Across the Counter (5 page)

Apparently it did not matter at all. Because she went on sitting there for some time undisturbed. Then to her secret irritation someone came to a halt beside her table. She refused to look up, telling herself that if she took no notice he would go away.

But he did not go away and after a moment an oddly familiar voice said, “What’s the matter, Miss Renner? Are you ill?”

And to her astonishment and confusion, Paul Kendale sat down opposite her on the other side of the table.

CHAPTER THREE

If Katherine
had been less taken aback she might have produced the standard excuse that she had a headache. But the sight of Paul Kendale sitting opposite her completely froze her powers of invention and for a moment she just stared at him without saying anything.

Then because one had to find some sort of
words, she asked in a slightly husky little voice. “Why aren’t you at the party?”

“What party?”

“To celebrate your sister’s engagement to
...
to Malcolm. Malcolm Fordham,” she added in a belated attempt to appear on suitably distant terms with him. But this was defeated by the shaming fact that uncontrollable tears came into her eyes at the mention of the party, and though she blinked them back she thought he had noticed.

“I didn’t want to go,” was his simple reply. “And anyway I was busy elsewhere. Come to that, why aren’t
you
there if you know about it? You’re a friend of his, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t want to go, either,” replied Katherine, without conviction.

“Sure?”

“How do you mean—sure?”

“I thought there was an undecided note in your voice,” he said lightly, and she was immediately reduced to silence.

He got up then—but not to go away, it seemed. He said, “I’ll get you another cup of coffee. That looks pretty cold and cheerless. Have you had anything to eat?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t want anything,” she declared, but again without much conviction.

“
When did you have your last meal?”

It was not really his business, of course. But it was difficult not to answer his abrupt questions.

“
I
suppose
...
at lunchtime. And I did have a cup of tea later—at the Grand.” She winced suddenly at the remembrance.

“
Alone?” he asked unexpectedly.

“N-no,” she was startled into saying.

“I see.” She wondered what he did see. But before she could think of any way of asking he went on,
“
Well, you don’t seem to have been overeating. You must be starving by now. What will you have?”

“I’m not hungry.
I
don’t w-want anything,” she repeated.

“Nonsense,” he said, and went away to the counter with an air of being able to decide for her.

Left alone, she absently took out her mirror and compact and did a few running repairs, noticing disgustedly as she did so that she looked dreadfully pale and that there were Slight shadows under her eyes. If he pressed his inquiries further, it would not be difficult to plead the conventional headache.

When he came back with two cups of coffee and some appetizing-looking toasted sandwiches, she managed to smile more normally and say, “It’s very kind of you.
I
feel I’m rather imposing on you.”

“Not at all. I didn’t have to stop and inquire unless I wanted to.”

“No, that’s true. Why did you?” she asked with a curiosity she c
o
uld not quite suppress.

“I don’t know,” he replied frankly. “Except—” he frowned thoughtfully “—
I
had a queer feeling that
I
knew what was wrong.”

“You couldn’t!” She looked at him with startled eyes.

“Do you want me to guess?” He smiled at her dryly but not unkindly.

“No! At least—” Again curiosity got the better of her, “Well what did you think was the matter?”

“I supposed Malcolm Fordham ditched you in favor of my sister.” He spoke in such a matter-of-fact tone that she almost thought he must be reading her thoughts aloud.

There was quite a long silence. Then she said in a low voice, “How did you know? How
could
you know?
I
didn’t know myself until a few hours ago.”

“When
I
told you about the engagement back there in my office, wasn’t it?” he agreed. “That was when
I
first suspected something was wrong. You looked as though I’d hit you between the eyes when I told you about Geraldine and Malcolm Fordham.”

“Did I? I thought
I ...
hid it better.”

“You were pretty gallant about it,” he assured her. “But
I
suppose few of us could take a blow like that and continue to look unmoved. Were you engaged to him?”

“Not
...
officially.”

“Oh—” he made an impatient gesture “—these engagements that never have a clear definition and are always going wrong
!”

He should talk,
she thought indignantly, recalling what Malcolm had said, and she was very much tempted to ask, at that moment, what his own relationship to Aileen Lester might be. But as it could not by any stretch of imagination be considered to be her business, she refrained. Besides, her own affairs were sufficiently demanding.

“I don’t want you to think that Malcolm behaved
...
well, too badly,” she explained anxiously. Because after all it was not for her to make ill feeling among Malcolm’s future in-laws.

“No?” He looked skeptical.

“It was just
...
one of those things.”

“Is that his version of it?”

“Partly. But partly my interpretation of it, too. After all, people do get engaged to the wrong girl—or man. What is one to
do
if the right one comes along later?”

“Are you asking me personally or is this purely rhetorical?”

“Oh—” she smiled faintly “—I don’t think I was actually seeking your views.
I
was trying to
...
to—”

“Whitewash Malcolm?” he suggested dryly.

“No. Not really. I’ve been trying for hours to see his point and to accept a difficult situation.
I
do see that he just couldn’t help falling for your sister. And once he’d done so, I would rather be told frankly and have a clean break. He didn’t pretend that I’d overestimated our
...
our relationship or anything like that—”

“Big
of him.”

“Well, some men would, you know. It would have been fairly easy to imply that I’d assumed too much and leave me feeling humiliated as well as everything else. Instead he told me he considered we had been engaged even though it hadn’t reached the ring stage—
I
don’t know why I’m telling you all this!”

“Probably because you have to tell someone. And it’s less embarrassing to tell a virtual
stranger than a close friend.”

“Perhaps you’re right. Anyway, I believe Malcolm when he says he made a genuine mistake about
...
about me. Then when he met your sister he just
...
knew. I don’t know what else he could have done other than tell me the truth.”

“He might perhaps have made it clear from the beginning that he was an engaged man. Geraldine is not the kind to poach on another girl’s preserves.”

“I don’t think it would have made any difference in the end. It doesn’t, you know, when
...
when this sort of thing hits you hard.”

“No? Well, perhaps you’re right. Now eat your sandwich.”

She found herself obeying him immediately and discovering in the process that she was exceedingly hungry. It seemed faintly gross to find food so good when one’s heart was broken. But so it was. And apparently he understood, because without comment he fetched her another sandwich and watched her with some satisfaction while she ate it.

“Feeling better?” he inquired with a slight smile.

“Yes, thank you. You’re being most awfully kind. Especially—” she also smiled, a brilliant smile that lighted her whole face “—especially to an interloper.”

“An interloper?”

“Yes. Don’t you remember? You consider all of us from Bremmisons as interlopers, and more or less dislike us on sight.”

“
I
didn’t add that last bit,” he told her amusedly. “You made that up.”

“Based on the way you looked when you spoke of us,” she assured him.

“No—did I really look so unpleasant?”

“Not
unpleasant
!” She looked slightly shocked, which seemed to amuse him still further. “Just rather fed up. And it’s quite all right—I do understand. It’s a rotten position for you.”

“I remember—you said you were more or less a local girl and therefore appreciated the situation better than your London colleagues.”

“Yes, that’s true. My family lives quite near here.”

“Then I think I’d better take you home to your mother now,” he observed looking at his watch.

“Oh—” she laughed, oddly touched by his way of putting things “—I didn’t mean that they live actually in Morringham. More like twenty miles away. I nearly decided to go there this evening, but then I thought—” the laughter died out of her face and she sighed “—I thought I’d wait until I was in a better mood and more able to
...
to c
ope with questions and comment.”

“Do they know about your engagement?”

“No. So they needn’t know about
...
the other, either.”

“Then no one here knows about it?”

“Except you,” she said.

“Well, yes—except me.” He seemed a little surprised himself to find he was the exception.

“And please—” she looked at him anxiously “—you won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“Of course not!”

“I mean
...
you won’t think it necessary to tell your sister anything about Malcolm’s previous
...
previous—”

“Activities? Certainly not. What he tells her or does, not tell her is entirely his affair.”

“Thank you. And thank you also for being so kind to me this evening. I’m afraid I’ve taken up a lot of your time, but I won’t keep you anymore.”

She stood up and he rose, too, and asked, “Where are you staying?”

“At a small place called the Bellevue.”

“I know it. I’ll take you there.”

“Really, Mr. Kendale,” she said earnestly, “you don’t have to. I can perfectly easily—”

“I never do things because I feel I have to, Miss Renner,” he assured her with that dry little smile. “I have my car outside. Will you come?”

So she came. And without doubt it
was
some faint comfort to both one’s feelings and one’s pride to arrive back at the hotel in a handsome car, driven by a handsome man, when one had left it in such solitary despair and humiliation.

Katherine thanked him again as she said good-night. And then on an impulse she could neither explain nor control she leaned forward and spoke to him again through the open window of the car.

“Mr. Kendale, may I ask you something rather personal?”

“If you want to very much.”

“Are you going on now to the
...
the engagement party?”

“Yes,
I
am.”

“Then I’ve really been keeping you away from it all this time! How on earth are you going to explain your coming so late?”

“I shall say that I unexpectedly had to attend to something I considered important,” he said gravely. “And
I shall be telling the exact truth.”

Then with a slight smile he raised his hand to her in a little gesture of farewell and drove away.

She was smiling a little as she went into the hotel, and even her small bedroom looked a shade less dreary when she returned to it. Paul Kendale had certainly made her feel faintly less alone in an alien place, and grateful and comforted to some degree she actually managed to sleep fairly well that night.

But waking
to a chilly, sunless day was another matter. Especially when the fresh realization of her loss flooded back upon her.

It will be like this for days and weeks,
she thought dismayedly.
And I shall have to learn to live with it. Other people do.

But other people’s troubles, and the way they meet them, never seem to have much relation to one’s own. And Katherine’s spirits were at a very low ebb indeed as she set off for Kendales fortified by what the management of the Bellevue called “a good substantial breakfast.”

On arrival she went straight to the Blouses and Skirts Department where she found Aileen Lester regaling two of the junior assistants with an account of the previous evening’s party.

The group broke up as soon as Katherine appeared, and the two juniors scurried off on their own affairs. But Aileen Lester held her ground and gave that condescending little smile to which she had treated Katherine the night before.