Flawless

‘I’m taking nothing for granted where you’re concerned, lady. That’s why we’re having this meal together—to see if we can establish some kind of basis to proceed from.’

‘And if we can’t?’

It was Saul’s turn to shrug. ‘Then I find another Flawless Girl from somewhere. No one’s irreplaceable, after all.’

‘Is that Public Warning Number One?’

‘You’re in the business,’ he said. ‘You know the score as well as I do.’ There was a brief silence, then, ‘Your agent really doesn’t want you to do this, does he?’

‘Clive has—reservations.’

‘But he said it was your decision.’ He sent her a sideways glance. ‘He made me wonder if you were just playing games with me—playing hard to get.’

‘Of course not. Why on earth should I?’ Her mouth was dry suddenly.

‘You tell me,’ he said laconically.

Carly was quiet for a moment. Then she said, ‘Perhaps I should put my cards on the table. I was in two minds about the Flawless assignment when I went to the reception tonight. I—I still am, come to that.’ She ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip. ‘But you were right about one thing—I did want you to notice me, and that was even before I realised who you were.’

‘I’m flattered.’

‘And I’m ashamed,’ she returned. ‘I shocked myself this evening. I don’t usually—come on so strong.’ She forced a little laugh. ‘There—confession over.’

‘You won’t be made to do penance,’ he said. ‘I’m glad to know the attraction was mutual. Now, all we have to do is relax and enjoy the rest of the evening.’

He found a parking space, and they walked the remaining hundred yards to the restaurant’s entrance. Carly had half expected Saul to put his hand under her arm, or clasp her fingers with his as they walked along, but he made no attempt to touch her even in a casual way. In view of her recent admission, she found this restraint intriguing, but she was relieved by it too.

It wasn’t a large restaurant, and it relied heavily on the intimacy of its atmosphere. The lights were low, the tables screened from each other by trellis-work covered in climbing plants, and in one corner a lone guitarist played music which was pleasant without being obtrusive.

‘The food here used to be wonderful,’ Saul remarked, handing her a menu.

It still was. They ate stuffed courgette flowers, and scallops grilled in their shells, followed by osso buco and roast quails with polenta. To finish the meal Carly had a frothy chocolate concoction, rich with cream and liqueur, and Saul asked for cheese. The coffee was strong, black and aromatic, and served with Strega.

While they ate, the conversation had been general. Carly had encouraged Saul to talk about his life in America, and the glossy magazine scene in New York. He also told her about a book he had coming out.

‘I did a hell of a lot of travelling while I was over there,’ he said. ‘So, it’s a kind of odyssey in pictures. My tribute to everything I liked best about life Stateside. Places and people that I loved.’

His tone gave nothing away, but Carly found herself wondering how many of those people had been women.

‘It sounds—illuminating,’ she said. ‘Do you intend to go back to America?’

Saul signalled for more coffee. ‘At the moment, I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘My plans are—fluid. I need to see how things work out for me here, once the Flawless assignment is finished.’ He paused. ‘And, while we’re on the subject, have you come to any decision yet?’

Carly gasped. ‘I’ve hardly had time to think,’ she began.

‘Really?’ He gave her a straight look. ‘I had the impression several times tonight that you were so deep in thought you were a million miles away.’

She flushed a little. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve been poor company …’

‘I didn’t say that.’ He leaned forward. ‘If you’re still not sure, spend the day with me tomorrow, and I’ll take some pictures of you—convince you that way.’

Carly shook her head. ‘I can’t tomorrow. I’m going home to visit.’

‘Where is home?’

‘In the country. Very quiet and dull.’

‘With you there?’ He slanted a smile at her. ‘Impossible. Tell you what, why don’t I come with you? I was going to walk you along the Embankment and through the parks, but a rural background would be even better.’

‘I’m sorry, but it’s out of the question.’ Her flush deepened. ‘It’s going to be rather hectic—a houseful of people. My sister’s getting engaged.’

‘Not so quiet and dull, after all,’ he said.

‘It usually is. My family is—very conventional. I don’t think they altogether approve of my life in London.’

‘And what heinous sins do they think you commit? Perhaps I could reassure them.’

‘But you don’t know me,’ she said. ‘You don’t know what I’m capable of.’

‘Not at this moment,’ he said. ‘But I intend to know you, Carly North, in every way there is.’

He was smiling, but as the grey eyes met hers Carly was conscious of a curious intentness in their depths. She felt vulnerable suddenly, and afraid, as if Saul’s gaze was probing too deeply, staring straight into her mind, laying bare all her innermost secrets.

Her heart missed a beat, and her throat felt tight. She said huskily, ‘I find remarks like that—distasteful.’

‘Then I apologise.’ He didn’t sound sorry at all. ‘I’ll begin our acquaintance solely through the lens of a camera, and in no other way, I swear.’ He stretched out a hand to her across the table, and reluctantly she allowed his fingers to close round hers. ‘Will you work with me, Carly North? Will you be my Flawless Girl?’

‘I can’t tell you now. I have to think about it.’ She withdrew her hand from his grasp. ‘May I have the weekend?’

‘I won’t argue with that.’ He took a diary out of an inside pocket of his dinner-jacket, tore out a page and scribbled down a telephone number. ‘Call me on this when you’ve decided.’ He paused. ‘You say that your sister’s getting engaged. What about you, Carly? You’re not wearing any rings, but that doesn’t mean a whole lot in these liberated days. Are you attached? Are there any lovers or husbands lurking in your vicinity?’

‘There’s nobody.’

‘You astound me.’

‘It’s through my own choice.’ She despised the defensiveness in her own voice.

‘I’m sure it is.’

‘Am I allowed to ask you the same question? How many ex-wives have you left sighing over you?’

‘None at all—and no present Mrs Kingsland either.’ He was laughing openly. ‘I am entirely without encumbrances.’

Of course he was, she thought. Saul Kingsland was a rolling stone, a man who would never settle or opt for an ordered existence. He would walk into a woman’s life, take what he wanted, and walk on without a backward look. A wreaker of havoc, unknowing and uncaring. And you didn’t even have to be a woman to suffer at his hands.

Abruptly, Carly pushed back her chair. ‘I really should be going.’

‘Already? It’s still relatively early.’

‘I have to leave first thing in the morning. My mother will be needing help with the arrangements.’

‘Ah, yes,’ he said softly. ‘The devoted daughter rushing back to the bosom of the family. Oddly enough, that’s not the impression I had of you. When I saw you standing in the moonlight, I thought I’d never seen anyone look so solitary—so used to being alone. It just shows how wrong one can be.’

‘First impressions are often misleading.’ She made her voice deliberately dismissive. ‘Would you ask someone to find me a cab, please?’

Saul looked at her in surprise. ‘There’s no need for that. I’ll drive you home.’

‘I—I don’t want to take you out of your way.’

‘That’s very thoughtful of you.’ His smile was sardonic. ‘How do you know that you will be?’

‘I—don’t, actually.’

‘Then there’s no more to be said,’ he told her, indicating to the head waiter that he required the bill.

Carly bit her lip, trying to hide her annoyance.

‘Do you never take “no” for an answer?’ she enquired acidly, when they were in the car, and he was following her reluctantly given instructions.

‘It depends on how positive the “no” is,’ he said. ‘In your case it was just a ploy to prevent me knowing where you lived for some reason, and a useless ploy at that.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because there are plenty of ways of finding your address if I were sufficiently desperate,’ he said. ‘There’s the phone book, for starters.’ He slanted a frowning look at her. ‘So, for goodness’ sake calm down, and stop being so damned uptight,’ he went on. ‘There’s nothing to be scared of. You have my word on that. I’m not going to pressure you, or make a nuisance of myself by camping on your doorstep. Perhaps events have moved rather too fast tonight, but from now on we’ll take things just as easily as you wish.’

‘Thank you.’ Her hands gripped tautly together in her lap.

‘I learned some relaxation techniques in the States.’ He didn’t miss a thing. He added, with a smile in his voice, ‘If you asked me nicely, I might be prepared to teach them to you.’

‘I’ll bear it in mind.’ She made herself speak lightly. She’d let him think she’d been instantly attracted to him, for heaven’s sake. Now she was treating him as if he was some plague carrier. ‘Actually, you’re quite right. This evening has been—totally outside my experience. I’m in a state of complete confusion.’

‘I’m still in shock myself,’ Saul said drily. ‘Perhaps the weekend will help us get our heads together.’

The remainder of the journey was completed in silence, to Carly’s relief.

Saul stopped the car, and glanced up at the block of flats. ‘Very nice,’ he commented. ‘Your career really is doing well.’ He paused. ‘Do you live by yourself?’

She shook her head. ‘I share with another girl. She works for a television company.’

‘Is she there at the moment?’

‘No,’ Carly said, before she could stop herself. ‘She’s abroad with a film crew.’

‘Then I’ll go up with you,’ he said.

She looked at him in total dismay, and his mouth tightened.

‘And not for the reasons you seem to think,’ he added bitingly. ‘My motives are actually quite chivalrous. I want to make sure you get home safely.’

‘Don’t you feel you’re being rather over-protective?’

‘No, I don’t. I took a girl home from a party in New York over a year ago. She was independent, too, and insisted on saying goodnight on the pavement. When she got up to her apartment, someone had broken in, and she was attacked and badly injured. If I’d insisted on escorting her to the door, it might not have happened. I’m not taking the risk again.’

‘In case you hadn’t noticed, this is London, not New York.’

‘Just a different part of the jungle, lady.’ He walked up the steps beside her, and opened the swing doors.

She stood beside him in the lift in resentful silence. Walked along the passage to the door, still without speaking.

“May I have your key?’ Saul held out his hand.

‘Oh, this is silly,’ Carly burst out in exasperation as she gave it to him. ‘Just how many times do you think I’ve come back here alone at night? Lucy’s away a lot.’

‘That was in the bad old days.’ He unlocked the door, and pushed it open. ‘Now you don’t have to be alone any more, unless you want to be.’

Carly lifted her chin. ‘Is that a hint that you want to stay for more coffee—or a nightcap—or whatever the current euphemism is? How very obvious.’

‘No,’ he said calmly. ‘It’s more a declaration of intent.’

He was standing very close to her. She could actually feel the warmth of his body. Suddenly Carly found it difficult to breathe. Any moment now, she thought wildly, and he would reach out for her, take her in his arms, and she was terrified. She felt as if she was balanced on a knife-edge, every nerve-ending tingling in alarm and anticipation.

Kiss me, she thought, her heart beating violently against her ribcage. Kiss me and get it over with.

As he moved, her eyelids fluttered down, and her lips parted in a little unconscious sigh. Her whole body tensed, waiting to feel his hands on her, his mouth against hers.

He said quietly, ‘Goodnight, Flawless Girl. Call me after the weekend, and let me know what you’ve decided.’

The door closed softly, and he was gone.

Carly’s eyes flew open, and she stood rigid for a long moment, staring at the enigmatic wooden panels; then, with a small sob, she hurled herself forward, putting up the chain and securing the interior bolt with hands that shook.

She’d been so sure that, in spite of her protestations, he would offer at least a token pass. Now, paradoxically, she felt that he’d made a fool of her.

And that’s ridiculous, she thought. Because Saul Kingsland is the one who’s been fooled. I’ve done it. I’ve succeeded. I’ve won.

She laughed out loud, and the sound echoed eerily in the quiet flat.

She walked into her bedroom, shedding her few clothes as she went, and straight into the bathroom which separated her room from Lucy’s, stepping into the shower, and turning the warm spray full on. She stood motionless, letting the water pour over her, soaking her hair, and running in rivulets down her skin.

Washing Saul Kingsland away.

But only for the time being, she reminded herself with a sharp stab of excitement as she reluctantly turned off the water, and stepped back on to the thick mat, reaching for a towel.

On Monday, she would make that call, and after that—she drew a breath. After that, whatever would be, would be.

As she turned, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and almost recoiled. It was like seeing a stranger, or her own bad angel, eyes glittering with malevolence, bright, febrile colour along her cheekbones, the soft mouth starkly compressed.

Revenge might be sweet, but, dear heaven, what would it cost her in human terms?

The image in the mirror blurred suddenly and, bending her head, Carly began to weep—for the girl she’d been, and for the woman she’d become.

The sun was pouring into the bedroom the next morning, as she packed a weekend bag with her usual economy. The dress she had bought specially to wear for the party was already waiting in its protective cover, and she grimaced slightly as she lifted it down and carried it out to her car.

A greater contrast to the dress she’d worn the previous night could not be imagined, she thought wryly. But then, she hardly looked the same girl at all. She was simply and casually dressed in tailored cream linen trousers with a matching jacket over a short-sleeved khaki T-shirt. Her hair was gathered into a single plait, and allowed to hang over one shoulder, and her face was innocent of all cosmetics but a touch of moisturiser.

As she loaded the car, she couldn’t resist a furtive look round. In spite of his assurances, Saul Kingsland might be there watching her, perhaps from one of the row of parked cars across the street.

Oh, stop it, she adjured herself impatiently. That’s the way to paranoia.

Traffic was heavy, and getting out of London required all her concentration. She couldn’t relax until trees and fields began to replace suburban sprawl. She lowered the window a little, to enjoy the sunlit breeze, and put a cassette of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons into the tape machine, then sat back to savour the remainder of her journey.

An hour later, she turned the car into the gravelled sweep of the drive and saw the familiar red-brick Georgian bulk of the house awaiting her. She drove round to the rear, and parked in the former stables, slotting her Polo in between her father’s Bentley and the sedate estate car her mother preferred.

She sat for a moment, staring in front of her, then, with a smothered sigh, collected her things, and walked down the covered way to the side entrance.

There was a lot of activity already, she saw. A large marquee had been erected on the lawn, and folding tables and chairs were being carried into it. As she watched, a florist’s van drew up in front of the house, and two women dressed in pink overalls got out. Presently, no doubt, the caterers’ vehicles would also be arriving.

Mother will be in her element, Carly thought, her mouth twisting. She’ll be able to use it as a trial run for Susan’s actual wedding. And I’m about as necessary in all this as an extra thumb.

She caught a movement in the large conservatory which flanked the lawn and, smiling a little, trod quietly across the gravel and stood in the doorway watching the tall, grey-haired man who was deftly repotting some plants.

‘Hello, Father.’

He turned with an obvious start, and peered at her. ‘Why, Caroline,’ he said, ‘so you’ve come. Your mother wasn’t sure … Well, this is splendid—splendid.’ He paused, then added another vague, ‘Splendid.’

Carly bit her lip. ‘I did say I was coming,’ she said, quietly. ‘If I’m not expected—if my room’s being used, I can always try the pub.’

‘Certainly not. I’m sure your room’s ready and waiting for you, my dear, although, of course, your mother always handles those arrangements. She’s in the drawing-room, having coffee with your Aunt Grace. I said I’d join them once I’d finished this and washed my hands, but now …’ His voice tailed off expectantly.

‘But now that I’ve arrived, it will let you off the hook,’ Carly supplied drily.

‘Well, all this talk about engagements and weddings,’ he said. ‘Not my sort of thing at all, you know. They’ll start on christenings next, I dare say,’ he added with disfavour.

‘I can imagine.’ Carly slanted a smile at him. ‘Stay with your beloved plants, Dad. I’ll try and ensure you’re not missed.’

As she entered the hall, she could hear Aunt Grace’s authoritative tones issuing from the drawing-room. She pulled a small face. Her mother’s older sister held strong views on everything, from the government in power down to the deplorable attitude of today’s shop assistants. Since her only daughter’s marriage and departure for New Zealand a few years previously, she had lived in Bournemouth, which she rarely left. Carly couldn’t help wishing that she had not decided to make an exception to this excellent rule for Susan’s engagement party.

She resolutely pinned on a smile as she went into the drawing-room. ‘Hello, Mummy, Aunt Grace. How are you both?’

There was an immediate surprised silence. Carly was aware of both pairs of eyes riveted on her, taking in every detail of her appearance. She put down her case, and draped her dress-carrier over the back of a chair.

‘Is that coffee? I’d love some.’

‘Of course, dear.’ Mrs Foxcroft filled the third cup waiting on the tray and proffered it to her younger daughter. ‘Did you have a good drive down?’

‘Marvellous, thank you.’ Carly bent and kissed her mother’s cheek, and, more fleetingly, her aunt’s. ‘You’re both looking very well.’

Her mother smiled awkwardly. ‘And so are you, darling. Positively—radiant. Isn’t she, Grace?’

‘Hm,’ said Mrs Brotherton. ‘Try as I may, Veronica, I still cannot accustom myself … However,’ she turned to Carly, ‘I saw a photograph of you in a magazine at my hairdressers’ last month, Caroline. You were wearing an extraordinary garment in white taffeta, and seemed to be standing in an area of slum clearance.’

‘Oh, the Fabioni. I remember it well.’ Carly laughed. ‘It was incredibly cold that day—the middle of winter, in fact—and we were down by the river. Did you manage to count my goose-pimples?’

‘I find it very odd,’ said Aunt Grace majestically, ‘that a reputable journal should find it necessary to photograph an evening dress outdoors in broad daylight, and inclement weather.’

‘It’s because of publishing schedules,’ Carly told her. ‘Fur coats in August, and bikinis in December. The bane of a model’s life.’ She looked at her mother. ‘Where’s Susan? Resting for the big occasion?’

‘She’s gone with Anthony to look at the house his father is giving them as a wedding present. Apparently it needs a great deal doing to it, and work will have to start almost at once if it’s to be ready for them to move into after the wedding.’

‘Have they set a date yet?’ Carly asked casually. ‘I’ll need to know fairly well in advance.’

‘I believe they’re thinking of October,’ her mother returned. ‘I know Susan wants to talk to you about it,’ she added, after a pause.

‘Oh, good.’ Carly drank some of her coffee, feeling another silence about to press down on them all. She decided to prevent it. ‘How are James and Louise?’ she asked her aunt.

‘They seem happily settled. The farm is not too isolated, fortunately, so Louise can get into the nearby town for shopping, and other essentials. She is expecting another baby in July.’

‘So soon?’ That made three in just over five years, Carly thought, blinking. ‘Maybe Louise should consider spending even more time in town,’ she joked feebly.

‘Caroline, dear,’ her mother said repressively, while Aunt Grace looked more forbidding than ever.

‘I’m sorry.’ Carly drained her cup, and rose to her feet. ‘I’ll go and unpack. Am I in my old room?’

‘Well, actually, dear, I was wondering if you’d mind using the nursery—just this once, of course. Jean and Arthur Lewis found they could come, after all, and as it’s such a long way for them to travel I did offer …’

‘… my room to them.’ Carly completed the hesitant sentence. ‘Of course they must have it. They’re such old friends, after all. I quite understand. Well—I’ll see you both later.’ She paused at the door. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help, you only have to ask.’

‘That’s very sweet of you, dear, but everything’s under control.’

‘Yes,’ Carly said gently, ‘I’m sure it is.’

Susan’s engagement to Anthony Farrar, the son of a local landowner, had been hoped for and planned for over a very long period, she thought with irony as she climbed the broad sweep of stairs. Susan had first met Anthony at a hunt ball when she was eighteen, and had made up her mind there and then to marry him. Everything that had happened since had been like a long and fraught military campaign, with triumphs and reverses in almost equal proportions.

Carly herself had wondered more than once if Anthony was worth all this agonising over. He was attractive enough in a fair-haired, typically English way—certainly better-looking than either of his sisters, she allowed judiciously—but she’d always found him humourless, and suspected as well that he might share his father’s notoriously roving eye.

But Susan clearly regarded her engagement as a major victory, Carly thought wryly, as she went up the second flight of stairs to the old nursery quarters. So, heaven forbid that she should be a dissenting voice amid the jubilation.

Not that Sue would listen if I was, she thought with a sigh, as she opened the nursery door.

It was hardly recognisable as the room she and her sister had once shared. All the old furniture had gone, and so had the toys—the doll’s house, the rocking-horse, and the farmyard animals. It was now, very obviously, a very spare bedroom, she thought, dumping her case down on the narrow single bed, furnished with unwanted odds and ends from the rest of the house. Only the white-painted bars across the windows revealed its original purpose.

She opened her case and put the few items it contained into the chest of drawers.

The photograph, as always, was at the bottom of the case. She extracted it, and placed it carefully on the dressing-chest next to the mirror.

She stood for a long moment, staring at it. The child’s face looked back at her, its eager brightness diminished by the heavy glasses, and the protruding front teeth that the shy smile revealed.

Slowly, her hands curled into taut fists at her sides, and as gradually relaxed again.

An object lesson in how not to look.

And one, she thought, that she would never forget.

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