Across the Counter (18 page)

And it had not been Geraldine.

At lunchtime she made herself go and look at the photographs on the display board. And strangely enough it warmed her heart to see the undoubted happiness on the faces of both Malcolm and Geraldine. It was no longer a matter of passionate moment to her that he would have everything he wanted. But she could not be unmoved by the fact that two people looked so radiantly happy, partly because she had taken a hand in their affairs, even indirectly.

There was one very good photograph of Paul, too, smiling down at his sister. She stood and looked at that for a long time, secure in the knowledge that the display board was always a point of interest and that it was nothing for people to linger in front of it for minutes on end.

And every day after that, for a whole week, she used to pause and look at Paul on her way to and from lunch. But then the photographs were changed for some about sporting events, and she no longer had even that small contact with him.

When her departmental report and liaison scheme were completed, once more she came in for some warm praise and commendation. And Mr. Arnoldson said that before being assigned to a department again, she had better take the week’s holiday that was owing to her. She had earned it, he added approvingly, and where did she intend to spend it?

“Oh, at home,” exclaimed Katherine quickly.

To which Mr. Arnoldson said, “Splendid, splendid.” But neither of them referred to the fact that “home” was not so very many miles from Morringham.

On
the journey,
Katherine alternated betwee
n
illogical elation and equally illogical depression. And try as she would to tell herself that she was most unlikely even to see Paul, she could hardly contain her excitement when she changed at Morringham station from the main line train to the little local one that would take her the last part of her journey.

After that her excitement subsided into somber resignation. For every turn of the clanking wheels now took her farther away from Morringham instead of nearer to it.

At the station her father met her in the family car, and although Iris greeting was matter-of-fact and he said he had to go off to a case almost immediately, she was subtly aware of that indefinable support that only an affectionate home background can give.

The younger ones were all out—at school or at the hospital—when Katherine arrived, and so she had her mother entirely to herself. And over tea and toast, before a comfortably glowing fire, she told the whole of her story.

She had not really intended to tell her mother
everything, being still vaguely of the opinion that people over forty cannot quite recall or understand the foolishness and the trials of twenty-two. But when it came to the point, the delicious indulgence of talking endlessly about Paul proved too much for her. And although she rather scamped the bits about Malcolm, she told the rest in detail.

At the end her mother said, “If you’re really in love with him, Kate, I think you’ve acted rather too quixotically. How do you
know
that he would prefer his store to you? I think you should have given him the chance of choosing for himself.”

“I didn’t need to, mother. He’d expressed himself quite clearly when he made that one almost casual suggestion that we should turn our engagement into reality. He went no further than to say he thought he could live happily with me, and that he agreed with his father it was time he got married.”

“Mmm—yes. It’s not quite what one could call passionate wooing,” agreed her mother. “Well, my darling, perhaps you’re well out of it. At least I’m glad you didn’t marry Malcolm Fordham.”

“Oh, so am I!” exclaimed Katherine fervently. And this time she did not even pause to think how utterly incongruous that would have sounded to her once.

In spite of all the tact and authority her mother could exert, nothing would entirely silence the twins on the subject of Paul. They understood that their sister was not going to marry him, after all, but Charlotte particularly found it quite impossible not to say w
hat a pity she thought this was

“Yes, of course it’s a pity, pet,” Katherine conceded. “Only sometimes these things happen—and we just have to put up with them.”

“It seems a special pity that we have to put up with it, too,” Charlotte said. “Don’t you think he might come and see
us
sometimes, even if he isn’t going to marry you?”

“I don’t think it’s at all likely.”

Katherine spoke firmly, but Charlotte had her share of firmness, too.

“
Then don’t you think it might be a good idea if you and I went into Morringham to do some shopping?” she said coaxingly. “We could go into Kendales and look around. And then if we met him quite by chance we couldn’t help it, could we?”

This so exactly expressed the kind of wishful thinking in which Katherine, with secret shame, indulged that she stared at her little sister for a moment in horrified fascination. Then she said, almost violently.
“
No! Of course we couldn’t!”

And even Charlotte saw that the subject was closed.

The one thing Katherine did allow herself during her week at home was a brief visit to the Fallodens, and all the time she kept emphasizing to herself that this had nothing to do with any hope of seeing Paul.

That was true, of course, for she would have gone to see them anyway. But even though the visit inevitably took place in the dark of the evening, and she went the whole way from the station to their house by bus, she stared out of the window all the time, looking hungrily but uselessly for even a glimpse of a tall, familiar figure.

Both Jane and her mother welcomed Katherine affectionately. And with a blessed lack of inhibition Jane proceeded to give her all the news of the store without forcing her to ask for it.

“You know about Geraldine Kendale’s marriage, of course?”

“
I
heard she and Malcolm did marry, and I saw some photographs. They always put that sort of thing up on a display board at Bremmisons. It was rather sudden, wasn’t it?”

“Very,” Jane agreed. “But they both looked radian
t
, I must say. It seems
she
chose love instead of money, anyway.”

“She could afford to,” Katherine said quickly.

“Meaning that she isn’t wild to have a seat on the board?” suggested Jane humorously. “Well, I suppose it
is
different for a girl.”

“Of course it is. Have there been any other—rumors, Jane?”

“About Paul, you mean? There are always rumors. But I don’t think anyone believes much in Aileen’s chances now. Since Geraldine’s marriage, her contact with the family hardly counts for anything. And they say that the split between the old men is complete.”

“Then—what is going to happen?”

“I don’t know, Katherine.
I
suppose it’s all a matter of timing, don’t you? If old Kendale undertook to produce a certain sum of money, I presume he has to find it by a certain date. You can’t hang these things out indefinitely.”

Katherine rubbed her hands together nervously.

“
I
wonder if Paul knows the exact situation now.”

“Of course he knows. He’s nobody’s fool. And he’s sized up the implications, too. They say—” She stopped.

“
What do they say?” asked Katherine passing the tip of her tongue over her lips.

“Well, you’re bound to hear, dear, so you may as well hear it from me,” Jane said sympathetically. “They say that he’s been in London several times lately—”

“In London?”

“And that he’s been seen around a lot with an American heiress. Of course, all well-to-do American girls are described as heiresses, particularly if they’re seen around with an attractive man. But this girl’s supposed to be the daughter of one of the biggest store owners in the States. It ties up, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Katherine slowly, “it ties up.”

And after that she didn’t ask any more about Paul. It seemed rather pointless to do so.

Illogical though it might be, the thought that he had been in London without her even knowing seemed to set the seal on their final separation. It was absurd to hav
e
supposed that he would look her up. It was not even desirable, in the circumstances, that he should have done so. Only—that he had been there, in the same city, and she had not even known!

Somehow that hurt almost as much as if he had deliberately slighted her.

At the end of the week she bade a reluctant goodbye to her family and returned to London.

This time she indulged in no idle daydreams as she passed through Morringham station. This time there were no feverish calculations about the possibility of seeing Paul on some future visit. It was difficult to say when she would be in Morringham again. She hoped to get home at Christmas—but it would only be for a long weekend, and she would hardly go outside the house.

Her contact with Morringham itself—and with all that Paul stood for—was really broken at last. She had proved for herself that she could be in his city, or he in hers, and it meant not a thing to either of them, as far as the possibilities of meeting were concerned.

The sooner she accepted that the better. And so she accepted it.

As
she entered
Bremmisons on Monday morning, she told herself, with something like conviction, that
this
was her life henceforth. And not a bad one, either. Not everyone had the chance of making a successful career for herself among beautiful things, and in splendid and dignified surroundings.

She was lucky not to have to live out her working days in a poky office, or as part of some impersonal concern where one was little more than a cog in a gigantic wheel. Here she had scope for her talents, appreciation of her achievements, and the never ending joy of a lovely, gracious background.

At the head of the great staircase, which Malcolm had once described as accounting for half the charm of Bremmisons, Katherine paused—as she had paused on that morning when Mr. Arnoldson had sent for her and told her she was to go to Morringham.

Was it possible that it was only six weeks ago?

It seemed like half a lifetime—and yet everything looked curiously unchanged. It was as people said
—
there was a lovely sort of timelessness about Bremmisons, a serenity that defied the hurried beat of modern life.

I
love it,
Katherine thought. And she leaned over the banister to look down at the great sweep of the stairway, and the graceful way the departments fanned out from it.

As she did so, she caught her breath on an audible gasp as she saw who was ascending the stairs, his head slightly bent. There was no mistaking him, even before he looked up and saw her.

The man who was coming up the stairs toward her was Paul.

CHAPTER
TWELVE

For a wild moment
she hardly knew whether to run down to him in delight, or hurry away in panic.

She did neither. She just waited until he came up to her and said, “Hello, Katherine. I thought
I
might meet you here.”

“Did you? W-waiting at the top of the stairs, do you mean?”

“No. I didn’t specify that to myself.” He gave her that quick, amused glance that set her heart beating to a curiously light measure. “I just thought—hoped—I might meet you at Bremmisons.”

“Why did you
...
hope so, Paul? Did you want to see me?”

“Yes, I did.” He looked down at her now, in a rather somber way. “When we last took leave of each other I behaved abominably. I think I wanted to find out if you'd forgiven me.”

“Oh, it’s
...
all right.” At that moment she was so unspeakably happy that she would have forgiven him anything. Just to have him stand there beside her was enough. She hardly even noticed that the doors had opened, and that one or two people were already straggling into the downstairs departments.

It was he who said, “Can’t we go somewhere a little more private and talk? This is a bit like trying to converse on the steps of St. Paul’s.”

She laughed slightly.

“You can come into my office, if you like. It’s beside the Costume Jewelry Department. It isn’t entirely
private, but I don’t think anyone is likely to come in at this time in the morning.”

She led the way, telling herself as she went that this was real—this was
real
! It was like the sort of thing one invented, to cheer oneself in depression. But this .was really happening.

In the office that she was temporarily sharing with Mrs. Culver she sat down and indicated the other chair to him. But he sat on the corner of her desk instead, swinging his leg and looking at her as though he had not seen her for a long while.

“You’ve changed in some way,” he told her.

“I have? I can’t in so short a time!’

“Well, perhaps it’s I who’ve changed,” was the odd thing he said. And then he added abruptly, “I have to ask you, Katherine. Did you hear about Geraldine’s wedding?”

“Yes, of course. We had some of the photographs of the wedding on the display board in our canteen. She looked lovely. And there was a good one of you, too.”

“Was there?” He smiled faintly. “Did you mind very much, Katherine?”

“About what?”

“About his finally marrying her, of course.”

“No. I’d
...
I
suppose I must say I’d got over Malcolm before ever he married Geraldine. I hope they’ll be very happy together.”

“I think they will be,” he said absently. But then he returned to his original line of inquiry.
“You told me at one point that you wanted to be free because it looked as though Geraldine might break her engagement.”

“I know. But I got
o
ver that
Paul. I’ve told you.”

“Malcolm had nothing to do with your breaking your engagement to me, then?”

“N-no,” she said, but more cautiously now. “I explained at the time. I—I wanted to come back to work at Bremmisons. There was a good opening.”

“Yes. That’s what you said. I didn’t entirely believe you. I thought there was some other reason somewhere, but
I
couldn’t quite get hold of it.”

“There was no other reason,” she said quickly and a little too emphatically.

“Then, when you gave me back my ring—”

“I didn’t give it back to you! You took it off my hand,” she exclaimed, and even then her voice quivered at the remembered pain of the incident.

“Well
...
yes, I suppose that’s technically true.” He looked surprised. “But you’d been pretty definite, Katherine. You wanted me to take it off, didn’t you?” She tried to answer and failed.

“Didn’t you, my dear?” He leaned toward her, but she kept her eyes down so that he could not see her expression.

“Yes, of course,” she said huskily.

“What, then? What was the trouble?”

“There was no trouble.”

“Did you want to keep the ring as a sort of memento? Because, if so—”

“No, of course not!” She was so shocked that she glanced up at him. But she was scared by the singularly penetrating way he was looking at her, and she quickly looked down again.

“It was just the way you did it,” she explained breathlessly, “so
...
so casually and brutally. And then you said it had been nice to know me—as though I’d been
a
...
a
pickup
girl or something. It
...
hurt.”

“I’m sorry, Kate.” Somehow that sounded quite different from when Malcolm had called her Kate.

“I’m truly sorry. But it hurt when you broke the engagement, too, you know.”

“Did it?” Again that quick glance up and down. “You mean it piqued you that I preferred a good job to you.”

“No,” he said deliberately. “I mean that it hurt like hell, because, from the way you looked at me during the
board meeting, I thought you and
I
had come to a new understanding.”

“
Oh, I know
...
when you mean.” She spoke almost in a whisper.

“
Then
I
didn’t imagine it?”

“No.” She shook her head. For, whatever the consequences, and however ill-advised the admission, she could not bring herself to deny that magical moment when she had looked at Paul and seen him for the first time as the man she loved.

There was a short silence. Then he said quietly, “Why did you look at me as though you loved me, and then slap me in the face afterward? It isn’t like you to be cruel.”

“I didn’t mean to be cruel! I didn’t realize how
I
looked. It wasn’t intended. And it had nothing to do with my decision one way or the othe
r
. I’d already decided to break the engagement before ever the meeting started.”

“Why?” he asked quickly. “Arnoldson hadn’t made you any offer of a job then.”

“Oh—” She saw how badly she had slipped, and she clapped her hand to her mouth like a child caught out in a fib.

For a long moment they looked at each other. Then he said, almost gently, “You invented the bit about the job, didn’t you?”

She nodded, fascinated into admission by the keen
n
ess of his glance.

“Then what was the real reason, Kate? Just that you didn’t
...
like me?”

She was silent.

“In spite of the way you looked at me?”

Still she was silent.

“And in spite of the fact that I loved you?”

“Oh—” she buried her face in her hands suddenly “you
know
it was best for us to end things. You may not have liked the moment I chose, or the way I did it,
but haven’t you been thankful since that you were free?”

“No,” he said categorically. “
I
haven’t been thankful for anything for one single minute of the day or night since I lost you. Nothing means anything anymore. Nothing has flavor anymore. For what should I feel thankful?”

“Paul!” She dropped her hands and stared at him.
“Is
...
is
that
how you feel?”

“That’s how I feel,” he said. And he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.

For a wonderful few seconds she allowed herself to return his kiss. Then she drew back almost guiltily and exclaimed, “But you can’t
afford
to feel like that.”

“Why the hell not?” he wanted to know.

“Because—oh, you must know the situation in the Firm at least as well as I do. You know, surely, that your father promised to produce a sizable sum in return for retaining the family interest on the board
—your
position on the board.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Well, then, the—the money isn’t forthcoming, after all, is it?”

“No.”

Until the last possible second, she realized now, she had entertained the faintest hope that her information might be wrong. But now, quite coolly, he had confirmed her fears.

“It has to be found from someone—somewhere
—
Paul, if the contract is to stand?”

“That’s true.”

“Well then—” she swallowed slightly “—there seemed to be only two solutions. Either you or Geraldine had to marry money. Geraldine hasn’t done so.”

“Was that why you left me?” he inquired gravely.

She nodded.

“The sole reason? Nothing to do with Malcolm—or a wonderful job at Bremmisons?
”

“At first I was concerned with making things easy for Malcolm. He was so desperately anxious to marry Geraldine, and he was afraid she might turn him down for someone richer. But then—” she gripped her hands together in front of her on the desk “—
I
didn’t really mind much about Malcolm and Geraldine.
I
saw suddenly that the really important thing was to leave you free so that you could
yourself
make your position secure. I knew you loved Kendales better than anything else in the world—”

“But I didn’t, my dear.”

“That isn’t true,
”
she cried. “I saw the way you looked at that meeting. You simply dominated the scene, quite naturally—”

“Didn’t you also see the way I looked
at you
at that meeting?”

“Yes, but—” She stopped because he had come and sat on the arm of her chair, and now his arm was around her.

“Listen, Kate. I’m not going to pretend I don’t love Kendales, or that I’m not determined to fight like mad to retain my position there. But if you really want the truth, I’d rather have you than Kendales and Bremmisons rolled into one.”

There was a long silence while she slowly savored this incredible, delicious knowledge. Then she said timidly, “Are you sure, Paul?”

“Of course I’m sure. I’m never unsure about the things that really matter,” he told her with that touch of good-humored arrogance that was part of his charm. “When are you going to marry me?”

“Oh, please—I can’t take it all in at once?” she cried, half scared, half enchanted. “I never guessed that you felt like this. How could I?”

“I did ask you to marry me,” he reminded her. “In all seriousness, I mean—that evening when we were driving back from your home.”

“
Then? Did you know then that you
...
loved me?”

“Most certainly.”

“You didn’t say so,” she reproached him. “You talked almost academically about agreeing with your father that it was time you got married, and you said you thought you could live very happily with me. You didn’t say you loved me.”

“And if I had, you’d have shied like a frightened pony,” he assured her. “You were in love with Malcolm at that time.”

“Why
...
yes, I suppose I was,” she agreed in the tone of one recalling a youthful folly now half-forgotten.

“Well, now I am asking you again—with the willing admission that
I
love you. How about it, Kate?”

“Oh, my dear—” She ran her hand up and down his sleeve in a nervous loving gesture. “Have you considered all the implications? I can’t do a single thing toward helping you to hold your position at Kendales, you know.”

“
I
don’t want you to. I’m not marrying you for security. I’m marrying you for love.”

She laughed protestingly.

“If you
married a really rich girl—”

“Stop being so mercenary,” he said, kissing the tip of her ear. “I never at any time contemplated marrying someone I didn’t
like so that she could buy me a place in my own family firm.”

“You might have married a rich girl you did like,” she pointed out.

“If she took the place I wanted for you, I wouldn’t have liked her, rich or poor,” he retorted.

“Oh, Paul—
”
she hugged him ecstatically “—I do love you!”

“Do you know that’s the first time you’ve said that to me?” He ran a tender, teasing finger down her cheek.

“I’ve said it often enough to myself during the last few weeks,” she admitted somberly.

“My dear, foolish little Kate! Why did you have to make us
both so miserable?”

“You know why! The reason is still there, as large as life, and we have to face it. Paul—are you going to lose your place on the board of Kendales?”

“I don’t know. Will you still marry me if
I
do?”

“Of course! But won’t it make you utterly wretched?”

“No. Only one thing could make me utterly wretched now.” He smiled and kissed her.

“Oh, thank you, darling. But when will the—the decision be made?”

“In about an hour’s time, I imagine.”

“In about an
hour
?”
Startled, she glanced at her watch, and dimly sensed that she also had other things to do that morning.

“I have an appointment with some of the heads of Bremmisons to discuss the general situation in our store. Among other things, I shall have t
o
make it clear to them that my father promised more, financially speaking, than we can perform.”

“Oh, Paul, do you mind very much?”

“I can think of other things I would rather do,” he said lightly. “Making love to you is one of them. But I’m not going to the meeting entirely without cards in my hand, Kate.”

“The best card would be if you had the money,” said Katherine with a sigh. “You’re sure you don’t want to leave
our
decision until afterward?”

“The two things have nothing whatever to do with each other.”

“But they could have. If you decided, after all, to marry that charming American heiress, for instance.”

“What American heiress?”

“Someone said you’d been out with her several times lately, here in London, and that her father was the head of one of the biggest stores in the States.”

“You do get hold of the news, don’t you?” he said, and he patted her cheek. “Here, I must go, or I’ll be late for my appointment. Shall
I
find you here later?”

“Here or in the department.”

“Very well.” He kissed her briefly and turned away. But at the door he suddenly paused and then came back.

“Here’s something you’ll be needing again,” he said, and he put a small box on the desk in front of her. Then he was gone, almost before she had realized that it was her engagement ring that he had returned to her.

She opened the box and gave a little laugh of pure delight. But she did not put the ring on her finger. That was something for Paul to do later. Instead she put it carefully in her handbag and then went out into the department to find Mrs. Culver and discuss the work for the day.

I
t was a long, long morning, and it was no good for Katherine to pretend that her attention was fully on her work. But she made up for that by never moving from the department, even for morning coffee. For whatever happened, she must be there when
Paul returned.

Presently, during a slack quarter of an hour, Mrs. Culver came and stood with her for an enjoyable little gossip, and she asked curiously, “Who was that good
-
looking fellow who was talking to you in the office earlier this morning?”

“Paul Kendale.” Even to say his name gave her pleasure. “He’s h
e
re for a day or two from Morringham to
...
to discuss things with some of the heads of Bremmisons.”

“What things?” asked Mrs. Culver specifically.