Miss Columbine and Harley Quinn

by Hilton, Margery

  Quinn raised his hand in a silencing gesture and closed the door. Suddenly wishing she knew something of the text of the conversation that had accompanied the sharing of that afternoon tea tray Shelley unbuttoned her jacket and flung it over a chair.

  `What time did you get here?' she asked.

  `Just after four. Now, Shelley, I haven't very much time and I want to hear about this business with Samma. What exactly happened?'

  `I—I—nothing much.' Shelley sat down uneasily. 'The flat was getting a bit cramped, that's all.'

  Aunt Lou gave her a direct look. 'Are you sure? Was that what the quarrel was about?'

  `Well, not exactly. It wasn't a real quarrel. We just decided it would work out more conveniently if I had a place of my own.'

  Aunt Lou did not appear entirely convinced. 'What do you think of these two boy-friends? This Tim who has been mentioned a few times in my daughter's less guarded letters.'

  Shelley's mouth compressed slightly. 'He's all right, Daniel—the other one—is Coralie's boy. The four of them go

  about with the crowd from the art school. They look crazier than they really are.'

  For a moment Aunt Lou pondered this stringently censored version of the `Samma business' while Shelley hoped that her aunt wouldn't suddenly voice one of her disconcerting questions that made any evasion other than an outright fib impossible. She said hopefully : 'Wouldn't you like to see my room? It's quite self-contained and I've my own bathroom. It's really super.'

  `I've seen it.' Aunt Lou smiled. 'It is a very nice room and you've been lucky to find it, especially in such a pleasant residential area.'

  Shelley held her breath and waited for the ominous 'but' which must surely follow. Then Aunt Lou smiled again and added: 'Mr Quinn seems a most charming man. I've just discovered I met his mother last year, at Mark's ordination. The Bishop introduced us, now I come to think back, and she came only last month to open our Fayre in aid of the bell tower fabric fund. I believe she does a great deal of voluntary service that no one ever hears about. But I never connected the two names until this afternoon and I realised that it was Eleanor Quinn's son who had taken you under his wing.'

  This last observation would have reduced Shelley to helpless mirth at any other time, now she could only goggle at Aunt Lou and stammer disbelievingly : 'Then you don't mind?'

  `Mind what, child?' Aunt Lou's attention was distracted by the entry of Bruno with a tray.

  When he'd gone, after a smile and what was suspiciously like a wink, Shelley said, 'Me being here instead of with Samma—on my own?'

  Well, it's a trifle more unconventional than I'd wish, but I suppose times are changing.' Aunt Lou sighed. The things one hears about these days ... taking it all round you've been fortunate. I was quite prepared to find you in some dreadful decaying old tenement, in a poky little hole without decent sanitation and about thirty other people under the same roof. At least I know where you are and who you're with.' Aunt Lou stood up. 'Yes, it could have been a lot less suitable.'

  Shelley tried to control a fervent sigh. 'His sister lives quite near. I've met her several times. Yesterday ...' Shelley gave an account of 'yesterday' and Pamela, and concluded, 'I'm sure you'd like them all, Aunt Lou.'

  'No doubt.' Aunt Lou gave one of her penetrating glances. 'I hope you're keeping your room tidy and behaving yourself.'

  'Oh, yes! But you're not going straight away. Have some more tea with me.'

  'I haven't time, pet.' Aunt Lou pulled on her gloves and considered a rather fine Coleport porcelain plaque above the mantelshelf before she added: 'You forget, I've to see Samma.'

  'Oh, yes.' Shelley looked at her aunt's plump back, still sturdily erect under the severely tailored blue bouclé two-piece, and decided the less she said about Samma the better.

  She stood up, knowing that Aunt Lou's leavetakings were never prolonged—one of her aunt's pet hates was the guest who was still tearing herself away an hour later. But for once Aunt Lou turned back, to note the telephone number and deliver a final little homily before Shelley saw her safely on to the right bus.

  Aunt Lou still had a lingering doubt, but it was all right. Because of Mrs Quinn and the church Fayre—and the Bishop! Shelley danced back to number eight, somewhat richer than when she left, and went in search of Quinn to impart the wonderful verdict.

  'Where is he, Bruno? I can't find him,' she cried when she had searched as far as the kitchen.

  'He'll be in his room—you didn't finish your tea.' Bruno pointed accusingly at the untouched cake. 'I thought that chocolate sort was your favourite.'

  'Oh, it is—I was talking—I'll eat it now.' Cake in hand, crumbs scattering freely, she rushed impetuously to the door. 'I must go and tell him everything's all right.'

  'Should you, miss?' Bruno followed her out and watched the whirling figure skid round the hall and take the stairs two at a time, but Shelley was deaf to his disapproving tone.

  `Quinn ...' she barged along the landing, 'are you there? It's okay, it's all settled. I—'

  `What's all settled?' The door of the master bedroom swung open and revealed an immaculately shaved Quinn fixing a silver cufflink in a dangling cuff of his snowy white shirt. He glance fell on the chocolate cake and his brows lifted a fraction before he turned back into the room and picked up the other cufflink. 'Has your aunt gone?'

  `Yes, she asked me to say goodbye and thank you and all the rest of it.' Shelley noticed the crumbs and bent hastily to remove them from the spotless cream carpet. `Do you know what she said? She said I'm better here than in some mouldy old dump with about thirty other people. She knows your mother, so it's all right. I don't need start hunting now. Isn't it marvellous?'

  `I suppose it is.' Quinn was selecting a tie from the rack inside the big fitted wardrobe.

  `She gave me five pounds pocket money, so the rent's safe for next week.' Shelley could not resist letting her gaze rove curiously round the room, at the ivory and pale green wall decor and the severe lines of the fitted units that ran the full length of one wall. There were shelves at each side of the bedhead holding a lamp with a dark green velvet shade and quite a lot of books. He must like reading in bed as well! Then her glance completed the circle and came back to the mirror above the dark green vanity unit. Quinn was settling the knot of his tie and she became aware of his non-committal expression and the note of dispassion which had been in his tone. Where was the delighted reaction she had confidently expected?

  She said uncertainly : `So I can settle down now, thank goodness.'

  He turned to the wardrobe and his touch sent the panel sliding noiselessly along, shutting off the rail of clothing from sight. For a moment he hesitated over the dark jacket that lay on the bed, then he straightened. 'But I'm afraid you can't, Shelley.'

  `Can't!' Her eyes widened. 'Did you say I can't? ... Do you mean I—?'

  'I mean you can't stay here any longer.' He slid the hanger out of the jacket, not looking at her.

  'But I don't understand. Why not? You said I—it was your idea that—'

  'The circumstances have changed, Shelley.'

  Bewilderment parted her lips, then she crumpled before the unmistakable clarity of his decision. She said quietly: 'I see. I—I'm sorry. Of course you never meant it to be anything else but a stopgap. I realise it's inconvenient and—and—' She turned away, trying to keep her voice steady. 'Only I didn't think of it like that. I—I'll----'

  'Shelley, I—' he took an impatient step towards her, 'it isn't like that at all. For heaven's sake don't think it's inconvenient. I didn't mean that!'

  'Then why did you say I could stay here if you didn't mean it? And—and—'

  'Because—Oh, for goodness' sake, don't start to weep! Surely you realise that it won't work after all. That the circumstances in this case just don't permit it?'

  'Yes, I quite understand. You don't have to do any explaining. It's your house and—'

  'Oh, for—! Here, dry your eyes and sit down, and listen! There!'


  He thrust her forcibly into a chair and pushed a handkerchief into her hand, then groaned aloud at the sticky mess of squashed chocolate cake still clenched in her palm. 'Oh, Shelley! Why are you such a baby?'

  'I'm not,' she choked, starting to get up, 'you—you've got a head start. And—and you make me—'

  'I'll spank you if you don't calm down and listen. And drop that disgusting cake and wipe your hands.' He almost threw a towel at her, looking so threatening that she cowered back, ready to believe that he would carry out his threat of spanking her.

  'Now listen to me. I'm quite prepared to take the blame for upsetting your plans like this. I know it was my idea and it all seemed a great joke letting you have Geoff's room and confounding those idiots with their practical jokes. But we can't get away with it, Shelley. In your young circle, perhaps

  yes, but with our respective and highly conventional families —no!'

  `But Aunt Lou approves, she said it was all right,' Shelley sniffed. 'She said

  `Yes, but after talking to your aunt this afternoon I realised that I didn't approve,' he said grimly. 'Nor do I particularly care for the idea of my sister starting to surmise over my motive for having you here. ' He broke off at the sudden start Shelley gave. 'What's the matter?'

  `She promised she wouldn't!' Shelley's hands trembled convulsively. 'She promised faithfully—what did she say?'

  He stared. 'She didn't say anything. But she will.' His expression changed. 'What's this about a promise? What has my sister been saying to you?'

  `Nothing!' With a surge of relief she recognised genuine puzzlement on his face and realised how nearly she had betrayed herself through misguided fear. 'No, it—it was something else—nothing to do with my being here, or you. Nothing,' she repeated firmly, 'it wasn't even Julia.'

  For a moment he watched her without speaking. Then his mouth curved grimly. 'For a woman you're the most unconvincing liar I've ever met.'

  `I'm not !'

  `Oh, never mind.' He turned away, but not before she glimpsed the sardonic smile that touched the corner of his mouth. 'It was Pamela, wasn't it? I thought she might be speculating. No, don't deny it. I was well aware of the intense scrutiny yesterday and the reason for it. Pamela, with her meaning smirks at you when she thought I wasn't looking, is just another baby.' He replaced the cap on a bottle of hair lotion and set the bottle on a glass shelf. 'Unfortunately, as you remarked, I've too far a head start to be intrigued by schoolgirl nonsense.'

  He swung round to face her and Shelley wished she was anywhere else in the world but this storm centre of scarlet, horror-stricken embarrassment. He seemed to be waiting for some response from her, but the only response she could summon was dismay at her own utter foolishness. Her experience to date of men was limited to start with, pitifully so,

  she now realised, certainly it did not provide a clue as to how to deal with a situation like this one !

  `So you see,' he raised his brows, 'the personal element has entered into it already. That is why you can't stay here, little Miss Columbine. Even you must have sufficient feminine intuition to realise that people will immediately begin to assume there is a degree of emotional involvement present if you continue to live under my roof.'

  A moment ago Shelley had felt herself enveloped in hot scarlet embarrassment, now she felt very cold. She looked down. 'But we know there isn't any—any emotional involvement.' She tried to laugh. 'It's silly. There isn't anything.'

  `Isn't there?' he said quietly, and now all trace of amusement had died from his face.

  `Of course not !' Her voice was too loud and she obeyed the perturbing tremors that urged instant escape. She sprang up. 'Of course not !'

  Suddenly it seemed a tremendous distance to the door and she had to pass him. He said steadily : 'Shelley, would you be here, reacting as you have done, if there weren't? Wouldn't a normal reaction be making you angry, making you say : "Stuff your lousy room," or some similar sentiment translated into whatever the current jargon of your young contempories happens to be?'

  He had made no move, but some force emanating from him held her powerless, unable either to move or speak.

  `Why deny it?' he asked flatly. 'There is something. I feel it—and I know damned well that you do!'

  She swallowed hard. At last she mumbled, 'That—that's ridiculous. You—you keep saying I'm a baby. So why ... ?'

  `No, Shelley, you're not a baby.' He smiled grimly. `I'm merely trying to convince myself that you are.'

  `So—so—you think I— You're afraid I might involve you in some way. You think ' At last a wild anger came to Shelley's aid. All the things he meant came together in heartbreaking reality. He didn't want her there. He'd given rein to an amused impulse when he offered her Geoff's place. And now he regretted it. Because he thought she'd get a teenage rave on him and he was scared of getting involved, of

  what his family might say or think. Oh what a fool she'd been. Letting his charm and kindness and that sensed trace of rakish man-of-the-world fascination capture her silly heart. And he'd read her like a book—a book of very large print ! Oh, the— Her head came up wildly and her fists clenched.

  `Why, you— you conceited idiot ! Do you think I'd stay here now? Well, don't worry. I won't! You—you can stuff your lousy room! I'm going. And I hope I never—' Blinded now by tears, she bolted for the door and crashed into a barrier that hadn't been there an instant ago. A pair of hard arms closed round her and the deep voice said above her head:

  `You don't, you know.'

  `I do. Let go of me. Let go !'

  `Certainly.'

  She was free before she could halt her instinctive struggle, and he folded his arms and leaned against the door, watching her hands flutter and fall to her side. She took a wary step backwards and gulped: 'I—I'm going now. When ...' when you get away from that door ! her frightened eyes said.

  `Are you really as scared as you look?' he asked, choosing to ignore the plea. 'Or have you just remembered an urgent date?'

  `No, I haven't, and I'm not!' she cried wildly. `And it's nothing to do with you if I have.'

  `Oh, but it is.'

  The cool, assured tones brought the first tinge of real fear stirring in Shelley. She forgot her anger, the fount of tears was suddenly dry and every sense was on guard as she stared at the implacable figure which showed no inclination to release her from the trap into which she seemed to have walked.

  `You did invite yourself up here,' he said coolly, 'so is it surprising if I start getting ideas?'

  `Ideas ... Oh, no!' Shelley's hand went to her mouth to stifle a gasp of horror. Eyes wide with the despair of disillusion she took another step back and cried: 'So you're just the same, after all. Same as the rest of them. Just another rake!

  A smooth-talking, kinky— And I thought you—'

  `No! No, Shelley! Is—' He choked on laughter and shook his head helplessly. 'Oh, please don't. A rake! Kinky!' His voice disintegrated again. `Am I kinky? I'm flattered. Shelley, I'm sorry—I shouldn't tease you, but don't look at me as though I'd gone mad.'

  With an effort he sobered and brushed one hand over his hair while Shelley's expression indicated that possibility so transparently that mirth threatened to overwhelm him once again.

  `Listen, let's sort it out and start again,' he said quickly. `I assure you I am not kinky and only my sense of humour was threatening you with seduction—or whatever fate you believed I had in store for you. Pax?'

  `J-Just keep talking,' she whispered suspiciously.

  `You haven't an urgent date?'

  `Only with a shampoo,' she admitted, noticing that the way of escape was barred no longer and sidling towards it.

  `Then I suggest you cancel it and have one with me—not a shampoo!'

  `With you?'

  `Yes. Will you have dinner with me—tonight?'

  `D-dinner? Now?'

  `Dinner. Now. Yes?'

  `Here?'

  `Anywhere you like—except here.'
/>   `B-but why?' she stammered stupidly, having given up the losing battle of trying to keep up with his rapid changes of

  mood.

  `Because we seem to be going round in circles and dining on neutral ground, in the right atmosphere, may help to change the groove. Also, if we are going to part company I feel we should have a small farewell celebration to mark the sad occasion. I promise faithfully not to tease,' he added after a slight hesitation.

  `Well?' he said, when the silence had stretched to at least twenty seconds.

  She stopped, remember the silver cufflinks and the immaculate grooming. `Weren't you changed to go out?'

  'I was.' He nodded gravely. 'But don't worry, it was one of those standing agreements with a couple of colleagues—the turn-up-at-eight-old-man-if-you've-nothing-better-to-do sort of thing. Easily cancelled.'

  The inward struggle of caution and desire ceased suddenly within Shelley and caution lost. The rakish facade had vanished; once more he was the Quinn she loved—and trusted. Calm, urbane, only the subtle hints of humour round his mouth disturbing the gravity. He smiled, and she capitulated. 'All right—but I'll have to change first. This is just my office dress.'

  'I know,' he opened the door and stood back. 'Try to make it within an hour, though, will you?'

  After three changes of mind she settled on her choice of garb, a slim, straight little dress of crisp ice green with a narrow border of silver and white embroidered braid outlining the square neckline and armholes. She knew it became her and hoped it imparted an air of sophistication which would lessen the feeling of extreme youthfulness she was always conscious of in Quinn's presence.

  With impeccable courtesy he escorted her out to the car and saw her comfortably settled within before he went round to the driving side. She sat silent while he drove off, aware still of a wariness not completely dispelled and of her vulnerability in face of a man of Quinn's calibre.