The second collection of 3 great novels by Mary Burchell Page 7

  1

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Afterwards Leoni felt it was extremely cowardly and silly of her not to have insisted on questioning auntie further.

  But "insist*' was a difficult word to contemplate in connection with auntie. Besides, deeply interested as she was, it would have been almost impossible to ask questions in a casual manner.

  Fm sure I should have blushed or looked horrified or something, Leoni reflected as, much later that evening,-she sat by the pleasant little electric fire in her own room for ten minutes before going to bed.

  It was Trudie who had explained the unusual luxury of fires in the bedrooms.

  "Mother always says that sitting around a family fire is fun most times but that everyone likes some time to themselves—or if they don't there's something wrong with them. So we all have electric fires in our own rooms, but as it's an extravagance we pay for it ourselves. We have separate meters—see, here's yours—just like peopljs who have their own bed-sitters, and then if we want to have a fire to dress or undress by or we want an hour or two by ourselves, or anything, it's nobody's business but our own. Don't you think it's a good idea?"

  To Leoni, for whom privacy was still an exquisite luxury—and cozy privacy an unknown joy—the idea seemed httle less than a stroke of genius and she said so.

  Trudie was exceedingly gratified.

  "Well, we all think mother's pretty smart about these things," she agreed carelessly. "You needn't bother about your meter for a bit, because we all put sixpence in for luck

  until ^ou get your first week's salary. Then you can do what you like about it.**

  "Why, you think of everything! ** exclaimed Leoni, deeply touched."Nowondermatronthoughtrdlikelivinghere.

  "Matron? Oh, yes, of course—Aunt Kate. She's very nice as aunts go. Well, good night now. I'll bang on your door in the morning in good time. I'll wish you good luck for your first day now, because I'm not fit to speak to before half-past eleven in the morning, so don't expect me to be chatty at breakfast."

  Leoni laughed and said good night, and then Trudie had gone out, shutting the door with a cheerful bang and leaving Leoni to reflections which were almost entirely happy but, in one particular only, somewhat agitating.

  What had auntie meant by those cryptic remarks, Leoni wondered.

  OK well, it's no good worrying about it now, she decided, as she began to get ready for oed. The really important thing is that it s 9oing to be simply lovely living here, and Fm starting a real jot) tomorrow, and 1*11 be earning my own living at last, and—and—I might even see him.

  After which Leoni went to bed and, in spite of all her eager anticipations, to sleep.

  It seemed hardly ten minutes before a lively rat-a-tat on her door roused her once more to an existence that seemed entirely puzzling for the first few moments of consciousness. Then she remembered where she was, tumbled out of bed and—allowing herself the small luxury, which will reconcile the early riser to many things, even on a cold, wet morning—switched on her electnc fire.

  Life in the Dagram household moved at a greatly increased pace in the early mornings, everyone being in something of a hurry, from Mr. Dagram, who had to be at his desk in a shipping oflfice by nine o'clock, to Pauline, who had to be at her desk in school by the same hour. Everyone, that is to say, except auntie, who remained luxuriously in bed in compensation for having finished her day's work at around mici night.

  Leoni was a good deal impressed by the ordered haste with which all the details of dressing, breakfasting and setting out were accomplished—without any recourse to the kind of bell that ruled the activities of the orphanage, too!

  In an amazingly short space of time she was on her way in Hugh's company, being efficiently hustled on and off buses and being instructed on exactly where she was to pick up her bus on the return journey.

  Not until they were at the actual entrance to the imposing building that housed the offices of Vandeem, Morrion and Morrion did Hugh leave her, and then it was with an encouraging, almost brotherly pat on the shoulder and the advice to remember that everyone has to have a first day.

  The offices of Vandeem, Morrion and Morrion were very large, very modern and very well appointed. Even Leoni, with no standards with which to compare them, felt that, and was correspondingly impressed.

  She was a little coldly received by a well-dressed, efficient person called Miss Robinson, in whose remarkably well-kept hands appeared to rest the fate of all mere minions like herself Miss Robinson, who was a very, very well preserved forty-five, took a poor view of anyone under that age while attempting (with singular success) to appear ten years younger than that herself

  Leoni, of course, was innocently unaware of all this. She was also unaware of the passionate jealousy with which Miss Robinson looked after her own personal importance with the firm and was not, therefore, at all well disposed toward anyone who could claim personal acquaintance with one of the directors. Almost her first words to Leoni were, "I believe you have come here on a personal recommendation from Mr. Vandeem?"

  Leoni smiled rather shyly and said that was so.

  Miss Robinson did not smile.

  "You understand that the London office is under the direct control of Mr. Morrion senior and Mr. Lucas Morrion. Mr. Vandeem has nothing whatever to do with it," observed Miss Robinson, looking past Leoni's left ear as though she didn't much like what she saw beyond it.

  Leoni was just about to say—yes, indeed, she knew that and, as a matter of fact, she was slightly acquainted with Mr. Lucas Morrion, too, when some instinct of self-preservation, deep down in her, jerked a warning string, which appeared to be attached to her tongue. So she merely replied

  that—yes, indeed, she knew Mr. Vandeem had nothing to do with the London office, and left it at that.

  Miss Robinson said "Good,'* though Leoni could not quite imagine why. Then she conducted Leoni to a large light room where half a dozen other girls were removing covers from typewriters and sharpenmg pencils at a leisurely pace, which was immediately accelerated to a miraculous clegree at the appearance of Miss Robinson.

  Sketchy and not very cordial introductions were performed by Miss Robinson, which left Leoni without any real knowledge of anyone's name, and then she was set down before a typewriter, given a formidable bundle of invoices to copy, and more or less left to her fate.

  Hardly had the door closed upon Miss Robinson once more when the girl sitting next to Leoni—a pretty, lively brunette—turned to her and said, "Are you reaUy a friend of oldVandeem's?"

  "Not a friend, exactly," Leoni explained. "I know hinv quite well. I went to school with his daughter. Why? Does it matter? " and she laughed a little doubtfully.

  "Only to Robin Redbreast," was the reply. And then, as Leoni looked faintly puzzled—"Miss Robinson, then. She shouldn't wear that luscious scarlet blouse unless she wants the obvious to happen. She loathes you—naturally."

  A good deal startled, Leoni inquired why.

  "Oh, well, she believes in the feudal system in an office, you know. She sits above the salt and we are the serfs. The idea of your knowing the senior director of the firm is just gall and wormwood to her—whatever gall and wormwood maybe."

  Leoni's eyes opened so wide and she looked so dismayed that a plump, jolly little person sitting just beyond the brunette laughed and said, "Don't scare her like that. It doesn't matter really. Only—if you don't mind a hint— you'd better not throw your weight around with Miss Robinson on the strength of knowing the Vandeems."

  "But I shouldn't dream of doing so," exclaimed poor Leoni, with such fervor that they all laughed.

  **That's all right then," declared her neighbor. And Leoni began to type her invoices feeling, in view of what had been said, that her acquaintance with Lucas Morrion must remain a secret only a few shades less dark than if she had committed murder in cold blood.

  Office life is really rather disturbing, she thought worriedly.

  However, nothing else agitating happe
ned during the day. She lunched with the brunette and the nice, plump little typist, who turned out to be a Miss Coran and a Miss Trent respectively, and received a great deal of gratuitous advice on how to annoy Miss Robinson without placing oneself actually in the wrong.

  Miss Robinson, Leoni decided, must be a singularly unpopular person.

  She also learned that "the Old Man,*' who was apparently Mr. Morrion senior, only came into the office on Tuesdays and Fridays, and that Mr. Morrion, who was evidently Lucas, was ''a perfect devil" if you made too many mistakes, but had been known to exercise strict impartiality on certain occasions when Miss Robinson had tried to make trouble for the office staff.

  '*You can't pull wool over his eyes," Miss Coran explained. "Not even Robinson's best three-ply. Of course, she does all she can to curry favor with him. I think she'd set hercap on him if she thought there was half a chance."

  "But he's only about thirty!" exclaimed Leoni in horror.

  "Is he? How do you know?" inquired Miss Coran with great interest.

  "Well-" Leoni floundered a bit "-well, I'm sure I've heard Mr. Vandeem speak of him as the youngest director and—and that he was aoout thirty."

  "Is that so? Well, thirty is young to be a director, of course, especially as he's been one for a few years now. We've often wondered." Then, as something else seemed to strike her, "Well, how old would you think Miss Robinson then?"

  "About forty-five?" suggested Leoni doubtfully.

  Whereat both the other girls shrieked delightedly, and Miss Trent remarked to Miss Coran, "She's pretty smart, isn't she?"

  Leoni was half gratified and half put out. But the others appeared to be delighted at her acumen.

  The afternoon passed much more quickly than the morning—or so it seemed to Leoni, who oy now was becoming more used to her surroundings. She was almost surprised

  when a general pushing back of chairs and clattering of machine covers announced that the day's work was over. And she began to feel like a real city worker and wage earner when Miss Coran said, "Hurry up, and we'll walk down to the District together."

  Leoni explained conscientiously that she had been instructed to go by bus.

  "Bus! You'll never get on a bus tonight, my girl," declared Miss Coran positively. "It's pouring. Where did you say you had to go? '

  Leoni told her—in great detail.

  "Oh, you don't want to bother about buses," Miss Coran assured her. "You come on the District line with me at Mansion House, and change onto the Morden subway at Charing Cross. You'll be home in no time."

  Mindful of Hugh's careful directions, Leoni still clung to the idea of a bus journey. But the sight of the queue of gleaming umbrellas at the bus stop rather daunted her.

  "You^ much better come with me," urged Miss Coran. "120 on to Victoria, but I'll shove you out at Charing Cross, ana all you have to do is change onto the Morden line. You can't go wrong."

  So Leoni yielded to her persuasions, and along with what seemed about half a million other rain-soaked people, she crammed onto a District train.

  At Charing Cross she bade Miss Coran good night and wormed her way out of the train. Sure enough, a notice at the head of a short flight of steps pointed clearly to the direction for the Morden subway. Leoni ran down the stairs, feeling extremely independent, looked round, followed the crowd—and suddenly found herself confronted by the most dreadful phenomenon.

  Falling away in front of her was a steep flight of stairs, moving of their own volition in the most horrifying manner.

  Leoni, whose head for heights was not good at the best of times, felt herself almost reel. She grasped at the handrail, and immediately, as though bewitched, it began to slide away under her hand. With an exclamation of dismay, she let go again and tried to step out of the stream of people pouring along behind and around her. But they were all moving resistlessly in one direction, and for a panic-

  stricken moment she thought she would be swept helplessly^ over the top of the stairway.

  And then someone caught her firmly and securely by the arm, and an amused voice beside her said, "Come along. It'snot so frightening as it looks.**

  And the next moment she was traveling smoothly down the escalator, her arm held lightly and securely, and her feeling of confidence miraculously restored.

  With immeasurable relief she looked up to thank her rescuer—and found that the man holding her arm was Lucas Morrion.

  "Oh! *' gasped Leoni, and then stopped.

  "We seem fated to meet on staircases, don*t we?** he said gravely. Whereat she laughed, and suddenly found that she was happy beyond expression.

  With nis hand on her arm, she accomplished the return to firm ground without a stumble, and then he said, still holding her arm, "Where do you go now?**

  She told him and he said, "Tm going one station on the same line—as far as Waterloo. 1*11 see you on your way."

  "Oh-thankyou.**

  She was already remembering the fact that he was not only her dear and^ delightful acquaintance of old days. He was also her employer now, and the reflection—along with the hints she had received about him—disquieted her not a httle.

  But evidently no such consideration was troubling him, for before the train could come in he suddenly asked, "Look here, are you doing anything this evening?'*

  "Doing anything?*'

  "Yes. Have you an engagement? Or will you give the Morden train a miss and come and have some dinner with me?"

  For a moment the most exquisite temptation assailed Leoni. In spite of anything that Norman Conby or Julia or auntie had said she was ready, for one reckless second, to throw all caution to the winds and simply go off with him that evening. But, just in time, sanity prevailed.

  "Oh, I can't come this evening,** she exclaimed, not knowing how regretfulthat sounded. "Tm expected home. The Dagrams—they*re the people Tm living with just now— would be frightfully worried if I were late.**

  The train came in just then, which prevented him from commenting on that. But when they had crammed their way into the doorway and the train had started again, he did what Leoni had not, in her wildest dreams, dared to hope he would do. He returned determinedly to the subject.

  ''Well, when can you come?"

  "Why-well-"

  ''Tomorrow?"

  She ought to have said she could not come tomorrow. She ought to have indicated that she could not come at all. What was the right technique for a very, very junior shorthand-typist to adopt when refusing an invitation from a director of the firm?

  To tell the truth, Leoni did not trouble her head with any of these problems. Drawing a deep breath, she said, with an expression of daring and rapture that made him laugh, "Yes, I'll come tomorrow."

  "All right. And then come on to a theater afterwards?"

  "Yes.Yes-I'dloveit."

  "What do you want to see? "

  "Oh,I-Iclon'tknow."

  "Well, think of what you want by tomorrow and we'll try to get in. Meet me just inside the Savoy at six-thirty, will you?" he said, as the train began to slow down.

  With a sensation that she was treading something between the primrose path and the road to heaven, Leoni nodded recklessly.

  "Yes. Yes—the Savoy at six-thirty tomt)rrow."

  As the train stopped and the doors slid back, he raised his hat and turned to go. In something like panic she reached after him and caught his sleeve.

  "Please tell me—quickly—where is the Savoy?"

  He looked back over his shoulder, laughing and said, "The one I mean is in the Strand."

  And then the fresh crowds surged into the train and he was lost to view.

  "Here's a seat, miss," said an insignificant little man at Leoni's elbow.

  She gave him a dazzling smile and sank into the seat, leaving him with the inpression that he must be rather a dashing fellow, after all. For how was he to know that the smile he received was largely due to someone who was now

  traveling up the escalator to Waterloo Main Line
Station?

  As the subway train raced along from station to station, Leoni sat staring in front of her. Anyone watching her might have supposed her to be studying the advertisements on the wall opposite with smihng concentration. But she was blindly oblivious to the highly colored temptations to purchase toothpaste or cough mixture, or to insure her life, or buy a house. For Leoni there was only one fact of importance at the moment—only one thing which engaged her whole thought and attention. And that was the realization—to be savored again and again—that she was to have a whole evening with Lucas Morrion tomorrow.

  Sustained by her inner happiness—and encouraged no doubt by her previous success—Leoni safely negotiated the escalator at her home station and, following the directions which the knowledgeable Miss Coran had given her, she found her road without difficulty.

  Not until she turned into its now familiar length did Leoni suddenly recognize a very real peril in connection with tomorrow's proposed outing. Suppose Mrs. Daeram said she was not to go! Suppose auntie redoubled her hints and insinuations, so that Lucas was made to appear an entirely unsuitable person to take Leoni out on her third evening in London?

  The very thought of being forbidden to do the thing she most wanted to do in life made Leoni pause in her rapid walk. Somehow—5ome/?ow—she must be able to present the suggestion to Mrs. Dagram in a way that would make it acceptable.

  It isn't as though there's the least bit of harm in it, Leoni assured her conscience. It's Just that it can be made to appear as though there is. After all, I know Lucas—he's a cousin of Julia's, come to that. If only ""auntie" weren't so tiresome. Suppose I just say one of the men at the office wants to take me out to the theater? No, that sounds as though I've struck up an acquaintance with someone on the very first day, and think of nothing but rushing out to enjoy myself. I could say it was someone I already knew. Yes, that's right—someone I had met at the Vandeems'. I won't say anything that isn't true and, if I'm pushed into a corner I'll have to say who it is and chance auntie being difficult. But if I don't actually have to say his name, I'm not going to volunteer it myself.