by Penny Jordan
‘Don’t be frightened of life,’ she was always urging her. ‘Jump in and enjoy it.’
‘Susannah isn’t the jumping-in type. We British aren’t,’ Neil had palliated, and yet somehow even his kind words left a slight sting.
A sting that was intensified now. How much of her rejection of David had to do with what she genuinely believed to be right, and how much was because she was terrified of the implications of committing herself to him? Was it because Emily had always held her firmly at a distance that she herself was unable to allow anyone to get close, really close to her?
Angry with herself, she hurried into her bedroom, pulling a brush through her tangled curls, and quickly changing out of her jeans and sweatshirt into the separates she had bought for herself the previous week.
At first sight, pink and black might not seem the best choice of colours for a redhead, but she had the colouring to get away with them, and the pink was of that soft, intensely feminine variety that made those who could not wear it gnash their teeth with envy.
The dress, her case and the present she had bought for Mamie were all speedily packed into her Fiesta, the flat locked up and the alarm set. She should be there in time for lunch. The afternoon would probably be taken up with a multitude of last-minute tasks for Mamie, and then there would only be the evening to be got through. Thank God, Mamie knew nothing about David…David… Even now, part of her wished…
What? she derided herself. That by some magic process he could miraculously be free? But he wasn’t free, and she didn’t think she could live with herself or him, knowing that he was prepared to turn his back on his child. Susannah wasn’t sentimental where children were concerned, but she had been brought up to recognise the importance of facing up to one’s responsibilities. And, if she was honest with herself, she didn’t know how she would cope with loving a man who had already previously committed himself to another woman.
Stop thinking about him, she admonished herself. It’s over…
Easier said than done, but one look at her face would alert Mamie to the fact that something was wrong, and then she would pry and question, and Susannah really didn’t think she was capable of dealing with Mamie’s curiosity, however well meant.
She tried to think about something else—about the praise Richard had given her for that piece on the siege victim. He had been enthusiastic and flattering about her talent. He had prophesied that she would go far. But Richard was leaving and Hazard Maine was taking his place. What would he be like, this American who had spent his life between continents, when he wasn’t reporting from some war-torn part of the globe?
She had read up his biog. They all had, once they had known that he was taking over the editor’s chair. He was thirty-four years old, ten years older than she was; unmarried. That had surprised her until she remembered that he had been a war correspondent, and war correspondents rarely married. He had edited papers in New York and Sydney, and now he was going to head Tomorrow, MacFarlane’s most prestigious publication.
Jokes had flown round the office about ‘wild colonial hicks’ and ‘clever New York hacks’, but none of them really knew what they were going to have to face. He had a formidable reputation; he was coming in with the power to hire and fire at will, to make his own rules and to do what he wished with the magazine. They had heard that much on the grapevine. Just as they had also heard that, at first, he had turned down the job, claiming that he was a newspaper man and that magazines, no matter how highly prized, did not interest him.
At least, that was the gist of what he had said. Rumour had it that his actual phraseology had been considerably more earthy!
Apart from being rather in awe of his professional reputation, Susannah had no strong feelings about Hazard Maine. She had run out of feelings of any kind. She simply felt she wanted to be left alone to pick up the pieces of her life. She knew that she was going to miss Richard. One or two of the staff had teased her about him, but no one who knew Richard could ever seriously imagine that his interest in her was anything other than professional.
Richard was very much in love with his wife. He had to be to give up a job he loved to take one in which he had very little interest but, as he had told Susannah, he felt he owed it to Caroline.
‘Newspaper men don’t make good husbands, she says, and she’s quite right. Now that the boys are growing up, they need me around. At the moment, I only really see them at weekends, and then not always as much as I should.’
Like her, Richard had been brought up with what was now considered an old-fashioned code of ethics. Susannah liked and admired him. She knew she was going to miss him, as a boss and as a mentor.
Neil and Mamie’s ‘new’ home was a seventeenth-century manor house, approached by a narrow curling drive that hid the stone façade with its mullioned windows from view right until the last moment.
Mamie, with typical American energy and enterprise, had had the inside almost completely gutted since moving in. Experienced and expensive designers had been brought in, and Susannah, who had rather liked the original shabby comfort of the place, was not particularly looking forward to seeing the changes they had wrought.
Several cars were already parked in front of the house, and she reversed her Fiesta into a small space left to one side of a large and very new-looking Jaguar saloon. She always parked next to new cars if she could. It meant the owners were likely to be that bit more careful about opening their doors on her paintwork, or so she always hoped.
The front door opened as she walked towards it and Mamie hurried out to embrace her. The soft tweed skirt, the pastel cashmere sweater, the pearls, all of them were perfectly co-ordinated, and so obviously chosen to fit in with their wearer’s background, that Susannah had to suppress a faint grin. Typical Mamie!
‘You’re too thin,’ she was told firmly. ‘And too pale. What have you been doing with yourself?’
‘Working,’ Susannah told her. ‘And, as for being too thin, I thought no woman could be that.’
‘There’s thin, and then there’s thin,’ Mamie pronounced darkly. ‘And you, my girl, are thin. It doesn’t suit you.’
‘Thanks, Mamie.’
Elegant eyebrows lifted towards the older woman’s beautifully styled silver-grey hair. ‘My goodness, you are prickly today.’ The smooth, unlined forehead creased slightly. ‘Susannah, is something wrong?’
Oh, heavens, this was the last thing she needed! Susannah bit down hard on her bottom lip. ‘No, I… You’re right. I think I must have been working too hard. If I apologise for feeling grouchy, will you show me round the house?’
She linked her arm through Mamie’s, deliberately forcing herself to withstand the older woman’s concerned inspection.
‘Apology accepted,’ Mamie said at last, patting her hand. ‘And don’t worry. I won’t indulge myself by taking you up on your self-sacrificing offer.’ She made a small moue. ‘I know that you preferred the house as it was before. You’re just like Neil. He thought we would move in and not touch a thing,’ she scoffed. ‘You English. How you hate change!’
They laughed together, harmony restored, and Susannah allowed herself to feel a small surge of relief. She had forgotten how sharp Mamie could be. She would have to be careful not to betray herself again. She knew that both Mamie and Neil were deeply fond of her. She had no wish to spoil their party by giving them cause for concern.
‘Have Paul and Simon arrived yet?’
‘Last night.’ Mamie rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘Much as I love my grandchildren, I have to admit that en masse…’
‘What’s that, Ma? Not tired of us already?’
Paul was the image of Neil, his father, Susannah reflected, as the younger of the two boys enveloped her in a bear hug.
‘And how’s our little red-headed godsister? Good heavens, girl, what have you been doing to yourself? There’s nothing of you!’
‘That’s just what I’ve been telling her.’
‘Where are Sarah and the b
oys?’ Susannah asked, disentangling herself from Paul’s hug.
‘We’re all in the conservatory. Come on in. Ethel’s just made coffee.’
Ethel was the housekeeper who had been with Mamie and Neil for as long as Susannah had known them. At first, she had flatly refused to leave London, but somehow Mamie had persuaded her.
As they walked into the conservatory, Susannah could see out into the large rear garden, where a marquee had been erected. The whole area was a busy hive of activity, with caterers dashing to and fro, and florists still putting the final touches to their work.
Susannah already knew the two girls Simon and Paul had married, although two new babies had been added to the family since she had last seen them, and they had to be duly admired and cuddled before she could turn her attention to their grandfather.
Retirement suited Neil, she admitted, smiling at him. He was a gentler character than Mamie. Not perhaps as shrewd, but very astute in his own way.
Lunch was a relaxed affair, the conversation flowing freely. It had been almost twelve months since the whole family had last been together, and there was a good deal of gossip to catch up on. Susannah was quite content to sit on the sidelines, putting in the odd comment where appropriate.
‘And what about you, Susannah?’ Simon asked. ‘Still with the magazine?’
‘Yes…and still loving it.’
Was that a touch of defiance in her voice? Much as she liked both men, there was no getting away from the fact that Paul and Simon were rather old-fashioned when it came to women and careers. Both their wives seemed more than content with their family and home lives, but Sarah had been a consultant before marriage, and Emma a highly successful model.
Neither of them, it seemed, missed their busy careers. Was that what love did for you? Susannah wondered bleakly. Did it rob you of all ambition and drive? Had she felt like that about David? Would she have been content to change her whole life-style and to stay at home while he…
While he betrayed her as he had done his wife?
The unpalatable thought wouldn’t go away. This, she knew, was what lay at the root of her determination to break away from him—this fear, this lack of trust.
‘Hey, where have you gone?’
Teasingly, Simon tugged her hair, bringing her out of her thoughts and back into the conversation.
This was the closest thing she had ever known to real family life, and yet even here she remained on the fringe…outside the magic, charmed circle, in some way.
Gradually, the lunch party broke up. Mamie had to talk to the caterers, Neil had some phone calls to make. The children were getting fractious and were borne away by their respective mothers. Paul and Simon were deep in some private conversation. Susannah got up and started to collect the empty plates. She might as well see if she could give Ethel a hand in the kitchen.
* * *
Susannah was upstairs in her room, getting ready, when she heard the first of the guests arrive. Late in the afternoon she had gone for a walk, and had been away longer than she had planned. Walking eased her thoughts, it also brought back painful memories. Why was it possible to miss a man she knew she was better off without? She did miss David, even though she knew she had made the right decision.
Sighing faintly, she towelled the last of the moisture from her shower off her skin. Her hired dress was still in its box, and belatedly she remembered that she ought to have got it out and pressed it. She shrugged fatalistically. It was too late now and, besides, Mamie was the star of the evening. No one was likely to notice a few creases in her rather drab dress.
She opened the box, frowning slightly as she caught the shimmer of blue through the tissue paper. Blue… The dress she had chosen was grey, surely?
Uncertainly she lifted it out of the paper, her mouth falling open in shock. This wasn’t the dress she had hired! Dry-mouthed with shock, she stared at it. This was nothing like the dress she had hired. This… Never in a thousand lifetimes would she ever have chosen anything as exotic, as downright…provocative as this dress, with its tightly moulded bodice and its flaring thirties-style fishtail flouncing skirt.
The ruched bodice glittered and sparkled beneath her fingers. She couldn’t wear it! But she had no option. Already she was late.
Cursing beneath her breath, she looked at the underwear she had already laid out. There was no way she was going to be able to wear a bra underneath it.
Gritting her teeth, she pulled it on, not daring to look at her reflection for several seconds.
When she did, she was amazed by how red the intense blue made her hair appear, and how white her skin. Aunt Emily would most definitely not approve; the dress was everything she deplored. It wasn’t so much that it was actually vulgar—indeed, the neckline was relatively modest—but it was the way the ruched fabric hugged every line of her torso right down to her knees before flaring out in that provocative fishtail froth of net and silk.
She couldn’t wear it. She was just about to take it off when Mamie walked into her room.
The older woman looked elegant and soignée in a dress of soft coral silk. Her eyebrows lifted when she saw Susannah.
‘Oh my, that really is something!’
‘They gave me the wrong dress,’ Susannah told her weakly. ‘This is nothing like what I was intending to wear.’
To her shock, Mamie chuckled.
‘Oh, my dear, if you could just see your face! It suits you, you know. The whole effect is very…very challenging: provocative and yet coolly remote. It will drive the men wild.’
‘I don’t want to drive them wild,’ Susannah told her crossly. ‘Mamie, I can’t wear this…’
‘Unless you’ve brought something else with you, you’re going to have to,’ Mamie told her crisply, adding caustically, ‘Susannah, for heaven’s sake! You aren’t your Aunt Emily, you know. There is nothing wrong with the dress, and it suits you to perfection. You’re a woman, not a child; just for once in your life be one.’
She was gone before Susannah could retaliate. Was that how people saw her? she wondered miserably. Mamie had made her feel like some kind of freak, like… Oh, for goodness’ sake, what was she getting so worked up about? It was only a dress. What did it matter if it wasn’t the one she had chosen?
Her head lifted, her chin tilting proudly. So Mamie thought she didn’t know how to be a woman, did she?
Head held high, she made her way downstairs.
Neil and Mamie weren’t having a formal receiving line, so Susannah was free to mingle with the guests who had already arrived: old friends of Mamie and Neil’s from London in the main, people she already knew and felt quite at ease with.
It wasn’t until she saw Simon that she realised how dramatically different the dress made her look. His eyebrows lifted, his mouth pursed in a silent whistle.
‘Wow! What happened to you, Red?’ he demanded teasingly.
‘Nothing,’ she told him flatly, both irritated and at the same time faintly embarrassed by his openly male inspection of her. ‘And don’t look at me like that.’
‘No, don’t,’ agreed his wife, Emma, joining them and giving Susannah a friendly smile. ‘Love your outfit. Lucky you to be able to wear it.’ She grimaced ruefully and patted her hips. ‘I do envy you being so slim.’
‘Nonsense, woman, you’re perfect as you are,’ Simon told her firmly. ‘Are you sure you’re up to the consequences of wearing an outfit like that?’ he teased Susannah over his shoulder as he took his wife’s arm. ‘If not…’
‘Stop tormenting her, Simon,’ Emma commanded him, firmly leading him away.
But it was too late, the damage was done; Susannah immediately felt awkwardly conspicuous, her small stock of courage dwindling away. The best thing she could do would be to find herself a dark corner and to hide away in it until she could safely escape to her room. Aunt Emily had been right, she thought grimly, men did judge a woman on how she dressed. She had never really thought about it before, but now she could see what h
er aunt meant.
Normally, she didn’t waste much time or concern over her clothes; her life was far too busy for that. Comfortable, loose-fitting skirts or well worn jeans comprised her normal working wear. Busy reporters didn’t have time to worry about looking glamorous.
Glamorous? She made a face at herself in the rococo mirror hanging in the hall. What an out-of-date word! But then, she was out of date, in some respects, at least. She still felt bruised and sore from her last meeting with David. He had accused her then of leading him on, of being a ‘tease’, although his language had been stronger and very offensive. She had seen him in a new light then—not just as a weak man, but as an unkind one as well. She told herself that she had had a lucky escape, but that didn’t make the pain inside go away.
The interior designers had done their work well, she admitted as she slipped into Neil’s study in order to avoid the chattering group of people making their way down the hall.
When she had first seen the house, before Neil and Mamie had moved in, this room had been very neglected, the panelling on the walls in a very poor state of repair. Now it had been cleaned and treated, the stone fireplace restored and Neil’s antique partner’s desk installed, the designer touches showing only in the clever co-ordination of fabrics and ornaments. She rather liked the richness of the paisley fabric chosen for the curtains, she admitted. It went well with the heaviness of the dark red leather chesterfield. This would be a comfortable retreat for Neil, somewhere where he could come to read his papers and escape.
Behind her, the door opened and she stiffened, surprised out of her resentment at being discovered by the unexpectedness of Richard’s familiar voice. ‘My goodness, you do look…’
‘Don’t, please,’ Susannah begged, interrupting him. ‘I think I’ve already heard as much as I want to hear about my changed appearance from Simon.’
She knew she sounded far more irritated than the circumstances warranted, and it wasn’t Richard’s fault that the shop had got their orders muddled up. She bit her lip and apologised.