Dangerous Male

by Marjorie Lewty

  She stood in the middle of the long room thoughtfully biting on the tip of one finger. It couldn't be possible that she was going to miss him, could it? She pushed the thought aside. Of course she wasn't, she was glad he wouldn't be here. Perhaps what she would miss was something dynamic about him, an aliveness that seemed to link with something in herself that she hadn't— until now—suspected.

  'Oh, I don't know,' she said aloud, impatiently. She would concentrate on her work and forget about the man himself, as he had no doubt already forgotten about her.

  As she began to tidy up his desk there was a tap on the door and it opened a little way to disclose the diffident face of the young architect, Derek Underhill, under the flop of brown hair. He looked to right and to left, then 'Hullo,' he mouthed silently, seeing Gemma. And—jerking his thumb towards Harn's desk—'Has he gone?'

  She grinned. 'Yes, he's gone. Come in.'

  The young man advanced into the office, pantomiming relief. 'Good. I didn't want to run into any more snags and objections from your chief today. I came back because I'm missing a list of specifications that was clipped onto one of the plans I had spread out on the desk, earlier on. Have you come across it, by any chance?'

  Gemma picked up a slip of paper from Harn's desk. 'Is this it? I've just noticed it.'

  'Eureka! Yes, that's the little beauty. How clever of you to find it. You must be the perfect secretary.' He gave her a frankly admiring glance. 'Isn't she supposed to be able to lay her hand on anything at a moment's notice?'

  Gemma laughed. 'I doubt if I'd qualify, not yet anyway. I've only been a secretary for two half-days.'

  He leaned against the desk, regarding her with disbelief. 'Really? You're not pulling my leg? You seem very cool and competent to me.'

  'That's just a bold front.' Gemma smiled wryly. 'Actually, I'm dithering inside most of the time.' She walked down the office and began to put together the papers on her own desk.

  Derek Underhill followed and stood watching her. After a moment's silence he said, 'I imagine friend Durrant isn't the easiest of men to work for. I expect you need a bold front.'

  That was a blatant quiz. He couldn't have failed to notice the way Harn had pulled up her chair close to his, the way he had deliberately touched her arm as he stretched across the desk.

  She said nothing, and after another silence, longer this time, Derek picked up a Biro from the desk and twiddled it between finger and thumb. 'Would you give me you advice on something if I asked you?'

  Gemma turned surprised blue eyes on him. 'Me— advise you? It sounds very unlikely but—'doubtfully'—I suppose I would if I could. About what?'

  He said quickly, 'Look, you haven't had lunch yet, have you? Would you share a sandwich with me and I'd explain?'

  'Well—' Gemma hesitated. Derek Underhill seemed a pleasant, inoffensive young man, but if he was going to try to involve her in any way about the plans for the new office it might be awkward. Her loyalty was to Harn Durrant, her employer, bully though he might be.

  'Please? pleaded the young man, and Gemma hadn't the heart to put him down.

  'All right,' she said. 'But I doubt if I can help you. If it's anything to do with the plans for the new building, I can't—'

  'No, not really,' he said quickly. 'This isn't industrial espionage or anything dramatic like that, I promise you.'

  Gemma laughed and picked up her handbag. 'Right then, let's go!'

  On the way out she put her head inside Mrs Brown's office. 'Just going out for a bite of lunch, Mrs Brown. I'll only be half an hour or so and I've locked the office upstairs. That all right with you?' She put the key on Mrs Brown's desk.

  That lady raised her head from a hefty accounts book she was writing in, in a beautifully neat hand, and said, 'I usually go at one. Be back by then, will you, dear?' She smiled and added, 'He got off all right, then?'

  Gemma pulled a face. 'Rather a rush at the end, but we got through.'

  Mrs Brown raised her eyebrows meaningly. 'We'll have a bit of peace for a few days, then.' She went back to her accounts book.

  Gemma joined Derek Underhill outside and they walked to a sandwich bar in the High Street and settled down at a corner table with coffees and a plate of sandwiches between them.

  Derek smiled across the table at Gemma. 'This is nice and friendly. I'm glad Durrant didn't want to take you to London with him.'

  Gemma gave him a direct look. 'Why should he?'

  'Oh well—' he flushed faintly '—men do take their pretty secretaries around with them, I've noticed.' He pulled a contrite face as he saw her expression. 'Sorry if I've spoken out of turn.'

  'You have,' Gemma said shortly. She felt angry, but not with Derek. With Harn Durrant for having deliberately given the wrong impression, not once but twice. 'What did you want to ask me about, Mr Underhill?'

  'Oh, Derek, please,' he said. 'Look, don't hold it against me, Gemma, and I may call you Gemma, mayn't I? It was just my way of making sure I wasn't treading on any toes.'

  He really did look sorry, and Gemma relented. 'No toes,' she smiled. 'But what about the advice?'

  He glanced uncertainly at her and away again. 'I'm afraid I've not made a very good start. The fact is that you'll think this is awful cheek, I expect, but—well, actually it is connected with my meeting with your boss this morning.' He put a finger into the collar of his white polo sweater and eased it away from his throat. 'I wondered if you might be able to tell me if it was finally thumbs-down after I left the office this morning, that's all.'

  The cafe was filling up now, noisy with chatter and the clink of crockery. Outside the wide plate-glass window a queue of cars panted at the traffic-lights. Gemma frowned down at her plate and wondered what she could say. Confidentiality was, she had been taught, something that is first and foremost expected of a secretary.

  'I'm sorry,' she said at last, 'I'm afraid I can't help you. I don't know what's in Mr Durrant's mind, and if I did I don't think it would be right for me to discuss it.'

  He pulled a very wry face. 'That puts me in my place, doesn't it? But I suppose you're right. It's just that—well, I've staked rather a lot on getting this work, and if Mr Durrant intends to turn me down flat I'd rather know straight away. But never mind that, I know I shouldn't have asked.'

  Disappointment was written all over his face, but he was trying his best to conceal it. And suddenly Gemma changed her mind. She believed that people did their best if you encouraged them, not bawled them out.

  Impulsively she said, 'I don't know anything for sure, of course, but I don't think he's made up his mind yet.' She thought for a moment and then added rather recklessly, 'As a matter of fact, he told me after you'd gone that he thought some of your ideas were pretty good.'

  If she had felt any guilt it disappeared as she saw the young man's face light up. 'Oh, bless you, Gemma, you're a sport! I'll work like mad on those plans, and I can have two or three alternative ideas ready by the time Mr Durrant gets back from London.' He leaned towards her and added confidentially, 'It's not easy to get started in this profession, you know. I've had one or two small commissions, but this one would give me a real boost. Durrants' name carries a good bit of weight around this town.'

  When they parted at the shop door a little later he squeezed her hand. 'Thanks again, Gemma, you'll never know how you've bucked me up. Perhaps,' he added tentatively, 'I could stand you lunch again and tell you how I'm getting on?'

  It wasn't the first time Gemma had seen that look in a young man's eyes. She liked Derek, but she didn't want to start anything with him; she had enough on her plate just now. 'I'm going to be very busy while Mr Durrant's away,' she said. 'I can't promise anything.' She smiled at him to soften her refusal.

  He held her hand a little longer before he let it go. 'Oh well, I'll be seeing you,' he said, and stood watching her grey skirt swinging round her long slender legs as she walked into the shop.

  At five o'clock that afternoon Gemma saw the white sports car parked on
the opposite side of the road as soon as she came out of the shop doorway. She glanced at it only briefly. She didn't include in her circle of acquaintances anyone who owned a car as expensive as that. She felt surprise, therefore, when the driving door swung open and a girl in a green dress got out and ran across the road towards her.

  'Hi—stop a minute—please!'

  Gemma stopped as she recognised Julia Moore. Oh lord, she thought, here we go again! But at least Harn Durrant wasn't here to repeat his performance of this morning.

  Julia joined her on the pavement. She really was very beautiful, Gemma thought, with her great violet eyes and her cloud of white-gold hair. But at the moment she looked a wreck. 'I've been waiting for ages,' she gasped. 'Please tell me—isn't Harn in the office?'

  Julia looked so awful that Gemma hadn't the heart to brush her off completely. 'He's gone to London,' she said, turning away and beginning to walk down the road. 'Sorry.'

  Julia was beside her. 'Oh, don't go—please! I've got to talk to you. Please come and sit in my car for a minute or two.' She grabbed Gemma's arm.

  Gemma sighed. She supposed this was part of her new job, and anyway she couldn't help feeling a little sorry for the girl, who was obviously making herself ill over a man who didn't want her.

  She said, just as she had said to Derek, 'I don't think I can help, you know.' But she followed Julia across the road and slipped into the passenger seat of the white sports car.

  Julia fumbled for a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. Then she peeped at herself in the driving mirror. 'I must look terrible,' she said, and Gemma didn't contradict her. She wondered if Harn Durrant reduced all his discarded girl-friends to limp, pathetic wrecks like the girl beside her. She waited, not speaking.

  At last Julia stuffed the handkerchief away and sat twisting her fingers together. 'Please tell me,' she burst out desperately, 'are you and Harn having an affair? Oh, don't say anything yet—' as Gemma's head shot up '—I wouldn't blame you if you are. I know only too well what Harn can be like—how devastating he can be sexually. No girl could resist him.'

  I could, Gemma thought firmly. You just watch me. But she still didn't speak.

  'I—I know he was kissing you when I went into the office this morning,' Julia stammered, 'but I thought perhaps it was just—you know—men do kiss their secretaries, don't they? At least that's what I've been told.' She made a shaky attempt at a laugh. 'Oh dear, I'm not putting this very well.'

  She turned her great violet eyes, swimming in tears, on Gemma's face. 'You see, I must know, because it's—it's just about killing me, not being sure. Harn and I have had quarrels before and he's walked out on me, but I've managed to get him to come back. But this time he—he seemed—' She pulled out a handkerchief again and began to sob. 'Oh God,' she muttered, 'I'm so afraid. If it's really over I think I'll die!'

  Gemma began to feel vastly uncomfortable. She was eighteen, but nothing like this had come her way before. 'I'm afraid I can't really give you any advice,' she said calmly. 'Except that no man is worth dying for, and I'm quite sure Harn Durrant isn't. I haven't known him very long, but he seems to me completely lacking in feeling.'

  Julia's mouth fell open. 'How can you say that when you—'

  Gemma had to avoid the way that question was leading. 'I can say it very well,' she said firmly. 'I've worked with him and I've watched him at work. He's self-centred and arrogant and as hard as nails. Not a man to fall in love with.'

  'But—but—he's so wonderful—'

  'In bed?' Gemma said dryly. She was putting on a sophisticated act and she wasn't quite sure of her ground, but if she was as yet innocent, she had read books and seen films and she knew what sex was all about—from the outside, at any rate. 'But that's not everything, is it? Certainly not worth dying for.'

  'But—but what shall I do?' Julia wailed. Really, the girl was quite pathetically silly, Gemma thought pityingly. Harn had told her to get rid of Julia, but he hadn't told her how. He hadn't told her what a damp, clinging vine Julia was.

  A gleam came into her blue eyes. 'I think—' she began, and Julia turned eagerly.

  'Yes?'

  'I think the best advice is what they tell you when you lose a pet dog. Find another one as soon as possible.'

  'Oh!' gasped the girl beside her, outraged. 'Oh, I think that's horrid! You're making fun of me.'

  'Not a bit of it,' Gemma said sturdily. 'It's good sound common sense. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must get home. I hope you feel better about things soon, Miss Moore. He really isn't worth it, you know.'

  She slipped out of the car and walked briskly away down the road. Phew! that was gruelling. Harn Durrant certainly had left her with some pieces to pick up, the wretch. Poor Julia, she was no match for a heartless brute like him.

  As she walked home Gemma found herself wondering about the kind of girl who would be a match for him. It would be interesting to meet her.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ian came to supper on Saturday night, as usual. Gemma busied herself in the kitchen cooking the meal, leaving Beth to talk to Ian in the sitting room, and tell him as much as she chose about the happenings of the week. Gemma spun out the cooking as long as she could, but at last she had to announce that supper was ready.

  They all sat down at the pinewood table in the kitchen alcove and Ian said, 'This is a surprise, Gemma. Beth's been telling me about giving up her job and you taking it over. It's quite extraordinary that this should happen just now.'

  Why 'just now'? wondered Gemma, as Beth began to heap macaroni cheese, with grilled mushrooms and tomatoes, on to Ian's plate. Beth worried about his living alone and not getting enough to eat. Ian was everyone's idea of an artist—tall and very thin, with a neat dark beard and brilliant black eyes that roamed everywhere and seemed to be storing away each detail in some hidden part of his mind. And indeed he did look rather underfed, Gemma thought, as she glanced across the table at him and waited for some clue as to what he meant by that 'just now.'

  But Beth spoke first. 'You do think it's a good idea, don't you, Ian?' She sounded almost pleading. 'It will give Gemma wonderful experience, and she's really keen on the idea of being a modern super-secretary, aren't you, love?'

  Gemma grinned and nodded. Beth was obviously still feeling slightly guilty, but she had not, Gemma guessed, told Ian all the details of her own near-breakdown and Harn Durrant's callous treatment of her. Ian leaned towards her and said earnestly, 'I think it's the best thing that's happened in a long time for all of us. You were due to give up that job, Beth. I've never thought you were cut out to be a secretary. And now you'll be free.' He looked curiously eager.

  'Until I've spent all my golden handshake,' Beth laughed. 'Then I'll have to look out for another job. But I don't want to think about that yet. Tell us your news instead.'

  Ian looked mysterious, then modest, and finally it came out that he had some very important news indeed. He had just heard that he had won a scholarship which meant that he could spend six months studying and working in Naples.

  'Ian! How absolutely wonderful. Naples!' Beth's brown eyes lit with pride and pleasure. 'That's just the beginning of something absolutely terrific for you, I'm sure of it. I always knew you'd get a chance like this one day. Naples!' she repeated, and as she added her own congratulations. Gemma thought she heard a faintly wistful note in her sister's voice.

  Of course, talk of Naples occupied the rest of supper-time. Beth had to know every tiny detail and she hung on to Ian's words, wide-eyed. Gemma watched the two of them in silence. They were so well matched, it would be wonderful if they could get married. She sometimes wondered how far their friendship had developed, but Beth was too reserved to talk about a love affair—if indeed there was one, and of course Gemma never asked. She and Beth were from different generations, with different ideas about such things. Not that Beth was stuffy or narrow-minded—but there was a gap between them, as Gemma was sometimes made aware.

  When the meal was over she sh
ooed them both out of the kitchen. 'I'll do the washing-up, and then I've promised to go round to the Forsters'. I may go to the flicks with Ann.'

  'All right, love. Don't be too late,' Beth added automatically as she led the way back to the sitting room, hardly able to drag her eyes from the tall dark man at her side. Gemma grinned and closed the door behind them. Tactful, that's me, she told herself as she began to pile up the dishes and carry them to the sink.

  At half-past nine next morning the phone buzzed on Gemma's desk. Mrs Brown's voice said guardedly, 'There's a Miss Vera Knight on the phone, Gemma—wants Mr Durrant. Will you speak to her?'

  'Do you know if it's a business call?' Gemma enquired, thinking that forewarned is forearmed.

  'I don't imagine so,' Mrs Brown said drily.

  'O.K., put her through, please.' Gemma braced herself and cooed into the phone, 'Good morning, this is Mr Durrant's secretary, can I help you?'

  A feminine voice, low and sulky, said, 'It's Harn I want to speak to—tell him it's Vee.'

  'Sorry,' Gemma said crisply, 'Mr Durrant isn't in the office at present. Is there any message I can give him?'

  'He's not there?' The voice sounded suspicious. 'Where is he?'

  'I really can't tell you,' Gemma ploughed on patiently. 'He left yesterday. If you'd care to ring again in a few days—'

  'I don't believe a word of it.' Miss Vera Knight was forthright and aggressive. 'He's there, I know he is. You're lying!'

  'Sorry,' Gemma's voice was icy now, 'you've been misinformed, Miss Knight. Mr Durrant is certainly not in the office and not likely to be here for some days. Good morning.' She replaced the receiver with a click. Another of them, and this one sounded much more disagreeable than poor, pathetic Julia Moore.

  She went back to the word-processor manual.

  Ten minutes later the phone buzzed again. 'Gemma? Durrant here.' The sudden sound of his voice was so unexpected that Gemma's heart gave a huge lurch. Mrs Brown must have put him straight through without warning her. 'Yes?' she said, and her lips were suddenly dry.