Memories of You (44 page)

‘So what are we going to do?'

‘You're asking me?'

‘I mentioned that I thought you'd hoped to profit one way or another.'

Perry looked at him questioningly.

‘And I'm surprised you didn't try the other way first. That is, come to me and suggest that you could be bought off.'

‘There wasn't time.'

‘Ah, I'm glad you've decided to be honest. But why do you say that?'

‘You didn't even know that Elise and I were seeing each other.'

‘No, by God, if we had we'd have put a stop to it.'

‘Exactly. She's only sixteen and you could have sent her off to finishing school in Switzerland or France. I would have had to pursue her and convince you that I was a serious threat. That might have taken months – years even, and I needed the money as soon as possible.'

‘So you set out to make a young girl fall in love with you and took her away from her parents in order to pay off your gambling debts.' Hugh raised his hand. ‘No, that wasn't a question, Mr Wallace, that is the truth of the situation, and now that we are being completely honest with each other you had better tell me how much you need.'

Perry's eyes widened. ‘You're going to help me?'

‘Yes, but there are conditions.'

‘I expect there will be.'

Hugh nodded. ‘One way or another you have to remove yourself from my daughter's life. If you remained married I would not trust you to treat her well. You are a reckless gambler. You would return to your ways. Once she has her money you would spend it all and leave her penniless and then, who knows? You might desert her in order to find another rich woman. No, Mr Wallace, you have to go.'

‘Leave her?'

‘Yes.'

‘When?'

‘As soon as possible. Today, in fact.'

‘Today? But what shall I tell her?'

‘Leave that to me. Once you walk out of this door you are never going to see her again.'

‘But what am I to do?'

‘I will give you enough money to settle your debts and also disappear. I'll make you a small annual allowance. Go abroad. Find a job. That would be a novel experience for you. But wherever you go you must never get in touch with Elise again. If you do the allowance stops, as it will if you get married again.'

‘Married again? But—'

‘After three years Elise will be able to divorce you for desertion. My legal team will handle that. So now that we understand each other it's time for you to go.' Hugh Partington slid a piece of paper across the table towards him. ‘Take this.' Perry took it, saw that it was a bank draft and his eyes widened. ‘What's the matter?' Hugh asked.

‘You have been very generous.'

‘If we never see or hear from you again it's worth every penny. You will receive instructions about your allowance during the next few days, but after you settle your debts I want you out of London as soon as possible.'

‘Elise . . . if she comes back to the apartment . . . ?'

‘She won't. Not if you write what I dictate to you.'

Hugh pushed a clean sheet of paper across the table and handed Perry his own fountain pen. When Perry had finished writing the two men parted without another word.

 

Elise looked up anxiously when her father came into his office. She had made herself comfortable in a deep leather armchair and Hugh's secretary had provided her with coffee and magazines.

‘You've been ages!' she said.

Hugh sighed and went to sit behind his desk.

‘Where's Perry?' she asked. ‘Have you had a good talk? Is everything settled?'

‘Everything's settled.'

‘Oh, good.' Elise suddenly became aware of the distance between them and, letting the magazine she had been reading slide to the floor, she rose and took a step towards him. ‘Daddy . . .' she said.

‘No, sit down, Elise. We have to talk.'

‘And Perry?'

‘Later. Sit down.'

She looked at his solemn expression with dismay. ‘Are you very angry with me?' she asked.

‘Yes, I'm angry.'

‘And Mother? Is she angry, too?'

‘What do you expect?'

Elise felt hot tears begin to gather and she blinked to try to stop them. ‘Daddy, I'm so sorry. So very sorry, but I love Perry and he loves me. We just had to be together.'

‘Even if it meant hurting those who loved you?'

Elise brushed the tears away from her cheeks with nervous fingers and hurried on, ‘Oh, I know what a shock it must have been for you, and I'm really, really sorry for the upset I've caused, but now that it's done I hope you'll find it in your hearts to forgive me. I love Perry so much and he loves me and he makes me so happy.'

‘Elise, stop this! You stupid, stupid little girl. You have no idea what you're talking about!'

Elise was shocked by the force of her father's anger. ‘What do you mean?' she asked. ‘Are you saying that I'm too young to know what it means to be in love?'

‘For God's sake, stop this babbling about love. Perry didn't marry you because he loves you. He married you because he needed money. Perry Wallace is an old-fashioned fortune hunter and I don't suppose for one moment that he even knows what love means.'

‘That's not true! He's . . . he's wonderful. The things he says . . . the things he does.'

Her father's face darkened. ‘You little fool. What you're saying is that he seduced you and I'm ashamed of you, do you hear that? Ashamed!'

Elise began to cry in earnest and her father made no attempt to comfort her. After a while when the sobs subsided he got up and came over to hand her a clean white handkerchief.

‘Dry your eyes,' he said, ‘and keep the handkerchief. You'll need it when I tell you how much Perry Wallace loves you.'

 

At first she didn't believe him.

‘You're only saying these things,' she said. ‘It's some kind of trick to make me leave Perry.'

It gave Hugh no pleasure to assure her that what he had told her was true. ‘You'd better read this,' he said.

The note was brief to the point of brutality. In it Perry told her that anything her father said about him was true and that it would be best if they parted immediately. She must not come back to the apartment but do whatever her father told her to do.

As Hugh expected there was another storm of weeping and he waited patiently for it to stop. He wanted desperately to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he resisted the temptation, because if he did he didn't know how he would have the strength to carry out the next part of his plan.

‘So what am I to do?' Elise said at last. ‘Am I to come home with you now?'

‘No, Elise. You're not coming home. You betrayed our trust and your mother doesn't think that the bridges can be mended.'

‘And you? What do you think?'

‘I think the same.'

‘But where am I to go?' There was a note of panic in her voice.

Hugh picked up the internal phone and spoke to his secretary. A moment later the door opened and Miss Phillips ushered Helen Norton into the room. Hugh answered Elise's question.

‘You must talk it over with your sister.'

Margery Sutton and Dr Salkeld came with Helen to the funeral. The day was cold and damp and the church unheated. As soon as the service was over Dr Salkeld excused himself, saying he had to make some house calls. This meant that Helen and Margery were the only people, apart from the gravediggers, who saw Jane Roberts being lowered into her last resting place.

The vicar blew his nose and intoned his prayers. He smiled sympathetically at Helen when she took the trowel and threw the required clod of earth down into the grave to land with a dismal thud on her aunt's coffin.

‘Come along, Helen,' Margery Sutton said. ‘There's no need to stay longer. Let's get home and have a hot cup of tea.'

‘You go and wait in the car,' Helen said. ‘I have something else to do.'

Jane Roberts' housekeeper guessed what Helen meant and she squeezed Helen's arm before making her way along the sodden paths that led back to the entrance to the churchyard. Helen returned to the church porch where she had left a small bouquet of lily of the valley.

A short while later Helen, who had been dry-eyed throughout the funeral service, was weeping as if her heart would break as she stared down at her mother's grave. She stooped to clear a tumble of dead leaves which were obscuring the memorial stone and placed the flowers, which had been her mother's favourites, on the untidy grassy mound.

I've neglected you, she thought. But what could I do? I cannot come to your grave every week as some bereaved do.

‘Don't think of her lying there in the cold earth.' Helen had not heard his footsteps and she turned, startled, to find the vicar standing behind her. ‘Your mother is in heaven and even more important she lives on in your heart. Now say your prayers and go in peace.'

 

Margery had made sandwiches and baked cakes in case Dr Salkeld had been able to come back with them, and now they looked at the laden table in the dining room with amused dismay.

‘Dr Salkeld said he would try to call in and see you before evening surgery,' Margery told Helen. ‘This won't be wasted.'

‘Even so, I think you have overestimated the amount the good doctor can eat,' Helen said.

‘Not at all,' Margery replied. ‘When he visited your aunt he would sometimes stay for a bite to eat and a gossip. I think he's lonely. Now why don't you go and sit by the fire in the front parlour? I'll make up a tray.'

‘No, why don't we sit in the kitchen?' Helen replied. ‘It's warm and cosy in there – and more convenient.'

She could have added that the last place she wanted to sit was in the room she most associated with her aunt. In all the time Helen had lived in this house she had only known her aunt to visit the kitchen a handful of times. The room was like neutral ground.

Helen and Margery Sutton had much to discuss. Jane Roberts had left Helen the house as she had said she would, but Helen knew she would never want to live in it. She would put it up for sale and Margery had agreed to stay on and oversee everything.

‘What about the contents?' Margery asked.

‘If the people who buy the house don't want them, send them off to the salerooms.'

‘Is there nothing you want to keep?'

‘No. I mean yes. There is something. I don't know if it's still here but there was a picture – very sentimental – two cherubs and a garland.'

‘It's in the front bedroom.'

‘Well, I know it's not important or valuable, but when I first saw it I thought it was the only object in the house that my mother would have liked. Somehow that was comforting.'

‘I'll parcel it up for you. It should be small enough to go in your case.'

‘Thank you. When this is all over what are you going to do?'

Margery looked thoughtful. ‘When I told Dorothy that Mrs Roberts had died she wrote immediately and asked if I would go and live with them in Singapore.'

‘But that's wonderful,' Helen said.

‘No, it isn't. I told you years ago that I doubted if I would settle there. As far as I can tell from Dorothy's letters, it's a very different way of life. Dorothy loves it but I don't think I would. And besides, what will happen if there is a war? It's looking more and more likely, isn't it?'