by Maggie Ford
By Saturday afternoon Edwin had calmed. Tuesday evening had gone well. His distinguished party had said that they’d enjoyed every minute of their time at Letts. The host had congratulated him, said that he could not have had better service or more excellent food and wine anywhere else in London and that he’d make certain to patronise Letts whenever he came to London – words to warm Edwin’s heart and take away the sting of Helen putting the phone down on him like she had.
He hadn’t heard from her, nor had he contacted her. Pride. But he’d ring her tonight. By now, like him, she would have calmed, and come hell or high water he was prepared to drop everything and take her out somewhere really nice.
He was making sure everything was in place for the usual Saturday rush when he glanced up from discussing Chef’s extensive and varied menu for the evening to find Hugh lounging in the doorway to the kitchen.
Acknowledging him briefly, Edwin hurried through the remains of the menu before going over to him, his welcome a jovial quip. “Come to give me a hand?”
Hugh smirked. “Not likely. Thought I’d pop in for a bite before going on to the theatre. Meeting a young lady there.”
Edwin led his cousin into the restaurant proper, one arm about his shoulders. “No doubt someone I don’t know. I’ve never known anyone like you for having so many different women. Don’t you get tired? Amazing how you can ever afford it all on a mere actor’s pay.”
“Oh, I don’t do so badly,” returned Hugh. “I’m beginning to reap good notices and there’s always plenty of stage-door hangers-on. But you’ll know this young lady all right.”
“I will?”
“Absolutely. Helen Goodridge.” He was still grinning amiably despite Edwin pulling up sharply to stare at him, Edwin’s friendly embrace falling from his cousin’s shoulders. “As you seem so intent on letting her down time after time, old man, I thought it only decent to give her a bit of a break.”
“You can’t do that!” Edwin burst out.
Hugh’s expression didn’t change. “Now why ever not?”
“Because—=”
Edwin fell silent. How could he say what he knew about Helen, that Uncle Henry being her natural father made them half-siblings? Hugh would be shocked rigid. And Edwin knew his cousin well – wouldn’t put it past him to say something to Helen, whether by accident or design. Hugh had a nasty streak in him as well as a thoughtless one, and Helen could get hurt beyond measure in the realisation that William Goodridge had never told her about her real father. It was a terrible situation Edwin found himself in.
“I phoned her yesterday,” Hugh was saying. “Just on the off-chance, to see how she was. She told me you’ve been too busy of late with this place to give much thought to her.”
Dread squirmed inside Edwin. “What the devil are you up to, Hugh?”
“Nothing, old chap,” answered Hugh in all innocence. “She’s been stewing at home evening after evening waiting for you to find a tiny niche to fit her in. A girl can’t go on being let down.”
Edwin was becoming aware that they were in the hearing of people coming in through the entrance. “I’m not discussing this here,” he hissed savagely. “We’ll go upstairs to my office.”
“There’s nothing to discuss, old chap,” said Hugh, his tone still lively. “I offered myself and, unlike you, I never let a girl down. And certainly not one like her. Only a fool would let a girl like Helen Goodridge slip through his fingers.”
“Leave her alone, Hugh.”
He might as well have been talking to himself as Hugh continued in a blithe and easy tone, “I said I’d take her to a theatre and afterwards for a nice meal… Don’t worry, old man, we won’t come here to upset you.”
Edwin kept his own voice down, though it grated harshly. “I said leave her alone!”
“I don’t think so, old boy.”
“I’ve already proposed to her.” It was the only excuse he could find to give. “I asked her to marry me last February.”
“And she appears to have turned you down, judging by the amount of water that seems to have flowed under your bridge.”
“She needs time to think about it.”
“If she has to think about it this long,” said Hugh in a flippant tone, “my advice to you is don’t get too excited. It sounds to me as though she still has a pretty free hand to choose whoever she prefers the most.”
“We’ll see whom she prefers,” was all Edwin could find to say. He hated the subterfuge, but Hugh must never know the truth. No one must know. It was strictly between himself and Will Goodridge and always would be. So long as he could keep Hugh from knowing as well as keeping him away from Helen in that respect, she would be safe.
“As you wish,” Hugh dismissed his threat. “Well, I’ll have a bite then be off.”
Left alone, Edwin stood in the body of the restaurant, a few afternoon customers looking for a pot of tea and cake passing him by, mostly ignoring him – the regulars would come in later. His eyes were on his cousin going to a table in a far comer. He saw him summon one of the waiters with the lift of a hand that was as near as damn it to arrogant self-satisfaction, and seethed. It was more than evident that every gesture Hugh made, even summoning the waiter, was being done to taunt him.
William Goodridge was descending the central carpeted stairway and, to combat the anger inside him, Edwin went over to him.
“William, I’m going out.”
“Right now, Mr Lett?” William gave him an enquiring look of scrutiny that bordered on reproof and which, in his present mood, annoyed Edwin.
“Is there a problem, William?” He said it too sharply. It was always hard to have a go at someone who, though his employee, could very soon be his father-in-law also. He moderated his tone. “You remember I did mention I wouldn’t be here this evening?”
“I do, Mr Lett.” Still formal, but a knowing twinkle had stolen into his eyes. “I merely wondered that she might be a little unprepared for you this early. Unless there’s something you have to say to her that can’t wait.”
Edwin chose to ignore the hint. There had been many these past couple of months and he wondered if Helen had anything to do with them.
“It’s just that things being quiet at the moment I thought I’d take the opportunity to have a bit of time to myself before calling on Helen. I’ll be back here around eleven thirty or so.”
These days there were now regulars lingering into the small hours, as in the old days. It was increasingly evident that his presence was being sought by them, just as his uncle’s had been. That little exchange of backchat; that chance to share a laugh or a confidence with the proprietor himself, feel privileged enough to address him by his first name, all went a long way to building a restaurant’s reputation, perhaps even more than its fine cuisine did.
It was good to know he had inherited his uncle’s trait for attracting confidences even though he sometimes wished himself more flamboyant, as his father had been. He couldn’t crack jokes as Geoffrey had with his favourites or be nonchalant and easy of nature. But Uncle Henry had always been the one to whom regulars turned rather than his father. He must settle for that and be content.
He returned his mind to his restaurant manager in time to catch the studied look William was giving the figure in the far comer. Nothing escaped William’s eyes. Edwin immediately found himself excusing his cousin’s presence.
“He’s beginning to pop in more often these days.”
“Yes, so I notice,” said William. “Makes one wonder why.”
Edwin couldn’t help but pick up the connotation in the remark.
“Probably because he’s nearby at the moment,” he said off-handedly, but his restaurant manager’s expression at that excuse didn’t go unnoticed. William Goodridge often seemed to possess a sixth, even a seventh sense that could not be ignored or answered. Had he already guessed what Hugh was up to? Was he endeavouring to warn Edwin about Hugh’s motives?
“Well, I’m off then,” said Edwin
sharply, and hurried away to avoid any more loaded inferences from William. Nevertheless he would take them on board. The man was seldom wrong in anything he said and he needed to get to Helen well before Hugh did.
Edwin’s exit did not go unobserved. Hugh sat over his pot of tea and angel cake, his eyes bearing a look of amusement. Edwin was in a tizzy. But though he had only been teasing his cousin, he felt quite serious about Helen, so the amusement didn’t quite extend to laughter.
He stirred his tea and wondered if he ought not to have been so quick on the draw. What if Helen decided to ditch him and go off with Edwin? Damn it! Perhaps he should go after him. He could picture the look on Edwin’s face as he turned up right behind him just as he was getting somewhere with her.
“It don’t do, old man,” he murmured to his cup of tea, “to be too cocksure of a girl, even your own girl.” Edwin was a bloody fool, assuming he could leave her for days on end before showing his face. Even so he should make sure.
Finishing his rapidly cooling tea and enjoying the last of the angel cake, he strolled off in the wake of his cousin. He’d been a little too leisurely, however, for by the time he reached Helen’s home his ring on the doorbell reaped no response.
Hugh shrugged in his nonchalant way. There would always be another time, knowing his work-mad cousin and the time he took to get around to doing the things that really mattered, such as making a girl happy.
Six
To Edwin’s intense relief Helen was home from work.
Pressing the doorbell of her flat he hadn’t expected a reply, had been prepared to wait around for ages until she appeared.
For a second she gazed at him like someone faced by a stranger. He knew she’d expected it to be Hugh standing here and a surge of anger swept through him. His bright grin was forced.
“Sorry I didn’t get in touch earlier, Helen. I’ve been bogged down at work.”
The look had disappeared, replaced by one of vague confusion, but he ignored it, letting the words tumble out. “I thought I’d pop round rather than phone, surprise you. Wondered if you’d like to go out this evening. I know it’s early and you’ve probably only just got home from work, but if I’d stayed at the restaurant much longer I would probably have been caught up with something or other, and I’d rather see you.”
He’d hoped this last statement would work. It didn’t. She continued to stare at him, her lips having compressed themselves together a little, though the expression didn’t mar her pretty face. He could see her hands flexing a little and there was a slight frown on her face. A far more abject apology from him was being called for here.
“Helen, I know I been neglecting you lately, but—”
Now she found her voice. “Yes, Edwin, you have. I’ve been wondering very seriously lately whether we should be getting on with our separate lives – if you know what I mean.”
He certainly did know what she meant and his heart missed a beat.
“No, don’t talk like that, please! I know I’ve been remiss of late, but I want to make it up to you.” Any minute now Hugh would be on his tail, he could feel it in his bones. His tone took on a note of panic despite his trying to keep it even. He tried to smile again. It felt like a grimace.
“Can’t we go out somewhere this evening?”
She took in a small breath and seemed to pull back from him. “I’m already going out this evening, Edwin.”
He kept his smile going. “On your own?”
“No, with a friend.”
“Girlfriend?” No girlfriend – he already knew who it was. “Someone from work?”
“Not from work.”
He made himself laugh light-heartedly. It sounded abrasively loud. “It’s not a boyfriend, is it?”
“As a matter of fact—”
“Don’t!” His voice burst out despite his attempts to stay calm. “Helen, don’t go out with him. I’m so sorry. I realise how much I need to be with you. Please, Helen, can’t we start again? I’ll do anything. I won’t ever leave you alone again. Just… let’s go out this evening. There’s so much I want to say to you, make up for the way I’ve been just lately. It’s…”
No, he must not make excuses, mustn’t say the name ‘Letts’ and spoil that gradual relaxing of her face muscles to something more tolerant of him.
“I should have phoned you before chasing round here. Look, can I come in, Helen? I feel such a twerp standing here at your door trying to tell you how much I love you.”
She stood her ground, though there was the faintest trace of a smile. “So how much do you love me, Edwin?”
“Enough to ask you to be my wife. I know I asked you once before, but I was jumping the gun then. I’m not now. I’m deadly serious, Helen. Look, let me come in. I can’t stand here like this.”
Now she stood back. He was in; she was closing the door, leading the way into the lounge and saying over her shoulder, “Won’t you be missed at the restaurant?” She had to get in that last little dig but instead of being annoyed, he felt humble. He had been totally in the wrong.
“From now on,” he said with all sincerity, “you come first. I mean that, Helen,” he went on as she turned to face him. “I feel it can run itself a bit more and I intend to devote all my time to you.”
Her laugh was a lovely tingling sound to his ears. “Now that’s going over the top, Edwin.” She was shrewd like her father, picked up on things hardly had they been dropped.
“Well,” he blustered, “I know I have to keep the place on its toes if I want to have something to offer you when we’re married.”
She sat down on the sofa, looking up at him. “You haven’t yet asked me to marry you exactly.”
He came and sat next to her, taking her hand. “Then I’m asking you now. Will you marry me?”
Helen stood up suddenly, pulling her hand away from his. “You know what I’d like to do this evening? I’d like to go dancing.”
“Where?” He wanted so much to bring her back to his earlier question but all he could say was, “Where?”
“You choose,” she said quickly. “Surprise me.”
“And what about what I’ve just asked you?”
“I’ll answer you when we come home,” she said.
* * *
They’d gone to the Hammersmith Palais. He’d wanted to take her somewhere exclusive, but despite wanting him to surprise her, Helen had suggested Hammersmith, an odd choice. “Wouldn’t you prefer somewhere nearer?” he’d asked, but she had shaken her head.
“I’ve never been there. I’d like to see what it’s like.”
To argue would have undone all his efforts. But it had been good, the vast hall echoing to the sound of a big band and the shuffling of a hundred pairs of feet as couples did slow waltzes under dimmed lighting and racing coloured flecks from the slowly revolving ball in the middle of the ceiling, fast quicksteps with the lights on full, seductive foxtrots and tangos and occasional jitterbugs, as the buzz of chatter and laughter, the heady scent of perfume and hair oil mingled with the smell of floor wax and dusty drapes.
Helen was so light in his arms – an accomplished dancer, as was he. But there were many accomplished dancers here and no one took any notice of them. He had danced with her often but tonight was particularly wonderful and they stayed on the floor until their feet ached.
Around eleven, Helen bent down as they sat at a table and eased a foot out of one shoe. “I think I’ve just about had enough,” she sighed. “Maybe we ought to go home now.” He was happy with that until she added as he helped her on with her coat, “Besides, I expect you’ll have to get back to the restaurant to show yourself. You usually do.”
“Not tonight,” said Edwin, huffily, following her out where pavements, wet from a recent downpour, reflected street lighting and electric signs as brilliantly as a river. It was still raining slightly, but they hurried for his car, glad to be in the dry.
He’d hoped she would snuggle up to him as he drove, but she stayed stiffly in the
passenger seat, saying little but that she’d enjoyed the evening. Not once during the whole evening had she referred to his question of marriage, but then she had told him to wait until they got home. It had marred his own joy at being with her, his mind constantly running back to it. Now she was home, what would her reply be?
At the bottom of her flat, she asked, “Are you coming up for a nightcap, Edwin?”
Of course he was coming up. He wanted his answer. He nodded without speaking. Waiting until they’d got into the lounge, he said, “Well?”
“Well what?” she queried.
“About me asking you to marry me. Will you?”
She was taking off her hat, gloves and coat, dropping them across the back of one of the armchairs and laying her handbag beside them. “I’ll get coffee,” she said, making for the kitchen, but paused in the lounge doorway, turning round to look at him. “Or do you prefer a proper drink?”
He was near his wits’ end, standing there still in his overcoat and trilby. “I don’t want anything, Helen. I want your answer.”
“To what?”
“The question I asked you before we went out.”
“Which was?”
“Helen, stop playing games. Will you marry me?”
“You’ll have to ask me properly.”
“Damn it!”
She was smiling. “That’s not the way, Edwin.”
“Well, what d’you want me to do, for God’s sake?”
Helen came slowly back into the room. “I think you know what,” she said.
The next second he’d grabbed her in his arms, holding her so tight that she had to take a full breath so as not to be crushed.
“Edwin!”
“Marry me, Helen. Darling, say you will. I’ll look after you, work for you, make you happy. I’ll love you to my dying day. Helen, please say yes.”
“Yes,” she said.
“What?”
“I said yes. I will marry you, Edwin.”
It was all too simple. “Do you love me – enough to say that?”
For a reply, she pushed him away a little with her elbows, leaning herself back against him, her lips raised to his. The kiss seemed to go on forever. At one time she eased her lips away from his sufficiently to whisper, “Does this answer your question, Edwin, my love?”