Mine for a Day (11 page)

“Yes, that was Simon,” she replied quite calmly. “How quick you’ve been.”

“Quick? I haven’t started out yet. I only got as far as the bus stop, and I found I had no small change. That’s why I came back. Oh, I wish I’d come a minute sooner, and could have spoken to him! Why didn’t you hold on a moment or two longer?”

“He had already said good-bye and rung off. Besides—you can’t just try to explain away anything like—like Jeremy in a couple of minutes on the phone.”

Rosemary looked a little sulky.

“I’d like to have spoken to him, just the same. What did he say, when you told him about me?”

“We—I didn’t speak about you, Rosemary. I wanted to know how his mother was, of course. He had promised to ring up and tell me.” (That was true, wasn’t it? even if the implication was not quite true.)

“Oh—I see. How is she?”

“The operation is over, and so far she is doing pretty well.”

“I’m very glad. But why didn’t you speak about me, Leila? Why didn’t you take the opportunity of telling him I had—come back?”

“Because I didn’t think it was a very good opportunity,” Leila told her dryly. “You can’t explain those things on the phone, Rosemary. I’ve just told you so.”

“But when
do
you propose to explain?” Rosemary was irritated in her turn now.

“Tomorrow,” Leila said coolly. “I’m seeing him tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow! You’ve arranged to meet him tomorrow?” Rosemary was enchanted, and her face flushed suddenly and her eyes sparkled with the mischievous boldness of the plan that had come into her head. “Then I know what we’ll do! I’ll go instead of you.
That’s
the way to do it. He’ll be overwhelmed by the gorgeous surprise of seeing me again, and he’ll be so glad that he’ll forgive me right away. It’s a wonderful idea! It simplifies everything. I’ll just turn up instead of you.”

“You will do nothing of the sort,” Leila retorted coldly, and suddenly she knew that she was fighting desperately for her happiness, and that she didn’t m
i
nd in that moment what weapons she used to safeguard it. “You can’t go instead of me. I’m seeing him at his own home.”

“O-oh.” Rosemary was so completely deflated that Leila almost hated her victory. “Well, I suppose that does settle it,” Rosemary agreed discontentedly. “How sickening. Will you be staying the night?”

“Staying the night?”

“I mean, won’t his sister think it strange if you just drop in to see your supposed husband for an hour?”

Leila had the horrid sensation of having slipped badly on a tightrope.

“I’ll—manage some sort of explanation. She—she has accepted the fact that I have to be in London for a week or two. This is just—a flying visit.”

“Oh.”

For a moment, Leila thought Rosemary had detected that something was not quite right with all this, and she braced herself for further questions and growing incredulity. But neither came. Instead, she said:

“Well, you will explain everything very carefully, won’t you? And tell him I want to see him as soon as possible, Leila. I don’t want him to be in any doubt about that. Tell him I
must
see him.”

“Very well,” Leila said briefly. And then Rosemary collected some small change, and went off on her errand again.

When she was alone once more, Leila sat down and buried her face in her hands.

She was bitterly ashamed of what she had done, and yet she knew that, given the chance, she would have done the same thing again. Why
should
she surrender to Rosemary her wonderful, happy meeting with Simon?

“I
couldn’t
let her go,” Leila assured herself. “And I couldn’t possibly tell her why I wanted so desperately to go. I
had
to do what I did.”

But she was not really satisfied in her own mind and conscience, and next day, every time she thought of her meeting with Simon, she was divided between shame and joy.

Most of all, she hated the practical necessity of the small deceptions which the position had forced upon her. Rosemary was so concerned about what train she was to catch, when all the time she herself knew she had only to find her way to the Dorchester.

In the end, Leila had to leave the flat nearly two hours sooner than was necessary to keep her appointment with Simon. And, even then, Rosemary followed her to the door saying:

“Do
hurry
, Leila. You’ll miss your train.”

But at least it was something to be free of the necessity of inventing answers to Rosemary’s comments and questions during that last hour or so before she need meet Simon.

She was nervous and rather tired by the time five o’clock came, but the thought of seeing Simon would have sustained her through more than that. She hoped she would not have to wait for him, but, even if she did—

It was not necessary. He came to meet her the moment she passed through the swing door and into the big lounge.

“Leila!” He took both her hands, and smiled at her as though she were the pleasantest thing he had seen for many days. “Leila, it’s good news! I know it means a lot to you as well as to us, and that makes it even better. Mother is holding her own splendidly, and though of course we’re nowhere near out of the wood, we have more ground for hope than we dared to expect.”

“I’m—so glad.” Her voice caught in her throat, and came out as little more than a whisper. And he laughed, almost tenderly, and said:

“Come on, and let’s have some tea. Otherwise we shall be weeping on each other’s shoulders.”

She managed to smile then, and tried not to feel a fraud because part of the emotion which had touched him was due to the strain of the last few days as well as her genuine delight over the good news of his mother.

They found a nice secluded corner, and over tea he obviously settled down for a long and friendly talk. He gave her a rapid resume of the previous day, told her that he had even seen his mother for a few minutes that morning, and then said:

“Now tell me what you have been doing.”

This was the moment, of course, to start explaining tactfully about Rosemary. For a few seconds longer she prevaricated, and in that slight pause he added a casual question.

“You aren’t back at your office yet, are you?”

“No. Not yet.”

And in as casual a tone as possible she said: “I’m not going back, I’m afraid. They have had a big reorganization of staff, an
d
they are dispensing with some of their employees. I’m one of them.”

“Is that so?” He gave her a quick and penetrating glance, as he took his cup and saucer from her, but she was looking down, and he was evidently dissatisfied with what he saw.

“Look at me, Leila,” he said abruptly.

She glanced up, startled.

“Are you being sacked because of what Brogner found out when he was at our place?”

“N-no.”

“Of course you are. Why else should you be going? Firms don’t choose to dispense with valued employees at a moment’s notice.”

“It was a fortnight’s notice,” she corrected, with a faint smile. “And how do you know I was a valued employee?”

“They gave you six weeks’ leave of absence when your aunt wanted you, didn’t they?” he retorted shrewdly. “Concessions of that sort don’t happen to unsatisfactory employees.”

She was silent.

“Will you let me go and see Brogner for you?”

“Oh, no! Please not,” Leila said earnestly. “I don’t think I even want to go back now.”

“Because of what he thinks of you?”

“Well, it’s just one of those unfortunate things, Simon. Best let it go. I’m not afraid of being without a job. I’ll get one I like somewhere else, I am sure.”

“And that’s really what you want to do?”

“Yes.”

“Very well, then. Will you consider a post at our London office?”

Her heart rose in her throat.

“N-not if it’s created specially for me.”

He laughed.

“Don’t be silly. I shouldn’t be a successful business man if I did things that way,” he assured her. “There is a vacancy. You’d be working for me whenever I was in London—which will be pretty frequently in the
coming months. If you think you can stand that, the job is yours.”

She slowly stirred her tea. She wondered if people ever did feel really faint with sheer happiness. And if she could possibly answer him calmly and somehow hide the fact that she was nearly delirious with joy.

“I should love it,” she heard herself say, in a beautifully self-possessed and friendly voice. “When would you want me to start?”

“As soon as you can.”

“The day after tomorrow?”

“The day after tomorrow would be fine,” he agreed. “I shall be in the office myself that day, and we could work out just how we are going to arrange things.”

She couldn’t really believe it. She could not convince herself that she was going to work for Simon—see him almost daily, share business problems and business successes. It was the sort of thing one invented to please and cheer oneself, but it never, never really happened.

Only—this was happening.

He asked her in a business like way what her salary with Mr. Brogner had been. And when she told him he said that he would be willing to pay her the same.

She was glad he offered no fantastic increase on it. That proved that this job was being given to her in a perfectly proper manner—not just because she had been of service to him in his private affairs.

They discussed one or two details in a friendly, pleasant way, like two people who were very satisfied with the present state of affairs. They even fell silent from time to time—also in a friendly, pleasant way. And it was in one of these silences that Leila thought: “I ought to tell him about Rosemary now.”

But there was no urgency about the self-reminder any longer. It was just something which lay in the back of her consciousness. She would do something about it before she left him.

Meanwhile, the moment was hers. She had earned it, and she was going to enjoy it. Simon’s attention was entirely on her, and her future was linked with his.

She had never believed that people could completely forget the passage of time. Only when he glanced at his watch and exclaimed, “Good heavens! is that the time?” did she come back to any sense of reality or urgency.

“I must go, I’m afraid.” He summoned a hovering waiter and quickly paid the bill. “I shall only just make my train, and I’ve been promised another few minutes with Mother this evening. Can I drop you anywhere by taxi, Leila?”

“No—no, thank you.” She still clung to the inner conviction that she must keep him away from her flat at all costs. “You hurry on. I can pick up a bus outside which actually passes the end of my road.”

“You’re sure?” As they went to the door together, he almost put his arm round her, though she told herself that was simply because he was reaching past her to catch the door as it swung back towards them.

“Yes, of course. Please don’t risk losing your train.”

“All right.”

Outside, he smiled and wrung her hand before he stepped into the waiting taxi.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am about our Hew arrangement. I’m feeling genuinely grateful to old Brogner for handing me this opportunity on a silver plate.”

She laughed gaily.

“So am I. Good-bye, Simon. I’ll see you at the office, the day after tomorrow.” And she stood and waved to him as the taxi drove off.

Then she turned away, and thought almost dispassionately:

“I haven’t told him about Rosemary, after all.”

The flat was empty when she arrived. But a letter lay on the hall table, and on top of it a slip of paper, on which Rosemary had written:

I’ve gone to the pictures, as I don’t expect you’ll be in until late. I wonder what you’ll find inside this letter! Back to supper.—ROSEMARY.

Well—there it was. She had until supper-time to decide what she was going to say to her cousin.

Slowly Leila picked up the letter from the table. It was from Aunt Hester.

CHAPTER
VII
I

SINCE the disastrous telephone conversation with Aunt Hester, Leila had had no further communication with her. After all, what was there she could say?

Certainly, after Mrs. Morley and Frances had finally been told the truth, she had toyed with the idea of writing a full letter of explanation to her aunt and uncle. But the difficulty of steering a course between saying too little and saying too much had been so great that she had postponed the task.

With a certain feeling of reluctance, Leila picked up the letter and went into the sitting-room.

Aunt Hester’s writing was large, and it took her three pages to describe her feelings of anxiety and bewilderment over
th
e news which Leila had given her over the telephone. After that, however, she was at some pains to make it clear that she did not, on further consideration, wish to blame her niece unduly.