Peacock's Walk

by Jane Corrie

  With a slight exclamation of annoyance, Jenny took her place behind her desk. He couldn't even leave her to see to her end of things, could he? Oh, no, not he! It would be his way of showing her who was in charge now—and not only her—the rest of the staff too ! Her small even teeth caught her lower lip as she remembered what Tony had said about Mark Chanter intending to be around for quite some time. As long, she thought bitterly, as it took for him to gain his objective and remove her and the rest of the unwanted staff from Peacock's Walk.

  A quick perusal of the desk drawers confirmed that all her personal belongings had been removed from the large desk to her small one, and gazing over to the large desk that had once been hers, she saw that a framed photograph had been placed on the desk, together with the usual items of office equipment.

  Pushing aside the natural instinct to go over to the desk and look at whoever had been so honoured as to rate such a position in her new employer's life, she settled down to await his arrival, willing herself to remain calm and businesslike, no matter how much provocation she received, for she had no doubt in her mind that he intended to be as objectionable as possible, and she would never forgive herself if she allowed him to reach his objective.

  On hearing the deep chimes of the lounge clock that announced that it was nine o'clock, she shifted restlessly in her chair. It was time that he put in an appearance, she thought. It was not as if he had far

  to come, for he had taken the vacant room that Jenny had misguidedly thought that Silas Hawter had reserved for himself. This she had learnt from Dodie the previous evening—that, and a few other things, that added up to the same sort of lecture given her by Tony, and she had had to repeat what she had told Tony—that she would go in her own good time—and not before.

  A quick glance at her watch told her that it was now ten minutes past the hour, and still no sign of Mark Chanter. Her lips firmed on the thought that perhaps this was an intended lapse on his part to keep her waiting. It was also probable that he was taking a last look around the hotel, because this was the day that the American guests were due. Even so, she thought bleakly, he had already satisfied himself on this point the day before, and there was no need for another inspection.

  With her elbows on her desk and her face cupped in her hands, Jenny had to concede that she did not know very much about Mark Chanter—business-wise, that was, but in all fairness she knew he did not warrant the 'playboy' charge that Tony had levelled against him. Although Malcolm's friendship with Mark had turned to emnity because of Mark's interest in her, Malcolm had always respected Mark's business acumen, and had sought his advice on many occasions in the past. Not every business handed down from father to son flourished so successfully as Chanter Enterprises had—not without a certain amount of hard work, for what

  was once a moderately successful hotel had become one of many.

  At nine-fifteen, Jenny rang through to reception, and trying to keep the annoyance she felt at having to seek information on her new boss's movements, asked Rose if she had seen anything of Mr Chanter.

  Rose gave a chatty, 'Oh, he's out, Miss Grange. I only know because I met him on his way out when I arrived.' There was a short pause before she added helpfully, 'Perhaps something came up. He didn't leave any message that I know of.'

  Jenny thanked her and replaced the receiver carefully, only just managing not to slam it down. It was not Rose's fault that Mark Chanter had not seen fit to advise them of his movements.

  Her baleful look left the receiver and swept over the desk, for she had to use the phone on Mark's desk as it was the only one in the room. Her glare rested on the back of the photograph in front of her, and without a second thought she turned it towards her, fully expecting to see the face of some anonymous beauty that had caught his eye. Her eyes widened in surprise as she stared at her own image.

  Her surprise soon gave way to incredulity, then puzzlement, for she well remembered when the photograph had been taken, and the occasion. It had been taken by Malcolm, who had caught her laughing at some quip made by her father during an inspection of part of the hotel grounds that Malcolm had in mind to use for the building of a few chalets, to cope with the overflow of guests during the peak season.

  Jenny's frown deepened as she replaced the photograph with hands that trembled slightly. The snap had been such a good one that Malcolm had had an enlargement made, and as far as Jenny knew, it had remained his property. She simply could not see Malcolm giving it to Mark, even though the snap had been taken a year before she met Mark.

  As she did not know the answer, or the reason why he should have the photograph in such a prominent position, she pushed the disturbing question out of her mind for the time being, and dwelt on the memories the photograph had evoked.

  There had been no clouds on her horizon then, and no Prince Charming, as she had once regarded Mark Chanter. Her existence had been one of calm acceptance and happiness—for she had been happy, she thought wistfully. Malcolm had never seemed an employer to either her father or her, for he had grown up with Jenny, and in many ways had been closer to Mr Grange than to his own father, who, inclined to rheumatics, had been a follower of the sun, and had hated the damp English climate.

  Her gaze went back to the laughing girl in the photograph, who now seemed a stranger to her. It was hard to imagine that she had once been as gay and as carefree as that picture depicted. She sighed on the thought that less than two years after the photograph had been taken she had lost not only her father, but Malcolm too.

  After the loss of two such dear people in her life, Jenny thought she had the answer as to why Mark Chanter had failed to capture her heart. She had

  nothing more to give; all emotion had been drained out of her before a lasting link had been formed. It had been a wonderful, exhilarating period in her life while the attraction had lasted, but she had always had the curious feeling that she would have to wake up some time, and the death of her father had been the forerunner of her awakening.

  Jenny had never known exactly what her father had thought of Mark. He had always made him very welcome, as indeed he had done to any of Malcolm's friends. All she did know was that if he had not thought him a suitable partner for his daughter, he would have said so, for as kindly as he was, he would not have held his peace on this issue, and Jenny could only assume that he approved of him. This was a point in Mark's favour, for her father had been an astute man. It had since occurred to Jenny to wonder if her father had known of Malcolm's feelings for her, and she had come to the conclusion that he had known, for there was very little that he missed, in spite of his quiet unassuming nature.

  With an impatient movement she turned the photograph back to its original position so that the back of the frame was now presented to her, and her gaze swept over the contents of the large desk. It was then that her eye caught a tape that had been left in the centre of the desk, and under it a note. She drew in a breath of sheer exasperation; how stupid of her! She ought to have thought of looking before, but it hadn't occurred to her, and if she had not satisfied her curiosity over the identity

  of the subject in the photograph, she wouldn't have found the tape, for two large wire trays for correspondence blocked her view from the front of the desk.

  The thought that Mark had known that she would not be able to resist looking at the photograph gave her a few bad moments, but, she argued silently with herself, she would not have bothered to look at it if she hadn't had to use the telephone on his desk—but he wouldn't have thought of that, she told herself bitterly as she picked up the tape and read the instructions on the note that had been placed under it.

  The instructions were brief and to the point, and an added postscript told her that he would be back shortly after midday, accompanied by their American guests.

  For the rest of that morning Jenny threw herself into her work, refusing to be lulled back into memory lane by that persuasive, smooth voice of Mark's, but her cheeks flamed pink at an added soft reminder o
f his at the end of the second letter on the tape that she must remind him to have a bottle of Advocaat sent up to his room, and his dry, 'I presume you still have the same preference for it,' made her fingers freeze on the typewriter keys. She was not absolutely sure that he was referring to her, as it did occur to her that he might have originally meant the tape to be transcribed by his personal secretary, although there was no denying that she did prefer the drink he had mentioned.

  As her fingers flew over the keys at the start of

  another letter, she told herself that 'that was one instruction she would definitely not be carrying out! Mark might be in the habit of entertaining his secretary in his private rooms at his other hotels, but he was in for a disappointment if he hoped for the same arrangement with her.

  To think she might have married such a man, she thought indignantly. Tony hadn't been so far off, the mark at that. The man was a womaniser ! The sooner she got out, the better!

  When Tony rang her shortly afterwards, telling her that it looked as if he had managed to find a position for Boots at one of the smaller guest houses in Brighton, she felt a surge of relief flow through her. One down and two to go, she thought cheerfully, although it was a great pity that they couldn't all walk out en bloc—not that this happening would cause Mark Chanter any grief—if anything, joy, she thought shrewdly, but it would give her great satisfaction nevertheless.

  The American delegates invaded the premises shortly after midday, and Jenny, hearing the by now familiar accents floating up to her office window from the hotel entrance below, felt a glow of pride at the unrestrained comments of their approval of the chosen quarters for their stay while attending the conference.

  When she had owned the hotel, it would have been her policy to go down and greet her guests, now, as secretary, she stayed where she was, feeling in an odd way a little relieved that she no longer need play a major role in the business. It was rather

  pleasant to sit back and let someone else do the worrying and fussing over the comfort of their guests, and be able to remain a nonentity in the background.

  With these thoughts in mind, she was a little nonplussed when Mark strode into the office a few minutes later accompanied by an elderly, plump man, to whom Mark blithely introduced her with a, 'This is Jenny Grange, Silas,' and turning to Jenny, added blandly, `Mr Hawter insisted on meeting you at the earliest opportunity.'

  Jenny shook hands with Silas Hawter, and tried hard to look impersonal about it. It was an effort not to snub him, for this was the man who had helped Mark engineer the acquisition of the hotel. That Mark Chanter had had the effrontery to carry out the introduction did not surprise her one bit, but she did wonder why he had bothered.

  `A pleasure to meet you,' enthused Mr Hawter, and Jenny fervently wished she could say the same, but in all honesty she could not, but just listened as the jolly, plump man rambled on with the same enthusiasm. 'Mark said you were special—and I can see why,' he remarked as his homely face broke into a wide smile.

  Jenny's features froze on this comment, and her furious eyes met Mark's bland ones. 'I'm flattered by Mr Chanter's remarks,' she bit out furiously, unable to remain impersonal any longer. 'And I'm sure he feels the same way about the rest of the staff,' she added waspishly, and coloured as Mark broke in with a swift, 'Now I wouldn't go as far as

  to say that,' reply, accompanied by a wicked grin.

  When Jenny had managed to disentangle her hand from Mr Hawter's firm shake, she saw with no little consternation a look pass from him to Mark, a look that had conspiracy written all over it, and she longed to shout at them that she hoped they were satisfied with themselves at the way they had hoodwinked her into selling Peacock's Walk to Chanter Enterprises. With a supreme effort she managed to hold her peace. The thing was done now, and no amount of hoping would alter the situation, and the thought of the older staff helped her to reply to Silas Hawter's unexpected invitation to her to join him at dinner that evening, and while she was tempted to find an excuse, the apologetic look he sent Mark as he made the request made Jenny accept without hesitation, if only to show him that her private life was no concern of Mark Chanter's. Whatever delusions Silas Hawter was suffering from regarding the exact relationship between her and Mark would soon be put to rights after a little chat over the dinner table.

  A little before eight that evening, Jenny made her way to the hotel restaurant for her dinner date with Silas Hawter. Wearing an off-the-shoulder green velvet gown that highlighted her fair hair and brought out the green lights in her eyes, she threaded her way past the other diners, towards the table at the end of the room that had been reserved for her host.

  It was with no little appreciation that she observed the frankly admiring looks she received from

  the occupants of the other tables. She had wanted to look her best and had gone to some pains to achieve the resultant effect, and now felt quite justified for her trouble. It was not often that Jenny bothered to dress up for any occasion. In fact, not since Mark had gone out of her life, and this had not been for any other reason than for a wish to remain in the background as much as possible, and not, as Tony and the rest of the staff had thought at that time, because Mark had jilted her.

  As she passed the table next to the one she was heading for, she met Mark's mocking eyes with a glint of defiance in hers, and she didn't know why she should choose this particular time to remember that he had not liked her hair twisted up on top of her head as she had chosen to style it that evening, but she was extremely grateful that she had just happened to put it up, more from a wish to look older and more sophisticated than she felt.

  A light flush stained her cheeks, as she heard Mark murmur in a low voice as she floated past him, 'You look gorgeous, kitten, but don't overdo the welcome, will you?'

  Once again she caught the proprietorial note in his voice; he might just as well have said, 'I shall be watching you, so keep it cool,' and she couldn't understand his reasoning at all. He had Peacock's Walk, and nothing she said or did would change the situation, so why he had to act the big brother was beyond her. Unless, a tiny voice whispered inside her, he did intend to take over where Malcolm had left off, as Tony had intimated earlier, in which

  case, she thought indignantly, he had a few surprises in store, not to mention disappointments!

  Her host more or less echoed Mark's sentiments —as far as her appearance went, that was—and seated her with courtly, old-fashioned etiquette that was somehow touching, and made her feel like weeping, for her father had possessed the same courteousness towards his guests, and it was something that was sadly lacking in up-to-date mannerisms.

  It was the same with the ordering of the meal, for after ascertaining her likes and dislikes, Silas made the selection, and Jenny had only to sit back and silently approve of his choice of fare. While they waited for the first course to be served, Silas poured her a glass of a white Sauternes that he told her he could thoroughly recommend, and took his time slowly sipping his drink before coming to the subject Jenny shrewdly guessed had been the reason for his invitation.

  'I guess,' he began after a few moments' deliberation, 'I owe you an apology, Miss Grange,' and looked up to meet Jenny's wary glance at him. 'But first,' he went on as he placed his glass down on the table, 'I must thank you for receiving me as you did earlier on. I wouldn't have been a bit surprised if you'd refused to meet me,' he gave a quick grin as a thought struck him at this point, and added dryly, Not that Mark gave you much choice in the matter, I admit, but you could have given me the cold shoulder, and I'm right grateful that you didn't.'

  Jenny looked down at the table, for she knew she

  hardly deserved such a tribute. If it had not been for the thought of the staff she might well have given him the 'cold shoulder', as he had so aptly put it. As it was, she had had to exercise a great deal of self-control not to give her thoughts away, although his apology told her that he was not insensible of her feelings in this.

  `Mark told me
he'd been unsuccessful in his earlier bid,' Silas went on carefully, and gave a slight shrug. 'Normally, one would put this down to the one that got away—you can't win 'em all, as you'd say, but there were certain reasons why I wanted him to have this place.'

  Jenny was grateful for the intervention of the waiter just then, for she was wondering if he knew the history behind Mark's interest in the hotel, as she had come to the undeniable conclusion that Tony had been right all along in his summing-up of her ex-fiancé's motives in purchasing Peacock's Walk. His subtle warning to her had ended all speculation on this front, and was intended to give Jenny due notice of his renewed interest in her. It also gave her time to reinforce her battlements.

  Nothing more was said until they had finished the starters, and as Jenny's spoon dipped into her avocado vinaigrette, she wondered if Silas Hawter had come as Mark's champion. If so, it was a wasted journey. Somehow she must convey this to him, but as Mark's friend he was not likely to hear anything against him, not that she intended to rake up the past, that was between Mark and herself, and no one else.

  I’ve known Mark for a very long time,' began Silas ruminatively, while they waited for the first course to be served, 'both as a friend and a business colleague. As a friend, I owe him quite a lot—he saved me from making an all time fool of myself not so very long ago.' He gave Jenny a sheepish grin. 'Oh, I know I ought to have known better than to have entered into the romantic stakes at my age, and I didn't appreciate his advice at the time, but I was sure thankful that I acted upon it later. The woman was a confidence trickster and had me all trussed up for plucking until Mark arrived on the scene.' He shot Jenny a keen glance as he added dryly, 'That was one man she didn't fool—no, sir! Although there'd been plenty of others. I'd back his judgment all the way, no matter what the situation.'