by Jonker, Joan
‘I think that would be a little premature, my dear Marigold, and the day may come when you are forced to eat your words. So I think silence would be a virtue right now, and perhaps for the next few weeks. I’ve a feeling Mrs Sinclair is not going to be an easy conquest.’
The next morning Philip was no further advanced with his secretary for her face showed no emotion whatsoever. She most certainly wasn’t outgoing, didn’t speak unless it was necessary, nor did she smile much. Her greeting to him when he arrived at the office didn’t hold much warmth. Still, he told himself, it was early days yet. He would take things slowly, so she wouldn’t be put off.
Little did Philip know that every movement and every word was calculated to heighten his interest and admiration. When Evelyn crossed her legs it was done slowly, for effect. She sat upright in the chair, shoulders back to emphasise her breasts in the well-fitted maroon dress. Her eyelashes were used to great effect, and her words spoken softly, in a husky voice. To an onlooker, it would be difficult to say which one was the hunter in this room where there was an unmistakable atmosphere.
‘Mr Philip, would you be kind enough to dictate a little faster this morning? Just to see if my speed has improved at all. I did spend an hour on it last night, and feel I have improved a little.’ Evelyn’s big brown eyes held his as she took a gamble. ‘I realise it must be troublesome for you to have been landed with a secretary who isn’t up to speed. I would understand if you thought I wasn’t up to the job and would perhaps prefer to find someone more suited to your needs?’
‘Good gracious, Mrs Sinclair, do you see me as so hard-hearted? I wouldn’t dream of replacing you with someone else. I am sure you are more than capable and we will get along very well together.’ Then came the grin that usually brought results. ‘Besides, where am I likely to find another woman as lovely as yourself? No, from the first time I saw you, I had no doubts that we would suit each other beautifully.’
‘You are very kind, Mr Philip.’ Evelyn thought it was now time for her to pay compliment. ‘There are not many men who would be as patient as you, and I hope you realise I am most appreciative of your understanding. I promise I will repay your kindness, patience, and the faith you have in me. I will not let you down.’
Philip leaned his elbows on the desk. ‘Now it is getting interesting. I wonder how you will repay me, Mrs Sinclair? Would it be by returning favour if I were to ask for one?’
Pretending to be shy, Evelyn lowered her head. This was an opening, but she didn’t want him thinking she was going to be an easy catch. If she gave in too quickly to a man like Philip, he would soon tire of her. ‘Really, you do put me on the spot, Mr Philip. Of course I would be happy to do you a favour, but that would depend upon what it was you were asking of me.’
He chuckled. ‘There’s no reason to look so serious, Mrs Sinclair. I wouldn’t ask you to rob a bank or murder someone. No, it would be a favour we could share and enjoy. Does that not make you curious, not tempt you?’
‘It makes me curious, certainly, but how can I be tempted when I know nothing of your intentions?’
Philip decided to take the plunge. ‘Would dinner at the State Hotel not be tempting? I can assure you they serve excellent food to a very select clientele.’
Evelyn nodded. ‘Ah, yes, the State. It is many years since I was last there, but I do remember they serve excellent food. I also remember the atmosphere there was always pleasant and never noisy.’
‘In that case, would you not like to sample the fare there again, Mrs Sinclair? Just for a couple of hours one evening, when you are free.’
‘I have plenty of free time, Mr Philip, because I have absolutely no ties whatsoever. It is not lack of time that would stop me, but the fact that you are my boss. It might appear to some that any association between us, outside the office, would be inappropriate. I’m quite certain that tongues would wag.’
‘And that would be your only concern, that tongues might wag?’
‘Oh, the concern wouldn’t be for myself, Mr Philip, for I only have myself to consider, and I never listen to gossip, anyway. It is you for whom I would be concerned.’
As he swung the swivel chair from side to side, Philip laughed heartily. ‘My dear Mrs Sinclair, I can assure you that there is, and always has been, lots of gossip about me. Why am I not married, for instance? Thirty years of age and still a bachelor! Oh, I could recount many things I’ve heard said about myself, mostly behind my back. But I am my own person, it is my life, and I really don’t care what opinion people hold of me. I have a lot of true friends, who know the real Philip Astbury, and along with my parents they are the only ones I care about. As for office gossip, well, if anyone dared, I would laugh first, then give them a week’s notice.’
Evelyn allowed herself a rare smile. She wasn’t to know, but when she allowed that her face was transformed and she looked years younger. ‘Oh, that’s very drastic, Mr Philip, I really will have to watch myself. I enjoy working here and would not like to be given a week’s notice for bad behaviour.’
‘Then you had better keep on the right side of me, had you not?’ Philip’s tone was teasing. ‘So, is it to be dinner at the State one night, or do I serve you with a week’s notice?’
‘I am sure I would find it very pleasant, and also sure you would be an entertaining escort. But I must admit to being afraid of what your Uncle Simon would say if he knew? Would he perhaps think me a gold digger?’
‘Good grief, Mrs Sinclair, my uncle is well used to my taking lovely ladies out for meals. So too are my parents. And as I have said, apart from family and close friends, I really don’t care what anyone else thinks about me. So forgot all this tosh, and say you will do me the honour of allowing me to take you out for a meal one night? To cement our friendship, shall we say?’
Evelyn pondered as she tapped her pencil on the note-pad on her knee. ‘And no one in this office would ever find out about it? As I am a very private person, that is important to me.’
‘You have my word.’ Philip was so pleased at the way things were going, he would have promised her anything. ‘The office staff, my uncle, even my parents, won’t be told. Now does that meet all your demands?’
‘They are not demands, Mr Philip, I’m merely making sure my private life remains private. Anyway, I’m not sure I have a dress grand enough for the State, I will have to look through my wardrobe tonight. It is sadly depleted, unfortunately. After my husband died, I lost my zest for parties. But I’m fairly sure I can find something that won’t embarrass you.’
‘And how long am I going to have to wait for this night I am already growing excited about? This week, perhaps?’
Evelyn knew exactly when she would be going out with him, but had to make sure of her clothes first, and also work out what to do about Amelia. ‘If not this week, then definitely next. Although I have to say, I am still not sure that this is a good thing. We have only known each other a week, and after two hours in each other’s company may end up finding we have absolutely nothing in common. I may even find myself out of a job.’
‘I think along different lines, my dear Mrs Sinclair. I believe we are going to get on wonderfully well together.’
Evelyn was in high spirits when she stepped off the tram. Before she’d fallen asleep last night, she had divided her plan into three phases. The first was to captivate Philip Astbury. For once he was hooked, she would never release him. The second phase was to sort herself out with the right clothes. And the third, and perhaps hardest, phase was to find a way of having Amelia minded on the night she wanted to be free. It wouldn’t only be for one night either, she had high hopes of returning permanently to the good life. She couldn’t abandon her daughter completely for if the neighbours found out the girl was in the house on her own they would create ructions. The only person who might be of help was Miss Maudsley. How fortunate the woman was fond of Amelia. But what excuse could she make? It could be tricky. Her neighbour was uneducated but not stupid by any means.
<
br /> Evelyn loitered by a block of shops. It was part of the plan for her to be a little late tonight. She wasn’t seeing anything in the windows, her mind was too full of all she was greedy for. A good life for herself. It could come about, but she must tread carefully or Philip would find out she was a liar and a fraud. She dawdled for a further five minutes, then turned the corner into her street. Reaching Bessie’s yard door via the entry, she paused to force a smile to her face.
‘I’m sorry I’m a little late this evening,’ she said when Bessie opened the door. ‘But I had the most marvellous surprise while I was waiting in Lord Street for my tram home. Standing at the same stop was a girl I went to school with. I haven’t seen her for fifteen years.’
‘Come in.’ Bessie closed the door behind her neighbour and waved her to the living room, where Amelia was playing with a board game. ‘Say hello to yer mother, Amelia.’
The girl lifted her head, the dice in her hand ready to throw. ‘Hello, Mother.’
Her greeting was answered by a nod as Evelyn sat down and carried on with the lie she had rehearsed. ‘Oh, it was truly wonderful! We were both so happy to each other again after all those years. Her name was Elizabeth Donaldson then, but she’s married now and Mrs Waterson. She has two children, both at boarding school, and had been shopping in the city. Her husband was picking her up in his car, they’d arranged for her to be at the tram stop. As Elizabeth said, she could have got a taxi home but her husband wouldn’t hear of it. So we had much to talk about, too little time.’
Bessie had taken a seat next to Amelia. She leaned her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hands. She listened without interrupting, but many thoughts were running through her head. Her usually stuck-up neighbour was being very friendly tonight, too friendly for Bessie’s liking. There was something in the wind, but she was in no hurry to find out what, just let her neighbour carry on. They say if you give liars enough rope they will hang themselves, so this should be interesting. Bessie would bet a pound to a pinch of snuff Mrs Sinclair was lying through her teeth at the moment.
Putting Bessie’s silence down to the fact that she was interested in her news, Evelyn carried on with her make-believe. ‘She asked me to visit her one night so we could talk about our school days and the friends we had. And our teachers, of course, who were very strict and very old-fashioned! But, although I said I would try to visit her, I really don’t see how I can. It would mean leaving Amelia in the house on her own …’
Bessie wasn’t falling for that. And she’d just remembered another saying her mother used to have. It went something like: liars always get found out in the end ’cos they forget who they’ve told lies to. Yes, that was it. She could see her mother’s face now in her mind, saying, ‘Yer need to have a good memory to be a liar.’ And Mrs Sinclair was certainly coming out with some whoppers. ‘Oh, that’s a pity, it would have been nice for yer, talking about yer school days with yer friend.’
Evelyn was growing irritated. She needed to sort something out tonight. Otherwise, if she told Philip tomorrow she hadn’t got a definite date in mind, he’d think she was messing him around, or else hiding something from him. As she was. ‘I wonder if I could go to visit her next Saturday, since you have kindly offered to have Amelia for tea? Would you mind?’
‘It’s got nothing to do with me what yer do, ye’re old enough to make yer own decisions. I’m having Amelia for tea, so what you do in that time is yer own business.’
‘Oh, you are so kind. I will really look forward to catching up with Elizabeth’s news as I don’t get out very often. And would you mind if I was a little late getting home? I should hate to just rush in and out, we have so much to catch up with.’
Oh, so that’s your game, is it? Bessie thought. We’re getting to the root of your lies now. Ten to one there’s no such person as your old school chum Elizabeth. More likely it’s a bloke yer’ve got a date with. Well, if it is, more fool him. He doesn’t know what he’s letting himself in for. ‘Oh, I can’t have Amelia until late, Mrs Sinclair,’ Bessie said, enjoying every second of it. ‘Yer see, I’ve invited Rita Wells and Aggie Gordon for eight o’clock, just to have a birthday bottle of milk stout with me. I thought Amelia would probably have gone by then. And I can’t put Rita and Aggie off now, they’d be upset ’cos they’re me best mates.’ Then, because she was so angry at the way this stuck-up bitch treated her daughter, Bessie rubbed salt in the wound.
‘If it weren’t for that, I’d say Amelia could stay later, even sleep here if it comes to that, ’cos I’ve got a single bed in the back room. But it’s out of the question because I know yer don’t like her to mix with the neighbours or any of the kids in the street in case they’ve got a disease or nits in their head. So I can’t help yer out there, I’m afraid. Perhaps yer could visit yer friend another night, when I can keep Amelia for an extra hour or so?’
Evelyn’s nostrils flared and she felt like hitting out at this silly old woman who would spoil her chances in life, just for the sake of a bottle of milk stout with her common-as-muck friends. But although she was seething, Evelyn didn’t forget the fact that this woman was her only chance, and without her she could say goodbye to all her hopes and dreams. With a huge effort she was able to say, ‘I have no objection to Mrs Wells and Mrs Gordon. I’m sure they would behave very properly with Amelia in their company. And I’m sure my daughter would be very happy to stay until I get home. You really are most kind, Miss Maudsley, I am very lucky to have you as a friend and neighbour. So I accept your offer with deep gratitude.’
Although Amelia had her head bent as it studying the board game, Bessie could feel the tension coming from the girl. It was for her sake that Bessie replied, ‘Well, in that case, Amelia might as well sleep here. I will send her to bed when I think it’s time, or she tells me she is tired.’ She put her arm across the girl’s shoulders. ‘Is that all right with you, sweetheart? Here’s me and yer mother making plans without even asking what you want to do.’
The face that turned to her was aglow. Amelia’s eyes were full of excitement and a smile creased her whole face. ‘Oh, I’d love to sleep here, Miss Bessie.’
‘That’s settled then.’ She got to her feet and gave Evelyn no option but to follow suit. The little woman had had enough of the lying and the high-handedness. ‘Yer may as well go and see to yer meal, Mrs Sinclair, while me and Amelia finish our game of Snakes and Ladders. I’ll send her as soon as the game is over.’
Evelyn was propelled towards the kitchen door. ‘Thank you once again, Miss Maudsley, I will always be indebted to you.’ She was feeling very relieved that the first date with Philip could be set and could see no reason why her neighbour would refuse to help in future. How fortunate it was that she had mentioned the bed in her spare room. ‘It is definite for next Saturday then, is it? You see, I must write and tell my friend I shall be coming, and what time.’
Bessie stood as tall as her four foot eleven would allow. ‘I do not tell lies, Mrs Sinclair, nor do I disappoint a young girl who is looking forward to her birthday celebration. I’ll say goodnight to yer now, and get back to our game of Snakes and Ladders.’ She was never rude or impolite unless she was pushed too far, but this was one time Bessie had gone past the stage where she would try to be polite. But for the sake of the girl she wasn’t going to start a slanging match. Instead, she closed the door in her neighbour’s face.
Chapter Eight
When the knock came on the door of his office, Cyril Lister-Sinclair took off his pince-nez spectacles and laid them on his huge mahogany desk. ‘Come in.’
It was his secretary, Miss Williams, and she was carrying a sheaf of letters in her hand. ‘I have these ready for signing, will you do them now or shall I leave them on the desk and you can ring for me when you have read and signed them?’
‘Yes, leave them on the desk if you will, Miss Williams, and I’ll attend to them shortly. I’m afraid this is one of those days when I really don’t have the energy or the will, f
or work.’
When his secretary had closed the door behind her, Cyril let out a deep sigh. It was seven years now since Charles had been killed in action, and those years had not been kind to him. He had aged considerably, both physically and mentally. He had never come to terms with the loss of his son, and not a day went by when he didn’t grieve for him. Charles had been the reason Cyril had built up a successful business, and become one of the wealthiest merchants in Liverpool. He loved his son dearly, and wanted to make sure he would never lack for anything in his life. He’d been Cyril’s reason for living, and when he was killed there didn’t seem any point any more. Why carry on making more money, or take a pride in his business like he used to, when there was no one to leave it to? No one to take up the reins when he retired.
And at home there was no one who understood his grief, and his need to talk about his son. There were photographs of Charles everywhere, but no one mentioned him and that wasn’t natural. It was his wife’s doing. She’d wanted all the photographs removed because she’d said it broke her heart to look at them. It was one of the few times in his married life he’d put his foot down. His wife refused to mention her son’s name, and said she’d lost the will to live. She was so full of self-pity she didn’t notice her husband needed to talk about Charles, wanted to keep the boy’s memory alive. Most of all he wanted the arms of a loving wife to comfort him. Even the house didn’t seem like a home any more. Once it had been a place where Charles had brought his friends for partying, and the place rang with music, dancing and laughter as they dined on the very best of food and wines. Now the house was silent; even the servants talked in hushed tones. Never any laughter or the hubbub of conversation. Everything changed after Charles was killed.