Paper Doll (6 page)

‘Miss Howard has been kindness itself.’

She threw him a scornful glance over her father’s head before she disappeared through the door.

He crossed to where Benjamin sat, took the man’s pulse, then gazed at him and said quietly, ‘Have you been running out of breath and experiencing pains in your chest and arms?’

‘Oh, now and again. It’s nothing much and goes away if I rest.’

‘Do your ankles swell?’

‘On occasion.’

‘How long has it been going on?’

‘A couple of years. I’m getting older, that’s all.’

‘We’re all getting older. That doesn’t mean the quality of our lives should be allowed to deteriorate without making some effort to stem the tide. I advise you to make an appointment with your doctor and request a full check-up. The least he can do is give you some pills to relieve the pain.’

He nodded. ‘I will, but don’t tell Julia.’

‘I won’t have to tell her if you carry on as you are. You’ll drop dead at her feet and that will certainly attract her attention.’

Benjamin smiled rather uncomfortably at him. ‘Your bedside manner is effective, but it leaves much to be desired.’

‘I don’t suffer fools gladly. If something isn’t working properly, then you should find out why and either make adjustments or repair it.’

Martin moved away as Julia came back in with her father’s coffee. He examined a photograph in a silver frame on the mantelpiece.

A smaller Julia in a smocked dress, her head a riot of tossed curls and a smile on her face, was seated between her father and a woman he only just remembered. Her mother. Julia resembled the woman a lot.

‘I was three when that was taken,’ she said, moving to his side.

‘You were a pretty child.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Now you’re a beautiful woman.’

‘When I said we should pretend to like each other for the sake of my father, I didn’t mean we should get too familiar.’

She was referring to the kiss, he thought. ‘What exactly do you expect from me, Miss Howard?’

‘To start with you could drop the formality. You’re not at the vicar’s tea party. We have an hour before dinner. Shall we open our Christmas gifts?’

He fetched the gift he’d brought for her, smiling a little as he handed her the beribboned box and saying, ‘I hope this is informal enough.’ The label read:
To Julia, because it reminded me of you. Martin
.

Removing the lid and a layer of tissue paper, she gazed down at the dancing girl. Tears touched her eyes. ‘It’s sweet, and you’ve made me feel mean, which is too bad of you. Thank you so much. Look, Daddy, isn’t this lovely? I have just the place for it on the mantelpiece.’

Martin enjoyed receiving the handsome attaché case, and the note she’d put on the card. He would indeed beware the Christmas pudding.

The dinner was perfect. Afterwards Benjamin fell asleep in his armchair while listening to a carol service on the wireless, the blue cashmere scarf Julia had given him for Christmas wrapped around his neck.

Martin helped her carry the dishes from the dining room back to the kitchen. She gazed at the remains of the turkey as she tied the apron around her waist once more. ‘Will you be kind and take some of this home with you, otherwise it will be wasted?’

‘I’ll be glad to help out. I enjoyed my dinner. Who taught you to cook?’

‘My mother did. She enjoyed planning dinner parties and cooking. So do I. Cut the remains of the bird in two. I’ll wrap it in that muslin cloth and place it in a paper bag ready for when you leave.’

‘Can I help you to wash up?’ he said, when she filled the sink with sudsy water.

‘You can dry up if you wouldn’t mind.’

He grinned. ‘Literally or figuratively?’

‘It would be too much to hope for the latter, I suppose.’

He laughed as he picked up a tea towel.

It wasn’t long before the kitchen was clean and tidy.

‘Would you like another drink?’ she offered.

‘I had enough wine at dinner. I think I’d prefer a cup of tea.’

‘So would I.’ She put the kettle on and readied the tea tray. ‘Can you manage a mince pie or a slice of cake . . . or both?’

‘Are they as dangerous as the Christmas pudding?’

She laughed. ‘That was disgustingly rude of me, wasn’t it? I made the pies and cake myself.’

‘Then I’ll have both.’

‘It will be at your own peril, then. Daddy said you’re taking the Morris to Hampshire for a run in a day or two.’

She made it sound as it he was going to exercise a dog. ‘I intend to sort out my accommodation before I start work.’

‘May I come with you? I can help, and I promise not to be a nuisance.’

He couldn’t really refuse her, since he’d be using her father’s car, so he nodded.

A smile lit up her face. ‘I’ll pack us a picnic basket.’

He sighed, then said, ‘It’s a working trip, not an outing.’

‘We still have to eat, don’t we?’

Martin had pictured a rustic ploughman’s lunch of Stilton cheese, pickles and a thick slab of crusty buttered bread washed down with a glass of ale, and eaten before a roaring fire in some country pub. ‘Yes, I suppose we do, but I do hope you’re not hankering after a deckchair on the sand at this time of year.’

‘I’m not quite as silly as you seem to imagine.’

‘Actually, I don’t imagine you are as you imagine I imagine you to be, especially silly.’

Laughter trickled from her and made him chuckle.

There came a knock on the door and she gazed at a dainty marquisite watch on her wrist with a faintly suspicious frown. ‘I wonder who that can be?’

‘If you open the door you’ll find out,’ he suggested with an abruptness which earned him a raised eyebrow as she left.

‘Oh, hello, Mr Miller,’ he heard her say. ‘Daddy’s sleeping his dinner off. Come into the kitchen and meet Martin Lee-Trafford, the new factory manager. He joined us for Christmas to help us eat the turkey.’

Formally introduced, the pair shook hands.

‘I was just going to make some tea. Will you stay, Mr Miller?’

‘No, I was just passing and I dropped in with a gift for you. I saw it in a jeweller’s window and thought it matched your eyes. The cigar case is for your father, of course.’

‘Oh, how nice of you, but you really shouldn’t have. And Daddy—’

‘Of course I should have.’ He placed the flat box in her hands and kissed her cheek. ‘Seasonal greetings, my dear. Irene tells me that you’ll be at her New Year party, so I’ll see you there, I expect. Lee-Trafford, I’m very pleased to meet you. No doubt we’ll bump into each other again before too long.’ He nodded, and was gone.

Julia opened the box and gasped. Nestled in a bed of cream satin was a delicate pearl and peridot necklace set in filigree gold. ‘Oh, how exquisite it is!’

She was a lady who had no scruples about accepting expensive gifts from older gentlemen, Martin thought, and he was just wondering what Latham Miller meant to her when she said with genuine regret, ‘It’s far too expensive, of course, and I must return it to him.’

‘Do you know Miller well?’

‘I haven’t had much to do with him in the past. Although he seems to know the same people as I do he’s a business acquaintance of my father, really. He’s awfully well off and people seem to like him.’

The kettle began to whistle and she made the tea.

‘Did I hear the kettle?’ her father called out, his voice fuddled with sleep.

She chuckled. ‘Don’t you always hear the kettle boil? You can smell a cup of tea brewing before I’ve made it . . . be patient, I’ll just be a moment.’

Martin carried the tea tray through for her and set it on a side table. A plate of mince pies and cake joined it.

Benjamin looked slightly embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry I dropped off to sleep, Lee-Trafford. It was damned rude of me.’

‘I often have a nap after lunch myself, especially at weekends. I’m given to understand that it does you good.’

‘And anyway, you looked so sweet that we didn’t have the heart to disturb you,’ Julia said with a smile. ‘Latham Miller dropped in with a gift, a cigar case for you and a necklace for me. The necklace will have to go back. I do wish he hadn’t put me in a position of having to return something.’

‘I’d say that the man was trying to impress you.’

‘Well, he won’t impress me that way.’

‘Would you like me to return it for you?’

‘I was hoping you’d offer to play the heavy father on my behalf. It comes in handy on occasion.’

‘Remind me of that the next time you tell me that you’re all grown-up.’

‘You know I am. I just want you to feel useful.’ She smiled and kissed him on the forehead. ‘Christmas cake or mince pie with your tea?’

‘Both.’

Martin enjoyed the by-play between father and daughter, which revealed the depth of the affection existing between them. He’d always enjoyed the time he’d spent with his own father, but had been away at boarding school for much of the year. As for his mother, she’d been a social butterfly – still was, he imagined. He’d arrived home at the end of one term to discover that she’d left. He’d never seen her again. She’d sent birthday cards to his school for a couple of years – then they’d stopped.

Later on he’d been given to understand that there had been a divorce, and his mother had married again and was living somewhere in North America.

‘I acted the gentleman,’ his father had muttered. ‘Less embarrassing all round if the chap takes the blame, since he can get away with much more of that nature. But the woman is no longer your mother, and you must have nothing more to do with her, Martin.’

Later still Martin had realized exactly what his father had meant by that, for he’d found the divorce papers, and the custody agreement that had signed him into his father’s care in return for grounds for the divorce. There had been no monetary settlement. She’d been given a clear choice between her lover and her husband and son.

When Martin arrived back at the small flat he temporarily occupied it was cold. He’d enjoyed Christmas Day, he thought, as he lit the gas fire. He set Julia’s card on the mantelpiece and gazed at it. Apart from a card from his lawyer – embossed in discreet gold copperplate on white card, and with a sprig of holly for colour – it was the only greeting he’d received.

He knew nobody else except for the former stretcher-bearer who’d been kind enough to give him a roof over his head for a short time.

Briefly, Martin wondered what his own mother was doing. If she knocked on his door he doubted if he’d know her after all this time.

He opened his new attaché case and removed packages containing a quarter of a turkey, half a Christmas cake and six mince pies. He placed them in the pantry. Add a few vegetables and that should keep him nicely fed for the next few days.

Julia was a good cook, and that had surprised him. Not that she was usefully occupied outside the home as far as he could see, so he supposed she needed something else to occupy her time besides shopping.

Beware the Christmas pudding!
He grinned. The woman also had a surprisingly earthy sense of humour, but at least she’d spared him from that, for there were no Christmas pudding leftovers to plague him, thank goodness – at least, not yet! They’d eaten it all between them.

He began to laugh.

J
ulia was out when Latham Miller was announced the day after Boxing Day.

‘My daughter has gone to Hampshire for the day,’ Benjamin said. ‘Come in. I was just about to have coffee. Put another cup on the tray, would you,’ he called out to the maid. ‘Take a seat, Latham. It happens that I wanted to see you anyway.’

‘Oh . . . have you decided to accept my offer?’

‘Certainly not; I’m not ready to call it quits. Besides, I have my new manager starting in the New Year. He already has a few ideas for drumming up some business.’

Latham chuckled, and his glance absorbed the room around him. It was comfortable rather than smart. The furniture was outdated and he wondered if the old man owned the place.

‘You have a nice apartment, and it’s in a good position. You should ask the landlord to modernize it.’

Benjamin didn’t bite. ‘My deceased wife furnished it, and I have no intention of changing a leg on the table.’

Latham doubted if Benjamin Howard owned the apartment outright. It would have been used as collateral for a loan. He ambled over to the mantelpiece and picked up a figurine that caught his eye.

‘Be careful with that, Latham. It was a Christmas gift from Lee-Trafford. Julia is very taken by it.’

He turned it over, examined the maker’s mark and grunted. ‘I know quality when I see it. I don’t mind paying through the nose for something exquisite, flawless and rare, but this is mass-produced by one of the lesser porcelain producers.’ It was a duty gift from Lee-Trafford, he thought, not the type of gift a man selected for a woman he was trying to impress.

‘Ah, yes . . . but it’s not the value of the gift that counts, it’s the thought behind it. And that brings me nicely to what I wanted to see you about.’ He indicated the jeweller’s box on the table. ‘There is no easy way of saying this. Julia would rather not accept such an expensive gift.’

The old man was a fool. Placing the figurine back on the mantelpiece Latham managed to find his smile. ‘Why not, when I can easily afford it?’

‘You know very well why not. Slip it into your pocket, there’s a good chap.’

Hiding his anger at the older man’s patronizing tone, Latham sprung open the lid and gazed at the contents. It was nothing much, a length of artistically bent metal with a few pearls and semi-precious stones attached. ‘It wasn’t very expensive, you know, and like you said, it’s the thought that counts.’

‘And just what is that thought, Latham?’

‘My immediate thought is that I feel insulted by having my gift so casually tossed back at me. Your daughter is not a child. She’s a beautiful woman, and, considering her age, a slightly naïve one. It’s time you loosened the apron strings, Benjamin. Ask me what my motives are instead of assuming the worst. I’m not angling to be her sugar daddy.’

‘Courtship? Marriage? You’re at least twenty years older than Julia, and have a reputation for preferring younger women.’