by Anne Mather
Shelley hid a wince, and tried to apply herself with some enthusiasm to the home-baked ham on her plate. ‘You could be right,’ she managed, forking a square of meat into her mouth. ‘It seems a shame though. The house in Ditchburn Lane is very—cosy.’
‘Then why don’t you buy it?’ suggested Marsha, with the air of someone who has achieved her objective, and Shelley sighed.
‘Marsha—’
‘Well, why not? Oh, I’m not suggesting you should give up your flat in London, or anything like that. I simply think it would be a good idea if you had somewhere of your own, far from the vindictive demands of men like Mike Berlitz!’
‘Marsha, I don’t need a house—’
‘Everyone needs a house,’ retorted Marsha, undeterred. ‘Oh, a flat is all very well, but it’s not like owning a whole property, with a garden and everything. I’ve seen you helping Martin about the place. I bet an occupation like gardening is exactly what you need.’
‘You’ll be telling me next that all I really need is a home and family,’ said Shelley impatiently, and then bent her head when Marsha fixed her eyes upon her.
‘Well, I must admit, you don’t seem to be enjoying the cut and thrust of television,’ she responded drily. ‘If you were half as tough as you like to think you are, Mike Berlitz would never be able to get to you like he does. But you’re not. You’re too sensitive, Shelley. Compared to those hyenas, you’re as helpless as a kid!’
‘Don’t you mean a goat?’ enquired Shelley wearily, knowing she was right, but unwilling to admit what it might mean. Then, as Sarah came to collect their plates, she met the maid’s insolent stare with some determination. ‘There are predators everywhere, if you choose to look for them,’ she added, watching the look of uncertainty that entered the girl’s eyes. ‘Don’t imagine London has cornered the market. Why, you never know who might be waiting to put a knife in your back.’
Marsha looked at her strangely. ‘That was said with some feeling. What has Dickon been saying to you?’
‘Dickon?’ Shelley expelled her breath as Sarah hurriedly left the room. ‘I don’t believe his name was mentioned.’
‘No, but—well, you spoke with such vehemence, you must have meant somebody. You surely don’t think I—’
‘No. No, of course not.’ Shelley realised she had to make some sort of explanation and sighed. ‘Oh, if you must know, I think Sarah listened in to that call I got from Mike. The—er—the ‘phone pinged—you know; like it does when someone’s put down the extension. And she was the only likely suspect.’
‘I see.’ Marsha whistled through her teeth. ‘Why didn’t you tell me straight away?’
‘Oh—’ Shelley could hardly explain that until Ben had brought it up, she had thought nothing of the betraying sound. ‘I—er—you know how upset I was when Mike ‘phoned. I suppose I forgot all about it.’
Marsha frowned. ‘That girl really will have to go—’
‘Oh, no!’
‘Oh, yes.’ Marsha was determined. ‘I won’t have her eavesdropping on conversations and listening in to calls. It’s not the first time it’s happened. And she’s far too familiar, as I’ve said before. Mrs Braid’s niece is looking for work. I’ll ask her if she’d be interested in taking over Sarah’s duties. She’s a much nicer woman, and she’s at least ten years older.’
‘Oh, Marsha! I wouldn’t have told you if I’d known you’d be likely to fire the girl! I’ll speak to her myself. Really! I’d rather.’
‘I’m sorry, Shelley, but you’ve given me the excuse I’ve been looking for.’ Marsha was adamant. ‘Now, please—don’t give it another thought. I shan’t tell her what you’ve told me. I’ll just say that her behaviour has come to my notice, and leave it at that. She won’t know who to blame. She’ll probably think Mrs Carr has been spying on her.’
Shelley would have protested further, but the sound of the telephone interrupted them. ‘Damn! Right in the middle of lunch,’ exclaimed Marsha aggravatedly; but she went to answer it anyway, and Shelley suspected she was glad of the diversion.
Marsha’s face was flushed when she came back, and Shelley looked up at her half-apprehensively. It wasn’t like Marsha to get so excited about anything, and for a heart-stopping moment, Shelley wondered if her involvement with Ben had been exposed.
‘You’ll never guess what’s happened!’ she exclaimed, and still wary of the explanation, Shelley shook her head. ‘They’re going to do a television special, all about my work,’ declared Marsha excitedly. ‘Can you believe it? A full hour’s programme about me and my paintings. That was Tim Hedley. He’s going to produce it.’
‘Tim Hedley!’ echoed Shelley faintly, recognising the name of Capitol Television’s senior arts producer. ‘I can hardly believe it.’
‘Nor could I,’ Marsha added incredulously. ‘He wants me to go down to London next week for discussions about the format. He’s suggested I spend the night at an hotel—they’re paying, of course—and that way we’ll have a good twenty-four hours to come up with a satisfactory profile. What do you think?’
What did she think? Shelley moistened her lips. In all honesty, she was delighted for Marsha’s sake, but she couldn’t help the unwilling suspicion that Mike was behind it. She couldn’t see what he had to gain by giving Marsha some well-deserved publicity, but it seemed more than a coincidence that the offer should be made at this time.
‘I think you should do it,’ she said now, refusing to allow her doubts to dampen Marsha’s excitement. ‘Really. I think it’s long overdue. They’ll be asking you to chair your own chat-show next.’ She forced a smile. ‘You know—Master Class with Manning! Or Art for Artisans!’
‘Oh—you!’ Marsha was as excited as a girl, and Shelley prayed this was not some clever trick on Mike’s part to get her to do what he wanted. ‘You don’t mind if I go away for a couple of days, do you? I mean—you will be all right here on your own?’
‘Of course I’ll be all right.’ Shelley was quick to put her mind at rest, but as if the younger woman’s innocent expression was too happy, too enthusiastic, Marsha came abruptly back to earth.
‘You don’t think Mike Berlitz is behind this, do you?’ she ventured, watching Shelley’s face intently, and it took all her ingenuity not to reveal her own uncertainty.
‘Now, why should he be?’ she demanded, infusing her voice with exactly the right mixture of reason and logic. ‘What could Mike possibly have to gain by offering you this chance? No.’ Shelley shook her head. ‘It may be that speaking to me reminded him what a marvellous opportunity he was missing.’
‘You’re awfully good for my ego, do you know that?’ exclaimed Marsha at once, but it was obvious Shelley’s words had reassured her. ‘Well—if you’re sure.’ She shook her head. ‘Provisionally we’ve arranged it for next Tuesday and Wednesday.’
Ben arrived, unexpectedly, the following afternoon. For once, Jennifer was with him, and Shelley had to steel herself to face the younger girl’s too-knowing eyes.
‘Oh, Daddy’s much better,’ she replied, in response to Marsha’s immediate enquiry. ‘The doctor says he’s out of danger at last, and we’re hoping to get him home again at the end of next week.’
‘That is good news.’
Marsha was genuinely delighted, and Shelley offered her own good wishes for his complete recovery. As Ben had predicted, it was not easy to speak to Jennifer as if everything was just as before, and she despised herself utterly for the weakness that had forced her into such an intolerable position. How could she do this? she asked herself. How could she stand here, mouthing platitudes, when if Jennifer knew the truth, she would want to scratch her eyes out? And how could she go on with the deception, when by doing so she was destroying her self-respect?
It wasn’t too difficult to find reasons. They were there in plenty. Reasons why she was deceiving Jennifer and betraying Marsha’s trust. And they still sounded quite convincing when she compared them to the alternatives. But they acquired a distinct
ly hollow resonance when she was faced with the real victim of her treachery, and she wondered then if anything was worth such an unholy sacrifice.
Yet, she argued, wasn’t it better for Jennifer not to know of Ben’s infatuation? What would Marsha gain from learning of her son’s obsession? Soon, when she went back to London, he would forget all about her. It was amazing how often distance achieved what proximity could not. What was the point of allowing Ben to break his engagement, just to satisfy some misguided notion of honesty? This way, no one would be hurt. Except, of course, herself—which was only justice, after all.
Even so, and in spite of all her resolution, nothing could prevent the uncontrollable surge of emotion Shelley felt upon seeing Ben again. He came into the living room behind his fiancée, pushing back his sun-bleached hair with a careless hand, his cream silk shirt opened down his chest to expose the muscular beauty of his body. Just the sight of him caused a wave of heat to engulf her, and even the coolness of a halter top and Bermudas could not prevent the hollows of her body from pooling with sweat.
If she had been afraid that he might look at her in a certain way, or cause her any embarrassment, she was soon disabused of the notion. On the contrary, apart from a fleeting appraisal on his arrival, with eyes that held nothing but a polite detachment, Ben showed little interest in her presence, supplementing his fiancée’s news of her father with casual comments of his own.
Inevitably, the conversation moved to Marsha’s exciting offer, and Shelley soon realised that her friend had already broken the news to her son. ‘You must be really flattered,’ said Jennifer, with her usual lack of tact. ‘Did Shelley fix it up for you? That’s the television company she works for, isn’t it?’
Marsha exchanged a rueful grimace with her friend, and then gave Jennifer a generous smile. ‘Would you believe they actually made an independent offer?’ she asked drily. ‘There are one or two people around who really think I’ve got some talent!’
Jennifer coloured prettily. ‘Oh, you know me,’ she exclaimed, as Ben gave her an impatient look. ‘I didn’t mean your pictures weren’t clever, or anything. I just thought it was an obvious coincidence.’
‘Think nothing of it,’ said Marsha, getting up from the sofa. ‘I’ll go and organise some tea. Dickon, will you come and help me? It’s Mrs Braid’s afternoon off, and I don’t like to trouble Mrs Carr.’
Shelley wished Marsha had asked her, but it seemed obvious she wanted a private word with her son. Shelley hoped it was not to do with Sarah. Since hearing of the television special, Marsha had said no more about dismissing the girl, and Shelley was hoping she might dissuade her. She didn’t want Sarah’s disappointment to add to all her other sins, and she felt sure that given time Marsha would relent.
‘Are you still enjoying your holiday?’
Jennifer’s wooden enquiry broke into her thoughts, and Shelley realised belatedly how rude her prolonged silence must have seemed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, contriving a polite smile. ‘I—yes. Yes, I’m enjoying my stay very much. It’s such a pleasant change from the city.’
‘Hmm.’ Jennifer did not look convinced. ‘I’d have thought you’d be climbing the walls by now. Craygill is okay, but you must admit, it is boring.’
‘I’ve not been bored,’ said Shelley honestly, and Jennifer nodded her head.
‘No,’ she said tersely. ‘I understand you’ve been getting Ben to show you around. He doesn’t really have the time, you know. Only he’s too polite to tell you.’
Shelley took a deep breath. ‘I don’t think I’ve been taking up too much of your fiancé’s time,’ she replied carefully. ‘As a matter of fact, his mother and I have seen very little of him since your father was taken ill.’
‘But you did waste a whole morning yesterday with him, didn’t you?’ retorted Jennifer, evidently getting into her stride. ‘And people will start talking if you don’t leave him alone.
Shelley caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Jennifer—’
‘Oh, I know that!’ The girl was contemptuous now. ‘Ben’s not the type to be interested in a middle-aged woman! But he does admire your work, and I suppose he’s flattered, too, that you seem to find him so attractive!’
Shelley was speechless. A middle-aged woman indeed! Well, perhaps that’s how she appeared to Jennifer, she thought ruefully. After all, when she had been Jennifer’s age, anyone over thirty had seemed to have one foot in the grave.
Before she could fashion a reply, Ben and his mother returned, and Jennifer flashed her a warning look, as if cautioning her not to say anything. Shelley had no desire to do so. The girl’s resentment was not misplaced, and it only reinforced Shelley’s own doubts about what she was doing. Perhaps she should take her life into her own hands and go back to London, she thought wearily. She couldn’t go on running away forever and, strangely enough, being with Ben had helped her to get her emotions into perspective. She now knew she had never loved Mike, not even at the beginning, and if she clung to that knowledge, how could he hurt her?
‘Dickon’s suggested that you might like to stay at his house in Low Burton while I’m away,’ Marsha announced, resuming her seat on the sofa as her son deposited the tea tray on the low table in front of her. ‘You don’t have any objections, do you, Jennifer? I know Shelley’s entirely trustworthy.’
‘Oh, really—’ Shelley interrupted before the girl could say anything. ‘I’ll be perfectly all right here, Marsha. Good heavens, Mrs Carr lives in the house, and I’m not a nervous person!’
‘Not usually, perhaps,’ agreed Marsha, pouring tea into delicate porcelain cups. ‘But, you forget, you’ve been ill, Shelley.’ Her eyes met the younger woman’s steadily. ‘And I’d hate to think of you here alone if anything should happen.’
Shelley gasped. ‘What could happen?’ Her eyes turned helplessly to Ben’s. ‘I’m not an invalid!’
Ben shrugged, his expression controlled. ‘What my mother is trying rather unsuccessfully to convey is the possibility that Berlitz might use the opportunity of her being away to come here—’
‘To come here!’ Shelley caught her breath. ‘He wouldn’t do that.’
‘Wouldn’t he?’ Ben met her gaze guardedly. ‘And if he did?’
‘What is all this about?’ Jennifer looked resentfully at each of them in turn. ‘Who is this man you’re talking about? And why should Shelley have cause to be afraid of him?’
‘I’m not afraid of him,’ responded Shelley quietly, and she found to her amazement that it was true. Somehow, by some means she was not prepared to examine too closely, the shadow of Mike’s influence had ceased to intimidate her. Maybe it had something to with the feelings Ben had aroused inside her, or perhaps it was simply the fact that she had realised that there were things more important than being an associate producer.
Jennifer scowled. ‘Then what—’
‘It’s my fault,’ said Shelley quickly, silently appealing for Marsha’s support. ‘Mike Berlitz is my boss in London, and I’m afraid he wasn’t very pleased when he discovered I’d had this—breakdown. He wants me back there, and Ben and his mother are concerned that he may use her absence to try and force me.’
Jennifer sniffed. ‘Is that all!’ She gave her flaneé an impatient look. ‘I’m sure—Shelley—is quite capable of looking after her own interests. He’s only a man, isn’t he?’
‘Only a man,’ agreed Shelley, accepting the cup of tea Marsha handed to her. ‘Really,’ she added, avoiding Ben’s eyes, ‘I can handle it.’
‘If you say so…’
Marsha shrugged, evidently prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt, but Shelley could feel Ben’s frustration. But it was no good. If she stayed at the house in Ditchburn Lane, they both knew what would happen, and the more times they were together made it that much harder to contemplate their eventual break-up. As soon as Marsha’s trip to London was over, Shelley was going to pick up the threads of her own life again,
and if Ben had to be hurt, better now than later.
CHAPTER NINE
THERE was no opportunity for private conversation after that, and as if to assuage some of the frustration he was feeling, Ben became especially attentive to his fiancée. If it was a deliberate ploy on his part to make Shelley jealous, it succeeded, and the muscles of her face froze into a tight mask when he lounged on to the arm of Jennifer’s chair and slipped a casual arm about her shoulders.
‘Would you like me to run you down to the station on Tuesday morning?’ he asked his mother, his hand lazily caressing the back of Jennifer’s neck, and Shelley’s nails drew blood in her palms.
‘No. That won’t be necessary, darling,’ Marsha replied easily. ‘I’ll take the old Austin, unless Shelley will allow me to borrow her XR3.’
‘Of course.’ Shelley was glad of anything to distract her attention from Ben’s lean brown fingers. ‘I—borrow it with pleasure. I shan’t be needing it.’
‘No, you won’t, will you? observed Ben harshly, abandoning his baiting and getting to his feet. ‘Well—it’s time we were leaving a Jennifer, are you ready?’
‘When you are, darling,’ she responded smugly, taking his hand to pull herself to her feet and retaining hold of it as they made their farewells. She gave Shelley a calculating smile. ‘And if I don’t see you again, Miss Hoyt—’
‘What do you mean?’ Marsha narrowly beat her son to the question. ‘If you don’t see Shelley again?’
‘Oh—’ Jennifer gave her future mother-in-law a disarming smile. ‘Miss Hoyt—Shelley—was saying something about how quiet Craygill was when she compared it to London. I got the impression she was feeling homesick. Isn’t that what you said, Shelley?’
It was what Jennifer had said, and they both knew it, but with three pairs of eyes watching her, short of calling her a liar, there was no way Shelley could avoid it. ‘I think you misunderstood me, Jennifer,’ she eventually replied, determined that Marsha should not be hurt by the girl’s reckless words. ‘If I compared Craygill to London, it could only have been in the most favourable of terms. I’d hardly be likely to feel homesick here, when I feel so at home already.’