Part 57 (2/2)
”I'm sure he doesn't think that right now,” she ventured, rising to her feet. ”Thank you for being so understanding. I feel better after talking to you and much more positive about the future. And now I'm going to leave you in peace, to have your dinner. I've taken up far too much of your evening as it is.”
He squeezed her arm affectionately as he escorted her across the drawing room and out into the small foyer. Loving her mother as he did, he considered Paula to be the daughter he had never had. He felt inordinately protective of her sometimes. Shrewd and clever in business though she was, she had had little or no experience with men, had been protected all of her life by Emma Harte and her parents. In many ways, the harsher aspects of everyday living were unknown to her, and she might well be an easy target for an unscrupulous man.
As they reached the door, John turned her to face him. He bent forward, kissed her cheek and, with a chuckle,, said.
”You can take up my time whenever you wish, my dear. It does a crusty old bachelor like me a lot of good to see your beautiful face. I'm only sorry we were meeting to discuss such a sad matter.”
Paula hugged him affectionately. ”You're not a crusty old bachelor,” she declared, smiling at him. ”You're the most wonderful friend-to all of us. Thank you for being that, .and for everything, John. I'll speak to you before I leave for New York.”
”Please do, my dear.” He opened the door, then caught her arm as she went outside. ”It's going to be all right, Paula, really it is. Do try not to worry.”
”I will.” She ran down the short flight of steps in front of his house in Chester Street, turned and waved. John lifted his hand in response, went inside and closed the door, pressing back his concern for her. v Paula hurried down the street, making for Belgrave Square, which was only a few minutes away. She had meant it when she had told John Crawford she felt relieved after talking to him. But this was not the only reason why her depression of the last forty-eight hours had lifted so unexpectedly. Making a decision, taking positive and constructive action, had worked wonders for her. Paula never vacillated. Like Emma before her, she was expedient by nature, always preferring action and commitment to waiting. In consequence, marking time for the past year-because of Jim's plane crash and subsequent sojourn in the mental home-had been unendurable. But .she was nothing if not prudent, and she had schooled herself to be patient, had acknowledged months ago that if waiting was debilitating, it was infinitely preferable to making rash moves she might live to regret.
But now, as she walked at a brisk pace, she experienced a great sense of release. The act of talking to John, of putting matters in his hands, was liberating. She was confident he would work out an equable divorce agreement, and surely Jim would be convinced she was serious, in deadly earnest, when he knew she had taken this final step.
Paula glowed with a new optimism as she crossed Belgrave Square and went into the great mansion purchased so many years before by her grandfather, Paul McGill. She slammed the heavy exterior gla.s.s-and-wrought-iron door behind her, climbed the short circular staircase that led up to the front entrance of the maisonette, and let herself in with her key.
Slipping off her tweed coat, she hung it in the hall closet and turned as Parker came hurrying out of the back quarters and into the large entrance foyer.'
”Oh, Mrs. Fairley, I was just wondering whether I ought to telephone you at Mr. Crawford's house. Mr. O'Neill is in the drawing room. He's been waiting for you for quite a while. I gave him a drink. Would you like anything, madam?”
”No, thank you, Parker.”
Wondering what Uncle Bryan wanted, why he had arrived so unexpectedly and without ringing first, she pushed open the drawing room door and stood stock-still on the threshold. Fully expecting to see Bryan, she was thrown at the sight of Shane. He stood up, grinning like a Ches.h.i.+re cat from ear to ear.
”My G.o.d!” she cried. ”What are you doing here?” She pushed the door closed with her foot and ran into his arms, her face wreathed in delighted smiles.
Shane kissed her, took her by the shoulders and held her away from him. ”I was so worried about you after those awful phone conversations on Sat.u.r.day and Sunday that I decided to come home. I arrived at Heathrow about two hours ago.”
”Oh, Shane, I'm sorry I worried you . . . but it is a wonderful surprise to see you, and several days sooner than I expected.” She drew him over to the sofa and they sat down, continuing to hold hands. Paula said, with a bright little laugh, ”But I'm leaving for New York the day after tomorrow, and you know that-”
”I thought we'd fly back together,” he interjected, his dark eyes roving over her lovingly. ”As a matter of fact, I concocted a rather good plan in the last half hour. I thought I'd sidetrack for a few days, whisk you off to Barbados for the weekend on our way to the States. What do you think?”
”Oh, Shane,” Paula began and hesitated, her face sobering. She said gravely, ”I told you Jim asked me if there is another man. And even though I denied it, 1 don't know that he's entirely convinced. What if someone should see us in Barbados? Or even traveling together? I don't want to do anything that would jeopardize my position and my custody of the children. He would be vindictive, I just know he would.”
Shane said, ”I understand your worry, darling, and I'd taken those points into consideration earlier. Now look, Paula, he's never going to be suspicious of me. It would be like his suspecting your brother Philip, for G.o.d's sake. Also, you do own a-boutique in Barbados. You've every reason to go there, to check on it. And, finally, no one will see us on the plane, and we can lay low once we get to Coral Cove.”
”n.o.body will see us?” she repeated. ”What do you mean?”
”I have another surprise for you, Beanstalk. I finally took delivery of the private jet Dad and I decided to buy for the company. I just whizzed across the Atlantic in it, but let's forget that, and pretend our trip to the Caribbean is really its inaugural flight. Come on, say yes, sweetheart.”
”All right, then,” Paula agreed, making a snap decision. Surely it was safe to travel with Shane. He was her childhood friend, after all. The grave expression fled and her violet eyes lit up. ”It's just what I need to give me a lift after the upsetting weekend.”
”Yes, it is.” He beamed at her. ”We have to think of an appropriate name for the jet, you know. Any ideas?”
”No, but I will bring a bottle of champagne and break it on the side, wet its bottom so to speak, even if we don't have a name,” she announced, enjoying the sudden and unexpected fun, the joyousness of being with him. Her heart soared with love for him, and she felt the old dizziness, the lightheadedness she experienced when she was with him again after a separation. Shane made all the difference in the world to her. And he made everything seem possible. The residue of her depression fell away so completely it might never have existed.
Shane now pulled her to her feet. -”I told Parker you were going out to dinner. I hope you don't mind my taking you over.” He gave her his boyish grin and kissed her forehead. His face immediately turned serious. ”I want to know about your meeting with John. We can talk about it over a bottle of good wine and a pleasant meal at the White Elephant.”
Chapter Fifty.
The chalet was deserted.
Emily realized this as she ran lightly down the stairs and stood poised in the circular entrance hall, her head c.o.c.ked on one side as she listened for the usual morning sounds. Generally voices and laughter reverberated and the radio was always playing in the background. But all were absent on this Sat.u.r.day morning late in January.
Swinging to her left, Emily went into the dining room. Her mother was standing near the window, holding a small hand mirror and peering at her face in great concentration.
”Good morning, Mummy,” Emily called in a cheery tone from the doorway and meandered across the floor.
Elizabeth turned with swiftness, smiled, and said, ”Oh, Emily, there you are. Good morning, darling.”
After planting a kiss on her mother's cheek, Emily sat down at the long rustic table and lifted the coffeepot. She asked, ”Where is everybody?”
For a moment Elizabeth did not answer, continuing to examine her face in the bright sunlight pouring in through the window, and then, sighing under her breath, she joined her daughter at the table. ”The devoted skiers left ages ago, as they always do. You've just missed Winston. He decided to go skiing at the last minute, and hurried off, hoping to catch up with the others. Apparently you were sleeping so soundly he didn't have the heart to wake you. He asked me to tell you he'll see you at lunch.”
”I just couldn't get up early this morning,” Emily murmured, stirring her coffee, eyeing the croissants longingly. They smelled delicious. Her mouth watered.'
”I'm not surprised. It was awfully late when everyone left last night. I'm paying for it myself this morning-” Elizabeth cut herself short, glanced at Emily quickly. ”Do you think I need to have my eyes done?”
Laughing, Emily put down the coffee cup and leaned across the table, staring at her mother's eyes. She was accustomed to such questions and aware that she had to pay the strictest attention when they were asked. She shook her head several times. ”No, of course you don't. Your eyes are marvelous.”
”Do you really think so, dear?” Elizabeth lifted the mirror and gazed at herself again.
”For heaven's sake, Mummy, you're a young woman, only fifty-”
”Not so loud, darling,” Elizabeth muttered. She placed the mirror on the table and went on: ”I must admitI have been i toying with the idea lately. I think my lids look a bit wrin-kled. Marc is so conscious of a woman's looks, and being older than he is-””I didn't know he was younger than you, Mummy! He certainly doesn't look it.”This seemed to cheer Elizabeth and her face brightened. ”I'm glad to hear that, Emily, but he is younger, I'm afraid.”
”By how many years?” Emily reached for a croissant, no longer able to resist temptation, and broke it in half.
”Five.”
”Good heavens, that's nothing. And forget about having facial surgery, Mum, you're a beautiful woman
and don't look a day older than forty.” Emily plunged her knife into the mound of creamy b.u.t.ter, lavishly
spread it on a portion of the breakfast roll and added peach jam.
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