‘I’d give anything to wipe out that night.’
‘Would you, Tessa?’ He sounded bitter. ‘I’m afraid that’s impossible. You must accept the fact that it happened—and then forget it. If it’s any help—or satisfaction to you,’ he added, ‘I blame myself more than you. Simple actions misconstrued can have disastrous results. Especially when misconstrued by a blundering fool.’
‘Oh, no!’ she whispered.
His mouth twisted with a wry smile. ‘Yes, and an inexperienced child.’ He became grave again as he looked down at her. ‘Now try to forget it—and my distasteful behaviour—please.’
‘Very well, Nicholas.’ She turned away, knowing that this was not the moment to attempt the rebuilding of their old relationship. Only time and understanding could weave the tenuous strands that would cover the scar.
Yet gradually the restraint did lessen, and the sense of awkwardness when she met him became less intense as the days of November passed. And in no way of manner, speech or expression did Nicholas betray if he thought or remembered.
The cheerful companionship of Dennis Gerard did much to help restore Tessa’s confidence and high spirits during the difficult patch. The Sapphire Caprice was enjoying a fast-growing popularity and showing all the signs of establishing itself as a highly successful venture. The most surprising thing was the change in Dennis himself, Tessa mused, putting down the phone one morning in late November after a call from him.
From the rather shallow, cynical veneer overlying a couldn’t-care-less disposition had emerged a quieter, more dominant maturity strengthened with a decisiveness previously unsuspected. He still retained much of the old lighthearted banter, but the essence below was different.
The tapping of the typewriter recommenced, and she watched Nicholas hesitating over the keyboard. Still a little uncertain of him, she moved to the door, then hearing the muttered expletive and seeing him reach for the eraser she turned back and offered:
‘Could I do that for you?’
He vacated the chair immediately. ‘Fire away. I’ve got ten thumbs this morning.’
He lit a cigarette and watched her copy the draft.
‘I suppose that call indicates another night on the town for you,’ he remarked while she stopped to insert a fresh sheet into the machine.
‘Yes, tonight.’ She frowned over an alteration, and he stayed silent until she had finished.
‘By the way, was that enormous postcard this morning from Angie?’
‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘From Bertha.’
The card had puzzled her, arriving out of the blue as it had, and she still could not fathom the reason behind the short, jerky messages it bore. She went in search of it and handed it to Nicholas without comment. Over his shoulder, she studied it again.
The photograph depicted in glaring colours a boulevard under an incredibly blue sky in Los Angeles. On the back, in Bertha’s straggling script, were the stilted sentences:
Working temporary for lovely family. Sorry to leave your mother but you’ll understand. Hope to get back to the theatre soon as I find myself a nice lady to look after. Often think of you. Love, Bertha.
‘I can’t imagine Angie without Bertha. She’s been with us so long.’ Tessa looked pleadingly at Nicholas, almost as though she hoped he could produce a convincing hypothesis that would allay her renewed doubts about Angie.
He handed the card back. ‘It could mean anything. I’m afraid I can’t help you. Employees don’t stay for ever. Perhaps they quarrelled—and Bertha walked out.’ He shrugged. ‘I shouldn’t let it worry you.’
Her expression was still troubled when the evening meal was over. Nicholas folded his newspaper and tossed it carelessly aside.
‘When did you last hear from your mother?’
‘Nearly six weeks ago. And then it was a scrappy affair that told me nothing,’ she said bitterly. She finished her coffee and replaced her cup. ‘Somehow I’ve got a feeling that something has happened to Angie. Oh, I don’t mean a premonition of disaster. But something,’ she ended helplessly.
Nicholas stubbed out his cigarette and compressed his lips. ‘When is she due home?’
‘Some time next month. By Christmas, anyway. But it all seems so uncertain.’
‘Hm! Never mind, Tessa. Perhaps you’ll be here for Christmas after all.’ He pushed his cup aside and stood up. ‘What time do we expect you back from tonight’s jaunt? Or will it be tomorrow morning?’
‘I’m afraid,’ she regarded him with wide eyes, ‘nearer your second guess. It’s a Gala night, Dennis tells me.’
‘And you’ll be hungry when you come in.’ His smile teased as she stared.
‘Oh, yes, Florence informed me about the raids that are made on the pantry after these occasions.’
She laughed, then her expression sobered. ‘I’m hoping to see Col Redpath tonight. He might have some news about Angie.’
Something like pity narrowed Nicholas’s eyes. He said gently, ‘It’s time you got ready. I’ll entertain Gerard if he arrives before you come down.’
Dennis was in the study with Nicholas when Tessa returned downstairs. Their conversation ceased abruptly when she entered. She was wearing a new dress bought specially for the occasion. Thistledown nylon lace covered a silver, slim-fitting sheath of severest cut, uncluttered by trimmings, and her dark hair was drawn back tightly from her face into the confine of a narrow silver band, accentuating the slender line of throat and shoulders.
Nicholas stepped forward, and for the first time met the new maturity in her eyes. A sudden lowering of her glance made him aware that he was staring, and he took the wrap from her arm and placed it round her shoulders with deliberate movements.
From the background Dennis watched, a curious expression coming with the sideway tilt of his head, as Nicholas’s hands lingered over the clasp at Tessa’s throat a moment longer than was necessary.
Her heartbeats quickened, Tessa drew away and walked out into the cold night air.
Dennis drove fast, without his usual backfire of chatter; the silence of the night broken only by the purr of the engine and the swish of passing vehicles. Some time elapsed before he said thoughtfully:
‘You know, methinks there’s a softening up setting in behind that granite exterior.’
Lulled by the silence, Tessa had allowed her thoughts to drift far from Dennis. Jolted from her meditation, she was quite unable to follow the gist of his words.
To her apologetic exclamation he replied succinctly,
‘The rot’s set in.’
‘I’m sorry, Dennis, I was miles away. Start again, please.’
Grumbling, he said, ‘That kind of thing loses its effect when you have to start again.’ In a flat voice he repeated his former remarks.
She sat up sharply. ‘What do you mean? Who?’
Dennis shot her a quick sidelong glance. ‘No need to sit there wide-eyed and innocent. You know perfectly well what and who. His Lordship, and none other.’ When she did not reply he said suddenly, ‘I do believe the innocence is genuine after all.’ One corner of his mouth tilted in a quizzical half grin. ‘You don’t understand us very well, do you, Tessa?’ And seeing her puzzlement, added, ‘Us—the masculine sex.’
‘If you mean Nicholas—no,’ she said sadly.
‘It beats me.’ Dennis shook his head, then cursed as a heavy transport lorry loomed ahead. Driving engaged his attention until he had circumnavigated the monster and reached a straight stretch.
He said, ‘How he maintains that chilly reserve—with you under his nose all these months, without—’ He broke off, leaving the unspoken words for her imagination to complete.
‘Without what? How do you know, Dennis?’ Impulsively she adopted a mysterious tone, partly to subdue her own longings and partly with the faint hope that Dennis might divulge something from which those longings could draw comfort.
‘Come off it, Tessa. I know.’
The candid words wiped the attempted guile from her
expression. She listened as he continued: ‘It makes me wish I’d been in his shoes. I’d have made sure that the gaps in your education were satisfactorily filled. What every girl should know,’ he added slyly.
‘No doubt,’ she said dryly, trying to keep her tone light. ‘But Angie didn’t choose you for the job.’
‘Just as well. I suppose that’s why he warned me off.’ Dennis smiled reminiscently as she gave a small surprised gasp. ‘We had words, my sweet,’ he said in bass tones. ‘But do you blame me? Naturally I assumed he had his own ideas regarding you, but with the Queen of Hearts apparently all set to reign again I thought, to hell with you, Nicholas. And sought a grain of encouragement from you, my infant.’
In silence Tessa assimilated this.
‘But you didn’t give me very much.’ He sounded whimsical.
‘You’ve never liked Nicholas, have you, Dennis?’ she said with a sudden intuition, watching his fingers tighten on the wheel and knowing her surmise to be correct.
He did not rush in with either an indignant denial or disrespectful flippancy as once he would have done. Instead he replied with one of his rare flashes of genuine sincerity.
‘Often a dislike may arise from envy of a man’s possessions rather than dislike of the man himself. It grows much more insidiously than the open antagonism sparking from a clash of character. So—unreasonably perhaps—I did not like Nicholas because I envied him.’
Fastening on to the past tense, she said slowly, ‘Does that mean you now feel you’ve achieved equality in some way?’
‘Clever little girl.’ Dennis stopped the car and rested one arm over the wheel. ‘I’m now living my life the way I want to. Not the way other people wish.’
By other people she guessed he meant his parents.
‘And if the portents hold true I shall be successful. Not just materially, but also integrally. No thanks to Nicholas, though,’ he added with a mock frown.
‘Why?’
‘He was one of the many I approached on the subject of hard cash some time ago. You’ve no idea how friendship withers when you mention money.’ Dennis made a face. ‘Nicholas being no exception.’
To Tessa, who had known nothing of Dennis’s plans until they were an accomplished whole, Nicholas’s refusal was no surprise. Somehow she could not imagine him considering the formerly improvident Dennis and a costly initial outlay on a nightclub an inviting proposition for investment. Not wishing to be drawn into an argument concerning Nicholas’s personal viewpoint, she said gently:
‘Circumstances alter cases. He may have had reasons for refusing of which we know nothing.’
‘Naturally you’ll defend him,’ Dennis said rather stiffly, but without malice. ‘I could hardly expect you to do other.’
He smiled at the warm glow that came into her cheeks, and she said a little wildly: ‘I wasn’t exactly trying to defend him. Only not to take sides.’
‘You couldn’t, Tessa. Remain impartial, I mean. Don’t worry, I’ve guessed your secret. And it’s quite safe with me.’ His expression left her in no doubt of his meaning and she looked away in confusion.
‘Is it so obvious?’
Quickly he reached across and covered her hand with a reassuring gesture. ‘Not really. I happen to have been taking particular notice of you—and Nicholas—lately, therefore it doesn’t come as a surprise to me.’
He paused. ‘Only I expected—’
She glanced at him uncertainly as he stopped, and he smiled. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you my personal opinion. I might be wrong. And after tonight—’ Again he broke off disjointedly. ‘Let’s go, Tessa, before I say things I didn’t intend to say until the evening was over.’
She sensed a suppressed anxiety and a certain amount of tension behind his cheerful smile as he said: ‘Let’s have a lovely evening and forget our future hopes for a few hours.’
After depositing her wrap Tessa took a vacant stool in the long, mirrored powder room and lightly touched a puff to her heated face. Thoughtfully she tucked back an escaping tendril of hair and regarded her reflection with doubtful eyes as she considered the conversation with Dennis and his unerring assessment of her feelings for Nicholas. The oval face in the mirror betrayed unease, then a hint of rising panic. If Dennis had guessed so easily—the wide eyes darkened with dismay—had Nicholas? Especially after ... And because of his inherent kindness and a certain affection she knew he had always held for her did he feel compassion? Was that the reason for his more understanding attitude during the past week or so? And for the disturbing glances she had occasionally intercepted, such as tonight when he fastened her wrap. As if I was a small girl being got ready for a party, she thought bitterly, wrenching her gaze contemptuously from the anguished one in the mirror.
If only Angie would come home. She bit her lips. How could she go on seeing him every day—if he knew? With trembling fingers she retouched her lipstick, and went to join Dennis.
‘Honestly! The time you women take when you disappear behind the sacred portals.’ Dennis took her arm and guided her towards the lounge. ‘We have an engagement toast to drink first. Guess who?’
‘I can’t.’ Tessa searched for a glimpse of someone she knew and shook her head. Then she saw a fiery mop of curls beside a smooth fair head that evoked a memory of a weekend several months past, and she knew. A few moments later excited exchanges of congratulations were flowing round Miranda and Bob Gleadon. A crowd of young people, all strangers to Tessa, joined them in the drift to the ballroom, where the celebration toast showed signs of being prolonged indefinitely.
Suddenly the alcove seemed stifling to Tessa and she moved away from the noisy group, conscious of distaste for the glass of champagne in her hand. Across the dance floor she looked for the tall thin frame and tousled head of Col Redpath, but she could see no sign of him.
At last Dennis asked with a hint of irritation as they danced: ‘Why the searching glances over my shoulder all evening? Who are you expecting?’
He frowned when she explained, and said dryly, ‘He’s been here for some time. As a matter of fact, he’s propping up the bar, so I wouldn’t advise joining him.
‘Why not?’
‘Because he’s celebrating a new commission—too well. Because I doubt if you’d get any sense out of him. And because I don’t care for his boozy companions, that’s why, Tessa.’
‘Oh,’ she said in a small voice.
The music changed to a waltz and Tessa automatically matched her steps to those of Dennis. Aware of her failure to respond to the new mood of the dance, Dennis sighed and guided her to a quiet corner.
‘As Col is obviously on your mind I’ll bring him to you. Wait here,’ he directed with a hint of irritation, and hurried away.
Presently he returned with a surprised-looking Col at his side. She looked at the thin face, seeing the usually pale skin flushed with wine and the vague eyes flickering over her. He greeted her effusively and she forced herself to smile naturally. Dennis hovered behind, barely concealing his desire to sweep Tessa away and his disapproval of Col’s appearance. Tessa bit back a smile, remembering a certain occasion at the Silver Birch, and reflecting that responsibility had certainly changed Dennis’s outlook in one respect, at least.
She turned to Col.
‘I wondered if you’d heard any news of Angie. Or when the show finishes.’ Her voice was low. It seemed so ridiculous to be asking an acquaintance for news of one’s own mother. ‘I haven’t had a letter for ages,’ she added, seeing Col’s hands go up to his already disordered hair.
‘You mean you really don’t know?’ he giggled at last. ‘She kept it a secret even from you?’
Annoyance made her impatient, and foreshadowed the ominous presentiment that Col was the possessor of some disturbing information. Through the haze of alcohol he tantalized: ‘But I told you, ages ago. Don’t you remember?’
‘No,’ she said tartly, repressing the desire to add, you were sober then.
‘I th
ought I did.’ A vacuous smile spread over his face. ‘I could have sworn I told you. Of course she’s all right.’ He began to laugh and on a rising note cried: ‘She’s married!’
Married! Tessa gripped the arm of her chair as she struggled for control. Angie married! She couldn’t believe it. Surely it must be a fantasy born of Col’s befuddled imagination. When her voice came it was thin and far away.
‘Who? And when?’ was all she could manage.
‘It’s been a shock,’ Col said sympathetically. ‘Bring her a drink, old man.’
Hiding his annoyance, Dennis hurried off, while Tessa stared unbelievingly at Col. He patted her hand, seeming to have sobered up a trifle, and said:
‘The show closed last week, and I do know that Angie didn’t tell a soul about her plans. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t bumped into Julius—remember him? The lighting bod—yesterday and he told me. He’d just come back and he was at the wedding party.’ Col rose to his feet. ‘It happens that he’s here tonight. Come and meet him—he’ll tell you the whole story.’
‘No,’ said Tessa sadly. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
Col sat down again. He said awkwardly, ‘You’ll be all right, Tessa. I hear he’s a nice chap. Name of Martin Jeyebell. I gather he’s haunted Angie for months. And he’s almost a millionaire,’ Col added, as though this should bring automatic balm.
She hardly heard his last sentence. The endless questions chased through her mind, and she was only vaguely aware of Dennis coming back and putting a cold glass into her hand. She did not want the cocktail, but obedient to Dennis’s urging she sipped it, her one wish to be alone until the enormity of what she had been told deflated and she could see with a clearer perspective.
Somehow the evening got over and she was getting thankfully into Dennis’s car, blessing him for his understanding in restraining idle chatter during the return journey.
The Dutch Uncle Page 15