Miss Columbine and Harley Quinn

by Hilton, Margery

  They had got pushed right to the back and she was making a mental note to have a clear-out of the untidy clutter which had accumulated when the carrier bag fell out on the floor. She looked at it, frowned at the name of the exclusive store inscribed in floral tinted letters, and remembered: this was the famous negligee Coralie had given her. She forgot the shoes and opened the bag, giggling as she drew out what seemed to be billowing clouds of frothy black and rose. Heavens, there was miles of it! Actually, it was of exquisite quality and beautifully made, even though it looked as though it would fit someone at least ten inches taller than herself. She shook out the nightdress, giggled again at the

  minute garment intended for the shy to wear beneath, and slipped out of her dressing gown. A moment or so later she was surveying herself in the full length mirror and almost blushing. Lavishly adorned it might be, with a froth of lace and long pink streamers of ribbons from the shoulder bows which, presumably, held the thing together, but it was so sheer it wouldn't have hidden the tiniest freckle. Sheer sexy seduction! But not for her—ever! Coralie might get away with it, but Shelley knew she'd only end up collapsing with mirth if he was rash enough to try looking come-hitherish in this creation. And the negligee wasn't any more concealing, apart from being about a yard too long. Probably supposed to flow in glamorous folds round her feet—but she'd only go flat on her face at the first step!

  No, she sighed, she still preferred the two hand-embroidered nighties she'd discovered when rummaging on a market stall one day not long after she moved in with Samma. They'd cost her a pound and they'd been both torn and filthy, but she'd washed them and repaired them, and when she had ironed out the fine lawn, snowy white frills at the throat and cuffs she had fallen in love with her bargain. Museum pieces, Coralie had said, and Samma always referred to them scornfully as Shelley's shrouds, but she had continued to wear them, bemoaning when each successive laundering found a new weakness in material succumbing to age. She would have to make a bonfire of them now, she thought with a pang of regret, seeing that they were now minus one cuff.

  She took off the negligee and tried to restore its floating skirts into neat folds, and about to divest herself of its mate she heard Bruno's stentorian bellow ring up the stairs.

  Now what? Or who? Shelley frowned, hovered indecisively, then padded to the door and opened it a fraction. `What is it? I can't come down just now, Bruno. I'm—'

  `It's Julia—on the blower. But you can take it up there, lovey.'

  `Oh, yes ...' She still forgot sometimes about the extension phone on the bedside unit. Impatiently she crossed to it and picked up the receiver, reflecting that Julia would choose this

  time to ring up for a natter. 'Julia?' she said tentatively.

  `So you're back! I've tried three times to get you. Shelley! How could you? You—'

  Shelley shrank from the furious voice crackling in her ear. What on earth .:. ? 'But I've just got back from hospital, Julia,' she interrupted indignantly. 'You knew I was going today. They took the—'

  But Julia didn't give her a chance to complete the sentence. She said furiously: 'Of all the mean tricks! Why didn't you tell me? Instead of stirring up a pack of trouble like this! Going and telling him and raising a stink like this! I didn't even know you knew. I suppose Pamela told you—stupid, precocious child that she is—and you

  `Julia!' Shelley cried. `What on earth are you talking about? What trouble and tricks? And what's Pamela done? I don't know what you—'

  `Don't you?' said Julia icily. `Then why have I had Myra on the phone, in floods of tears, because Quinn's been so abominably rude to her I couldn't credit it from my own brother? And now I've a first-class family row on my hands, all because of a stupid kid who wants spanking and one who's not much better, running off to tell tales and screaming before she's hurt. If I'd known it—'

  `Julia, shut up and start again,' Shelley almost screamed. She took a deep breath, trying to sort out the angry tirade and control her own increasing fear that a new disaster was about to break round her head. Julia—Pamela—MyraQuinn! `What am I supposed to have done? And when did Myra see him? She had no right to, she's the trouble-maker, and—'

  `Listen, Shelley,' there was an impatient sigh at the other end, `I know you must have felt sore—you did hear her say some silly things the other night, didn't you? Or Pamela did and repeated them, but you didn't have to repeat them all to Quinn and embroider them beyond recognition in the process. I didn't take them seriously at the time, and if I'd known ...'

  `But I didn't tell Quinn,' Shelley said desperately. `I didn't tell anybody ! At least, not anybody that would tell him. And

  Pamela didn't tell me, I heard it all myself, and I don't care if she is Derek's cousin and your best friend, I hate her, and I wish she'd never—' Shelley's voice cracked as she verged on tears. 'What do you expect me to do about it? Go and tell her I'm sorry?'

  `No. Oh, I give up,' Julia exclaimed. "`If you didn't, then who did? The fairies? Is he home now?'

  `No, and he wasn't at the office this afternoon, so I don't know where he is.'

  `Well, for your sake, I hope he's simmering down somewhere,' said Julia curtly. 'Believe me, he can be a brute when he wants to be, so take my advice and don't go running starry-eyed to him with any more tales when he does get back because I doubt if he'll be in the mood to be sympathetic. Don't you know that men hate that sort of thing? It's childish and silly. Another time, remember—'

  `Another time, Julia,' cried Shelley, incensed now, 'you might remember not to make unfounded accusations until—Oh—!'

  A hand came over her shoulder and twisted the receiver out of her clasp, and at the same time her wrist was seized in a grasp which didn't invite argument.

  `That'll do, Julia,' said Quinn coldly, 'it's all been said.' He turned and looked at Shelley. 'Or has it?'

  She swallowed hard, still bewildered at the suddenness of Julia's attack. 'I didn't start it,' she said, uncertain of the grim line of his mouth. 'And—and I didn't tell you that—'

  `Oh, for heaven's sake! I know you didn't. Why not?' Her eyes widened. 'Well, I couldn't. I—'

  `Why couldn't you?' he said grimly, 'instead of—' He realised he was still holding the telephone receiver and with an impatient movement he thrust it down on the rest. 'Why not?'

  Shelley's face quivered. 'Can't you say anything but "why not"? Look ...' Almost despairingly she made to draw her wrist out of his grasp and held her hand out under his nose; `it's off.'

  He gave a deep sigh and looked down at the arm, very

  thin, the skin tender and white against the golden haze that still lingered from the sun of Rhodes. Some of the impatience ebbed from his expression and ruefulness took its place. He touched the slender wrist and then bent to brush it with his mouth. 'Can't you stay out of trouble, ever, Shelley?'

  She turned away sadly. 'It just seems to happen. I—I suppose you're furious now, and—'

  'Yes, so furious I'd like to—' He gave a small exclamation and swung her to face him, exasperation tightening the corners of his mouth as he saw her woebegone face. 'Come here and tell me you love me.' Without giving her a chance to respond he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with a force little short of violence.

  'Well?' he demanded, when at last he drew back.

  'But of course I love you,' she said helplessly. 'I always have. I love you very much,' she repeated in a small voice, still uncertain of his mood and even more uncertain of herself.

  He nodded, the humour still hot back in his features, and then gazed deliberately at what Shelley had completely forgotten during the storm of the last ten minutes. And now a hint of a smile lurked round his mouth. He said coolly : 'You don't need the ploys of sexy lingerie, you know. Perhaps in twenty years' time, but not now. Although I must admit I'm flattered.'

  Before she could realise his intention he calmly tweaked at the long ribbons and the next moment black and pink wisps of nylon drifted clown to a foam round her feet. 'You see, t
hey work,' he observed.

  She gave a small shocked scream and looked frantically for the nearest cover while Quinn said without mercy : 'Well, isn't that the idea? Anyway, what's wrong with this?' He

  picked up the broderie-anglaise 'shroud' and threw it at her.

  'This is you, my little one, that'—with a rather contemptuous thrust of his toe at the black exotica on the carpet—'is not!'

  'But it's got no sleeve now!' she said wildly, holding it to her as she dived for the wardrobe. 'And it's not time for—I'm

  not wearing this!'

  `Then don't. I shall be quite capable of shoving it under the pillow, whatever you wear.'

  This was too much for Shelley. Feverishly she found the old kimono and thrust herself into it, to hear him say dryly : `And stop wriggling around behind that wardrobe door. If you don't want to dress in front of me then say so, or tell me to get out.'

  `What!' She reappeared, tying the sash with fingers that seemed helpless to achieve that simplest of tasks. 'Would you?'

  'Certainly,' he said, brows going up. ',Every individual is entitled to moments of privacy, married or not. Though I shouldn't be entirely happy about it,' he admitted in the same dry tone.

  Aware of feeling distinctly shattered, she went to the dressing table and looked helplessly at her array of cosmetics. It was all quite hopeless. She hadn't got her make-up on, she hadn't combed her hair out of its set, she wasn't dressed, he showed no inclination whatsoever to make himself scarce, despite his last remarks, and the atmosphere in the room was so highly charged she was half prepared for an electric shock if she touched anything.

  She started to take the clips out of her hair, sighing at the dampness still in the soft strands, and saw the dark form appear above her shoulder. He had taken off his suit jacket and tie and put on a dark blue velvet jacket. Through the mirror his gaze met hers, still grave, then the comb was taken gently from her hand and he sat down on the end of the stool, edging her along and leaning his arm back on the dressing table so that he was facing her.

  'Never mind about all that for the moment. Why do you get so excited, Shelley, calm down.'

  She reached restlessly for the comb, then stayed the movement. 'You make me excited.'

  'Do I? But this agitation isn't exactly the kind of excitement I care to induce. You know, Shelley, your honesty campaign didn't last very long. I seem to remember you making a very definite vow of no secrets. So why the change of these

  last few weeks?'

  For a moment she was silent, head bent down, then she looked at him directly. 'Because I didn't tell you I'd spied on somebody and heard something I shouldn't have heard? Flow could I tell you?' She looked down again. 'Anyway, men don't like too—too much of that kind of thing.'

  `Men don't like what?' he prompted, more gentle now.

  `Well,' she floundered, 'they don't want to be bothered with tittle-tattle and too much honesty, and questions about their pasts, and their motives, and

  'I do, if it's over something that's making you unhappy. I never dreamed that Myra was trying to stick her claws into you, or that she was at the bottom of the odd little conversation the other night. I had the impression that you'd suddenly developed a morbid interest in my past loves. If I'd known I'd have answered you in a totally different way.'

  He paused, his gaze steady on her face. 'I didn't know until today that she was apparently planning to stage a comeback into my life, but fortunately I'd found out just in time before she rang me up this morning.'

  `She did!'

  He nodded. 'To ask me if we'd got her invitation. Incidentally, what did you do with it? Burn it?'

  'No,' she breathed guiltily, 'it's still in my bag. I—I was going to—'

  'It doesn't matter,' he said with a return of impatience. `After what I said to that lady I doubt if we'll be receiving any more invitations from her.'

  Shelley looked at him sideways. 'What did you say to her?'

  'That I am not going to tell you. By the way, while on the subject of invitations, there should be another very important invitation on its way to us. I trust you didn't dispose of it !'

  'The Embassy invite !' Her hand flew to her mouth and she sprang up. 'No, I didn't ! It's in my bag—I'll go and get it. Only—'

  'Not this minute !' He pulled her back. 'It can wait. it has nothing to do with Myra, I might tell you.

  'Oh.' She hesitated. 'Quinn, who told you?'

  'Bruno. He has quite a soft spot for you, and he never approved of Myra. He was the subject of one of the first conditions she made when she first became engaged to me : Bruno had to go.'

  `But Bruno's a darling!' Shelley said indignantly. 'What a sauce! Of all the—'

  `Quite.' His mouth curved. 'But I think we've gone over enough past history. I don't want to remember it—although I remember this very vividly.' He tweaked at the front of the faded blue kimono. 'Do you?'

  `I don't think I'll ever forget it,' she said unsteadily. Suddenly she grasped his hand. 'Quinn, are you sure you really love me? You didn't marry me because—because you were bitter about—her, or—or you're just fond of me? Because I don't think I could bear it if you didn't—'

  `So that's it! Darling, I do not retain the slightest pang of unrequited love for Myra Delane. Nor did I marry you on the rebound. I married you because I wanted to, and for no other reason at all. Secondly,' his dark features were very close to her now and something in his eyes was setting a breathless racing tumult free in her nervous system, 'I suspect you may have been receiving a certain amount of well-meaning but misguided advice about love and marriage. Am I right?'

  Beyond speech now, she could only stare at him.

  'I thought so. Listen, Shelley, you don't have to pretend to me, ever. I haven't survived this far without learning a little about feminine wiles and evasions and sulks, and I've always assumed them an inescapable factor of feminine make-up. I fell in love with your youthful honesty and lack of guile, and that generous affection you never made any attempt to disguise. So don't dare change. I want the Shelley who barges into my room and flings herself at me, who isn't ashamed to let my family see that she adores me, and blushes without coyness when I say outrageous things to her. I don't want a Shelley who will turn cool and brittle because it's considered sophisticated to do so, or a femme fatale waffling around in black nylon see-throughs that would doubtless animate a rake with a hangover, but not ... I can assure you, my little

  love,' he said vehemently, 'I don't require that amount of animation. Who gave it to you, anyway? You surely didn't buy it?'

  'Coralie and Samma—they know a lingerie buyer and they often get things at trade price—but it's an expensive one,' she protested.

  'I couldn't care less,' his mouth curved sardonically, 'however, if you really fear my jaded tastes in future, you shall have beautiful lingerie—but I will choose it. Now, have I made myself clear?'

  She nodded, but a wistfulness still lingered in her eyes, which even the love she must have been blind ever to doubt could not quite dispel. 'I didn't want to stop—flinging myself at you, or letting people see,' she admitted slowly, 'only I began to wonder if you— Sometimes you seemed as though you didn't want me to,' she finished uncertainly.

  He smiled. 'Didn't you under I why, after that evening

  in Lindos? I didn't want to Keep you at arm's length, darling, but I didn't want a month of emotional misery, either, until ...'

  'I know,' she sighed, 'but I wish ... oh, it doesn't matter now, does it?'

  `What did you wish?' he prompted softly.

  `Just that I hadn't been such a careless idiot and broken my arm. It ruined everything.'

  He sighed, shaking his head, and reached for her, drawing her across his lap and close into his arms. 'I didn't manage things as well as I should, I'm afraid. You see, darling, the circumstances made me feel I should be protective before I was a lover, and despite all those demonstrations of your affection—which I loved—I had had one or two twinges of doubt
as to whether you were ready for marriage. I remembered a little remark you made during one of your honesty confidences, and then when the calamity occurred it began to underline that doubt.'

  He paused, and the caresses that were setting Shelley's heart thudding and bringing every nerve in her body to vibrant life ceased for a moment. His lips against her brow, he said quietly : 'I'm sure you know, darling, that the first

  time of "going all the way" isn't always the perfect joy it becomes later—for the girl, and I had no way of knowing how it would be for you. After some thought and a battle with myself I decided it would be wiser to wait until you'd got rid of that great plaster battering ram, and the effects of that plunge down the stairs.'

  He sighed again and smiled ruefully. 'I still don't know if I made the right decision. Did I?'

  `I don't know,' she whispered, tightening her arms about him with the almost despairing joy of being unable to press even closer to him. 'I loved you so much for that, because I was a little bit scared, and guilty because I felt I was failing you.'

  He shook his head. `I'd never call it that. Only fate failed us. Anyway,' he looked down at her with darkened eyes, `what did you expect your honeymoon to be—a two-week orgy?'

  The rush of colour to the small features brought instant tenderness into his expression and he gave an incoherent murmur as he bent to her mouth and shielded the rose his teasing question had evoked.

  There was no need of words now and no room for doubts within the cloak of love he was enfolding about her. It was a long time before she stirred and gazed up at him with the flowering strength of new surety. She said, `Darling! know what else I want to ask you.'