White Rose Of Winter

When Robert opened the boot to take out their luggage, the commissionaire left his office to approach them. ‘Good afternoon, sir. May I be of assistance?’

Robert shook his head, drops of water sparkling on the thick darkness of his hair. ‘Thank you, Norris, I can manage. Miserable afternoon, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Norris looked curiously at Julie and Emma, who had climbed out of the car and were standing together looking vaguely lost and alien.

Robert intercepted Norris’s interest and standing down the cases, he straightened and slammed the boot lid. ‘My sister-in-law and her daughter are staying with me for a few days,’ he commented by way of an explanation. ‘They’ve just arrived back from Malaya.’

Julie’s eyes widened at this unexpected piece of information. They were to stay with Robert?

But she could not say anything with Norris looking on, so she confined herself to a pointed stare at her brother-in-law. However, Robert seemed utterly indifferent to her reaction, and picking up the cases he indicated that they should precede him into the building.

Julie took Emma’s hand and climbed the shallow steps seething with indignation. What did he mean? Why were they to stay with him? Lucy had said in her letters that they were to stay with her, that she was lonely now that Robert had his own apartment, that she would welcome them into her home wholeheartedly. Needless to say, Julie had taken this with some degree of scepticism. She knew her mother-in-law too well to believe that she should have changed her attitude towards her. But even so, she had never doubted the truth of the arrangements.

In the cramped environs of the lift, cramped with two adults, one child, and two suitcases, Julie had to say something.

‘Why are we to stay with you, Robert? I understood from your mother’s letters we were to stay with her.’

Robert was propped indolently against the wall of the lift, his legs astride the cases. ‘Now now, Julie,’ he responded curtly. Then to the child: ‘Well, Emma? What do you think?’

Emma was thankfully too young to be aware of the undercurrents present in the adults’ conversation and smiled up at him. ‘Does it take very long to reach the top?’

‘Not very. We’ll be there in a few seconds. Look – can you see the red light moving behind those numbers? They’re the numbers of the floors we’re passing. See – ours is this one, right at the top.’

Emma’s eyes grew wide. ‘Oh, yes. Look, Mummy, we’re almost there. Gosh, my tummy feels all empty somehow.’

There was a slowing moment when Emma looked slightly disconcerted at the sudden change in her metabolism, and then the lift stopped and Robert opened the door.

They stepped out on to a pile-carpeted hallway, but although all the lifts opened on to this hall there were only two doors, and one of them was obviously a service door. Julie was impressed in spite of herself. Robert’s apartment must be huge.

Robert lifted the cases, but as they reached the door into the apartment it opened and a man, dressed all in black, stood waiting for them. He was middle-aged, with greying gingery hair, and a ginger moustache.

‘Oh, hello there, sir,’ he greeted Robert cheerfully, his round face beaming. ‘I heard the lift and I said to Mrs. Pemberton, I bet that’s Mr. Robert, and it is!’

Robert smiled faintly. ‘Very efficient,’ he remarked dryly. ‘Here, you can take these cases.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The man came forward and as he did so Robert glanced rather reluctantly at Julie. Then he said shortly: ‘This is Halbird, Julie. He goes everywhere with me. He’s a sort of general factotum, I suppose. At any rate, he’s capable of turning his hand to anything.’

Julie smiled the sort of wintry smile that was all her tight features would run to. ‘Good afternoon, Halbird.’

‘Good afternoon, madam. And you, too, miss,’ he added, looking warmly at Emma. ‘I hope you had a pleasant journey. Not much of a day for arriving back here, though, is it? Miserable!’

‘Miserable,’ echoed Julie, and Emma, with her usual curiosity, said:

‘Why hasn’t your moustache gone grey, like your hair?’

‘Emma!’ Julie was horrified, but both Halbird and Robert laughed.

‘I don’t know, little missy,’ he replied, picking up the cases. ‘Perhaps the frost hasn’t penetrated that far yet.’

‘What do you mean?’ Emma frowned.

‘You can discuss the merits of Halbird’s appearance later, young woman,’ observed Robert then. ‘Come along. Grandma’s waiting to see you.’

But not to the extent of coming to the door to greet them, thought Julie bitterly, and then chided herself for being so petty. She had been in the country scarcely more than an hour and already she was allowing the situation to upset her.

‘Do go in,’ Robert directed, his voice noticeably cooler as he addressed his sister-in-law, but Julie drew back.

‘You lead the way, Robert,’ she insisted. ‘After all, it is your apartment.’

Robert’s eyes were hard as they encountered her defensive green ones for a brief moment, and then without a word he took Emma by the hand and walked through the cream panelled door. Julie followed more slowly, her heels sinking into the soft carpet of the entrance hall. The tapestry-hung walls were highlighted by examples of native wood-carving he had collected on his various trips abroad, and there was a cedar wood chest on which stood a vase of Peking jade which Julie realized must be priceless.

Robert didn’t stop to give them time to remove their coats but opened the door into the lounge beyond, ushering Emma before him. Julie heard her mother-in-law’s exclamation of delight when she saw her granddaughter, and then she, too, entered the huge room. And it was huge, stretching as it did from one side of the apartment block to the other, the outer wall a miracle of plate glass. But before Julie could take in the exquisite appointments of it all, her eyes focused on the woman reclining gracefully on a low couch near the windows, presently embracing Emma, and exclaiming at how tall she was and how grown-up she seemed from the toddler she remembered.

Julie stood hesitantly on the thick apricot-coloured carpet, feeling ridiculously youthful and vulnerable as she had always done in this woman’s presence. She could remember clearly the first time she had been introduced to Lucy Pemberton. Robert had introduced them, and she had known from the outset that no girl would ever live up to the standards Lucy Pemberton expected for her sons.

But now Lucy seemed to remember her daughter-in-law, and holding Emma close to her with one arm, she extended a hand to Julie. ‘Julie darling,’ she exclaimed. ‘Forgive me! But it’s so enchanting to see Emma again, and after – after everything that’s happened …’

Julie responded immediately to the emotion in Lucy’s voice, hurrying forward to bend and kiss her mother-in-law’s perfumed cheek. ‘It’s good to see you again, too, Lucy,’ she averred warmly, and then realized that Lucy hadn’t exactly said it was good to see her. But she thrust such uncharitable thoughts aside and when Lucy patted the couch beside her, she subsided into the seat and loosened her coat with nervous fingers.

‘I must apologize for not being at the airport to meet you,’ Lucy went on, her expression indulgent. ‘But I’ve had the most dreadful cold, and Robert insisted I stay here.’

‘That’s all right.’ Julie was quick to deny that any offence had been taken. ‘And are you feeling better?’

‘Oh, much better.’ Lucy looked up at Robert, who was standing watching this interchange rather grimly. ‘Darling, do you think Halbird could provide us with some tea? I’m sure Julie would love a cup, wouldn’t you, dear?’

Julie nodded, avoiding Robert’s critical stare. ‘Thank you, that would be lovely.’

‘Oh, there’s so much to say!’ exclaimed Lucy suddenly, hugging Emma close to her. ‘You and I have got to get to know one another properly, haven’t we, Emma?’

Halbird had carried in the cases and disappeared with them through another door which obviously led to the other rooms of the apartment, and Robert departed, obviously in search of him.

‘Do you live here, Grandma?’ Emma asked, looking about her in wonder, and Julie was not surprised. Life in Rhatoon had hardly prepared her for such apparent luxury. Apart from its size, the lounge was extensively furnished, but despite the quality of the furnishings it was not a bleak room. There was a warmth about it, a lived-in quality, that appealed to Julie in spite of herself. Even so, to a little girl it was all rather overwhelming and Emma seemed fascinated by the pseudo cowl-fire which broke up the central area and provided a focal point.

‘No, darling,’ Lucy was replying now. ‘Nowhere so grand. I have a flat in a mews not far from here. You’ll see it in good time, I expect. But Uncle Robert uses his apartment for entertaining, so naturally it has to be very grand and important.’

‘Entertaining?’ repeated Emma. ‘You mean he puts on shows?’

Lucy chuckled, and Julie felt impatient suddenly. Surely someone should tell her what was going on. Why were they here? Why weren’t they staying with Lucy as arranged. And why didn’t Lucy say something? When were they all going to talk? Really talk, about the things that really mattered! Like Michael’s death, for example!

CHAPTER TWO

EMMA was asleep, and Julie was changing for dinner.

The afternoon tea Halbird had provided, a delicious spread of wafer-thin sandwiches, savoury biscuits, and cream cakes, had been more than enough to make Emma drowsy, and after a swift shower she had tumbled into bed without any protest.

Their rooms were linked by the bathroom, which they were to share, and as with the lounge the appointments were attractively exquisite. Emma’s bedroom was smaller than her mother’s with a fluffy blue carpet and pale blue curtains and covers, while Julie’s room had a white carpet and violet covers and curtains. Both rooms had long fitted units to take their clothes, and during tea Halbird had hung those garments which were likely to crease in the wardrobes. The trunks containing the rest of their belongings had not arrived yet, but Julie expected they would be here in a few days as they had been sent in advance.

Julie surveyed her reflection critically in the dressing-table mirror as she brushed her hair. Had she changed much? Could Robert see much difference in her? Did she look much older?

She sighed. What did it matter what Robert thought? Although nothing had been said yet about the change in arrangements she knew that if they were to stay here for a few days it must be that Lucy had not been entirely truthful when it came to explaining the circumstances. And Julie had no intention of remaining in Robert’s apartment any longer than was absolutely necessary. Even if it meant taking a job and finding a flat of their own.

She leant forward to examine the shadows beneath her eyes. She was not sleeping well, and it was beginning to show. She pressed her lips together impatiently. What did it matter? There was no one to care how she looked here, of that she had few doubts. Lucy was accepting her because of Emma, and Robert …

A sliver of apprehension caused an involuntary shudder. She would not think of the past. She would think only of the present. And to hell with the rest.

She rose from the dressing-table stool and smoothed the skirt of the one and only evening dress she had carried with her, a slim-fitting gown of dark blue crepe jersey, that brushed her ankles and accentuated her excessive fairness and slenderness of figure. Her hair she wore as she always wore it, straight as a silver curtain about her shoulders.

When she was satisfied that there was no improvement she could make she emerged from her room and walked slowly along the panelled hall to the double doors of the lounge. A faint odour of continental coffee pervaded the air, and she sniffed appreciatively. She was not hungry, she had eaten little of Halbird’s spread at teatime, but she did enjoy good coffee.

Lamps illuminated the lounge, giving a curiously intimate atmosphere to a room that could never be described as such. And yet it was warm and comfortable, and deserted at the moment.

Julie closed the doors behind her and walked across to the plate glass windows. Venetian blinds had been let down and through them she could see the panorama of the city glittering with a myriad lights below her. And yet for all that they were in the heart of the city, it was silent up here, silent and isolated, and remote like the cabin of an airliner. One could not fail to get an inflated feeling of one’s own importance living here, thought Julie ruefully.

She was startled into awareness by the closing of the door and swinging round to face Robert Pemberton she paused to wonder how long he had been standing there, watching her. He was not wearing a dinner jacket but had shed the informal suede for a charcoal grey lounge suite that fitted his lean body closely, accentuating the length of his legs and the hard muscles beneath the rippling material. From the dampness of his hair, she guessed he had recently stepped out of the shower.

His gaze flickered over her for a moment, taking in the fragility of her appearance, and then with a casual movement of his shoulders he walked across to where an opened cabinet displayed an assortment of bottles.

‘What will you drink?’ he inquired, turning his back on her and uncorking the whisky bottle, scooping ice out of its container, chinking it into a glass.

Julie took a deep breath. ‘Gin and tonic, please,’ she replied, taking care that her voice should reveal none of her thoughts.

Robert made the drink and turning walked across to hand it to her. As he did so Julie caught his gaze, and taking the initiative, she said: ‘Are you going to tell me now why we’ve been brought here?’

Robert hesitated, rubbing his palms together where the condensation on the chilled glass had dampened them. ‘Does it matter?’ he asked briefly. ‘I can assure you my motives were purely unselfish ones.’

‘What sam I supposed to gather from that remark?’

‘What I say. My mother is incapable of accommodating you. Naturally as Michael’s widow you are welcome here.’

‘You don’t sound very welcoming.’ Julie sipped her drink to hide her nervousness.

‘Don’t I?’ Robert made an indifferent gesture. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’re not sorry at all!’ Julie burst out, and then regretted it. Taking another trembling breath, she hastened on: ‘What I can’t understand is why your mother should have written and offered Emma and me a home now that – now that she’s alone, and not really mean it.’

‘Would you have come if you’d known it was I who was offering you a home?’ inquired Robert coldly.

Julie pressed her lips together. ‘Of course not.’

‘There you are, then.’ Robert turned away to get his own drink and Julie gave a helpless gasp.

‘You mean I was brought here under false pretences?’

‘Stop being dramatic, Julie. It was necessary that you should be brought back here. This was the only way.’

Julie was indignant. ‘But why was it necessary? I – your mother never wanted me when – when Michael was alive. Why should she want me now that Michael is dead?’

Robert swallowed half his whisky at a gulp and then looked at her again. ‘My mother is changing for dinner. We don’t have much time. I want you to tell me what happened – before she comes back.’

‘About Michael’s death, you mean?’

‘Naturally.’

Julie bent her head. ‘Why naturally? You haven’t shown much interest up until now.’

Robert uttered an expletive. ‘I don’t want to waste time arguing with you, Julie. Just tell me the facts. I could hardly discuss this in front of Emma, could I? And my mother’s too emotional about it for us to have a coherent conversation in front of her.’

Julie looked up indignantly. ‘And I’m not emotional, of course. He – he was my husband, that’s all!’

Robert reached for a cigar from a box on a low table, lighting it with suppressed violence. She could see it in the hardening of his facial muscles, in the grim way his teeth held the cigar, in the impatient flick of the table lighter.

‘What do you want me to say, Julie?’ he asked, straightening. ‘Do you want to hear platitudes from me? I think not. We’d both know they were not sincere. But I did love my brother, whatever you may think, and I want to know about his death. Now – will you tell me?’

Julie turned her back on him. She couldn’t bear to look at him while she spoke about something that was still painful to her.

‘You – you had the doctor’s reports,’ she said tightly. ‘You didn’t come to see him.’

‘No. A fact I bitterly regret.’ His voice was harsh.

‘Do you?’ Julie sounded sceptical, but she didn’t pursue it. ‘Well, I don’t know what more you want to hear. I didn’t know about the first attack, if that’s of any interest to you. Michael forced the doctor to keep the truth to himself. I thought he was overworked, tired. I never suspected the heat was affecting his heart. He had put on weight, of course. He drank quite a lot, but then so did everybody. In any event, I don’t believe Michael took it really seriously himself. But when the second attack came, so soon after the first, he hadn’t the strength to fight it …’ She broke off, fighting back the emotionalism that threatened to overwhelm her. Michael had been such a young man, a good man; he had not deserved to die.

‘I see.’ She heard Robert move and pour himself another drink. ‘Was he in much pain, before he died, I mean?’

Julie shook her head. ‘Oh, no. The drugs they prescribed kept him more or less comatose. Sometimes he didn’t even recognize me. But I think he guessed it was hopeless.’

‘You should have sent for me.’ Robert’s voice was abrupt. ‘You knew I would have come if I had known – if I had guessed—’

Julie looked unseeingly through the slats of the venetian blind. ‘He wouldn’t allow me to send for anybody. I don’t know why. But I couldn’t go against his wishes.’

Robert walked across the width of the lounge to her side. She hadn’t looked round, but she was conscious of him with every fibre of her being. ‘I would have come to the funeral,’ he said shortly. ‘But I was out of the country when your cable arrived. And naturally the burial took place so much more quickly than it would have done here.’

‘Yes.’ Julie finished her drink and moved away from the window. Away from him. ‘Is that all?’

Robert swung round, his expression hardening at the resignation in her voice. ‘Are you so indifferent?’ he muttered.

‘Indifferent!’ Julie put a hand to her throat defensively. ‘My God! You think I’m indifferent?’

‘Well, aren’t you? I can’t see any tears in those limpid green eyes!’

Julie found it difficult to breathe suddenly. ‘That’s a foul thing to say!’

‘Why? Am I mistaken? Are you really the bereft widow?’

Julie stared at him for a long moment, anger strengthening her weakening resolve. ‘How dare you speak to me like that!’ she demanded fiercely. ‘I didn’t ask to come here! I didn’t ask to be patronized by the powerful Pemberton family! I want nothing from any of you – you, least of all!’

Robert’s face paled slightly under his tan and she realized that for once she had succeeded in really getting under his skin. ‘That’s right, Julie,’ he snarled. ‘Show your true colours! Show what a selfish coarse little bitch you really are!’

Julie took a step forward. She wanted to slap that sneering violence from his face once and for all. But even as she moved the door opened to admit Lucy Pemberton.

Lucy was wearing a long black gown of heavy silk, several strings of pearls about her still youthful throat. For all she was almost sixty, life had aged her little, and looking at her now Julie found it hard to believe that she had not been well enough to come to the airport to meet them.

But it was no use harbouring grudges. In a few days, a week at the most, she would find somewhere for herself and Emma to live, and then she would be free of the Pemberton family for good.

‘Hello,’ said Lucy, when she saw them both. ‘You’re still here, Robert?’ Was that a note of reproof in her voice? ‘I thought your appointment was for seven-thirty. It’s gone that already, you know.’

Robert stubbed out the cigar he had been smoking and dropped it carelessly into the ashtray. ‘There’s no hurry, Mother,’ he remarked, in complete control of himself again.

‘I’m not sure Pamela would agree with you, darling.’ There was definitely a note of reproof now, and a brief dismissing glance in Julie’s direction. ‘You must meet Pamela, Julie. Pamela Hillingdon. You may have heard of the family. She and Robert are getting married in the spring.’

Julie managed to appear unmoved by this news. ‘Really,’ she said evenly. ‘But I doubt whether I’ll ever have that opportunity. She and I no doubt move in different circles.’

Robert had been reaching for the handle of the door, but at her words he turned abruptly to face her, his eyes narrowing. ‘I don’t understand what you mean, Julie,’ he stated flatly, and his mother drew her brows together in delicate bewilderment.

‘You’re not going to be difficult, Julie, I hope,’ she exclaimed, and received a quelling glance from her son which Julie found hard to comprehend.

‘Well?’ Robert demanded. ‘Exactly what are you saying, Julie?’

Julie felt her cheeks colouring in spite of her determination to stay cool. ‘Surely it’s obvious,’ she stated steadily. ‘I – well – Emma and I can’t live here. Within the next few days, I intend to look around for a job and somewhere for Emma and myself to live—’

‘What?’ Lucy put a trembling hand to her temples and sank down weakly into the nearest chair. ‘Oh, Julie, you can’t be serious!’

‘It doesn’t matter whether she is or otherwise,’ snapped Robert obliquely. ‘She hasn’t yet been informed of the facts of the case.’

‘What facts?’ Julie pressed her palms together apprehensively.

Lucy looked up at her son. ‘You didn’t tell her?’

‘I didn’t get the chance.’ Robert raked a hand through the thick darkness of his hair. When he was disturbed as he was now it was painfully easy to remember the last confrontation she had had with him, and Julie bent her head to avoid the cold brilliance of those grey eyes.

‘Will you please tell me what I’m supposed to be told?’ Julie wondered how long her legs would continue to support her. ‘Is there some reason why I should not be permitted to do as I like?’ She looked up suddenly, her eyes guarded. ‘Because if there is, I shall fight it.’

‘Oh, Julie, please.’ Lucy fanned herself with one hand. ‘Don’t be difficult! We only want to do what’s best for – for you, and for Emma.’

Robert flicked back his cuff and glanced at the broad gold watch on his wrist and Julie stiffened. ‘Don’t let me keep you from your appointment,’ she exclaimed. ‘Just say what you have to say and go!’

Robert’s eyes glittered. She knew that had they been alone there would have been things said which they might both have regretted later, although she doubted that Robert ever did anything he might regret.

‘Michael left a will,’ he said at last.

‘I know that. He left his shares in the company to the family. So what? I don’t need anything—’

‘Don’t talk rubbish!’ Robert lost control for a moment and turning away he poured himself another drink, swallowing half of it while his mother clicked her tongue irritably.

‘Can’t we all keep our tempers?’ she asked, through tight lips.

Robert turned back, the glass in his hand. ‘Very well, I’ll try and be brief. Michael left his shares in the company to the family to be kept in trust for Emma until she’s twenty-one. Until then, she is left in my guardianship.’

‘No!’ The word was torn incredulously from Julie’s lips.

‘Yes,’ said Robert inflexibly. ‘And I shouldn’t advise you to fight that!’

Julie out put a hand, catching the back of a chair to support herself. She couldn’t believe her ears. Michael couldn’t have made such a will. Not knowing … not knowing …