Читать книгу Wild Melody - Сара Крейвен, Sara Craven - Страница 7

SHE was awoken by a hand on her shoulder. Mrs Birch in outdoor clothes was standing by the bed, holding a small tray.

‘Coffee, miss,’ she announced. ‘Mr Lord will be back soon. I'd be ready if I were you. He hates being kept waiting.'

Catriona was sorely tempted to proclaim her total indifference to Mr Lord's likes and dislikes, but she knew that under the circumstances, that would be churlish.

‘The bathroom's just across the hall, and I've put clean towels in there in case you want a shower,’ Mrs Birch went on. ‘Now if that's all, miss, I'll be getting along.'

‘Thank you. You've been very kind,’ Catriona said sincerely.

‘It's been a pleasure,’ Mrs Birch replied brightly. ‘I hope we meet again, miss. And if I might say so'—she lowered her voice confidentially—‘I wouldn't wear the jeans, miss. Not up West anyway. Fine for the Kings Road, but I don't suppose you'll be going there.’ And she was gone.

Catriona finished her coffee and slid out of bed. The unpopular jeans and her shirt were lying on the dressing stool and she picked them up, her face a little mutinous. All she had in her rucksack were two cotton dresses she had made last week, and some woollen sweaters. Tossing her dark hair determinedly from her face, she marched off to find the bathroom.

She was brushing her hair back into a ponytail and securing it with an elastic band when Jason Lord returned. She heard him come whistling down the hall and pause outside her door, and she squared her shoulders.

‘Are you ready, Miss Muir?’ he called.

‘Quite ready.’ She picked up her duffel coat and walked to the door. Somewhat to her surprise, he gave her a mocking grin as she emerged into the hall.

‘I like a girl who sticks to her principles,’ he commented as his eyes ran over her. ‘Come, Cinderella, you shall go to the ball.'

Her blood boiling, she followed him to the front door and down the steps to the sleek cream-coloured car that awaited them. Jason Lord held the door open for her and she subsided a little awkwardly into the low tan leather seat on the passenger side. She stared entranced at the dashboard, wondering what the various buttons and dials could be for.

‘Do you drive?’ He slid into the seat beside her, and flicked the ignition expertly. The car started immediately, and they pulled away.

‘I had a few lessons, but I never took the test.'

‘A pity. It's an advantage, wherever you happen to live,’ he said.

‘Perhaps Jeremy will teach me.'

‘Perhaps he will,’ he returned noncommittally.

Catriona tried to make note of each turn they took, but she was soon bewildered. The streets were wider now, and the traffic was getting heavy. The houses were giving way to shops too, and as they drove along Catriona saw signs advertising more theatres and restaurants than she had ever dreamed existed.

‘I've never seen so many people,’ she remarked impulsively, then regretted sounding so naïve.

‘You should see it on Sundays. It's almost as quiet as Torvaig,’ he said. ‘And what's more, I've seen a vacant parking meter. Here we go.'

A few minutes later, Catriona found herself in a huge shop. Jason Lord's hand was under her elbow, urging her forward through the crowds thronging the counters, as she caught tantalising glimpses of exquisite displays of scarves and handbags and sniffed exotic odours as she was whisked through the cosmetics department.

‘Lift or escalator?’ he asked, then quickly, ‘I'm sorry, I'm treating you like a child. But you look so damned young in those jeans with your hair tied back.'

‘I know—like a waif,’ she retorted, already more than conscious that she seemed to be the only person in jeans in the whole massive building. ‘And I've never been on an escalator.'

‘Up we go, then.’ He steadied her on to the moving staircase. ‘Hold on to me if you like.'

‘The rail is quite adequate,’ she returned stiffly, then spoiled it by stumbling as they stepped off at the top.

Her feet sank into a thick carpet, and somewhere soft music was playing. Everywhere there were clothes, displayed on models, pinned on wire frames, hanging on rails and circular racks. She felt she was dreaming, and then another more demoralising thought struck her. She caught at Jason Lord's sleeve.

‘My money! I—I left it in the rucksack.'

‘Well?’ He looked tall and forbidding as he swung to look at her. ‘What of it?'

Catriona gestured awkwardly around her.

‘I haven't enough with me to pay for anything here.'

‘I never suggested you should. Now come on. We've a lot to get through.’ He sounded impatient. ‘First things first. We don't even know whether you'll find a dress you like here.'

‘But they must have hundreds of dresses,’ Catriona gasped.

‘You're an unusual woman if that makes any difference,’ he said. ‘Ah, there's the person we want.’ He propelled Catriona towards a grey-haired woman in a smart black suit, standing by a rail of coats studying some papers. ‘Hello, Mrs Cuthbert. We need your help.'

‘Mr Lord.’ The woman smiled charmingly, then turned to Catriona. ‘My word!’ she said.

‘And that's putting it mildly.’ Jason Lord took Catriona by the shoulders and pushed her forward. ‘She's going to Mrs Lord's party with me and she hasn't a thing to wear. What can you do for her?'

Mrs Cuthbert studied Catriona, now flushed with humiliation.

‘Well, there are possibilities,’ she said cautiously. ‘What does she need?'

‘The works.’ Jason Lord released Catriona and stepped back. ‘And her hair, Mrs Cuthbert. I don't know who attends to my sister-in-law, but …'

‘It's Miss Barbara,’ said Mrs Cuthbert. ‘I'll phone the salon now and see if she can squeeze another appointment in.'

‘Fine.’ He consulted his watch. ‘Shall we say the restaurant in two hours?'

‘I'll send her to you,’ Mrs Cuthbert promised.

Catriona raged inwardly. They might have been talking about one of the dummy figures standing round the department, she thought furiously. And just who was going to pay for all this? She still had to find somewhere to live until she and Jeremy could be married. She could not afford to spend any of her little hoard of money on a party dress she did not need. But Jason Lord's tall figure was already disappearing, and Mrs Cuthbert was leading her gently but firmly to a fitting room.

Later that evening, Catriona stood in front of the mirror in the small bedroom at the flat and looked at herself in frank disbelief.

The dress was almost the same green as her eyes, and its low bodice cut square across her small breasts was covered with sparkling crystals with narrow matching shoulder-straps. The straight satin skirt reached the floor, hiding her delicately strapped high-heeled sandals.

She was really Cinderella, she thought wonderingly.

Her hair, expertly trimmed, had been set so that it hung smooth and shining to her shoulders, just turning up at the ends. She was lightly made up, with eye-shadow and mascara used just as the girl in the beauty salon had shown her, and her lips glowed a pale rose. A small evening bag, studded with crystals, lay on the dressing table. She picked it up, and putting the long stole that matched the dress over her arm, went down the hall to the room where she had met Jason Lord.

He was standing leaning on the mantelpiece, with a glass in his hand. He looked up as she entered, and she paused nervously waiting for some barbed remark. But the silence stretched on endlessly, and she felt oddly disappointed.

‘Would you like a drink?’ There was a formal note in his voice.

‘No—thank you.'

‘Right.’ He finished what was left in his glass and put it down. ‘We'll be off, then.’ He took the stole from her and placed it round her shoulders. She was acutely aware of his touch on her bare skin and moved away restively.

They drove for a long time in silence. Catriona kept stealing looks at her companion, but his eyes were firmly fixed on the road and all she saw was his hard profile. He too had a chin, she noticed, and a nasty habit of expecting his own way to match it. Which reminded her of the worry that had been nagging her all afternoon even through her bewildered enjoyment of choosing the dress, and its underwear and accessories, and the hair-do and beauty treatment that followed.

‘This dress is outrageous,’ she informed him.

‘I wouldn't say so.’ He still did not look at her. ‘A little more revealing than you're probably used to, that's all.'

‘I didn't mean that, and you know it,’ said Catriona hotly. ‘I mean the price.'

‘Don't worry about it,’ he told her lightly. ‘After all, it's in the family, isn't it? And Jeremy's mother has an account there, as you may have gathered. We could charge it to her, if you'd rather.'

‘We'll do no such thing——’ Catriona began, then saw his lips twitch. ‘You're laughing at me again,’ she said uncertainly.

‘A little,’ he said. ‘Why not forget about the cost of it all, and start thinking about what you're going to say to Jeremy. Surely that's more important than anything else. Concentrate on the dialogue, darling, and forget the props. They're just incidental.'

‘I wish you wouldn't call me darling!'

‘I know you do.’ He sent her a swift glance, one mocking brow raised. ‘And so—darling—I do it all the more.'

‘Just to annoy me?'

‘You do rise to the bait so beautifully—and so regularly,’ he said.

Catriona lifted her chin and stared through the windscreen into the darkness. Jeremy's parents, she had learned, lived just outside Staines near the river. She supposed that one day she would be familiar with this route, and with the house they were bound for. Now she felt totally at sea, and it frightened her to realise that she was wholly dependent on this stranger beside her. After all, she only had his word for it that there was a party at all. He could be taking her anywhere.

The car slowed steadily, then turned through a pair of white gates and up a shallow drive.

Catriona saw the lights of a large house and heard the steady beat of music close at hand. There were a lot of other cars parked in the drive and on the gravelled sweep in front of the house, and she sat quietly as Jason manoeuvred his vehicle into one of the remaining spaces.

When he opened the door for her, she sat still for a moment, marshalling her courage.

‘Cold feet?’ he inquired.

‘I'm perfectly warm, thanks,’ she returned, deliberately misunderstanding him. His hand closed round hers as he helped her out of the car, and for a moment she almost returned the pressure of his fingers. But just in time she remembered who he was, and the treatment she had been forced to put up with from him, and snatched her hand away.

‘Come along then, Miss Muir,’ he said, and she was startled to hear the harsh note back in his voice. ‘This is what you wanted. Make the most of it.'

Inside the house, Catriona was startled to find a uniformed maid waiting to take their coats.

‘Don't worry,’ Jason murmured. ‘She's not permanent staff. Just hired for the big occasion.'

He guided her expertly through groups of chatting people in the hall into a large room with a bar at one end. Catriona noticed that French windows stood open at one side, leading apparently to a big conservatory.

‘There's Clive—never far from the drinks,’ he remarked. ‘Brace yourself, darling, you're about to meet my respected brother, and Jeremy's papa.'

Clive Lord was shorter than his brother with slightly receding hair and a developing paunch. He looked much older than Jason too, but in his smile Catriona thought she could detect a reminder of Jeremy, and she warmed to him.

‘I don't think I've seen you here with Jason before, have I, Miss—er—Muir?’ he asked, handing her a glass filled with a glowing red liquid.

‘Please call me Catriona,’ she said, smiling up at him, and ignoring Jason's sardonic smile.

‘I don't suppose you know how honoured you are, Clive,’ he murmured. ‘When's the big moment, by the way?'

‘Oh—shortly.’ Clive looked round in a harassed manner. ‘I don't see the need for all this fuss. We had the same nonsense in Yorkshire last week. But you know Marion—not to be outdone, of course.'

‘Of course,’ Jason agreed smoothly. ‘Come on, my sweet, we don't want to miss anything.'

Catriona felt her temper rising. ‘What's going on?’ she asked heatedly. ‘Where's Jeremy? I must see him alone for a few moments.'

‘We're going to see him now. I should put that revolting concoction Clive gave you down if I were you. There'll be champagne in the next room.'

‘I don't want any champagne,’ Catriona insisted almost wildly.

‘Oh, but you must. It's traditional, and the fun's just beginning.’ He drew her across the hall into a room packed with people. It was quite true—there was champagne, and Catriona took the glass she was offered almost mechanically.

‘That's the ticket.’ Clive appeared beside them beaming. ‘Now I must do my stuff, I suppose.’ He went off through the crowd, and just as Catriona was turning to Jason, a demand to be taken to Jeremy at once framing on her lips, a sudden hush fell.

Startled, she looked round, and then—at last—she saw Jeremy. He was standing at the end of the room with two women. One of them, Catriona was immediately convinced, was his mother. She was tall and fair-haired, wearing an expensive dress, and stood toying nervously with her rings. Although she was smiling, Catriona had the feeling that in repose Mrs Lord's face would have a rather peevish expression, and she felt slightly chilled. At the same time she was registering incredulously that the other woman—hardly more than a girl, in fact—was clinging possessively to Jeremy's arm. He was in evening dress, and he had shaved off his beard and cut his hair. He looked quite different, Catriona thought with dismay, then he turned to the pretty, rather plump blonde at his side, smiling at something she had said, and his smile made him the familiar reassuring Jeremy again.

Clive's voice rang out over the room.

‘And now, everyone—friends—if you'll raise your glasses, we'll drink a toast to Jeremy and Helen. Long life and every happiness!'

Catriona stood numbly, her fingers clenched round the slender stem of the glass as Jeremy bent and kissed the girl, who smiled and held up her left hand so that everyone could see the glittering diamond ring adorning it.

Catriona gave a little choking cry. The room dipped and blurred and she heard her glass smash to the parquet floor as she turned and fled. A startled maid stepped forward, as she gained the hall.

‘Excuse me, madam——’ she began as Catriona began blindly to wrestle with the ornate ring that served as a front door handle. Her hands were slippery with perspiration, and she felt hysteria rising within her. Then Jason's hands were gripping her shoulders, and his voice was saying calmly, ‘Come into the conservatory, darling. It's cooler there, and you won't catch a chill as you might outside.'

His grip was inexorable. It was like trying to tear free from a vice, and Catriona did not have the strength to struggle any more. She allowed him to lead her across the room they had first entered to the French windows. He lifted one of the long beige velvet curtains, and she passed through like an automaton.

Ordinarily Catriona would have delighted in the warm exotic scents and sights around her. Hanging lamps had been festooned across the glass roof, and the lights were reflected back from the banks of glossy leaves and petals and from a tiny sunken pool. Small brightly coloured fish darted among the pebbles and the lilies, and Catriona stood watching them, her mind registering with complete detachment every swift movement and ripple of the water. In spite of the more than mild atmosphere, she felt icy cold.

‘Here.’ Jason appeared, holding a glass which he thrust into her hand. ‘Drink this, and don't drop it this time. Caterers’ glasses are an expensive item, as you being a thrifty Scot should know.'

Obediently she swallowed some of the amber liquid, then choked as the powerful spirit caught her throat. It was a violent revival, but it was what she needed, and it gave her the courage to face him.

‘You knew,’ she accused, her voice almost breaking. ‘You knew!'

‘Of course I did.’ He set one foot on the low parapet of the pool, and took a brief sip from his own glass.

‘And you didn't tell me?'

‘No.'

‘How could you be so cruel?’ she whispered, her eyes and throat smarting with the tears she wouldn't allow to fall.

‘I had to be cruel—to be kind,’ he said. His dark face was angry as he stared at her. ‘I did my level best to scare you off, to get rid of you, even. I told you to go back to Scotland, but no. Nothing gainsays Miss Catriona Muir once her mind is made up, does it?'

‘Why didn't you tell me the truth?’ she asked, trying to control her trembling voice.

He looked at her steadily. ‘Because nothing on God's earth would have convinced you that it was the truth. You had Jeremy cast as the hero, and me, most definitely, as the villain of the piece. Any warning I had given you about Helen's existence you would have dismissed as having an ulterior motive, though God knows what makes you think I harbour any towards you,’ he added.

She stood silent for a moment, torn between the justice of what he had said and the misery that was threatening to engulf her.

‘Here,’ he said quietly, as if he sensed her struggle, and passed her the white handkerchief from his breast pocket. This unexpected consideration was the final straw. She sank down on to a wicker lounger and let her tears have full rein at last.

To her relief, he made no attempt to touch her, apart from taking the remains of the brandy from her. Except for the sudden flare of his lighter as he lit a cigarette, she was hardly aware of his presence.

Eventually, as her self-control returned and the tearing sobs began to subside, she sat up slowly, dreading that he would be watching her, mocking her woebegone appearance, but he was merely sitting by the side of the pool, staring down at the immaculate toe of one of his black shoes.

She forced herself to sound calm. ‘Who is she, please?'

He glanced up. ‘Helen? Oh, the original poor little rich girl. Her father's in wool—the family live near Bradford. She met Jeremy in Kitzbuhl a couple of years ago.'

‘If he's known her all that time, how could he have been the way he was with me?’ she said slowly.

He shrugged. ‘As you may have gathered, I've never had much time for Jeremy. He was damnably spoiled when he was a child. I don't think Clive ever realised how much until it was too late. Marion's a bit of a fool, and I've never thought her feelings go particularly deep, so maybe Jeremy takes after her.'

‘Just like that,’ she said unsteadily.

‘What do you want me to say?’ he countered, harshly. ‘It's all been a terrible mistake, and it's you he really loves? And all you have to do is go back in that room looking like the Queen of Elfland and he'll be yours for ever more?'

‘He did love me,’ Catriona whispered, her lips trembling. ‘He did. I know it.'

‘I daresay he did in his way for a while—if that's any consolation. But I can promise you this, even if he did love you as you believed, he still wouldn't give up Helen's money for you. And Marion wouldn't let him either.'

‘You devil,’ she said very distinctly.

He gave a slight laugh. ‘Poor Cinderella! All the way to the ball to find Prince Charming's turned into a pumpkin, and you have to go home with Bluebeard.'

Catriona stared down at the handkerchief she was still holding. It had his initials in the corner, she noticed, and she recalled that Jeremy's had been the same. Her eyes began to prick again.

‘Oh no,’ Jason Lord said decisively, and stood up. ‘I've had enough of that, Miss Muir. You've probably raised the humidity in here already and killed off Marion's prize specimens. Now we're going to do some straight talking.'

‘What is there to say?’ she said hopelessly. ‘I just can't understand why you brought me here—like this.’ She touched the shimmering length of her skirt with distaste.

‘Then you're even less perceptive than I gave you credit for,’ he said coldly. ‘That charming piece of nonsense you're wearing is a disguise. Do you think anyone here tonight gave you a second glance except as an extremely attractive young woman? If I'd just given you the address and allowed you simply to turn up in those damned jeans and that rucksack, it would have made a nine days’ wonder for all of them in there. Is that what you wanted? Everyone staring at you, and laughing—because they would have laughed, make no mistake about that, my child. Okay, so you've been humiliated, but no one knows that except the two of us. Oh—and Jeremy, I think,’ he added sarcastically as she turned startled eyes towards him. ‘I think he caught your misguided exit just now. He looked as if he'd just been poleaxed anyway. But to everyone else, you're just Jason's new girl, whether you like it or not.'

‘I must leave,’ she said.

‘Presently. We still have things to discuss.'

‘I have nothing to discuss with you, Mr Lord,’ she said quietly.

He threw down his cigarette, stubbing it out with his shoe.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘You're hurt and you're angry because I've brought you down from Cloud Seven with a jolt. But you'd have been forced down eventually, Catriona, don't you see that? You came to London of your own free will, and you saw Jeremy as you insisted on doing. Now it's time to pick up the pieces. You weren't just crying for Jeremy just now, you know. You were crying for first love and all it means. Well first love isn't everything.'

‘Oh, I believe you,’ she said with bitter sarcasm. ‘I'm sure you're an expert. It must run in the family.'

‘You little bitch,’ he said slowly. ‘But even if you were right, at least I conduct my affairs with women who know what the score is. I don't take sweets from babies. Only a child could have been taken in by someone as callow as Jeremy.'

‘I suppose I deserved that,’ she said wearily. She held out her hand. ‘Goodbye, Mr Lord. It's been salutory, if nothing else.'

He ignored the gesture. ‘How do you intend to leave here, and where do you propose to go?'

Catriona was taken aback. ‘There are taxis, I suppose. And hotels.'

‘There are,’ he agreed. ‘But only if you have money. And some of the more respectable hotels also like you to have luggage.'

Catriona was silent. It was like playing chess with an expert, she thought. Every move she tried to make was anticipated and blocked.

‘So let's look at the alternative,’ he went on calmly. ‘Go upstairs and repair your make-up and have the inevitable confrontation with Jeremy. Oh yes,’ he took her chin in his hand as she flinched involuntarily, ‘you can tell him what tale you like, as long as it's not the unvarnished truth. Don't let him have that satisfaction. And then I'll take you home, pride intact.'

It did not occur to Catriona until she was sitting in one of the elaborately furnished bedrooms, renewing her lipstick, that Jason Lord had not specified precisely where ‘home’ was.

As he had predicted, it was inevitable when she emerged from the bedroom that Jeremy was waiting outside.

‘Trina!’ His face was white, and he moistened his lips nervously. ‘I couldn't believe it. What on earth are you doing here? Who brought you?'

Afterwards Catriona was amazed at the way the lie sprang so readily to her lips.

‘Oh, I know it was mean,’ she said, smiling radiantly at him. ‘But Jason and I just thought what a joke it would be if I—turned up, like a skeleton from the past. And your face was marvellous when you saw me. I wouldn't have missed it.'

Relief was struggling with incredulity on his face. ‘You're Jason's girl?’ he queried sharply.

‘Quite correct.’ Jason himself joined them, looking faintly amused. ‘I don't think you realise just what you've let slip through your fingers this time, dear nephew.'

Jeremy laughed uneasily. ‘Oh, Trina's an angel. I—I don't blame you at all. It was just such a—surprise.'

‘Well, the world's full of surprises,’ Catriona said gaily. ‘Poor lamb, I should have let you know I was here, but Jason has hardly given me time to breathe since I got to London.'

Jason came to stand beside her, dropping his arm lightly across her shoulders. She felt the usual urge to draw away, but was forced to stand still in his embrace, trapped by her own pretence. She noticed he was carrying her stole over his arm.

‘Are you leaving already?’ Jeremy asked, his voice sharp with curiosity.

‘Why, yes.’ Before Catriona could move, or protest, Jason bent and kissed her slowly and deliberately on the mouth. ‘It's time, I think, that all good little girls were in bed,’ he went on, smiling down into her outraged eyes.

Jeremy flushed, and he looked at Catriona with unmistakable speculation.

‘So that's how it is. Fine. Be happy,’ he said, with a fair attempt at nonchalance.

‘Besides,’ there was no disguising the amusement in Jason's voice, ‘Sally would never forgive me if I kept Catriona out too late.'

Jeremy looked at him quickly. ‘Sally Fenton? Is Trina staying with her? I—see.'

‘I doubt it,’ Jason said lightly, and took Catriona's hand. ‘Come on, love, time to go. Tell your mother I'll phone her,’ he added to the nonplussed Jeremy as he led Catriona away.

In the car she turned on him furiously. ‘How dared you?'

‘How dared I do what?’ He was infuriatingly unruffled as the car moved down the drive and nosed out on to the road.

‘Paw me in that insulting way!’ she raged, and was further incensed by his laughter.

‘You flatter yourself, Miss Muir.’ He flashed her a swift glance. ‘Surely that can't have been the most strenuous embrace you've experienced. I must have a word with Jeremy.'

‘Oh, shut up,’ she said bitterly. ‘At least with Jeremy I never felt—besmirched.'

Something came and went in his face, but his voice was still amused. ‘I'm sure you would have done—in time.'

She sought for a retort that would silence him once and for all, but none was forthcoming, so she retired behind a hostile tight-lipped barrier of silence.

Jason Lord seemed totally unconcerned. He hummed snatches of tunes, commented on the road conditions and eventually with a courteous, ‘I hope you don't mind,’ switched on the radio. It was a foreign station. Catriona could not recognise the announcer's accent, but the music they were playing had an oddly soothing quality. The street lights and the white lines on the road became fused in a soft blurring of consciousness. Her head slipped sideways on to her companion's shoulder, and her breathing became soft and even.

She was floating on a cloud, weightless and carefree. Jeremy was beside her, his kisses light as Highland mist on her face. How warm she was, how safe. Then a shadow came between them, and someone was shaking the cloud, which was breaking up and dissolving. It was Jason Lord, his face satyr-like. ‘Come down off Cloud Seven, Miss Muir,’ he was saying. ‘Come down. Come down.’ And his hands were hard on her shoulders, shaking her so that she tried to cry out, only the cloud was muffling her.

Gasping for breath, she struggled out from under the Continental quilt to find Jason Lord standing over her with a cup and saucer.

‘You are a violent little thing in the mornings,’ he commented sarcastically. ‘Do you want this coffee in bed or over it?'

Catriona stared at him for one panic-stricken moment, then huddled the quilt over her bare shoulders.

‘It's all right,’ he said with studied patience. ‘It's only your dress that's missing. I assumed you wouldn't want to ruin it by sleeping in it, so I put it on a hanger in the wardrobe.'

‘You did—what?'

‘Oh, grow up,’ he snapped. ‘You surely don't think there's anything indecent in that boned effort and long waist slip you're wearing. There were women at the party last night showing twice as much.'

Catriona was crimson from head to foot. ‘Do you mind telling me what I'm doing here?’ she inquired icily.

‘With pleasure.’ He sat down on the edge of the bed, to her immediate alarm. ‘You're here as a very temporary lodger, and as soon as I can get Sally Fenton on the telephone and talk her into taking you on, you're leaving.'

Catriona quivered. ‘I don't know that I care to be passed on like an unwanted package,’ she began.

‘And I don't know that you have any choice,’ he interrupted. ‘I happen to know Sally is looking for another girl to share with, and it could be a way out of the woods for us both. I'm not happy at the idea of you drifting out into the city jungle with no one to keep an eye on you.'

‘I'm not a child,’ Catriona said defiantly.

‘Oh, no. Your actions have been characterised by your maturity since you got off the train,’ he retorted.

‘But I don't know this Sally,’ she protested.

‘You know her as well as most girls who share flats these days. Often they just answer each other's ads. In your case, it's me doing the arranging instead of a newspaper. And I'm sure you'll like Sally.'

‘Well, that makes everything all right, doesn't it?’ she said, trying to emulate his sarcasm.

‘Only you can do that,’ he told her. ‘You say you have nowhere to return to in Scotland. You may as well live up to the story you told nephew Jeremy and try enjoying yourself in London for a change. Sally'll help you find a job of some kind. She's an actress, so she's used to finding herself temporary work between engagements.'

‘I see.’ Catriona stared unseeingly at the pattern on the quilt. ‘All right, I'll give it a try. And—thank you,’ she added with difficulty.

‘Well, let's not strain common civility any further,’ he said, but he was smiling. ‘Come on, drink this while it's still hot.'

Catriona accepted the cup meekly and began to sip. She allowed Jason Lord to reach the door before halting him with a wide-eyed, ‘Oh, Mr Lord. Forgive me for asking, but is Sally—one of your women?'

She expected an angry outburst, but instead he leaned against the door, smiling lazily.

‘No, as a matter of fact, though I'm flattered by your interest,’ he said. ‘Can it be because you imagine you've joined those select ranks yourself?'

In spite of the sheltering quilt and her quite adequate covering beneath it, Catriona felt naked under his insolent gaze.

‘If so, let me disabuse your little head of any such notion.’ His voice lengthened to a drawl. ‘As I told you last night, I don't take sweets from babies, especially when they're asleep. Among other things I require of “my women”, as you so elegantly put it, is that they at least remain awake and give me their undivided attention. You fail on both counts.'

And the door closed behind him, as the pillow, hurled with all the force Catriona could muster, thudded against it.

Almost in spite of herself, Catriona found that she liked Sally Fenton on sight. Sally was small and red-headed with delicate mobile features and an impish smile. Her eyes were dancing as she flung open the front door of the flat.

‘Jason, angel!’ She flung herself rapturously at him. ‘You've saved my life. Ever since that idiot Jill went back to Birmingham, I've been desperate.'

‘Careful, Sal.’ Jason disengaged himself and sent a glinting look at Catriona. ‘You'll be giving Miss Muir the wrong idea.'

‘Miss Muir? Oh, surely not. It's Catriona, isn't it, just like in Robert Louis Stevenson,’ Sally said gaily, taking her hands. ‘Please come in and say you like it and that you'll stay for at least a little while. I need the extra rent—not to mention the company.'

‘Don't tell her that,’ Jason admonished, sitting on the edge of the table and lighting a cigarette. ‘She's a Scot and intensely money-conscious.'

‘That's not true,’ Catriona began indignantly, then subsided as Sally exclaimed, ‘Oh, just ignore him. He says the most appalling things about everyone. But we have to forgive him because he's so important—aren't you, darling?’ And she wrinkled her nose at him.

‘Not important to you, at any rate, Sally,’ he said drily. ‘I'll fetch Miss Muir's things from the car.'

‘And we'll make up the other bed,’ Sally said. ‘The bedroom's only tiny, I'm afraid. I hope you haven't got too many clothes.'

Catriona swallowed. ‘I've hardly got any,’ she admitted.

‘Oh.’ Sally swung round and regarded her for a moment. ‘Well, that's super. We can go shopping. Don't look so frightened—you don't have to spend the earth to create a good effect. And it will be no good applying to the agency I go to in jeans,’ she added practically. ‘A trouser suit, perhaps, but those have rather seen better days, haven't they?'

It was impossible to take offence, Catriona thought amusedly, as she helped Sally unload sheets and covers from an old-fashioned blanket box that doubled as a window seat in the little bedroom. In spite of its size, it was gay with cheerful wallpaper and sparkling white paint and there were pretty turquoise curtains at the window.

‘Here's Jason with your stuff,’ said Sally, tucking in a corner of the bedspread. ‘Give him a hand while I empty a couple of drawers for you.'

Catriona went back reluctantly into the living room in time to see Jason depositing her guitar case on the floor beside the table. Her rucksack was there already, and so were a pile of silver dress boxes marked with the name of the store they had visited the day before.

‘I think there's some mistake,’ Catriona said quickly.

‘What have I forgotten?’ He straightened, eyeing her.

Catriona pointed at the boxes. ‘They don't belong to me.'

‘Don't be a fool,’ he said curtly. ‘Of course they're yours. What earthly use could they be to me? And don't say I could give them to one of “my women” or I swear I'll turn you across my knee and give you the hiding you've been asking for since I met you.'

‘I wasn't going to say that,’ she said quietly. ‘But I can't accept these clothes. You must see that. I—I can't afford to pay for them just now either, as you know. I only took them to begin with because I thought that …’ her voice trailed away miserably.

‘You thought Jeremy would pay for them as your husband,’ he finished for her. ‘But as I told you, it's in the family. Of course——’ his voice took on that drawling note she had come to dread—‘if you insist on repaying me in some other way, I'm sure we can come to some arrangement.'

‘Please don't,’ she said with difficulty. ‘I want to thank you for everything, and you don't make it easy.'

‘I don't make it easy for myself either,’ he answered abruptly. He came over and stood looking down at her. ‘Thank me, then,’ he said, smiling faintly.

She lowered her eyes hurriedly to the faded pattern on the carpet. ‘I'm much obliged to you,’ she said eventually.

Jason gave a swift, impatient sigh. ‘Don't be,’ he said brusquely. ‘I'm sure Cinderella would never have said that to Bluebeard. Goodbye, Catriona. Keep in touch.’ And he was gone.

‘Now you see him, now you don't,’ said Sally cheerfully from the doorway. ‘Old Moira will certainly have to go some, if she intends pinning him down for life.'

‘Moira?'

‘Of course you don't know. Stupid of me,’ Sally sat down on a battered-looking armchair and sighed. ‘Moira Dane, I mean. She's playing the lead in the TV play I'm in, and at the moment she's hell-bent on letting us all know it. And now she's got her beady eye on Jason. She's been sticking to him like glue ever since casting.'

‘Does he produce plays as well as his other work?’ Catriona asked.

‘No-o.’ Sally looked at her oddly. ‘Didn't he explain? Well, perhaps not. Anyway, he's in and out of our rehearsals quite a bit for one reason and another, and I'm afraid one of the reasons could be Moira.'

‘I suppose she's very attractive,’ Catriona said.

‘Absolutely gorgeous. She's a redhead like me, but that's about all we have in common. We're supposed to be sisters in the play, so our colouring had to be similar, I suppose,’ Sally said. ‘It's a marvellous chance for me as long as I don't let Moira goad me into walking out or anything daft.'

‘Is she that bad?’ Catriona was sympathetic.

‘She gets us all down at times—except Jason. He doesn't let anyone, especially a woman, get to him to that extent,’ Sally said. ‘But she can be really nasty. I suppose she's the sort who would stand on your foot if she thought you had a corn.’ She got up briskly. ‘Now, I have a rehearsal in about an hour. I'd better show you our splendid kitchen.’ She whisked back a gingham curtain in one corner to reveal a miniature sink and cooker crammed into an alcove. ‘Food in left-hand cupboard, under fridge. Soap, cleaning stuff and everything else in the other one. Any questions?'

‘Is there any room for them?’ Catriona laughed.

‘Not really,’ Sally twinkled back at her. ‘I am glad you're here. Are you going to have a few days’ sightseeing and general enjoyment before you look for a job? I should.'

Catriona looked at her doubtfully. ‘If that's all right.'

‘Of course it is. I'll try and get you a pass to see round the TV centre too. Perhaps you could watch the dress rehearsal for the play. I'm sure Hugo wouldn't mind—he's the producer. I'll mention it to him.'

‘I don't want to be any trouble——’ Catriona began diffidently, and Sally grinned at her.

‘That's not what Jason said about you on the phone this morning. He said you were a permanent thorn in his flesh—a little Scottish thistle.'

‘And he,’ said Catriona clearly, ‘is quite the most arrogant, detestable—creature I've ever met.'

‘That's because you haven't met Moira,’ said Sally.