.’

  He frowned. ‘I know I’
m doing this all wrong,’ he said. ‘I should be saying I woke up and realised I’d found the woman I’d been looking for all my life.’

  He gave her another rueful smile. ‘But it’s not like that, is it? You think what that means is you’ll have everything you have already, with the perfect partner thrown in. You don’t realise somebody is going to walk into your life and turn it upside down. Well, I didn’t want my life turned upside down.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Barbara doubtfully. He didn’t look like someone whose life had been turned upside down. He looked pretty much the way he always did except that the old easy charm didn’t seem to be coming quite as easily as it usually did.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ said Charles.

  ‘Well, you must be serious about it to have come all the way to Sardinia,’ said Barbara, ‘but you don’t seem like somebody whose life has been turned upside down. Are you saying you’re actually…’

  She couldn’t finish the sentence.

  ‘In love with you?’ He flicked up a sardonic black eyebrow. ‘Yes. For my sins. Out of all the women in the world, I had to fall in love with the one who won’t say “Yes, Charles”, “Of course, Charles”, “You’re so wonderful, Charles”. No wonder I’ve been such hell to be around.’

  He sifted fine white sand through his fingers and gave her a sudden, gleaming glance. ‘I used to want to wring your neck sometimes; no wonder it took me a while to work out what had hit me. But I’m bored when you’re not there; we strike sparks off each other. The office seems empty when I know you’re not there; my flat seems empty because you were there and now you’re not I want you to marry me; will you think about it?’

  He’d mentally gone through about 400 proposals, at a conservative estimate, on the plane, and this one had come in at number 398. Now it had come out just to spite him. No wonder she wasn’t looking more enthusiastic, he thought bitterly; he’d done a better job casually flirting with the tea lady than proposing to someone he wanted to spend his life with. Now Barbara was just looking at him, not saying anything. She was obviously trying to think of a nice way to turn him down.

  Barbara stared at him. Charles had made all the running so far. He’d kept talking, and talking, and she hadn’t given him any encouragement. She knew it wasn’t fair, but she’d kept her secret for so long. If he knew it, would he change his mind? But she couldn’t seriously say no, and she couldn’t say yes and keep something like this from him.

  ‘Charles,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, Barbara,’ said Charles.

  ‘There’s something I have to tell you,’ she said.

  He frowned. ‘There’s somebody else?’ he said.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘There’s nobody else.’ She took a deep breath. The dark blue eyes met his. ‘There’s never been anybody else,’ she said.

  Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. ‘What do you mean—there’s never been anybody else?’ he asked. ‘You told me you liked lots of different kinds of men.’

  ‘I made it up,’ said Barbara. ‘I didn’t want you to know.’

  She scowled at him. ‘It’s not as if I thought you were perfect,’ she said bitterly. ‘If I had to pick someone to fall in love with, you’re the last person I’d pick.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Charles.

  ‘But I didn’t have a choice,’ she said. ‘It just happened. I’ve always felt this way. I’ve never been able to look at anyone else. It didn’t seem to matter how infuriating you were.’

  Charles was staring at her. ‘So the other night…’ he said, working it out. ‘When you said you’d been waiting to sleep with the man you wanted to spend your life with, I was the one you’d been waiting for?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Barbara said hastily. ‘I just made that up. I mean, I’d been trying for years to be attracted to someone else so I could forget about you, and if I could have found someone I was even a little bit attracted to I probably would have slept with him—it’s just that I could never find anyone. But I thought if you knew I was a virgin you’d be suspicious so I just said the first thing that came into my head.’

  Charles gave a shout of laughter. ‘Barbara, darling,’ he said, the green eyes gleaming with amusement, ‘no wonder I can’t live without you. You’re completely insane.’

  ‘And you don’t mind?’ she said.

  ‘That you’re insane?’

  ‘That I was in love with you all along?’ It was terrifying to say it. Now he would always know. She could never take it back now. If he changed his mind she would be just the same, except that he would know.

  He stared at her. She wouldn’t say it unless it was true. So she’d always been his. He hadn’t been in love with her all along—she’d only been a little girl when they’d met, after all—but hadn’t she stopped him from being anyone else’s? He’d known so many women over the years—hadn’t there always been something missing?

  His mouth quirked in a crooked smile. ‘Well, maybe all along I was just looking for someone like you, only there isn’t anyone like you—a little spitfire who can give the air an electrical charge just by opening her eyes.’

  Barbara risked a smile back. She didn’t seem to have scared him away. He was looking at her as if he couldn’t get enough of her—as if he could never get enough of her.

  ‘Does this mean I still get my five per cent of Mallorin, then?’ she asked.

  ‘I think you get rather more than that,’ he said, flicking up an eyebrow. ‘Unless you know of an alternative ceremony. “With five per cent of my worldly goods I thee endow” sounds a bit thin if you ask me.’

  Barbara smiled a little more broadly. Knowing Charles, she’d have expected him to launch into the details of a prenuptial contract. If he was throwing around his holding in Mallorin like that—let alone all the rest—he must be serious.

  ‘Do you know how to say “I want all my children to look like you” in Estonian?’ asked Charles.

  ‘No,’ said Barbara.

  ‘Do you know how to say “When you’re not with me you’re the only thing I can think of’ in Tamil?‘ The old lurking smile was back in his eyes.

  ‘Not ofthand,’ said Barbara.

  ‘How about “You can start up your own company and I’ll look after it if you get bored with it” in Maltese?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Barbara.

  ‘Well, let’s try an easy one,’ said Charles. His eyes met hers steadily. ‘How do you say “I love you” in English?’

  ‘I love you,’ said Barbara.

  ‘Good,’ said Charles. ‘That’s very good. And I love you too.’ He stretched out a hand, smoothing back the brilliant copper hair. His head bent, and he kissed her.

  She clung to him as if he was the one certain thing in a crazy world. At last he raised his head.

  She stroked his cheek. It came to her suddenly. All the moments she’d treasured because she’d thought she could never have them again, all the things she’d done because she’d thought she’d never have another chance—now she would have a whole lifetime of them.

  ‘When do you want to get married?’ she asked.

  He grinned and kissed her swiftly before replying. ‘As soon as humanly possible,’ he said. ‘When I left, your mother was promising to make you a wedding dress.’

  Barbara’s eyes widened in horror. ‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Charles. ‘Once she starts we can’t get married until it’s finished, and as it never will be finished we have a window of opportunity for this marriage which may never come again. It’s now or never, Barbara. What do you say?’

  ‘Now, of course,’ said Barbara. ‘Now and always.’

  EPILOGUE

  ‘IF YOU’LL just hold still for a moment, dear,’ said Ruth, kneeling on the floor beside Barbara.

  ‘But the ceremony was supposed to start an hour ago,’ protested Barbara. ‘Can’t we just forget about the hem? I’ll be just as married with an unfinished hem.’

  Her copper hair gleamed under a veil
and her slim figure was set off by a narrow-waisted, full-skirted dress in ivory silk which showed that Ruth could almost finish a project when she put her heart into it. She had finished three feet of the twenty-foot hem with tiny, invisible stitches—just seventeen to go!

  A furious knock came at the door.

  ‘Barbara, what’s going on in there?’ said the irascible voice of the groom.

  ‘We’re finishing the hem,’ said Barbara.

  ‘Charles!’ Ruth exclaimed in dismay. ‘Go away at once! You’re not supposed to speak to Barbara before the ceremony.’

  ‘If she doesn’t come out in two seconds I may never speak to either of you again. I’m not marrying her for her hem, Ruth. Unhand my bride.’

  Ruth smiled indulgently and continued to hem. ‘I’m nearly done, dear,’ she said cheerfully.

  The door opened and Charles stalked in. He was wearing black tails and looked, Barbara thought, both devastatingly handsome and furious. His eyes lit up when he saw Barbara.

  ‘Hello, gorgeous,’ he said. ‘Will you marry me?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Barbara.

  ‘Thank God for that,’ said Charles. ‘I’ve been stood up at the altar. Why let a perfectly good wedding go to waste?’

  Barbara laughed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. She raised a hand and ran it along his jaw. It was smooth and silky. It was so lovely when he’d just shaved, and then when he woke up in the morning before he’d had a chance to shave his jaw was dark and rough—and that was lovely too. And now she’d be waking up beside him for the rest of her life.

  His face softened at the smile in her eyes. ‘God, you’re beautiful,’ he said. He bent his head and kissed her.

  ‘Charles!’ exclaimed Ruth in horror. ‘You can’t kiss the bride until they say you may kiss the bride!’

  ‘Too late,’ said Charles unrepentantly. ‘Now, fill me in on the hem situation.’

  ‘Just sixteen feet left to go,’ said Ruth. ‘Then we’ve just got to find something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue and we’re set.’