But even then, a small part of her refused to believe it. Frank was not the man in the story. His name was Ralph and he had been locked away behind bars for his crime. Just because one man fleeced rich women out of their life savings, it did not mean that every man would do the same. Even if they did happen to be good-looking and charming.
Frank had forgotten his wallet, it was as simple as that. Was she really going to condemn him for one mistake?
Even so, she was on her guard when she met him again that night.
Frank noticed it straight away. ‘Are you all right, my love?’ he asked her, all tender concern.
‘Of course.’ She forced herself to smile back, even though her heart felt like lead in her chest.
‘Are you sure? You don’t seem like your sprightly self.’
‘I’m quite well, thank you.’
Thank goodness they were going to the cinema that evening. Usually Miriam enjoyed talking to Frank, but tonight she was so on edge she wasn’t sure she could have spoken more than three words to him.
‘Are you sure you have your wallet with you this time?’ she joked feebly, as they lined up at the box office for their tickets.
‘Yes, of course.’ He looked embarrassed. ‘I do apologise for that, I was utterly mortified. Thank goodness you were there to help me out.’ He reached into his pocket for his wallet. ‘In fact, thank you for reminding me, I must pay you back …’
‘Thank you.’ Miriam took the money, feeling relieved. Frank was no con man, after all, she told herself, otherwise surely he would have found an excuse not to repay her?
Then he ruined it all by saying, ‘Of course, I suppose that’s one advantage of stepping out with a wealthy heiress, isn’t it?’
He laughed, and Miriam tried to laugh with him, but her face muscles were too taut to manage anything but the slightest of smiles.
‘True,’ she said. ‘Although isn’t it rather embarrassing for a bank manager to find himself short of funds?’
His smile dropped a fraction. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’
‘Remind me again, which bank did you say you worked at?’
Frank hesitated. ‘Hardcastle’s,’ he said at last.
‘And which branch?’
He gave her a quizzical half-smile. ‘Goodness me, what is this? Some kind of interrogation?’
‘I was just curious, that’s all.’
‘If you must know, I work in High Holborn. Does that satisfy your curiosity?’
Was it her imagination, or did he seem rather ill at ease?
Miriam smiled. ‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, then added, ‘I hope you didn’t mind me asking?’
‘No,’ he said, irritably. ‘Why should I?’
Why indeed, Miriam thought.
Frank paid for their tickets and they went into the darkened auditorium, where the usherette showed them to their seats. But try as she might, Miriam could not keep her mind on the film.
And neither could Frank. She could feel him shifting restlessly beside her. And when she sent him a sidelong glance, even in the gloom of the cinema she could see the dark frown on his face.
There was definitely something on his mind, she thought. Was it his guilty conscience playing him up? Or had he realised she was on to him?
She tried to put her worries to the back of her mind when she went along to the rehearsal. Last time Miss Tanner had been in charge, and it had been such a jolly affair, ending up with them all having a festive sing-song around the piano. So when she walked into the dining room Miriam was disappointed to see Miss Davis back in her usual place in front of the stage.
She said as much to Violet Tanner. But her fellow ward sister barely seemed to respond. She sat at the piano staring blankly at her sheet music, as if she had never seen it before in her life.
It was going to be an interesting rehearsal, Miriam decided.
And it was. No one was happy to see Miss Davis back in charge, and it wasn’t long before she began to get under everyone’s skin.
Miriam knew her performance wasn’t her best. She couldn’t stop thinking about Frank so she forgot her words and sang slightly off-key. There were only a couple of tiny mistakes, but it didn’t help that Miss Davis sat wincing in the front row.
By the end of the song she knew the Assistant Matron would have something to say to her, and she was ready for her. But to her surprise, Miss Davis dismissed her from the stage without a word. Not even a thank you, she noticed as she swept past her table. As she passed, she tried to glance over the Assistant Matron’s shoulder at the notes she was making, but her spidery scrawl was so tiny Miriam could not make head nor tail of them.
After her came a burly porter, who was doing a magic act. Miriam had been rather impressed by his tricks at previous rehearsals, but for some reason this time nerves seemed to get the better of him – or his assistant, at any rate – and it all went to pot. It ended with the assistant flapping around, trying to pick up a pack of playing cards she had somehow managed to scatter all over the stage.
Miriam actually found it quite amusing, and wondered if it might be good to add a bit of a comedy twist to their act. But Miss Davis didn’t see the funny side. She really let fly at the poor woman, who just stood there and took it. But then the porter jumped to her defence and Miss Davis let him have it too, virtually ordering him off the stage.
Then Miss Tanner tried to step in and sort it out, and the feathers really flew. It ended up with the porter and his assistant walking out, and Miss Tanner following them.
Everyone was rather stunned by their departure, and there was a lot of awkwardness as they all looked round at each other, wondering what to do next. Miriam waited for a moment to see if Miss Davis would ask her to step in and play the piano, just so she could have the pleasure of refusing her. But so many other people started to leave by then, Miriam decided to join them.
Which was how she managed to find herself with an hour to spare in the middle of a snowy Friday afternoon. Just enough time to make a quick trip to Holborn …
At least there was a branch of Hardcastle’s bank to be found on High Holborn. Miriam’s heart had been in her mouth as she made her way down the busy street, half expecting that the whole of Frank’s story might turn out to be a sham.
But there it was, a very solid, respectable-looking building. She only hoped her suitor would turn out to be just as solid and respectable.
As she pushed open the heavy wooden doors, Miriam began to feel rather foolish. Now she was here, her nerve deserted her and she didn’t quite know what to do.
What should she say when she came face-to-face with Frank? She had prepared what she thought was a good story on the bus from Bethnal Green, something about needing advice with an important investment. But it all seemed rather flimsy now she was standing here in the marble-tiled hall, with customers passing to and fro around her. She felt certain that Frank would see straight through her. He would realise she didn’t trust him, and then their romance would be over.
But then she knew that if she didn’t get the reassurance she needed, it would probably be over anyway. A tiny seed of mistrust had been planted in her heart, and she knew it would only go on growing unless she uprooted it quickly.
She went up to the wooden counter with fresh determination. The bespectacled young man peered at her from behind the panel of glass.
‘Yes? Can I help you, Miss?’
Miriam cleared her throat. ‘I’m here to see Mr Tillery.’
Straight away she saw the flash of doubt behind his spectacles. ‘Who, Miss?’
‘Mr Tillery. Frank Tillery? He’s the manager at this branch.’
The young man looked confused.
‘I’m sorry, Miss, but I think you must be mistaken. Our manager is Mr Abbott. As far as I know we don’t have a Mr Tillery working here.’ He must have seen the disappointment on Miriam’s face because he added, ‘But I could ask one of the other clerks? They might know someone of that name …’
<
br /> ‘No,’ Miriam shook her head. ‘No, there’s no need. You’re right, I must be mistaken.’
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, Miss. Perhaps if you try Barclays across the road …’ The young man’s voice followed Miriam as she left the bank.
Miriam stood outside on the pavement, at a loss. The snow that had fallen earlier had turned to dirty slush and the icy wetness seeped through her good shoes.
Don’t you dare cry, Miriam Trott, she warned herself. You’re a fool and you only have yourself to blame.
After all, what did she really expect? Happy endings were strictly for novels, not for the likes of her.
She tried to put it to the back of her mind, but over the following days her anger grew, consuming her. She snapped at the patients and berated the nurses at the slightest excuse. And when she saw a copy of the new Agatha Pendlebury novel lying on a patient’s bedside table, it was all she could do not to fling it on the ward fire.
‘Have you read it, Sister?’ The woman looked up at her, smilingly oblivious. ‘It’s ever so good.’
Miriam looked at the cover. The sight of the couple in a tender embrace made her feel sick.
‘Be Still, My Beating Heart, indeed!’ she snapped. ‘What a foolish notion. You’d be in a lot of trouble if your heart did stop beating, let me tell you!’
She also determinedly ignored Frank’s increasingly desperate telephone calls. Part of her wanted to confront him over his deception, but the other part was too humiliated to face him.
And yet another part of her wanted to see him because in spite of what he had done to her and all the hurt he had caused, her treacherous heart still belonged to him.
In the end her self-righteous side took over. Why should she hide herself away? She had done nothing wrong. And she had no reason to feel humiliated, either. She wasn’t one of the foolish women that Mrs Goodwood had poured such scorn on when she read about them in the newspaper. Miriam was strong; she had found Frank out and outwitted him.
He should be the one slinking away in shame, not her. She decided there and then that she was going to confront Frank Tillery one more time. And she would make him answer for what he had done to her.
Of course Frank had no idea of her intentions when she agreed to go for a walk with him in Hyde Park. Miriam made sure she was late, just to teach him a lesson. She had almost expected him to give up and go home after half an hour. But he was still waiting at the gates, clutching a bunch of red carnations and gazing up and down the road, an anxious expression on his face.
Miriam stiffened like a cat as she approached him. Even now, knowing what he was, she could not stop her heart lifting with happiness at the sight of him.
He saw her and smiled broadly. ‘There you are! I was beginning to worry.’
‘Did you think I’d jilted you?’ Miriam said coldly.
His smile turned to a frown. ‘Not at all. I was concerned that something might have happened to you, that’s all.’ He proffered the bunch of red carnations. ‘These are for you,’ he said. ‘To remind you of the day we first met. Do you remember, at the Palm Court? We both wore them in our buttonholes?’
Of course she remembered. She still had the flower pressed carefully between the pages of one of her novels. She hardened her heart to the memory. He would not charm her again, he wouldn’t.
‘Thank you.’ She took the flowers from him reluctantly, as if they might bite her.
‘Shall we go?’ Frank offered her his arm. ‘Although I’m not sure it’s a good day for walking,’ he added, looking up into the ashen sky. ‘I believe it might snow again later. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to find somewhere warm? I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.’
Of course, Miriam thought bitterly. You wouldn’t want me to sicken and die, would you? Not until you’ve managed to secure yourself as heir to my fortune. The same thing had happened to Morwenna, the innocent heroine of Rake’s Revenge. She was just about to have her inheritance stolen from under her nose by a swindling suitor when Black Jack Craven, the incorrigible rake with a heart of gold, arrived to save the day.
‘I’d prefer to walk, if you don’t mind,’ she said shortly. She anticipated there would be a scene, and she had no desire to make a spectacle of herself in a public place. Besides, it would be easier to walk away from him in a park.
That was what her mind told her, but her heart knew better. Walking away from Frank was never going to be easy.
They walked for a while. Frank did his best to keep up the conversation, but Miriam barely answered him. She was too tense and angry, thinking about what was to come.
How should she approach it? Should she blurt out what she knew? Should she be angry, hurt? She searched her mind, trying to find the right words. But nothing came into her mind. Even her romantic novels failed to offer any inspiration. Morwenna hadn’t ever had to confront her conniving suitor, because Black Jack Craven had shot him in a duel before she had the chance.
Finally, Frank said, ‘Have I done something to offend you, Miriam?’
‘I don’t know. Have you?’ she replied shortly.
He was instantly all concern. ‘I have, haven’t I? I thought I must have when you stopped answering my calls. Oh, my dear, what is it? What have I done?’
Miriam felt her anger building inside her, like a kettle coming to the boil. ‘You tell me.’
He frowned. ‘I don’t understand. You’re speaking in riddles …’
‘You’re the one who speaks in riddles, Frank Tillery. If that is indeed your name!’
She had him, she could tell. His face paled, giving him away. ‘What?’
‘It’s all right, you can spare me the act.’ Miriam turned on him. ‘I’ve been doing some detective work, and I know who you really are – or rather, what you are.’ She looked at him in contempt.
She wanted him to deny it. Even now, she hoped that he might say something, anything, to make her believe it was all a silly misunderstanding. She so desperately wanted it not to be true.
But his shoulders slumped and his face took on a resigned look. ‘I see.’
Miriam’s heart plunged. ‘Is that all you’re going to say?’
‘What else is there to say? You’ve found out my secret.’ He sighed. ‘I might have known you’d work it out sooner or later. You’re too clever to deceive for long.’
She stared at him. Even now, he was trying to flatter her, to wheedle himself out of trouble. He really was utterly sickening.
‘And you’re not as clever as you think you are,’ she retorted. ‘Bank manager, indeed! You don’t even look like a bank manager.’
He smiled. ‘Oh, I don’t know, I think I can look quite respectable when I try.’ He straightened his tie. ‘But I suppose you’re right, it’s time I found myself a new identity. Something that might be a little harder to discover next time, I think. What do you think of fisherman? Or Arctic explorer? I’ve always rather fancied myself as a pioneer …’
He looked so pleased with himself, Miriam wanted to slap the smile off his face. He could have tried harder to convince her, instead of treating it all as a big joke. ‘I’m glad you find it so amusing,’ she snapped.
His mouth curved. ‘Well, you have to admit it is rather funny when you think about it.’
‘I’m sure all those poor women you’ve deceived don’t see it that way.’
Frank’s brows drew together in a frown. ‘That’s a rather strong way of putting it, don’t you think? I don’t think I’ve deceived anyone. More … misled, I suppose. They never find out who I really am, anyway. And if they did, I imagine they’d find it quite … intriguing.’
‘Intriguing?’ Miriam echoed coldly.
‘Anyway, why should they mind, as long as they get to enjoy a little bit of fantasy?’ Frank went on. ‘That’s all I do, after all. I offer them a little bit of excitement, a chance to escape from their humdrum lives for a while. Where’s the harm in that?’
Rage burned inside her. ‘And is that what y
ou think of me? Humdrum?’
‘Oh lord, no! Of course you’re different.’ He looked at her strangely. ‘I say, you’re not seriously upset about it, are you? I mean, I understand you’re cross that I didn’t come clean from the start—’
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Miriam muttered.
‘I was going to tell you, honestly. I thought about it several times. But I suspected you might not approve of the other women in my life—’
‘Of course I don’t approve! It – it’s utterly monstrous.’
‘Oh, come on. It’s only a bit of harmless fun. And it pays rather well, too.’ He grinned sheepishly. ‘How do you think I manage to afford all those afternoon teas at the Ritz? It’s all courtesy of the lovely Vanessa, and the Honourable Lady Hortense and all the other ladies.’ He smiled tenderly. ‘But you must know you’re the only one who has my heart, dear Miriam …’
He reached for her, but Miriam squirmed from his grasp.
‘Don’t touch me,’ she hissed. ‘You’re utterly despicable!’
‘Miriam!’
‘Don’t you Miriam me! You – you think I’d want anything to do with you now I know what kind of a man you are? If you can even call yourself a man!’ she spat.
He looked hurt. ‘I don’t understand … I thought you cared for me?’
‘How can I possibly care for you after what you’ve done?’
‘But I told you, it’s nothing to do with the way I feel about you!’
He reached for her, his hands closing on her arms with surprisingly strength as he swung her round to face him.
‘I love you, Miriam Trott,’ he said huskily.
They were the words she had always wanted to hear, and yet she knew they meant nothing. They were all part of his smoothly rehearsed charm, just like the manly embrace he held her in, and the way he was looking at her with those intense blue-green eyes.
He was a deceiver, but a good one. Even now, Miriam could feel herself weakening.
She steeled herself.
‘How can you possibly love me, when you don’t know me?’ she said, pulling herself from his grasp.
He frowned uncertainly. ‘I don’t know what you mean—’
The Nightingale Christmas Show Page 16