Memories of You (36 page)

‘You mean you bought up my debts?'

‘That's right. So now you owe the money to me. And nobody ever welshes on me, I can assure you.'

‘Who are you?'

For an answer the man grabbed Perry's arm, took the cigar out of his mouth and stabbed it on the back of Perry's hand. ‘No need for you to know names.'

‘Christ almighty,' Perry screamed. Tears of pain stung his eyes. ‘That will leave a scar.'

‘Don't complain. You're lucky I didn't burn your pretty face. How would you have explained that to Miss Partington?'

Perry's insides turned to water. ‘She has nothing to do with this. You . . . you wouldn't hurt her, would you?'

‘Not if I don't have to. By the time the scar on your hand fades I hope you will have settled your debts and then we'll all be happy. Now get out,' the man said. ‘I know your situation but I also know that you have a chance to get your hands on some of the Partington fortune. Good luck to you. I'll be sending someone along to collect.'

The driver opened the door, dragged Perry unceremoniously out of the car and shoved him violently down to the ground. Perry heard the car door slam. As he hauled himself to his feet it sped away. He had twisted his ankle when he'd fallen and jarred his wrists when he'd attempted to save himself. The back of his hand was throbbing with pain.

There was no one else in sight. How long had it taken for his world to become a very frightening place indeed? While he was in the car time had seemed to become suspended.

In this state he couldn't face public transport and he didn't have enough money left for a taxi. He limped the weary miles back to his apartment, snivelling like the coward he knew himself to be. By the time he got home he had accepted that his only hope was to persuade Elise to elope with him as soon as possible.

However, the problem proved to be that although she loved the idea of being in love and had been thrilled when he playfully suggested that they should elope, she hadn't really taken him seriously. And that was why, even though he had promised himself that he would not, he had had to seduce her.

 

It was raining. Rain fell on the tracks as they hurried over the bridge and made their way to the platform where their train had just pulled in. There was no shelter here and the people disembarking looked gloomily up at the sky and unfurled their umbrellas. The few passengers waiting to get in turned up their coat collars or held newspapers over their heads.

Perry had waved away a porter and was carrying the luggage himself. Elise, feeling guilty because she had two suitcases whereas he only had a travelling bag, said, ‘Don't worry, I can tip the man,' but Perry had hurried on.

‘If there's a hue and cry the man might remember helping a handsome young couple and tell them where we were going,' he explained.

Once on the train he had somehow struggled along the narrow corridor until he found an empty carriage and then hurried inside, sliding the door closed after them.

‘I thought we'd be all right at this time of day,' he said. ‘People are coming in to town rather than heading for the country. I don't think we'll be disturbed.' He stowed the luggage in the overhead racks and then turned to look at her.

Seeing her rather pinched expression as she stared out of the rainstreaked window, he took her in his arms. ‘Isn't this exciting?' he said. ‘In years to come we'll have such stories to tell our children!'

Elise broke away and flung herself down on to the seat. He understood at once that he had said the wrong thing and he sat down beside her and took both her hands in his. They were cold. He rubbed them and then raised them to his lips and kissed them.

‘What is it, Elise?' he said. ‘You do love me, don't you?'

‘Oh yes! It's just . . . just that I wonder if you love me.'

‘How can you say that? Would we be here if I didn't?'

‘We might.'

‘I don't know what you mean.'

For a moment he wondered if she had seen through him, come to realize that he was no more than a fortune hunter. Glancing at the scar on his hand he felt sick with fear. But her next words surprised and reassured him.

‘I mean that you might feel that you have to marry me after we . . . after what we did.'

‘If that's what you truly believe then I'll never forgive myself. I love you, Elise. I intended to marry you one day whatever happened. The fact that we got carried away and that I could have made you—'

‘Pregnant.'

‘That we might have conceived a child has only brought our plans forward. Don't you see that?'

‘And you don't think I'm cheap?'

‘Not that again, Elise. I don't think you're cheap, my darling. We did what we did because we love each other.' Perry controlled a spurt of irritation. His child bride – his prize bride – was proving hard work. It seemed she needed constant reassurance. ‘Why don't you sit back and try to relax,' he said. ‘Look, I bought you this magazine when I got my paper. It's called
Potpourri
and it seems very amusing.'

Elise took the magazine and turned the pages listlessly. Perry opened his newspaper. After a slamming of doors and a whistle the train began to pull away from the station. The final stage of their journey had begun.

 

Elise did not want to disturb Perry. Men liked newspapers, she knew that. Her father, patient and kind though he was, never liked to be disturbed when he was reading his paper. She flicked through her magazine but found nothing to interest her. She thought
Potpourri
a strange name for it. As far as she was concerned a potpourri was a collection of dried flower petals, leaves, herbs and spices that was used to scent the air, and the only article in the magazine that was remotely connected with that was a piece about flower arranging.

She closed the magazine and looked out of the window. The wind had risen and the rain was slanting across the glass. The countryside sped by in a watery blur. She closed her eyes. She was tired and the rhythm of the wheels on the track along with the warmth rising from the pipes under the seat was making her drowsy. She was too overwrought to sleep but she allowed herself to fall into a dreamy, trancelike state while she relived the circumstances that had brought her here.

If it hadn't been raining that day, the day that had changed her life, she might not be here at all . . .

She couldn't even remember the name of the little café Perry took her to or exactly where it was.

‘You'll like it,' he'd told her. ‘It doesn't look much from outside but inside it's very cosy. I often pop in for a snack. And sometimes even for breakfast.'

‘Is it near to where you live?'

‘Not too far, and it opens very early in the morning. Some of the customers haven't been home to bed at all and they sit there in their evening clothes devouring bacon sandwiches washed down with strong sweet tea.'

Elise had been intrigued and she had gone along willingly. Then on the way it had started to rain. A gentle shower that became a torrential downpour. Thankfully they reached the café before she was completely soaked. Perry went ahead to open the door but turned straight round again and grabbed her arms.

‘We can't go in there,' he said.

‘Why ever not?'

‘There are some people I know – they'll recognize you. Word will get back to your parents.'

‘What are we going to do?'

‘We can't stand here in the doorway like this so we'll have to make a run for it.'

‘But where shall we go?'

‘My apartment isn't too far away. You're already shivering. Let's get you there and get you dry before you catch a chill.'

Before Elise could respond Perry took her hand and they ran through the rain, laughing like children until they reached the apartment block where he lived. Wind had blown rain across the tiled floor of the entrance hall and Elise almost fell as they skidded to a stop. Perry caught her and kept his arm around her as they waited for the lift.

‘All right?' he murmured as they rose creaking to the top floor.

‘I'm fine.'

She was out of breath and excited. She knew this to be a daring thing to do. To go to a man's apartment. To be there alone with him. The girls in the cheap romances that her school friends passed around the class nearly always had cause to regret being so reckless. Or so naïve.

The front door of the apartment opened into a tiny vestibule with dark oak panelling. Perry hurried them through into what turned out to be the living room. Brought up for most of her life in luxury she was surprised and dismayed at what she saw. The furniture was cheap and merely functional and to be honest the place looked none too clean. Perry must have seen her expression of dismayed surprise. He shut the door behind them and crossed to a table, gathered up some dirty dishes and disappeared into what must have been a scullery.

‘I have no housekeeper at the moment. It's so hard to get staff, isn't it?'

‘I have no idea.'

Elise had never had to think about the domestic situation at home. There were maids and menservants, a cook and a gardener and other people whose function she did not even know.

‘But you can't just stand here,' Perry told her. ‘I'll show you the bathroom. At least my towels are clean. You can get dried off and I'll find you something to wear.'

‘Something to wear?'

‘Of course. You can't keep those damp clothes on. We'll dry them by the fire and you can wear my dressing gown. How about that?'

Bemused, Elise allowed herself to be led to the bathroom. Perry left her there. She took off her outer layer of clothes, dried as much of herself as she could and towelled her hair. She sensed the door opening and peered out from under the edge of the towel to see that a hand had appeared. The hand was holding a dark blue silk dressing gown.

‘Take it,' Perry's voice said. ‘And pass out your damp clothes. I've lit the fire and put the kettle on. We'll be very cosy.'

And indeed when she returned to the living room it did not look so shabby. Perry had drawn the curtains and lit some lamps with pretty shades. The gas fire, its ancient elements popping and spluttering, gave the room a cosy glow. There was a clean cloth on the table, a teapot, milk jug and cups and a plate of bread and jam.

Perry smiled ruefully. ‘A bit like a nursery tea, I know,' he said, ‘but I don't keep much food here. Now let's sit down and enjoy our little feast.'

Elise remained where she was standing.

‘What is it?' Perry asked. ‘Why do you look so surprised?'

‘You . . . you've taken your clothes off. I mean you're wearing . . .'

Perry laughed as he spread his arms to show off the black silk robe he was wearing. ‘I was wet too, you know. You wouldn't have wanted me to get pneumonia, would you?'

‘No, of course not. It's just . . . just . . . Oh, I don't know.'

Elise tried to come to terms with and make sense of the strange situation she found herself in. She acknowledged that she was completely out of her depth. Her clothes were draped over a couple of chairs near the fire and steaming gently. Fleetingly she wondered what one of the heroines in the cheap romances would have done. Maybe the girl would have grabbed her dripping clothes, put them on and run out into the rain. Later, her virtue intact, she would catch pneumonia and die.

‘Why are you smiling?' Perry asked.

‘Oh, no reason.'

Elise had decided that she could at least wait until her clothes were dry enough to put on before leaving. And eating bread and jam was surely no threat to her virtue.

‘Well, I'm glad you're happy.' Perry poured the tea and added something to the cups from a silver flask. ‘Just a spot of something to warm us up and chase the chills away.'

Whatever it was in the flask it did more than chase the chills away. Elise let go of any lingering doubts and began to enjoy the simple meal of bread and jam as if it were a banquet. She had a second cup of tea into which Perry emptied what was left in his flask. She still had no idea why exactly everything had seemed so amusing, but Perry had been so funny and so sweet and it had seemed entirely natural for her to go through to the bedroom with him and lie in his arms.

At one point she had turned away from him and curled up drowsily. She had felt his hand stroking her shoulder. ‘How can I wake you up, my Sleeping Beauty?' he had whispered.

‘Why not try a kiss?' she replied. She had begun to laugh and for a moment she thought she could not stop, then Perry turned her to face him and kissed her. What happened next had been so wild, so exciting, that Elise had wanted it to go on and on. Never to stop.

When Perry had told her that her clothes were dry and he would get a taxi for her and she must go home she had pleaded with him to let her stay.

‘No, my sweet. When you get home you can tell your mother that you took shelter somewhere until the rain stopped. I'm sure that sounds reasonable.'

Reasonable or not, she couldn't help seeing that Perry looked anxious and she was touched. ‘Don't worry about me,' she said. ‘It will be all right.'

And it had been. It had been perfectly all right. Her mother had not even noticed that she was late home. Her feeling of exhilaration lasted until bedtime and it was only when she was lying alone in bed that the excitement began to dissipate. For no reason she could think of she began to cry. She thought of all those silly heroines in those novellas again and realized that she had indeed been one of the foolish virgins.

He'll think I'm cheap, she moaned to herself. He won't want to see me again. How could he possibly love a girl that gave up her virginity so easily?